Frank James, a bandit almost worthy of his namesake, ran through the darkened halls of his own factory with a panicked expression evident in his eyes. He caromed off the cement walls as he rounded one corner after another, looking over his shoulder as he ran.
The specter that was chasing him was no where in sight, but whenever he would slow down, that haunting voice would be right there as if it had never left his side.
"Is this how they felt, Frank?" The taunting voice came back as he slowed. "Hunted and alone? Running on adrenaline as you chased them down for your sacrifices? Hunted them like animals?"
"W-who are you!?"
The voice didn't respond, only seemed to smile in an eerily disturbing way as it went on. "Well you're the hunted now, Frank. It's your turn to run, to panic, to be the victim."
"Who are you!?" Frank screamed, bouncing off a wall and he lurched to the side while looking over a shoulder. He skidded along the ground for a bit, then scrambled back to his feet and kept running.
"I'm you." The voice echoed over the sounds of his flight and he shivered despite the sweltering heat of the place. "I'm a man looking for a little power, Frank. And you're just the sacrifice I need to get it."
Frank stumbled again as the *bite* of the man's voice ran through him. "W-w-what do you want??"
"I want to know how you felt when you chased down Sandra Vaughan and Tony Tilden, how you felt when you cut their hearts out with that dagger you keep hidden in the sheath at your back." The voice had turned almost silky, a calming emotion coming through it as it wheedled away at Frank's mind. "I want to know what you felt, Frank. How did it feel to kill them like animals to the slaughter?"
Frank swallowed, his hand unconsciously going to the dagger still at the small of his back, "I-I-I... I don't know what your talking about..."
"Oh come on, Frank." The voice said, a harsh bit to it's tone now, "It's just you and me here... And really, you don't see me around do you?"
Frank paled. "W-w-what ARE you?"
"Just call me... your conscience, Frank." The voice chuckled softly, "I'm your own personal Jimeny Cricket. And I'm going to hound you until the day you die if you don't tell me what I want to know. Just tell me how it felt, Frank... that's all I need to go away."
Frank James slumped, finally too tired to run. He'd been fleeing for hours as far as he could tell, but the voice had followed him from one end of the city to the other and right into his own sanctuary. Mentally he was near breaking, and what was worse was that he knew it. He just breathed out finally and looked around, looking for something to address, but saw nothing but air and cement.
"Alright." He gave up, "I loved it! You hear me you son of a bitch! I loved it! The feel of the blade cutting their skin, the looks in their eyes when I did it so damned slowly it took them hours to die! I loved the way the bitch squirmed and the stupid bastard broke his wrists trying to get out of the restraints! Are you happy!? I loved it!! I LOVED EVERY FUCKING SECOND OF IT!!"
"That'll do."
Frank blinked. The voice had come from further away then before, and now had a much less spooky sound to it. Frank turned in the direction of the sound and saw a figure he knew walk up the corridor. "Alex?"
The figure smiled at him, a smile that sent a shiver down Frank's spine because he knew that smile. He'd seen it in the mirror hundreds of times. It was the smile a shark would wear, if it were human.
"Hello, Frank." Alex smiled at him as he stared in shock.
Frank looked completely lost as the man he thought he knew walked calmly up to him and plucked a small item from his collar. "What?"
"Neat little transceiver." Alex said, quirking that grin of his. Couple hundred meter range, and very clear sound quality, don't you think?"
Anger started to replace confusion, and Frank surged to his feet. "What the hell did you think you were doing you ass-!?"
Alex's eyes turned cold as he leaned forward, "Just giving you a taste of what you gave them, you sick bastard. You're done, Frank."
"I'm done!? YOU'RE DONE!" Frank screamed, his hand flashing for the dagger at his back and pulling it out in a sweeping motion.
Alex easily sidestepped, then reached out and jammed a thumb into Frank's wrist. His nerves temporarily deadened, the dagger clattered to the cement and Frank stumbled back in shock and fear. He backed away from Alex as the man coldly watched, then he turned and broke in a desperate run.
He ran, and he ran, and he ran. Looking over his shoulder assured Frank that Alex wasn't behind him, but he didn't stop. He crashed through the emergency exit like a wounded bear, roaring and bellowing his impotent rage, and stopped dead as he was pinned by three spotlights and heard the sound of dozens of automatic weapons being readied.
"Freeze! This is the Los Angeles Police Department! Frank James, you are under arrest for the murder of Sandra Vaughan and Anthony Tilden! Place your hands behind your head, interlock your fingers, and get down on your knees!!"
Buffy Summers looked around the emptying halls of Sunnydale High, frowning thoughtfully to Willow. "Have you seen Xander today?"
Willow frowned herself, then shook her head. "No. I think he's out sick. I was going to check his place after school."
"Oh." Buffy nodded, "Ok... You mind if I come with?"
"Of course not." Willow smiled, "I'm sure that Xander would appreciate it."
The two of them smiled and continued down the hall, smiling and laughing as they headed for the library for their free period.
Neither of them noticed the person they were chatting about appear at the front doors of the school just after the crowds had vanished, walking calmly through the empty halls and into the school.
But someone did.
"Harris!"
Xander sighed, coming to a stop as he turned around to look at the Troll-like man coming up behind him. "Yes, Mr Snyder?"
"You better have a damned good excuse for not being in school this morning!" Snyder snarled, almost salivating at the thought of doling out another detention for the week.
Xander reached up with one hand and smoothly slid his dark sunglasses off his nose, unable to resist putting a cold glare into his face as he did. Snyder saw it, and took a half step back before he managed to shore up his reactions. Xander just smiled cooly and flipped his glasses shut, delivering the ray-bans to his jacket pocket.
Most of the time he was able to very effectively 'pretend' to be the same Xander Harris who started the school year. Most of the time, he could almost fool even himself. But Snyder was one man that Xander simply didn't *care* what he thought of him. And so he often let his harder edge show through when dealing with the man.
Snyder had taken Xander's few seconds of silence to regroup, and was snarling again. "That's it, Harris! I'm giving you two weeks..."
Snyder trailed off as Xander produced a pink slip of paper and calmly handed it over. The troll stammered as he read it, "Special dispensation from the school commissioner?? Attending University credit courses!? Who do you think you're kidding, Harris!? I'm going to call the commissioner about this!"
"Please do." Xander almost whispered, smiling in that same disconcerting way. He hoped that Snyder checked up on it, as the slip was one hundred percent genuine.
He'd considered faking it, of course. That would have been quite easy in fact. But the simple truth was that once one had the ability to fake something like that, one also had the skill to acquire it legally.
"D-don't you think I won't." Snyder shook the paper, backing away nervously.
Xander just smiled at him until he was out of sight, then turned and went to his locker. Once there he calmly shucked his leather jacket, favoring the gaudy Hawaiian shit he had worn underneath. His cargo pants were more in keeping with his 'normal' dress code, so Xander just hung the jacket up and flipped the locker shut and spun the combination lock.
He meandered through the halls for a bit, knowing that Snyder would avoid him like the plague once he actually did check out that slip. Finally heading for the cafeteria to grab something to eat.
Getting his food and grabbing a table only took a few moments, and Xander smiled one of the few genuine smiles left to him in anticipation of the meal.
There was an odd dichotomy inside him ever since Halloween, Xander knew. One of it's symptoms was actually a lot of fun.
He LOVED Jello, for one thing. Everything about the disgusting food appealed to him now, even though he had been somewhat ambivalent to the gelatin treat before. Something in his inner memories just simply adored any food that was completely and utterly without nutritional value.
And that was something that Xander Harris was perfectly fine with.
"Well? Do you have it?"
"Yes Sir." The young man panted slightly, "It was just delivered today."
"Well? Hand it over."
"Sorry... here it is, Sir." The young man said, flushing.
The older man frowned at his assistant. The young fool was truly a pain in the ass, but his family was well regarded so the older man sighed. He supposed that he would have to find some way of disposing of the young man soon, but for the moment there was a more important matter at hand.
When he finished his head snapped up and he glared at his young assistant. "Did you read this?"
"No Sir. Of course not... I would never presume..."
"Yes, yes, yes... very well. Leave me." The old man said tiredly, shaking his head. Of course the fool hadn't read it. If he had, then perhaps he might have been competent enough to warrant a little career guidance. As it was...
The man put that firmly out of his mind and looked over the file in front of him.
"Alexander Harris. You my intrepid little friend, know far too much and have put your nose into far too many places it should not have been.