Once a marine...

Gen didn’t pay attention to walls or gates any more. Everything was surmountable when you had superpowers. She might not have been fond of all the baggage it came with, but she was going to enjoy the extra agility, strength and dexterity. It allowed her to break the lock on the cemetery gate with relative ease, just as she had done the last time she’d seen Hilarie. It was a bit of a waste but hopping the fence wasn’t quite as easy for Simon as it was for her, and she didn’t have half the patience required to pick the lock, even though he often tried to teach her. It gave Gen a strange, guilty feeling that she was meeting Hilarie; the assassin, or whatever she was, in the shadow of her miother’s house, in secret, in the dead of night. Her better judgement had told her that it would be better not to go alone, at least, and who knew? Maybe the two of them would bond like old army pals or something. Simon was far more likely to set Hilarie at ease than Penelope was. They had similar manners. Every fibre of Gen’s body was on high alert as she glanced around for the blonde woman. Being caught in a London cemetery with a satchel full of weapons when the city was on high alert wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. This part of London had been mostly quiet, but that could all change in an instant when you lived on the Hellmouth.

Simon didn’t like this one bit. But there’d be a bigger shit storm if Gen snuck off to meet some assassin woman who toted firearms, didn’t know jack about vampires, and supposedly only killed bad guys. A nice assassin. Sure. His face was set in a harder frown than ususal as he followed her into the cemetery. If this woman didn’t show herself soon, he’d make sure they packed up and headed back. Didn’t want to think about what would happen if Lady Fairfax noticed they were missing.

Hilarie entered the Highgate Cemetery through the busted out front gate with her fingers itching. They were missing the reassuring weight of her trusted sidearm, which was currently tucked safely away into a shoulder holster, just like it had been since she’d gotten Gen’s message. She wasn’t exactly sure what the slayer was planning, but it felt nice to have it there - even if it probably wouldn’t be of much use. It was a fail safe. Used as a ‘just in case,’ if everything else went wrong. Maybe someone might call that over prepared, but Hilarie had always liked to have options. It might not kill a vampire, but it would sure slow one down and she had no idea what a ball of metal moving at 400 m/s would do to a demon. She kind of wanted to find out. She was just getting ready to move deeper into the cemetery to silently look for Gen when she saw long brown hair and let out something that could have almost been called a grin. At least she wasn’t going to have to wander around the cemetery all night she thought with relief. Then she saw short ashy blond hair move into view as she started to walk forward. Hilarie drew up short - hesitating by a row of weathered gravestones. ‘Friend or foe,’ she wondered silently, waiting for Gen to spot her before she moved forward.

Gen was sometimes enviable of the heightened senses and can see in the dark aspect of vampirism. Whatever gifts she had, that wasn’t one of them. She just hoped the woman would be clever enough not to go firing a gun at everything in sight. The last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves when everything from their jobs to the weapons they carried were illegal, and people knew it. You didn’t need to have vampire hearing to know the sound of gunfire. She looked around in the darkness, instinct causing her to stiffen when she sensed movement. That happened with almost everyone, these days. It wasn’t easy to tell who was on their side any more. “I was worried you’d be held up,” Gen said with a sigh, walking towards Hilarie. “The tubes are hard enough to work out for newcomers without adding demon riots and half a dozen closed stations.”

Simon stepped up, matching stride with Gen. If this woman was even thinking about trying to pull something, she’d have to deal with both of them. He nodded at her in greeting.

Hilarie started to move forward cautiously once Gen began talking, keeping her eyes locked on the man that was standing beside her. The way they moved together - how unconcerned Gen was that her back was facing the older man told her he wasn’t an enemy. The way he was standing suggested bodyguard, or at least back up. There case Hilarie tried something, most likely. She couldn’t blame them. If she’d had any of her military buddies in the country, she’d of probably brought someone along too. She couldn’t imagine someone who moved like Gen did needing back up in a fight, but she guessed it never hurt to be cautious. Hilarie nodded silently to his less than enthusiastic greeting. She re-evaluated and added ‘probably ex-military’ to her estimation of him. It was a shame she knew next to nothing about how the British Armed forces worked. “I ended up jogging here,” she admitted. “Couldn’t figure out which stations were closed and which weren’t. I’m also pretty sure theres some form of barricade a couple blocks from here. Didn’t get a good look - figured it was better to go around the long way, but I’m pretty sure the only thing the government is scaring away is the neighbors.” She paused for a second, unconsciously straightening like she had hundred of times before when the orders ‘report’ were barked from a superior officer and added “Supposed this is the part where I say ‘thanks for waiting’ and introduce myself. I’m Hilarie - but I’m assuming Genevieve’s already told you that, and more besides. Which makes it look like I’m working at a disadvantage - because I don’t have the first clue who you are. And I don’t like working at a disadvantage if I can help it. ”

Gen sighed. That was excellent. The barricades were moving closer. She still hadn’t been back to school. The fact one of her classmates had been murdered by a teacher seemed like a good enough reason for it not to be suspicious, but how long until people began to wonder what happened to that strange girl who knew too much in mythology class? “That’s not good,” she said, glancing outward as though she’d be able to see a bloody thing through all the trees anyway. The cemetery was practically a park and forest combined. She heard her name and snapped back. The two of them were already bickering. Great. “He’s Simon. And he goes where I go.”

Simon stiffly offered his hand to shake. “Former MI-5,” he said. He could see the question forming in her mind as she looked him over. If Gen hadn’t mentioned the military thing, he’d have been thinking it about her too. “Nice to meet you, Hilarie. The assassin thing pay well? Gotta know. Finding a good job’s a tough business.”

Hilarie said “Right,” to Gen’s introduction, her face impassive. She was still not entirely happy with the fact that she had been sprung with the idea that not only someone she didn’t know not only would be present, but apparently knew a lot more than she was comfortable with anyone knowing about her - let alone a stranger; but was unwilling to alienate Gen further by arguing about it. She’d play nice until he stopped. If that happened all bets were off, but until then Hilarie was content with the little she had gleamed about him through observation. Or, she would have been if halfway through their hand shake she didn’t hear “the assassin thing pay well?” Hilarie tightened her grip harder than she would have normally - not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to feel it and let out a grin that could have chipped flint. “Better than bodyguard, I reckon. Shit for health benefits though.” As she let her hand drop she took a calming inhale of hair, pulling her anger that someone she didn’t know or trust at all knew about her profession under her skin. “I’m guessing you didn’t decide meet up all the way in this broken down cemetery to exchange pleasantries - not that I don’t love shooting the shit,” Hilarie finally said, eyes still hard. “Mind cluing the girl late to the party in on the game plan?”

Gen got the feeling the two of them could argue all night. Better than the bodyguard gig. It was hard not to chuckle. “Actually, he drives a Bentley,” Gen shrugged. She left out the part where it was technically Penelope’s car. “And the private sector pays better than you think when your employers have a Ladyship.” She thought it would help, make her look tough or something. She wasn’t going to be a wilting wallflower around a woman who carried a gun and wasn’t afraid to use it. People like Hilarie, they probably appreciated people who stood up for themselves. Anyway, she added a small grin and eyebrow raise to lessen the tone. All in good fun. Even if it wasn’t. They were sizing one another up, like animals in a bear pit. “Highgate is one of the most haunted cemeteries in Britain,” she explained as they moved through the overgrown grounds. “And huge. It’s a popular spot for demon and vampire activity. We look for them, we kill them. Do you have a weapon?”

Simon bit back his grin so it only showed a little. He liked seeing Gen take charge, and he liked the idea of seeing this Hilarie try and pick up staking vamps a little too.

Hilarie ignored the small grin that played at the corners of Simons mouth as Gen talked. She got the sense that for him, that was just about as expressive as sticking your tongue out would have been for someone else. He didn’t look like the emotive type. Especially around strangers. “You know, somehow the idea that a shadowy organization who only just now came out to the public because their hand was forced has old money backing isn’t incredibly reassuring,” she said, a wry grin softening the words. After all, it’s not really like she could throw stones, now could she? With that thought in mind she didn’t ask more about whoever ‘her ladyship’ was. She’d find out more in good time she was sure, and the last thing she wanted to do was to get Gen to realize how much she was revealing about her organization and clam up. Because Hilarie was very curious about exactly who or what organized something like the slayers. Especially because it so obviously went far beyond the government British government. If she had to guess, she’d say it was a global organization, not tied down to just England, or even Europe. She might not be following the news religiously, but she was tracking anything that had to do with anything that mentioned the supernatural, and she’d followed the press release after that woman from the Watchers Council had been arrested rather thoroughly. “Haunted? As in ghosts?” She added as Gen finished, resisting the rather strong urge to scoff. When you got tangible proof that something like vampires were real, it was suddenly a lot harder to discredit other things that went bump in the night - no matter how much the inner atheist in her wanted to mutter “I draw the line at invisible dead people’. “Yeah, I got a few.” Hilarie said, brightening up at the prospect of watching Gen in action again. “Even brought a stake - not that I’m saying I’ll be any good with it, but hey, at least I’m willing to try new things.”

Gen ignored the little jab about her mother’s company. It still was, wasn’t it? Her mother’s? She refused to accept it as anything but. She mentally kicked herself for how protective her thoughts were, even now that she didn’t want to follow Penelope into the watcher business. She didn’t know if she even could any more, or if it would be torn apart and they’d all have to start from scratch, become even more secretive, or become a strange metahuman police force. Everything was up in the air and she didn’t have enough hands to catch all the balls that were falling. “Ghosts are real but I think most of Highgate’s hauntings are people mistaking other things for ghosts. Vampires, demons and such.” The grass was wet beneath her feet. The air smelled of damp and old leaves. It went very well alongside the crumbling tombstones and angel statues. “Stakes are easy. You just jab, hard, at the heart. We’ll make a round, and circle back to the piano grave. It might be better to stay together on a night like this.”

Simon took out his crossbow and nodded for Gen to move forwards. “You’re the boss,” he grinned.

Hilarie had to smile a little at how easy Gen made it all sound. “Last I remember the breast bone is made of some pretty hard stuff,” she said as she fell into step with Gen, flanking her slightly on the opposite side that Simon was walking on. “And positioning someone so you can impale deep enough through the back or the side to hit internal organs, let alone get to the heart, is, quite frankly a bitch.” She was silent for a moment, listening for the muted sounds of someone else making their way through the abandoned cemetery (not that it would have been easy to hear, three people walking in a clump, no matter how quiet their footfalls were, tended to erase all of the smaller noises around them). “Didn’t you mention something about decapitation working?”

Gen gave Hilarie a long look as they walked before turning her eyes back to the path ahead. “It was never that difficult for me; the physical side of it, anyway. Emotionally is another matter.” Although, the whole thing was probably far more complex if you didn’t have preternatural instinct and super strength going for you. “Decapitation,” Gen nodded, “or fire, or sunlight. Crossbows with wooden bolts work fine and there was talk about inventing wooden bullets but I don’t know what happened with that.”

Simon shook his head, “Wood splinters and collapses, almost impossible to get the balance right.” He looked over at Hilarie and nodded at her stake. “Gimmie a holler if you need another set of hands.”

Hilarie let out a rueful grin as Gen talked but kept her eyes looking forward, sweeping for movement in between the gravestones they passed. “Trust me when tell you if it’s hard for me to do, it’s hard for anybody to do.” “Well -” she amended after a second, “anyone without superpowers anyways.” She didn’t add that she hadn’t thought to bring an axe for decapitations, but she figured that was pretty self-evident. She knew she would have been able to incapacitate a regular human armed with just a sliver of wood, but she didn’t know exactly how strong vampires were. Probably significantly stronger than your average Joe, if slayer strength was anything to go by - and while she still liked her chances, she didn’t know how all of this worked yet. The last thing she wanted to have happen was to successfully take down her first vamp and then get a ‘oh, surprise, you got bitten - we gotta kill you before you turn into the undead!’ Hilarie weighed her options more as they walked further into the graveyard, listening to the quiet stomp of three sets of feet for an undefinable amount of time before she finally said “We’re not going to be able to sneak up on anything grouped together like this. I can lead one to you if I go ahead.”

Gen arched a half-impressed, half-skeptical eyebrow. “You want to play the role of bait?” She shrugged. If Hilarie had intended them harm, she’d probably have made that clear by now. The changing world climate around them had made half the demon population paranoid and half of them bolder. She supposed that was the way of all things. “Be my guest.”

Hilarie nodded silently, something wild and feral lighting up her eyes and coursing adrenalin through her bloodstream; making her nerves sing. She’d always loved battle highs. They were like nothing else. You had to be careful while you were on one though - make sure you didn’t get reckless. There was a difference between throwing yourself into something and being suicidal. Hilarie tried to aim away from being suicidal. It was with that thought in mind that Hilarie started moving forward and to the side, putting distance between herself and the steady sound of feet moving in a circle around the outskirt of the cemetery. She slipped a large knife out of a thigh holster and shoved it up her sleeve, letting the tip just rest on her extended palm. She stayed low until she was a good distance away from Gen and her wisecracking companion and then straightened and started humming to herself, hunching her shoulders and trying to look as much like prey as possible. It wasn’t long before her acting paid off. Maybe a little too well as it turned out, because not five minutes after she had separated from Gen and Simon she almost barreled straight into three very ugly, very distinctly not human shapes arguing over a partially exposed coffin. She let her eyes go wide in fear that was only partially faked and stood still just long enough to make sure they were going to go after her before booking it back the way she had came, letting the knife slip comfortably into her open hand as she ran.

Gen listened to the sound of frosted grass crunching under Hilarie’s feet. She made herself super aware on nights like this. It was only a few months earlier that this would have seemed like a nightmare, going out in a graveyard with an assassin, killing things. In some ways, it still did, but the power that came with it made her feel… safe. It was an oxymoron, she knew, safe in a battlefield, but sometimes Gen just needed to feel control at her fingertips. It came from killing vampires, from saving lives. Every one that turned to dust was fewer casualties, maybe dozens over the course of a lifespan. It barely took any time before Hilarie came sprinting back down the path, and Gen nodded at Simon. He was already whipping out his crossbow, ready to aim. She reached across her shoulder for the short sword Penelope had gifted her. Her father’s, she had said. Now it was hers. When the crossbow bolt from Simon’s weapon turned one to dust, the others froze. They had been expecting an easy kill, one stupid lonesome woman, not a miniature army. “One each,” Gen growled at Hilarie, already advancing. “Think you can handle that?” She changed so much during the fight, sometimes she barely recognized herself. She was a far cry from the girl who dressed Maria up in santa hands and sunglasses. She was a predator. It was scary, how good it felt.

Hilarie nodded, not bothering to look and see if Gen saw or not, and started circling one of the vampires that Simon hadn’t taken out. She trusted the younger woman to get with the program. She had no idea what Gen was doing with the other monster, but she knew she’d get the job done. It took getting tossed over a gravestone like she was a sack of kindling the second she made contact with the man in front of her for her to remember ‘super strength, right,’ the realization making it’s impact as her head met hard packed dirt. The burning in her shoulder meant she would have a nasty bruise tomorrow, but nothing felt sprained or broken. Wincing she stayed on her back long enough to slam out hard with her foot, snapping the vampires knee to the side with a sickening crunch and then ramming her fist upward into his exposed bottom jaw as he fell forward on top of her, trapping it shut before he could do anything other than leer sickeningly. She then took the stake out of her pocket (the knife she had been carrying had been lost somewhere in the flight over the gravestone), and rammed it into his exposed side. She saw his eyes widen in in shock before he let out an all too human sounding hiss and grabbed her windpipe, his fingers tightening like steel cables. “Missed,” Hilarie thought distractedly, entirely focused on using all the energy left in her body to swing her arm up once again and bury it in his side. This time the angle was right, and while it didn’t come close to sliding in like butter, it got the job done. She stayed on the ground, panting through a cloud of dust, massaging her bruised throat and really hoping Gen had taken out that last vampire because she didn’t think she was up to fighting anything for a good long while.

The world disappeared when you were fighting. Awareness of your surroundings was an important aspect of training but it was near impossible to have senses in every corner of the fight at once. Gen heard the sound of grunting and scuffling. She lifted her sword, long hours of training evident in the ease with which she wielded it. She wouldn’t be undone by this beast nor by any government system. She would be a victim no more, nobody’s property, and nobody’s inferior. This was her mother’s sword, and her father’s before her. She was a Fairfax. She was a Savidge. And they wouldn’t beat her down. She ducked under a nasty right cross, swinging the sword to create a long gash across the vampire’s back. It whined, so loudly that Gen was sure it would have alerted the whole damn cemetery, but her blow slowed its next attack and she sliced through its thick neck, shielding her eyes from the dust as it disintegrated before her eyes. Instinctively, her gaze turned to Hilarie. She had her own scuffle going on, slower and more unbalanced thanks to the lack of supernatural ability on Hilarie’s side, but she had other training. It was obvious in her movements. She hung back, prepared to rush in if need be, but not looking to wound Hilarie’s pride for no reason. She wasn’t needed. Hilarie took a bruising, but she got it done. “Are you hurt?” Gen asked, sheathing her sword and rushing to Hilarie’s side.

Simon felt his phone vibrate. He stepped away from the fray, out of earshot of any grunting and dusting. It was Lady Fairfax. He hadn’t been on the line for five seconds before his blood went cold. Heavy breathing. Panicked. Frantic. The words came out of gasps, where was Gen, she wasn’t in her room, it was the Third Reich all over again, she wasn’t home, had she gone out? “She’s with me, ma’am,” he said, as reassuringly as possible. “We went out yeah. She started feeling cooped up, you know it goes.” That didn’t seem to make her feel better. “I’ll bring her in. What’s the situation?” He nearly crushed the phone in his hand when she told him. “Gen!” he called. “We gotta go home. The world just got a lot worse.”

“I’m starting to get that,” Hilarie replied, her ass still firmly planted on the damp headstone. She didn’t add anything else. She didn’t need to. She figured Gen would get what she wasn’t saying.

She was still staring blankly at a row of abandoned looking graves, mind racing - evaluating every interaction she’d ever had, trying to determine exactly how much of her world was now tilted on it’s axis when Gen said “[...] there’s your proof, I suppose. You wanted it. [...] I’m sorry. It is what it is.”

That got Hilaries head out of the dirt quick.

She let out a rueful shrug with a self deprecating smile attached as she slid off the cold marble, landing with her feet planted firmly on the ground. “Everything always is.” She said cryptically; thinking about a time and place far removed from here - thinking about hot dry air and someone bleeding out in her arms.

She stood ramrod straight, as if supported by metal - knees locked, hands folded against the small of her back, and watched Gen leave the cemetery. She didn’t say goodbye. She didn't wave, or call out to try to get the younger woman to stay longer. To answer more questions. And for her part, Gen didn’t look back.

Hilarie needed to sort things out. And to do that she needed to be alone.

She had a rifle calling her name five blocks away, and a phone call to make.

She’d need to talk to Gen eventually, but she knew how to find her when it came to that. She’d deal with it when she could. After she got her head straight.

As she left the cemetery she pulled out the same small disposable phone she had used earlier that night. For his part, Mike hadn’t tried to call her back. They’d worked together long enough that he trusted if she said it couldn’t be done, it couldn’t be done. She only hoped he hadn’t called the client yet to let them know.

“No body means no proof. Also means you’re stuck with me for a little while longer.”

Gen had started to move as soon as Hilarie was out of the building, but she didn't mind. She fell in step behind the younger woman, aiming her response at the back of her head. She was all for efficiency after all. All she needed was proof her target was neutralized, then they could go their separate ways.

Hilarie purposefully wasn’t thinking about what ‘proof’ would mean. What it would force her to reevaluate. She’d always been good at compartmentalizing, and being faced with the idea that the supernatural was real didn’t change that. She dealt with what she could in the moment and left the rest to either solve later, or, bury deep enough that it only popped up when she was dreaming. Right now she focused on priority one. Take out a potential threat. She could have a existential crisis later. Or, ideally - never.

Hilarie kept pace easily as they walked, silently marking down every turn they made - keeping her eyes swiveling through the shadows to mark potential threats. She doubted that Gen was the type of girl to lead someone into an ambush, but she’d been wrong about a persons character before. And you stayed alive by being paranoid.

As it was, they ended up just passed a couple of average looking street thugs. Which was typical for the time of night it was and the area they were in. Hilarie gave them a wide smile and a polite head dip as they passed. Seeing people in the places they were supposed to be comforted her. Even if those people happened to be a couple of gang bangers.  It meant they hadn’t been spooked by something else.

When they reached their destination it took all of Hilaries willpower not to mutter ‘I should have known’ under her breath.

She couldn’t quite hold back the quick incredulous look she sent up heavenward though. “Cemetery, huh?” she said, turning to give Gen a side eyed look before jumping forward as the younger woman said ‘showtime,’ pulled out a knife and ran it quickly over her exposed forearm. Shit. Maybe Genevieve wasn’t as stable as Hilarie had initially thought.

“What do you think your-” Hilarie started to exclaim only to cut herself off as a warped, but human sounding roar echoed through the cemetery. She had enough time to get her guns safety off but not enough to come even close to aiming before a 180 pound plus man with the same distorted face her target had sported after she shot him through the skull came barreling into them, ignoring Hilarie completely and launching himself at Gen.

What came next couldn’t have been more surprising to Hilarie than if her entire platoon had jumped out from behind the gravestones around them, yelled ‘april fools!’ and then took them out for a round of drinks.

Hilarie watched Gen take a man down that was easily twice her size like he was nothing. Hilarie liked to think of herself as a pretty good fighter. She had to be, in the profession she was in. Gen was an artist. There was no other way to describe her. Hilarie had enough time to realize her gun would be useless, unless she wanted to accidentally shoot Gen while trying to help before it was over and Hilarie was staring in shock at a man disintegrating before her eyes.

She blinked for a couple seconds before saying “damn” in an impressed voice.

“Guess you were being nice before, not kicking my ass huh?” She finally said voice full of open admiration. “You might even be fast enough to dodge a bullet.”

Then the shock started to wear off and Hilarie realized exactly what this meant.

Fine, so eight AM wasn’t exactly the crack of dawn to most people. But to a vampire it was the equivalent of three in the morning. Granted, who the hell knew what his sleeping schedule resembled anymore. Patrolling at night, helping out here during the day, he slept whenever he had a free minute. And encouraged Buffy to do the same to much protest. 

Still, it was on him to work early today, make sure everything was opened up, ready to go. Buffy had a one on one session as soon as doors opened so the day to day stuff was up to him. Normally the first hour was pretty quiet, sometimes a straight snooze fest. Clearly he was in the majority here of not liking mornings. And beyond that, some people had their own nine to five jobs. 

The few that had trickled in had gotten there a few minutes early for their class with Debbie. Yoga. Of course they weren’t at a nine to five. Somehow Debbie attracted the very very hippie free spirit crowd. Well, then again, one look at her explained why. Nevermind, though, Spike wasn’t about to argue with business. Extra income wasn’t something to turn your nose up at. Anya would surely scold him if he did and she didn’t even work here. 

He wandered through the currently empty first floor. The place looked put together for the moment, so nothing to straighten up. He didn’t have any classes or sessions to train at the moment. And like hell he was going to work on cleaning the bathroom. Already had to take care of the ones upstairs. Yeah, leave that to Cody when he got in a few minutes from now. Spike could wipe down the machines while he did that instead. But for the moment, that left him with a bit of paperwork. Not his favorite. But had to be done. So with a sigh, he headed to the front desk to grab the few things he had to work on from yesterday. 

It was a few after the hour. Those going to class were there already and Buffy’s private had shown up early as well. So Spike was a little thrown to see the woman standing there at the front desk when he turned the corner. Rather stiffly, too. Very military by the looks of it. 

“Hey,” he called as he walked over to the counter. Figured it was best to give her a heads up someone was around, looked pretty absorbed in the pictures and what have you decorating the back wall. “Looking for anything in particular? Or anyone? Or are you just here to appreciate Buffy’s scrapbook collection on the wall there?” She really had gone to town with the pictures, had to admit. 

Billy Idol impersonators weren’t what you would call the average these days.

“Looking for anything in particular? Or anyone? Or are you just here to appreciate Buffy’s scrapbook collection on the wall there?” the bleached blond asked as he approached the counter. Hilarie let out a quick smile that was at odds with her stance as she did a half turn to face him, her movements military sharp before she consciously forced her body to relax.

If she was in a new environment she inadvertently went back to status quo, never mind that it had been over a year since she had been honorably discharged. She’d been working in her posturing, but it was so much easier to be conscious of how she needed to appear when she was on a job. Probably because it was a liability at it’s best and a pretty big damn giveaway at its worst. Still, when something startled her her first instinct was to go back to that training. Reflex, drilled into her through two tours of combat.

She slumped her shoulders and stuffed her hands into her pockets, a quick cheat to keep her posture from reverting.

“Buffy’s your wife right?” She asked as she took a hand out of her jeans and reached over to give Spike a firm handshake. “You two co-own the gym together?”

She jerked her chin towards the row of pictures. “Other trainers or just friends?” She asked before shoving the tops of her fingers back in her pocket and bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, excited energy making her practically vibrate. She’d forgotten how much she missed having a space to train. And now that she was here - now that she could see mats and pads and heavy bags, she realized how much she needed this. How much her irritability was due to feeling trapped in the hotel room she was currently calling home base. Admittedly, it was a very nice hotel room - being a gun for hire had its advantages, but it was still just a room. And Hilarie had never done well in rooms.

“Sorry, got a little ahead of myself. We talked earlier this week online.You mentioned this place.” She paused and then added “I’m Davis - shit with introductions, remember?” as she gave him a quick once over. He was spry - athletic by the look of it. Long muscles on a compact frame. Clearly not someone who worked out for the fun of it. And the little glint in his eye along with the ease that he held himself told her he was more than well versed in martial arts.

No, definitely not a muscle head.

If he was serious about giving sparing a test drive, it looked like it would be a good time.

You guys take out the trash. You're like me - you just don't have the added bonus of getting paid for it.

 “You’re not calling me sunshine,” Bambi could practically taste the venom dripping off her tongue and his response was to grin brightly at her, as if he was delighted by her reaction. He wasn’t thrilled, per say; it was much easier when the ladies practically fell into his lap without him not doing much more than tossing them a line or two. He did occasionally enjoy earning a girl’s attention though, instead of just getting, and he felt like he was doing that with Hilarie. She was continuously responding to what he said; even if it was a negative reaction, it was still a reaction, and he loved it. 

 “Even though you’re not really acting as you might expect someone nicknamed ‘sunshine’, I’m going to call you sunshine … sunshine.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her as he was trying to antagonize her, or at the very least, continue holding her attention. He would tone it down a little if she actually joined him for a drink where they would sit together, but at the moment he didn’t see the problem if he had to annoy her into making that happened. He was aware that he was being more than annoying to her – and most likely everyone else in the bar - at the moment, but it seemed his best option to capture her attention.

He rested his head down on the bar top as if he was about to go for a snooze, but the devilish grin on his face suggested he was just getting his night started, and his eyes held curiosity as he studied her facial expressions while she stared up at the ceiling. He wondered what she would do next, and as she threw herself out of her seat and marched over to him he half-expected for her to smash the nearest bottle over his head. That possibility caused him to lose his grin, and normally he would have at least braced himself for a possible attack, but in his current state he only responded by raising his hand to order another drink, his eyes never leaving Hilarie. 

A cocky smirk spread across his lips as she bluntly laid out her terms and conditions for the evening. Maybe what she was saying didn’t sound like much to smile about to another person; she was firmly rejecting the idea of him sleeping with her. Banging her was his original intention, but even while she dismissed the possibility, he could still see it happening.

After all, he doubted that she had any plans to sit with him originally. Yet here she was, in the chair across from him. That alone was enough to make him straighten up from his slouch, and after taking a small sip from his new drink the bartender had left while Hilarie had been giving him the low-down on how she wanted the evening to go (or could at least force herself to sit through), he nodded sharply. “Yes Ma’am.” His voice was of a normal speaking level again, his words loud enough for only her to hear instead of the entire bar.

Despite being shut down, it seemed the grin on his face had been stitched on and had no plans to go away any time soon. He had successfully annoyed her into sitting with him, and he had no plans to continue shouting and especially force himself onto her. No, by the end of the night, she would equally want him, he was sure of it. Now that he didn’t have to badger her, he could attempt to charm her. He turned on his stool, his body now facing her completely. His left hand rested on the bar for support and comfort, but it was obvious she held all of his attention, whether she wanted it or not.

It wasn't like this was Hilaries first time dealing with someone that wouldn't take no for an answer. She used to get mad, way back when. Used to want to make people respect her. Used to need it.

Now she knew better.

Knew to slip in, gentle as a lamb and wait until her prey showed their underbelly before opening up her wolfs mouth and swallowing them whole. Gender equality in the army was - well. Lets just say being a girl meant you had to earn your spot on the team. Hilarie used to think being on the team was important. Now? Now you'd be lucky to get out without getting knocked on your ass if you tried making her earn anything. Hilarie didn't join teams.

She might collaborate now and again, but she was her own player. And she made the rules.

She came out to relax, and that's what she was damn well going to do. If he tried anything she didn't like, he'd regret it. Until then, she was going to sit down, drink her drink and then hopefully go home and have the first restful sleep she'd had in months. She didn't go out to bars often for that exact reason, which was what made tonight special. She saw how easy it would be to rely on it. To not be able to function without it. 

And an alcoholic assassin wasn't good for anyone involved.

“Can I get a name yet, doll?” her suitor asked in a voice so silky sweet it was comical.

God, she had no idea. Gen stared at her, not angrily, but far from comfortable. There was a hint of amusement in her green eyes that smoke of the things she knew that Hilarie did not; that Gen was a slayer and that she could knock Hilarie’s lights out without even pausing for breath, but she wouldn’t. Not unless Hilarie struck first. “I don’t take kindly to being threatened with firearms,” Gen said, her voice ever so slightly stubborn, but laced with just enough playful humor to diffuse the heightened tension of the situation. “Don’t go for me, and I won’t go for you. You don’t know me well enough to know why I mean that, but know that I do.” It was a loose agreement, and of little comfort to her when the woman hadn’t done anything as of yet to prove she could be trusted, but it was the best they were going to get.

They jostled, between commending one another and being offended by one another. Gen got Hilarie’s defences up when she had asked how Hilarie /knew/ the people were dangerous, and she didn’t get a real answer. That wasn’t the hardest part, though. The hardest part was Hilarie’s reaction to everything Gen knew to be fact. The soul matter, for one.

“I didn’t sign up for a theology lesson kid. I didn’t believe in the concept of a soul long way before I moved to London and I don’t plan on startin’ anytime soon. Humans have always been pieces of shit and there always gonna be pieces of shit. That’s just life.”

"You asked me to take the twenty-four hour surveillance thing at your word, now it’s your turn," she said, her voice firm and her stiff boy language reflecting their emotion, their meaning. "This is what I do. There’s such thing as a soul. It doesn’t make you automatically good, but it gives you the capacity for moral decision making. Humans have it. Vampires don’t. Some humans don’t use theirs, but they /could/. Vampires couldn’t, even if they tried. And most of them wouldn’t want to. That’s the difference." She didn’t add ‘either you can accept my word on the matter or you can shut up’, but it was more than a tad implied. As soon as they got over that hurdle, though, they found another. No body. Hilarie wanted to see it, and it wasn’t there.

“So, let me get this straight” she said unbelievingly. “You can’t show me his body… because he turned into dirt.”

"Dust. Ash. But yes."

”Right. Well, not that ‘dirt’ isn’t a compelling argument, but I think I’m going to need a little bit more to go on than that.”

Gen rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Do you want to go and look? Because nobody else has come out of this building, and I haven’t had time to hide the body. It’s not there. Check if you want, but I’m going.”

You spend enough time in hostile environments, you learn how to read a threat pretty quick. You trusted what your instincts told you, and Hilaries instincts were saying that Gen was confident she could take her; but wouldn't try unless it was a last resort. False confidence worked in Hilaries favor if it came down to a fight, but she sure would like to know where someone who had just seen Hilaries bullet slam through a skull got it. You normally got that kind of false bravo from men with something to prove - all big muscles and secretly terrified of the dark. Not willowy young girls who looked like they should be taking a college art class instead of walking through London after nightfall.

Nothing about Gen said military, government or any kind of special ops.

It was a puzzle, a little itch in the back of Hilaries head; something that was begging to be solved. Hilarie was well versed in patience though. Sitting with your thumb up your ass for 12 hour stretches in the desert taught a girl self restraint. She'd learned a long time ago you got more if you watched and waited than asked out right. People either gave you a warped version of the truth or they outright lied. It was human nature, as reliable as the sun coming up every morning. Even the people that genuinely tried to be honest lied to you. Everyone has an idea about how they are in the world that they can't quite let go of, good or bad, and if you're not careful you'll start believing it to. She'd just have to figure Gen out as she went, like she always did.

Watch and wait to see what the puzzle pieces looked like as a functioning whole.

Then Gen started talking about human morality and what a having a soul meant and Hilarie added 'unresolved guilt' to her invisible map of what made Genvieve who she was. "You're the expert," Hilarie said with a shrug. No point in arguing religion. Out of all the irrational things people clung to, religion was at the top of the list. It was the one that people had the hardest time letting go of; in spite of, or sometimes because of all evidence to the contrary.

She wondered if Gen would still believe in the idea of the soul if she'd seen some of the things Hilarie had seen people do to each other.

If she'd seen some of the things Hilarie had done.

Still. If a delusion was what you needed to get yourself through the day, Hilarie wasn't going to take it from you. The saying 'there's no atheists in foxholes'? Well, Hilarie had learned that wasn't quite true. The truth sounded more like 'everyone hates the asshole that takes someone's last shred of hope away before they get blown sky high, so shut the hell up about how we all spend the rest of eternity six feet under and let the guy that's bleeding out in the next tent over and knows hes not gonna make it talk about all the relatives he's going to see when he gets to heaven in peace'. Not quite as catchy, but then again, the truth rarely was.

"Do you want to go and look? Because nobody else has come out of this building, and I haven’t had time to hide the body. It’s not there. Check if you want, but I’m going."

Hilarie glared indecisively at the building; listening to the quiet clacking of Gen sending a text message on her phone, resisting the urge to ask who she was talking to and why (no point, people lied and it would just alienate the younger woman further - if it was something important Hilarie would probably wind up finding out sooner than later anways), weighing her options, hesitating for a moment before she made up her mind and said "Not that I don't trust you, but I'm not leaving something like that up to chance" and darted in to the musty interior without a backward glance. Her gun and flashlight were extended but she was checking every room with enough speed that if Genieve made a dash for it she'd only have a minute or so head start. Besides, what the younger woman had said was true enough. Dead weight was a bitch, and unless the (un)dead man had taken off at a sprint; he'd be laying where he'd fallen or not at all. Even with a fireman's carry Hilarie doubted she'd of been able to move him in the time Gen had had to relocate the body. And that wasn't including the time it would have taken to kill him first.

1 minute and 15 seconds later and and there was no body.

I can handle a crowd.