*Disclaimer: Buffy and Co. belong to Joss Whedon, Andre/Allen Garvey belongs to whoever owns the rights to the '80's detective show Matt Houston.*
Crouching behind the parapet of the wall he was on, Andre examined his target and his target's friends on the screen attached to the camera and laser microphone he had set up, covering the entrance to the house they were interested in. As the red head raised her hands and said some words in a language that sounded like Latin, he noticed a shimmer in the air. Slightly more shocking was when she started burning some plant matter and they disappeared from the screen. The blond and brunet identified in his briefing as Buffy Summers and Faith (no last name) reappeared, shattering the door inwards and rushing inside.
"Slayers!" he heard over the microphone followed by shouts, pleas and the sounds of a brisk, if one-sided fight.
"Xander, you were supposed to remain fray adjacent!"
"Sorry Wills, couldn't let him get away and hey, clean kill," was the response, followed by a groan. "Of course, I suppose his friend disagreed. My ribs feel like I separated some cartilage. I'll be fine in a few days."
The general out pouring of concern was of no interest to Andre, but then the target informed the rest of the group that he would go straight home but for them not to forgo their post slayage party. He'd join them after a soak and taking something for the pain. Smiling, Andre broke down his surveillance position and headed for the street and his car. He knew the quickest way to Alexander "Xander" Lavelle Harris' apartment and that was where he planned to finish his job.
Waiting in the stairwell nearest the end of the hall that the apartment was on, he was glad most of the tenants used the elevators, because Harris lived on the second floor, he tended to use the stairs to "help maintain my fitness for the fight". When he heard the the ground floor door slam closed and Harris' hissed breathing as he began his climb, Andre headed down. When he saw the one remaining eye in his target's face, he stepped aside to allow the target to pass, then pivoted, the edge of his hand aimed for the base of Xander's skull. Despite coming from his blind side, Xander sensed the attack and managed a half duck, taking the impact higher than Andre planned and stumbling forward on the landing. Andre swung a roundhouse kick at Xander's thigh, followed by a straight left to the ribs that stole Xander's breath. Xander tried to turtle up, exposing his chin to a palm heel strike that stunned him for the few moments Andre needed to pull out the syringe of sedative and shoot the full load of Thorazine into Xander's neck. Lifting Xander so that it seemed he was leaning on him in a drunken stupor, Andre carried him to his car, parked in the alley. Laying Xander in the back seat, he secured his hands and feet with zip ties.
Waking with a foul taste in his mouth, Xander tried to spit out the rag that was tied there and struggled against the restraints, the cold from the evaporating gasoline soaking his clothing and making a pool on the cement floor he was laying on adding to his discomfort. The handsome blond male standing before him looked amused by his struggles. After a few moments of Xander attempting to communicate through the gag, Andre smiled.
"Wondering what's going on?" Xander's nodding caused him to place a few photographs of burned bodies facing him on a little wooden stand. "Your victims families wanted revenge. They want you to feel the pain their loved ones experienced." Xander shook his head, his outraged cries of denial effectively muffled. "If its any comfort, the fire will sear your lungs and you will suffocate fairly quickly. Until you pass out though, the pain should be agonizing." Pulling out a small box of wooden matches, Andre drew one of them out.
Xander watched helplessly as the assassin ignited the match and tossed it into the pool of gasoline that he was the center of. As the liquid ignited with a *whoosh* and the blueish yellow flames raced towards him, he screamed and thrashed, his ankles pulling at the bonds on his wrists, unable even to roll over. Closing his eyes, he waited for Buffy and Willow to appear and save him, even as the cold got momentarily greater, before the pain began. The rag burned the inside of his mouth as it burned through and his screams echoed through the warehouse. Minutes later he passed into unconsciousness. When the flames finally died, Andre checked the vital signs of the corpse. Walking to the the laptop and digital camera filming the whole affair, he edited the footage, stored it in a zip file and emailed it to his client for confirmation before leaving the warehouse and heading for the airport. He had to return to the U.S. for another job and time was money.