FIC: MC 24 June ‘00 Contracted (1/?)

Miami, 6 months earlier

Sanchez smiled as the pretty black girl crossed the darkened street just ahead of him. The area was completely deserted, any cars that could be heard were in the distance, and at this time in night and in this area, most people who didn’t have to be out for work were smart enough to stay indoors.

Pulling out his knife he smiled. Working for one of the biggest Latino crime gangs in Florida he didn’t have much time for fun, but whenever he got time off he liked to cut up a girl. Their screams and looks of terror were such a turn-on.

He started after his prey, keeping to the shadows and behind a line of parked cars so not to scare her. He’d watched her on and off for a month, and knew her route home like the back of his hand. When she crossed the street just ahead of him, he’d grab her, pull her behind the auto shop on the corner and get to play with his knife. He got such a charge when he saw his handiwork later, walking the streets.

* * *

Ray’s eyes narrowed as he saw the telltale gleam of a knife in the darkness. He’d had a bad feeling when he’d seen the man outside one of the clubs he installed and maintained electronic security systems for, watching one of the girls. Nothing concrete but those feelings had kept him alive for decades.

And once again, he’d been right.

His lip curled up in disdain as he stealthily moved into position, analysing his opponent. The guy was strictly third-rate, he hadn’t even checked his flanks before moving into position.

The quarry was a short, powerfully-built Latino dressed in an oil-stained gym shirt and thigh-length denim shorts. Ray shook his head as he approached, the man had the scarred face of a fighter, and was probably terrifying if you were some scared shop-owner getting his week’s takings taken off him, but he moved terribly, flat-footed, and making more noise than an angry hippo. A true fighter’s most dangerous weapon should be his mind, but in this thug’s case it was definitely the curved dagger he was carrying. Ray smiled as he realised the idiot wasn’t even holding his weapon right.

* * *

Sanchez grinned as he sneaked up behind the oblivious girl. Another few seconds and she’d be his. He gasped as a strong hand grabbed his knife wrist and twisted. Pain blazed through his forearm and his fingers instinctively opened, causing his weapon to clatter onto the ground. His cry of mingled hurt and shock was muffled by another hand around his throat that choked off his breath.

His attacker threw him behind the auto-shop where he’d planned to drag the girl. Hitting the floor on his shoulder, Sanchez staggered to his feet, eyes widening as he realised his attacker was a fit looking man 25 – 30 years his senior dressed in an immaculate suit with a slight hair-lip. "You know who you’re messing with chico?" he boasted as he eyed up his opponent. "I’m a Bravo Carnicero!"

His words didn’t have the expected reaction, rather than fear, the man smiled. "You say that like I should be impressed, I already knew you weren’t a choir-boy." Enraged, he charged the man, leading with a right haymaker. The man laughed and sidestepped him, slamming a left into his ribs. Immediately he doubled up, gasping for air. "Son," he heard the man over his pained gasps, "you telegraph your punches and need to work on your conditioning. That’ll help you in the big house when Bubba’s looking for a bitch."

Straightening, he charged the man again. This time he crashed head-first onto the hard gravel when the man sidestepped and tripped him. "And none too smart, either," the middle-aged man declared. "Doesn’t learn from his mistakes."

Groaning with the effort, he rose, wincing slightly as he felt blood dripping down his face from a cut on his forehead, and turned to the man. "You’re gonna beg to die!" he blustered.

"Unoriginal."

Before he had chance to react, the other man was moving towards him. Even as he thought to drop into a defensive crouch, the man was hitting him with pinpoint efficiency, his right hook smashing into his jaw, blood flying from his mouth to splatter the auto-shop wall, and his left knee slamming into his balls.

Suddenly he was on his knees, blood pounding through his head as his lungs heaved, bile splashing the gravel in front of him. Again he tried to rise, but this time his attacker swept his legs from underneath him, knocking him backwards.

Sanchez gasped as the back of his head smashed into the concrete. Dots appeared before his eyes and all he could hear was the sound of his heart pounding. Before he even had chance to move, his attacker was knelt on him, leg across his throat, pinning him to the ground. The man stared down at him, a disinterested look on his face. "I don’t like knife carrying scumbags following young girls around in the dead of night, irritates me. And I know some other people who feel the same." The man reached into his pocket. Pulling out a cell, his attacker flicked it open, and quickly dialled a number. "Hello, police? I’ve just apprehended a thug. Yes," the man looked away, "I’m at the intersection of James and Second."

"You’re a dead-, ooof!."

Blood fountained from his nose when the man slammed a palm into its bridge, sending jolts of unimaginable pain through his face. "I’ve been threatened by experts," his attacker informed him, "keep quiet, you’ll only annoy me."

Sanchez clamped his mouth shut, the look in the man’s eyes compelling him to silence.

* * *

Sam M. Gibbons U.S. Courthouse, Present Day

"From attempted murder to a weapons charge. And being able to get the knife thrown out as evidence in three previous assaults, I love paperwork!" Her boss beamed. "Wonderful work Lillah, brilliant!"

"Thank you, sir," Lillah Morgan preened at Holland Manners’ praise. "I’m just puzzled why we went to work for such a low-life," she queried as they made their way down the courthouse steps, past the glaring ADA they’d just out-manoeuvred.

"Low life?" Holland chuckled. "That’s no doubt of an accurate description of Miguel Sanchez. However his gang Los Bravo Carniceros in addition to being one area’s biggest protection racketeers and pimps are also one of the region’s largest drug smugglers and have on occasion assisted us by smuggling in people and artefacts for us. We at Wolfram & Hart find a harmonious working relationship with our criminal contacts facilitates our operations." Her boss paused by the firm’s tinted limo and nodded at the driver. "Thank you, Jenkins," the lawyer turned to her. "After you, Lillah."

"Thank you," Lillah climbed into the back of the luxurious limo, loving the feel of the leather seats, and savouring the interior’s air conditioning, especially after Florida’s oppressive heat.

"Where to, sir?" the chauffer asked through the partion once they’d all got in.

"The airport, please Jenkins."

"Yes, sir," the chauffer closed the partion before starting up the car, its engine purring effortlessly through the streets.

"Have you the background I asked for on Mr. Quick?"

"Yes sir," Lillah opened up her briefcase and pulled out a folder, opening it, she began to recite from it. "Raymond Quick, born 12^th March 1950. He joined up with the CIA in 1972, and was one of their top operatives, specialising in amongst other things, explosives. In 1990, he retired and went free-lance. In 1993, he was hired by a May Munro to kill three mobsters, Joe Leon, Tomas Leon, and Ned Trent because they murdered her parents when she was a little girl."

"That was him?" Holland raised an eyebrow. "Interesting, the Leon family were clients of ours."

"I didn’t know that, sir."

"Of course not," Holland shook his head. "You only joined us in ‘95. Our clients have decided that he should be eliminated. Handle it for me."

"Yes sir," she nodded dutifully. "Should I use one of our own teams?"

"No, no, no," Holland shook his head, "with a gentleman as formidable as Mr. Quick, there’s bound to be some fallout. Use an outside contractor, I don’t want this to be traced back to us."

"Of course, sir. The Order perhaps?"

"Excellent," Holland nodded approvingly. "And Miss. Dim, how is she progressing?"

It took Lillah a second to process the segue-way. "She’s doing fine, sir. She received her black belt in Jeet Kune Do last month."

"Ah wonderful!" he boss beamed almost like a proud grand-father receiving news of his grand-child’s achievements. "And how many belts does that make it?"

"Five, sir. Jeet Kune Do, Hapkido, Aikido, Wing Chun, and Tae Kwon Do."

"Ah," Holland sighed. "Such a hard-working child. How old is she now?"

"She turned thirteen three months ago."

"And weapons training?"

"According to her trainers, she’s responding well," Lillah replied.

"Of course she is," Holland smiled. "All potentials have an instinctive feel for such things. And when that foolish girl Summers activates all the Slayers in three years’ time, we’ll have our own ready-made killer. And if Angel isn’t on our side by then…"

"He’ll be dust."

"Exactly."

FIC: MC 24 June ‘00 Contracted (2/?)

Baltimore, Maryland

"You’re going to ask him then?"

"No Tar," Faith shook her head at big sis’ quietly-spoken query as they walked the corridor that led to their hotel room, their arms laden with shopping bags, their plastic having taken one hell of a pounding. Faith smirked inwardly, it was lucky she was now a woman of money. "I’m gonna tell him, that’s how you handle X, lay down the law."

Tara shot her a doubtful look. "That’s why you sound like this when you want something off him, ‘oh Xander’," Faith’s cheeks burnt when Tara’s voice rose several notes, "’pleasy weasy do this for me. I’ll make it worth your while you later, promise.’"

"How about ya shut up before I forget I’m one of the good guys," she threatened. "I have a plan."

"I knew I should have bought some sweaters instead of bikinis," Tara just grinned at her glare only for the witch’s brow to furrow. "You heard that?"

"I heard that," Faith confirmed as she cast a worried glance towards the room she shared with her honey. Passing her bags to Tara, she knelt down on one leg, pulled up her jeans, and quickly drew the knife sheathed to her calf. "Wait here," she instructed before creeping over to her and Xander’s room.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"

Heaving a sigh of relief, she stalked back to Tara. "He’s just pissed off about something, ain’t no trouble," she explained as she sheathed her knife, and took her bags back off her friend.

"Maybe we should wait to tell him?" Tara suggested.

Faith shook her head. "Just trust me, k?" Geez, if there was one thing she knew it was men. "See ya later."

"Later."

Faith sighed as her best friend walked off to her room, alone. She hated Tara being on her own when she was all loved up with the X-man. She had gotta get Tar fixed up with some hottie. Only trouble was anyone she fixed Tar up with had to be involved in the life, and that made the choices kinda limited. "Maybe I could kidnap some movie starlet for a wild weekend with big sis?" Faith shook her head. "Nah, big sis would only make me take them back."

Dismissing thoughts of what a spoilsport big sis was, Faith made her way to her room, opening the door handle with her ass before sauntering in. "Hey, X. What’s the drama? We could hear ya half-way down the corridor!"

"Hey, Faith," Xander didn’t look up from the desk where he was sat, busily tapping away on his lap-top. "I’m busy doing the paperwork for the Brotherhood, going over the field reports, checking the armaments, intelligence, and electronics divisions are working. I hate paperwork."

Faith shook her head before placing her bags on their bed. She couldn’t get over her, the Beantown nothing, having a boyfriend running an organisation as important as the Brotherhood. Striding over to the desk, she started to squeeze at her boyfriend’s shoulders, loosening the tightness there, and getting a series of contented groans from him. "Ya’ll do fine hon," Faith soothed, "me and Tar know ya will. But ya know what ya need?"

"Faith," Xander looked up, his eyes amused. "Kinda working here."

"Not that," she playfully swatted the back of her boyfriend’s head. "Damn horn-dog. I was thinkin’, we’ve saved the world a few times this year, we deserve some time off. I even," she produced three tickets from inside her jacket pocket, "booked us some flights to Miami."

"Faith, we can’t take time off," her boyfriend shook his head.

Faith sighed. Time to put plan B into action. "That’s a real shame," she walked over to her bags on the bed, careful to put a little extra sway in her hips. "In that case," she pulled out a package from one of the bags and quickly opened it, "if ya don’t wanna go, I might as well take this back."

"Faith, I told you.-," X’s voice trailed off momentarily only to return seconds later on an entirely different track, "w…what’s that?"

Duh, thought Faith, she loved her man but he was not the sharpest knife in the drawer. "This?" Faith innocently held the skimpy material across her chest, "just one of three string bikinis I bought for the holiday."

"T..three?"

"Yeah, this black one," she dropped it on their double bed before pulling out two other bikinis, "this gold one, and this leopard skin one." She briefly lifted them up before for Xander’s saucer-eyed gaze before dropping them onto the bed. "But I kept the receipts. I’ll," she sighed wistfully, "take them back in the morning."

Xander stared at her for a long second before shaking his head and gulping, his jaw shutting with an audible clunk. "Nooo!" her boyfriend shook his head. "There’s no need for that. How soon can you pack?"

Faith smirked. She won again.

* * *

Miami, Florida

"There doesn’t seem to be a problem with the CCTV I installed," Ray informed his employer before climbing down the steel ladder he’d been standing on to check the fuse box.

"Ah, fuck it." His employer shook his head. "Sorry about getting you down here for nothing, Ray. You wanna come to the office, I’ll cut you a cheque."

"Sure," Ray strode across the landing overhanging the club and glanced down. It was largely empty now, just a few people at the bar and tables drinking, the dance floor completely deserted, and the club strangely empty. But Ray knew that in just a few hours ‘Los Rapida Fiesta’ would be jumping with twenty-something locals and tourists with money to burn.

Entering his employer’s office, he looked around, noting the thick rug, and glass one-way walls that allowed the "It’ll be $ 350, Pepe," he informed the swarthy, moustached man sat behind the desk, the light above them shining off the club owner’s bad head.

"Yeah, thing is, Ray," the man swallowed.

"Thing is what, Pepe?" Ray’s voice stayed steady and his posture relaxed, but inside he felt his adrenalin begin to pump. Was this some sort of trap?

"I got you here under false pretences." The fat man sat behind licked at his corpulent lips. "I knew there wasn’t anything wrong with the video feed, but I had to see you, I’ve got something to tell you."

"And you couldn’t just phone?" Ray’s hand edged to the .32 under his arm.

"Not this news. You remember a guy by the name of Miguel Sanchez?"

Ray stopped. "I testified at his trial two weeks ago, I remember."

Pepe gulped at the cold timbre in his voice. "Well my brother-in-law, worthless bastard that he is, is a big-time gambler, does it professionally. And he was dealing at a game the other night with some of Sanchez’s running buddies, and they were boasting about having some big law firm take out a hit on the pinga who dared to testify against their brother. I had to get you here and tell you, but I had to make it look like a job so they wouldn’t know I was telling you. These are dangerous people."

Ray smiled, dangerous? They didn’t know the meaning of the word. "Thanks for the information, Pepe," he replied before walking out.

* * *

Armed with the warning about his possible attacker, Ray’s journey took almost twice as long as usual, detouring three times, and stopping twice, just to check if he had picked up a tail.

Finally though, he reached his home, a luxury apartment beneath a seemingly abandoned factory. Parking the car in the apparently disused factory opposite, which was in fact a state-of-the art security compound, he made his way through the underground tunnel that linked the two buildings. After punching the five digit code, he hurried inside, closing the vault door behind him.

And then he poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat, mind whirling at hundreds of miles an hour. After the trial he’d tried to hack the computers of the law firm that had defended Sanchez. He’d just sensed something off about them, more than just the usual shyster sleaze vibe that he normally got off lawyers who represented scumbags. But he hadn’t been able to get far, their security was far beyond anything he could crack. If Brill was still in the game…

"But he isn’t," Ray sighed and shook his head. Banishing the memory of his electronics instructor at Langley, he made his way over to the bookcase and pulled out his copy of ‘Sun Tzu’s Art Of War’. Immediately there was a click and the book case slid to the right. Ray strode through and into his panic room, nodding in satisfaction as he noted the hardware, the surveillance equipment, and the food and liquid to last a month all there. He’d hoped not to have to use all this, but now it seemed unavoidable.

Given that his enemies had gone to out-of-towners for help, it was pretty safe to assume the contractors would be out-of-towners too. "Para-militaries?" he muttered. The influence of this law firm seemed extensive, so they’d probably have found his past, so to kill the best, they’d probably send the best. "Great. That makes it either Chekov, no he’s dead. Vega from the Colombians maybe. Or O’Reilly, he’s gone freelance since the Good Friday Agreement." Tapping on the computer, he drew up the files of those in his league. It was a reassuringly short list, just the two he’d thought of and two others, Günter Helmut, formerly of the South African police, and Frank Cole, the SAS deserter. Unless, he scowled, they had their own man they used for such operations, a wild card.

He guessed the method of killing him would either be sniper, bomb, or a full-on assault. Poison would never work, he was too careful, or would be now, he’d prepare his own food from now on, and trying to fake an accidental death too dangerous and messy for his attacker.

And then, there was a question of where they’d hit him. Here, despite the installation of the panic room was unlikely. No one knew where he lived, he did his business over the phone or via the internet, all his bills were paid by a third party who had no idea who their client was, the same with his paperwork. He had three different cars, all state-of-the art with bullet-proof windows and tires, it would take something of the order of a rocket-launcher to even immobilise one of them. He varied his routine every day, used different shops, restaurants. "Paranoia," he smiled to himself, "it’s a wonderful thing."

But it might just keep him alive long enough to figure his way out of this mess. One way or another, he guessed he’d find out soon.

FIC: MC 24 June ‘00 Contracted (3/?)

Miami Airport

"Damn," Faith exulted as she and her companions disembarked from first class, leaving the coolness of the air-conditioned airplane for the baking heat of mid-day Florida. "It is scorching." Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, she reached into her pocket and pulled on her aviator sunglasses to protect her eyes from the sun’s intense glare. Her ears filled with the noise of planes landing and taking off, her lungs and nose filled with the heavy stench of the planes’ oil. "Fuck," her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Let’s get out of here and to our hotel."

Tara nodded. "Let’s." Her sister looked towards Xander. "It better be five star."

Xander sighed. "Demanding women, don’t you just love it."

"You love it when I dem-."

Her words were cut off by Xander’s playful hand over her mouth. She looked up at her boyfriend, a smile dancing in her eyes. "No naughty talk," Xander scolded with a grin before glancing over his shoulder where a bunch of boy scouts were disembarking, "children and Tara present."

Faith laughed at Tara’s glare when X released her. "Ah, they weren’t listening to us talk," she nodded towards the kids, "they were too busy looking at," she thumbed in her own direction,"me."

"Nah," Xander shook his head, "it was Tara they were checking out. I even heard one ask who was the ugly chick with the hot blo-."

Xander grunted when she elbowed him none too gently in the ribs. "Asshole," she scolded before turning to Tara. "And ya can stop smirking."

"Me?"

Faith shook her head and smirked. "Sis, one time that innocent act worked, but now? I freakin’ know you."

"Now the comedy’s over," Xander wheezed, "can we go to the hotel?"

"Ya winded honey?" Faith queried guilelessly.

Xander straightened slowly, a pained look on his face. "Gee, I just got gut-punched by a gor-," she raised an eyebrow, "beautiful young woman who I happen to have the good fortune to be dating."

"Good save X," she approved. "We heading to the hotel?"

Xander nodded. "But then the beach and the bikinis?"

"Maybe," she smirked. "But only if you wear those speedos I got ya."

Xander paled. "B…but there’s so little material."

Faith licked her lips, enjoying her boyfriend’s squirm. "No speedos, no bikinis," she winked at Tara, "right, sis?"

Tara reddened. "R…right."

Xander’s shoulders slumped. "Okay," he muttered.

Faith’s smirk widened. Oh yeah, so whipped.

* * *

Ray entered the bar, eyes searching its dark corners for any sign of trouble. Finally satisfied there was nothing, he made his way over to the bar. "Yeah?" queried the bartender, a thickly built black with a shaven head and surly disposition to match his less than flattering looks.

"OJ.," Ray said, he never drank, too much risk of impairing the reflexes. The bartender’s mouth opened in a telltale sneer. Ray raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Nothing, sir," the bartender hurriedly pulled out a bottle, took the top off and passed him the drink, "three bucks, sir."

He passed a five dollar bill over the counter. "Thanks, keep the change." Turning from the bar, he looked around for a suitable seat. Seeing a space that would have his back to the wall, and was facing the window, he nodded in approval, and hurried over. Sitting down, he placed his bottle on the table, and looked around, eyes measuring the bar’s crowd.

Deciding there was nobody note-worthy or dangerous, he began to think, one eye kept on the crowd, snippets of their murmured conversation floating to him on the slightly smoky air. His problem was finding out who exactly put the hit on him and getting to them. Los Bravos were a big gang, one of the biggest in the city, with tendrils stretching out way outside their own community. His fingers drummed a thoughtful rhythm on the surface of his table as he considered his options. He didn’t really fancy his chances against a gang the size of ‘Los Bravos’, but his choices were limited, either he ran, and spent the rest of his life looking over his shoulder and sleeping with one eye open, or he took Los Bravos on on his own.

"I’m getting too old for this," he concluded with a wry grin. He knew it was macho bullshit, but he didn’t run, didn’t know how to. It was just a question of waiting for his sources to come through with the information needed. And staying alive until then.

Ray’s eyes narrowed as a red-skinned, green-haired man entered the bar, quarter of a century old instincts firing. There was something off about the man. A casual look on his face, Ray eased his jacket open, hand sliding to the gun holstered under his arm.

And stopped as he noticed something. "That’s impossible," he breathed, eyes fixed on what looked like gills on the ‘man’s’ neck. "Impossible."

His rock-steady nerve almost failed when the ‘man’ turned towards him, revealing yellow pupils. Shaking his shock off, he leapt to his feet, hand moving towards his gun. Whatever the thing was it wasn’t human, which in his book meant it was a threat.

He gasped when the monster covered the space between them at a blur, heedlessly knocking patrons out of its path, and grabbing hold of his gun arm at the elbow with one hand and his throat with the other. "I," the monster’s sibilant hiss sent shivers down his spine, "don’t think so!"

Thinking quickly, he jammed the palm of his free hand into the monster’s flat nose, delivering a blow that would have knocked a normal man off his feet. The creature just grunted.

"Hey!" a well-meaning patron lunged at his attacker only to catch a bone-shattering, blood-curdling side kick to the knee that sent him screaming to the floor.

Ray took the distraction for the slight opening it was and pushed against his mystery opponent, hoping to catch him surprise and knock him off-balance. The monster just laughed before savagely twisting his gun-wrist. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Ray drove his steel-heeled shoe down hard on his opponent’s foot.

"Argggh!"

His elation at the creature’s pained scream was short-lived. Its screech still reverberating through his ears, the monster lifted him into the air and flung him into the air. Grunting in anticipation at the collision with the glass behind him, Ray still managed to draw his gun and fire at the monster.

His eyes widened in horror when his first two rounds connected with the creature’s thick chest and staggered, but failed to put him down. And then he flew through the window and crashed onto the ground, his gun clattering away from him.

* * *

Faith smirked as she walked down downtown Miami, taking in the sight and the glorious weather. They’d left the airport twenty minutes ago, one advantage of the Always Pocket meaning they didn’t have any baggage to collect. Although Xander had had to glare very menacingly at a couple of sleazy security guards who’d tried to demand a strip-search. "Ah nuts!" Faith exclaimed, her mood taking a distinct down-turn as a bar window exploded in front of them and a body hit the ground by their feet. "I thought you said," she shot Xander an accusatory glare, "this was a nice neighbourhood?"

"It is!" her boyfriend protested. "Look I paid top doll-," her boyfriend’s eyes hardened as he pulled out a sword and threw it to her. "Demon!"

"Fuck!" Faith caught the weapon in mid-air before bounding forward to meet the figure climbing out of the window.

"Foolish girl!" the monster tried a casual backhand that she easily ducked under before slashing at his chest, the demon leaping backwards.

"Slayer actually," she smirked at the demon’s widening yellow eyes before leaping out of range of his overhand right. "As in," she swept the demon’s legs from under him with a leg-sweep before slashing at her adversary’s head, "yours!"

She was disappointed when the monster rolled away from her attack and back to his feet, blue sparks flying as her blade collided with the ground. In her opinion that always ruined her punch-lines. Quelling her disappointment, she darted forward, taking a left to the face before slicing her blade up, cutting through the monster’s neck. Instantly, Faith spun around to eyeball the demon’s would-be victim. "Who the hell are you?"

"I’ve another question?" Faith didn’t take her eyes off the groaning man at her boyfriend’s voice. "Why would someone hire a Tarakran to kill you?"

Now she did glance towards the decapitated demon, her eyes lighting on the tell-tale brass ring on one of its fingers. "Oh fuck." Looked like her vacation was well and truly screwed.

FIC: MC 24 Jun ’00 Contracted (4/?)

Faith looked up towards him. "What do we do, X?"

Xander glanced around, conscious of the excited crowd forming around them and the sound of approaching sirens. "We grab him," he nodded towards the groaning man still lying crumpled on the ground, "and make for the nearest low-rent hotel and find out what’s going on."

"You’re just doing this to save on the hotel!" Faith complained as she dragged the dazed man up to his feet. The man shot out a fast right, but Faith just leaned away from the attack, grabbed the wrist, and neatly twisted the arm up behind the man’s back. "Now that’s just rude," Faith reproved, "I was talkin’ to cheapskate."

"No, Faith," he shook his head and sighed. For a girl who’d never had money until a year ago, his girl-friend was sure turning materialistic. "We’d never get into a decent hotel with a guestage."

"Guestage?"

Xander ignored Tara’s bemused mutter to stare intently at his girl-friend. "Fine," Faith sighed long-sufferingly. Like she was the one dating a nutty, demanding adrenalin junkie. "Let’s go."

"Hey you can’t-."

Xander pulled out a shotgun at a passer-by’s complaint. It was of course a bluff, but the chubby man just gulped and melted back into the crowd. Satisfied he looked around. "This way."

Immediately the crowd parted before them. Faith chortled. "I feel like Moses."

* * *

"Sit down." The moment the girl shoved him towards the bed of the careworn room, Ray moved. Foot flicking out, he went for a leg-sweep of her ankles. And a half-second later his ankle was grabbed in an iron grip. Another split-second passed and he found himself flying through the air to crash into the bed. "Or you lie," the striking brunette drawled, "your choice."

"Faith," the tall boy shook his head as he closed the door behind him. "Stop playing with our new friend."

"Hey, you save a jackass’ life and he tries to hit you," the beautiful brunette shrugged. "Gotta expect a reaction." He tensed himself, readying for a leap up, the girl shook her head. "Patience I am not known for-."

"No kiddin’," commented the pretty blonde.

"So, you move and I break something," the girl finished before glancing towards the blonde. "Don’t interrupt Tara, it’s rude."

The blonde smiled. "Never stops you."

The brunette’s cupid-shaped lips parted in a smirk. "And your point is?"

The young man shook his head. "Girls, focus? Tara, his aura?"

The girl stared at him, her gaze unsettling. "Murky but good. Like he’s done bad things in the past," he shifted uncomfortably at that. Whoever they were, they obviously knew his past, had broken his cover. But they were a little young for agents. "But regrets and wants to make amends."

The young man and the beautiful brunette exchanged looks. "Oh yeah?" Faith looked towards him. "So how long ya been hunting demons?"

Ray stared at the girl. Whatever he’d been expecting to be asked that wasn’t it. "Demons? Are you nuts?"

Faith and his other two captors exchanged looks. "Well duh," said the gorgeous brunette said. "Why else would a Tekran be hunting ya?"

Ray looked around the trio of lunatics. They might as well have been talking Arabic for all he understood. "Tekran?"

The trio surrounding him exchanged glances, the boy sighed. "Okay, let’s start from the beginning, who are you?"

"Ray Sharp," he quickly replied, using the name he’d been living under for the last seven years.

"He’s lying," said the blonde, her eyes fixed on him.

"Tut, tut," the boy shook his head. "You save a man’s life, but is he grateful?" Suddenly the youth’s face hardened. "Faith, his ID?"

The brunette beamed. "Sure, X." Before he had a chance to move the girl had him around his collar and effortlessly flipped onto his front, his face pressing into the mattress, nose filling with the smell of freshly cleaned sheets. Her knee pressing painfully into the small of his back, Faith rummaged through his pockets, pulling out his wallet. "Says here his name is Ray Sharp." He heard the sound of his licence being thrown across the room and caught.

"Must be a good fake," commented the youth. "Want to tell us the truth?" Ray stayed quiet, his heart hammering, a hundred questions flying through his head. Who were these people? What had attacked him? And how was this slip of a girl, little more than a child, able to effortlessly pin him down? After a second, the boy spoke. "Tara, fire up the computer and get Brill on line."

He tensed at the mention of his old friend. "X," the girl knelt on him spoke. "This guy knows Brill, he stiffened when you said his name."

"Really?" There was a thoughtful pause and then he was momentarily blinded by a flash-light. "Seems we’ll be getting some answers quicker than I thought. Tara," the kid spoke, "get Brill on-line. We’ll run this guy’s photo, see what we come up with."

* * *

Foley looked around the scene in utter bemusement. A murder scene with over a dozen witnesses to the crime, but no corpse. How did that happen? Sighing slightly, he dropped down onto his haunches and stared at the shattered glass littering the ground. There’d been blood on the glass, maybe they could get a match on the man the victim was attacking before being killed. It was if nothing else a place to start.

"Someone want to tell us what’s goin’ on here?"

"Burnett and Lowery," Foley’s heart dropped. "Makes my crappy day complete," he muttered before rising, and turning to face the two African-American detectives. "Thought you two were working drugs. Shouldn’t you two be off chasing dope heads or something?"

"Was in the area, heard some weird shit was going down. Heard you were in charge and felt sure we could learn something from a bloodhound like yourself," Lowery replied before looking around. "Where’s the body?"

"There is no body," Foley replied

"You lost the body?" Burnett chuckled. "That’s bad even for you."

Foley struggled to hold onto his temper. "It wasn’t here when we got here. As far as we can tell there was no murder."

"So why you still here?" Lowery asked.

"Because we have over a dozen witnesses who claim a man was murdered here, decapitated by a sword-wielding girl."

Burnett and Lowery exchanged looks. "Looks like Xena’s on the loose," Lowery commented. "And I thought I had her securely tied up in my closet."

Burnett sighed. "Always wanted to meet her."

"Quit the comedy routine," Foley started to turn back to the crime scene.

"What happened according to the witnesses?"

Realising Lowery and Burnett weren’t going to leave him in peace, Foley moved to the shattered window. "A guy, late-forties but buff, was thrown through this window. His attacker climbed through after him. Then the girl turned up, teen, brunette, real hot piece from all accounts. Her boyfriend or male companion, whatever, drew a sword, and threw it to her-."

"He let the chick do the killing for him?" queried Lowery.

"This girl ain’t no shrinking violet," Foley replied. "Took the dude’s head straight off with a single sword strike. Then she grabbed the guy who’d been beaten up and picked him up with one hand. Then the boy pulled a gun to back off the witnesses, and he, the girl, the hostage, and another girl left."

"And where’s the corpse got to?" Burnett asked.

Foley coughed, unable to say what the witnesses had said. Finally he managed it. "He dissolved."

"Any id on the victim?" Lowery’s sceptical expression said it all.

"No, just that he was red skinned, tall, and muscular."

"Um, sorta stand out in a crowd," Brunett commented. "Maybe he’s someone who doesn’t tan too well?"

Foley glared at Burnett’s crack. "So no relation to either of you two then."

"Gee," Lowery smirked, "did the cracker make a racial slur?"

"Sure tried to," he retorted. "Now how about you two fuck off and leave the professionals to get on with some real police work."

"Come on Lowery," Burnett smirked. "Let’s go and get some grits and sit on the farm listening to uncle Remus tell us stories about Br’er Rabbit. They’ll make more sense than one of his reports."

"Funny fuckers," Foley muttered with a shake of the head as the two African-American cops left. Who the hell had given two clowns like them badges?

FIC: MC 24 Jun ’00 Contracted (5/?)

LA., California

BRRRING! BRRRRING! BRRRING!

"Fuck," Brill groused as he awoke from his slumber and dreams of cocktails on a sun-kissed beach. Spitting the sleep out of his mouth, and rubbing his eyes clear, he reached for the mobile sat on his bedside table. "Yeah?" he barked into it. "This better be good, Harris!"

"Gee," the kid chuckled. "And there was I thinking you were my employee."

"You don’t pay me enough to get up at," his eyes widened when he read the luminous dial on his clock, "three in the morning. Damn it kid, it better be good."

"Yeah," the boy’s tone turned serious. "We ran into someone being attacked by the Tekrans. After we rescued them, they lied about their name to us. But their ID said the same name, so we were going to get you to run his photo, see if it came up on any law enforcement databases or army records."

"Going to?" Brill queried impatiently. Would the boy ever get to the point?

"Yeah, I dropped your name," Brill groaned, the boy was a good kid, but when would he learn field craft discretion? "Yeah, sorry. But he tensed like he’d recognised it. So I’ve sent his photo to your lap-top, hoping you’d maybe recognise it."

"Okay, give me five," Brill grunted before standing, leaving the comfort of his soft bed, he hurried into the draughty corridor, flesh pimpling at the chill, grabbed his laptop and set it up on the lounge coffee table. His breath caught at the image that flashed before him. "Well, shit," he breathed. "I thought he was dead."

"You know him?"

"I know him," he confirmed. "Where is he right now?"

The boy chuckled. "Faith’s kinda got him pinned to the bed."

Brill raised a greying eyebrow. "Kinda liberal aren’t you?"

"Funny guy," the boy deadpanned back. "What’s the 411?"

Brill shook his head. Was there one youth in the entire nation who could speak English properly? Deciding to file away his disquiet for later examination, he began to talk, telling the kid what little he knew about Quick and his expertise. "Wow," the kid said after he’d finished. "Will you speak to him. Tell him he can trust us?"

"Kid, I don’t trust you myself," he smirked into the phone. "Sure, hand him over. I’ll speak to him."

* * *

"Faith let him up, an old friend wants to speak to our guest."

"Sure X," croaked the brunette bombshell.

A half-second later and he felt the weight climb off his back. A small hand grabbed him by his collar and yanked him up into a seated position. "Here," the young man passed him the phone.

Eyes still warily fixed on the trio of teens stood against the wall opposite, he spoke into the phone. "Hello?"

"Damn it," growled a grizzled voice. "Word on you is you’re dead!"

"Brill?" Ray’s eyes widened. "Same word on you. If it is you, I know about the voice sampling technology these days."

"Yeah, well," the man paused for a second. "Would a voice sampler know about the three fuses it took us to blow up a barracks outside Kabul in ’83?"

"Guess not," Ray replied, remembering a taut night spent scurrying in the dust behind a mujadheen barracks planting explosives to frame the Red Army and derail a peace initiative. "You vouching for these kids?"

The man on the other end of the line chuckled throatily. "As much as I’d vouch for anyone, yeah."

"They’re not exactly normal."

"Well yeah that’s for damn certain," the older man chuckled before turning serious. "They’re good kids, if you’re in the trouble they think you are, you’ll need their help. They’re experts with what you’re facing and whatever they tell you is the god’s honest truth," there was a pause. "Well except maybe that Faith kid, she’s a hellion."

Ray paused for a second, taking in his old mentor’s words. "Okay, thanks." He handed the phone back to the male.

"Thanks," the kid nodded, spoke into the phone for a few seconds before hanging up and turning to him. "So why was the Tekran after you?"

"First of all, what’s a Tekran?" he asked.

"You really didn’t know?" Faith laughed. "Man, that is all sort of bad luck, get one of those sons of bitches after you and not even know what it is!"

"Which really doesn’t answer my question," he pressed.

"They’re an ancient order of demonic assassins," replied the mostly quiet blonde.

"Okay," he took another second to take that in. "And who are you three!"

"Oh! Oh!" The denim clad brunette began to bounce excitedly on the spot, the movement doing mesmerising things to her curvy body. "Can I do it! Can I do it!"

"Fine," the boy shot the raven-haired beauty a confused look. "You can do the speech."

Immediately the girl turned serious, an intense, almost scary look passing over her face. "This world is way older than historians say. Contrary to the bible and shit like that, it did not begin as a paradise. For years demons owned this burg, but then this dude rebelled and raised a massive army and drove them out-."

Xander shook his head. "Giles never sounded anything like that."

"Dude’s English, don’t have my flair," Faith explained before continuing. "All that remains of the old ones is magic and certain creatures... Like those demons I iced earlier."

Ray snorted. "You’re not ser-." He gasped when he suddenly levitated six inches off the bed.

"Tara, she’s a witch, Xander’s the reincarnation of the guy who led the armies who defeated the demons, and I’m the Slayer," Faith smirked. "The one girl in the world with the power to fight demons."

"O…okay," Ray looked from each one of his captors. This was nuts, but on the other hand Brill had said to trust them. "And I can go if I want?"

"Hey," Faith shrugged. "We’re here on vacation, no big to us. I can get to these damn bea-."

"You can go if you want," Xander opened the door. "But that wouldn’t be smart."

"Okay," Ray stared at the kids. "So what’s the plan?"

"First we have to find out," Xander closed the door, "who’s organising the hit on you?"

Ray shrugged. "I already know that. A street gang by the name of Los Bravo Carniceros."

"A street gang?" Faith and Xander exchanged confused looks. "Street gangs don’t have access to the Tekran Order, that doesn’t tally. It must be someone else," the boy said. "Any ideas?"

He shrugged. "In the line of business I worked in you tend to collect enemies," he replied before pausing. "Of course most of them are dead."

"Well that’s bright and sunny," drawled the Slayer. "Why do Los Bravos want you capped anyhow?"

"A few months ago, I stopped one of them from cutting up a girl. The trial ended a few days ago," he shook his head, still disgusted at the legal system, "the guy got off thanks to a slick lawyer."

"Who defended them?"

Ray blinked at the question, surprised that the normally quiet witch had spoken. "A law-firm called Wolfram &Hart."

"Well done, sis," Faith nudged the other girl with her elbow, a delighted look on her face. "Good thinking!"

Ray noted the witch’s slight preen at the other girl’s praise. "Well somebody has to think around here."

Faith shot Tara a look. "Smart ass."

"Who are this firm?" he queried.

"Hell Inc," supplied Faith.

Ray looked towards Xander, none the wiser. "There a pan-dimensional law firm who’ve been representing demonic interests here on earth since around the time the Old Ones left here."

"That’s what I said!" Faith protested. "What’s the plan, X?"

The youth in question stared into space for a few seconds before answering. "Call Gunn, see what he says about going one on one with W&H, we’ve not actually done it, he might have. Me and Tar will investigate these Los Bravos, see if we can get a lead on them."

FIC: MC 24 Jun ’00 Contracted (6/?)

LA, California

BRRINNG! BRRINNG!

"Answer that, honey."

Gunn groaned at his girl-friend’s mumbled command. Knowing he had no choice but to obey, he shoved the bed clothes off and sat up. Grabbing his cell, he opened it up, sighing slightly when he read the illuminated caller id and turned it on. "Yo, Slayer."

"Yo, Gunn," came the jaunty reply. "Judging from the grumpy tone, you were on the job, right?"

Gunn felt his ears burn at the Slayer’s knowing tone. "None of your business," he growled before looking over to his slumbering girl-friend, envying her wrapped up in the all-so warm sheets. "It’s Faith, Kate, I’ll take it in the other room," he whispered in a low voice.

Apparently not low enough, the moment he entered the corridor outside his room, the Bostonian launched into a tirade. "Kate! You’re sleeping with a cop?" He sensed rather than the Slayer’s shake of a head. "T…that’s disgusting. I mean, really low. Remember your roots, man!"

"And what about you?" he shot back as he leaned against the wall. "Xander? You’re telling me he’s street?"

"Okay, maybe not, but he’s better than a cop!"

"Gee, a hot blonde or your boyfriend. Guess which one I’m choosing."

"Hold that thought," Faith purred, "ya just given me an image to play with."

Gunn shuddered. "Tell me you rang for something other than a discussion about my booty-calls, I’m beggin’ you."

The Slayer’s husky chuckle floated down the phone line. "Ya self-conscious, Charlie boy?"

"You have no idea," he replied with a wry smile. He definitely preferred dealing with the bombshell Slayer over the phone. There was far less fallout or potential for embarrassment. "What have you rung for?"

"Yeah," all at once the Slayer’s voice sobered. "Your gang had any run-ins with W&H?"

"A few," he scowled. "They seem to have their dirty little fingers in every demonic pie in the city. You been having trouble with them?"

"A guy in Florida pissed them off by testifying against one of their clients," the Slayer explained. "They put a Tekran hit out on him. X is looking for an angle, a way to kick their asses."

"Even with all the money, resources you gave us, going toe to toe with them isn’t smart. Everything dirty, they have got their fingers in it – witness intimidation, bribery, blackmail of judges, anything to get their own way. They’re utterly ruthless and very powerful."

"Gee," drawled the Slayer, "you’re just a freakin’ ray of sunshine. Were you this cheerful before you started dating Lady Pork?"

Gunn ignored the oblique reference to his girl-friend. "The best way to deal with them is don’t. Avoid them, hit their client, take away their reason for ordering the hit. Then they’ll stop."

"Right," Faith paused. "You ever tried to get a man on the inside of W&H, someone who could maybe feed you information on what’s going down?"

"No way," he shook his head. "We tried blackmailing a couple of lawyers we had things on, nothing. They both killed themselves rather than work for us."

"Heavy," Faith whispered, "they’re that loyal, um?"

"That scared," he corrected. "They have the most sate-of-the art security and a ton of guards. But it doesn’t stop there, they have weekly sweeps with mind readers, demonic security on the upper levels, and in the vaults guarding their most sensitive documents, secret passages known only to the highest level executives. Every one in the entire building is in on it. And fail or betray the firm, and you’ll wish you were dead."

"K," now the Slayer sounded subdued. "Thanks for the scoop. See ya soon. Get back to porking the," the brunette chuckled, "ya know."

"Yeah, good luck," he hung up and stared thoughtfully at the phone.

"Are you coming back to bed?"

Gunn turned to see his girl-friend stood in the doorway of their room, wearing nothing but a smile. Suddenly all thoughts of Faith and the others fled. "Sure am," he replied with a grin.

* * *

Faith hung up the phone and pursed her lips in thought. After a glance at their hostage sat on the bed, Faith strode over to her boyfriend and sis. "Charlie boy says we’re better off taking on the street gang rather than the lawyers if ya can believe that."

"Yeah I can," Xander looked wicked serious. "Wolfram & Hart are big. Some day maybe we’ll be big enough to take them on, but until then we’ll have to dance around them."

Faith’s nose wrinkled. That sounded wicked like dodging out on a fight. She didn’t like the sound of that. "Ya scared of them?"

Xander shot her an irritated look, she met it with interest. "Some of us have the sense not to run head-first into a firefight unless they have to," her man reproved. "Mithras remembers the Wolfram & Hart, they don’t get much bigger than them. Mayor Wilkins was one of their clients, they own small nations, and go back to the freakin’ dawn of time, representing crims, demons, corrupt politicians, the whole nine yards."

"K, k," Faith raised her hands in supplication. "I get the point, they’re bad-asses."

"We’ll take them on if it’s the only way to save someone, but otherwise, it’s smarter to fight around them," Xander grimaced. "Somehow I think we’ll be going toe to toe with them some day soon."

"Jeez, cheer me up why don’t ya?" Faith shook her head. Her boytoy just finishes telling her why it’s not smart to take on Wolfram & Hart and then tells her they’ll have to take them on anyway. Way to boost her spirits. Somehow she doubted he’d be getting many bookings as a motivational speaker. "So, what’s the plan?"

Xander glanced towards Tara. "Tara?"

"I’ve been looking through the FBI & DEA records," her sis explained, "Angela patched me in. There’s a lot on Los Bravos. They’ve been around since the early 90s, exploded out of the Latino community-."

"Do we need the histo-." Faith’s mouth clamped shut at her sis’ glare.

"They’re located deep in the Latino community, own a ton of legit businesses, dry cleaners, auto shops, and amusement arcades, but most of their money comes from drugs, prostitution, and extortion. Any time anything major comes to trial, Wolfram & Hart come in, and destroy any prosecution."

"Any clue on the reason a bunch of low-rent gangsters have got a link into Hell Inc.?" Xander queried.

"Nothing," Tara replied.

"Well you know what they say about high pressure execs," Faith put in, "Los Bravos are probably supplying cocaine to half the staff."

Xander shook his head. "Somehow I doubt W&H would allow them to get addicted to something that might make them erratic."

Faith shrugged, dismissing the lack of a link as unimportant. "So what’s the plan?"

* * *

Ray watched as the trio of youths worked and talked between themselves, the brown-eyed bombshell shooting him the occasional suspicious look. For all their youth and apparent immaturity, they worked well as a team. To use a cliché like the cogs of a well-oiled machine. But just how competent and experienced were they?

* * *

"We know where the Brotherhood’s hq is, we’re going to take out the leadership in one hit," Xander replied. "Take them out and there’s no demand for the hit."

"There’s one problem though," Tara interrupted. "We’ve got to keep him alive until then."

"Only one?" Faith queried. "Hate to be all technical on ya but there’s only three of us-."

"Four," Xander shook his head. "Ray’s an ex CIA assassin. Brill said one of their best."

Faith raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Four then. Say, you think he might be Brotherhood material?"

Xander’s eyes flitted towards the man. "Yeah, maybe. A Florida branch would be useful. Best leave that until afterwards though."

"Oh, oh," they both turned towards big sis. "We’ve got a problem."

Xander sighed. "Why does that not surprise me? Give it to me, Tara."

"Hey," Faith smirked. "You’re only supposed to say that to me, X." Faith laughed when her sis and her honey simultaneously blushed. "Go on, Tar."

"The gang hq is under permanent surveillance from the Florida Narcotics squad."

Xander groaned. "Well isn’t that just lovely?"

FIC: MC 24 June ‘00 Contracted (7/?)

"X," Faith pulled Xander to one side as they left the hotel, Tara and Quick going on ahead, and Faith’s eyes dancing from left to right, searching the mid-afternoon streets for any sign of trouble. "We’re gonna be going against, maybe killing, humans here, hon."

"I know Faith," Xander slid an arm around her shoulders, instantly comforting her. "And it’s hard. But I look at it this way, W&H lawyers, gangsters, child abusers, crooked politicians, human scum, they might not do the damage of an Angelus or a Darla, but in one important way they’re far, far worse." Faith looked up in confusion at X’s unusually serious face. "Angelus, any vampire, doesn’t have a choice about the way they act, they’re soulless, like rabid dogs. Humans though, they have a choice, the soul gives them the choice, they chose to be evil."

"Yeah," Faith nodded slowly, "I guess. What’s the plan?"

"First we buy a car, and then we head down to the headquarters," Faith listened as her boyfriend began to outline his plan.

* * *

Lowery groaned as he watched the brown-stoned warehouse cum office opposite. "Damn, this is boring," he groused.

"Man," his partner replied in-between sips of his McDonalds milkshake, "you bitch more than Theresa when it’s her time of the month."

"Oh yeah?" Lowery looked towards Burnett. "You want me to tell her that?"

"Hey bitch," Burnett laughed, "you breathe a word of this conversation and you’ll be looking for a new partner."

"’Cause she’ll bury your ass?"

"Something like that," Burnett replied.

Lowery laughed before staring at the brown-stoned building again, his mood darkening. "We should be cracking heads, not watching them," he complained.

"You know they’ve got heavy-duty legal eagles working for them," Burnett sighed. "We just gotta wait until Los Bravos give us enough to hang ‘em with."

* * *

"You’re trained in pursuit driving?"

Ray nodded at Xander’s question. "Had to be, worked as a bodyguard on occasion."

"Good," the boy paused when he saw his girl-friend shaking hands with the salesman, stood beside a blood-red convertible. "She bought a Mustang? For a car we’re going to use once?"

"Well they’re fast," the boy’s glare was scorching. He shrugged and smiled. "Just saying."

"Oh yeah," the boy muttered. "Everyone wants to spend MY money. Faith!"

* * *

"I can’t believe you spent all that money on a car we’re gonna use once. I mean, seriously. I was thinking a land rover or a 4*4, something robust. But $ 45,000 on a Ford Mustang convertible?"

"Geez, X," Faith snapped. "As rich as you are, does it really matter? And we’ve gotta make an impact, make the right impression. ‘Sides," she looked around, the top of the car down as Ray drove them through downtown Miami, "this is Florida man!" She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the sun beating down on her and the wind gently brushing her hair. "Ya gotta drive in a convertible in Florida!"

"We’re here."

Faith sighed at the sound of Ray’s voice breaking the spell. "Everyone understand their part in the plan?"

Faith opened her mouth to say ‘yeah’ to X’s query. "I…I can’t do it."

"Damn it sis," Faith shot Tara an irritated look, "I don’t like it anymore than you-."

"I’m a Wicca!" her sister shouted. "We’re not supposed to kill!"

Faith opened her mouth. "It’s alright, Tara. I understand," Xander paused. "But someday you might have to."

"I…I know," the wicca looked down. "I think I could in a fight, in self-defence or to help one of you guys, but to pick the fight," the blonde shook her head, "I…I can’t."

"I’ll take her place," Ray interrupted.

"They’ll recognise you!" Faith protested.

"Not if I," the man looked down at his fashionable attire and grimaced, "wear sun-glasses and change into some of Xander’s clothes."

"Yeah," Faith nodded sagely. "I can see how that would be a sacrifice. But try dating him."

"Hey!"

* * *

"Wow, look at that honey!" Lowery exclaimed. "She is tight."

Burnett shook his head, he wasn’t interested. "Happily married man-, oh boy," his eyes widened, "she’s a honey."

"Told you," Lowery raised their camera and took photos of the trio entering the Los Bravos head-quarters. "Wonder what business they’ve got with Los Bravos."

"Whatever it is, can’t be go-," Burnett’s voice trailed off. "Middle-aged man, teen hottie, young guy maybe twenty, blonde in the car, they match the general description of the gang that Foley saw off a man."

"Florida’s a big state, Marcus," Lowery pointed out. "Could be coincidental."

"Yeah," Burnett nodded slowly. "I guess, we’ll just hang cool for a while."

* * *

"Faith," Faith looked towards her stern-faced boyfriend as they approached the building. "Me and Ray will take out the leaders, you’re just running interference, putting the security down but not dead for us."

"Damn it, X!"

"I want you with us, not in the car with Tara, but if I have to-."

Faith glared at her boyfriend before nodding reluctantly. "Fine!"

Xander stared at her for a second before turning to the third member of the team. "You remember the photos of the group’s leaders?"

"Photographic memory," the man replied. Xander nodded.

"Yo man," three Latinos stepped out from the building’s doorway as they reached it, all muscles and prison tattoos, shooting her all too customary leers. "This ain’t the place for gringos. Take your puta," the leader, a guy closer to seven than six foot tall, winked at her, "and get out of here before we kick your ass."

"Kick our ass." All at once Faith was glad that Ray was here. Not that her and X couldn’t have handled the guards, but they didn’t have an ounce of Ray’s finesse. The former CIA agent smiled. "That wouldn’t be smart at all." The man opened the steel briefcase that Xander had given him to reveal the 3 H&K MP5s inside. "Not when we can provide all the hardware you boys could ever need. Army surplus boys, my son," Ray glanced at Xander, "just finished his tour, and between the two of us, we’ve got real good contacts."

"Fuck!" The lead thug’s eyes widened at the sight of the three guns. After a quick glance left and right, the man motioned them in. "Inside, the pigs are always watching us."

The moment the trio of them were inside the building, in its dank corridor, its ancient wallpaper peeling away, the lead guard turned to them with a lick of his lips, an evil glint in his half-squinting brown eyes. "We’re gonna have to pat you all down for weapons and bugs," the man’s eyes rested on her. "All of you."

"Like hell!" Xander started forward.

Faith raised a hand. She’d been expecting this. "It’s cool, hon." She looked towards the guards. "One guy, and take any liberties and my baby will make sure they never find the remains."

"She’s mine." Faith smiled as the lead guard approached, silently promising herself that she’d be beating his ass later on.

She endured a humiliating minute of the man fondling her body before pulling away. "That’s enough," she declared, eyes burning a hole in the asshole, "are we goin’ in or not?"

"Sure, sugar," the man purred. "This way."

Faith nodded. Oh yeah, el gigante was definitely going down hard.

* * *

"So I took my knife, heated it up, and stuck it through the fucker’s palm!" he took a moment to glory in his subordinates’ laughter before continuing. "He’s not missed a payment since!"

"You’re the man, Andres!" crowed his second-in-command, a short fat dude with a scar over his left eye who’d grown up in the same neighbourhood as him. "The fuckin’ man!"

"Yo boss," Andres twisted his head towards the doorway to see Chale, his head guard, stood there, a nervous look on the giant’s face. "We got some guests who wanna do business."

Andres spun his chair around to face the man. "They buying or selling?"

"Selling boss," replied Chale. "They’ve got some serious shit going down. Guns."

Andres beamed. "Bring ‘em in."

FIC: MC 24 Jun ’00 Contracted (8/?)

"You got guns for me?" the fat man clad only in a string vest and dirty jeans stood. Xander grimaced as he noted the food dangling from the man’s beard. The guy made him look like a bastion of cleanliness and deportment. The man leered at Faith for a second before glancing towards Ray, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Say, do I know you?"

"I’m new in town, so I doubt that," the former CIA agent replied, seemingly unfazed by the gangster’s distrust. "Are you interested?" the intelligence operative opened up the steel briefcase.

"Oh yeah!" Andres Chavez, Xander recognised him from his mug-shot, snatched up one of the guns. "These are the stuff!"

"There’s no firing pins," pointed out another of the men with the big boss, a tall, lean guy with the stereotypical Pancho Villa handlebar moustache. Despite the facial hair Xander guessed the youth was barely out of his teens if that.

"Of course not," the at-ease American replied. "Do you think you’re dealing with amateurs? You agree to buy, we decide a price, and we’ll bring ammo everything to a meeting place."

Andres shot Faith another leer. "How about we agree a price, you boys go and get the equipment and me and the boys have a party with the pretty lady?"

Xander gritted his teeth against his instinctive retort. Faith could take care of herself. He glanced around. Faith was stood by the door, with the three guards. He and Ray had five men directly facing them, all bar Andres armed. He and Ray were unarmed, although he had two loaded shotguns waiting for them in the Always Pocket. Not the best situation in the world to be in, but manageable.

"Afraid not gentlemen," Ray’s smile was unruffled. "We like to keep things strictly professional."

"A shame," Andres licked his corpulent lips before turning serious. "what have you got to sell?"

Xander licked his lips before interrupting. "Nothing you’d want."

* * *

Ray saw Andres’ eyes flicker in bemusement at Xander’s interruption. Reaching out with his left hand, he snatched the shotgun off the younger man, grateful that they’d practiced just how his Always Pocket worked. "What the-."

Andres’ exclamation was drowned out in the echo of his shotgun’s boom, the portly thug’s chest disappearing in a shower of blood as he flew backwards, hitting the ground by the far wall in a spasming heap. His ears still ringing, and cordite filling his nose, he turned his gun on the two men who’d been flanking the Los Bravos leaders, blowing them in half with two clinical shots. He just hoped Faith and Xander held up their end.

* * *

The moment that her baby spoke the three words to set off their operation, Faith moved. Spinning around, she caught the biggest of the three men with a kick to the chest, propelling him through the door, and into the corridor outside. Seeing the two men flanking her turning towards her, Faith flicked out a heel kick to the one on her left, shattering his knee.

"Arggh!"

Even as the man fell, Faith was spinning to face his companion. Reaching out, she grabbed two handfuls of shirt, threw him over her head, and headfirst into the wall behind. Spinning around, she saw the tallest of the three guards coming back through the doorway, a dazed look on his face, and side heel-kicked him in the groin. The man croaked, his knees buckling beneath him as he dropped, falling right into her elbow, his nose exploding in a crimson mist.

Seeing the two remaining thugs struggling to their feet, their faces pained, and their hands reaching for their hardware, she moved in at a blur, grabbing the two men by the side of their heads, and slamming the heads together with bone-cracking force. The two men groaned before crumpling and sliding down to the ground. A triumphant grin on her face, she turned to face the others.

Bile rose in her throat at the sight of the gangsters’ broken bodies lying crumpled on the ground, the lifeblood spilling out of them, their shocked faces as ashen grey as any vampire’s, and their lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Before she knew it she was on her knees dry-heaving. These were people, not demons, yeah, they were scum, but they’d leave behind family who’d maybe care about them, and she’d helped end their lives. "Faith," she faintly heard Xander’s voice, as if coming from a long way away. "The police might have heard that, we need to leave now."

"Sure," she nodded before forcing herself to her feet. Looking anywhere but at the corpses, she turned to the doorway.

And fell when her shaking legs buckled beneath her. "Gotcha," Xander whispered in her ear as he scooped her up into her arms. "Let’s go."

"I’ll lead the way," Ray volunteered before hurrying past them, stepping over the crumpled thug lying in the doorway.

* * *

Lowery looked up. "Did you hear that?"

His partner nodded. "I heard that. I’ll call it in -."

"Screw that!" he reached for the door handle.

"Hang on!" his friend grabbed his arm. "We don’t know how many are waiting for us in there!"

"And your point is?" Mike demanded.

"Point is," his partner shook his head, "we don’t know how many there are in there. But we do know they’re all bad guys, no innocents would willingly walk into that building, so no need to rush head-long into a fire-fight to save some asshole who’d only want to blow our heads off. This is a job for SWAT. Just call it in, get involved if it leaves the building and innocents are put at risk."

"Yeah," Mike nodded reluctantly, his eyes fixed on the building opposite. "Call it in, then." As much as he hated to admit it, his partner’s words made an uncomfortable sense. They’d been watching every one who came in and out of the building for hours, and everybody in there was a scumbag with a long rap sheet. Except the newcomers and they’d gone in willingly, so they obviously had business with Los Bravos, and important business too, otherwise they’d had gone to one of the street dealers.

He tensed suddenly. "Say Marcus," he said casually. "You thinking about going for a pleasure drive?"

His partner shot him an irritated look. "What are you talking about, fool?" He wordlessly pointed through the windscreen. His best friend’s eyes widened comically at the sight of the trio charging out of the building, the girl in the young man’s arms. "Guess we know who won then," his fellow officer laconically commented.

"Guess we do," he replied, eyes fixed on the car across the road.

* * *

Tara looked up as the car door flew open, a spell on her lips. She relaxed when she recognised Xander only to tense again when she registered her best friend curled up foetally in the man’s arms. "Is she -."

"She’s alright," Xander snapped. "Just went into shock at the -. Move over." She obeyed with alacrity, climbing into the back beside the expressionless secret agent, even as her friend gently lowered his girl-friend into the passenger seat. "It’ll be okay, Faith." The vacant-eyed Slayer just looked ahead.

Xander sighed before dropping behind the driver’s seat and gunning out of the parking spot, narrowly avoiding a passing truck. "Every one’s still got their gloves on, right?" Without waiting for an answer the man continued. "We’ll dump the car." Xander chuckled darkly. "Forensics will have a hell of a time trying to match up ballistics to guns they can’t actually find."

Tara looked behind her. "Xander, we’ve picked up a trail."

"Make my day complete," Xander took a hard left, narrowly avoiding an oncoming ice-cream van. Mr. Whoopy nearly had a very bad day. Spinning into a narrow alley, her friend let out a shout. "Still coming!"

"They’re on us!"

"Great," he muttered. Roaring out of the alley, he rejoined the traffic, causing a Chrysler to brake heavily to avoid them, its horn blaring in protest. "Sorry!"

Looking into the wing mirror, he saw the plain-clothes police car roaring after him, its black driver glaring intently at him. "Oops," he smirked. "I made him mad." Yanking on the wheel, he screeched across the road, pulling onto the freeway. Seeing a bridge coming up, and looking at the road beneath them, he grinned suddenly. "You think we can make it?"

"Xander," Tara’s voice trembled, whether from rage or fear he wasn’t certain, "don’t you-."

"Seatbelts at the ready." The witch let out a wordless scream when he yanked the wheel and sent the car smashing into the barrier. The impact shook every tooth but that paled into comparison with the crashing impact of the car landing, narrowly avoiding an on-rushing lorry, only a violent yank of the wheel pulling them clear, the lorry so close, Xander could hear the driver’s expletive-filled scream.

* * *

"F-U-C-K!" Burnett exclaimed. "That mother is cra-," his eyes flicked to his partner. "Oh shit," he shook his head, "don’t you dare." He grabbed a hold of the dashboard and kissed his ass goodbye as the car launched into the air. "M-I-K-E!"

FIC: MC 24 Jun ’00 Contracted (9/?)

"I don’t believe it, nobody’s that crazy," Xander muttered.

"You are!" Tara screamed. "You did it first!"

"Well, I never met someone as nuts as me before."

"Geez," Tara muttered. "Maybe you should start a club."

Faith stirred at the sound of her friends’ bickering, the jarring impact of their landing awakening her from her catatonia. She glanced in the rear window. "Who’s following us?" she muttered.

"Faith?" Xander’s beam lit up his face as he weaved in and out of traffic at speeds over 100 kph. "You’re awake."

"Yeah," she smiled, the knot around her heart loosening at Xander’s smile. "Who’s following us?"

"Cops," Xander looked at her as she leapt up onto the passenger seat, Slayer balance meaning she had no problem keeping her equilibrium . "What are you doing?"

Faith smirked as she unfastened her belt. "Something I’ve always wanted to do."

"I’m afraid to ask," X muttered as he yanked the car down a turn-off.

* * *

"Holy shit!" Burnett complained as they hit the ground with a spine-jarring thud, turning towards his partner to glare volcanically. "Damn, Mike! I can’t believe you did that. You’re as crazy as that asshole."

"Can’t let them get away," replied his partner, eyes fixed to the road. "Besides," his partner’s eyes widened, "neither of us are as crazy as she is!"

"Bitch," Brunett turned back to the road, "what are you-," his voice trailed off as he saw the brunette stand on the car’s front seat, raven hair swinging wildly in the wind. "What is she do-," again his voice trailed off when the girl dropped her leather pants to reveal a wondrously pert, black thonged bottle-butt. After a second the girl wiggled her perfectly-proportioned ass in a slow, seductive circle before looking over her shoulder, winking, and blowing them a kiss.

"Now there’s a sight to savour," his partner gunned the engine. "Shame she’s going down for a long time, otherwise I’d definitely get her number."

"Oh boy," Marcus muttered. He wondered if he was the only sane one left in the world.

* * *

"Faith, sit down and put your pants back on!" Xander exclaimed, cheeks burning as his girl-friend mooned the pursuing cops.

"I can’t decide who’s crazier," he heard Ray mutter, "the driver or his girlfriend." The man paused. "We never did things this way in the CIA."

"Bet ya," Faith tugged her pants up and dropped back into the seat, "never had any fun either."

"Fun?" Xander shot his girl-friend a disbelieving look. "Fun? We’re fleeing for our lives and you’re pulling moonies at the police? Are you insane?"

"Hey," Faith half-smirked as he yanked the car around in an u-turn, rubber burning, and started back towards the cop car, pulling in and out of on-rushing traffic. The police car tried to cut across and ram them, but he neatly placed a truck between him and the cops, momentarily cutting them off before speeding away. "I always wanted to do it. Saw my opportunity. Took it."

"Nuts," Tara muttered. "I’m stuck with a pair of crazies."

* * *

"Damn!" Mike cursed as the car screeched around to face them, speeding towards them, two lanes away. "There is no way they are getting away from us!"

"Don’t you-," his best friend’s voice heightened considerably "DARE!"

Ignoring his partner’s panicked screams, in his opinion Marcus had always over-reacted, he yanked the wheel towards the on-rushing car, intent on ramming them. "Damn it!" he cursed again as their prey managed to put a haulage truck between them. He glanced over his shoulder before putting the car in reverse and screeching backwards. As soon as the truck was gone, he put the car back into drive and rammed it forward, just in time to see the other vehicle roar across the other freeway. "This mother is freakin’ nuts!" he yelled as he chased after him.

"And yet," his increasingly agitated partner screamed. "You keep following him!"

* * *

"Fuck!" Faith looked over her shoulder as Xander sent them charging across three lanes of traffic, cars screaming to a halt to avoid them. "They’re still coming, X!"

"Really?" the car banked to the left, joining the traffic flow and began darting in and out of traffic. "We’ll have to do something about that."

"Oh yeah," Faith asked. "Any ideas what?"

"Just this," her boyfriend yanked on the wheel, leaving the road and sending them on a bruising journey down the bumpy and steep embankment.

"Jesus, X!" Faith yelped as her teeth rattled together. "He’s still coming."

"Yeah?" X yanked the car to his right, once again going with the flow of traffic, and headed into a dimly lit tunnel. A few seconds later and they were half-way down the busy passageway. Suddenly X pulled on the wheel, spinning the car around in yet another u-turn, they’d done so many she was getting dizzy. Car horns blared and wheels protested as numerous passing vehicles swerved to avoid them. Gunning the engine, X sent them racing back in the direction they’d just gone.

Faith looked over her shoulder, shaking her head in disbelief. "Still there, X."

This time X didn’t answer, just yanked on the wheel, sending them across lines of onrushing traffic and off the road. And towards a near-by train-line, complete with nearing train.

"Oh no," Tara muttered. "You cannot be serious?"

In answer Xander gunned the engine, forcing a few more revs from the exhausted and battered vehicle. Faith’s teeth ground together, her hands pinching the dashboard, and sweat beaded on her forehead. She was into the thrill of the chase, but this was a little bit much. The sound of the roaring train grew nearer, the vibrations through the ground ever more intense as they approached, and the stench of oil filled her lungs.

Faith gulped as she saw the rapidly approaching crossing. "X, may-." Her voice trailed off as they smashed through the down barrier. One last horrified look at the massive on-rushing train, and she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see what happened next.

The car hit the tracks with a shudder, the impact added to by the sound of the train’s panicked horn and the smell of its nearness. And then, a brief yet eternal moment later and they were clear. "We’re home," Xander announced before continuing on their way, "they’re the other side of the tracks."

* * *

"Damn!" Lowery hit the brakes. "We lost them!" he glared balefully at the on-rushing train, knowing that the scant seconds they lost waiting for the black gargantuan to scream by would give their quarry more than enough time to escape.

"Yeah," his partner nodded. "But on the plus side we’re still breathing."

"Great." He punched the wheel.

* * *

"Here will do," Xander announced, breaking the silence that had begun when he’d raced the train. Pulling under a flyover, he leapt out, grateful that Tony had set them up with a number of false ids. No way this car could be tracked back to them. Especially after what he did next.

Pulling the C4 that Ray had set up earlier out of the Always Pocket, he made to climb under the car, only to be grabbed by the elbow by Ray. "This is my expertise, kid."

"Okay," he nodded. "Thanks."

"No problem," the CIA operative looked at him. "Where did you learn to drive like that?"

"Dukes Of Hazard re-runs? Knight Rider?"

Ray stared at him and shook his head. "You are nuts," the man exclaimed before climbing under the car.

"Say man," Faith crouched beside the secret agent. "How do ya do that?"

Seeing an opportunity, Xander pulled Tara to a distance. "Faith sort of collapsed when we killed the thugs," he admitted in a whisper. "I was really worried about her, she seems to have come out of it a bit, but still, I’m worried. How’s her aura?"

"She’s a Slayer," his friend replied. "That means she’s unusually resilient. The fact that they were clearly bad guys helped too, but it might take some time. What’s the next step?"

"Get away from here, find the Tekran agents, and kill them," he replied.

"Oh," Tara suddenly greyed, her eyes fixed on an area over his shoulder. "Finding them won’t be a problem."

Xander turned. "Oh crap."

FIC: MC 24 Contracted (10/10)

Faith’s eyes widened as a red blob with one eye dropped off the bridge above them, landing on the opposite side of the car. "CIA guy," she kept her eyes fixed on the monster and her tone calm. "Finished yet?"

"Just about."

"Wicked!" Grabbing the guy’s shoulders, she yanked him out from under the car, and dragged him backwards, retreating as fast as she could go carrying the weight.

"What the-."

"Look at the car!" Faith screamed. "Blow it!"

The former CIA agent’s eyes widened as he looked up to see the monster somehow leap onto the roof of the car, the vehicle’s roof dinting with an audible crunch under its massive bulk. "Sure." The explosives expert pulled out a detonator and pressed.

The force of the explosion threw Faith to the ground, her ears pounding with the concussive sound. But it also sent the car up in flames, vaporising the demon before it even had time to scream. "Damn," Faith muttered. "Char-grilled demon, my second favourite meat. Speaking of which," she glanced towards her honey, "wonder how my favourite meat’s doing?"

* * *

The avian-faced demon he was facing was tall, closing on seven feet, but rail thin, looking like a strong wind could snap him half. However it wasn’t his size that was Xander’s concern. He was more worried about the gleaming claws sprouting out of the demon’s ham sized hands. They were long enough to give Wolverine an envy-induced ulcer. Or at least really piss off the grumpy Canadian. "Two can play at that game," Xander muttered as he pulled a broadsword out. "You want steel?" he smiled. "I got steel."

The demon’s beak opened in a high-pitched screech. Shocked, Xander stepped back. The demon leapt forward, its claws slashing from left and right. Regaining his poise, Xander ducked beneath the left strike, the blow cutting the air above his head, and blocked the right with his sword, wincing slightly at the reverberation that ran up his arm. Bird-Demon had serious power despite his scrawny frame.

Bending his knees, he allowed the demon’s next slashes to pass harmlessly overhead before straightening and thrusting at the demon’s chest. "You’ve gotta be kiddin’!" he groused as the demon bent backwards at the waist until its torso was parallel with the ground, allowing his attack to pass harmlessly over before straightening and attacking him again.

Instead of retreating, Xander bounded to meet his opponent, ducking beneath one slash and blocking the other with his sword before slamming into the demon, his shoulder smashing into the monster’s chest. Shocked, the demon stumbled backwards, Xander’s sword slashed up, its claw blocked it.

And the throwing dagger he’d just pulled out imbedded itself in his opponent’s throat.

Xander looked towards the others as his opponent hit the ground, a greyish goo that he could only guess was blood pumping out of the monster’s neck. "Let’s get out of here," he suggested.

"I know where we can go."

Xander nodded even as he exchanged glances with his two friends, Quick was taking this better than he’d expected.

* * *

Ray allowed himself a shaky breath as he let the trio into his underground home. They were, he realised, the first guests he’d ever had here. But then, considering they’d saved his life several times in one day, he supposed trust was a redundant issue. Turning to his guests, he forced a smile. "Please, sit down."

"Wow," he heard the Slayer mutter as she looked around, "is it still paranoia even when someone is out to get ya?"

"Any of you want drinks?" Ray ignored the Slayer’s comment to play the civil host. At their affirmatives, he walked over to the fridge and took out a trio of soda cans. "Thanks for today."

"It’s our job," Xander nodded as he took his can and looked towards Tara. The Witch nodded. "And it could be yours," the boy added, passing a laptop to the girl.

"What do you mean?" he listened as the kid explained about the Mithras Brotherhood. "Resources? What sort of resources?"

Xander turned to Tara. "Tara?"

The witch opened the laptop. "We’d set up a $ 150,000,000 dollar trust fund," he gaped at the numbers being banded about, "and give you the annual interest to work with."

"All that’s money great," Ray replied. "But what about back-up?"

"You know Brill, he runs our electronic surveillance and communications division," Ray nodded approvingly at Xander’s words, he knew in that case it would be good, very good. "We also have a national demonic intelligence network that will forewarn you of anything major, world-threatening happening in Florida. And an arms dealer working exclusively with us."

"Sounds good," Ray said cautiously. It did sound like the kid had got things worked out. "But what about operatives?"

Xander glanced towards Tara. The witch looked up from the computer screen. "We’ve got reports of several experienced vampire hunting groups of 6 – 12 people working in the Florida area. In Tallahassee, Jacksonville, Miami, Tampa, and Orlando." The blonde passed him a sheet of paper. "There’s the details. In addition," the blonde smiled, "here is a psychic and two white witches who’ve occasionally fought demons in the past. They could all be interested."

Ray stared at the information neatly printed out in front of him, seeing but not truly taking it in. This all sounded so fantastic. And yet, he’d battled demons today. And the resources offered, he smiled slowly, this was a chance to make a real difference, not sleep-walk through life providing security for nightclubs, and he doubted that he could go back to that anyway, not after today. "I’ll do it."

Xander grinned. "Great. Now," the boy’s face fell comically, "there’s the paperwork."

* * *

W&H Building, LA.

"Mr. Manners."

Holland looked up at the knock on his door. "Please, Lillah, do come in."

"Thank you sir," the immaculately as always turned out junior partner walked into his office and stood nervously by the seat at the other side of the desk.

He revelled in her edginess for a few seconds before speaking. "Please, Lillah. Don’t stand on ceremony. Sit."

"Thank you, sir," the younger lawyer quickly sat. "There’s a report just in, both Los Bravos and the Tekrans have been taken out."

Holland raised an eyebrow. "I assume Mr. Quick, as formidable as our records indicate he is, didn’t manage this on his own?"

"No sir," the lawyer shook her head. "It was Harris."

"Ah," he sat back in his comfy leather chair, deep in contemplation. It was several minutes before he spoke. "He’s a rather resourceful young man isn’t he?"

"Yes sir."

"I don’t suppose there’s any chance he could be turned to our cause?" he asked.

His hopes were quashed by Lillah’s shake of the head. "No sir. The records indicate even before his possession he was unlikely to be converted, he’s an extremely moral and honourable young man -."

"We see far too little of that these days," he smiled. "Don’t you think, Lillah?"

"Far too little sir," Lillah agreed. "And with the possession he’s going to be even harder to convert. Almost impossible, given Mithras’ strong will and intense demon hatred."

"And with the added difficulty of actually getting our hands on the damn boy," Holland shook his head. "Well, it was just a thought."

"Yes, sir. What should I do about the hit?"

"The hit?" he waved a nonchalant hand. "Cancel it. There’s no client to pay it now anyway."

"Yes, sir." Lillah hesitated.

"What Lillah?" he prompted with a sigh.

"What about the Order? They won’t be happy."

Holland smiled. "No, no they won’t will they?"

* * *

Order HQ., Somewhere in Europe

"And Wolfram & Hart, they cancelled the contract?"

"Yes, sir." The novice nodded nervously.

The head of the order glared around the vast grey chamber that served as his throne room for want of a better word. It wasn’t decorated, he preferred it to be left bare, to reflect the harshness of a Tarakaran’s life. "Damn Wolfram & Hart!" he clenched his fists, all too conscious of his impotence against the mighty law firm. Not even the Order dared challenged Wolfram & Hart. But there was one person he was far from impotent against. Looking at his subordinate, he smiled. "Put out the word to all our agents, no matter the cost, the lives of Harris and the Slayer are forfeit! The assassin who brings me their heads will receive their own weight in gold!"

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