Chapter 7: "We break up their party and kill the crap out of 'em"

Place was called 'Perditions'. Converted warehouse with a black paint job, and a red interior. Low lights, lots of smoke, indefinable smells. And things that crawled, slithered, creeped, and gurgled sitting at the bar and various booths/tables.

Everything in the place's eyes - or equivalents - cut over when the door slammed open and a not-very-large dark-haired human woman wearing a long leather coat and sunglasses walked in like she owned the joint, paused and stood for a moment like she was waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimness. Gave the place a visible and casual once over, contempt and arrogance evident in every inch of her, and sauntered to the bar. More than a few eyes wandered to the closing door, speculating on exactly why the bouncer'd not bounced her and where he might be.

Bartender for the evening was a tall being with jet-black skin, a mouth full of fangs, curling horns, and a humanlike face over a body and gut like a massive pro-wrestler gone to flab. He had a mouth full of sarcastic remark when she stopped a few feet in front of him, removed the shades and parked them on the top of her head. Whatever he'd been thinking to say died in his mouth as those calm brown eyes met his without a lick of fear and instead "What'll you have?" came out.

"Beer. Draft."

He poured it, taking his time, as four of the more human looking patrons got up and came sauntering over. She turned casually as they approached, but said nothing.

"Hey, B'yarj. You order in take out for us? That's so sweet." His companions snickered.

He went into full game face and snarled, "What you rolling your eyes at, blood bag?" and reached out grabbing her by her coat.

That was the theory, anyway. A short sword no one'd seen whicked through the space between his chin and shoulders and the reaching hand poofed into a fall of dust, along with the rest of him. The blade came to rest on a leather-clad shoulder and an amused gaze swept the remaining three.

"Oh look! Dusty! I thought you licks in these parts went all sparkles when whacked. Shows me, huh." Eyes met and locked with the yellow ones of what she'd evidently pegged as the pack's 2IC. Her voice was conversational, non threatening, amused, "'Take out'. 'Blood bag'. You cannot believe how many thousands of times I've heard those. You idiots really need to think up some new quips." She cocked her head, thoughtfully. "Oh wait - you can't. Being Turned kills braincells."

Her eyes raked over the three, coming back to the one she'd settled on. "Take your best shot, chuckles. I ain't gettin' any younger." He left game face abruptly as he realized both his associates had taken a step back. "Otherwise, sit the fuck back down and nurse your rancid B-positive and maybe you'll unlive a bit longer."

The female minion just behind him snarled out, "Just who the fuck do you think you are? And what do you think your odds are of living long enough to walk out that door again, alive?"

"Faith."

It just kinda rolled out there and laid flat, and a number of patrons who'd stood quietly having half-assed thoughts of joining in sat back down silently, and found something engrossing in their drinks to pay attention to. Others watched with unabashed fascination.

"And, better than average, I'd say." That had come out cocky, or arrogant, things might have gone different. She sounded bored.

That did it. The three vampires vaporised to their table so fast you'd have thought they dusted themselves. She swept a blinding and not-unfriendly smile around the room, and turned back to the bar. A few recipients of that flashing grin even smiled back, before they remembered themselves.

B'yarj just set her beer in front of her, and shook his head. "Vamps."

"Yeah." She looked him over and met his eyes, laying the sword down on the bar top. "So, 'B'yarj', huh?"

"Yup. Me." He nodded. "Slayer."

"Yup." She took a pull on the beer, glanced into the bar mirror. "Am I going to have any problems here?"

He gave her a thoughtful look. "Depends. No one gives a shit about vamps. It's how you handle them that counts." She nodded.

Turning and leaning against the bar, she eyed the three demons walking up to her calmly. They were humanoid, red-skinned and scaled, heads crested with a row of horns, and wearing very expensive suits that they managed to make look like something a cheap mobster would wear. The lead one stopped in front of her, just out of sword's reach. She smiled as he nodded to her. "Slayer."

"Got it in one."

He chuckled. "Kind of hard not to. What're you here for?" He gave her what he probably thought was a hard look. "Business, or pleasure?"

"Business. Friend named Lorne said this place was ok."

"Ah. And how's he doing lately?"

"Movin' up in the world. Or down, depending on your opinion of bloodsucking lawyers." She smirked. He inclined his head, smiled something that had no humor in it.

"What kind of business?"

"I could be a smartass and say 'Slayer business', but I'm really not looking for a fight." He nodded. "So... " she glanced past him to where his boss was sitting. "This a private Q&A, or you mind if I address it to the whole place so I don't have to do it twice?" When he shrugged and indicated no preference, she nodded and stepped out into the room. Parked one foot on a chair.

Raising her voice to carry, "Ok, listen up everyone: I really don't care to have to do this twice. Don't have the time, don't have the patience." She swept her gaze across the room, seeing all eyes, and other things, on her. Nodded. "Right."

"My name is Faith. I'm The Slayer." She gave it a moment to sink in.

"Apocalypse Season's starting. I'm not really interested in rousting any of you, except the leeches, but if I don't get a handle on this, isn't going to matter what I want: you'll be in the killzone. By now, all of you know what I am, or if not, someone's explained it to you."

"Whatever 'it' is, it's Big, it's Bad, and it's goin' down. It is not going to leave any bystanders. There ain't no 'uninvolved' here. I'm going to stop it. World don't end on my watch." Anyone had doubtful expressions at that, they kept them to themselves. "I want to know Who, What, When, and Where. Gimme something, and I owe you one, as long as it's something I will do." She paused, looking around the room. "Get in my way, and you're dead."

She brought her foot off the chair and straightened. Leader of the three red-skins inclined his head to a table. "Boss wants to see you." She nodded and sauntered over with him, pulling her sword off the bar and sheathing it at her back.

'Boss' was a brown skinned humanoid with rows of bone spurs along the sides of his scalp, and jawline. He also had an expensive suit that he didn't make look cheap. He didn't introduce himself, and she didn't ask. "Slayer."

She inclined her head, accepting the title. Turned a chair around and sat in it facing him, arms across the back. "Thug."

He laughed. "No fear, huh?" Not waiting for an answer, he said "Nice speech. I'm impressed. Most of your kind, when they come down here, they throw their weight around, break heads even when it's not needed, threaten and bluster, make a bad scene. You: brief, blunt, to the point. No fuss, no muss."

She laughed. "There isn't any 'my kind'. I'm the only one of me."

"That's for sure." He nodded, "You get my meaning. Other Slayers."

She shrugged, nodded. "I got weight, don't need to throw it. I don't threaten: I kill. I know about Respect, when to show it, when to demand it. I know courtesy, when I'm not rushed. I don't waste words, or time, on bullshit." She met his lambent eyes and locked them. "You're gettin' perilously close to wasting time I don't have."

His eyes broke first and she smiled. "Yeah. Seerers and portents say something nasty's coming, and they're moving on. Fringe players are leaving, and hard cases are coming in. Lot's of vamps, lots of leeches. I don't know what's coming, but I'm staying, get me?" She nodded. "This is my town." He grimaced. "I'll keep my ears open, ask around a bit. Can I reach you if anything breaks?"

She scribbled her new number on a card and slid it over to him. "I'll be around. 'Preciate it." Stood and turned to the door.

"Watch yer back, kiddo," he called after.

She turned slightly and looked back at him from under a fall of dark hair. "I'm the thing that hunts the monsters. They need to watch their backs from me." Her voice was soft, and he wasn't a coward... but damned if that didn't send a cold ripple up his spine.

Door had long closed on her back by the time he looked away.

...

The night started young, but it got old fast. She repeated the performance at the other two places Lorne'd given her with similar results. Only had to make a splash at one of them, and she didn't have to hack her way out. Paid call on the name he'd given her, and one a bartender'd passed on, and repeated the speech, request, and warning. Noted a couple of leech bars along the way, but left them alone for now. Not too productive a night, unless you considered several killing attempts by vamps and leeches 'productive'. She didn't. She left dust and ash behind her and moved on.

Word got around. Things asked questions, passed out warnings. Things started happening, but not so's one could see the results. And not fast enough.

Time to rattle things and see what shook loose. She just wished she knew what to rattle.

She ended up on a rooftop about a mile or so away from Blade's, looking out over the harbour. She watched the trash bobbing in the moonlight, and thought about death, and love, and change. Her mood went from dark to black, and then a lethal serenity settled into her as the sound of the waves lulled her human side to sleep and broke the chains on the Other inside. An almost forgotten phrase came to her from somewhere: 'One foot in the past, one in the future, all you can do with the present is piss on it.' She threw back her head and laughed, Death in a long coat: Slayer. Seek. Hunt. Kill.

Predators live in the now. They know when to move, and when to watch above the game trails, lurking. So be it. She laughed again, and power walked within her. 'Later then. We wait.'

And hunting things felt the power in the darkness, and got real still, real fast, or left for other haunts.

She thought for an endless while, running everything through her mind. Not worrying at it, just moving the bits and pieces around and seeing where they connected, where they settled. Making sure that she had all the parts fixed her awareness, so they'd be there when something else came up to click with them.

When she was done, she pulled out her council-cell and picked a number off the bottom of the contacts. Didn't ring long.

"'Lo." The voice was tired, but not sleep fogged.

"Vi."

"Faith. You know what time it is?" She sounded half annoyed.

"2am. Beginning of rush hour in Slayer time. You weren't asleep."

"Ha. No. Damned good thing we don't need much, either." She did give a yawn stifling sound, "You sound good, if a bit remote. Whatcha doing?"

"Heard you had a visit from the Slay-faerie and she left a Slay-dream under your pillow."

"My. You do get around. You too?" evidently Dawn hadn't mentioned her call, or Vi was playing cute and quiet.

"Yeah. You were in mine. Figured I might have been in yours." She chuckled. "Gotta stop meeting like that."

"No doubt." No yawns now, all tiredness banished. Faith could almost feel the other girl straightening alert. "Any idea what, when, who, where?"

"Hunt. Seek. Kill, huh?" Faith smiled into the phone.

"It's what we do."

"Yeah. No. No clue, not yet. Wondered if you had any clues?"

"No. Maybe. Giles is digging, but no dice. Ran it past one of the people we have on call... he said and-I-quote: 'felt a shifting in realities'. He also saw a sword, but nothing else." She described it, as detailed as she could: evidently reading from notes by the rustle of paper.

"Huh. Run that description past me again." Vi did, carefully. "Rings a bell, somehow."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Maybe. Can't quite put my mind's eye on it though. Hrrmm... "

"If you do, let me know. I'm thinking about calling in the troops... " She trailed off as Faith cut in.

"No."

"No? What do you mean 'No'?" Vi gave an exasperated snort. "Faith, you can't keep us out of this and hotdog. This is my backyard now."

"Instinct. Dreams. Word from On High. I've been given this one." She frowned into the phone and cut over the other slayer. "Don't worry: you're not out of it. Dream says you're in. But it's my Call, my Calling. You're going to have to gear up for war, get the kidlets ready for what's coming." She said into the silence: "You know how this goes: Bastards that Be aren't much for details, but they are pretty damned hardliner on Players. We fuck this up, everyone dies."

"Yeah. Well, haven't had the personal PTFY experience, but I've heard the tales."

"I've got the t-shirt and souvenir ashtrays." She gentled her voice, "I'm not pulling rank, Vi. There ain't no 'rank' in this. Only two rules: Don't Die, and Do The Job."

sigh "Ok. Research, prepare, watch, wait. Then what?"

"As soon as I figure it out, you'll be in the top five with a Need to Know. I say we break up their party and kill the crap out of 'em." Faith grinned. "I'll be in touch."