city_limits Unfinished Business
George Robinson was a 45-year old, struggling businessman with a bad suit and an equally bad haircut. What little hair he had left, that was. He spent more time inside the bar, than outside doing what he should be doing: Working to pay the rent on his shitty apartment that housed his ungrateful wife and his three very ugly children.

Pride of his life, his ass.

His recent beef was not that he was failing miserably as a human being, but with the young upstart of a Slayer who thought she could just take control and rule the roost. Who the hell did she think she was, anyway? Wasn't even old enough to know what real life was about. Who was she to tell him how to look after his business and his neighbourhood?

"Another one, Billy." He knocked his glass back over the bar.

"Don't you think you've had enough, George?"

"Hell, no!" George snorted, rummaging in his pockets for cigarettes. "I'll tell you when I've had enough." He lit up a cigarette and grumbled. "Fucking people thinking they can tell me how to be." He picked up a couple peanuts and shoved them into his mouth. "Fucking Slayer thinks she can tell me how to run my business? How to look after my neighbourhood?! Fuck that."

George downed the next drink and snorted, "She's barely outta' her twenties and she thinks she knows everything, like she's better than me."

"Heh, yeah... Don't they all?"

The woman who had been sitting leisurely back at one nearby table, legs outstretched and boots resting on the opposite chair, drawled out her reply in a tone of voice not too far divorced from sardonic. Head turning, looking up, as the mention of 'Slayer' drifted her way. She was not unclean; no dandruff or the like visible in that curtain of long, dark hair, but her style of clothing was more utilitarian than fashionable. In the absence of buttons, she went for zips and buckles. In place of any would-be leather miniskirt, she wore denim jeans. Not unattractive, no, but while although female, she was certainly rugged. The kind one might expect to encounter making a living from killing alligators and selling their skins.

Not so much fluffy bunny, as coiled rattlesnake.

Descending feet slowly to the floor, Katherine leaned forward, looking every bit the typical smoker, but no cigarette ever graced her hand. Not for personal enjoyment.

"Had a few encounters with those, myself... They the real deal, don't get me wrong. But they can get way out of line real fast. I'm sure they've got high and mighty intentions and all, but... Let's just say these kinds of situations have a way of getting called 'extortion', once they figure they've got the run of the place."

George turned his head and rested a set of heavy eyes on the woman who had just spoken up during his tirade. "Stupid bitch has no idea what she's talking about. Think she's knows what's good for me and mine, but she has no idea. Thinks 'cause she's a Slayer, she's better than all of us."

He ordered another drink and turned to regard the brunette more closely. "Neighbourhood was running just fine before she went sticking her nose into things. Got everybody running after her like worker bees." He flicked ash into the nearby ashtray and took another unhealthy drag, pulling at the tie that had previously constricted his movements. "What the hell has she ever done for me? Fuck all. Stupid Mexican bitch."

Mexican...?

While Katherine had not experienced any sort of significant interaction with a Slayer from there, the image of one with Hispanic ethnicity did come to mind. One who had enough of her shit together, to have amounted to something like a favourite target of opportunity, before Rhiannon took over that particular badge of honour. It was back in Las Vegas, sure and, these days, there were almost enough 'Chosen' girls to make a convincing case for inheriting Israel, but still... She never had found out what became of her. It was always a mystery, as to whether she had simply upped and left or been killed.

It couldn't be... Could it?

The thought of her being one and the same girl might have seemed ridiculous, were it not for having somehow not only twice running into Rhiannon, but discovering a former Watcher was in residence. Perhaps her suspicions about there being a base of operations were correct, after all?

And if so, then...

"Yeah, I think I've heard of her," Katherine lied. "Got a name starting with... 'K'?"

George picked up his beer and nodded his head enthusiastically. "Yeah, Kris! That's her. Can't stand her and the way she walks into those neighbourhood watch meetings like she owns the joint. Thinks owning one building makes her important in the grand scheme of things. Talk about deluded!" He chugged back another mouthful of beer and shoved yet another handful of peanuts into his mouth. "Walks around like she knows everything when in actual fact she knows nothing at all. There was nothing wrong with the neighbourhood until she moved in, until she polluted it with her presence."

A pause.

"What have you heard about her?"

Katherine's mental reaction could best be summed up in a smiling version of, 'Holy fuck,' although refrained from reacting so, for obvious reasons. If this was one and the same Kris, from Las Vegas, then there was not only some old business to be taken care of, but this time, the vampiress would have the advantage of surprise. Kris had been the only one Katherine knew of, to have come close to the kind of challenge Rhiannon provided. Give most human beings a feeling of omnipotence and they could go off the deep end. Kris, though, had seemed 'old school' and just about disciplined enough to try organising something like this.

And, damn... If it was?

"Well, far be it from me to gossip..." Katherine began, making a slow, one-shouldered shrug, as if not caring in the least about who this 'Kris' person was or did. "But there was this time, a while back, in Las Vegas? She kind of went crazy... Y'know, getting off on that whole 'I'm Supergirl' thing? There were rumours she killed a couple of people... I don't know how true that is, but she'd definitely break your arm if you looked at her the wrong way and, hey... Where there's smoke, there's fire, right?"

Because Katherine could be a nasty fuck and knew how getting the local population mad at a target could be used to her advantage. Fuelling whispers about the Slayer could at least make things difficult and human beings could take drastic action, if they ever felt there was a danger to children.

She knew. She was one, herself.

"If you don't mind sharing," the vampiress asked, rubbing throat in contemplation, "exactly what's she up to, around here? You said she owns a building?"

George's eyes widened at the shared revelations from the brunette before he snapped his fingers together. "I knew it! I knew she was crazy but nobody listened to me, everybody thought the sun shone outta' her ass." He shook his head and looked generally quite pleased with himself. "See, I was right! She's trying to worm her way into our community and use it to her own ends." Down went another mouthful of beer, it would be a miracle if he could in fact get himself home later, that evening. "Can't wait to tell the others about this." Chinese whispers and all of that would probably completely twist and empathise the seeds of doubt Katherine had planted which would later grow into acres upon acres of mistrust and discourse.

"She's running some kind of gym," he shared offhand. "For people who wanna' learn how to defend themselves. Total bullshit. I think it's a cover-up for her operations whatever they are, probably working with demons and all sorts to turn our neighbourhood into another Lincoln Park."

"Gee, yeah... Maybe you're right?"

Inside, Katherine was half-way amused by this prime example of just how badly things could get misinterpreted. Outwardly, she had adopted an expression of faux understanding, bordering on the sarcastic. Not that he would realise it. the vampiress was already deciding this had to be for either training Slayers or something close to it. Kris had never struck her as the kind of young woman who wasted her time on pointless enterprises and Slayers never seemed to have the mentality to take up something so mundane as a regular job. She could be mistaken, of course, but if the vampiress planned for the worst, then any improvement would only make things easier.

Katherine enjoyed confrontation, but if there was a way to take Kris by surprise and sink her fangs into the Slayer's neck, then she would take it. Better yet, if she could abduct her for a nice, lengthy torture session, but that was something of secondary important.

She wanted another Slayer kill. That Las Vegas, in its entirety, had ended without one, had rattled Katherine's mental cage. Tasering Jo, had been the nearest she had got to that and the blonde had somehow vanished before she had a chance to get started.

"If y'ask me, considering past history and all, I'd say you're onto something, there. Definitely. Hell, maybe get the authorities involved... Can't hurt to find out if she's got her permits in order, right?" Taking one last swallow of her own beverage, Katherine brushed a hand through hair, finding herself all of a sudden rather nostalgic for those years in Nevada. "In the meantime, what's this place called? Where's it at? I'm thinking I should get a look for myself... Don't much like the thought of her getting a repeat of what went on in Vegas... 'Specially with that little kid."

Looking down, Katherine rose a hand in makeshift apology.

"I, uh... I shouldn't say too much, man. Like I said, I only heard speculation and the, uh... Those TV reporters, you know how they can get things wrong."

And George, like the good little sheep he was, simply allowed himself to be led in all kinds of directions and nodded his head along with Katherine. "Yeah, yeah, you're totally right. Can't see her-" And then he paused, having picked up on the mention of a child. "Little kid? What happened to the little kid?"

He leaned forward, eager for more and he even shuffled that much closer to the woman's table. "I gotta' know more, I have kids, you know? And I see kids coming outta' that gym of hers all the time. Name's Aspire or something dumb like that." He swallowed back another mouthful of beer. "What happened with the kid?"

It always worked, give a little and your prospective target would run with it, especially if they were already that way inclined.

"Something about... I mean, there wasn't any physical evidence to link her way directly and, uh... Yeah, I think a couple of the witnesses disappeared, anyhow. So, maybe they were lying. Strange, though... That happening so quick after and all. Makes you wonder, y'know?"

Katherine was deliberately baiting him, making herself seem not bright enough to put the obvious pieces of her make-believe puzzle together. Letting someone figure out a solution for themselves always gave them a sense of superiority. Sometimes, it was even enough to lead them on a crusade. The rambling gave her enough time to rise to feet, put jacket back on and take her glass back up to the counter. She could work with a venue title, even if the address was a mystery.

Stopping for a moment, she made a face, as if trying to recall some long-lost news article. Eyes rolling up, searching her mental ceiling. In truth, she was just thinking up the most convincing bullshit to smear Kris' social wall with.

"Keep it quiet," she advised, knowing fully well the man had no intention of doing any such thing, "but the story goes the body was... Mauled. You didn't hear this from me, but the boy got tied to a post and she let this pack of attack dogs she'd been training, go in for the kill. Live target practice... Maybe she got drunk? Who knows? Point is, maybe it's not such a great idea waiting to find out. And, hey..." She added, clapping one hand to his shoulder in solidarity. "With a wild card like her, you can always claim self-defence. If you had to, that is..."

With a casual sniff, Katherine slipped on by, heading for the door. Her work here was done. These days, riled up townsfolk tended to charge in with handguns, not pitchforks.

"See y'around, some time..."

[NPC written by Mands.]