Fic: Twenty-Six

Author: norgco

DISCLAIMER: I DON’T OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS YOU WOULD RECOGNISE, JOSS DOES. LEILA AND THE WARDEN ARE MINE, PLEASE EMAIL ME IF YOU USE THEM.

RATING: NC: 17, FOR VIOLENCE, SEX, AND ADULT CONTENT.

FEEL FREE, BUT PLEASE EMAIL ME ABOUT IT, MY MUSE NEEDS THE BOOST.

DESCRIPTION:FAITH MAKES A FRIEND IN PRISON, THEN THINGS GET NASTY.

FEEDBACK: Please,

Note: sex, violence, non-con

TWENTY-SIX
By norgco

SHOWER AREA, WOMENS MAXIMUM SECURITY PRISON

When she saw her new cellmate, naked in the showers, Faith was lost for words. Since she wasn’t required to speak at the time that was not a problem. However the woman was older, perhaps 25, and taller, her black pussy hair was bushy, she could get lost in those bushes, her tongue could wander for days in those bushes…

"No Faith, bad Faith, following your instincts led you here, and anyway, she’s probably straight, or thinks of you as a kid." She was muttering to herself under her breath, looking away, at anything but the busty, coal black woman who was to sleep in her room. The respect she received was for her fighting ability, her speed and strength and experience. Avoiding killing people was not easy, but so far there had only been small fights in the yard. But the gangs were after her, to kill or recruit, and it would take something major to scare them off for long.

LATER, IN THEIR CELL

"What is a nice young white girl like you doing in here?" Leila said.Did you damage someone’s Mercedes with your Rolls?" A very sarcastic tone, in a prison where the gangs were heavily racial, and the prisoners disproportionately from "minorities".

"Professional Killer."

"You’re Mafia?" Very sceptical.

"An over ambitious politician and a law firm actually. The politician’s dead and the law firm is pissed at me, not organised crime in the normal sense." They were sitting on the lower bunk, just establishing themselves really. Faith’s last cellmate had left for home and husband, a ‘prison gate lesbian’ as they say. The "I love you’s" stopped as soon as she was with her man, part of the nightmare that was over for one more. Faith had to consider whether this was an attempt to get her killed. Given the most recent fighting between Aryan Nation and the black gangs, the larger woman might have been moved in to kill her. A bribe to the right guard, or pressure from Wolfram and Hart, could get it done. ‘Or am I just being paranoid.’

"Paranoid about what, little old me?"

"Hadn’t thought I spoke out loud. And yea, with the white psycho’s trying to kill the black psycho’s and vice-versa, plus both seeing neutrals as traitors, yea, paranoid, but am I paranoid enough?"

"I don’t want to kill you, I want to fist you till you shout down the walls."

Faith said nothing, merely stepped forward and kissed the other woman. A long, slow sensual kiss, while her hands ran down the other’s crotch. Very little was said for quite a while, at least as formed thoughts. When it was over they noticed it was before lights out, two guards were watching, and the other prisoners were calling out various threats, promises, and suggestions. Well, at least the kill me or kiss me thing is settled for the moment.

LATER, IN THE EXERCISE YARD

When the violence started, it was all out. She had expected an attempt to kill her, not to take over the prison. A gang fight turned into a riot, then into an attack on the guards. A cellblock and some of the walls were under prisoner control before the police reinforcements stabilised things.

It was the most dangerous situation she had ever been in. Two groups of racist crazies with guns trying to hold off barely more stable SWAT teams and FBI Hostage Rescue, while also trying to think of something to negotiate for with all the captured guards. The guns were from the guards, of course, apparently she was not the only one who had worked out how to take them and the armoury. She had just been practising her planning skills, but the gangs were serious.

‘Well, what do I do now?’ It was an obvious thought, but in her case especially important, because she actually could do something. Prisoner organization was abysmal, discipline nonexistent, and if she could take some guns, maybe set fire to the armoury and free the captured guards – none big ifs individually – she could end this with minimum fatalities. Of course, if any part of the whole plan failed the hostages would be executed.

‘So, which is better karma, to try or not to try, that is the question? Whether it is nobler in the mind to rip their lungs out and feed them to the dogs, and in doing so end it, or to hide like a rabbit and hope not to get blown away by some trigger-happy police sniper?’ Faith pondered this, and whether she had paid way too much attention to Angel’s suggestions of good entertainment.

‘When Shakespeare actually starts to make sense you know you’ve changed, don’t you Faith?’ It would be the first chance she had had to really make a difference, to do something noble. Slayers kill monsters, and heaven only knew that monsters came in totally human flesh and with a soul. Faith was a human with a soul, and she knew deep inside she was a monster. 'Ok, lets do it.’

The various gangs’ attempts to negotiate a truce for the duration actually made life easier for her. No one knew who was in charge or was allowed to go where or do what. She conned her way to the entry to the armoury, where the group of arguing gangers couldn’t decide which of them was actually in charge. Unable to bluff her way into the room, she killed them all instead.

‘Plan the work then work the plan.’ The Mayor had drilled that into her, and it worked now. She had a change of clothes to avoid being obviously bloody, and knew exactly what guns to take and how to get them out of their cases. Walking down the hall with four shotguns and ten Glock’s in two bags, plus ammo and spare loaded magazines for the pistols, she just walked along like she had a total right to be there. It had worked with crossbows and other medieval weapons in Sunnydale and LA, act like you have own the place and people don’t question you. The amount of blood she had in her hair and her face, along with all the weapons probably had something to do it, but she never thought about it then. Totally focused on where she was and what she was doing, anything outside her control had to be ignored.

"Hello." Faith said, as she brought out the Glock 9mm and blew holes through the six people torturing and raping the captives. Some guards, some young prisoners who were just two cute for their own safety, and Leila. They were not in love, so much as friends who fucked like rabbits. Now her friend’s naked body still had a corpse’s hand sliding out of it. Two bullets had removed the head of the woman fist raping her, and the screaming was due to blood and brains spattered over her.

The dark slayer had not slowed down, just changed magazines as she walked towards the main hostage area. Cutting the bonds of these captives took one hand, but only after reloading, so she handed one bag over to the ex-hostage. It was the one with the shotguns and their ammo.

Then she freed the last two and kicked the door off its hinges. This opened into the hall of the office area, with some bedrooms for the warden, or something, as well. So there were no doors strong enough to stop her, and she anticipated just killing her way through the area, like a short, female Terminator. Faith had always liked the bit in that movie where it had gone through the police station, killing, assault rifle in one hand, pump shotgun in the other. In this case she had a Glock, seven loaded magazines for it, and a large carving knife taken from a prisoner.
Hostages were in various rooms having various things done to them, or just being left scarred shitless listening to the screams of those taken out of their presence. Faith knew the gang members by sight, learning their faces had been her first task in prison. All part of the more methodical slayer that came out of her time with Mayor Wilkins. Several angry women were in the hall yelling at her, wondering about the shots, so she double tapped them, two holes each for fourteen rounds total. The slayer part of her mind was proud, seven moving targets down without
a wasted round, and none escaped.

She was changing magazines as she walked down the hall; keep the bastards off balance, speed and violence, that was the way. Kicking the first door open, she skewered a target with the kitchen knife. The head came off easily, with a wet schlock, and the hostages mostly didn’t throw-up at the sight. The sounds of the group being tortured down the hall had probably scared them past all that. Faith gave the knife and two Glock’s with spare mags to the most coherent looking hostage, took the head by the long, blonde hair, and closed the door on the way out with
her foot, pistol in her right hand, head in the left, bag of weapons over her shoulder.

She was singing "whistle while you work" as she strode to the next room. It had been one of the Mayors favourite tunes; he had often sung it while preparing sacrifices. Her singing was punctuated by the sound of doors shattering, gunshots, and the screams of the dying. Still, she was in the sort of mood where the old Disney tune seemed appropriate, the sun was shining, birds were singing out in the yard, and there were monsters to kill. All in all, life had not been this good for a long time.

PAROLE HEARING ROOM, A MONTH LATER

"And so you propose to release this woman, who, killed 26 people without remorse, specifically BECAUSE she did this killing. We are to free a murderer for committing one of the greatest mass slaughters in recent times, to thank her for the slaughter she caused?" The Warden and guards were all in favour of letting Faith out, partly in thanks and partly to avoid being in the prison with her. At least one member of the parole board was not impressed.

"It is obvious, from these events, that Faith Summers could have left the prison at any time since she was incarcerated here. She is only in the prison because of her own free will, she has agreed to stay." Warden Jackson had scraped his secretary’s brains off his clothes, after being force to watch her being raped with a broom handle. Faith’s slaughter of the rioters was fine with him. "This young woman risked her life to save people she had no reason to love, when it would be safer and easier to just let us die. This is not an evil woman who needs to be punished, she is a
hero who needs direction, and the agency offering to take her off our hands can provide that."

Watching him pace back and forth as he spoke, his determination was obvious. Keeping this woman in against her will was not an option. The survivors and next of kin were adamant, the press were treating her as a hero, Spielberg was not the only director who wanted to make a movie about her, he was just the one likely to get the first interview. Only the official story that she was recovering from injuries, and could not be interviewed yet was keeping the circus under control. That story could not work forever; too many people knew it was a lie.

"Special agent Finn assures us that Faith will be under tight discipline at all times, and will be doing work crucial to the security of the United States. She has done this work before, and went wrong when she went undercover. Getting carried away with a cover story is not a new phenomenon. Special agent Washington made the same mistake as Miss Summers cell mate, anyone in law enforcement is aware of the problem. We’ve all heard of narc’s who got too deep under cover, all street cops have."

Of course, when he thought about it, a lot of the people here had never been street cops, but enough had. The dark haired killer had agreed, reluctantly, to go with her supposed former employers. He had doubts about the story, but Faith seemed willing to go, and enough high-powered Washington types had called to assure him Finn wasn’t from the Mafia or something anyway.

THE MAGIC BOX, SUNNYDALE

"We all know Faith is alive, she has to be, no new slayer has been called." Buffy was angry, and frustrated that all the hacked records claimed Faith had died in the prison hospital. The other slayer was loose in the world; she had to be, yet all the official paperwork said she was dead. "It’s a conspiracy, a government conspiracy, it has to be." "And the Fox Mulder paranoia award goes to Bufficus." Xander was not smiling, and neither was anyone else. And, like everyone except Buffy, he knew the final bit of data hacked from classified medical records. How to tell her without destroying her, how? "Of course it’s a government conspiracy, but which agency, and will they keep her from killing nice people?"

They had seen the first, hastily made telemovie the night before. The scene where Faith had walked down the hall, a severed head dangling by its long hair in one hand, was particularly memorable. It was one of the most mentioned parts of the survivor’s accounts, particularly by the prisoner who had been knocked out with it. The blank faced stare as she, the only surviving hostage taker, recounted seeing the head swinging at her…well it was worthy of all the press inches devoted to it.

"And what’s with this Faith Summers shit, where does she get off using that name, or is it some sick psycho-slayer joke?" The dark slayer had never mentioned a last name, but surely she had one, why use Buffy’s? "Ah, yes, ah, the ah, family name thing." Giles stammering while using such bad English got Buffy’s attention. He was looking down at the table, and everyone else was looking at anything but her. "You see Buffy, Willow discovered something in government records. A DNA test was part of Faith’s post-incident medical, and they ran it against the total database. "Agent Riley Finn, agency unknown, brought certain facts to the attention of prison authorities, and well…"

He was speaking very quietly and clearly, clearly working up to something. She had thought finding out Riley was mixed up in all this was it, but obviously not. What had DNA tests got to do with anything? Had they discovered something genetic about Slayers, was that it? Were they part demon or something, the Initiative would have enough data for that, they had taken samples from everyone, even her… "Faith is your half sister, presumably from a convention in Boston, and Faith changed her name to reflect this.She did mention he mothers, er, profession…?"

"DAD GOT FAITH’S JUNKIE WHORE MOTHER PREGNANT, THAT PSYCHO BITCH IS MY SISTER?"

Giles moved to take her hand as she broke down crying, and Dawn jumped into Xander’s arms, Anya patting her and actually being sympathetic, for a change. The sisters cried for a long time, for the final loss of their father, and the gain of a sibling.

END