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by Chris Kenworthy (scoobyhq@fcmail.com)
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters that you recognize from the Buffy television show and don't make money off of them.
"Um, ex-excuse me," Bruce began. "I, em, I'm sorry to inform you that we have all been taken hostage. Please, don't make any sudden or threatening moves, and do anything that is asked of you by the... by our captors, the armed persons who will be wearing black headbands to identify themselves." With that, nine or ten people wearing such headbands waved weapons slightly. Most of them had been in costume as soldiers or action heroes, with weapons Xander would have assumed were props and that were now clearly not. Michelle Pfeiffer heart of courage was one of them, of course. To Xander's surprise, he also realized that the waiter who had slipped Willow and himself the booze was now wearing a black headband and carrying a submachine gun.
"I... what else was there?" Bruce was asking. "Oh, yes. These people have assured me that they'll do their best to get us out of here, with as few people killed or seriously hurt as possible, but it's going to be a few hours. So please, sit down and try to make yourselves comfortable."
Xander's attention was elsewhere, on the 'waiter,' who was heading over to 'Michelle' and Willow. "Yeah, she'll definitely be a good candidate," he was saying. "So pretty, so brave." He smiled nastily, which Xander could only see edge on. "I'll take her in," he concluded, bringing up his gun and nodding the armed woman off to other duties.
"Willow!" Xander called out, not certain why he was doing it. "No!!" He dived down off the stage, grabbing for his John Steed umbrella, which unfortunately could not do any of the cool stuff the REAL John Steed's umbrella could. "Let her go!!" he called out, charging towards the waiter in a headlong run.
He didn't make it, of course. With a ringing retort, a bolt of pain lanced into the side of his back, and even more painfully out the front a few inches further on. Xander could only clap his hand onto the wounds and collapse onto the floor.
"Kiii!" With a karate chop and a footsweep, Buffy had the vamp who had just shot Xander on the floor. She kicked him once in the knee, trying to make sure that he'd stay down, and was about to lean over to pick up his weapon when WHIZZ! A throwing knife landed deep within her shoulder. Other members of the vampire posse, (for that was what they all assuredly were,) were bringing their weapons to bear on her, and Buffy realized that she had better disappear. In a blur, she was gone, heading for the passageways behind the stairs. Only the bloody knife remained where she had stood, and the fallen vamp nearby, struggling to his feet.
For whatever reasons, the vampires did not pursue her. "I'm sorry about all that," the waiter announced to the stunned crowd. "We really don't want to hurt you, but we have to defend ourselves. To attack any of us," he paused dramatically, "is to ask to die." He grabbed Willow around the neck and urged her further on. "C'mon cutie, it's just this way."
(In the Bronze's management office,)
"Oh, my goodness!" Tom said, looking deep into Willow Rosenberg's eyes.
"I saw her first," Harry, (the waiter,) snapped.
"I wasn't talking about her looks," Tom said sourly. "She's not as innocent as she seems."
"Ooh, my my!" Harry shot back, rubbing his hands together and grinning. "Nothing wrong with an experienced girl..."
"Shut up, Harry," Tom flared, "and keep your dirty mind to yourself. She's not innocent about us, about vampires, about demons. She has helped to fight our breed."
"A Slayer?" Harry asked, but Tom nodded.
"I don't think so. Not Bob's Slayer, certainly, despite the, uh, enticing leather suit," Tom chuckled to himself. "But this girl knows one of the Slayers, I'd bet. Helps her."
"Will that be a problem?" Harry asked him. "For the, uh, ritual??"
"Not at all!" Tom reported happily. "It should be a benefit, actually. She'll be a little more open to the paranormal than a random choice, and this way the Upriser won't be able to complain that the seance 'ruined' some of his precious children. This little cutey," and he reached out to stroke Willow's chin - she shivered despite the light trance she had been placed in, "is useless to the Upriser already." Tom considered that a moment. "I think I'm gonna go see if I can find another like her."
"Watch yourself," Harry reminded him. "Do you wanna take a couple of the goons are with you, buddy? We can't pull this thing off without you."
Tom smiled. "Don't you think I know that? Don't worry about it," he assured Harry. "I can take care of myself."
"Hey, while you're at it, see if you can find catwoman," Bob suggested from the security board.
"We're not looking for your catwoman," Jim snapped to the electronics expert as he strode arrogantly into the office. Tom gave a nod to the leader and headed out. "She's a Slayer, she's too dangerous to use or hold prisoner. If we find her, we kill her. Understand?" Bob nodded resentfully. "So, what's the story with this thing?" he tapped the security console that Bob was sitting at.
"The lockdown is secure," Bob told him. "Nobody gets in or out of any door without these keys," he jingled a large keyring next to the console, "and without me approving it from right here."
"Okay," Jim said. "We look good outside - things were pretty calm except for your incident, Harry. How're we doing on the girls?"
"Tom liked this cutey so much that he's gone to find another one just like her," Harry reported happily. "Can't say I blame him." He reached out to brush a lock of the still hypnoid Willow's hair back behind her ear.
"Okay," Jim replied. "What are your thoughts on the call to the Upriser? Do we put it through before or after the seance?"
"The first call now," Harry decided. Bob nodded.
"Okay," Jim said, picking up the manager's telephone and dialing a number.
"Uh, hello?" the voice on the other end said. It was cultured, even, and just the tiniest bit 'chipper.'
"Ricardo?" Jim asked.
"Uh, yes, I suppose so."
"We have the children in their playground. They're safe and sound except for a few foolish lambs. Do NOT try to break in. Do NOT call us again before we call you. Get the staff of Shadows ready." With that, Jim clicked off. "Good?" he asked his partners.
(Out in the main room.)
"Oh, my god, omigod," Cordelia said for the hundredth time. "I can't believe... oh, why does this stuff always happen to me??"
Cole didn't try to answer that. "Cordelia," he began one more time. "I'll be right back, but I need to..." But Cordelia gripped harder at his arm with a strength that was beyond reason, beyond anything he could say. Cole settled back down and waited uncomfortably. Maybe in a few minutes...
"You!" Cordelia looked up to see who had spoken, and screamed. It was a pleasant young man dressed as Jerry Maguire, but he was wearing a black headband, and was holding a small revolver in his left hand. A huge, nasty-looking mace hung from his belt. "You're the other!"
"No!" Cordelia screamed impatiently. "No I'm not!! Cole, help!!"
But Cole knew he could do nothing but sit and watch as Jerry helped Cordelia to her feet and led her off. If he tried to defend her, he would only get attacked himself, and he knew he couldn't overwhelm these people. Besides, this was the chance he had been waiting for, though he hadn't expected it to come like this. Cole got to his feet and headed out across the dance floor.
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