Reckless: Season 1: Abandon - Act 1
by redmoon
Author’s note: This series takes place beginning in September 1985, in New York city.
Abandon - Act 1
Niki danced the knife between her fingers, the tip striking only the table top, never touching flesh. She danced the knife faster as her annoyance grew. Addison was on with another one of his ‘you’re a disappointment’ lectures.
“I simply cannot condone such reckless behavior and blatant disregard for my authority.” He scowled, drawing his white bushy brows together. “Are you even listening to me?” he demanded, taking a step forward and snatching the knife from her skilled hands. “I’m talking about your attitude,” he said vehemently, shaking the knife by the blade to emphasize. “This is exactly the problem. You don’t care about your duty. You don’t care about the Council’s directives...” he turned away, exasperated, as she continued to ignore him. “You have a job to do!”
“I do my job,” she said evenly. It was nothing but the truth and they both knew it.
“Yes, but you aren’t taking it seriously,” he snapped. “You aren’t doing your job the way the Council has outlined!”
“Why don’t you come out on patrol with me sometime and tell me then that I don’t take my job seriously,” she replied, just as harshly. “The Council isn’t often cornered in a sewer with a pack of vamps, now are they?”
“The Council’s sole responsibility,” Addison lowered his tone, “is to ensure the protection of the innocent. You are their primary weapon in the fight against the forces of darkness. I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you comply with their recommendations.”
“It’s funny, I don’t recall anyone ever asking me if I wanted to be the Council’s tool.” Niki stood abruptly from the kitchen table and began to pace the length of the small, adjoining living room. The apartment was a little cramped, yes, but she was rarely there anyway.
“You were chosen,” Addison said losing all patience. “And we are not going to have that discussion again.”
“Whatever,” she shrugged, almost disappointedly, and turned for the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he took a step to block her way, the knife still in his hand.
“Uh, vampires don’t slay themselves,” she raised an eyebrow, “unless the all-knowing Council says otherwise.”
Addison again blocked her attempt to exit. “You’re going to see that man again, aren’t you?” there was a contempt in his voice that only a Brit could pull off. “That small-claims lawyer, that married small-claims lawyer.”
“Logan,” she said simply. “No, I only see him Monday, Wednesday and Sundays,” she added sarcastically. She really had intended to go find something to make dead. Vampire or not.
“I don’t like you seeing him,” Addison said bluntly. “His a distraction and besides, it immoral.”
“He’s the adulterer, not me. I’m not judgmental,” she shrugged. “And he’s not a distraction. He kills vampires better than you do.” She knew the sting would hit her Watcher where she intended and he dropped his gaze for a moment. She took the opportunity to slip past him and out into the hallway. “I’ll be back whenever,” she offered over her shoulder as she stalked down the hall, slipping her leather jacket on over her frayed, white T-shirt. She tossed her shoulder length blond hair out from under its collar as it settled down around her like a security blanket.
Maybe there would be some new creature in the Nail Biter tonight, she thought. Something new and challenging to kill. The patron, Diego, didn’t like her killing off his regulars, but he didn’t mind being rid of tourists. Even demons hate tourists.
The cold night air greeted her along with the sounds of the ever present New York traffic and the glittering skyline. What a beautiful night to be reckless.
“We’re just passing through,” the big, burly man said, his hands gripping his Harley’s handlebars tightly. The engine growled in response.
“Look pal,” the night-watchman said, aiming the beam of the flashlight across the faces of the two dozen bikers, “this isn’t a parking lot. It’s privet property. The owner would have my head on a plate if I let you stay here.”
The lead biker smiled a wide smile. “Listen to that, boys,” he turned his head to his compatriots, “the man’s offering his head on a plate if we’ll stay here.” There were chuckles. Turning back, the biker’s face transformed beyond the features of a human being. His voice was gruff and guttural now, not to mention hungry. “How can we refuse an offer like that?”
As the guard’s eyes widened and he reached for his baton, the lead biker launched himself from his Softail custom and landed with a snarl before the terrified man. The guard stumbled backwards and turned to run, only to find himself faced with several more leather-clad bikers. They all grinned hungrily as their faces changed.
The guard whimpered weakly as they set upon him all at once, his final cry drowned by the roar of engines as the gang began to move out again.
Niki strolled into the Nail Biter and the usual characters shuffled out. She ignored them. Any who knew enough to fear her deserved to get away. At least, this time. Her little ‘rules’ were quite flexible. Some heavy metal band or other screamed through the background as she waded through the small clusters of tables to the bar.
“Evening, Slayer,” the man at the bar said with no small amount of exasperation. “I can always tell it’s you because my sales plummet when you walk in.” He continued to clean a glass with the white rag under the center of the three spotlights which hung from the ceiling above the bar. The shadows which hung from his face made his long nose look like a beak. His upswept eyebrows drew together as she reached behind the bar for a bottle. His broad smile diminished only slightly. He never really stopped smiling.
“Then you should think about getting new customers,” she suggested, pouring herself a healthy portion of the golden liquid. As the barkeep continued to clean his glass, the slayer frowned and looked around the bar, eventually pawing behind it looking for what she knew he kept somewhere.
“Looking for this?” he held up a vial of white powder. He shook it for emphasis but pulled it out of reach as she made a grab for it. “It’s not good for you.”
“I’m touched that you care,” she said dryly, settling back into her stool, knowing he would eventually give it to her. She fingered her drink without taking a sip, staring down into its golden abyss.
Felix finally set the vial down and slid it grudgingly towards her. Without looking up, she uncorked it and sprinkled some into her drink, being sure not to spill any. Setting the cork loosely back into the mouth of the vial, she swallowed the drink with gusto. Instantly the misery was gone, replaced with a floating bliss and heightened senses.
“Okay,” she said quickly, Felix’ image sharpening and deepening to the extreme. “What have you got for me?”
Felix, who wasn’t always happy about the fine print of his job, set the glass back on the shelf behind him. He began to slowly fold the cloth, over and over again as he spoke. She was blinking rapidly and her eyes were bloodshot. The stuff was never meant for humans. “There’s something coming,” he said taking his eyes from hers. “Something ugly, by demon standards – not like we’re used to in the big apple.”
“A face for radio, gotcha. Anything else?” she was eager now, excited about the prospect of killing something, unlike just about every other minute of the day. Something about the stuff awakened the lust in her blood for it. It was as if she wasn’t really a Slayer until she had the stuff coursing through her veins.
“It’s vampiric,” Felix offered, finally unfolding his cloth and taking the glass back off the shelf to scrub it some more. “It also happens to be the carrier of a rather nasty disease.”
Niki frowned, but in interest, not anger. “A vampire with a disease? That’s impossible. They’re undead, how can they be sick?”
“Well, I didn’t say it was a vampire, did I?” Felix frowned. “I said it was vampiric. It was a vampire, until it contracted the plague.”
“Bubonic?” she asked with a trace of amusement.
“Nosphoric,” he answered, his smile still present, but sharing none of her amusement. “An ancient Macedonian sorcerer’s trick. Only vampires can be carriers, but once they’ve got it...” his smile actually faltered, if only for an instant, “they’re not really vampires any more.”
“What does this sicky want?” Niki asked, sipping gingerly at the remains of her drink. “A cure?”
Felix actually laughed. “No,” he tried to calm his outburst. “Oh, dear me, no.” He shook his head. “You’re so naive.” To her frown he elaborated. “The thing doesn’t know it’s sick. Most of the time, it looks just like any other vampire – that is, just like a human. Only when it needs to feed does it change, and then you can’t miss it.” He laughed again, ironically. “No, it doesn’t want a cure. It wants to wipe out the human race, just like it was programmed to by the plague.” He folded the towel and set the glass back on the shelf. “And naturally, it’s going to start with you.”
Niki sighed resentfully and up ended her glass. “Naturally.”
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