The Ravages Of Hell

FIC: Ravages Of Hell (14/?)

Oz glanced at his watch, his lycanthrope enhanced senses allowing him to see through the shadows of the alley and read its face. Fifteen minutes until Xander’s plan called for him to go into action.

“Following a Harris plan,” he shook his head and chuckled. “Neighbourhood’s gone to hell.” Smiling to himself, he settled down to wait.

* * *

Katrina joined her fellow Czech Slayers in hurriedly changing into their chambermaid outfits in the female locker room, the room’s starkness a startling contrast to the hotel’s luxurious public face. Her heart dropped when the dressing room door swung open to reveal a thickly-built, formidable-looking woman in her late forties wearing a supervisor’s uniform. The hotel employee’s eyes widened. “Who are you girls!” she shrilled. “You’re not staf-!”

“Hell!” Katrina cursed as the middle-aged woman backed away from them. Leaping over a bench, she grabbed a hold of the woman around her collar and yanked her back in, looping her arm around the supervisor’s in a chokehold and squeezing until the woman passed out, slumping into her arms.

“What are we going to do with her?” Petra hissed, the blonde’s ocean blue eyes fixed on the unconscious woman.

Katrina looked around, momentarily at a loss and conscious that precious seconds were ticking away. She grinned as inspiration struck. “In the lockers,” she replied. “Here,” she passed the unconscious body to Martina, “hold her.” She crouched by the nearest locker, squinting as she stared at the door’s lock. She smiled as she realised how it worked. A few seconds later and the door swung open. “Here,” she nodded to Martina, “put her in there.”

Martina looked from her to the narrow locker space and back again. “She’ll never fit in there,” her fellow Slayer hissed.

Pushing away her own misgivings, the older woman had some heft, Katrina grabbed hold of the supervisor’s meaty arms. “Yes, she will,” she argued even as she struggled to stuff the body into the locker, thanking the powers that be for her Slayer strength. “See,” she wiped away at the sweat beading from her forehead. “Easy.”

“Great,” Martina commented archly. “And how do we lock it again?”

Katrina groaned. Putting her back against the door, she forced the over-stuffed locker shut. “Lock it,” she ordered. Once the supervisor was imprisoned, she looked expectantly at her companions. “Are you ready?” her two fellow Slayers nodded. “Let’s go and good luck.”

* * *

“What do you mean you have no record of our booking?”

Hannah’s practiced smile slipped. The one-eyed man’s anger as he glared at her from the other side of the reception desk was intimidating to say the least. There was something dangerous about the man that made her very glad when the diminutive red-head accompanying the enraged visitor tugged on his arm. “Calm down Alex,” the red-head pleaded.

“Calm down,” Hannah heaved a relieved sigh when Alex’s glare switched from her to her companion. “This is our honeymoon!” the man growled. “It’s supposed to be special!”

The red-head’s green eyes turned stony. “Being here with me isn’t special is it?”

“Honey,” Hannah hid a triumphant smirk at the man’s sudden paling, “that’s not what I meant!” Alex raised his hands in a placating gesture.

Relieved that the couple’s attention had turned on one another, Hannah took a second to shake her head. “Americans,” she muttered.

* * *

Katrina watched from behind a white-washed pillar as a porter entered the third floor elevator, the door soundlessly sliding shut behind the hotel worker. Satisfied the coast was clear, she hurried over to the fire escape, forced the door open, and ushered her fellow Slayers inside. That accomplished, she sent Xander a page indicating her first part of the mission was completed before turning to her companions. “Stage two, now.”

* * *

“But, dear,” Xander broke off from his staged argument at the tell-tale vibration of his pager. After a discreet look and sending of a receipt page to Katrina, and another page to Wood, he continued with his ever more heated conversation.

* * *

Wood groaned as Xander’s page went off. He glanced in the window of the dress shop opposite and winced at his attire of Panama hat, gaudy shirt that looked like he’d vomited on himself, skin-tight leather pants, multiple medallions around his neck, and a glittering ring on every finger. For a man who preferred conservative dress, his disguise was a nightmare. He was definitely going to kill Harris for this. Whoever told Harris he had a sense of humour had a lot to answer for.

Not that, he looked towards his trio of uncomfortable companions, the Slayers had got off any lighter. Dressed in black minis so short they were better described as belts, two sizes too small crop tops that had them shivering in Prague’s cold night air, and caked in make-up, there could be no doubt as to their supposed trade. “Let’s go.”

Once across the busy main street, Wood led his ‘girls’ across the busy street and approached The Grand’s gleaming entrance and its bullet-headed, barn-sized doorman. “Hey man!” Wood whooped even as he felt his cheeks flame with embarrassment. “Open the doors ‘cause Ramrod Robbie!” the name was Xander’s invention of course, “and his girls are here and ready to P-A-R-T-Y!”

After a distasteful look at him and a lingering, lustful, one at the three Slayers, the tuxedoed doorman shook his head. “I’m afraid you can’t come in sir.”

Wood threw his hands out to the side. “Is it ‘cause I is black?” he queried angrily. Might as well put all those torturous hours forced to watch Ali G repeats with Faith to good use.

* * *

Petra took a breath as she and Martina stopped outside the hotel room holding the concealed entrance to the Orders Headquarters. According to Council Intelligence the room was permanently occupied by a trio of vampires.

Three vampires, Petra shoved the laundry cart forward. It sounded easy enough, but Council intelligence had been wrong before. And the pressure of working with one of the Scoobies weighed heavy, she didn’t want to foul up, disappoint one of the Council legends. “Are we ready?” she nodded at Martina’s question. Her friend knocked on the door. “Laundry service!”

“Come in!” barked a Afrikaans voice. After a quick exchange of nervous looks, they obeyed.

The room they entered was a simple but comfortable-looking affair. Its most telling feature were its securely shut drapes, cutting out any possibility of light. The room’s three vampires were a pair of hard-faced men and an attractive but haughty-looking woman. “Laundry service was here just a hour ago,” the woman commented.

“Yes,” Petra nodded, watching out of the corner of the eye as her fellow Slayer moved to flank the cart. “But this is,” she smiled as she reached under the cart and pulled out a crossbow. “A special delivery.”

The vampires’ eyes all widened. Petra sent a bolt through the nearest vampire’s heart, but before she could re-aim, the female was on her.

Petra grunted when the demon’s fist smashed into her nose, splattering it into her face, the knowledge that Slayer healing would soon fix the problem scant comfort against the pain. Forcing herself to ignore the blood pumping down her face, she ducked the vampire’s follow-up right to slam a crossbow bolt home.

“Are you alright Petra?” Martina queried.

Petra nodded. Already the blood loss was slowing, her Slayer healing kicking in. “I’m fine,” she pulled out her pager with a beaming flourish. They’d done it, they’d secured the entrance.

* * *
Xander nodded as Petra’s page came in, just seconds after Katrina’s second confirming her team had dealt with the hotel’s normal, human, internal security. After sending a quick acknowledgment, he fired off successive pages to Wood and Oz.

* * *

Feeling the vibration of his pager, Wood stepped into the arguing doorman’s space and smiled apologetically. “Sorry about this,” he drove a hard knee into the muscleman’s groin.

The man’s eyes crossed and he began to double up only to be grabbed around his gorilla-thick neck and quickly choked into unconsciousness by one of Wood’s Slayers. The girl looked up at him as she eased the man to the slick-wet pavement, an anticipatory gleam in her eyes. “It’s time?”

“It’s time,” Wood confirmed, resisting temptation to shake his head. He just loved it when Slayers fought his battles for him. Made him feel like an extra in a Spice Girls’ video.

* * *

Oz’s eyebrow arched at his page. “Showtime.” He sighed as he realised it meant losing yet another set of clothes. “Wonder if Council employment comes with a clothes allowance?” he chuckled to himself. He would have to talk to his union rep.

For a few seconds he just stood there, shivering in the cold air. Then he felt it begin. The savage fury pumped through his veins, his muscles contorting, swelling from its primal call. He growled as golden brown hair began sprouting all over his body and he began to feel himself fill with an unimaginable power, his five senses suddenly far sharper than they were just seconds ago.

He burst out of the alley with an earth-shaking roar, tearing into the centre of down-town Prague. Ripping a street lamp out of the pavement, fragments of flags hitting him as he did so, he flung his makeshift over the cars racing past and through the window of the clothes shop opposite.

His diversion had begun.
* * *
“Harris!”

Xander glanced towards the hotel entrance. Even in this stressful moment he couldn’t resist a snigger at Wood’s shout. “Let’s go.”