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On Melinda, and the Favor She Owed Mr. Chapel

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This story is No. 6 in the series "The "On" Series". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Mr. Chapel calls in a favor from a woman he helped ten years ago. The woman, now a slayer, is only too happy to oblige -- she owes him too much to say no.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > Other-Action/Adventure Shows(Current Donor)ListenerFR1815,1470682627 Sep 1227 Sep 12Yes
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or worlds used in this story, including (but not limited to) Angel the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Vengeance Unlimited. No harm is intended toward any of the copyright owners. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only.



by Listener


Continuity notes: The following story takes place in June 2010 in the greater Miami/Ft. Lauderdale area. Paola the Vampire Slayer is mentioned in the second “On” story. DiSalvo’s is a real place; you should go there, if you’re in the area.

This story has not been beta'd. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone. It is complete, and is approximately 5000 words.

Trigger warning: This story contains frank discussion of violence against women, including rape. Reader discretion is advised. Please see the Author’s Note at the end to understand why I included it.


Melinda took a fresh elastic out of her pocket, gathered her short hair back, and bound it into as much of a ponytail as she could. She, Paola, and Sally had just taken care of some fledgling vamps at a Jewish cemetery, and now they had plans to go blow off a little steam.

Well, Paola and Sally, anyway. Melinda had to get home, had to relieve Miles, who was looking after her daughter. Miles was one of many watcher trainees working in the south Florida area, and it was known among all of them that one of the duties was keeping an eye on the slayers’ kids. Melinda wasn’t the only parent, either, although she was the only single one.

“You sure you can’t come out?” Sally asked as they walked back toward the car. “Just for a little while?”

“I’m old,” Melinda grouched. “I need my beauty sleep if I’m going to be up in time to take Cindy to school in the morning.”

Paola put her arm around Melinda’s shoulders, half-hugging her. “You’re a good mom, Mel,” she said. “And you’re definitely my favorite slayer.”

“Thanks, girl,” Melinda said. “I promise I’ll go with you sometime next weekend, but I have to be at home tonight.”

“It’s okay.” Sally tucked away the last of the stakes. “I hear the last time you went to a club with the slayers not a one of them got a second look.”

Melinda just smiled. “Is it my fault that they can’t stop staring at my boobs?”

Sally frowned. “At least you have boobs.”

“Hey!” Melinda gently punched Sally’s arm. “What have I told you about shit like that?”

Sally stuck her hands in her pockets and sighed. “Every body is beautiful.”

“That’s right,” she said. “Every body. Yours, Paola’s, and mine. You get down on yourself again, and you and I are going to have Words.”

A long pause. Then Sally offered a small smile. “Thanks, Mel. I mean it.”

“Anytime.” Melinda knew Sally was concerned that she wasn’t pretty enough, that she wasn’t good enough for any guy to want to be with her. Melinda, who had suffered through esteem issues of her own, would be having none of that. And, as one of the oldest slayers -- not physically, but mentally; she’d only been sixteen when Willow had done her big spell, but she’d already been through more than any woman should have to -- Melinda believed it was up to her to make sure the other girls didn’t have to face what she had.

Melinda re-tied her hair again, then stretched, her back cracking as it readjusted. When she looked up, she caught sight of a shadow, lurking behind a crypt. “Hey, you guys go on ahead,” she said, separating from Paola. “I want to check something out.”

“Vampire?” Sally asked, suddenly all business, hand on a stake.

“Doesn’t feel evil. Just... something.” Something familiar, she realized.

Paola nodded. “Scream if you need us. And remember Rule One.”

“Don’t die,” Melinda said. “I’ll be along soon.”


“All right,” Melinda said when the other slayers were out of earshot. “You can stop hiding now.”

A tall, heavily-built man detached himself from the crypt and, hands in the pockets of his sport coat, gave Melinda a shy-looking smile. Melinda, though, knew he was anything but. “How are you, Melinda?”

“Still living, Mr. Chapel.” She took three big steps forward and pulled the big man into a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” He seemed uncomfortable hugging her, and got out of reach as soon as he could. “Vampire slayer, huh?”

“How’d you know?”

“Been watching you,” he said. “Been in town a few days now, was trying to find someone who owed me a favor. Wasn’t expecting it to be you, though.”

Melinda shrugged. “Well, here I am, and I do owe you one. I owe you a big one.”

“Not a big one,” Mr. Chapel said. “Just the same favor anyone would owe me.”

“No,” she said, her voice soft. “It’s a big one. What you did for me... I can never repay you for that, even if you asked me for a million favors.” She swallowed and spoke in her normal voice again. “You got a car? We can go somewhere and talk.”

“Sounds like a good idea. What about your friends?”

Melinda took her phone out of her hip pocket and texted Paola: Ran into an old friend. I’ll get a ride with him. Go on without me.

Paola’s answering text was in code: You won’t be late for your doctor’s appointment, will you?

Plenty of time. That was the answering code, the one that meant ‘I’m fine, don’t worry.’ “It’s taken care of,” she said. “Now... please tell me you still have that awesome old car.”

“Sure do.” He smiled at her, a real smile, and she grinned back. “I know how much you love leather, after all.”


In the dome light, Melinda saw that Mr. Chapel was older and grayer now, the lines around his eyes and mouth a little deeper and more defined. But he was still the same Mr. Chapel who’d saved her life all those years ago. He’d had more influence on her than Willow’s spell ever could.

Without him, the boys who’d raped Melinda when she was thirteen might still be out on the streets, and even with her slayer powers, she knew she’d never be able to face them again.

Sally hadn’t been kidding around when she’d said Melinda had boobs. In less than eight months she’d gone from a slightly-chubby pre-teen to a fully-endowed young woman with the largest breasts in her middle school. Her boyfriend had been the talk of the school, and gossip about whether or not she’d let him feel her up had filled the halls. She hadn’t, though not for lack of him trying.

And then she’d made the mistake of taking a shortcut home, walking through the little stand of woods behind the golf course. Jack’s older brother John and two of his friends, Charlie and Carson, had surprised her, menaced her, threatened to hurt her if she didn’t let them touch her.

They’d been lying. She’d taken off her shirt and bra, let them play with her -- all the while biting hard on her lip to keep from losing it -- and then, when she’d tried to leave, Leo had backhanded her anyway.

She refused to think about the rest of it -- how powerless she’d felt as they’d held her down, shoved a thick piece of cloth in her mouth, and then done things to her that had turned her off from boys until after she got her powers. Until after she was strong enough to break the neck of anyone who tried to force her. Afterward, they left her, bruised and beaten, stumbling to the nearest fire station and begging for help.

They almost got away with it, too; Leo’s parents had money, and their lawyer kept the police from getting a DNA sample off him and the other boys.

Then, one night, Mr. Chapel had knocked at her door and offered his services, ostensibly as an attorney. But when he’d finally had a moment to talk to Melinda alone, he’d explained who he really was, and what the terms were of the arrangement: Mr. Chapel would do whatever it took to see her attackers faced justice, and she would either pay him one million dollars or owe him a favor, to be collected at some point in the future -- “after you turn eighteen,” he said. “I’ll help you, but I won’t make you repay me until you’re old enough to know what you’re doing.”

“We don’t...” She swallowed hard. “We don’t have that much money. And... Mr. Chapel... I’m scared. I’m so... so... scared...

He’d taken her in his arms then, let her cry on his black sport coat, and comforted her as best he knew how.

“I’ll do it,” she said. “I’ll owe you a favor.”

Mr. Chapel had nodded, and three days later the DNA evidence proved that Leo, Charlie, and Carson had raped Melinda. Though they were juveniles when it happened, they were tried as adults and to this day were still in jail -- and, when they eventually got out, they faced a lifetime of probation and placement on the sex offender list.

Ten years on, Melinda was more than happy to be sitting in Mr. Chapel’s hotel room, ready to repay the favor she owed him, no matter what it was.

As it turned out, it wouldn’t even be that difficult. It was right up her alley.


Mr. Chapel explained the situation over Italian take-out from DiSalvo’s, a popular local restaurant. “There’s a local drug kingpin named Tito Vargas,” he said while she demolished a plate of spaghetti and an order of garlic rolls. Mr. Chapel, for his part, was slowly enjoying chicken parmigiana. “He runs a protection racket in the area he controls.”

“Yeah, they do that.” Melinda dipped her finger in the dregs of garlic and oil and sucked it clean. She saw Mr. Chapel staring at her. “What?”

“I’m just impressed you managed to eat all that. Do you... always?”

“Slayer. Need a lot of energy, which means a lot of food.” She rubbed her stomach. “Good thing I got called, too; otherwise I might be as big around as I am tall.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Are there that many more of you?”

Melinda nodded. “Thousands, as far as I know, and we can all kick ass. Some more than others.”

“I saw. Your skinny friend--”


“Yes. She definitely knows martial arts. But you... you’re a little more unorthodox.”

“If you mean I like to whale on the vampires until they’re down, then sit on ‘em and stake ‘em, then yeah. Unorthodox. But I also know krav maga -- it’s required.”

“Required by whom?”

“Never mind that.” Melinda trusted Mr. Chapel to the ends of the earth and beyond, but he didn’t need to know everything about slayers. Not just yet, and not without first consulting someone in Cleveland. She made a mental note to call after this was all over. “So, about Tito Vargas?”

“One of the businesses in his area is refusing to pay,” he said. “Vargas is threatening to kill his family. He’s already kidnapped the wife.”


“Three, but they’re untouched so far. They’re staying with their grandmother.”

“Good thing. What do you need me to do?”

“Back me up,” he said. “I’m going in there tomorrow, and I want to make sure they don’t get the drop on me. From what I saw, you have much better hearing than I do.”

“It’s a slayer thing.” She snatched a piece of bread from the bag in front of Mr. Chapel and smooshed it into the garlic and oil on her own plate. “Sorry. It looked lonely.”

Mr. Chapel frowned, but he didn’t look like he meant it. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight. We hit Vargas’s warehouse at nine. Bring whatever weapons you’re comfortable with, but I don’t want to kill anyone.”

“I remember.” Leo’s family’s attorney had threatened violence, flashed a handgun; Mr. Chapel had disarmed him, broken three of his fingers, and on the way home thrown the gun into a lake. “Slayers don’t kill humans. It’s kind of a rule.”

“If you say so.” He watched her finish her Coke. “Here,” he said, handing her a business card. “Call me if something comes up.”

“You got it.” She touched his hand a little longer than necessary -- she was an adult now, and he’d been there for one of the most important events in her life. She’d decided back in the car that she was willing, if he was interested.

But he didn’t seem to be. Or maybe he just didn’t do that sort of thing with people who owed him favors. Oh well. “Good night, Melinda,” he said, rather firmly. “Do you need cash for a cab?”

“I got it,” she said. “Good night, Mr. Chapel.”


Melinda often bemoaned the fact that she was so short -- just over five feet. For starters, no one made off-the-rack clothes for someone her height but with the bust and hips more suited to someone a foot taller. And, on top of that, it was really hard to hide a sword.

Or, at least, it had been until someone in Los Angeles had stumbled upon a weapons expert who’d developed a collapsible sword, worn strapped to the wielder’s forearm. Now, if she could handle wearing long sleeves in the heat, she could carry swords like most of the other slayers.

The sun was still somewhat out at eight when Mr. Chapel picked her up. They rode in silence to Tito Vargas’s territory and stashed his car, then made their way to the warehouse on foot.

Where Vargas’s guards were waiting for them. In game face. “Go,” Melinda told Mr. Chapel. “Do what you have to. I’ll take care of them.”

“Take care?” One of the vampires actually laughed out loud. “Maybe if we were leprechauns or something.”

“Leprechauns aren’t real,” Melinda said.

“Whatever,” the vampire scoffed.

Melinda shrugged, and then threw a stake; it pierced the vampire’s heart, and he turned to dust. Mr. Chapel used the distraction to get past the vampires -- punching one of them hard enough to break his jaw in the process. She followed, making sure the vamps stayed in front of her, with her back to the door that he’d slipped through.

“Three on one?” Melinda gave them a come-hither smile. “You don’t want to know what happened the last time three guys tried to have their way with me.”

“Don’t we?” The tallest vampire, a muscular Latino man, shirtless and covered with tattoos. “Why not?” He moved closer, and Melinda tried her best not to tense up. When he was near enough to touch, she reached up and cupped his cheek. “See, baby? That’s a good girl.”

Melinda swallowed down a mouthful of bile. That’s what Leo had said right before he’d stolen her virginity.

She let her hand drift down over his chest. Then she made the peculiar little motion with her wrist that shot the blade out from her arm and through his heart. She twisted hard, ripping his heart to shreds; he turned to dust, and she closed her eyes and tried not to breathe until the last of him had drifted to the concrete floor.

“Who else wants a piece?”

One of the vampires whistled, and three more showed up.

“Five on one, puta,” snarled the only girl -- she looked like a druggie, all skinny and hard, but with yellow eyes and fangs Melinda knew she would be just as tough as the others. “No more joking now, eh?”

“I dunno,” Melinda said, collapsing the sword back into her sleeve. “I still think I have the advantage.”

Two of the vamps pulled handguns out of their waistbands. “How about now, putana? How you like us now?”



Melinda knew she might only have one shot at disarming the two shooters, and she also knew that, no matter what happened, she’d be taking some hits while she did it. The object was to avoid getting shot.

Fortunately, this had been part of her training. Not fighting two people with guns, but disarming opponents.

She stepped forward, reaching behind her back and into the little pouch she carried at the base of her spine. “Hey!” said the girl vamp. “No stakes! We know you’re a slayer!”

Melinda held up her hands, fingers flat together, palms out. “No stakes.” Then, in one fluid movement, she flung the throwing stars she’d been hiding. One hit a shooter right in the hand, slicing through his fingers; he dropped his gun, which clattered to the floor. The other missed. Sort of.

Instead of hitting the vamp’s hand, it chopped into his throat. He dropped his gun as well, clutching his neck.

Awesome. Now let’s see what they’ve really got.

Melinda didn’t wait for the other vampires to react. She whipped out two stakes and leapt backward; her foot hit the wall and she pushed off, angling herself at the vampire who held a bloody hand to his chest. She slammed the stake through that same hand, through his ribs, and into his heart. She’d counted on him turning to dust as he’d fallen, and she fell with him, turning onto her back as she went. Another vampire was coming straight for her -- they always did; they were so predictable.

She kicked up to her feet -- never a comfortable maneuver, given her body shape, but with slayer strength so many things were possible -- and caught the vampire as he came for her, turning with him and slamming him to the ground. She jammed one stake into his mouth, and as he tried to rear back, slayed him too.

Three down, three to go.

Problem was, at this point, vamps started to get smart. Or, at least, less dumb. The three of them formed a loose triangle around her, feinting in her direction. She dropped her stakes and shifted into a fighting stance.

The smaller of the two male vampires snickered and waved the others off. He mirrored her with a stance of his own.

There’s always one.

The only martial art Melinda knew at all was krav maga, as she’d told Mr. Chapel. She wasn’t great at it, but that was all right; all she had to do was make the ninja-vamp think she’d fight in some sort of style. This usually only worked once, but judging from the other two, it would be all she needed.

The ninja-vamp advanced, using a move Melinda had seen Faith perform in training sessions the last time she’d gone to Cleveland. He bounced onto his front foot and brought the other one forward, trying for a snap-kick; Melinda cross-blocked it, then brought her arms down to stop his second kick.

That was about all she knew, though; his third kick thudded against the side of her head and she cried out, grabbing her ear. Fuck! I forgot how much that fucking hurts!

The ninja-vamp shuffled closer, bringing back his fist, ready to hit her again.

Melinda rose to meet him, palm extended in a textbook-perfect rising strike. The vamp laughed when he saw that she was too far away to hit him.

They always forget about the sword.

She flicked her wrist and decapitated the vampire while he was still laughing at her.


The vampire with the star in his neck had healed enough to speak. “I’m gonna cut you, bitch!” he rasped. “Gonna cut your throat and smear your blood all over my face!”

“I seen him do it,” the druggie girl said. “You gonna die, puta. You gonna die ugly and screaming!”

“God, you’re annoying.” Melinda pointed her sword at the druggie, stalking in her direction. She put the maximum amount of sway into her hips -- and immediately stopped doing it, realizing that she was getting cocky. But, hey, I took down four vampires! I’m owed a little cocky.

Besides, the druggie was backing away, yellow-green eyes wide, holding up her hands.

And that was when the other vampire got his hands on one of the guns and shot her.


Melinda didn’t actually see the vamp shoot her -- the first thing she felt was the bullet ripping along the flesh of her right shoulder. Her arm went numb, then seemed to catch fire, and it took a supreme effort of will to make the collapsible sword collapse before she cut herself on it as she fell.

In a flash, both vampires were over her, the man pressing a bloody shuriken to the hollow of her throat. “Hello, slayer,” he hissed. Then the razor-sharp edge bit deep into her flesh. She whimpered. “Looks like I’ve got you right where I want you.”

Melinda tried to struggle, but the druggie girl was as strong as any other vamp, and Melinda knew if she twisted too much, the girl’s grip on her head would like as not snap her neck. The other vamp was straddling her legs, and she felt how pleased he was to be lowering his mouth to the bleeding wound on her throat, to be tasting her blood.

And she was back in the woods. Helpless. Petrified. Bleeding and beaten, her boyfriend’s brother about to rape her.

“No,” she whispered.

“Don’t you tell us no, bitch,” the druggie hissed. “We’re gonna eat a slayer!”

“No,” she repeated, and this time her voice was stronger. “Not again!”

The male vampire lifted his face. He only had a tiny smudge of blood on his lip, but Melinda felt it welling up and sliding down both sides of her neck. “Again? You mean you’ve been in this position before?” He smiled, showing bloody fangs which he licked off with quick flashes of tongue. “Lucky me. You’ll know what’s coming next, then.”

The druggie came into view, upside-down, hair curtaining around Melissa’s face. “Don’t let him hurt me,” she said, trying to sound afraid -- which wasn’t very difficult. “Can you... help me take the pain away?” Melinda reached up and took the girl’s face in her hands. “Please... give me something sweet, something to take with me...” She brought the girl’s face closer to her own, and the she saw the vampire’s game face shift back to normal. For a moment, Melinda felt regret -- this girl must’ve only been sixteen or seventeen when she was turned. When she wasn’t vamped out, she looked almost sweet, almost innocent.

The girl blinked large brown eyes at Melinda. “You’re going to die,” she said.

“I know. But before I do...” Their faces were only a fingerbreadth apart now. “Before I do... will you kiss me goodbye?”

The girl nodded, just once, and then her thin, chapped lips were on Melinda’s, shockingly tender. Melinda relaxed into the kiss, caressing the girl’s face, waiting for the moment that the other vampire stopped being a demon and started being a man. Because Melinda knew men, knew very few could concentrate on anything when there was even the slightest possibility of girl-on-girl action in their general vicinity.

The pressure on her legs lifted slightly.

Best I’m going to get.

Melinda adjusted her hands on the girl’s face, steeled herself, and plunged her thumbs into the girl’s eyes.

The scream was deafening.


Melinda didn’t give either vampire a chance to react. As the girl reared back, Melinda sat up straight and grabbed the male vamp around the torso with one arm. He brought his face down, fangs extended, and Melinda thrust her palm upward, catching the fangs in her palm -- good God that fucking hurts! -- as she shoved hard, bending his neck backward until her other hand could catch hold of his hair.

One more push and the vampire’s neck cracked like so much dry wood. He went limp and she squirmed away from him. Her right hand was bleeding now from two deep puncture wounds, but they’d heal. So would the vampire, though it might take a couple of hours.

Melinda wasn’t a sadist. Not really. The girl vampire was huddled in a heap, clutching her face, whimpering in pain. “I’m sorry,” she said, extending her sword. She beheaded the girl, and then went back to where the broken-necked vampire lay on the floor. “And, as for you?” The vamp’s eyes were open; it couldn’t move, not until its spinal cord healed, but it could think, and it could experience fear.

It certainly was experiencing fear now. The same fear and helplessness that Melinda had felt when he’d been on top of her, drinking her blood. The same fear and helplessness that had been a part of her life every minute since that day in the woods. It would never go away; no matter how strong she was, no matter how powerful being a slayer made her, the fear would be present in the back of her mind.

But these days... these days, she could fight back.

Melinda considered trying to come up with a good quip, some sort of line for the vampire to take with him as she sent him to hell -- or wherever vampires went when they died. But he wasn’t worth it.

She decapitated him and turned away before he became nothing more than dust. She didn’t need to watch him die.


Mr. Chapel was carrying a middle-aged brown-haired woman when he got back. His clothing was scuffed and dirty, and he had a bruise on his temple, but otherwise looked none the worse for wear. “We done?” Melinda asked.

“We’re done. Vargas is dealt with.”

“‘Dealt with’?” she asked, falling in step with him. “I thought you don’t kill people.”

“I didn’t kill him.”

On the way to the hospital, the woman unconscious in the backseat, Melinda pushed Mr. Chapel to give her details, but he refused. After they dropped the woman off, he drove her home. “I know you’re probably hungry,” he said, “but I don’t think either of us should go out to eat right now.”

“I understand.” But he did drive through a McDonald’s for her, which she appreciated. When they were finally in her driveway, she said, “what happens now?”

“Now?” He shrugged. “We’re even. I’m out of your life. Forever” Before she could open the door, though, she felt his hand on her shoulder. “But...”


“But...” A sigh. “K.C. -- remember her?” Melinda nodded. “She died a few years ago, in a car accident. Nothing to do with our work; just bad luck.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” His blue eyes looked faded, washed-out in the yellowish dome light. “Having someone with me... it helps. But it can be a liability, because I was always worrying about her.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Melinda said. “I can take care of myself.”

Mr. Chapel gestured to the bandaged wound on Melinda’s throat. “Like you did with that?”

She felt a smile touch her lips. “You should see the other guy.”

“I’m sure you slayed him.”

“I did.”

Silence. A lot of it. Mr. Chapel seemed to be measuring her up, but didn’t know what to say.

Melinda said it for him. “You’ve been doing this for a long time,” she said. “I know you have; I can tell. But maybe it’s time to do something different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Give me your phone.” He did, and she opened the notepad app. “When you’ve had enough -- when you want to do more -- call this number.” She keyed it in. “Tell them I sent you.”

“This is all I’ve done for thirty years,” Mr. Chapel said. “I’m too old to learn new tricks.”

“Maybe.” Melinda took his large hand in both of hers. “But maybe not.” She kissed his index finger. “If you ever need me, call me. I still owe you--”

“No, you don’t--”

“Yes. I do.” She exerted enough of her slayer strength on his hand to make his eyes widen, then let go and opened the door. “Goodbye, Mr. Chapel.”

“Goodbye, Melinda.”

She closed the car door and made her way up the walk. Though she didn’t look back, she knew Mr. Chapel was watching her, making sure she made it safely into the house.

Melinda smiled. She hoped Mr. Chapel would call that number. He’d make an excellent watcher.


Melinda said good night to Paola, who was using her night off to look after Cindy, and then went to her daughter’s room. She stood in the doorway for a minute or so, watching her sleep the sleep of the innocent. Though the circumstances around her conception had been horrible, Melinda’s little girl was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Cindy thought Melinda was the most amazing person on the planet, and that alone made it worth it to go out every night and make the world a little bit safer.

She smiled and closed the door.

Guess Mr. Chapel and I aren’t so different after all.


Author’s Note:

Melinda is based on a friend of mine who actually was raped by multiple individuals. They faced justice and were punished for their crimes. But every time it comes up in conversation -- not, you know, a lot, but it does -- I feel for her. She and I are very close, and I admire her strength. If vampire slayers were real, the real Melinda would definitely be stronger than any of them.

If you or someone you know has been a victim of rape or sexual violence... be as strong as Melinda was. Get justice. Please. If you can’t do it alone, there are people who can help. Start here.

Now that the serious stuff is out of the way...

Am I the only person who watched Vengeance Unlimited? I’m pretty sure I was; I mean, it did get cancelled after only sixteen episodes.

For those who didn’t go to the Wikipedia page, VU is the story of Mr. Chapel, a man who does exactly what Melinda explained in the story: he finds people who need help and he offers it to them. The cost: one million dollars, or a favor. The favor could be anything, from revealing state secrets to providing after-hours medical care. Once you repay Mr. Chapel’s favor, he’s out of your life forever. The show starred Michael Madsen as Mr. Chapel and Kathleen York as K.C., a former police file clerk who joined him in his quest for justice... and vengeance. Unlimited.

The DVDs aren’t available on Amazon or anywhere else that I could find, but I’m sure that if you look hard enough *ahem* you can find them.

As always, your feedback (reviews or e-mails, whatever you like) is greatly appreciated. And remember what I said about being strong.

The next "On" story will arrive on October 8. It's a three-parter featuring zombies and plants. And that's really about all you need to know for now.

Marietta, GA, USA
September 27, 2012

The End

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