SLAYERS: THREE OF A KIND

Chapter I - Ante Up

New York City, one week ago...

"What kind of name is Ariel anyway? Were both your parents smoking weed when they were watchin Beauty and the Beast, or somethin?"

The girl stared out the passenger-side window of the silver SUV as it hurtled through the driving downpour. Her hazel eyes traced a thick beading water drop, watching morosely as it flowed down and intersected with another silver strand. They mingled, became one, and for a long moment they flowed together in a single, unified thread. Then a rocketing raindrop blasted them into oblivion. She sighed and turned away, "The Little Mermaid."

"Huh?" asked the college boy, his biceps straining against his wine-and-gold letter-man's jacket, "Little what?"

"Little Mermaid." she said once more, her wispy voice undulating between the rattle of the heavy rain upon the roof of the racing four-by-four, "Ariel isn't in Beauty and the Beast. That's Belle."

"Heh, right, whatever. I always mix Disney movies up anyway."

"Disney?"

"Hey, here we are." the jock swung the wheel to the left and they exited the freeway and flew down a drenched side-street.

"Do you have to drive so fast?"

The quarterback grinned as he whipped to the right onto another street, "Goin' slow is for pussies. I always go as fast as possible."

"Don't you all." she mumbled.

"What'd you say?"

She sat up straighter and looked over at him with those doe eyes he'd fallen for the moment he'd seen her at the club, "I thought you said you had the perfect spot to look at the water."

He reached over and squeezed her bare knee, "Almost there, babe, don't get your thong in a bunch."

What a freeze-dried moron, Ariel thought in disgust. She fought not to puke and instead ran her fingers up his thigh, "Then hurry up, stud, or I'll lose interest." she purred.

His eyes nearly popped out of his sockets. Or maybe not his eyes. He nodded emphatically and swung them down a narrow alleyway. A moment later they were through and bouncing across gravel, then dirt. Old shipping containers towered on all a sides, casting Gothic shadows in the now lessening downpour. Chip, that was his name to Ariel's internal disgust, hit the brakes and his truck-car? I don't know what the heck these ugly things actually are, she brooded. Whatever the gas-wasting vehicle was, it stopped with a squeal, an inch from the planked end of a rising dock.

Ariel peered out past the sliding windshield wipers and her eyes widened, "Damn, you weren't lying. This IS a good view." all of New York Harbor was laid out before her, illuminated by the glowing night-lights of Staten Island, "It's beautiful." she breathed.

Chip slid across the leather seats and roped a thick arm around her narrow shoulders, "It certainly is, babe. Bee-you-tee-FULL."

Ye gods, she blanched, kill me now...

But she remained still as he buried his face in her shoulder-length curly-blonde hair and munched on her earlobe. His free hand wasn't free for long, it slid to her waist, then down past her short pleated skirt. Then back up under her short pleated skirt. Ariel waited until he was tugging at her underwear, then spun toward him in a rush.

Chip gasped, she moved so fast! Now she was straddling his lap and her arms were about his neck and she was looking deep into his eyes, breathing harder then even he was. Oh yeah! She's hornier then I thought! Pay dirt, boy, pay dirt! Just like Dad used to say: drive a big truck and you will get-

"Do you love me?" she suddenly asked, in that 'bend-me-over-please' whispery voice of hers that drove him crazy. It reminded him of somebody famous, but he couldn't place it.

"Uh-I...uh, love? Wha-sure! Why not. Hey, what's not to love?" he slid his hands up under her skirt again and gripped her firm ass.

She sighed and leaned in so close their noses bumped, "No you don't, you're lying. You know, Chip, I've heard of love at first site, but I think it's a myth. Like vampires." then she finally gave in, closed her eyes and let it happen.

The football player gasped, then grinned, "Oh, baby, DAMN! Ariel, I do love you-" SMASH! his window exploded inwards, spraying them with squares of spinning glass! Chip screamed in fright and Ariel gasped as hands like talons caught her shoulders and yanked her bodily off her date and out through the busted car window.

She was tossed like nothing, flew ten meters down the narrow dock and smashed into a rusty cargo container, fell to the wooden dock like a bundle of dry twigs. Back at the SUV, Chip howled like a little girl as his door was pulled off it's hinges and tossed into the harbor, then he was pulled out.

"Ohmigod! Ohmigod!" he dangled high in the creatures grip as it held him up, like a side of beef.

"This buff kid's mine." rasped Chip's attacker over his shoulder, "You can have the girl."

"Will do, Tolar." replied the other two attackers now standing over the crumpled Ariel.

The one yet to speak reached down and caught her shoulder, pulled her up to face him. Her feet dangled a foot off the ground. "Time to die, little bitch!" his face twisted supernaturally and vamped into a demonic visage, complete with long fangs.

"We're sharing her, don't forget." the other moved in and caught Ariel's chin in a grip like iron.

Her hand flew up and caught his throat in a grip like DIAMOND. He gagged and the other gasped. She grinned darkly, "Boy did YOU pick the wrong car." she twisted hard and the neck snapped like dry wood. The creature detonated into brown powder and the other released her in shock, started backing up fast.

"A Slayer. Crap in a hat."

Ariel landed on the wet planks in a crouch, straightened up slowly, "Well now, I guess vampires DO exist after all. Go figure." she raised a dainty foot then brought it down with a crunch. Timber exploded upwards and she caught a foot-long shard deftly in her right hand.

She pointed the extremely makeshift weapon casually at him and cocked her head, "Front or back?" she asked in a voice very indicative of Marilyn Monroe.

"F-Front or back? What do you-" she charged forward in a blur and leapt, somersaulted over his head and landed behind him, spun and drove the jagged stake between his shoulder-blades. He threw back his head and roared, then imploded into dust.

"Back it is."

She heard Chip moaning and she whirled round, made to sprint back to the SUV, but a sudden piercing light blazed around her. She looked blinking into a spotlight shinning from an opening car door. Red-and-blue lights strobed and her sensitive ears heard the sound of gunmetal being dragged from hard leather holsters.

"Nobody move! This is the NYPD!"

Tolar the vampire raised his fangs from Chip's neck and looked round in fury, "I HATE being interrupted when I'm trying to eat!" but he grudgingly caught the boy's neck and made to snap it. Guess I'm eating blue tonight-with a burst of amazing agility Ariel leaped over his shoulder onto the hood of the SUV, spun fast on the wet metal and slapped her hands to either side of his head.

"You know, I too hate being interrupted I'm trying to eat." and she twisted hard to the left, breaking his spine in three places. He exploded and then the two pistol-totting cops had reached the car, they splashed to a halt and took fearful aim for her.

"Don't make a move, lady!"

"What, you mean like this?" and Ariel spun and jumped forward into a dive. She plunged into the black harbor water and vanished from existence.

Even after the ambulance had arrived, and the diving unit too, she never resurfaced...

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Today...

"Hey, man, watch the hands. I never put out on the first date, just so you know."

She was in the classic position: bent half-over, palms flat to the concrete wall, feet wide apart, as the security guard finished patting down her thighs. Skin-tight black jeans, blood-red baby-T with the word NYMPH stretched across her full chest, topped off with a short faded jean-jacket studded with rusty steel studs. With her sinful face and long wavy raven hair she was the perfect fusion of femme fatale and biker bitch. This wasn't lost on the guard, he was enjoying his 'duties' immensely, going about it as slow as possible. Now he straightened up, reached under her jacket and started it all over again on her torso.

"Hey there, pal, now you owe me twenty bucks." she said, resisting the urge to send an elbow flying back into the side of his head.

"More like five bucks." he muttered with a grin and she looked round with narrowed eyes.

"What did you just say?"

He winked and released her, stepped back and nodded to his supervisor, "She's clean. Well, at least she isn't carrying any hidden weapons or drugs that I can see."

She turned round sharply and glared, "That's what I done told ya. Now, are you gonna let me go or what? I only hit that stewardess bitch after she slapped me. She started the argument ya know, I'm totally the falsely accused in this. Blame the sky-ho, yo."

The portly guard observing folded his arms and scowled, "Watch your mouth, young lady. Okay, time for Doug here to check where he CAN'T see."

"Huh?" she cocked her head in confusion, "You been drinkin' Drano? Where can't he see?"

She looked to the left at the snap of a surgical glove. Doug licked his leering lips in anticipation, "Drop those tight jeans, Miss Douberville, and don't forget the undies. You're gonna have to spread those legs of yours EXTRA wide, if you know what I mean."

And Faith the Vampire Slayer narrowed her eyes.

"That's gonna cost you a LOT more then twenty bucks, boys, let me tell ya."

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"No I do NOT know where she is, Giles, who am I, Dionne Warwick? I don't have ESPN you know." Alexander 'Xander' Harris nearly shouted into his cell phone, as he leaned against the airport wall, toying absently with the black patch covering his left eye.

His good right one was working fast darting about the busy JFK terminal, on the nervous look-out for security guards who might be coming for HIM now.

Xander was in excellent shape; broad shoulders and solid chest framed well by a dark flannel shirt, a waist-length grey leather jacket hanging down past khaki cargo pants. The ankle cuffs were piled over-top a pair of well-scuffed but vintage paratrooper boots he'd bought three months earlier in an army surplus store in Egypt. They were a perfect fit and it would take a nuclear blast to separate him from them now.

"The air marshal handcuffed her and dragged her away while we were in flight and then after we landed we had to wait twenty minutes while they hustled her off the plane." he listened for a moment then frowned in frustrated annoyment, "What was I supposed to do, Giles, break one of those tiny Jack Daniels bottles and use it to stage a daring rescue? Are you mental? They would have gunned me down before I got two feet! Look, you have to make with the international intervention, use the powers of the Watchers Council to spring her, or-"

"Hi, Xander." an oval face framed with dark hair leaned into his view.

"Not now Faith, I'm talking." he waved her off and turned away, "Look, Giles, I don't care if you think you can't-Faith? Faith!" he dropped the cell phone and whipped back around. The toughened Slayer smirked and leaned back on the high heels of her zip-up leather boots.

"Who-what-where-" he was at a loss for words.

She snapped fingers before his eyes, "Calm down, Xand, you're makin' a scene." she looked back-and-forth quickly, then reached down for his duffle bag, "C'mon, we gotta book. I knocked two horny security boys flatter then week-old beer and kicked down three doors to get to here." she rose up, swung the bag over her shoulder and raised his recovered phone to her mouth, "No worries, Giles, everythings comin up roses. Later." then she snapped it oof, grabbed her new partner by the shoulder, and set off at a brisk jog.

"But-but-"

"Forget about your butt for now, Harris, the long arm of the law will be looking for me any minute now." an alarm klaxoned and travelers all across the airport looked up in apprehension. Faith scowled, "Or maybe they're already doing it."

"Great, what are we going to do now?" demanded Xander, "I mean, we just got here and it's already going all Replacement Killers." he pushed Faith's hand away and matched her stride, stuffed hands in his grey leather jacket and tried to look innocent as they rounded a bend in the terminal.

"You worry too much. I can't remember how many times I've been in trouble like this and I've always gotten away."

"Oh yay," he rolled his eyes, "that makes me feel even worse. Knowing my luck, they'll be lining up snipers on the roof any moment now."

"Yeah, most likely. Look, can't you walk faster?"

"Not without looking like a terrorist."

"That eye-patch isn't helping either."

He scowled, "Like me taking it off and showing the world my gaping socket will make everything better."

"Heh, it couldn't hurt at this point. It'll distract people from me, at least."

Then they were stepping fast through the sliding doors and exiting out onto the sidewalk. Yellow cabs and black limos lined the walkway and people struggled with luggage and carts in both directions. Faith moved to the nearest free cab and reached for the back door.

Xander caught her arm, "Um, not a good idea. Cabbie's keep records and we don't want to be traced."

She exhaled in anoyment, pivoted around and headed for one of the limos. She pulled open her jacket and puffed out her chest, then leaned down and tapped on the tinted window. It powered down and she produced her most slutty grin, "Hey, are you here for me?"

The driver looked up at her face, then level at the channel of her nearly horizontal cleavage, "In so many ways, girl."

Faith thumped him between the eyes and he moaned backwards into oblivion. She grabbed his cap and turned back, pushed it down on Xander's head, "Take the wheel, Jeeves."

He sighed and pulled open the door, pushed the former driver out of the way and slid in. He slammed the door and twisted the ignition, "Hey, Faith, what about your luggage?"

"You mean Tess Duberville's luggage. You can forget it, I already have. I've been meaning to break in that Watcher's Council credit card of yours anyway."

"Uh, how did you know about-hey, it's only for emergencies. Giles gave specific orders-"

She kicked his seat from behind the passenger partition, "Screw Giles and get this pimp-mobile in gear."

I should have known it was going to be this way, Xander mused darkly. He shifted into first and pulled away from the curb, as an angry knot of guards came piling out of the exit, looking in all directions. I could be safely hidden away at the African safe house, supervising twenty plus teenage girls as they explore their new found Slayer powers, but nooooo, I had to take this assignment. Next time Giles suggests I team up with Faith, I think I'll just slam my head against the wall for three hours straight, it'll end up hurting less...

Then he was pulling onto the freeway and losing himself amongst the noon hour traffic. Behind him, in the back of the limo, the one-time rogue Slayer put her feet up on the wide leather seat and popped the cork on a bottle of three hundred dollar champagne.

"Look out Big Apple," she proclaimed between heavy gulps, "here we come..."

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Faith stood on the dock, shading her eyes from the beaming sunlight, and stared out across the wide body of grey-green water separating Staten Island from the city. They had dumped the limo two hours and three bus trips ago. Behind her, Xander slowly paced across the trash-strewn ground, eyes searching for clues.

"You could help be helping me, you know, Faith. Instead of taking in the sites."

"I am helping." she retorted in her obvious Boston accent, "I read Willow's hacked-up police report too, ya get? The Slayer did a Fugitive off of this peer, according to the file, remember? Yeesh, get off my case."

"Looking for the hole in the water?" he snorted, then turned over a lump of newspaper, "Hey, wait a minute." he stooped, came up with a tiny strip of yellow cloth. He held it up to the sun and ogled it with his one eye, "Hey, look what I just CSI'd up."

She turned back and stared him up-and-down. Medium height and wide of shoulder, Xander Harris was not what you'd call unattractive to the ladies, though the street-smart Slayer would be the first to disagree, more out of spite then anything else though, thanks to their mostly unfortunate history. Harris had wavy dark hair and a square face, and his build was solid. When she'd come back to Sunnydale nearly nine months earlier he'd started looking a bit punchy, but now he was toned and strong, no flab to be seen. Guess African life beef-caked him up, she smiled to herself. Chasing after all those junior-Slayers must've been quite the workout...

"Get hold of yourself, girl, or you're liable to make yourself sick." she muttered and set off to get a closer look at his find. Xander and her were ancient history and there was no way in hell she was going to even consider going down that road again. No more bad-girl antics for her, no way, no how. At least, none of the sultry kind. Kicking and punching and Slaying, now that was a different story altogether. But no more lovin' them and leavin' them in traction, heh...

She halted and peered closer, nearly going cross-eyed to see the strand clutched between his fingers. She snorted, "That aint nuthin. After a week, what makes you think it belongs to our girl vigilante?"

He sniffed it, then smiled, "The report described our mystery Slayer wearing a yellow silk blouse. And anyway it smells like perfume. I highly doubt any wandering lunatics are wearing Channel Number 5. Or whatever it is."

Her nostrils twitched in disgust, "All I smell is trash."

Xander tapped his patch, "My other senses have been going sorta Daredevily of late. I've learned to trust them."

She grinned and hitched thumbs in her belt loops, "Lookit Xander, playin' Sam Spayed. Next you'll be wearing a trench-coat and renting an office in Brooklyn."

"Spade. Sam Spade. Not spayed."

She shrugged, "Whats the diff?"

"A big one for cats and dogs." with his free hand he unzipped the canvas duffle hanging off his shoulder and dug within, came up with wooden box.

"Here." he handed the fiber over to Faith, then popped the lid and carefully extracted a blue crystal shard. It was tapered like an arrowhead and he stowed it's case then held it up on his palm, closed his eyes and began to chant softly in Latin, "Reperire ab puera, crystallus corporalis, reperire ab puera, crystallus ab mens." then he took the fiber back and pressed it to the transparant rock.

There was a tiny flash and the scrap was absorbed. A moment passed and then the shard began to pulse slowly, blinking electric-blue every few seconds. Suddenly it spun fast, accelerating up into a blur, then stopped abruptly, pointing back down the alley they had come from. Xander grinned and Faith raised an eyebrow, "I see Willow's been sharing trade secrets. Just so you know, Harris, if your working eye starts turning black, I WILL be putting you down."

Xander chuckled, "It's just a modified version of her Locator spell, the magic doesn't come from me, it's already embedded in the stone. I just Latin'd it to life and gave it a target."

He turned and set off at a brisk pace, "Come on, this will only last a few hours, and New York is a big city."

Faith stared up at the multitude of towering skyscrapers filling the skyline, "Tell me about it." then she set off after him...

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The crystal lasted longer then predicted. It made it all the way to 5:30pm before it went dark, but by then the pair had their target triangulated well enough. Xander carefully stowed it back in it's rowan box then followed Faith through the rotating door of the Plaza Hotel. Faith stopped and gawked at the sheer opulence of Manhattan's most famous stay-over. The immense lobby seemed to go on-and-on, lit brightly by an army of huge crystal chandeliers arranged in lines across the ceiling. Brass piping glowed, alabaster columns rose high, and the carpet was rich burgundy under her thick-heeled black boots.

She ground her toe into the shag and watched it smoosh dramatically, "Too cool for school, lookit that."

"Ahem." snorted a nasal voice and she peered up into the unamused face of a towering, red-jacketed doorman.

She grinned and shrugged, "Heh, sorry, man, just drinking in your Trumpadelic ambivalence."

"Ambience." he corrected.

"That too." then she started forward and caught up to Xander at the Reservation Desk. He was tapping the summoning bell. Finally he achieved the attention of a pinch-faced man in grey pinstripes. A gold pin on his breast read: Geoffry, Senior Concierge. He moved stiffly to the white marble counter and glared down his nose at him, "Yes?" he asked in a tone lacking any sort of interest. Or respect. Faith wanted to skin him instantly.

"Hi there." beamed Xander and he looked quickly around, his face radiating impressment, "Amazing place you have here, just incredible. I'll bet I'd max out my credit card just ordering eggs from room service."

"I tend to agree." replied the man.

"Anyhow, well, I'm looking for some information."

"The New York Public Library is nearby, sir."

"Heh, not really that kind of information. You see, I'm looking for this girl."

"Do tell."

Xander nodded firmly, held up hand just below his hairline, "Say this tall, thin but curvy with most likely nice muscle tone. Curly blonde hair and a round face. She may sometimes wear a yellow silk blouse. Ring any bells?"

"My belfry remains silent, sir."

Harris dug in his jeans pocket and pulled out a small wad of cash, peeled off a twenty and held it out, "How about now?"

The man stared at the bill, then back at Xander, "You must be joking."

"Ah, so you don't know her then. Too bad."

"I did not say that, sir." and the Concierge waited.

Xander frowned, then counted through his cash. The man watched him then smiled thinly, "I do not believe you have enough in your meager 'stash'. Now, if you will please leave..."

Faith leaned in, "Let me try my way."

"Ho boy..." Xander sighed, then moved back a few steps.

The Slayer smiled brightly across the counter at the Concierge and tilted her head beguilingly, took his hand, "Ignore my pal here, he doesn't get it. He doesn't understand the value of the information you keep to yourself."

He looked down as she stroked his palm, then back up to her, swallowed and reddened, "That is correct. This is the Plaza, and our guest's privacy is of utmost importance."

"Oh, I'm with you, Jeff, I really am." she turned his hand over in hers and caressed the back, "And I realize a handful of twenties isn't enough to spread those lips of yours."

"Of course not."

She nodded, "But howsabout, a handful of... fingers?" and she gripped his index and middle digits and bent them backwards.

He nearly screamed, but Faith stopped just in time, wiggled her eyebrows at him, "I got yer attention now, don't I? You call for help or shout and I'll pop'em off like bread-sticks, you got me?"

"Y-Y-Yes!" he hissed in agony, sweat dripping down his forehead from his oiled-back hair.

"I thought I would. Now, remember that description my boy gave you?"

"P-P-Perfectly! Oh please, l-let go-"

She bent a little farther and was rewarded with a slight crick! of bone. The man bit his lip and his eyes streamed. She leaned in close, "Not just yet. I want to get a good look into your eyes, just to make sure you aren't about to lie to me. You wouldn't lie to me, Jeff, would you?"

"Oh no-no-no, never-ever!"

"Good. Very good. You just might play the piano yet. Well, maybe in a year or two. But here goes: what...room...is...she...in?"

"918! 918!" he rasped, face turning purple. She let him go and he gasped, clasped his hand to his chest and fainted dead away, vanishing behind the tall counter with a thud. Faith turned away from the counter and nodded to Xander, "You heard the dork, let's split up. You take the elevator, me the stairs."

"Gotcha. Keep in touch." he handed her a compact walkie-talkie then they split.

A minute after they were gone, a younger coffee-skinned man stepped out of the office behind the counter, the gold bar name-tag on his burgundy suit read Amir. He glanced down at his comatose supervisor, then waved a woman over, pointed him out to her. Her eyes went wide and she ducked to check on him. Amir then stepped to the line of phones and picked up a receiver, dialed 918. There was three rings, then a melodic yet whispery voice said "Yes?"

"Miss Ariel? It's Amir down at Reservations."

"Oh, hello, Amir." she purred like a cat and he nearly came in his pants, "How nice of you to call."

"Two people, a man with an eye-patch and a dark-haired woman, they're on their way up to your room."

"Really..." she replied, her tone all business now.

"Yes, Miss Ariel. I-I just thought you should know."

"And thank you ever so much, Amir. I owe you a...favor now."

"Oh, thank-you, Miss! Um...can I, uh, have it now?" there was a pause, and then she whispered something incredibly smutty in his ear. His jaw twitched and his knees nearly failed on him, "Ohhhhh, yeahhh..." he dropped the receiver back on the desk without hanging it up and stumbled off to the employee washroom.

As Amir creeped past the circle of velvet lounge chairs set in the center of the lobby, a tanned man in dark glasses watched him go, then looked toward the elevators. A flesh-colored earpiece protruded from his left ear and he raised his wrist, spoke into his wristwatch, "I think you have company, over." he spoke low, "A man and a woman, coming from different directions."

"Understood." came the instant response.

End of Part I...