No, Really, I Am an American

It doesn’t take us long to get back to Netherfield. The moment I cross the threshold I demand to be logged onto a secure line.

Topher says nothing and simply brings me his laptop while Meredith remains behind me. I wonder vaguely what she is thinking as I log on.

“Tap me in, Viczen,” I all but hiss. “This is the sort of conversation that needs to be done verbally.”

“Copy that, Wildcat.”

The screen comes to life and Tim sits back, a calm smile on his lips. “I was expecting you,” he observes smoothly. “Glad to see you still live up to certain expectations. I trust everything went well.”

“Just what the hell are you playing at, Tim?”

His expression sobers. “Now you understand why we’re needed.”

“What’s this about?”

“They’re evolving, Jaye,” Tim explains.

See what I mean about things going smooth? “How the hell did this happen? I thought the situation was contained.”

“You of all people know better than that, Wildcat. Things are never that simple. This team was the best, and evidently still is. You took care of five of them against some pretty interesting circumstances.”

“How did you…?” No…you didn’t…please tell me you didn’t… “You sent them here.”

He nods, “You had to see.”

He sees my reaction and decides to add a salt to the wound. “You’re not the only one who can do things for personal reasons.”

I bite, “Screw you, Tim.”

His lips twist into a smirk, “Already played that game, Jaye.” Shaking his head, he continues, “Look, you of all people must understand. Gather the rest of your team and Jump.”

“Is that an order, Senator?”

Tim’s eyes flash dangerously, “And don’t you forget it.”

He logs off.

With visibly shaking hands, I close the laptop. My senses and emotions begin to swirl.

“Jaye,” Topehr’s voice brings me back to reality. He puts a hand on my shoulder gently. “We ought to get your shoulder stitched up.”

I say nothing. I follow one of my oldest friends into the bathroom. I barely register Topher dressing the wound.

Betrayal shouldn’t be anything new to me, I think bitterly. Don’t I know all about it first hand? Karma’s a bitch sometimes.

You fucking moron. What did you expect?

Shut up.

This isn’t his fault you know.

…It’s mine…

What the expression? We reap what we sow?

“Jaye, you gonna be all right?” me Da queries gently.

“Yeah, I barely feel it.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“I know.” Topher had the presence of mind to bring me a clean shirt. I pull it on and exit the bathroom with one goal in mind…

At least I don’t have to walk a mile…

I’m smoking a Camel Light on Topher and Meredith’s back porch. I love Camels. I wish I could explain it, but I really think you’d have to be a smoker to understand; which, for the record, I don’t recommend.

My mind is kind of blank right now. Fuck, that ain’t true…obviously. It’s more like I don’t want to think about much of anything right now is the point. Call it denial…cowardice…whatever.

I’m blowing out a puff of smoke when I hear the door. I don’t bother looking around because I know it’s her.

“I thought you gave up that filthy habit.”

I blow out a smoke ring. “We can see how well giving up habits has been, love,” I tell her mildly. “What do you care anyway? Don’t you want me dead?”

“You know that’s not true.” There’s actually an edge to her statement.

“My shoulder says otherwise.”

“Cut the bullshit, Jaye,” she retorts. “You know that was an accident.”

I shrug.

“Spare me the melodrama and the pity party, babe,” she tells me dryly. “It isn’t becoming.”

I smirk. I can always count on Meredith to put me in my place. I take one last, long, exaggerated drag of my Camel and stub it out. “Can’t help myself, love. I live to be dramatic.”

Mer blows out a sharp burst of breath. “What’s the plan?”

I shrug. I’ve been doing that an awful lot around her. “I’m not exactly plan chick.”

“Get your head out of your ass, Jaye! We don’t have time for you to be all broody.”

My jaw clenches. Oh, but it’s so much fun, I want to whine. Fuck if she’s not right, though. Seriously. When did I turn into such a whiney bitch? Get it together, girly. Youse gots some misbehavin’ to be done.

“Connor.”

Something in Meredith’s expression brightens. She actually smiles. “You know, I’ve actually missed him.”

I laugh. “You say that now, but then he’ll beat you at poker or something and it will be all downhill from there.”

“I have many hidden talents,” Mer says lightly. “Don’t underestimate me.”

I cannot help but grin. This is my friend Meredith. For a moment, all the tension and mistrust between us abates.

It is not long lived, to my great misfortune. There is a palpable beat and then Meredith’s expression and body language shifts, her eyes again adopt a dark edge uncharacteristic of Meredith at normal times. “We’re packing up,” she explains, her voice reflecting her demeanor. “We’ll be ready to go within the hour.”

I take this as an invitation to smoke another cigarette. She barely conceals her disgust. Some things never chance. She goes back into the house without another word.

It frustrates me that it’s come to this. I appreciate Mer’s frankness, however. It pulls me back as quickly as I had been sinking.

They don’t pack much. When Mer said they were packing up, she wasn’t really talking about a roll-aboard or anything. In every one of our residences, a secret room contains our other life. We store mostly weapons. We can be stark naked but as long as we’ve got something to fight with in our hands, we’re golden. (This isn’t to say we’re screwed without weapons – they just make things more fun. Like grenades.)

“Let’s get out of here,” Meredith says evenly.

There are some things Mer just can’t hide from me. She’s clearly upset despite the cold hard mask she attempts to wear. You can see it in her eyes.

I can sympathize, but that’s the extent of it.

“What happens to the house?” Topher queries.

“Burn it,” Mer growls.

“No,” I tell them. Ah, there’s the glare that’s been lacking these past few minutes.

“Don’t save it ‘cuz you plan on giving it back to us…”

“I’m not,” I reply flatly. “We might need to come back here. Besides, a fire would be hard to create.” Okay, so that last part is an incredibly flimsy explanation.

She wants to tell me off, I know. She doesn’t though…not that I’m overly bummed by that fact. Mer walk on ahead of us without another word.

Unconsciously, Topher takes the key from his pocket and then stops. “Should I even bother?”

“No one who isn’t supposed to will come by here,” I answer.

“Are you sure?”

I’m about to give me Da a look, but then recalling what Tim has told me about the Infecteds, I gotta admit, I ain’t too sure anymore.

Topher locks up anyway.

I know what you’re thinking. Is a deadbolt and a hunk of wood gonna make much of a gorram difference? What do ya take us for? Fools? The lock itself activates a bit of a homemade security system, courtesy of our techrats, of course.

“Where we headed?” Topher inquires.

“Death Valley.”

Me Da nods slowly. “Should we locate any of the others?”

I grin, “I like the way you think, Da.”

“Perhaps we oughtta come up with a plan.”

“Not here. Let’s go back to my townhouse and go from there.” I look to Meredith, trying to gauge her reaction. She simply nods, “Agreed. You’re probably better equipped for this.”

I’m grateful for her compliance.

***

I walk into the building with easy confidence. It has been quite a while since I’d last stepped foot in this place, but I remember what to do and where to go.

I sign in quickly and provide the proper identification.

The range ain’t spectacular or anything, not like some of the others Conner is keen on going to, but it’s convenient for what he needs.

I take the glasses and the earmuffs from the attendant and make my way to the actual shooting range.

I had never been one for firearms. I know, sounds crazy. I use ‘em out of necessity mostly. But honestly, they make me nervous.

There are only a few people in the stalls. I’m grateful for the earmuffs as the staccato of bullets sound throughout the room. I find an empty one and pull out my Sig Sauer P226 9mm pistol.

I load both the bullets and then the target. I take careful aim. I may not like the weapon in my hands very much, but I know how to handle it.

There’s something strange about firing a gun. Something powerful. I guess there’s something powerful about holding any kind of weapon or knowing what you’re really capable of, but guns are a whole different kind of power. When the bullet discharges from the chamber it’s wicked fast, and believe me when I tell you it’s painful. Funny what a tiny piece of metal is capable of.

Focus.

I have my target in my line of sight. I squeeze the trigger.

I smirk and lower the weapon. I don’t need to use the whole round to hit my target. I’d always been a one shot kind of gal.

I know he noticed. I can feel his Signature coming closer. “I knew it was you,” Connor’s familiar drawl remarks. He pushes the button to bring in the target; only in my case, it’s sans target since I shot out the pipe that was meant to hold it. He heaves an aggrieved sigh, “Only one person can be that shitty of a shot.”

I full out grin and face him. He’s clad in black, just as I expected him to be. “Well, I had a shitty teacher.”

“Hey, I was a great teacher,” Connor protests. “It isn’t my fault you didn’t take to it.” He smiles then, smacking me smartly on the shoulder. “How are you, Jaye?”

We were never ones for hugs, and I totally respect that. I smile apologetically, “I have some delicate business to discuss with you. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Connor’s face is emotionless, but his eyes convey both surprise and curiosity. He is right to be concerned; I am rarely so formal. “I have the feeling I’m gonna want a drink.”

“I’ll buy.”

We walk out into the parking lot in silence. The sun begins its descent and long shadows are cast into the desert.

And there it is.

That gorram tingle.

Oh, for cryin’ out…

“You all right?”

“Five by five.”

“You’re kinda scowly.”

“It’s a new look I’m going for,” I reply. I had really hoped that I coulda done this in a less public forum (not the parking lot is filled with people), but it seems like Tim doesn’t want to give me that luxury. “Connor, buddy, I’m really sorry about this…”

“What are you…?”

Flash!

I gotta give Connor props. He doesn’t waver. He just kinda starts a little and then he’s all kinds of standing military attention. I can’t say with authority I know what it’s like to have a flood of memories assaulting your senses, but it wigged out Topher and Mer, and they ain’t exactly porcelain dolls.

Connor regards me soberly. He nods curtly, “Wildcat.”

Roland and I have an understanding, something I don’t think Topher or Meredith ever really embraced. We’re both Warriors in every sense of the word. Neither one of us is really meant to be anything but.

Maybe that’s why I never tried.

Connor’s head cocks suddenly, as the rush of the Infecteds’s presence makes itself known to him more effectively. His muscles tense and his hand unconsciously moves to the weapon that isn’t at his side.

He scowls. “Ruttin’ society,” he mutters.

I can’t help but chuckle a bit. Despite his part as a police officer, he is very conscious of the rules of this society.

“Where’re Darrow and Silver Fox? I assume their awake.”

“They’ve got missions of their own,” I reply.

It’s down to business. Much like my first night back in the fight, Connor has a bag of tricks in his backseat. Of course, it’s more legitimate for him, what with the whole “to protect and serve” bit. We’re also at a gorram firing range so it’s none suspicious.

“Viczen?”

The Tear shimmers before us. There’s something like a feral glint in Connor’s eye as he selects his own weapon: a Heckler and Koch USP .45 Tactical pistol.

If I remember correctly, I think he calls that one “Jayne”.

We step through and the buzz gets wicked intense.

“What the hell?”

“I know. I’ll explain later.”

Okay. Now here’s where things get a bit wonky. The Tear takes us to the middle of the desert. What the hell can the Infected do all the ways out here? There’s no reason.

“They’re drawin’ us out,” Connor declares. “They’re ruttin’ drawin’ us out.”

I say nothing. He’s right, and I damn well know it. Fuck. Why would they do this? This isn’t run-of-the-mill. Not like I should be surprised, but this is happening way too quickly.

“Heads up, Wildcat,” Roland warns. “We’ve got a live one. Make that ones,” he amends quickly.

“In range?” Sometimes I wish I had the power to stop stupid things from coming out of my mouth. Connor just give me a look and I cut off his remark; “Of course not. Sorry.”

Roland woulda already picked them off by now if they were close.

We take off in their general direction. The buzz kinda feels like there’s about four of ‘em. That seems fair. A bit odd that their playing in numbers, but still.

We can handle it.

Especially now that we’s gots guns.

Roland’s eyes are shining. He targets one of ‘em. I almost feel sorry for it.

The Infected flees across the desert, and the man in black follows.

I still got my own pistol in my hand. I see another one. We don’t need to worry about tags. Thing of it is, if they ain’t playin’ by the rules, neither are we.

I may not like this weapon, but I’m a damn fair shot with it.

Wait.

Wait!

Something…something isn’t right about this.

They’re running.

They’re running from us.

Why?

They’re the ones that brought us here. They’re the ones that drew us out. Why would they run?

This isn’t right.

“Roland!”

I hear the gunshots. My vision narrows and I can see fire exploding from Jayne. The Infected goes down.

Okay. Maybe my spidey sense is broken.

This sweep goes much smoother than Boston, what with Jayne and my own pistol. Too freaking easy if you ask me.

“So what’s the what, Wildcat?” Connor asks after we’ve taken down the last of ‘em.

I shrug. “We got called back to duty.”

“This was stupid,” he says bluntly. He takes the discs and the solvent from me and goes to work.

I look at the bodies for a moment. I ain’t taken much notice to ‘em, not since that girl in the alley. I’m about to place one of the discs on this one when something catches my eye.

Something’s blinking.

Something…like an explosive…

“Viczen!”

****************************************************

Ahem.

First of all, suspension of disbelief, people. Second, don’t forget it’s crap! Third, for serious, I’ve had the first part of this written since the last post…I just didn’t know how to make it all work.

Disclaimers disclaimed as in Chapter 1.

“As You Were” - 6.15, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

I could have Jumped.

I could have made it to Boston in a matter of minutes rather than the hour and a half flight from O’Hare to Logan. I’m fooling myself. I’m such a liar.

I am the great pretender.

I don’t Jump because I have it planted in my brain that if I do this the old fashioned way, I’m letting Topher and Meredith savor this life just a little more. Who am I kidding? They don’t know to savor it because this is their life. They remember nothing of the Infected. They remember nothing of fighting.

They remember nothing of us.

I am such a coward.

I’m so afraid.

They’ll hate me for this. And I won’t be able to handle it.

I need them. They’re my twin pillars of strength. Without them for my foundation I won’t be able to do what is needed. I won’t be able to fight. For them. For us. Connor and I may have always been in the thick of things, but we always relied on Topher and Meredith. They kept us human.

We all trained together under the guidance of Cap and the evasive Ordo’nai — Omni and Lore. Connor and I were made for this kind of life, Topher and Meredith just happened upon it. None of us were really meant to be Warriors, but those two especially deserved some kind of normalcy.

They weren’t great fighters.

They were just two people who tried to do the right thing.

I sit on the Silver Line and watch the city of Boston bustle by me. They chose this city because of what it represented. Security. Culture. White picket fence. Regardless of where we come from and what we’ve seen, we still harbor a desire for these shiny things.

It was Topher who specifically chose to live here. He was in love with the city, with the academic community, with the history that exuded from this place…and the fact that not a single gorram road ran straight. (Topher is an peculiar fellow.)

I think about their choice absently as the bus approaches South Station. I make my transfer to the Red Line here. A cold, sinking feeling settles and permeates in my stomach. I’m maybe twenty minutes away from stealing their lives.

They think we went to school together. It’s kind of true. It was more like an academy…of sorts. Instead of being trained as scholars, we were trained as Warriors.

The car I sit on is peppered with students. You can tell. They’ve got this look about them. Like they have no idea how they’re going to crank out a twenty-five page paper and still make it to the kegger in time.

Okay. So not all of them are like that. But there’s definitely an intense look to them in their twenty-something expressions.

They’re not much older or younger than me. And yet…

Kendall. This is my stop.

I follow the flush of students topside to Main Street. I pull out my cell phone and make like every other person this side of the ‘verse. The difference between my call and theirs is that I’m using mine to locate my friends.

We each have a particular Signature, one that Viczen and Omni can always trace. It’s generally how I manage to find Cap when he’s wandering the world.

“Do you read me?”

“Copy that, Wildcat,” Viczen replies. “Searching.”

I wait patiently for Viczen to work her magic, savoring the few seconds I have left before seeing them again. Don’t get me wrong, I do want to see them. They’re my friends. We’ve always been friends. It’s just…

“Got it. Sending coordinates now.”

I press the phone to my ear a little more. Viczen doesn’t need to tell me aurally. In a matter of seconds, I’ll know exactly where they are. Their Signatures hum in the back of my mind. “Linked.”

“Going dark. Good luck, Wildcat.”

Viczen’s signal goes out.

I snap my cell closed and put it back in my bag. I decide to go to Topher first. I figure, he’ll be more forgiving than Meredith. His Signature is coming from Pierce Labratory on the other side of campus. I head towards Mass Ave.

I wish I had a cigarette.

Time is on my side. As I approach Pierce, I spot Topher easily and it has nothing to do with his Signature. Has he gotten taller?

“Topher.”

I don’t shout for him. I don’t need to. I know he would hear me even if I had no voice. We’re all just wired that way.

“Jaye!”

I’m caught in a familiar embrace. It doesn’t squeeze the air out of me like you’d expect. It’s affectionate and friendly.

I peer up at him, “I think I’m shrinking.”

He smiles his affable, open and friendly smile. “You don’t drink enough milk.”

“Whatever, Da.”

I’ve always called Topher me Da. Honestly, I can’t even remember how it started. But that’s the name I’m more apt to call him than “Topher”.

Topher’s brow furrows, “Wait. Were we expecting you?”

I so want to tease him. Topher is notorious for being absent-minded about things like this, meeting times, visits, etc. I just smile. “Nah, I was in the neighborhood and thought I would stop by. Is that okay?”

He processes this information in his brain. He shakes his head, “Wait, what? Don’t be silly.” Me Da slings an arm around me, “You’re always welcome. Besides, Meredith will be thrilled to see you.”

I smile weakly, “Yeah.”

Oh Da, if you only knew the real reason I was here…

Topher and Meredith live in a lovely colonial house closer to Radcliffe than their own university. When things were being decided, they were uncertain about which school they wanted to attend; they could have chosen anywhere in the city from Harvard to the Boston Conservatory. Strangely enough, the house was decided on before the school.

It had been Meredith’s choice. The moment she saw it, she was in love with it. I made the necessary arrangements and by the time they decided on MIT, they were already settled in.

Meredith named the house Netherfield.

I had honestly been surprised by her choice of institution. When she picked the house by Radcliffe, I seriously expected her to enroll there to pursue a Master’s in Women’s Studies. Instead, she chose to nurture her scientific mind at MIT.

If the circumstances had been different, I would have teased her about picking the school just because of Topher. But the circumstances were what they were and I kept my smart mouth shut.

Netherfield, as far as Topher and Meredith knew, belonged to some distant relative of Topher’s and he had inherited it upon said relative’s passing. It was all rather convenient. They hadn’t planned on living together, but economically speaking, it made the most sense for both of them. Especially since all the finances and furnishings had been taken care of; all they needed to worry about was food and personal expenses.

My step falters on the drive. Me Da is several strides ahead of me. I stare at the house. Their house. Netherfield represents so much, means so much…

To them…

To me…

To all of us.

“Something shiny,” I whisper.

“Jaye, you coming?”

I jog up the drive, abandoning whatever feelings I have for something shiny and focus on the mission at hand. Now is not the time to be all reflective and wistful. Now is the time to act.

My spine is already tingling.

I cross the threshold, my hand closed around the silver orb in my pocket.

“Oh my gosh, Jaye!”

I’m caught in a very enthusiastic embrace. I smile in spite of myself, “Hey, Red.”

Meredith pulls back, a bright upon her lips. “I didn’t know you were coming,” she notes.

“Spur of the moment,” I reply. “You know me, reckless and stupid.”

“Well come in, come in. Don’t stand in the foyer all night. Are you hungry? I just made some fajitas, but if don’t want Mexican we can head out to the Asgard…Jaye?”

I haven’t moved. I stare at the ground, I can’t look at them right now.

Meredith’s brow furrows, “Hey, what’s up?” She reaches toward me but I step back. I pull out the silver orb. “Jaye…?” Topher queries softly.

I look at both them, at their open concern, at their life of ignorance, at the life they deserve…and I falter. The tingling does not abate, however, and I can feel an Infected – make that Infecteds — nearby.

“I’m sorry,” I say honestly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Jaye, what’s wr—”

I hold out the orb, “We’re needed.”

A blinding flash illuminates the room, briefly bathing it in the brightest of lights. Topher and Meredith stagger slightly. I know their memories and instincts are assaulting their senses. My heart aches for them.

I really do regret having to do this.

Me Da is the first to regain his composure. His face is expressionless as he regards me, “Wildcat.”

I nod once, “Silverfox.”

I look to Meredith. She still hasn’t moved, she’s propping herself against the wall. “Darrow.”

She looks at me sharply. I meet her gaze evenly. It is not the first time I have seen such a dark look in my friend’s eyes. Meredith strides toward me purposefully. “God damn you, Jaye,” she says lowly.

My cheek is suddenly burning. I am not surprised at Meredith’s reaction. I deserve much worse to be honest. But it still doesn’t mean it hurts any less. I can’t let her know that, though. Especially now. I do not bring my hand to the spot where she has struck me and instead look back at her. I say nothing.

Meredith turns from me. “Selfish bitch,” she mutters and heads upstairs.

Topher moves to follow her. “I’ll go talk to her,” he says. He is about to follow when he stops. “Jaye, for what it’s worth…I understand. But I can’t say I’m happy.”

I bow my head, “I know. We have to hurry.”

**************

Wow. You waited that long for this crap?

“Living Conditions” - 4.01, Buffy:The Vampire Slayer

“We’re needed.”

It’s times like this I wish I were a drinking person — I would totally be downing shots right about now in some dive bar.

But that’s not who I am. I had always had a preference to have my wits about me. I like being able to remember things. I like keeping myself in check. I always thought of it as being responsible.

Fuck responsibility. I need a drink.

When I drink, I drink alone. Not a healthy choice, I admit. But it’s really just safer for everybody if this way. Bars have people, male-type people who always have a magnet for wallowers like myself. The sweet, sympathetic, understanding type of fellow who is really just trying to get in my pants. They usual arouse my urge to kill more than anything else. All the more reason to drink alone. Brain cells and memories would be my only victims.

I drive to the nearest liqour store and buy not one, not two, but three bottles of Jack and yes a pack of Camel Lights. If I’m gonna wallow I’m sure as hell gonna do it right!

I’m not halfway out the door when I feel something, a familiar tingling that works its way up my spine and spreads throughout my body, down my arms and legs. And it stirs an instinct long buried. I scowl and hurry to my car. “Not a chance,” I mutter. “You made your choice.”

It’s still there…that feeling, that instinct. In the back of my head, deep inside my very being. It is rearing and clawing to cut loose. I plant my hands firmly on the steering wheel. I’m not that person anymore…I’m not! I can’t be…

I hear a muffled scream. Part of me is surprised. They’re losing their touch. When we were on the prowl, their victims never used to scream. Then again, we never really gave them a chance to have any victims.

If you don’t do something, there will be consequences.

“Shut up.”

Are you really going to deny the Master?

“It’s not the Master I am denying.”

You can’t let them win. You made your choice.

“And they made theirs!”

Silence.

Dammit. I hate arguing with my conscience. Pisses me off something fierce. Especially when we’re both right.

“Soofa bitch!” I tilt the driver’s seat back until the headrest touches the backseat and reach underneath for my bag of tricks. Satisfied that I have certain necessary items, I abandon my car and follow my instincts.

They haven’t Jumped. This guy must be a rookie. I roll my eyes when I come to an alley. Memories of the Master’s Chronicles surface as I take on this scene. A victim in the clutches of evil, begging for his life, blah blah blah.

I don’t make with the quips like the Master’s protagonist. Frankly, I’m not that witty. I go for one of my favorite weapons and unfurl the tactical baton. It’s true I prefer my sword above all else, but I’m in a bludgeoning mood. Seriously. It hasn’t been my day.

The Infected sees me and I think it realizes what I am. The difference between this situation and the Chronicles is that unlike those demons, the Infected don’t dispose of their victims upon seeing a Warrior. They’d much rather try and get the most out of the victim while they have the chance.

It’s a matter of speed now.

Which is something that I have always been complimented on. I don’t give the creature the chance to get its hands where they need to be and I charge, using the baton like a short sword in a fleche. Now it has to react.

And it does, just like I expect. It backs up, abandoning its victim finally. It guesses I’ll keep on with this rush attack. Come on, give me some credit here. I come short and slam my shoulder forcefully into the victim and swing my baton around in a wide arc.

Yeah, I know. What the hell am I thinking?

I’m thinking this jack ass will read my attack the way I would. Like I don’t have a ruttin’ clue how to fight. Wide slashes. Wild attacks. Reckless and stupid.

I wasn’t dubbed “Wildcat” for nothing.

Wild and stupid though they may be, they’re a shield. If the victim had already been Infected, I wouldn’t care. But he’s not. He’s staring. Wide eyed and frightened. Good for you. You’re right to be scared.

The Infected backs up. If it weren’t a rookie, it would know exactly what I’m doing. But obviously it’s new at this. Yay for me.

When I force it far enough away from its victim, I draw in and wait. I won’t lie. I kinda have a death wish. Maybe this way I won’t have to choose. I won’t have to rip them from everything they ever wanted. I won’t have to…

Are you serious? Wipe that stupid sneer off your face. Quit pretending you can gauge me. Attack!

It comes at me in the same manner I did it, wild attack. Here’s the part where I’m better than you. Rather than retreat, I come to meet it. He-llo! It’s called blocking! I take some pretty good hits, I admit. I’m little, I don’t have the greatest reach, and I can barely lift my own body weight. Damn, when Connor finds out, he’s gonna be pissed….

But I’m springy. I take a nice downward blow and absorb the force. Using the momentum, I flip my attacker over. I used to have honor. I used to believe in it and embrace it like it my life depended on it.

Now I’m just pissed. I don’t give it a chance to regain its footing and just wail on the beast. Regardless of if a human is Infected or not, the head is still vulnerable.

And it’s the first place I target. Ever take a blow to the head? It’s likely to disorient you. Unless you’re one of us. We’re all hard headed. Especially Connor.

I don’t even realize the Infected isn’t moving anymore. I’m breathing hard. I look down at my weapon and the blood drips off the tip. There’s some on my hand and forearm, too. Well doesn’t this look like a murder.

Murder….crap….WITNESS!

I turn abruptly. Oh good. This guy’s instincts are not quite tuned to “flight”. He isn’t much of a fighter either it seems. I walk briskly towards him, the baton slack at my side.

“You okay?”

He’s shaking slightly and his eyes have that glazed look to them. He just stares at me.

I pull a towel from my bag and wipe the blood off my baton. Satisfied that it won’t stain too much else, I retract it and place it in the bag. I pull out a First Aid kit and approach the still fallen would-be victim.

He sees the big red cross and relaxes a little. “What was that?”

I smile, cold and detached. “Mugger. Obviously not a good one.”

“And you?”

“Good Samaritan.”

He sits up a little and winces. There are questions on his lips, but he has no voice for them. I’m grateful for that. It will make this a little easier.

I open the kit. “I’m okay,” he objects. “Just a little shaken.” I ignore him and pull out two different band-aids. “Do want Scooby Doo or Powerpuff Girls?”

He stares at me blankly. “Huh?”

I show him the band-aids and his brows knit together in confusion. “Um, Scooby Doo…I guess.”

I open the bandage and gingerly place it over the non-existent cut above his right eye. “It’s very dashing,” I tell him.

He’s still watching me curiously. I look deeply into his eyes. “You’ll be fine.” I take hold of his head, my thumbs pressed above his eyes and my fingers curl around the sides. “You really need to be more careful. It’s trippy out here. Lots of stuff to jump out at ya like that garbage can over there.”

He blinks. When his eyes open again, they’re completely white. Oh good, the salve embedded on the band-aid still works. I help the guy stand and face him away from his would-be attacker. “You gonna make it from here?”

He blinks again and looks at me. His eyes are no longer glazed, but there is a distinct absence in them. “Yeah. Thanks.”

I watch him wander off. After a moment, his body shifts and his movements are no longer awkward. He doesn’t look back.

I turn my attention back to the Infected. I kneel down next to what’s left of the body. I can’t see them anymore, but I know they’re the reason I killed this girl. Yeah. A girl. Not much younger than me. Probably still a co-ed.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur before pulling out a coin sized disc and placing it on the body. It disappears in a flash. Sent out into the ‘verse. Incinerated. As for the bloody mess that’s left behind, the liquid agent Omni and Viczen developed takes care of that. I watch the water substance pour from the bottle as it sizzles to blood away.

Content that all traces of this event are gone, I go back to my car. I’m on automatic pilot as I drive back to my townhouse. I don’t even notice that I’m inside until I flip on the light. It hurts my eyes a little.

I change. I’ll have to do laundry. It’s a good thing I still have some of that liquid agent to use on my clothes. I really like those jeans.

I find myself sitting on the edge of my bed, staring into the closet. I know what’s in there. It’s all stored in a trunk. I haven’t had to rummage through it in about six rutting years.

Suddenly, I realize I’m shaking. I stare at my hands. They’re trembling. I’m trembling. This is just sad. I’ve lost my touch. Seriously. What am I gonna do next? Cry?

Fuck you. Cry. Whatever. I’m many things, but I’m not a wuss.

I force myself to stop this ridiculous shaking and go to my computer. I access a secure cortex and find exactly who I’m looking for. There are only three of us who retained our memories. Nightwing had already contacted me. It’s up to me to contact her.

I hightlight her name and start typing.

“Viczen. I’m going to need your help.”

None of us have a choice.

********************************************

Generally, a disclaimer goes at the beginning, but that would really mess with the flow of the story. So here goes:

This is just a fun thing that planted itself in my brain courtesy of Joss Whedon. He is the Master. The Chronicles are obvious, except to maybe Al, who hates the show. Any other questions, by all means, ask away. I reserve the right to not answer, though, ‘cuz it may be something I have decided to reveal later.

“Choices” - 3.19, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer