General
Cordova watched
with a cruel smile as the vicious sadistic scene on the screen before
her played out. "I should have had Lieutenant Finn be the one to break
Hostile 17," she mused to herself. It was 3:00 am, and she was sitting
alone in her office, reviewing the surveillance tapes from that night.
She had the door locked, lest some hapless young soldier should wander
in and see the terribly compromising image of Lieutenant Finn recorded
on the security videos. There were probably a few of the troops milling
about outside her office, discussing the evening's events. Although he
was dead now – a death she fully intended to avenge without mercy – it
would still be very confusing to some of her troops to find out the way
in which their superior officer had spent his free time.
If those chips had not malfunctioned, she thought. And those two
hostiles had stayed under his control, they would certainly have been
completely broken by the time he would have finished with them. And
though she preferred not to get her hands quite as dirty as her
second-in-command had obviously enjoyed, she had to recognize a certain
brutal artistry in the way he had manipulated the two vampires, using
their affection for each other to enforce their submission to him.
I should have had him take charge of breaking that cocky vamp, she
thought with disgust. For all Lieutenant Finn thought of her, that
so-called vampire slayer was worthless at it! She smiled darkly. It
doesn't matter now. When Hostile 17 is found, I'll take that task in
hand myself. And by the time I'm through with him, that vampire won't
dare to so much as look at me wrong!
She watched in grim fascination as the little vampiress tore into the
much larger man, savaging him, tossing him about like a rag doll on the
screen before her. She grimaced with distaste; that was enough of that.
She rewound the tape through some very uneventful footage from that
afternoon, keeping an eye on it the entire time for anything unexpected
or out of the ordinary. Suddenly, she stopped the tape as a familiar
figure appeared on the screen, arresting her attention.
She frowned, wondering. Then her eyes widened as it sank in just what
she was seeing. She almost laughed in sheer surprise at the sight of
the Slayer and Hostile 17 – in his bed!
If that's her version of punishment, she smirked. No wonder he's so
rebellious. He's probably been trying to get punished! She noticed that
the Slayer did seem to be the one in control of the recorded
activities. Several times Hostile 17 attempted to move and was forced
back down by the Slayer on top of him. However, he did not appear to be
suffering; the expression on his face was one of sheer pleasure; he was
obviously highly enjoying himself.
Though suspicion began in her mind, it was not enough evidence to
confirm the suspicions – yet. After all, a young woman like Ms.
Summers, wielding life-or-death power over an attractive specimen such
as Hostile 17 – it was not surprising that she might take advantage of
that power to have a little fun. It wasn't like the hostile could have
done anything about it if he'd wanted to – not that he appeared to have
wanted to.
But it was when she rewound the tape even further that her suspicions
were confirmed.
"That's my laptop!" she said aloud in indignation, though she was the
only one in the room. She could barely believe her eyes, as she watched
as Hostile 17 handed the laptop to the Slayer. But her laptop was
always either with her, or under lock and key! How had he possibly
gotten his hands on it? she wondered.
Then she suddenly remembered Lieutenant Finn's careless mistake in
leaving it unattended a few afternoons ago. So Hostile 17 had taken it,
and Ms. Summers had returned it for him! There was so much classified
information on that laptop! They must have used some of it to figure
out how to outsmart the security systems to pull off the escape.
"So Ms. Summers, the vampire slayer, is the traitor among us," she
realized aloud, a slow, cruel smile spreading over her face. "Too bad.
I had such high hopes for that girl." She paused as she rose from her
desk and turned off the tape. She had seen all she needed to see. She
shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, well. She can still be of benefit to my
work – just not in the way I had planned."
And with a cold smile on her face, she set about setting about putting
her new plans for the Slayer into motion.
The next morning, Buffy was getting ready to leave for the Initiative.
She had decided that the best thing to do was to simply go in as usual,
acting as if she knew nothing about what had happened the night before.
There was nothing to connect her with the escape, so acting any
differently would only arouse unnecessary suspicions.
She was at the kitchen counter, pouring herself a cup of coffee, when
she heard the basement door open. Without meaning to she tensed,
knowing without looking who was walking up behind her, and not wanting
to talk to him. At this point, she simply had no idea what to even say.
"Morning, Buffy," that warm, familiar voice said, and she felt the
edges of her resolve beginning to crumble already at the soft, hopeful
note she heard in it.
No, Buffy! she sternly reminded herself. Stay strong!
She had made the mistake of falling for the sexy, tempting vampire –
Again, she thought ruefully – and now she had to cut it off early,
before she could develop any actual real feelings for him. The events
of the evening before had proven her fears to be truth – it could never
work. No matter what, a relationship between a vampire and a vampire
Slayer was doomed to failure from the very start, destined to end in
only one of two very unpleasant ways.
His death, or hers.
Better for both of them to keep as much emotional distance as possible.
And as he obviously was not of a mind to do that, that left it up to
her.
"You know it wouldn't kill you to speak to me, love," Spike said, and
she could clearly hear the hurt behind the irritation in his voice.
"Good morning," she replied tersely, as if it indeed pained her to say
the words.
"Come on, now, love," he said in a solicitous voice, coming around to
face her, seeking her eyes with his own deep blue gaze. She resolutely
avoided that gaze, because she knew that once she looked into those
eyes she would be in danger of losing herself and her resolve
completely. "I know I'm not your favorite person right now, pet, but
you can't go from shagging me senseless to shoving me out in the cold
overnight." His tone was teasing, coaxing.
Buffy's eyes shot up to his for just a moment before she looked away,
irritated by his casual, familiar demeanor. How dare he flirt with her
and attempt to act as if nothing had happened after – after everything!
"Watch me!" she snapped, turning away from him again.
"Kind of hard to do that when you won't even bloody look at me," he
muttered, irritation sneaking into his own voice, as he moved around in
front of her again, taking her arms gently in his hands and trying
again to regain their lost eye contact.
And he regained it.
Fiery emerald eyes met his in a challenge as she glared pointedly down
at his hands and then back up into his eyes. In a still sort of voice
that was far more dangerous than a louder, angrier tone would have
been, she said softly, "Take your hands off me."
He was no fool; he instantly obeyed. But the defeated, wounded look in
his eyes when he turned away tore at her heart. Before he could argue
any further – as she knew he would once given a few moments to rebuild
his courage – or she could lose her determination, she hurried out the
door and to her car.
Sitting in her car in the parking lot, she took a deep breath before
getting out, preparing herself to act surprised and distressed by the
news of what had happened the night before. The distressed part would
not be difficult; surprised on the other hand – she desperately hoped
that she could pull it off.
As she paused in the doorway to General Cordova's office, keeping her
expression positive, just short of outright cheerful, she noticed that
the general's expression was terse, troubled.
"What's wrong?" she asked, mentally congratulating herself on putting
just the right note of concern in her voice.
The general silently waved her on into the room, gesturing for her to
close the door and sit down.
"There was an incident last night," she said finally, once Buffy was
seated across from her. "A soldier was killed. Two hostiles escaped."
"H-how is that possible?" Buffy asked, frowning. "All of the hostiles
are chipped. How could they have killed a soldier?"
"The chips...malfunctioned. We managed to get them back up very quickly,
but not before the two that escaped managed to do a lot of damage. Ms.
Summers – I have bad news."
Buffy prepared herself to react appropriately, saying in an innocent
tone, "What is it?"
"It's Lieutenant Finn. He's the soldier who was killed. I'm sorry. I
know you two were friends." The general's tone was sympathetic, her
expression apologetic and sad.
Buffy's eyes widened with feigned shock; her mouth opened but she said
nothing for a long moment. "Oh my God!" she finally whispered, her eyes
staring blankly at the general, as if barely able to comprehend her
words. "No..."
"Hostile 17 and the childe – the one that's caused so much trouble
around here recently – killed Lieutenant Finn – brutally murdered him
without provocation – and escaped. We searched the immediately
surrounding area, but there was no sign of them," the general explained.
Buffy fought back her anger and revulsion at the general's lie. The
riding crop and handcuffs had been left on the floor in Spike's room;
surely she had to have some idea of what Riley had been doing before
they had escaped.
"Riley," Buffy whispered, allowing the rage she felt at his name and
the thought of what he had done to show in her eyes, letting the
general believe it was directed toward his killers. Quickly meeting the
general's eyes, her own filled with tears, she said in a trembling
voice, , "We've got to find them. Make them pay for what they did to
him!"
The general nodded her approval. "We're agreed, then," she said
quietly. "Tonight...we hunt them down. We won't stop until they're found.
And once they're found – we'll show them the meaning of pain."
Buffy nodded resolutely though the woman's words chilled her to the
bone, as Cordova outlined the specifics of her plan for her. They would
meet here, at the Initiative headquarters, at 8:00 that night, to begin
their search for the fugitive vampires. Then, they would continue
hunting them until they were found, or daylight came, whichever
occurred first. Cordova had decided that an overnight hunt would be
most effective, as the vampires would likely be out attempting to feed,
and not hidden away somewhere as they would be during daylight.
"Go home and get some rest, Ms. Summers," the general suggested kindly.
"You've got a long night ahead of you."
And as Buffy rose and turned to go, she missed the secret, cruel smile
on Cordova's lips.