Disclaimer: The concept of Immortality used here belongs to Rysher.  The movie The Crow and its characters also do not belong to me.  However, Victoria and all other unknowns do belong to me so don’t borrow without asking first!

Rated PG-13 for violence and language.  This is the Hetskateers Challenge story for October of 2000.  Enjoy!

Johanna’s Authors Notes: This is dedicated to Alex.  I first wrote it having only seen the movie a grand total of one time, so the mere fact that it resembles the movie in any way now is completely his doing.  He also did a lot of the editing.  Love you lots, hon!

October 29th
Paris, France

She awoke as she usually did, transitioning from deep sleep to conscious awareness all at once.  She wasn’t awake, exactly, since it was only seven in the morning and she hadn’t gone to bed until nearly two AM the night before, but she wasn’t bone-tired.

In other words, Victoria DiThon Kestral was having a normal morning.  She rolled out of bed and stretched, popping a few vertebrae in the process.  That reminded her – she needed to have a more thorough workout than she had had time for lately.  But first, breakfast was calling her.

During her workout later that morning, Victoria was quite surprised to notice that instead of loosening up, she felt her nerves being drawn tighter and tighter.  Sighing in frustration, she abandoned the free weights and grabbed her sword, hoping to work out some of the tension in her kata.

But that didn’t work either; it merely gave her more nervous energy to work with.  “Screw this,” she muttered, sheathing her sword.  “I need to get outside.”  So it was on with the running shoes and out the door for a jog.

Victoria didn’t jog often – she rode her bike more frequently, and she was more of a sprinter anyway.  Today, however, she desperately needed it.  Setting off from her Paris flat towards the nearest park, Victoria tried to figure out what was wrong.  Her birthday was in a few days, but she had never been affected this way before.  So what was the problem?

She ran for almost an hour before the pain in her legs told her that tearing a muscle in the middle of the park probably wasn’t a good idea.  So she slowed to a walk, enjoying the sun and crisp autumn breeze.  Settling on a nearby bench, she tried to force herself to relax with some breathing exercises.  Not working.

A shadow flew across the path in front of her, and Victoria felt her eyes drawn to the sky.  A crow was circling lazily above her.  That’s when she figured out why she was so tense.  She needed to *leave*.

“I wonder if this is what Justin feels like,” Victoria mused quietly as she rose from the bench and headed home at a sedate pace.  Her long-time best friend had the inability to live in one place for more than two years, and even that was pushing it.  Victoria had woken up more than once to find a note saying merely, “Had to go.  Love you, Justin.”  Victoria grinned.  “I do believe he’s rubbing off on me.”

After taking a shower, Victoria felt a lot calmer as she packed, probably because she now had a plan of action.  With a few changes of clothes, her weapons bag, and the folder with the papers that marked her as a special antiques courier that would allow her to transport her weapons by plane, she headed for the airport.

Studying the flight information monitors in the main terminal for a few minutes, Victoria picked a destination at random.  She bought a first class ticket on a whim and was able to board the plane soon thereafter.  And she was off.

The plane landed a few hours later, near midnight local time.  As she was about to leave, one of the flight attendants grabbed her arm.  “Excuse me, miss?”

Victoria gave him a guarded look and hoped he wasn’t hitting on her.  She hated it when that happened.  “Yes?”

“Are you traveling alone?”  What a pervert!  Victoria was fully aware that she looked like a teenager and this man looked to be near his thirties.  Victoria nodded cautiously.

But the flight attendant merely gave her a concerned look.  “Then I’d advise you to be careful.  Devil’s Night isn’t until tomorrow night, but that doesn’t stop a lot of the smaller gangs.”

Oh.  He was just worried about an innocent young girl in the big city.  Victoria smiled sweetly.  “Thank you, sir.  I’ll watch out.”  She managed to keep most of the sarcasm from dripping out of her voice.

Victoria checked into a small hotel at about one in the morning, and then discovered that she wasn’t tired.  Sometimes jet lag was a wonderful thing.  She stared out the window and studied the city, wondering what to do.  A large fire was burning in the distance, and that jogged her memory – what the flight attendant had said about gangs and “Devil’s Night.”

With a grin, Victoria was inspired.  If the gangs were out hunting, what was to stop her?  The only difference was that this particular vigilante hunted the hunters instead of merely just protecting others.  In the vampire underworld she was known as Victory.

“Trolling for rapists,” Victoria muttered with a sharp laugh.  Digging in her bag, she replaced her white tee shirt decorated with the Night Island logo with a black, silk blouse to go over her blue jeans and boots.  After strapping on various knives, she placed her gun in her shoulder holster and pocketed a couple extra clips.  She tied back her hair and shrugged on her black trench coat, complete with sword.  Anyone who jumped this seemingly defenseless teenager would get a nasty surprise.

It wasn’t until she left the hotel – ignoring the surprised look from the night clerk – that she remembered how cold it was in the city.  A cup of coffee before she did anything else was a definite must.  It also didn’t help that it was drizzling steadily.  Victoria found a small hot dog kiosk a few blocks from the hotel and hopped onto one of the stools, which were gratefully under an overhang.  After ordering, she began to wring out her hair, wishing she’d known she was going to be city hunting and brought her cloak instead.

“So what’s a girl like yerself doing out so late?” the grizzled cook said as he handed her a Styrofoam cup.

“I’m older than I look, my friend,” Victoria replied with a wry grin.  “Hunting,” she added after a pause.  A sound behind her caused her to turn around.  Standing there was a young, punked out girl with a skateboard. Victoria cocked her head at the girl.  “Now here’s someone who’s out a bit late.”

“Hiya, Sarah,” the man behind the counter said.  “Was it my imagination or did you already have dinner?” he asked with a fond smile.

The girl cautiously approached the stand and took a seat as far away from Victoria as she could get.  “Hey, Nicky.  I didn’t want to go home,” Sarah replied softly.  Victoria’s heart immediately went out to the young girl.

Any further reply by the girl was suddenly cut off by nearby gunshots.  All three jumped slightly, then Victoria slid off her stool and drew her own gun.  When none of the next shots sounded any nearer, Victoria holstered her gun and slid her coffee over to the girl.  “You look like you need this more than I.”  With a nod to the cook, she headed down the street.

“Hey!” the girl called after her.  “Who are you?”

“Sorry, kid,” Victoria replied cheerily with a wave over her shoulder.  “That’s need to know!”

Sarah turned back to her friend.  “Do you know?” she asked, bewildered.

He shrugged.  “She said she was a hunter, but I'd say she’s one of the good guys.”

Victoria found that the source of the gunshots appeared to be coming from within a pawnshop.  She lurked across the street, waiting for someone to emerge.  A police car pulled up and the cop stepped out, so she melted into the shadows.

Then a man walked out of the shop holding a shotgun.  Both Victoria and the policeman froze, but the man merely turned and fired back into the shop.  A split second later, a giant explosion from within incinerated the entire shop.  Victoria could feel the heat from the blast clear across the street from where she was, and with shock saw the mysterious figure engulfed by the inferno blazing out of the front door.  She was in for a bigger surprise, however, when he came strolling out of the fire completely unscathed and simply tossed away the shotgun.

The man slung a guitar over his shoulder and seemed intent on walking away.  The police officer confronted him before Victoria could get to him, so she remained out of the way.  The mysterious figure immediately got her vote of approval when he did not try to hurt the cop, though he did harass him a bit.  She was rather intrigued that he, too, was dressed all in black – complete with leather duster.  Unfortunately, she could not hear what the two were saying over the roaring fire, nor get a clear look at the man’s face.

The police officer was distracted momentarily by looters, and the figure in black took off down the street past Victoria.  She was stunned for an instant, because his speed was not that of a human’s.  For lack of a better idea, Victoria headed after him.  She was curious about the man, and wanted to know who – and what – he was.

She trailed behind him, hoping to find out where he was based, but lost him within a few blocks.  Unfortunately, her main cause for being out in the rain reared its ugly head when a gang of young men waylaid Victoria, leers evident on all faces.  The mysterious man immediately disappeared from sight.

“Hey, hey, hey, lookee here, boys,” the one obviously in charge said with a glint in his eye.  “I do believe this poor little girl is lost.”  The gang members grinned.

Needless to say, they were all rather taken back when Victoria merely laughed.  “Hey, hey, hey,” she taunted.  “I do believe you boys are sorely mistaken.”

The leader was not amused.  “Get her,” he snarled.  Two of the boys nearest to Victoria lunged for her, but she leapt back just in time.  In simultaneous movements, she drew her gun and wrist stiletto, aiming the pistol at the leader.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself,” Victoria stated, quietly and succinctly.  “My name is Victory.  You are humans, so I can’t kill you.  But I can teach you a lesson.”

Victoria returned to her hotel room and collapsed onto the bed, sleeping through most of the day.  After her shower, she switched the television on to the evening news as she brushed her hair.

“Although Devil’s Night does not officially start until sundown tonight,” the news anchor said, “many seem to have started early this year.  The usual rash of arsons began last night, including a pawnshop called Gideon’s, which exploded early this morning.  The owner was found murdered in a different location a few hours later, but the two incidents appear to be unrelated.”

She listened until the commercials began, but Victoria did not receive any more information about this “Devil’s Night.”  “Dude,” she groused.  “Ever hear of tourists?  Just what the hell *is* Devil’s Night?”  Pulling on her trench coat, Victoria slipped her room key into her pocket and headed out the door for another night on the town.  Since she hadn’t eaten anything since on the plane, Victoria headed back to that hot dog stand, Maxi Dogs.

In an amazing coincidence, who should be sitting there but the kid *and* the cop she had seen the night before.  Victoria was afraid the girl was going to get busted for something, but the two looked to be on decent terms.  She was rather relieved to learn that the kid had some useful allies in this demented city.  Both of them left a few minutes later, so Victoria ghosted up to the stand.

“Hello, again,” she told the cook with a grin.  “The dogs smelled so good last night that I had to come back here for dinner.”

“I would be worried to see you out here so close to sundown,” came the reply as he handed her a hot dog.  “But I saw the gun you flashed last night.  That’s not your only weapon, is it.”  It was more of a statement than a question.

Victoria grinned and snapped her stiletto down into her hand.  “’Fraid not.  Never know who you might meet on the streets these days.”  Taking a bite of the hot dog, Victoria nodded appreciatively.

As he poured her a cup of coffee, the cook continued, unfazed, “Word on the street is that last night some teenage chick took out an entire gang.”

“But I didn’t kill them!” Victoria exclaimed, eyes widening.

The cook grinned.  “That right there proves to me that you’re one of the good guys.  No, they’re not dead, just out of commission for awhile.”

“Thank gods,” Victoria muttered between bites.  Both of them were silent as she finished her hot dog and hopped off the stool.  “Duty calls, my friend.  I’ll see you later.”

He leaned over the counter, a concerned look on his face.  “Be careful, though.  Devil’s Night starts at sundown.”

Victoria threw up her hands in exasperation.  “Just what is this Devil’s Night, anyway?  I’m so friggin’ confused!”

The cook laughed and quickly outlined the demented tradition for her.  “So basically it’s an excuse for gangs to wreck havoc the night before Halloween.”

“Bloody brilliant,” Victoria groaned.  “Here’s me trying to be just your average vigilante and then something like this gets thrown my way.  Oh well, I’ve dealt with worse.”  She paused, then peered at the cook through narrowed eyes.  “You don’t have any vampires in this town, do you?”  He merely stared at her.  “Never mind.  I’ve got to go.”  With a wave, she headed back down the street.

She wandered around for a bit, but the city seemed oddly deserted.  Probably the normal people were all hiding out in their homes, and the gangs weren’t out yet because the sun wasn’t down.  “What is a girl to do to pass the time?” Victoria softly mused in a singsong voice.

The call of a crow from above interrupted her reverie, and Victoria looked up to grin at the bird perched on a fire escape.  As if in response, the bird cawed at her again, then took off.  But it only flew down the street, then returned.  Landing on the fire escape railing again, it cocked its head and gave Victoria an expectant look before croaking rudely at her.

“Sorry,” Victoria called up to it.  “I don’t know what the hell is going on either.”

The bird flew off again and landed on a power line down the street.  Victoria kept walking and was rather surprised when the bird scolded her again.  She stared at it.  “No, I’m not going to follow you,” she reprimanded the bird gently.  “You are not my animal.”  Having experience in both Native American and Druidic magic, Victoria knew what species her spirit guide was, and it certainly was not a crow.

As if in response to her thoughts, another animal walked calmly out of the nearest alley.  It was pure black, but had the physique of a cheetah, and the tips of the ears and the tear lines by the nose were a silvery hue.

Victoria sighed, completely unsurprised at this turn of events.  “But you, however, are my animal.”  The black cheetah bowed her head aristocratically and turned to begin walking down the street towards the crow.  Victoria could do nothing but follow, but her mind was racing furiously.  If Black Cheetah wanted her to follow this crow, what did it mean?  What was going on?  And why did this always have to happen to *her*?  Sunset was less than an hour away.

Black Cheetah and the crow led her on a winding route through the city.  Gradually, Victoria began to pick up the mournful strains of an electric guitar.  Finally she saw a derelict building, and saw a man sitting on the roof.  He was the source of the beautiful music.  Using the fire escape, Victoria also headed to the roof at the urging of the crow.  Black Cheetah settled herself regally on the ground below to watch.

When she reached the roof, Victoria quietly perched on a ledge to wait for the musician to finish.  With a start, she suddenly recognized him as the man who had destroyed the pawnshop.  He was still dressed all in black, and Victoria finally got a good look at his face.  It was covered in white makeup.

The man did not appear to notice her presence – or if he did, he didn’t care.  After an intense finale, he abruptly jumped to his feet, guitar in hand.  Victoria nearly fell off the roof in her surprise, and she was even more shocked when the man slammed his guitar into the amplifier, destroying both.  Finally throwing the shattered remains of the instrument off the roof, he stood silently, staring after them.

Victoria couldn’t stand the stillness.  She had to say something.  “If you hadn’t wanted it, I would have bought the guitar from you,” she called out calmly.

The mysterious figure turned to stare at her, and Victoria stood in response.  “Who are you?” he finally asked, in a voice that gave evidence of being very close to the edge.  Seemingly as an afterthought, he added, “What are you doing here?”  Victoria knew she would have to be careful with this one.

She shrugged amiably.  “I’m a lot of things,” she replied.  “And to tell the truth, I don’t even know what I’m doing in this city.  The place wigs me out.”

To Victoria’s immense surprise, the man merely grinned at her.  “I can understand that,” he replied slowly.  He kicked a few remnants of his shattered guitar away and leapt down to the level of the roof Victoria was on.  “And I only vaguely know why I’m here also.”  After brushing back a lock of long hair, he extended a hand wrapped, of all things, with black electrical tape.  “Eric Draven.”

Victoria shook it firmly.  “Victoria DiThon Kestral.”  Then something registered in her brain – his hand felt human, but wrong somehow.  “I saw you at the pawn shop last night,” she confessed, “and I’ve been dying to know.  What are you?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, not in anger, but confusion.  “I…died.  I’m still human, but not.”  To *his* surprise, Victoria took his statement in stride.

“Yeah, that certainly sounds familiar,” she drawled.  “But you’re not like me.  You’re something entirely different.”  She thought for a moment – maybe their problems of misinformation were linked.  “I really *don’t* know why I’m here.  I picked a city at random back at the airport in Paris.  So I decided to do my vigilante thing.  But our animals seem to have decided differently.”

“Our animals?” Eric asked.  A look of realization dawned on his face when the crow came in for a landing on his arm.   Then he saw Black Cheetah when Victoria gestured to the ground below.

“Do you know why you’re alive again?” Victoria questioned, still trying to figure out what was going on.  “In my case it was a genetic thing, but not for you, I don’t think.”

Eric shook his head.  “No.  My fiancée and I were murdered a year ago,” he replied, a haunted look crossing his face.  Victoria grimaced in sympathy.  “Now I’m going to kill the bastards who did it.”

Victoria gazed up into the darkening sky.  “I once had a husband named Erik,” she said slowly.  “Unfortunately, you can’t get revenge on an iceberg.”

He stared at her.  “Don’t tell me you were on the Titanic.”

“Okay, I wasn’t on the Titanic,” Victoria replied with a cocky grin.  But Eric could plainly see the pain in this seemingly young girl’s eyes.  “So you shall go kill the bastards.  Sounds good.  Want a hand?”

Eric shook his head.  “I can handle it.  What are you going to do?”

“Go after the other random bastards in this psychotic town,” Victoria answered.  “I won't kill them if I don't have to, but I can still do some serious damage.”

“Have a good Devil’s Night, then,” Eric said sarcastically, but with an accepting nod.

“You too, my friend,” Victoria said.  “If you need anything, send the crow.  I’ll follow.”

“Same to you,” came the reply.  “Good luck.”

Victoria turned and jumped down onto the fire escape, then began to climb down.  “By the way,” she called with a laugh.  “I’m still pissed at you for destroying that guitar!”

But both he and the crow were gone.

She wandered around the streets, fought off a few gangs who tried to gang-rape her, stopped one from setting a tenanted apartment on fire, and protected a woman on her way home from work from yet another gang.  As she wandered back to her hotel when dawn approached, Victoria was *not* in a good mood.  She hadn’t died, but her guard had slipped during that last fight.  And this had been one of her favorite shirts, too.

Victoria rounded a corner and came face to face with another person.  Both of them jumped back and automatically drew weapons – Victoria her sword, and the man a large knife.

“Oh, it’s you,” Eric said tiredly, replacing the knife.  “What’s with the sword?”

As if suddenly realizing the weapon she held, Victoria looked rather startled to see it in her hand.  She sighed.  “Well, I’m too damned tired, and that always makes a couple centuries worth of habit come out.  I only started using a gun for these hunts a few decades ago.”  Victoria sheathed the broadsword and took a good look at Eric.  His shirt and coat were riddled with bullet holes.  “Huh.  If it’s possible, you look worse than I do.  I’ve only been shot three times.  The rest were knife fights.  Did you get them all?”

He shook his head dejectedly.  “No, one is still missing, and I think he took refuge with the top crime lord in this town.  I’m going after them tomorrow night.”

“The offer for backup still stands,” Victoria said softly.  But again, Eric refused.

“No, it’s not your fight.”  With a grimace, he brushed past her.

Victoria grabbed his arm, putting a bit of her vampiric strength behind the hold.  Eric whirled on her, putting his knife to her throat.  “I don’t care if it’s not my fight,” she replied slowly, studiously ignoring the blade.  “But I don’t want you to lose it.  A lot of shit happened to me in the space of a few years once, and that’s what happened to me.  I killed a lot of innocent people once, and I don’t want that guilt on the conscience of someone it doesn’t have to be on.”

“I don’t kill innocents,” Eric growled.

“Neither did I,” Victoria returned evenly.  “But they got in the way, and I simply didn’t care.  Sometimes you can’t control it, no matter how hard you try.”

With calm casualness Eric reached up and began to peel her fingers away from his arm.  Knowing it was futile, Victoria did not resist.  “I can take care of myself.  You would do well to not get in my way.”  He did leave then, and Victoria made no move to stop him, instead merely staring down the street at him in silence.  Black Cheetah walked up to her as the crow swooped past her to land on Eric’s shoulder.

Victoria sighed and scratched the cheetah’s head absently.  “I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she whispered.  “This royally sucks.  I’m going to bed.”  At that, she continued on towards her hotel, but she knew that she needed to make some phone calls.

As she walked, something occurred to her.  It was Halloween.  “Oh yeah,” she muttered.  “Happy bloody birthday.”

A dark figure lurking in an alley across the street had been trailing Eric.  He watched the entire scene with interest.  After both figures dressed in black left, he decided that Top Dollar might be interested in this girl who had appeared, too.  Especially since this had to be the girl who had just finished wrecking havoc all over town.

After sleeping for a few hours, Victoria woke up in the early afternoon.  Time to make some phone calls to a few people who might know something, anything, about what was going on.  First was to a friend well versed in the magic of the spirit guides.

But Gwena did not know why Victoria had been called to the city, nor why Black Cheetah had appeared.  “Thanks, Mom, but you don’t really have any information that I didn’t already know,” Victoria finally said when her long-time friend wound down.  The older Immortal’s retort made her grin, some humor that she desperately needed.  “Yes, I do bow to your knowledge.  You just can’t see me…Yeah, whatever.  Bye, Mom, talk to you later.”

Next was a phone call to a friend in Los Angeles, a Native American vampire.  “Hey Twilight, it’s Toria.  Got a few minutes?”

Half an hour later, Twilight had wrapped up the legend of the crow that brought souls back to earth for a specific task – usually revenge.  “So basically your friend is pretty much invulnerable, at about the same level as Immortals,” she finished.  “But he’ll heal a bit faster than you, and he won’t seem to feel pain.  It’s all tied into the crow that you said was following him around – hurt the crow and the man becomes normal.”

This startled Victoria.  “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Twilight replied slowly.  “I’ve seen this all before, about twenty years ago.  The man that Misty was tracking down managed to capture the bird – suddenly she could be injured.  And when she got too close, he killed it.  Misty went out in a pretty big blaze, and I finished the guy off.”  She paused for a moment, then continued in a voice tinged with sadness, “Why do you think my club is called the Twilight Mists?”

Victoria gave a harsh curse in Welsh.  “I doubt Eric knows about this.  I’ve got to find him.”

“Just out of curiosity, where are you?”  Victoria told her, and Twilight laughed.  “Home of the infamous Devil’s Night, which just happened to be yesterday.  Let me guess, you did your Victory routine?”

“You know me too well,” Victoria replied.  “Thanks for your help, Twilight.  I’ve got to go.  Tell Pallas and everyone at the club hi for me.”

“Will do,” Twilight said.  “Good luck.”

As Top Dollar received the report of the mysterious female vigilante from his spy, he wondered what her role in all of this was.  When he heard about her sword, he became even more intrigued.  His meeting with his fellow crime lords was not for another few hours.

“Bring her to me,” he told a few of his henchmen.  They nodded, and left the room.  Top Dollar walked to his large weapon’s cabinet and removed his elegant rapier.  “Let’s see how good she is,” he whispered.

His sister sat at the table, playing with a knife.  “The girl with the sword is more than she appears,” she breathed, “Be careful with this one.”

“Oh, I plan to play *very* carefully,” he replied.  “Very carefully indeed.”

On Halloween afternoon, Victoria decided to treat herself to an early birthday dinner, then do some more patrolling.  After much internal debate, she decided to stay away from Eric Draven.  He didn’t need her help, and the chances of his bird getting hurt were slim to none.  Besides, he vaguely creeped her out, and he hadn’t been too thrilled with her the last time they talked.  Best to just stay away from him.

A few hours before sundown, while on her way back to her hotel, Victoria realized that someone was following her.  The person was good, but she always sensed tails eventually, especially the human ones.

With a sigh, she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned around, coat swirling around her legs.  “You can come out now,” she called sarcastically.

Much to her surprise, a single man emerged from the shadows.  He didn’t look like the typical gang-banger, and his style of speech confirmed that.  “I was sent by my boss to request a meeting with you, miss,” the man stated slowly when he neared her.

Victoria stared at him.  “And your boss wants to meet me because…?” she began, raising an eyebrow at him.

“He wants to meet the young lady who has been picking off his gangs, one by one, and hasn’t a scratch to show for it,” came the steady response.

“Thanks, but no,” she replied.  “Send my regards and tell him I have other plans.”

At that, the man pulled a gun out of his coat pocket.  “I’m sorry, but my boss was most insistent.”

Four shots into the chest later, Victoria was no longer in a position to argue.

When Victoria woke, she found herself lying in the middle of a bed with a young woman leaning over her.  Reacting without thinking, she immediately reached out to grasp the woman around the neck.  The woman’s eyes widened, but she did not struggle.  Victoria slowly sat up, not lessening her hold.  She was in a plain bedroom with a single door leading out of it.

The sound of a gun being cocked behind her caused Victoria to freeze in mid-motion.   “I would advise you to let her go immediately, young lady,” a man behind her said quietly.  The Southern drawl in his voice was rather pronounced.

Doing a mental search, Victoria suddenly realized that all of her weapons were gone, down to the lock-pick kit usually stored in her back pocket.  The woman didn’t look like she was going to lash out if Victoria let her go, so she risked it.  She scooted back on the bed so that her back was to the wall and she could keep the other two occupants of the room in sight.  She was rather relieved to notice that her trench coat was on a chair on the far wall, and it looked to still contain her sword.

The man who had spoken surprised her.  He was dressed rather elegantly, and his hair reached to about his shoulder blades in a single thick wave.  He was still holding the gun she had heard, pointed directly at her.  With a gesture, the woman rose from the bed and hurried to his side.  Then he spoke again.  “First of all, I don’t like challenging people I don’t even know the name of.  If you’d care to oblige me?”

“Victory,” she answered shortly.  She wasn’t about to give him any more information than he needed to know.  And what was with the challenge comment?  He wasn’t even an Immortal.

A knock on the door stopped the man as he was about the say more.  “Enter,” he called in an annoyed voice.

The man who had shot Victoria appeared.  “Your guests are arriving, sir.  They wish to know when you will appear.”

With a sigh, the man with the gun nodded reluctantly.  “Well, I mustn’t keep them waiting.”  He turned back to Victoria.  “I shall deal with you later, my dear.”

At that, he and the woman left the room.  Victoria held her breath, but no such luck – her coat was grabbed on the way out.  The unmistakable sound of the lock on the door closing in place was next.  “Damn,” Victoria hissed.  “What the hell is this all about?  I hate not knowing what’s going on!”

The room itself was rather underwhelming.  A bed, an empty dresser, and a plain wooden chair.  No windows, and the only entrance was the locked door.  All of Victoria’s weapons and other supplies were gone, right down to the key ring in her jeans pocket.  Hopefully it was all with her coat – that was her only mailbox key for the apartment in Paris.

But this did not mean she was completely helpless by any means.  She had one skill that no enemy could ever take away from her, and it was time to exercise that gift now.  There was no way she was going to stay in this locked room until that psycho man came back at his leisure.  Victoria left the bed and walked carefully to the door, making as little noise as possible, just in case the door was guarded.  She knelt at the door and peered at the lock, and this was where two centuries worth of mercenary work came in handy.  Victoria could pick a simple lock with the stereotypical hairpin, if needed.  But even without tools, she was not at a loss -- this was just a lot harder.

Victoria closed her eyes and placed forehead and hand on either side of the doorknob.  Casting her mind adrift, she waited until disembodied eyes could see the entire room.  Then she concentrated on the doorknob, and it slowly became transparent.  The inner workings of the mechanism sprang into focus, and Victoria’s main gift came into play.

Telekinesis was a wonderful thing in cases like this, especially with control refined over two hundred years.  Within five minutes, the catch was sprung, and Victoria could easily have walked out the door without trouble.

Balling her right hand into a ready fist, she did just that.  The startled guard at the door fell to the floor with a thud, thanks to a little vampiric strength thrown into the punch for good measure.  The rest of the hallway was deserted, so Victoria picked a direction and started walking.

Of course, she didn’t find a room with all of her things – that sort of thing only happened in the movies.  However, after going up a small flight of stairs, she emerged onto a catwalk above a large room containing a large table.  The meeting in progress proved to be quite interesting.  The man who had kidnapped Victoria was giving essentially a call to arms – against all the innocents in the city.

Then something even more interesting happened.  First, the crow swooped in and landed on the table.  All of the men stared at it in various states of surprise and shock.  “How the hell’d that thing get in here?” the ringleader finally said curiously.

“Gentlemen!” yelled a voice from the shadows opposite Victoria.  Eric Draven appeared, striding to the end of the table across from the ringleader.  All of those in the room finally reacted to this new presence by cocking around twenty automatic weapons at Eric.  He did not seem to care, however, and roughly shoved the chair at the end of the table over.  As he perched cross-legged on the table, Victoria had to smile at his brazenness. A low conversation passed between Eric and the criminal boss, but she was too far away to hear what was said.  Then Eric pointed to a man at the end of the table.  “I just want him,” he said coldly.

Following his finger, Victoria noted with shock that the man was covered in bloody bandages, but was being restrained from running by a large black man.  The prisoner didn’t seem to want away from the crime lord, but he was deathly afraid of Eric and that took priority.  The criminal made some sort of sarcastic remark, and Eric leapt to his feet on the table.  “Well I see you’ve made your decision.  Now lets see you enforce it,” he said with a small smile.

“Aw, this is already boring the shit out of me…*kill him*!” the ringleader screamed.  Within seconds, over a hundred rounds of ammo was emptied into Eric, and his wildly jerking body fell off the table and out of sight of Victoria’s current position.  “Ooh, that had to hurt,” said the ringleader as he and the rest of his henchmen burst into laughter.

One of them swaggered over to Eric’s body, and then bent in confusion to peer under the table.  “He’s gone!” he cried in stunned shock.  Then the back of his head exploded as Eric’s hand shot up from under the table and the gun he held released a bullet at point blank range.  Then all hell broke loose.  Twilight had been right, because it seemed Eric *was* pretty much invulnerable.  The bullets flying around the room (two of which grazed Victoria) attested to that.

After everyone in the room was either dead or fled, Eric simply stood in the center of the table, surveying his carnage.  Victoria heard whimpering from under the nearly ruined piece of furniture, and Eric turned slowly towards the noise.  He strode down to the end, where a katana he had thrown earlier was embedded in the wood.  With a quick thrust, he shoved it straight through.  A scream burst out, and then the man with the bloody bandages came scrambling out from under the table.  Eric leaped down and quickly caught the man by the lapels of his coat. “I guess it’s not a good day to be a bad guy, huh, Skank?” he said with such a haunted voice that Victoria shivered from her perch up in the ceiling.

“I’m not Skank!  That’s Skank right there,” the man stuttered as he pointed to a body on the floor.  “Skank’s dead” he added with a hopeful smile.

Eric just stared at the man. “That’s right,” he said with a small tremor in his voice.  Then he hurled the man through the large glass window behind him.  Victoria winced as she heard his scream suddenly cut off by the sound of an impact on something metal.

In a split second decision, Victoria decided to confront Eric.  With a flick of her wrist, Victoria caused the guns in his hands to go flying across the room, then she jumped down from the catwalk to land lithely on the table before him.

“Nice show,” she said steadily.  “Personally I wouldn’t have killed all of them, but hey, you’re not me.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Eric replied coldly.

Raising a corner of her mouth into a semblance of a grin, Victoria answered, “That’s what happens when you’re new to the merc field – all of those older and more experienced feel that they need to impart their pearls of wisdom to you.  It’s annoying as hell, but you grow out of it pretty soon.”

“I’m not planning on hanging around for that long,” was the short response.

Victoria nodded.  “I can understand that.  But I *like* playing the old, wise one.  I don’t get to do it that often”

Eric actually managed to match her half-grin.  “You talk too much, Victoria.”

She shrugged, mildly surprised by his use of her name.  “Yeah, well, you need a bigger sense of humor, Eric.”

The sound of police invading the building caused Victoria to whirl in surprise.  A gust of air at her back told her that Eric was gone.  She immediately headed for a door in the back, hoping to find a way out of the building and avoid the police at the same time.  When she opened the door, she came face to face with the same man who had killed her earlier.  “Ah, crap,” she muttered as the man made a sound of startled surprise.  Then he drew his gun and shot her.  Again.

This time Victoria came back to life lying on a wooden floor.  Gazing upwards and getting her bearings, Victoria realized that she was in a gym of some sort.  The lack of noise alerted her to the fact that she was also probably in a completely different building.  As she slowly got up, a door slammed open.  Her kidnapper strode into the room holding a gun in one hand, and a rapier of all things in the other.  One of his cronies – not the one who had shot her this time – held Victoria’s coat, and her own sword.

“I must admit, I didn’t really expect you would escape, my dear.  You have impressed me,” her kidnapper drawled.  “But it was pure luck that Adams came across you.”  He smiled at her, sliminess practically oozing off of him.  Victoria resisted the urge to shudder in revulsion.  “My meeting was ended a bit early, so there is plenty of time for us to spar before I must get on with my next appointment.”  The ringleader stopped a few feet away from Victoria and looked down at her.

Victoria lithely rose to her feet.  She crossed her arms and merely gave him a bored look.  “Let me get this straight.  You kidnapped me in order to fight me?  I don’t even know who the hell you are, man.”  She snorted in amusement.  A flash of leather trench coat in one of the corner catwalks of the large room let her know that Eric was present – he had obviously followed her body.  The thought was surprisingly comforting.

In silent response, he holstered his gun, and took Victoria’s sword from the other man.  Not one to waste an opportunity, Victoria quickly grasped the sword with her telekinesis and sent it racing into her own hands.  She moved quickly into a defensive position, and raised her eyebrow at the man.  “Do you even know what you’re up against?”

“A young girl with an overly high opinion of herself, obviously,” the man replied, matching her sarcasm perfectly.  “Shall we?”  He dropped into a classic fencers en guarde position.

With a sigh, Victoria threw caution to the wind.  “What the hell,” she muttered.  As if on cue, she and the man struck at each other in the same instant, blades flashing.

Eric was rather amused when Top Dollar lost in a matter of minutes.  If this Victoria had been on the Titanic, that gave her at least a century’s worth of experience.  What had the man been thinking, challenging her like that?

Reversing her thrust at the last second, Victoria merely conked her opponent in the head with the hilt of her sword.  At this sight, the crony who had still been lurking by the doors dropped all of Victoria’s things and disappeared in a flash.  Victoria gave Top Dollar’s prone body a nudge with her boot and shrugged.  She walked calmly to the edge of the room to collect her coat and weaponry.

Eric did not move, though he was well aware that Victoria knew he was there.  But he was surprised when she called his name.

“Eric,” she said into the dark, empty space of the room.  “He’s not dead.  You can finish him off yourself, or wait until he revives and challenge him fairly.  I’m going home, getting out of this town.  It’s not worth it.”  At that, she left the room.

Placing his chin on his hand, Eric took a sorely needed moment to decide what to do.

After paying the clerk on duty at her hotel, Victoria left the lobby and headed down the street.  She wasn’t too surprised when Eric Draven ghosted up next to her.

They walked for a few minutes in silence.  It was Victoria who spoke first.  “I thought you’d be gone by now,” she said softly.

Eric shrugged.  “I’m not done yet.”

The walked in silent companionship for a few minutes, then Victoria stopped abruptly and turned to face him.  “Just do me one favor, okay?  Don’t become so obsessed with revenge that you end up losing everything.”  Eric was silent at that, so Victoria continued.  “Actually, I’m glad you showed before I left.  I just wanted to say that I was sorry for nearly screwing everything up for you.”

He shook his head.  “No, you didn’t.  You made me think, and I needed that.  So I guess I’m the one who owes you a thank you.”

“Well, you are very welcome,” Victoria replied, a small smile appearing on her lips.  They started walking again.  “Just out of curiosity, what was that guy’s name, anyways?”

“Top Dollar,” Eric replied.  He expected the immediate snort of derision that Victoria made.  This girl was definitely the sarcastic type.

“Just for that, he deserves to get whacked,” she muttered, with a roll of her eyes.  Then suddenly those eyes were focused directly on Eric’s as she stopped again.  “What was her name?”

Eric didn’t need to know which “her” Victoria was referring to.  “Shelley,” he whispered.

“You’ll find her again,” Victoria said softly, all humor gone from her voice.  “I know you will.”  At that, Victoria turned to keep walking down the street.  When she reached the corner, she glanced behind her, but Eric was gone.

But she smiled again when the caw of a nearby crow reached her ears.

~finis~

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This page was last updated: 6.15.4 ~jlg~