FIC: MC 20 April ’00 Gangs & Clubs (1/?)

Philadelphia

Tara looked around the rustic shop, its wooden floor-boards creaking under foot. The air was filled with a score of intermingling smells wafting out of the jars of multi-coloured creams, liquids, and pills stacked on the shelves. Turning her attention back to the wizened man behind the counter, she smiled before checking her purchases, ensuring she had all the spell ingredients she needed were in the brown bag she clutched to her chest. Finally satisfied, she smiled and opened her Native American purse her sister had bought her for Christmas. Pulling out three twenties, she passed them to the man, noting his dry skin as their hands briefly touched. "Keep the change," she smiled at the man before walking out, purchases hugged to her side.

* * *

Ye Chan sighed as the door bell rang behind the pretty gajin, signifying her exit. Such a nice child, but her purchases had marked her. He swallowed as he reached for the phone, his free hand wiping at the guilty tears forming in his eyes. If he didn’t inform his master and he found out, he would take a terrible revenge. Hand shaking, he stabbed the phone pad until the number was input. He waited for a few rings, hoping that his master would not be in to take the call, that he could say he tried.

"Hello?"

Chan’s heart dropped. Licking his lips, he spoke. "It is I, master, Ye Chan," he bowed his head in respect.

"Yes," his master interrupted, his tone impatient. "Go on!"

"Sir, a witch has just left the shop," he reported, panic growing at his Master’s anger. "She’s a -."

"The blonde round-eye who just left your store?"

Chan felt a sheen of sweat form at the criminal mastermind’s words, confirming his long-held suspicion that his store was under constant surveillance. Realising he was committing the dire and possibly fatal sin of keeping the ruler of Chinatown waiting, Chan babbled out a confirmation. "Yes, sir."

"You’ve served me well." There was a click as the man on the other end hung up. Chan stared at the receiver for a second, hand shaking slightly, before hanging up. If he’d done so well, why did he feel so awful?

* * *

Tara allowed herself a contented smile as she looked around the Chinese street market, savouring the unique sights, smells, and sounds. She wished Faith and Xander had come with her for this, but getting her friends out of bed in the early morning required a magic she didn’t posses. Tara glanced at her watch. Her eyes widened as she realised she had only ten minutes to get across to Joy Tsin Lau’s Chinese Restaurant and meet the others. Ten minutes to cover two miles, Tara grimaced. Faith wasn’t exactly Miss Punctuality, but she’d cuss and moan if anyone kept her waiting. "Better take my lumps," Tara muttered as she started through the gaudily decorated stalls, the sound of exploding firecrackers filling the air.

As she passed by the mouth of a narrow alley, a chubby, pock-marked youth barged into her, knocking her stumbling into the alley. "Hey!"

Her anger turned to concern when she registered the other two teens behind her, surrounding her. Realising she didn’t have time to cast a spell, she threw her bag of shopping at the youth in front of her before stepping backwards and driving her left elbow back.

One of her would-be assailants gasped as her attack caught him in the throat, making the youth slump against the wall. Spinning around, she caught the third youth, a short, thin boy, with a palm strike to the mouth. "Oww!" she winced as pain jarred through her wrist. It always seemed easier when Faith did it.

Still, her blow had its required effect, bursting open her adversary’s bottom lip and knocking him onto his ass. Seeing her chance, Tara made to run between the two stunned thugs.

"Nooo!" she screamed in horror as the youth to her left grabbed her ankle and pulled. Off-balance, she fell to the refuse-strewn ground. Sensing a youth behind her, she shot out a heel, catching the man on the shin. The young man grunted and stumbled backwards. Tara scrambled up to her hands and knees.

And crumpled when a trash can lid smashed into the back of her head, knocking her unconscious.

* * *

"Damn," Faith crowed. "Tara’s late," the Slayer began to sing in the least musical voice Xander had ever heard. "And she’s gonna pay! She’s gonna pay!"

"You can talk about being late," Xander pointed out. "And it’s just five minutes."

Xander shrivelled under Faith’s glare from across the discreetly-lit restaurant’s table. "Not the point," his gorgeous girl-friend shot back. "This is Tara, she’s never late and always bitches when we are. It’s payback." Xander wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. Last time they’d argued, he’d spent three nights on the couch getting a crick in his neck. Some time later, Faith spoke, her earlier glee replaced by a look of worry. "What time is it?"

Xander glanced at the timepiece on his wrist, a $1,200 Swiss Watch. "12:20," he replied, the worry in his girl’s eyes now gripping his heart. Tara was never late and if she was going to be late, she was far too considerate of others not to ring to stutteringly apologise.

"Twenty minutes," Faith scowled. "I don’t like this," the raven-haired teen announced as she reached into her leather jacket, pulled out her mobile, called up the memory, and rang Tara’s number. Her normally full lips thinned to a narrow line. Shaking her head, Faith shoved her phone back in her pocket. "Nothing. Try yours."

"K," Xander pulled his own phone out and called up Tara’s number. After a dozen unanswered rings, he hung up. "Nothing."

"FUCK!" Faith exploded. Seeing the eating establishment’s other patrons staring at her, she glared around her until they all got the message and turned back to their meals. Apparently satisfied, the Slayer turned back to him. "Ya got the name of that place sis was heading to?"

Xander nodded. "Chan’s Herbal Palace."

"Well?" Faith stood, leather pants creaking at her movement and her eyes impatient. "Get your ass into gear! Big sis is in trouble!"

"Yes, dear," Xander muttered as he rose, his own heart thumping with worry.

* * *

Faith’s heart pounded as she hurried through Chinatown’s crowded street market, heedlessly knocking people out of her way, her mouth filled with the bitter taste of fear. "Fuck, big sis," she muttered. "If you’ve got hurt, I’m so gonna kick your fucking ass." Suddenly she realised X wasn’t beside her. Spinning around, she glared at her heavily-sweating boyfriend stood some sixty feet behind her. "Damn it X!" she hollered, her husky shout cutting through the market’s babble. "Why aren’t you keeping up?"

Xander shot her an irritated look. "Because you ran past the shop," the Warrior-God’s avatar nodded to the side. "We’re here."

"Oh," Faith reddened before jogging back. "Sorry." She glanced through the window. "We going in-," her eyes widened as she noticed something about the Oriental youth stood by the counter, "fuck. That’s Tara’s purse!"

* * *

Xander looked towards the teen stood by the counter and then back at his girl-friend. "Are you sure?" he queried doubtfully. His girl-friend always looked amazing but she wasn’t the most fashion-aware woman he’d ever known, although he admitted any woman would have to go some to beat Cordelia.

"Of course I’m sure!" Faith snapped. "I bought her that purse for Christmas!" The Slayer’s eyes widened as the kid opened Tara’s purse and pulled the notes out, slapping them on the counter. After a moment, the shop-keeper took the money . "That’s a fucking pay-off! With Tar’s money!"

"Looks like it," Xander agreed, his own worry turning to a dangerous, slow-burning anger. Seeing the youth turn towards the door, he grabbed hold of Faith and pulled her away from the window. "I’ll follow him, see if he leads us directly to Tara. You go in there and find out what’s happening."

After a second, Faith nodded. "Sounds like a plan, only don’t go all John Wayne on me, k?"

"K," Xander agreed as the shop door opened and the youth hurried out, eyes flickering left and right before starting off down the busy road. After a kiss on his girl-friend’s head, he followed the Oriental into the crowd.

* * *

He rose as his followers carried the girl’s limp body into the dusty warehouse, their entry casting a beam of light across the previously dark chamber. He smiled as he noticed that one of his men was walking with a limp and the other two had battered faces. Clearly this was a girl with some spirit, better and better. "A fighter," he murmured as he brushed her hair off her face, noting the gentle beauty that belied her warrior’s heart. He quickly checked the rag stuffed in her mouth and the rope bindings around her hands and feet.

Finally satisfied she was secured, he pulled a crystal out of his robes and pressed it to the girl’s chest. His smile widened when the crystal began to glow a bright blue, the intensity causing him to look away. She was a witch, and a powerful one to judge from the brilliance of the beam. Pulling the crystal away, he watched as the light slowly dim and die before pocketing it, and turning to his waiting followers. "Ready her for the ceremony." She was the seventh needed for the Pentagram of Power. Once the ceremony was completed, her power and the power of the other wiccas would be his.

And then the world would tremble before Fu Manchu.

FIC: MC 19 April ’00 Gangs & Clubs (2/?)

He sighed as he watched the men scurry about outside the warehouse, such a benign, nondescript seeming place for such momentous evil to be going on there. But evil there was, he could sense it, fifty plus years fighting it had left him with an instinct for it.

He shook his head. It always disappointed him the amount of evil there was in the world. There was good too, people who did the right thing, nothing no matter the cost, he knew that of course. But sometimes the malevolence threatened to suffocate him.

Realising the last of the men had rushed inside; he stepped out of his hiding place and hurried towards the building, keeping to the shadows. There might be evil, but as long as there were the precious few who’d stand against it, mankind had a chance. He could do no more than his duty.

* * *

Xander wiped the sweat from his forehead as he hid in the shadows opposite his prey’s destination. Following an Oriental through Chinatown had been problematic to say the least, he stuck out like a sore thumb while his quarry blended in perfectly, but he’d somehow managed it. Of course he’d had the motivation of knowing that Faith would so kick his ass if he lost their possibly only lead to Tara. All he had to do was wait for his girl-friend to phone. "Hurry up, Faith," he muttered.

* * *

Chen looked up as his door bell rang. His eyes narrowed at the occidental beauty who’d entered. She had an edginess that was unusual in his shop, frequented as it was by those who normally exuded inner peace. And so soon after the other occidental, it was rare to have two in a day, much less within the same hour.

Instead of browsing around, the brunette headed straight for him, an unsettling gleam in her eyes. "How can I help you, miss?" Chen asked.

"Ya can start by telling me what the fuck you did to Tara?" the girl growled, her fists clenched and entire body shaking with barely contained fury.

Chen’s heart skipped a beat. The gajin witch from before. "I don’t know what you’re –ah!"

"Wrong answer!" His heart leapt into his mouth when the girl grabbed hold of him by his shirt, lifted him over his counter, and flung him into the far wall, knocking over two sets of shelves on his flight. "Now," the girl started towards him. "Wanna try again?"

Chen stared in disbelief at the girl. How did she, a mere girl, get to be so strong? Gathering his thoughts, he shouted for his boys. "Tao! Fe! Chi! Get her!"

* * *

Faith glanced over her shoulder as three kids around her age or maybe a little older ran out of the back of the shop. "Oh please," she rolled her eyes before snapping out a back heel kick, catching the nearest under his chin, propelling him over the counter and back through the open doorway he’d just come out of.

Spinning around, she ducked beneath a palm strike to slam a fist in her second would-be assailant’s stomach before grabbing the back of his head as he doubled up, and yanking his face down into her upward-swinging knee. The man screamed as his nose broke, splattering blood all over his face. "Don’t be such a baby," Faith scolded as she flung the body away.

The third tried for a heel kick at her head that she swayed away from before hooking his leg in her arm and punched him full in the groin, ignoring his right punch that bounced off her forehead. The man grunted as her punch hit home, his face paling. "Sorry about that," Faith drawled as she kicked the man’s grounded foot away from him. The man flew into a set of shelves, knocking it and him to the ground, wrapping himself into a foetal ball. Noting the second man struggling to his knees, Faith drove her elbow into the back of his head, knocking the man back down. Satisfied her adversaries were all out cold, she turned to her target. "Now look what you did," she looked around. "Your shop got wrecked."

"H..how," stuttered the old man.

Faith grinned at the shop owner’s shock. "Hey, what can I say? I’m a kid of the 80s, I ate my vitamins, said my prayers, just like the Hulkster told me," Faith’s smile died. "Now, my big sis. Talk."

* * *

He stopped as he heard men talking in the corridor just around the corner. Taking a breath, he closed his eyes and allowed his senses to travel around the corner. Finally he opened his eyes, two men, armed, and thirty feet around the corner. Not a problem.

Racing around the corner, he charged the two men at an inhuman speed. Their eyes widening in shock, the men’s hands dipped to their guns stuck in their waist. Before their hands were even at the guns, he was amongst them. His elbow snapped into the right thug’s jaw, knocking him headfirst into the wall.

Even as the first man slid to the ground, he turned his attention to the second. Snatching a hold of the man’s throat, he drove him headfirst into the wall, his head cracking against it like a coconut.

After picking up an unconscious thug by the scruff of his collar in either hand, he looked around. Seeing a near-by closet, he dragged them over to it. Finding it unlocked, he opened and searched through it. Finding some duct tape, he tied and gagged the two unconscious thugs before flinging them into the closet, closing it behind him.

* * *

"Hey."

Xander jumped at the voice. Spinning around, he glared at his smirking girl-friend. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!" he complained.

His girl-friend smirked before snatching his Twinkie out of his hand. "Wouldn’t have been able to sneak up on ya if you’d been paying attention." He moaned when the girl-friend dropped his Twinkie and stomped on it. "Shut up X," Faith said. "You should be thanking me."

"Oh yeah," he queried. "How’s that?"

"Stopped you getting fat," Faith explained. "Fat asses don’t get any of my fineness." His girl-friend’s face turned serious as she looked towards the warehouse. "This the place?"

Realising that as usual his glare was bouncing off his girl-friend’s soft-seeming but in actuality rhino-tough hide, he nodded. "The shop-keeper say anything?"

The brunette Bostonian shook her head. "Not really. Just that this place was where they’re holding Tar and that the local crime lord has been kidnapping witches for weeks."

"But not why?"

"Why doesn’t matter," Faith replied, her eyes still fixed on the warehouse. "Only that the fucker took my sis."

"Time to show him the error of his ways?" Xander suggested.

"Good plan," Faith replied.

* * *

Fu Manchu looked around as he entered the warehouse’s darkened cellar. After a second, he nodded in satisfaction. On the cellar’s dusty floor, a seven-pointed star had been painted in the blood of the first witch he’d kidnapped. On six of the points stood all but one of the bikinied witches he’d kidnapped, the magic of the pentagram holding them in thrall. He smiled as his henchmen brought out the last and most recently captured of the witches, the gajiin, and placed her at the last remaining point. The moment the Witch’s feet touched the blood, the defiance in her eyes died and her naked shoulders slumped .Finally satisfied that everything was ready, he moved to the centre of the pentagram, gripping ‘The Lodestone’ to him. He looked around, signalling to his henchmen to leave him. Once the door had closed behind them he began to chant, the hard-learnt arcane tongue spilling from his mouth. Soon the air began glow and swirl, forming a typhoon above his head.

His laughter echoed around the otherwise silent room as he felt the witches’ power enter him. Soon, the world would be his.

* * *

His eyes widened as he sensed the evil that his instincts had brought him here to battle begin to intensify. He scowled at the sound of men approaching his position. "Time to do battle," he muttered. Despite his skills, he abhorred violence but accepted its use in his duties. He reached out with his senses to ascertain what and where the evil was.

"Hey, asshole," he spun around to face a striking brunette with burning eyes and a stern-faced male, "what the hell did you pricks do with big sis?"

He looked at the brunette, noting not only her beauty but the aura around her, she was different he realised, not unlike himself, but not evil. And her companion, there was power there too. He smiled placatingly. "My dear, I assure you-."

The teen’s face hardened still further. "Assure this!" The brunette’s left heel flew towards his face.

FIC: MC 19 April ’00 Gangs & Clubs (3/?)

Faith gaped as the tall Oriental somehow swayed away from her attack, knocked her grounded leg from underneath her, knocking her down onto her shoulder, while at the same time somehow upending Xand, sending him likewise crashing to the floor. The man stepped back, amusement crinkling his eyes. "You have considerable talent and power, dear," the robed man commented, "but emotion clouds your judgment."

Faith blinked. Now the asshole was giving her tips? She leapt to her feet. "Try-," her voice trailed off as the man spun away from her and to the corner behind him, his elbow snapping backwards into the empty air.

Empty air that was suddenly filled by the face of a sword-wielding Oriental. The point of the elbow caught the man under his chin, lifting the man off the ground, propelling him into the wall behind.

"My dear," the man spun around, knocked a blade of another attacker away with the flat of his hand before palm-striking his rival in the chest. The man flew into the air, going head over heels and smashing against the ceiling before plummeting to the ground. "If you have frustrations to work out, your and your companion’s assistance would be appreciated."

Faith glanced towards Xander for guidance. Her boyfriend shrugged as he stood. "It looks like he’s not exactly welcome here, like us. Might as well help him for now."

"Makes sense," Faith agreed. Pulling her head down beneath a sword slash, she snatched her hands up, grabbed her assailant’s wrist and twisted against the grain. The swordsman screamed as his wrist snapped like a twig, only for his howling to turn to a groan when she kicked him full in the balls.

* * *

"Glad you approve," Xander muttered. He sidestepped a swordsman’s charge, kicking out to catch his adversary’s right knee on the outside. The man stumbled onto his left backfist. Blood splattered out of the man’s face, hitting the wall a half-second before he smashed into it.

Before the Oriental thug had chance to recover, Xander drove a fist into the man’s kidneys. The man whimpered and groaned. Seeing another swordsman charging him, he grabbed the swordsman crumpled against the wall by his shoulders and pulled him in front of him.

His attacker’s eyes widened in horror as his sword plunged into his fellow Oriental’s stomach. Before the man had time to react, Xander stepped around the impaled man and side-kicked the swordsman in the face. The swordsman lost his grip on his sword and fell shoulder-first into the wall. Instantly the man was up. Face contorted in rage, he leapt at Xander over the body of his slain companion. Xander responded with an elbow to the man’s throat, doubling him up and making him easy prey to a karate chop to the neck. Xander looked around, mouth dropping open at what he saw.

Faith had taken down five swordsmen, which of course was no surprise to him. But the stranger had taken down seven of their number and even now was stood smiling at them, a look of unshakeable confidence on his face. "Thank you for your help," the man’s smile widened, something that Xander was sure would irritate Faith no end, "without your assistance they might have been difficult."

"Difficult!" Faith’s nostrils flared. "Who the fuck are you!" Xander rolled his eyes, great; irritate the man who just single-handedly took seven swordsmen down. "Welcome to the diplomatic corps, Faith."

* * *

"Aieeee!" Fu Manchu screamed as the power of the witches filled him, his body burning with their knowledge and ability. Soon, he would no longer merely be the most influential criminal in the Orient, but the world’s unquestioned ruler.

The death of these seven witches and the one whose blood he’d used to paint this pentagram were unimportant next to that.

* * *

He continued to smile even as he regarded his two companions. His first instinct had been correct, while the girl was conflicted, filled with turbulent emotions that could be twisted and corrupted, neither of his companions were evil. But their power. The boy was incredible, his skills exceptional for a man twice his age, inhuman for a child of his tender years. And the girl, his eyes narrowed slightly; there was something familiar about her ferocity and abilities.

He smiled as he had it. She was a Slayer. And yet, where was her Watcher? The boy had abilities that any Watcher would envy, but was far too young for the role. Finally he spoke, ignoring the Slayer’s question for one of his own. "Where’s your Watcher?"

The Slayer blinked. "Watcher?" she said in a far too casual tone.

"I knew a Slayer in Mexico in the early 50s, the only person I’ve ever known to combine your power and grace. But I was given to understand Slayers had Watchers."

"Early 50s," the girl shook her head. "You ain’t old enough." The girl looked at the swordsmen. "What the fuck are you?"

He bowed at the girl’s question. "In 1943 my master entrusted me with the secret of an ancient Tibetan scroll that offered its owner unlimited power. In the hands of the wrong person it could turn the world into a hell, so I was given certain powers to ensure that the worst never happened. Your names?"

The girl gaped at him. "Fuck me," she finally breathed.

"And I thought Moon-Child was an unusual name," he commented. "You Americans and your unusual naming conventions."

The youth snorted. "She’s Faith, I’m Xander. You?"

He bowed his head at the boy. "As part of taking on the mantle of the scroll’s guardian, I gave up my name. I assume I was right about you being a Slayer?"

"She is," the boy confirmed.

"And her Watcher?"

"We ran away together when we found out about the Cruictamen," the teen explained.

He nodded, sensing there was more to the story but unwilling to waste valuable time. "And your business here?" he queried as he headed towards the building’s basement.

"Some asshole kidnapped my big sis," Faith explained as she hurried after him.

He chuckled. "That would be a mistake I’m guessing." He stopped as a worrying idea occurred and turned to the brunette. "Your sister would be a Wicca correct?"

Faith glanced up to him. "Yeah," she admitted. "How do ya know that?"

"Two weeks ago, I heard rumours that Fu Manchu, the Orient’s most powerful criminal, had discovered ‘the lodestone’, a powerful artefact capable of allowing him to suck the power from seven witches, to use for his own devices-."

"Kinda like a vampire?" queried the Slayer.

"Not quite, a certain ceremony has to be enacted. But the Witches do die."

"That ain’t gonna happen," Faith declared. "What’s the story behind this lodestone anyhow?"

"Five thousand years ago, a mage in what is now the Orient created the lodestone and began to suck the power from his fellow mages, becoming a terrible tyrant. Finally, one of the first Slayers managed to kill him, but only by taking the lodestone off him. Once the spell is finished, that’s the only way of defeating him."

"Best make sure we get there before then, then." Suddenly the Slayer stopped and looked at him, a speculative gleam in her eyes. "Fifty plus years without getting laid, uh? X," she glanced at her suddenly groaning boy-friend, "can’t go fifty seconds without thinking about sex-."

The young man coloured. "Faith-."

"Don’t interrupt," the brunette retorted, "it’s rude. Well?"

He hid a smile. "Practice."

"You hear that Mr. One-Track Mind?" the Slayer commented. Again, Xander groaned.

His amusement died as they reached a plain grey door. Thick wood and behind it, he could smell the sickening stench of evil. "We’re here," he announced.

"Damn, you’ve got a nose like Lassie," Faith commented before turning serious. "Allow me!" The brunette’s heeled boot smashed into the door, flinging it off its hinges. "X, honey, my sword," his eyes widened slightly when the youth pulled a sword seemingly out of mid-air before passing it to the girl and likewise pulling out a double-bladed axe. Of all the people he’d encountered during his unusual life, these were definitely the strangest. He had to find out more. " Thanks hon. Let’s rock ‘n’ roll."

* * *

Fu Manchu was pulled away from the ecstasy of the power pulsating through by the sound of wood splintering. Looking up, he saw the door flying off its hinges, revealing a middle-aged man stood in the doorway, flanked by a pretty brunette, worthy of his harem, and a strong looking teen. He smiled at the intrusion. Time to test his new powers. "Karlez, Vonara, Wezala!" His voice boomed out around the chamber.

Soon, a trio of swirling vortexes appeared at the bottom of the stairwell, before dissipating to reveal a trio of figures clad in Samurai armour. "Oh, yes," he moaned with delight. "Most satisfactory."

FIC: MC 19 April ’00 Gangs & Clubs (4/?)

"Damn," Xander hefted his double-bladed axe when a trio of figures clad in samurai armour materialised at the bottom of the stairwell. "Always complications."

"Big sis."

Xander glanced towards his girl-friend and then followed her gaze to the column of light engulfing a tall, lean Oriental male with wide shoulders, a close-shaven, high-boned face and cold, intelligent green eyes. And surrounding them seven bikinied witches. Including Tara who looked smokin’.

"X," Faith’s drawl interrupted his lechery. "Stop staring at big sis’ ass."

Even as he blushed at his girl-friend’s words, the Monk spoke, his voice terse. "If we don’t interrupt him before the spell is finished, all seven girls are dead."

"We better get down there then," Faith growled before starting forward.

"Wait!" the Monk put his arm across Faith’s chest blocking her way. "Those we face are not merely samurai," he warned. "In 1,000 AD, a mage conquered a small province in Japan. A trio of renowned Samurai went to fight him only for the mage to possess them with a demonic spirit and banish him to hell. Those are the hybrids, called back from hell, crazed by their centuries there."

"Then we’ll be careful," Faith promised before leaping down the steps, landing with knees bent in front of one of the samurais.

"Her careful?" Xander muttered as he ran down the steps. "That’ll be the day!"

Reaching the bottom of the steps, Xander charged towards one of the Japanese warriors, his axe flashing up aiming for the unprotected area under the armpit. Blue sparks flared when the demonic Samurai blocked his attack with his sword before slamming his free fist into Xander’s chest.

He grunted as the blow slammed into him, the incredible power lifting him off his feet and flinging him into the bottom of the steps. Xander winced as his back hit the steps, pain thundering through him. His eyes widened when he saw the demon’s sword arching down at him. "Shit!"

Flinging himself to his left, he hit the floor on his shoulder, and rolled up. Realising he’d dropped his axe; he pulled a broadsword out of the Always Pocket. "For the record," he shuddered as he realised the demon warrior was hissing, "I’ve watched all of Bruce Lee’s films so I kick ass!"

He ducked beneath a sword slash before straightening and smashing the pommel of his sword into the monster’s helmet. He winced as the beast’s face-guard fell off, revealing a grey, serpentine face, three yellow eyes, and a mouth filled with small but disturbingly sharp-looking teeth. "Not won many beauty contests then?" The beast roared before charging him. "No-one gets my humour!"

Xander spun to the side, sword arcing down to slash into the beast’s thick thigh. Black blood vomited out, but the monster seemed unworried. Turning, it thrust its blade at him; Xander knocked the sword downwards before slashing at the monster. Again, his blow struck home, slicing a lump out of the monster’s left shoulder. Again, it seemed unaffected.

"This is getting repetitive," Xander cursed as he slipped on the demon’s blood pooling on the ground. Falling to one knee, he looked up fearfully at the possessed samurai standing over him.

And thrust his blade upwards, deep into the creature’s stomach.

That did get a reaction; the monster threw its head back and screamed in a high-pitched wail. Leaping to his feet, he called another broadsword out of the Always Pocket and beheaded the distracted demon. "Well," he drawled as the decapitated monster fell to the ground, "he wanted to get ahead." He glanced around to see how his companions were doing.

* * *

Faith’s eyes widened as the samurai advanced on her, twin swords slicing through the air. "So out-gunned here," she muttered as she moved to meet the demon with a dancer’s grace, twisting left and right to avoid the flashing blades. Finally she was close enough to deliver an elbow to the demon warrior’s throat, knocking him back a step. Faith moved into a spin-kick, the blow slamming into the Japanese demon’s head, knocking his head to the side.

"Shit!" Faith was forced to lean backwards to avoid a sword-slash at her face. Even as she straightened, she was forced to bend her knees to avoid another sword thrust at her head. "This is getting repetitive."

Parrying one sword to her right, she grabbed the other sword-arm in her left hand, before kicking the samurai full in the nuts. Faith gasped when a forked tongue flew out of her rival’s mouth, lunging at her. Not wanting to risk whatever goodies the demon might have on its tongue, Faith yanked her head to the left, narrowly avoiding the tongue before releasing her grip and back-flipping away from the demon.

Seeing the demon charge her, Faith hefted her sword and flung it like a spear at the monster’s head. The samurai’s sword flashed up to parry the blow, but too late, the point of the blade imbedded itself full in its face, black blood flying. The monster screamed but didn’t fall.

But it did drop its swords. Charging forward, Faith scooped one weapon up before it hit the ground and quickly beheaded the demon.

* * *

Facing his opponent, he knocked aside a sword-slash with the flat of his hand before driving his other palm into the demon’s chin, snapping its head back. Stepping forward, he leapt into a dropkick, both heels cannoning into the demon’s chest, knocking it onto its back.

Before he had chance to take advantage of the demon’s distress, the monster leapt back up and slashed at his throat, attempting for a decapitation. Hand lunging out, he grabbed the demon’s wrist, and twisted. The demon just grunted before smashing his other fist into his face.

Pain exploding in his face, he stumbled backwards, claret dripping from his mouth. His eyes widened as he saw the demon’s blade flashing towards him. Dropping into a crouch, he allowed the blade to fly over his head before reaching up, taking the flat of the blade between his palms and twisting.

His manoeuvre yanked the blade from the Japanese warrior’s grip, sending the weapon spinning through the air. Reaching up, he snatched a hold of a sword by its hilt, leapt up, and sent the blade flashing through the demon’s neck.

* * *

Fu Manchu ground his teeth together as the last of his warriors fell. It wasn’t meant to go like this. Raising his hand, he fired an energy bolt at the nearest intruder. The yellow bolt slammed into the young man’s chest. He bellowed in agony before flying head over heels into the steps and crashing to the ground. Smiling, he turned his attention to the young man’s companions.

* * *

Faith’s heart leapt into her mouth at Xander’s yell, the smell of his burning flesh making her stomach somersault. "Bastard!" she screamed before charging forward. The criminal laughed before raising his hand and shooting a bolt at her. Faith cart wheeled out of the way. "Have to do better than that, asshole!"

"How about this!"

Faith dropped to her knees when a bolt blasted towards her, just flying over her head, the blast scorching the wall behind. Leaping back up, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the criminal sorcerer shoot a succession of bolts at the Monk. The Monk managed to dart out of the first three before getting caught on the shoulder by the forth. Spinning around, the Monk hit the floor.

The sorcerer turned his gaze on her, the ferocity in his eyes frightening even for a Slayer. "It seems there are just the two of us, sweet girl."

Swallowing her fear, Faith nodded. "Seems that way," she growled.

The sorcerer’s smile widened. "It does not need to end this way, I’m sure I could find a place for such a delectable beauty as yourself in my harem."

"You want me to fuck you?" She tilted her head to one side and extended one finger. "How about you go fuck yourself?"

The warlock chuckled even as his eyes chilled. "As you wish."

Another energy ball flew at her. Faith dived to the right, craning her neck to look at the sorcerer as she did so, and flinging her sword at the criminal. Even as she hit the ground on her shoulder and allowed the momentum to carry her on in a sideways roll, she watched her makeshift projectile’s flight.

* * *

The criminal laughed as the girl’s weapon flashed past him. "Missed!" he gloated. Seeing her lying on the ground, weaponless, wide eyes staring at him, he readied another energy bolt. "You should have taken my offer," he muttered.

FIC: MC 19 April ’00 Gangs & Clubs (5/?)

The criminal laughed as the girl’s weapon flashed past him. "Missed!" he gloated. Seeing her lying on the ground, weaponless, wide eyes staring at him, he readied another energy bolt. "You should have taken my offer," he muttered.

* * *

"Miss?" Faith smirked from her position on the ground. "I never miss."

The sorcerer’s eyes bulged when the energy coursing through him backfired, engulfing him in a ball of fire. Faith winced at the convulsing criminal’s screams even as the girls stuck on the pentagram points fell, the spell enthralling them broken. Lunging forward, she caught Tara as her sis plunged to the ground. "Hey Tar," she winked at her big sis, relieved to see the intelligence returning to the witch’s eyes. "You’re falling? In that bikini I could almost fall for you, you hot, buxom lesbian witch."

Her laughter at Tara’s discomfort dissipated at X’s groan. "Fuck," she muttered, glancing across the cavernous basement to the burn on her baby’s chest. "Tar," her gaze returned to the witch, "you strong enough to do some healing mojo?"

The honey blonde glanced momentarily from left to right, clearly confused as to her surroundings, before looking towards Xander. "S….sure, can I lean against you, my legs are sort of weak?"

"Wearing that honey," Faith wrapped a supportive arm around big sis’ bare shoulders, "you sure can."

Her good humour evaporated as they reached Xander slouched on the steps. The smell of burning flesh made her stomach clench and she had to fight back vomit at the terrible scorch mark on her babe’s right pec. But as bad as she felt, X looked a shit load worse, sweat pouring down his drawn face and his breath coming in pained pants. Tara moved forward and knelt in front of X, the witch’s hands lightly massaging Xander’s chest, muttering soft words under her breath.

Faith relaxed as Tara’s healing hands got to work, the scorch mark slowly shrinking. "Xander," Faith scolded as she lounged against the wall, watching Tar heal her honey, "stop looking down big sis’ bikini. I mean I know there ain’t much material, but still, give the girl some privacy."

She laughed when both predictably blushed. Oh, this was wicked fun.

"The other girls appear to be disorientated but otherwise alright." Faith glanced towards the Monk. Her eyes widened as she saw that the burn-mark in the Monk’s side was healing on itself. "Perhaps we should get them home?"

"Yeah," she said shakily. The guy had serious mojo. Shaking her head, she turned back to her boy-friend. "You feeling better, hon?"

Her boyfriend nodded weakly before standing, helped up by Tara. "Cool move with your sword."

Faith grinned at the praise. "Yeah." She nodded. "I figured the wizard might have magical protection from a direct attack, so I removed his magic. At worst, his magic would be gone and he’d just be a normal guy, easy meat. At best, the spell would back-fire and he’d barbecue his sad ass."

"Well," Xander smiled at her, "it worked. Well done."

"Hey X," she bumped her boy-friend’s hip. "Get Tar some clothes. The Monk’s vow of celibacy is coming under serious threat from her hotness."

"S..scared of the competition?" demanded Tara.

Faith grinned at her sis’ retort. "Hell no," she slowly licked her lips, "scared of the temptation." She laughed again when her sister blushed again.

"Okay," Xander pulled a sweatshirt and pair of jeans out of the Always Pocket which he passed to Tara who eagerly began to dress. "Uh," Xander looked at the other nubile witches. "Can I leave them like that?"

Faith slapped the back of Xander’s head. "It’s only funny when I’m joking about it," she scolded. "Give them clothes or sleep on the couch tonight."

Xander’s sigh had a note of longing to it. "Clothes it is then."

"Smart move," she approved. The Monk chortled.

* * *

Faith waited until Xander and the Monk were busy organising the witches before whispering to her sister on a far more serious matter than her previous teasing. "The Monk, he on the level?"

"His aura…"

Faith glanced at her sis, worry growing at the blonde’s glazed expression. "What’s wrong with his aura?" she demanded. And she’d left X with him, damn it.

After a second Tara shook her head. "Nothing," she replied in a whisper. "I’ve never seen an aura so perfect.."

"Okay," Faith cast a sideways glance at her mesmerised sis. "Guess he’s really on the level then."

* * *

The Monk turned to his companions as the last of the witches exited their stolen van and stumbled dazedly into the near-by police station. "Shall we go for a celebratory meal? My treat," he added with a smile.

"I’m always in for a free feed!" exclaimed Xander.

"Is he ever," muttered the young man’s girl-friend before playfully elbowing her boy-friend in the side. "Sure, why not?"

"Excellent," the Monk’s smile widened. He savoured such moments as these, time after a battle to bask in another victory won, and this moment would be even more special, the opportunity to spend some time with some quite extraordinary young people. "If you’ll follow me."

* * *

The Monk smiled as he entered a traditional Chinese restaurant. "This place has good energy," he finally announced.

"And the first four places didn’t?" he heard his raven-haired companion’s muttered comment. "My belly is growling!"

"I know," he glanced to the lithe Slayer and stared pointedly at the offending body part. "I can hear it."

Faith glanced down then up at him, a reluctant smile parting her lips. "You ain’t like usual monks."

"That I am not," he smiled at his companions. "Please sit down. I’ll order." Turning to a hovering waitress, he rattled off an order in Cantonese. The waitress bowed before going out.

"E..excuse me sir," it was ‘Big Sis’, the girl by the name of Tara. "Who are you?" He repeated in more detail what he’d told Xander and Faith in the warehouse. His recital accompanied by the duo’s ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ while the Witch remained silent, her eyes fixed searchingly on him. He’d barely finished when the waitress returned with the food. Even as she turned to leave, the Witch spoke. "It must be hard."

He smiled at the young woman’s perception. Most only saw the power and not the pitfalls. "Hard, but rewarding. Before I was chosen, I was a thief heading for an early and senseless grave. Since then, I have received the chance to help people, to visit places and see sights that I never dreamed of. And meet amazing people like you."

"Shit, your life is in the crapper if meeting X is an upside," Faith muttered.

The monk chuckled at the raven-haired beauty’s comment before turning to the comically-outraged teen sat beside her. "And what is your story, Xander?" he softly queried.

The Monk resisted the urge to shake his head as Xander finished talking. A Watcherless Slayer and an aura-reading witch. He’d have lain good money, if his religion allowed him to do so, that nothing could beat that.

And yet, Xander had. The apparently happy-go-lucky youth was the carrier of a warrior-god’s spirit and memories. It was ridiculous. And yet, also true.

He realised the youth was asking him something and smiled apologetically. "I’m sorry, I missed that."

"Would you," the young man swallowed. "Be interested in running one of my groups for me?"

Ah. There was a conundrum. "I’m sorry Xander," he heard but ignored the Slayer’s outraged gasp. Despite her somewhat caustic comments, it was clear the Slayer cared fiercely for the young man. "Your cause is very worthy. But I have my own mission to complete. It has however been a pleasure meeting the three of you."

He waved to the waiting waitress. In a second, she was by his side. He pulled out his wallet and quickly paid. "Yeah," Faith stood, followed by the others. "Well thanks for your help with big sis. She’s always getting into –owww!" Faith glared at the witch twisting her ear. "Get off!"

He chuckled as his bickering companions left before assuming a more thoughtful expression. Faith was a young woman with tremendous potential, potential damaged, tainted with what she’d had to endure. Xander was a youth with amazing qualities but unfocussed.

But Tara, when he’d first seen the witch he’d been so sure she’d be the successor. But then he’d seen her interact with her friends, seen the underlying sadness in her eyes. He knew that such a person as her would accept out of duty if he made the offer, but he couldn’t take her away from her family.

He’d had no such ties to lose, but Tara…. His life was lonely despite its pluses and he couldn’t condemn a child like her to it. "So close," he whispered before standing and walking out into the night.

A:N: The writer extremely stuffily points out that none of the musical opinions offered by any of the characters mirror his own. Shudders at the thought.

FIC: MC 19 April ’00 Gangs & Clubs (6/?)

Detroit

"Come on you two!" Faith hollered. "Hurry up!"

Xander sighed as he came out of the bathroom to look at the undeniably tempting sight of his girl-friend bouncing up and down on their shared bed, dressed as she was in a pair of skin-tight leathers and a figure-hugging midriff top that emphasised rather than hid his girl-friend’s curvy charms. Which was always a good thing, but kinda distracting when he was trying to argue with her. "Do we have to?"

"Yeah," Faith executed an Olympic-class somersault off the bed to land beside him. "We do, this club is a major place, I heard about it on when I ran from Boston, wanted to go, but couldn’t risk a detour ‘cause of," Faith smiled weakly at him when he squeezed her forearm comfortingly, "well," she shrugged, "you know."

"So what’s so great about this club?"

"Its owner!" Faith exclaimed. "He is fucking A!" His girl-friend’s eyes briefly dazzled him with their sparkle. "See, he was the guitarist of Hangman’s Joke in the early 90s, they were shit-hot, gonna be the new Motley Crue! But then his girl-friend was murdered by this gang and he disappeared. Then in ’98 he turned up again as the owner of the Blackout and turned it into a real rockin’ club!"

Hangman’s Joke? New Motley Crue? The Blackout? Xander’s doubts grew. When they’d arrived in Detroit, he’d been looking forward to visiting the Motown Museum. Instead it sounded as if he was heading out to some mosh club.

Even as he opened his mouth to voice his doubts, Tara walked in from the adjoining room, looking amazing in a leather mini and backless black halter top that Faith had bullied the honey-blonde into buying. "I don’t know Faith. It doesn’t sound all that fun," the witch tremulously commented. He nodded in eager agreement.

Faith snorted. "That’s only cause neither of you know music."

"Hey!" Xander exchanged an out-raged look with Tara. "We know music. I like Garth Brooks!"

"Shania Twain," Tara defended herself with the name of one of Canada’s foremost singer\songwriters.

"That don’t impress me much. You only like her ‘cause you think she’s hot!" Faith smirked at Tara’s confirming blush. "I rest my case." His girl-friend laughed. "Fuck, I do a shit-load of charity work hanging with you two. My coolness rating is taking a serious hit hanging with ya both-." The Slayer laughed again before darting to the door only to be grabbed by him and Tara, wrestled to the ground and tickled mercilessly. "I’m sorry," she gasped. "I’m sorry." He and Tara exchanged looks before releasing their grip on the Slayer. Faith leapt to her feet and smirked. "I’m sorry you’re a pair of sorry-asses."

* * *

"Come on!" Xander rolled his eyes as his girl-friend dragged he and Tara past the bouncers by the door and into the club, the attractiveness of his two companions allowing them to jump the queue.

A wave of heat hit him as they entered the club. The club was bathed in an inky darkness, flashing lights of red, white, and blue occasionally illuminated it, spotlighting the wildly-dancing, long-haired youths of both sexes packing the dance floor. The building’s walls shook to the music blasted through the night-spot’s strategically placed speakers and the establishment’s poor ventilation meant the stale air was filled with a sickly mixture of sweat and alcohol. In between the dance floor and the entrance stood the grimy wooden bar. The bar was staffed by buxom girls dressed in spandex shorts and crop tops straining both to stay in their skimpy outfits and to keep pace with the increasingly strident demands for service from the throng at the other side of the side of the bar. At the opposite side of the foyer there stood a winding stairwell that led up to the 1st floor drinking area.

"Wow, this place is really jumping!" Faith jumped up, punching the air.

"Yeah, and so are the fleas," Tara muttered in his ear as she disdainfully stared around the packed club.

Despite him barely hearing the murmur, Faith’s hearing ensured that she picked it up. Spinning around, his girl-friend walked purposefully over to them. "Oh shit," he muttered, "trapped."

"Come on ya two," Faith grabbed their wrists and dragged them into the club. "Time to dance!"

Xander sighed. "We might as well give in," he shouted to Tara. It seemed easier just to go along with her.

Suddenly Faith’s eyes lit up. "Wow! There’s the owner!" his girl-friend pointed upwards to the balcony overhead. "Yo Eric!" she shouted, reaching for her top.

"Don’t flash," Xander covered his eyes as Faith ignored his plea. "There you go."

"Like the puppies!" Faith screamed over the music.

"I’m not complaining," Tara muttered, her gaze fixed on his girl-friend’s bra as Faith pulled her shirt back down.

"I’m in hell."

* * *

"How’s business going tonight?"

Johnson looked up as his boss, the club owner, entered, drink in hand. He waited until his boss had closed the soundproofed door behind him, cutting out the club’s pounding band and screaming dancers, before answering. "Full house again, sir."

His boss, a medium height, lithely muscled, dark-haired Asian, shot him an irritated look. "I told you," he reproved, "we’re informal around here, no sir."

"Sorry si-," he changed what he’d been about to say at his boss’ glare. "Sorry."

His boss chuckled. "You’re new, you’ll learn how we work things here." The Asian took a sip of his drink, a blood-red wine, before continuing. "Any trouble tonight."

"No," he replied. Not that he was surprised. He’d only been working here a month, but on his third night a quartet of would-be extorters had turned up at the club. Four men, hulking thugs with a life of violence behind them. And yet his boss had torn through them like they were nothing. Johnson smiled to himself, no wonder he had trouble referring to his boss as anything other than ‘sir’.

"Great," the night-club owner nodded before scowling. "We’ve got some VIPs in tonight, so I’ll have to circulate, you’ve got my beeper if there’s any problems, okay?" he nodded. "Great, see you later."

* * *

Jennifer giggled as the club’s side doors crashed open, the fresh air welcome after the club’s stifling heat, the music of Tortured Head still pounding in her ears. She threw back her hair before looking at her companion, raising a challenging eyebrow as she slouched against the wall, looking the medium height, wiry darkly handsome Asiatic up and down. "What exactly," she grinned, "did you have to show me that was so important."

"This." Her eyes widened when the handsome party-goer’s face changed into something terrible. The monster tilted his head to one side and smiled mockingly. "Do you like it?"

Finally she found her tongue. "HELPPP!"

In an instant, the demon had a hand around her neck, slamming the back of her head into the wall before flinging her to the unyielding ground. Dazed, she was helpless to prevent the demon kneeling on top of her, pinning her to the ground. "Ah Jennifer," she moaned when the monster backhanded her across the face. "You look good enough to eat." She felt her bladder loosen when the demon opened its mouth, revealing glinting fangs. "In fact, I think I will."

She screamed but the sound was muffled by the thundering music blasted from the club, the tunes she’d so recently been enjoying condemning her to an agonising death.

* * *

"Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five," Faith completed her sixth set of one armed chin-ups, using the top of the hotel door frame, before switching arms and smoothly continuing, a slight sheen of sweat covering her body.

Last night had been a wicked buzz, she smiled to herself. Going to The Blackout had been fucking amazing. She chuckled, she knew she teased X and Tar unmercifully, but it was only ‘cause she trusted them, they were family, she could let her guard down, let them inside.

"And breaking news from WDTW," Faith glanced with irritation at the radio she’d been listening to, her workout soundtrack of classic rock interrupted by the mundane world. "A body has been discovered outside popular local club, The Blackout," Faith dropped to the floor and stared at the radio, "no details have been released as regards to the victim’s identity, but it has been said that the victim has had their throat torn-."

"Xan! Tar!" Faith shouted as she quickly undressed and pulled on her jeans and blouse. "We got trouble!"

FIC: MC 19 April ’00 Gangs & Clubs (7/10)

Xander grinned at Tara’s growing smile. Judging time was ready for his punch line, he continued. "And I said -."

"Xan! Tar! We got trouble!"

Xander jumped to his feet, heart thumping at Faith’s yell. He rushed to the adjoining door, Tara hurrying behind him. Flinging the door open, he hurried into their room, ready for whatever terrors awaited him.

And found Faith sat on the side of their bed, pulling her cowboy boots on. "What was the bellow about?" he demanded. "We thought you were in trouble!"

"Me?" Faith shook her head. "Nah, I heard a news report on the radio. There was a murder outside the club we were at last night. We need to go check it out."

Xander exchanged a look with Tara before speaking. "Faith, what’s the point? The cops will be there."

"Point is," Faith’s eyes filled with pain. "I was there, and I didn’t save her. I was partying while some girl was dying!"

"Honey." After a glance at him, Tara stepped towards the Slayer. "You can’t be responsible for some sicko beating his date to death or a drugs deal going wrong."

"No," Faith shook her head. "You don’t understand. The report said her throat had been torn out."

Again Tara and him exchanged glances. "Damn," Xander sighed. "We best set off then." He glared suspiciously at his girl-friend as a nasty thought occurred. "This is just an excuse of getting out of going to the Motown Museum," he accused.

"Nah," Faith shook her head. "Lucky coincidence. Now move it!"

"Yes dear," he groaned.

* * *

Eric watched the cop crouch over the corpse, the African-American’s normally dark skin taking on a greyish pallor as he examined the body. The powerfully-built detective looked up at him. "You recognise her?"

He examined the lithe blonde lying on the alley ground, searching his memory for her name. Finally he had it. "She’s a regular, name of Jennifer. Other than that," he shrugged. "Sorry."

Darryl nodded. "And," the cop looked around, dropping his voice so that the near-by white-suited forensics wouldn’t hear him, "you get anything from around here?"

Eric shrugged. "Nothing that makes sense."

"Enough to make an ID?" his friend pressed. "This is the fourth. We need to find out what’s causing this!"

"Don’t you think I know that?" Eric replied, his even tone masking his own fury. "If I had anything I’d share, believe me. But what I see," he shook his head, "it doesn’t make sense."

"Fine," the cop who’d shared as his liaison for years took a breath. "Then tell me what you do see?"

"Something with a fanged mouth, ridged forehead, and yellow eyes."

His friend rose, eyes turning stony. "This isn’t a joking matter, damn it!" he hissed as he glared at him. "We’ve many to keep this out of the press so far, but it’s only a matter of time!"

"I’m not joking," Eric replied, keeping his own temper under control. "Maybe she," he glanced down at the corpse, "was high or had some mental illness that made her hallucinate."

"You saw the same thing at the other two sites I took you to," the detective snapped. "That’s just a little too coincidental."

* * *

"Oh whoa."

Faith glanced away from the road and over her shoulder to the honey-blonde sat working her laptop on the back seat. "What’s the sitch, big sis?"

"I’ve just been checking for information on The Blackout," Tara glanced up at her before returning her attention to the laptop screen.

"And?" Xander didn’t look away from the road as he drove towards the club in question.

"And it’s the fourth death in three weeks with the same MO relating to the club," Tara said.

"Say what!" this time Xander did briefly glance over his shoulder at Tara.

"Keep your eyes on the road, hon." Faith remonstrated. And people called her a dangerous driver. "What’s the sitch, sis?"

"Twenty-three days ago, the coat-check girl at the Blackout went missing, turning up three days later stuffed behind a dumpster with her neck torn out. Eighteen days ago, a body was found two streets away, throat torn out. Ten days ago, a club regular was found at her home, throat torn out. She’d been at the club the previous night. And this girl was found by the back door, throat torn out."

"Faith."

Faith glanced towards her boyfriend, noting his worried look, she spoke. "What’s up, hon?"

"You said this club-owner disappeared for a few years?" Xander asked.

Faith’s brow furrowed in confusion. "Yeah, so?"

"So, what if his girl-friend wasn’t killed by a gang of thugs but by a vampire, and he was turned?"

Faith sat back, floored by Xander’s suggestion. "Well, damn." She thought about it for a few seconds before shaking her head. "Nah, he’s been in charge of The Blackout for like three years, this has been happening for what a month?"

"Maybe there’s been murders before that, it’s just that no-one’s noticed it before," Xander suggested.

"Sis?"

For a few seconds, Faith heard the sound of Tara’s fingers clicking at the keyboard. Then the witch spoke. "No, there’s nothing. The usual demon related deaths, crime." Tara paused. "This is strange."

"What’s strange, Tara?" Xander put in before she had chance.

"Up until the recent deaths, there’s been very little crime in the area around the club."

"Huh, huh."

"Huh, huh." Faith glanced at Xander. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Either this club owner’s been offed by a stronger demon who’s more indiscreet. Or the vampire’s gotten cocky, figures he’s untouchable."

"Fuck," Faith scoffed. "You’re reaching."

"We’ll find out in a minute," Xander replied as the 4*4 slowed up. "We’re at the club."

"Wicked," Faith jumped out the moment the car halted. She looked up at the building, briefly surprised by the lack of sound coming from the previously booming club and the dullness of its previously flashing neon sign above its wide doors. Shaking it off, she turned to her sis and boy-friend. "How we gonna do it?"

"Uh," Xander’s face dropped as he glanced towards the alleyway beside the club. "I was wrong, he’s no vampire. That’s the club owner, right in the middle of the day."

"Yeah it is," Faith felt her hackles rise and skin prickle uneasily. "But he’s not human either. Let’s move."

* * *

Eric looked away from his friend, something tugging at his consciousness. "What’s up?" Darryl queried.

"I don’t know," he replied. "Something different. Unnatural."

"You can talk." Turning, he saw himself being regarded by a trio of kids, two beautiful girls and a tough-looking youth, maybe fifteen years his junior. "I mean," continued the speaker, a curvy brunette. "Death just seems to follow you around, doesn’t it?"

While the leather-clad girl was speaking, the other girl swallowed, her jaw dropped open, and she paled. "Faith-."

"No, Tar," the brunette continued to glare at him, the intensity in the raven-haired teen’s eyes almost making him take a back-step. "I thought Xan was wrong, but I can smell it on him. He’s not human."

"No." He blinked when the honey-blonde stepped between him and the brunette, as if protecting him. "He’s not. He’s a Crow."

FIC: MC 19 April ’00 Gangs & Clubs (8/10)

Eric shot Darryl a confused look. A Crow? Who were these crazy kids? More to the point, how did they know what he was? Before he could speak, Darryl put in a defensive bluff. "Look kids, this is a homicide scene. This Crow gang-activity you’re into doesn’t interest me. Just get out of here before I arrest you."

* * *

Faith allowed the cop’s words to pass over her, her gaze not shifting from the nightclub owner. "Crow? What’s a Crow, Tara?"

"A…a Crow," Tara’s familiar stutter returned under stress. "P…people once believed that when someone died, a Crow would carry their soul to the land of the dead, but sometimes something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can’t rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the Crow will bring the soul back and put the wrong things right."

"Vampires, Slayers, demons, witches, warrior-gods, mutants, ancient weapons, and now Crows. Makes me nostalgic for the days when all I had to worry about were Tony’s hangovers."

Faith ignored Xander’s mutter to continue to stare at the nightclub owner, he was, she realised, a good-looking stud, nice body too. The black cop, she could smell it on him, wasn’t bad either. But still a cop. "So what are these Crows? What can they do?"

"Uh," Tara paused for a second in thought. "Legend says they’re stronger, faster, and more agile than humans. They feel no pain and heal wounds in seconds. They also have psychometric abilities."

"Psycho what?" Faith asked.

"Powers allowing them to feel emotions from past experience by touching objects in an area," Tara explained.

"Yeah," she nodded sagely. "That’s what I thought you meant." Faith swallowed, that was a hell of a package. "Good guy or bad guy?"

"Good guy."

"Thank fuck for that," Faith muttered before summonsing up a smile to beam at the increasingly bemused looking former musician and now supernatural being, and his friend. "Eric Draven! I was a big fan," her voice faltered, "before you um died."

"Oh subtle, Faith, very subtle." Faith heard Xander slap his forehead. "Look," her boyfriend said, "can we look at the corpse?" Without waiting for an answer, her boyfriend stepped forward and crouched by the body. "Yep," Xander pulled the corpse’s collar aside. "She was killed by a vampire."

"A vampire!"

Faith ignored the cop’s shout. "Turned X?"

"No blood in her mouth."

"Cool." Faith beamed at the nightclub owner as something occurred. "Say, can I have an autograph?"

* * *

"Right," Eric ushered the three teens and an increasingly confused and angry Albrecht into his office. "What’s this rubbish about vampires?"

"R..rubbish?" challenged the honey blonde. "What did you see when you sensed that girl’s murder?"

Draven stared at the girl. "Just how did you know I was the Crow?" he growled.

"Hey!" the amusement left the brunette’s face. "You take the bass out of your voice when you speak to Tara, otherwise I’ll rip your fucking head off, see how you heal that!"

"It’s alright Faith," the girl called Tara smiled at the glaring brunette before looking towards him. "I read auras," the girl explained. "Most people’s auras are filled with differing colours. Demons and vampires don’t have auras. Your aura is filled with crows. What did you see?"

"I saw a man with yellow eyes and fangs," his voice trailed off. Which sounded a lot like a vampire. If he didn’t think it was impossible for the dead to develop a headache, he’d think he was getting one. "What are you?"

"I’m a Slayer," Faith proclaimed proudly. "The one girl in the world meant to battle vampires. Tara’s a witch. And Xan," the brunette shot the boy a fond look, "is the avatar of a warrior-god."

Draven groaned. Yep, the impossible had happened, he’d developed a headache.

A really, really bad one.

* * *

"Question is," Xander put in after they’d finished the introductions, "why’s this vampire turned up here now?"

Draven stared at him, the man’s eyes unsettling. "What do you mean?"

"A few weeks ago," Xander glanced down at the records Tara had printed out, anything to escape the Crow’s impaling eyes, "two months in fact, there was less crime in the blocks surrounding the Blackout than the city average. A lot less." He looked up again. "What changed?"

"Two months?" Draven pursed his lips together in thought. After a few seconds the supernatural being spoke. "Two months ago, a guy turned up here, demanding extortion money. I threw him out. He returned with a friend. I threw them out. A month later, he returned with three companions. I threw them out. First murder was just a few days afterwards."

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Albrecht demanded, his eyes angry.

The Crow shrugged. "Didn’t think it was important. I dealt with the problem."

The cop looked up at the ceiling. "He didn’t think it was important," he muttered.

"Maybe whoever they are they’re trying to drive you out of business?" Faith suggested. "Maybe they hired some vamps to give the club a bad rep so no-one would come? Get ya to sell out, then muscle in on whoever takes your place."

"Makes sense Faith, well done," Xander praised before turning his attention back to the club owner. "Who was this guy?"

He was disappointed when Draven slowly shook his head. "I don’t know," the Crow admitted. "I never got their names."

The cop sighed. "His name is Primo Dante," the thickly-built African-American shrugged. "At least I think it is. He runs the mob’s extortion racket in the state so he’s probably behind it. He’s a nasty little asshole, we think he’s behind at least six murders, been in the mob three decades, considered an upcoming young turk. A real piece of work, but we’ve never pinned anything on him."

"Sounds like we have a winner." Xander said. "I say we boost this guy, see who he’s hired and where they hang out?"

"I’m not hearing this," Albrecht muttered.

The Crow nodded. "Sounds like a plan." Draven turned to the detective. "You got an address?"

After a second, the cop nodded. "Sure. Why not? Another charge to add to my trial."

"Hey man, don’t worry so much, adds lines." Faith counselled.

The detective glared at Faith and shook his head.

* * *

Draven stared through the inky darkness, shrouded in the evening shadows, the cold that had his three companions shivering not affecting him. "Pardon?" he heard the Slayer ask him another question about Hangman’s Joke, a life he’d thought he’d left far behind. Truth was he didn’t like to think about those days, about being happy.

About Shelley.

Forcing away the pain tightening his chest, he stared at the apartment block opposite, the address where Darryl said Primo Dante lived. His eyes narrowed when a short, fat man walked out of the apartment block’s glass door entrance, flanked by a trio of hulking monoliths and quickly entered a Cadillac parked out front. That looked like the target. "He’s leaving," he growled to his companions. "I’ll go and get him."

* * *

"B..but-," Faith’s voice trailed off as the Crow ran off at a speed that not even she could match. "Fuck. Why didn’t he wait?"

"Annoying when someone just runs off like that, huh?"

Faith chose to ignore Xander’s smug look. Otherwise she’d have to fight the urge to slap it off.

FIC: MC 19 April ’00 Gangs & Clubs (9/10)

Primo Dante smirked as he climbed into the back of his limousine. Life was good, no, great, he smugly corrected. It was thirty years this year since his first foray into crime, a knifing of another, bigger fourteen year old, a crime he hadn’t been arrested for. Since then he hadn’t looked back, in less than two years he’d been running an extortion racket at his school, cowing much older boys with his easy use of violence. He’s largely avoided the jailhouse, had been arrested and charged a few times, but usually evidence had been contaminated or witnesses bribed, intimidated, or killed.

And now, he was at the apex of Michigan crime, an underboss of the local family.

True, it wasn’t a major family like New York, Boston, or Chicago, but it was more than ample. Enough to get him the riches, fast women, and fast cars he craved. And, he smiled to himself. The drugs he wanted.

He threw back his head and hissed as the coke he’d taken just before leaving his plush apartment hit his system, giving him an euphoric unequalled rush. Using drugs rather than just selling them was strictly against family rules, but he didn’t care, he was indestructible. His brow furrowed at the sound of something thumping onto the roof of the car. He looked up in shock. "What the hell!"

He screamed as the roof was ripped off the car like a lid being torn off a can. He briefly saw the face of what looked like an insane mime grinning down at him. Then the figure reached into the car, snatched a hold of the driver and bodyguard in the front under their chins, lifted, and threw the wildly struggling men out of the vehicle.

Primo screamed again as the now driverless car veered wildly across the road. The monster grinned again before grabbing hold of the bodyguard sat beside him and flinging the thickly-muscled thug into the side of the car, taking the door off and sending him crashing into the road. Heart racing, he reached into his pocket for the gun secured there. "OOOW!" his eyes watered when the freak grabbed his wrist and squeezed, shattering the bone with his incredible power. The creature smiled at him before slamming a fist into his head, causing his head to snap into the back of the car. Then the monster gripped his jacket lapels and dragged him out of the car.

* * *

Faith’s mouth dropped open as the Crow peeled the roof off Dante’s limo, threw his bodyguards out, and jumped out carrying the mobster. "Y…you saw that, right?" Realising a gaping Xander hadn’t answered her, she nipped his arm. "You saw that, right?"

"Ouch!" Xander rubbed his arm. "I saw tha-." His voice trailed off as the car crashed into a wall, exploding into fire.

In seconds, the Crow was beside them, the crumpled mobster stuffed under his arm. "Follow me," the supernatural being ordered.

"Y..you can’t just leave them," said a bulging-eyed Tara, her eyes fixed on the three bodies lying in heaps on the tarmac.

Draven didn’t even look in the bodies’ direction. "They’re all murderers. Come on."

* * *

Dante’s eyes shot open. He stared blearily around his surroundings, a small nondescript boarding house room, giving him no clue as to where he was. Seeing the slender man leaning against the opposite wall, a smirk on his face, he blustered. "You don’t know who you’re fucking with!"

The Asian just laughed. "I could say the exact same thing." His captor’s eyes hardened. "Who did you hire to attack The Blackout?"

Dante’s mouth dried. This was the club owner that his men had found impossible to intimidate? He’d thought they’d been exaggerating, but it looked like they hadn’t even been close. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

He grunted when the man grabbed him around the throat and dragged him up the grimy wall. He kicked out at the man, catching him full in the face, but his assailant just smirked spine-chillingly. "Don’t you?" the man placed a hand on his forehead.

He screamed as the emotions and pain of all his victims rushed through him, the men he’d beaten, the women he’d raped, and the people he’d murdered, hitting him like a train. "NOOOO! OH GOD! NOOOOOO!" he screamed, tears pouring down his face, shaking wildly as his heart pounded, and his bladder and bowels loosening, filling the room with his stench.

His attacker wrinkled his nose. "Not nice," he commented, "did you have garlic with your dinner? Now, I’m going to ask the question again?" the man paused. "Unless you’d like some more memories?"

"No, no, no," he whimpered. "No more memories. No more."

The man nodded. "Then, talk."

"H…his n…name i…is Victor."

His attacker tutted impatiently. "That doesn’t tell me much. Where is he? How many does he have working for him?"

"H…he’s in a disused factory on Lovett Road, h..he’s got seven guys with him."

His kidnapper nodded. "Thanks for that. Now there’s the question what to do with you." He opened his mouth to plea for his life, promise this crazy bastard anything he wanted to get out of here. But once he was free, he’d kill this piece of shit, torture and kill every person the asshole had ever met. "Oh wait," his eyes widened when the man pulled his fist back, "no question."

* * *

His fist crunched into the man’s nose, sending the bone flying into the gangster’s brain. He watched dispassionately as the man slumped forward, flabby chins resting on his chest. Releasing his grip, he allowed the gangster to drop to the ground. "Hey!" he turned to see the Slayer glaring at him, her hands on her hips. "You just killed him in cold blood!"

"Really," he raised an eyebrow at the trio of youths. He remembered being so young, he envied them their innocence. "I hadn’t noticed." Seeing Faith’s mouth open, he spoke first. "That man had murdered 6 men, two in fights, four in business, and two women, just for fun, he tortured them to death." Seeing the Slayer’s sickly face, he continued. "And he’s ordered the deaths of far, far more. If I left him alive, how many more would have died?"

"How do you know all that?" the beautiful brunette demanded, her dark eyes glinting suspiciously.

"You heard him scream?"

"Yes," replied the witch in between shooting nervous glances at her friend and him, "we heard. What did you do?"

"I took all the pain he’d caused, all the deaths, beatings, and rapes he’d instigated and gave it back to him at once."

The three youths turned slightly green. "Y..you can do that?" Faith stuttered. He nodded. "What do ya think, X?"

He was surprised when the Slayer turned to her boy-friend for guidance, he’d have bet good money that she was in charge. The youth stared at him for a second. "You said the Crow was good, right Tara?"

"Yes," Tara said. "Put on earth to right wrongs."

There was a long silence, "Okay," Xander sighed. "I guess no one’s gonna cry over him." The boy swallowed before looking down at the body. "What are ya gonna do with his corpse?"

Draven poked the corpse with his foot. "Leave him here," he replied carelessly.

"Uh," Xander looked worried. "What about the owner? The mob are likely to come down hard on him."

Draven smiled. "I know. The owner’s one of worst slumlords in the state. The mob will not be happy with the body of one of their major bosses turning up in one of his rooms."

Xander chuckled. "There’s a poetry to that I suppose." The youth’s face sobered. "Shall we go find this Victor?"

"That would be the logical next step," he agreed before querying. "How do you kill a vampire by the way?"

* * *

"Anything on this Victor, Tar?" Faith queried.

Tara looked up from her lap-top. "Nothing."

"So," Faith looked up at the derelict factory in front of them in one of Detroit’s more rundown business parks. "Probably means he’s a minor player then."

"Still-."

"Be careful, I know," she interrupted X’s warning with a nod before pulling her stake out from within her denim jacket. "Jeez, mom. We gonna do this?"

"We’re going to do this," Xander agreed.

FIC: MC 19 April ’00 Gangs & Clubs (10/10)

Victor smirked as he looked around the disused factory that was his base. He might be living in a dump right now, but he’d been in a penthouse soon. He was a vampire with plans.

He’d only been turned for six decades but he’d already decided he was going to be different from other demons, no living in sewers or warehouses or factories, he had the strength, why not have the power that came with it? His sire, Mr. Trick, had been a thinker, but thanks to his own sire, had never managed to put his plans into operation.

But he was different. When he’d heard of Dante’s problems, he’d brought his childes out here. He figured if he did the clueless human’s job for him, the mobster would let him in, show him the family. And then he’d know enough about the family to take it apart, install himself as the head of their organisation, and take their riches and power for himself.

His musings were interrupted by the sound of the factory door being torn off its hinges. His eyes snapped to the disturbance. He saw a pair of gorgeous young women, a well-muscled kid, and, his eyes widened, the club owner. "Kill them," he growled. "Kill them all!"

* * *

A trio of the vampires charged Eric. He smiled at their approach, changing into his mime’s face. The demons instantly slowed in their charge, shock on their faces.

Taking advantage of the distraction he bounded forward. A vampire’s fist smashed in his jaw, but he barely felt it as he grabbed the demon’s head and yanked, ripping it off his shoulders. Another vampire got behind him and sunk his fangs into his throat only to recoil in disgust. "Uh, what the fuck are you?"

Eric chose not to answer, instead driving a hook, back-heel kick into the demon’s groin, doubling him up and propelling him into Eric’s elbow. The vampire screamed as he stumbled backwards. Another demon charged him from the front, he responded with a spin kick, snapping the demon’s head back. Before the demon had chance to recover, he punched it in the chest, ripping through it ribcage and dragging his heart out.

The demon stared at him in shock even as he disintegrated into dust. Spinning around, he kicked the rising vampire that had attacked him from behind in the head, knocking face-first onto the ground. Straddling the demon, he crouched down and grabbed its head and twisting, ripping it off its shoulders.

* * *

Xander glanced from left to right as two of the vampires cautiously advanced on him in a flanking motion. Suddenly the one to his left charged him. Ducking under the demon’s wild haymaker, he snapped his heel into the demon’s left knee. The vampire stumbled forward.

Xander ducked under another attack from the vampire before crouching over and stepping into the demon, slamming his side into the off-balance demon and knocking him over Xander’s back and onto the ground at the other side.

The other demon stumbled over his companion’s body and right onto Xander’s stake. The second vampire leapt to his feet. Face contorted with rage, the monster shot out a side thrust kick. Xander swayed away from the blow, grabbed the demon’s leg at the ankle and yanked. The monster howled as he fell forward onto Xander’s stake.

* * *

Faith tilted her head to one side at the two on-rushing demons. "Ah," she cooed sarcastically, fluttering her eyelashes. "Ya boys wanna say hello. How sweet." Leaping into the air, she sailed past the nearest demon to cannon feet-first into the other vampire’s chest.

Even as the demon crashed to the ground, Faith landed in a crouch beside it and slammed her stake down. Sensing the other demon charging her from behind, she rose and twisted her upper body to meet it.

And caught a fist to the head.

Grunting slightly at the pain, she blocked a follow-up left hook on her forearm before driving her forehead into the demon’s face, shattering his nose and spraying blood everywhere. The vampire howled in pain before stumbling backwards. Faith followed up with a foot to his gut, and a leaping spin kick that knocked the demon to the ground.

Her opponent rolled up and charged her again, glinting fangs bared. Faith stood full-on to the on-rushing demon. At the last second, she stepped to the side and snapped out an elbow, catching the demon on the side of his head. Even as the demon shook his head clear, Faith drove her stake home. "Another one explodes into dust," she smirked in satisfaction.

* * *

Victor snarled as he leapt at the weakest looking of the quartet, the honey-blonde. His weight crashed into the teen, knocking her on the floor. Grinning slightly, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her back to her feet, knocking aside her stake, the weapon rattling to the dusty floor. "You think you can kill me?" he bellowed as he flung the girl into some near-by crates.

The girl slid down to the floor, a dazed expression on her face. A smirk on his face, he strode over to her, grabbed her by her throat and lifted her to her feet. His smirk widened as he came to a decision. At first he’d been about to kill her, but now, yes she’d make a worthy bride. He ran a finger down her face before leaning in, licking her face, and whispering in her ear. "You’re mine." He gasped as he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Looking down, he saw a piece of wood sticking out of his chest.

"Back up stake, idiot."

* * *

"Oh yes!" Faith high-fived Tara. "Big Sis totally kicks ass." Faith glanced towards Xander. After a quick sideways look at the Crow, she dropped her voice to a mutter. "You see him X?"

"I saw him," Xander nodded.

"You’re gonna ask him?" she prompted.

After a second her boy-friend nodded. "I’m going to ask him."

* * *

"-I was kinda wondering if you’d, um, run a group in the local area. Tara," the youth glanced at the honey-blonde sat to his right. "Can give you a print-out of all the reliable hunters in the state, witches, psychics, that sort of thing."

Draven sighed inwardly at Xander’s nervous expression. After the fight they’d returned to his club to meet up with Albrecht and report what had happened, although he’d missed out the part about killing Dante. Albercht would work that out for himself when the corpse turned up. The five of them were sat around a table in the club, far enough away that the busily working cleaners couldn’t hear their conversation.

And now the kid had falteringly proposed he run some group for him and his Brotherhood. The figures he’d talked about had been tempting, and he could see the need. But he had his own mission. Deciding on the excuse he’d give, he began. "The thing is Xander-."

"He’ll do it."

He glanced at Albercht in surprise, eyebrow raised. "Since when did you make my decisions for me?"

His friend’s gaze didn’t falter at his reaction. "You going up against crooks has got to stop. We’ve got police to do that-."

"Much good it does," he snorted, bitterness opening old wounds like a scalpel.

His friend winced at the comment. "Whatever. The point is you have powers, super-human powers. From what these kids say," Albercht glanced at their youthful companions, "there’s people out there, fighting monsters every night, trying to keep people safe, risking their own lives. They don’t have your powers, but they’re fighting things far worse than anything we’ve ever seen. You could make a real difference; your powers could really help these kids. From the sounds of things, these demons do a hell of a lot more damage than any two-bit hood."

Draven stared at his friend. For the first time he could see the stress lines around his friend’s eyes, stress lines he’d probably contributed to by his activities, the lies his friend had had to tell on his behalf and the lines he’d crossed for him. He only had the one friend and he didn’t want to hurt him anymore. "You’ll keep me in the loop about any possible supernatural crimes?"

After a second the cop nodded. "Count on it."

Sighing slightly, he turned to the anxiously waiting Xander. "Looks like you got a Michigan branch head."

Xander’s face broke into a broad smile. "Great!" Still beaming, the kid turned to the quietly watching witch. "Can I have those printouts, Tara?"

"You’ve got the printer," the witch replied.

"Oh yeah," the youth ducked his head. "Sorry." Draven shook his head as the kid pulled a printer apparently out of mid-air. Even allowing for his own supernatural status, magic was going to take some getting used to.

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