The Slayer Matrix
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › FemmeSlash - Female/Female › Buffy/Faith
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,338
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › FemmeSlash - Female/Female › Buffy/Faith
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,338
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Prologue
The Slayer Matrix
Prologue – (YEAR 2004)
The oval office was crowded, members of the security, defence, logistics and data analysis boards all crammed in, talking in over louder voices. The President sat back in his chair, loving the creak of the leather as it slide against his shirt.
He was a million miles away from the chaos that surrounded him, his mind on the report that lay on his desk, as his fingers teased its edges. The full Initiative Agenda, including all data received and gathered, and it’s final moments. It had only been brought out again because of the sudden influx of reports about girls, silently stalking the night, and saving those in need. Hunting, if you will. The public quick to assume their attackers were gang members or junkies. But those higher up knew the truth.
The Slayer. Or Slayers, if the many rumours were true. Although, according to slayer law, there should be only one. This meeting was to discuss the possible impact on the hundreds of special units currently dispatched thought out the continent, dealing with the demon threat. About how to control and contain the slayer problem, before the entire world found out about the existence of evil, and those who fought against it. Or at least America.
“Johnson, I believe..” it was only when he looked up that the President realised that the room was silent, every member of his staff was still, as if frozen in time. Some half way through talking, some still gesturing.
The lights suddenly flickered off, leaving him in darkness to watch the thin layer of fog, as it covered the floor. He was just about to press his intercom when he noticed something which, before he was President, he would never have believed possible. A woman, small in stature with honey blonde hair and the greenest eyes he’d ever seen, walked out of the wall in front of him. She was followed by a taller brunette, three other women and two men.
“Mr President, nice to meet you.” The blonde sat in the chair opposite his desk, leaning back and clasping her hands over her stomach.
“Who are you? What’s the meaning of this?” the red-haired woman chuckled, motioning to a pen on his desk and, with her mind, raised it into the air where it started to spin in lazy circles.
“You’re making life very hard for us Mr President.” The brunette snorted in the back of her throat. “We’re trying to do our jobs and you’re trying to track us down. I thought you’d already realised that you can’t contain a power greater than yourself.”
“The Slayer.”
“One of many. And we’ve been dodging your operatives for months. But we don’t kill humans, so we’re here to strike a business deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“You fund us, we train your people to deal with that’s in the darkness. Working together to kill demons seems like a better idea than trying to kill an army of warriors, that’s over the million mark in numbers, wouldn’t you say?”
“I beg your pardon? We haven’t done anything, that’s what this meeting’s about. And we certainly haven’t been trying to kill you.” It was the brunette who answered.
“Really? Then I suggest you get a new Secretary of Defence, because ever since Sunnydale got knocked into the ground, he’s been hunting us like rabid dogs.”
“Faith, this isn’t the time for personal issues.” The elder man spoke gently, with a calm authority.
“Well when is it Giles? We’ve lost over a hundred slayers in the last four months because of the fucking government.”
The President sat there in mute surprise, as the man and woman continued to argue. His eyes drifted to Johnson’s face, a calm mask of knowledge and authority. They’d been golf buddies for years, and although he found it hard to believe that his friend would go against direct orders, would kill possibly the only *real* defence against the monsters in the dark. He knew, ultimately, that Johnson was more than arrogant enough to believe that they were better than a bunch of girls.
But sat there, taking in the rolling presence of the Slayers, seeing the ease with which they’d slipped quietly and unseen into one of America’s most heavily guarded buildings, he knew that the government was only a burden to those who’s destiny was far greater than their own. The blonde Slayer was right; they either worked together, or the government pulled back completely.
He looked away from Johnson to find that the blonde’s eyes had never left his face.
“How does four million a year sound?” his voice brought the room back into silence, everyone but the blonde and redhead looking at him in shock and surprise. Without a word, a four-page contract was placed in front of him. It covered not only the basics, but also numerous things in detail, including the fact that the government had no control over the slayers at all. He filled in the blank area for the budget allowance before signing it and stood, moving to the copier to make three duplicates. “One for me, one for the Pentagon and one for the new Secretary of Defence.”
He passed the original document back, receiving a brown folder filled with all the evidence he would ever need to fire Johnson, and put him in jail. “If you leave some contact information for me, I’ll sort out your budget and let you know as soon as it’s set up.”
The moment it was done they started to file out of the room, the brunette nodding at him before turning and following the others, back out the way they had come. The lights flickered back on and the conversations in the room resumed, until he coughed, calling order to the group assembled.
“A solution has been reached. They’re getting a budget, training our special units and we’re to leave them alone.”
“But sir..” Johnson jumped to his feet, a look of rage crossing his face. The President didn’t let him finish.
“Johnson, you’re fired. And under arrest.” A collective gasp rose in the room, people looking startled at their leader's harsh words.
“Pardon? What for?”
“For the murder of,” he took a quick look in the folder that he’d been given. “123 young women. Slayers to be exact. Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You’re going to jail for the rest of your life, you arrogant son-of-a-bitch.” And with that, he left the room, allowing to guards to enter and arrest his one time golfing buddie.
To Be Continued..
Prologue – (YEAR 2004)
The oval office was crowded, members of the security, defence, logistics and data analysis boards all crammed in, talking in over louder voices. The President sat back in his chair, loving the creak of the leather as it slide against his shirt.
He was a million miles away from the chaos that surrounded him, his mind on the report that lay on his desk, as his fingers teased its edges. The full Initiative Agenda, including all data received and gathered, and it’s final moments. It had only been brought out again because of the sudden influx of reports about girls, silently stalking the night, and saving those in need. Hunting, if you will. The public quick to assume their attackers were gang members or junkies. But those higher up knew the truth.
The Slayer. Or Slayers, if the many rumours were true. Although, according to slayer law, there should be only one. This meeting was to discuss the possible impact on the hundreds of special units currently dispatched thought out the continent, dealing with the demon threat. About how to control and contain the slayer problem, before the entire world found out about the existence of evil, and those who fought against it. Or at least America.
“Johnson, I believe..” it was only when he looked up that the President realised that the room was silent, every member of his staff was still, as if frozen in time. Some half way through talking, some still gesturing.
The lights suddenly flickered off, leaving him in darkness to watch the thin layer of fog, as it covered the floor. He was just about to press his intercom when he noticed something which, before he was President, he would never have believed possible. A woman, small in stature with honey blonde hair and the greenest eyes he’d ever seen, walked out of the wall in front of him. She was followed by a taller brunette, three other women and two men.
“Mr President, nice to meet you.” The blonde sat in the chair opposite his desk, leaning back and clasping her hands over her stomach.
“Who are you? What’s the meaning of this?” the red-haired woman chuckled, motioning to a pen on his desk and, with her mind, raised it into the air where it started to spin in lazy circles.
“You’re making life very hard for us Mr President.” The brunette snorted in the back of her throat. “We’re trying to do our jobs and you’re trying to track us down. I thought you’d already realised that you can’t contain a power greater than yourself.”
“The Slayer.”
“One of many. And we’ve been dodging your operatives for months. But we don’t kill humans, so we’re here to strike a business deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“You fund us, we train your people to deal with that’s in the darkness. Working together to kill demons seems like a better idea than trying to kill an army of warriors, that’s over the million mark in numbers, wouldn’t you say?”
“I beg your pardon? We haven’t done anything, that’s what this meeting’s about. And we certainly haven’t been trying to kill you.” It was the brunette who answered.
“Really? Then I suggest you get a new Secretary of Defence, because ever since Sunnydale got knocked into the ground, he’s been hunting us like rabid dogs.”
“Faith, this isn’t the time for personal issues.” The elder man spoke gently, with a calm authority.
“Well when is it Giles? We’ve lost over a hundred slayers in the last four months because of the fucking government.”
The President sat there in mute surprise, as the man and woman continued to argue. His eyes drifted to Johnson’s face, a calm mask of knowledge and authority. They’d been golf buddies for years, and although he found it hard to believe that his friend would go against direct orders, would kill possibly the only *real* defence against the monsters in the dark. He knew, ultimately, that Johnson was more than arrogant enough to believe that they were better than a bunch of girls.
But sat there, taking in the rolling presence of the Slayers, seeing the ease with which they’d slipped quietly and unseen into one of America’s most heavily guarded buildings, he knew that the government was only a burden to those who’s destiny was far greater than their own. The blonde Slayer was right; they either worked together, or the government pulled back completely.
He looked away from Johnson to find that the blonde’s eyes had never left his face.
“How does four million a year sound?” his voice brought the room back into silence, everyone but the blonde and redhead looking at him in shock and surprise. Without a word, a four-page contract was placed in front of him. It covered not only the basics, but also numerous things in detail, including the fact that the government had no control over the slayers at all. He filled in the blank area for the budget allowance before signing it and stood, moving to the copier to make three duplicates. “One for me, one for the Pentagon and one for the new Secretary of Defence.”
He passed the original document back, receiving a brown folder filled with all the evidence he would ever need to fire Johnson, and put him in jail. “If you leave some contact information for me, I’ll sort out your budget and let you know as soon as it’s set up.”
The moment it was done they started to file out of the room, the brunette nodding at him before turning and following the others, back out the way they had come. The lights flickered back on and the conversations in the room resumed, until he coughed, calling order to the group assembled.
“A solution has been reached. They’re getting a budget, training our special units and we’re to leave them alone.”
“But sir..” Johnson jumped to his feet, a look of rage crossing his face. The President didn’t let him finish.
“Johnson, you’re fired. And under arrest.” A collective gasp rose in the room, people looking startled at their leader's harsh words.
“Pardon? What for?”
“For the murder of,” he took a quick look in the folder that he’d been given. “123 young women. Slayers to be exact. Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You’re going to jail for the rest of your life, you arrogant son-of-a-bitch.” And with that, he left the room, allowing to guards to enter and arrest his one time golfing buddie.
To Be Continued..