FIC: Pulp Faith (4/?)
Savage strode down the busy sidewalk, alongside his strangely-attired companion, conscious of the many stares the brunette’s strange style of dress gained her. Although of course beautiful women always got plenty of looks.
Suddenly the lady in question stopped at an alley entrance, her eyes narrowing and forehead creasing. “Give me a moment.” Before he had chance to speak, she’d spun away and started down the alleyway and towards a brawling pair in the shadows of the alley’s far end, one youth far larger than the other one he was beating on.
“Taking the side of a spade shoe-shine boy?” snarled the bigger youth as his fist thudded home, bloodying the smaller boy’s nose. “You’re a traitor to your own kind!”
“Racist.” The Slayer’s foot thudded into the bully’s hamstring, knocking him to one knee. “Bully.” Her elbow snapped down, crashing down and into the top of his head, stunning him. “Coward.” The Slayer grabbed the back of the thug’s collar and drove him face first into the wall. “You really are 0 for 3.” The youth bounced off the wall and crashed to the ground, his face bloody and body barely twitching.
The teen blond lying crumpled on the refuse-strewn alley had blood leaking from his mouth and nose. He was a scrawny fellow, perhaps four or five inches over five feet and with considerably less muscle on his frame than the average French Fry. And yet Savage noted something in the boy’s sky blue eyes that suggested greater than normal depths. “Hey,” the Slayer grabbed the downed man’s forearm and pulled him to his feet, “you might wanna consider pickin’ fights with guys who aren’t three times your size. What the hell was it about anyhow?”
The teen used his free arm to wipe the blood from his leaking mouth before replying, eyes glassy and yet his gaze strangely steady. “He was hassling old Amos on account of his colour. Amos has never done anybody any harm.” The teen forced a smile. “I’m Steve by the way, Steve Rogers.”
It seemed to Savage that his companion rocked back on her feet at the blond’s utterance of his name. “Well Steve,” the Slayer smiled, “you keep fightin’ for truth, justice, and the American way, you hear?”
“Ms. Lehane?” Savage prompted. “We had an appointment?”
“Yeah,” Faith nodded at the younger man then spun around and strode out of the alley.
“It seemed as if you recognised the young man’s name?” Savage queried as he raced after his companion.
Faith shot him a sultrily mysterious smirk. “Let’s just say ‘Steve Rogers’ is a very, very big deal to people from my time.”
“Ah,” Savage allowed the matter to drop, reaching into his jacket to check his pocket watch, “if we hurry, we should make the start of Professor Erskine’s lecture.”
“Oh happy joy.”
“If I might ask-.”
“You might not,” Xander muttered, like that would stop his companions’ incessant questions.
“Are you and the delightful Ms. Lehane involved?” Monk finished.
Delightful? They really didn’t know Faith. “Nah,” Xander shook his head, “been there, sort of done that. Strictly business.”
“Excellent,” Ham fair leered, “then there is an opportunity.”
Xander glanced at his pair of companions, fought back a chuckle then nodded. “Sure, knock yourselves out.” If they didn’t, Faith probably would. “Where did the others go?”
“Ah, Doc has them investigating some leads into just who is behind the hiring of this Order,” Monk replied.
“Huh,” Xander glanced at the other man, his brow furrowing slightly. He didn’t especially like the idea of ‘novices’ going up against potentially demonic opponents without experienced back-up, unfortunately he had his own problems to deal with.
Returning to the matter in hand, he looked towards the single-storey brownstoned building across the road from where they were lurking. “Tell me about this Dr. Phineas Horton?”
“According to what ‘Doc’ tells us he’s an expert in robotics and artificial intelligence, whatever they are exactly,” Ham replied. “That’s his lab, he spends his days in there, practically from dawn to dusk.”
“Huh,” Xander nodded. “And there’s only one way in?”
“There’s no door or even windows around the rear,” Monk replied. “I checked earlier.”
“Huh, huh.” Xander’s solitary eye narrowed as a horse-drawn delivery wagon pulled up outside the lab. His brow furrowed. “If he’s a robotics engineer why would he need lab rats?”
Stepping out of the alley, Xander hurried across the road, marvelling again at the relative lack of traffic. “Hey buddy,” Xander tried and failed for a Brooklyn accent, probably channelling one too many De Niro performances, as he hailed the deliveryman, “you got a moment?” His voice trailed off as his eye caught the gleam of a tell-tale signet ring.
A curved dagger appeared in the would-be assassin’s hand as if by magic. “Oh boy.” Xander gulped as the man slashed at his feet, leaping back to evade the knife even as another dagger appeared in his assailant’s other hand. The weapons slashed through the air between the pair of them as Xander retreated, swaying in and out of the flashing blades.
And then Monk tackled the killer at the knees and Ham took him at the shoulders, the assassin’s lower body going left and his torso going right as he crumbled to the ground, his body twisted like a particularly painful pretzel. “I say,” Ham looked up at Xander as he kicked the assassin in the face, knocking him out, “do you think Ms. Lehane will be impressed by this?”
“Geez,” Xander shook his head as he helped the pair up, “you two need to get a hobby or maybe try masturbation. That got through me through a couple of difficult years.”
She’d listened to Giles lecture about a whole variety of matters and she never thought she could ever be more bored.
Boy was she ever wrong.
They were stood off to the left of the stage upon which the weedy Jewish scientist had droned on and on about manipulating biology and chemistry to create somethin’ called an ubermensch to an audience filled with about thirty – forty boffin-looking dudes inter-mingled with maybe a dozen harder-looking guys that had the feel of military. Savage on the other hand was in rapture, nodding and muttering unintelligible commentary and occasionally makin’ that odd trilling sound of his.
Finally the lecture ended to a smattering of applause, a few questions coming from the scientists amongst the audience, the soldiers looking interested but sceptical.
Faith’s eyes narrowed, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling ominously. “Say,” she forced a casual note in her voice, “it’s still daylight, right?” Her towering companion nodded. “Crap.” Her brow furrowed in momentary thought. “Hey, is there sewage entrance into this place?”
“Yes,” Savage nodded. “Around the back of the stage.”
“Follow me.” Without waiting to see if her companion obeyed, Faith strode off, darting behind the stage wall and into the only partially-illuminated corridor behind. Her heart thundering, she stalked down the shadow-shrouded passageway, her eyes searching the darkness for her adversary.
“SHIT!” Faith leaned back as a snarling Oriental vampire lunged out of the shadows to her right, taloned hand only just missing slashing her face. Savage lunged past her and at the vampire but caught a kick to the gut that folded him in two and sent him staggering back, face greying beneath his tan.
For her part, Faith leapt into the attack, slipping outside an attempted right cross to the jaw and closing fast with her opponent, driving a hard knee into the vamp’s midsection. The demon grunted but twisted to meet her, forcing her to block its wild swings on her forearms, then step in close, and drive her head hard into the demon’s face. The vampire grunted but still led with its fangs trying and failing to grasp her neck between its lips.
Faith writhed away from the attack, sidestepped the demon and drove her elbow down into its hip. The vampire grunted, twisted away from her and side-kicked a rising Savage in the chest, knocking him onto his ass. Faith used the distraction to leap back in to the attack, twisting at the waist as she drove a body shot into the vampire’s stomach while simultaneously swinging up with an uppercut that caught the demon on the point of its jaw.
The vampire let out a pained screech and reared back. Faith drew her dagger and ducked under its claws, coming up inside its defences to grin cockily as she slashed her knife across the beast’s throat, and turn to Savage as it exploded into dust. “Try explaining that scientifically.”
Savage stared open-mouthed at her. “Quite.”
“Is the lecture over?” Faith queried. Savage nodded. “Then we’re finished here?”
“It would appear so,” Savage agreed.
“Today’s operation went well. However we have another problem.” Savage placed his hands on his hips, a grim expression on the bronze-haired muscleman’s face. “I have rehabilitated the Nazi agent who hired the assassins, and he reported a plan to kill FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover.”