Chapter 2: "At least as much of a scofflaw as we are"
Hannibal King was stripping and cleaning a set of Optimized Infantry Combat Weapon systems - OICW's for short - at a workbench when a pair of lights lit green on a console near him. He glanced at the monitor bank, verified the familiar car coming through the gate. "Blade's back," he called over to Abby. She nodded, not looking up from the research she was still deep into at one of the compound's 'net terminals. King went back to his firearms maintenance, not looking up from his focus on the weapons as Blade entered until hearing Abigail make a small sound of surprise, the steady sound of keys clicking stopping abruptly.
"How'd the hunt go?" he asked. Setting down the rifle, he stood, then stared, surprised as he noticed that the big vampire hunter was a) not alone, and b) not alone because he was carrying a dark haired girl in leathers and a long coat. An unconscious brunette at that.
Moving over curiously to take a look, he couldn't and didn't even try, honestly to help his usual sarcasm from boiling out, "Hey, Blade-Man. I know you're more than old enough to go out and pick up girls on your own, but do the words 'Secret Hideout' mean anything to you?" He made air quotes around the word 'Secret' with his fingers as he looked over Blade's burden. "We're going to have to find you a place in town for these late night assignations."
Months ago, the flat 'I am Unamused' look that the big man shot him back from behind his dark glasses would have quelled him with a touch - just a touch, mind you - of fear. That was months and a lot of battles ago, and he'd come to know the man better as only fighting next to someone in life and death situations will do for you. So he returned the look with a smirk and an unspoken 'Yes you are' lift of an eyebrow instead of a nervous spoken 'Right then, moving along... ' and an abrupt change of subject. He'd gotten adept enough at 'expressionless dhampir reading 101' to translate the ghost of a curled lip as a faint smile, and shot Abby an unabashed grin in response to her 'You're such an idiot, King' eye roll
"So... 'least she's cute. You're changing her litter box if she stays, though." He stopped moving closer to continue his inspection as the smell hit his nostrils with a "Whoa!" and reversed direction abruptly, waving his hands. "Sheesh! You didn't pick that one up at a bar, huh? Dredged her up from under a distillery, more like. Yow!"
Abby wrinkled her nose as well as Blade laid the girl... young woman... down on a semi-clear workbench. None of the three missed the slight clunks that accompanied her weight. The brunette made a smacking sound with her lips, tossed her head, and then let out with a slight buzzing snore.
Cocking her head at the dark man, Abigail raised an eyebrow. "King's lack of couth aside, it is a good question," she remarked. "Why'd you bring her here, rather than drop her off somewhere safe?"
Blade glanced at her and shrugged, then carefully stripped off the woman's coat. He raised an eyebrow at the weight in it, then laid it aside as he proceeded to remove a short-bladed sword and scabbard from her back, and several knives and wooden stakes from various places around her motorcycle leathers and boots. He then pulled the short heavy chain he'd also brought from over his shoulder and tossed it clinking on another table.
"She walked into my stalk," he nodded towards her. "And killed five - out of seven - vampires in less than forty seconds. Dead drunk and weaving. With that," he inclined his head to the chain. "Thought some curiosity was in order."
"Huh," King bent to pick up the length of chain, then raised both eyebrows and frowned, first at the thickness, then at the mass and length. It would have been a heavy and unwieldy weapon, even for him. He looked at the not-large young brunette with disbelief tinged curiosity
Blade watched the two check her over, King looking at the sword and combat callouses on the girl's hands, Abby giving her weaponry a professional once over. He hid a slight smile knowing the distraction'd worked for the moment, slowing down a rush of questions he wasn't quite ready to answer.
It hadn't completely been the young woman's strength and combat prowess, nor even her obvious unsurprise at encountering vampires, that had aroused his curiosity, not completely. Vampire strong or stronger, vampire speed but obviously human and not dhampir, plus the odd resonance he felt inside from her... those made him curious, but he'd met other enhanced beings in the past and not acquired them. All of that combined with the slurred phrase that she'd startled and unnerved the minions with, initially, turned him from curious to fascinated.
He had the odd feeling she might be able to provide an answer or two to a personal mystery that had occupied him recently...
Hannibal's voice next to him, soft, broke his train of thought. "She's not completely human, is she?"
Cutting his eyes sideways to meet King's, he muttered, "Doubt it."
"So... who is she?"
"Let's see if we can find out, hey?" Blade shot a look at Abigail, "Mind putting her to bed in one of the sleeping rooms? When you get done, you can help us sort out who - and what - she is."
Abby gave him a look that would have been expressionless to anyone else. "Sure. I'll tuck your girlfriend in for you." She winked slightly at King, who snickered. She looked at the girl and cocked her head, "I'd better give her something to counteract the alcohol, so she won't choke to death before she wakes up."
Blade nodded, and she picked the brunette up easily and carried her out of the room.
...
"Okayyyy... " Much later, Hannibal yawned and stood up from where they'd been re-examining the small pile of personal items from their unexpected guest's coat, and the larger pile of weaponry she'd been carrying. He wandered over to refill his mug from the coffee maker, stretching. When the others indicated they didn't need any, he put the pot back and slouched heavily into his chair by the counter.
"Let's see here, whattawegot..." He began ticking off items on his fingers, more to attempt to shock his brain awake again than because the others needed the list.
"Thin wallet, expensive, snake skin One New York State driver's license in the name of 'Faith M. LeHane', NY address. One passport, same name, with stamps for Britain, Italy, Canada, and Mexico. One Pay Pal Mastercard debit card, also 'Faith Lehane'. One Platinum VISA credit card issued by Bank America to 'Faith Lehane' with a company name of 'International Watcher's Council', whatever that is. Photo-ID and security card issued to Faith LeHane by the IWC. One Gold Master Card, same name, issued by LloydsTSB with a company name of 'New York Center for Gifted Women', and several business cards from the same outfit identifying a Miss Faith LeHane as an 'Admissions Consultant'. One personal credit card issued to Faith Lehane by Wells Fargo, no company name, which is how we know it's a 'personal' CC. Roughly 400 cash and change... call it about 430 or so. Cell phone, short contacts list. Couple of paycheck stubs from the NYCFGW. Nice salary. Not gonna make Gates nervous, but you can live on it," he yawned again and followed it with a slug of coffee.
"Pleah. That's foul," making a face, he continued the inventory. "Drivers license has a motorcycle cert, which nicely matches the insurance and registry cards, not to mention the set of keys, for a BMW k1200, black and silver. Nice bike." He glanced curiously at Blade. "And you said you didn't see or hear any such bike nearby your encounter with her... " Blade nodded. "... So she left it somewhere before she tanked up on non-petrol fuels. Prolly a Good Thing: else she'd have ended up splattered on a bridge abutment instead of wandering into your sights, and we'd be bereft of this fun."
Abigail mouthed 'Bereft?' from her keyboard at him with a mock astonished look. "Hey!" Hannibal grinned. "I know your damn words," he quoted.
She snickered. "I'll do a check on impound lots, see if it's been towed. Not... can do a check of various bars later and see if it's parked at one. She'll probably want it back: I would."
"Damn nice leather coat. Custom, if I miss my guess, and I do not. Easily a grand worth of hide there," he forged onwards. "Which brings us in turn to the sixty-four thousand dollarer: why is an 'Admissions Consultant' for a private girl's school wandering about the docks-N-bars with some serious custom steel stashed away all over her?"
He waved at the counter, "One short sword, Damascus style blade, although my senses leftover from my previous life tell me it's not standard Damascus: there's silver alloyed in the mix of folded steels there. Interesting technique: I'd love to know how they did that. Pattern strongly resembles the Kit Rae 'Mortoseth' sword, but that is definitely not an off the rack blade. Maker's mark says it was made by Shiva-ki, but Shiva-ki's never made a blade of that pattern that I know of. Wicked looking knife, also silver alloyed Damascus, Gil Hibben 'Jackal' pattern, but again, not an off-the-rack. No maker's mark. Boot knife with 7.5" silver-alloyed blade and ebony inlaid grips, Harald Moeller maker's mark. 10" bladed bowie with 'knuckle duster' guard in back-of-coat scabbard, same alloy, also apparently Moeller made. All of the blades give off the damnedest tingle when you pick them up, almost as if they held some sort of barely contained energy. But nothing that's detectable by any of our equipment... Throwing spikes, silvered steel. And, finally, several nicely fashioned wooden stakes. As if she'd been seeing too many Hammer films before going out leech hunting... but you said she looked like she knew how to destroy a vamp?" He raised an eyebrow at Blade.
Blade nodded, looked thoughtful. "But she seemed surprised when they burst into flaming ash. Like she'd expected a different result."
"Hrmm." King pursed his lips. "Interesting forearm rigs for two blades: like a wood and steel stiletto. Silvered steel inlaid with wood, maybe ironwood. Design's a bit like those injector blades of yours," he nodded at Blade, "only 7.5" retractable blades. No guns, but given NYC's and NJ's asinine firearms regs, that's maybe not surprising. Not that it stops us... and not like any Nu Joisey LEO's are going to look kindly on someone carrying almost 20 pounds of concealed cold steel on them, either. So she's at least as much of a scofflaw as we are."
He yawned again, looked over at the computer, and Abby. "Anything new there?"
Shaking her head, she yawned - bastard, it's catching - and recognizing on the brainstorming tone of his voice, picked up the recap where he'd left off. "More questions than information, like with the physical items. Faith Michelle LeHane, born in Boston, Mass 1985, currently 19 years old. Father unknown and unlisted, mother dead from alcohol related causes. In and out of foster homes until the age of 14, when she was released to the custody of a previously unknown relative from England. Juvenile record, sealed at 18, but nothing in it major: usual run of shoplifting, vandalism, public intoxication, fights, and some gang related crap. British aunt was murdered brutally when Faith was 15, Faith dropped out of sight, resurfacing later in California. I'll get to that in a bit..." She bit her lip. "Sounds like our girl had a pretty fucked childhood."
"According to police records, LeHane's not wanted anywhere. According to the California judicial system, she was a 'guest' at one of their correctional facilities for a brief time before breaking out. Murder convictions, multiple. Turned herself in. However... the assistance of some very high powered legal intervention from Wolfram & Hart, an LA law firm, got her original charges reviewed and her conviction reversed, and charges were dropped on the prison break. Probably with the aid of a bit of unofficial Official Intervention: Miss LeHane has a military file, but it looks like what you'd see in a spec-ops file. Thick jacket, no visible info. Not advisable to poke any more deeply at it: both W&H's files and the military and legal records are surrounded by some pretty stiff computer security. Don't want to go there unless we're certain we want to attract that kind of interest to ourselves: not certain I'm good enough to keep from tripping any flags on it."
"'International Watcher's Council' exists, has a rather uninformative and innocuous website. United Kingdom company with a branch in LA and one in Cleveland, Ohio. 'Who we are' Page doesn't list LeHane under their personnel Managed by a Rupert Giles, British citizen 'New York Center for Gifted Women' aka 'The Kendra Wood Young Women's Academy' also exists: exclusive private school located just outside of New York City. Has a much more detailed and nicely done website than the IWC. Headmaster listed as one Robin Wood. LeHane is listed under administrative personnel as an Admissions Consultant, and as an instructor with a specialty in unarmed combat and medieval weaponry." She drained her coffee, refilled it from the last of the pot, and leaned back in her chair propping her feet up on the computer desk. "I'll note that LeHane finished her GED in prison, a couple of months before escaping. Very high scores. No degrees... odd for a school instructor, no?"
Continuing, "BOTH the IWC and the New York Center for Gifted Women have far more sophisticated computer security than one would expect. Again, not digging into there just for idle curiosity: we don't need the attention if I trip something, and I probably would. These places had their systems set up by some serious professional talent."
"Which tells us something in and of itself, no?" King put in.
Blade nodded. He added nothing else to the commentary, instead enjoying the quick play of minds as his partners dissected the information and the growing puzzle image.
"Gets even a bit more interesting when you back away from the sensitive stuff, and look elsewhere. Doing a broad web search on the names connected here, all of them, including Rupert Giles, Faith LeHane, and Robin Wood have a commonality: all of them lived or worked in Sunnydale, California prior to SunnyD's becoming Salt Lake Sunnydale the Inland Sea."
King raised both eyebrows and whistled. "Sunnydale? Weirdness Capital of the US?"
"Naw, that would be Eerie, Indiana," she grinned, "but Sunnydale, or 'Sunnyhell' as it was unaffectionately known by refugees from the collapse, runs a damned close second. 'Damned' used advisedly as an adjective. Highest murder rate in the US for the past century, even outdoing NYC, DC, and Chicago according to FBI crime statistics. Highest incidence of 'BBQ-fork related accidents' in the US."
Blade couldn't help raising an eyebrow and mouthing 'BBQ fork related'? silently. She nodded, "Deaths by exsanguination with twin puncture wounds on the neck or throat. Reported as BBQ fork murders or accidents when reported at all."
Hannibal shook his head. "Explains where she learned about vampires, anyway."
Nod. "Guess where it was that Faith resurfaced in California after the murder of her aunt? If you guess 'Sunnyhell', you are a winnah!" She yawned again and continued. "Damn coffee's defective. Sunnydale was also where the two murder charges originated. 'Murder''s probably overreaching for one of them: the death of Deputy Mayor Finch sounds like an accidental death from what news reports and records survived Sunnydale - he wandered into the middle of a fight in the bad part of town, late at night. Faith's attorney obviously thought so, and the later reviewing judge agreed. Other was overturned in review from lack of actual evidence present in the original trial, and evidence of bungled police work presented by her attorneys and testimony of surviving Sunnydale Police officers: evidentially, Sunnydale's Lamest had wanted the case closed and did the usual - grabbed a convenient suspect and theory, bashed to fit, filed to hide. Faith did confess to both when she turned herself in, according to court records, but according to the investigator who came in with her, one 'Angel' formerly of Angel Investigations of LA, and testimony of one Wesley Wyndham Price, one of her other victims, there's considerable doubt that she was legally sane when she confessed."
"Tortured him," Abby explained to King's inquiring look, and mouthed 'Victims?' That got back an 'Ow, sorry I asked' look. "'Angel' NLN, NMI, is current CEO of Wolfram & Hart's LA branch, and a former Sunnyhell resident. According to the testimony of another testifying officer, Kate Locksley formerly of the LAPD: Faith attempted to kill Angel under contract, and he was able to convince her to turn herself in, instead."
That raised an eyebrow from Blade. She smirked, "Gets moreso. Rupert Giles of the IWC was formerly curator of the British Museum, followed by former Head Librarian of Sunnydale High. No information on any connections to LeHane.. probably swallowed in the sinkhole. Wyndham Price moved to LA from Sunnydale, and was employed by Angel Investigations. Robin Wood, of the NY Center for Gifted Women? Former principal of the rebuilt Sunnydale High School. It was blowed up at graduation," she replied to Hannibal's inquiring look. "Blowed up real good, according to the brief article that made the LA Times. Gas leak."
King rolled his eyes. "I'm going to stop asking."
"Good plan," she smirked. "Faith doesn't seem to have racked up any new criminal history since her escape and later 'clearing'. However, she does seem to have added a lot more mystery associated with her new/current job and post-Sunnydale history. Not that that's a Bad Thing necessarily, considering present company, but it is interesting. Physically... also interesting." Noticing King's smirk, she rolled her eyes, "In addition to her effect on male hormones, I mean. Dark brown hair, almost black. Brown eyes. Drivers license says she's 5'6", although I'd say 5'5" maybe... be easier to tell when she's vertical again. In excellent shape: obviously has done some serious exercise regimens. Tribal tattoo on right arm. Impressive amount of scar tissue, all old: Knife wounds, especially one in the left side of her stomach that looks like it should have been fatal. Wounds that look like they were made by claws. Others that look like teeth wounds. Including indication of mysterious 'BBQ fork related injury'. If I didn't know she was in her 20's, I'd think she was a veteran combat soldier in her late 30's... " She gave Blade an inquiring look.
He nodded. "Moves like a fighter. Trained... " He brought up the mind's eye images from watching her against the pack of vampirlings. "Not military. Not police. But trained. Even intoxicated enough to kill most normal people her size, has excellent situational awareness. Stronger, faster than a typical vampire... possibly as strong as me." King whistled. Blade nodded. He had a good idea of what kind of strength it took to decapitate a vampire, and she'd done it easily, made it look effortless. With a length of chain that'd impressed Hannibal when he hefted it. "She did all of the kills with that chain, and a half-bottle of booze and a lighter, so I didn't get to see any hand-to-hand fighting style. Willing to bet she has some. Possibly several."
King nodded. Blade had described the op and Faith's entry and actions in it earlier, in detail. Short, clipped sentences, yes, but detailed. Hannibal wouldn't have bet much against LeHane having skills in multiple combat arts, either. Especially not with "Unarmed and Medieval Weaponry Instructor" on her resume, even if that might be - probably was - a cover job. He leaned his head back, err... to ponder. Inside of his eyelids needed inspection, anyway.
"And she's definitely not human." Abigail went on, "She's heavier than she should be for her size: as if she has slightly denser muscle and bone structure. Seems to heal faster than normal: she'd evidentially been in recent fights before you brought her in; bruises were starting to fade as I was putting her to bed. Almost as I watched." She left out that she'd picked up a weird buzz from the girl when she'd picked her up to carry her to one of the quarters areas. She'd found that slightly disturbing... not unpleasant, but odd.
"Not a vampire," Hannibal supplied. "Not a dhampir, either. She doesn't register to me on that sense... although she does give off an odd 'vibe' to my inner senses." Slouched back with his eyes closed and aimed at the ceiling, he missed the slight reaction from Abby.
Blade cracked his knuckles, shrugged.
"So, again... whattawegot?" King asked, not opening his eyes. "Someone with a shaky, violent past, at least as shaky and violent as any of ours. Childhood that sounds like I wouldn't wish it on even the kids I hated in grade school. Associated with several interesting organizations, all of whom have enough computer security that Abby gets paranoid about trying to pry. And I agree - paranoia is a Good Thing in that area, in our line of work. Has a blacked out military file, that kinda wigs me a bit. I also agree: really don't want to poke at that. Might get bit. Good with weapons," he held up a finger to forestall objections no one was making. "Anyone who owns and carries that kind of custom steel knows how to use it. And the grips look worn, which matches the callous on her hands. Lots of combat experience, up close and personal. Or at least combat damage. Has survived at least two vamp attacks. Has interesting friends. And probably interesting enemies. Associated at least peripherally with a recent-and-odd crater in California that used to be a town."
"She was - briefly and unofficially - linked to the group of people who were reportedly the last people to escape from what I shall dub 'Sunnyhole'," Abby supplied.
King nodded. "Ok, I miss anything?"
Abigail looked thoughtful, "There's the 'Slayer' reference from Blade's account of the fight. He said she'd said it almost like a Title, and it seemed to register on the vamplings."
"Don't ring a bell to me," King shrugged. "You?"
Abby said "Not offhand. Some vague references on line.. but I haven't had time to chase them down yet. I have a spyder chasing down items associated with that phrase, booleans thereof, and variants. It'll probably be a huge download, mostly full of garbage. Common word search."
"Threat assessment?" from Blade, glancing from one to the other of them.
"Huh." King thought a moment. "Very high. In general, anyway. Gives off all the vibes of 'one dangerous babe', in spades. To us... ?" He opened his eyes, looked serious for a moment. "No way of telling." He shrugged. "My gut says 'No', but only if we handle it right. Probably make a very bad enemy, and I don't like the smell of the organizations around her. Especially not the Wolfram and Hart association."
Blade looked inquiring. "Evil Law Firm. Rumor has it there's Bad Juju around them," King supplied.
Blade nodded, stared off into the distance for a long moment. History of the murder/torturer past clicked the girl's unguarded 'Hunting redemption' comment into place for him. "We'll see. No way to figure out anything more, really, until she wakes up." He picked up the assortment of ID, credit cards, and money and began carefully replacing it in Faith's wallet and coat pockets exactly as it'd originally been.
"And we can talk to her," Abby added. "All of the stuff I dug up, news, surface crap from and on the IWC and NYCFGW, is in a file. You two can look it over later at leisure if you want - we covered all the important highlights here. Lots of data, damned scanty information, anyway. I agree with Hannibal: probably high threat, but no real reason to believe it's threat to us, unless we piss her off. Or her associates get too curious about us."
"So... " Hannibal shot Blade an overly wide-eyed look. "She followed you home. Can we keep her? Can we huh?"
Blade nodded. "I'll even change her litter box," he said, standing.
King's jaw dropped, and he looked goggle-eyed at Abigail. "Was that a joke?! Blade just made a joke?!" He looked at Blade in horror. "Blade NEVER jokes!"
Abby snickered. "Of course not. He keeps you around for comedy relief so he doesn't have to."
"Ow. I'm wounded. Deeply. Even if it is true." He yawned, stretching. "That does it, I'm off to bed. It's past daylight, and life just got wayyy too surreal for me."
Blade stretched also, rolling his neck to the sounds of crackling noises. "I'm going to take a quick turn of various bars around the waterfront district, see if I can spot her bike. Got some energy to burn since I didn't get to kill much of anything."
King spun and pointed an imperious finger at him. "No more of that unseemly jocularity around here, young man. We won't have it. Won't. Have. It, I tell you."
Blade gave Abby one of those ghost half-smiles, and picked up the bike keys from the counter. "Later." His pack was starting to come along nicely, finally, he mused. Filling the surprisingly empty place that Whistler's death had left in him. Be interesting to find out where this 'Faith" fit in: enemy, or possible friend.