Reckless: Season 2: Enterprise - Act 1
by redmoon
Enterprise - Act 1
Previously on Reckless...
Niki (dressed as a junkie) - “What’s it worth?”
Fang Junkie, discards the silver bracelet - “He doesn’t want it. Go away.”
Niki, insistently - “How much did it cost you?”
Junkie Vamp - “It cost me... too much,”
* * *
Goth Vamp Dealer - “How many and when?”
Niki (dressed as a Goth) - “One hundred sixty six – within the next twenty four hours.”
* * *
Niki - “Do you have what I asked for?”
Goth Leader - “Not here.”
Gunfire and car chase through residential Freeport. Niki and Goths evade and stop in front of small building...
Rachel rushed out the door to find Logan brushing himself off. He immediately recognized the fearful and confused expression she tended to get whenever these sorts of random things happened.
“It’s okay,” he said gently, “let’s not make a big deal about it. Just a car chase– yes and gunshots,” he added before she could cut him off, “and half the neighborhood will have called the police by now, so let’s just go inside and have some dinner.”
“Dad, are you okay?” Hanna called from the partly open front door.
“Hanna, go back inside right now,” Rachel commanded, pointing to emphasize, but the girl’s worried look was fixed on her father.
“I’m fine honey,” Logan said with a half smile, “go on back inside, I’ll be there in a minute.”
Once Hanna had disappeared again into the glowing warmth of the lighted house, Logan and Rachel made their way toward the front door. Rachel smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t scare me like that!”
Logan made a little sarcastic frown. “It was a car chase, honey, I don’t think there was much I could have done to prevent it.”
“All the same,” she warned, “this neighborhood is getting more and more dangerous every year.”
“Well, in a few months, if I get this promotion, maybe we can afford to move...”
Rachel kept the sour look as she stepped through the door into the deceptively warm looking house. “Well it won’t be soon enough.”
Logan let the door close with a sigh.
Standing near the hedge was a figure robed in darkness. The warm glow from the house’s windows stung his eyes and the smell of happiness was offensive. He bared his fangs.
Niki blinked rapidly in the darkness of the building into which the Goths had led her. She could smell that this was no warehouse. Carpet. Cheap fabric office cubicle dividers. Toner. She walked as naturally as she could in the direction she hoped the Goths were leading her. Eventually she felt space open up around her and when a series of lights flickered on, she found herself in a drab conference room.
With a stoic Goth on either side of her, she looked across a plain wood table at three vamps. The center one was the most ornately pierced and also had a black snake tattoo, running up the side of his neck onto his face, whose head was turned and looked like it was about to bite the vamp’s eye. His hand rested on a large black case which sat on the table.
Niki suppressed a pang of disappointment. This was not where the bracelets had been manufactured: There was neither metallurgical equipment nor magical paraphernalia with which to create them on a large scale. In fact, there was no evidence that the Goths spent any time here at all. Just a meeting place.
After eyeing her for a moment, the tattooed vampire unbuckled the case and opened it on the table. He reached inside and drew a small, black, silk bundle. Unwrapping it he offered the silver bracelet for her to inspect.
“On hundred and sixty six,” he said calmly, his hands resting again on the case. Each one no doubt crafted meticulously, individually wrapped in silk and transported here from... where? The Slayer cursed her naiveté. Of course they wouldn’t do business on the factory floor. She thought quickly.
“How do I know they will pass inspection by the Slayer?” the words sounded odd in her mouth. How exactly did vampires speak of her when she wasn’t around? Were they afraid of her? Did they show some kind of reverence, contempt or just plain hatred?
“Each one is crafted precisely to duplicate the original.” The tattooed Goth tilted his head slightly as if this was an almost insulting question. “There is no way for a mere human to tell the difference.”
“But the Slayer has a magical friend,” Niki said quickly. “Are you saying he could tell the difference?”
The Goth with the snake was silent for a moment as he seemed to stare into the heart of the woman before him. “We thought of that,” he said at long last, taking the silver trinket and wrapping it again in silk. “He is being taken care of. I assure you your coven will be safe when they arrive provided they wear our product.”
Niki’s hands slid into her pockets. “That’s all I needed to know.” With a sudden blur of steel, she drew the vicious preditor from her pocket and sliced through the throat of the vamp on her right while simultaneously shattering the jaw of the vamp on her left with the tightly clasped brass knuckles. The two simultaneous shouts of pain accompanied the look of surprise on the face of the tattooed vamp and his two coworkers who quickly drew knives and leapt over the table upon the Slayer.
Niki was quick to jam the knife-like preditor into the ribs of the first, using his weight to drive it deep. She then launched his deadweight into the other attacking Goth, discarding the brass knuckles in favor of a stake. In a flash the vamp with the blade still in his chest was dust and Niki was grappling with the second.
The Slayer was slowly bringing the tip of the wooden spike into position to thrust into his heart, her wrist still in his grasp, when the vamp’s chest exploded and spattered her with blood. The vamp blinked in surprise. With another loud bang, another section of his chest erupted and Niki felt a searing pain across the top of her shoulder. The vamp she was fighting let out a grunt of pain as another bullet passed through him and finally Niki’s stake found its way into his heart.
Through the ash which fell to the floor, Niki could see the tattooed Goth standing calmly behind the table, a sleek, silver semiautomatic in his hand.
“Enough” he said simply. The vamps on either side of the Slayer were slowly standing. One had his hand across his slit throat and the other was cradling his shattered jaw. Niki clenched her jaw. The fiery pain in her shoulder was starting to take up all her attention.
The Goth with the tattoo kept a perfectly stoic expression as the two escorts grabbed Niki and held her before the barrel of the gun.
“Any last words, Sl–” the gun exploded from his hand with a bright spark. Two more shots caught the tattooed vamp in the face and he was down. Niki couldn’t tell what was going on until she saw a fist flying at the already shattered jaw.
With the second vamp’s attention distracted, she jammed her elbow into his ribs and dashed for the door, feeling the presence of someone behind her. She ran all the faster. Once she was outside in the cool air of night, she side stepped the entrance and extended a foot. Sure enough, with a curse in the darkness, a figure stumbled over her foot onto the pavement, quickly rolling onto his back and raising his gun.
Niki squinted down at the figure with puzzlement. She had never seen him before. Tentatively she raised her hands. He wasn’t a vampire. “Uh, don’t shoot, please.”
Harrison very carefully lowered his gun. She certainly didn’t look dangerous, not carrying anything pointy. And she was injured.
Niki winced as the disinfectant was dabbed over the gash. The bullet had only nicked her, but that wasn’t much of a comfort now. The Goths carried guns. This was something she would have preferred to know before getting involved with them. Since guns were rarely lethal to other vampires, unless shattering the spine, the only reason to carry them was protection against Niki herself. Although somehow flattering, it introduced another variable into her job. These weren’t scum anymore. They were a high class enemy.
“So what were you doing in that warehouse?” Harrison asked, dipping the cloth into the bowl of hot water. Internally, wheels were spinning. He tried to keep his eyes on the wound. It was difficult considering he was actually standing in the home of the Cremator. From what he had gleaned from the casual glace he had afforded himself, it was an average apartment. Perhaps a little messy and still hanging on to an age where floral was the way to go, but normal. Somewhere here, however, was the proof he needed.
“I could ask you the same question,” she said, wincing as he cleaned the wound. She had invited him here primarily to avoid having to go to Logan for help. It wasn’t a leap to assume he had been the man in the car chasing them and shooting at them all the way through Freeport. What his interest was in the Goths or the bootlegging was what Niki couldn’t figure out.
“I asked first,” he said with a smile, wringing the water from the cloth and rummaging around in her cupboards looking for a bandage or possibly something incriminating. Unfortunately he found the bandages first.
Niki shrugged. “Just doing some dumb things with some bad people.” She tried to plant an innocent smile. “What youth is all about.”
“They would have ended your youth very abruptly if I hadn’t been there,” Harrison noted.
Niki swallowed. He was starting to sound like Addison. “Alright, I answered your question. Now it’s your turn.” He was silent while he applied the bandage . Finally he sat down across the small kitchen table from her.
“Alright.” He folded his hands and all false amusement melted from his face. “You, Niki Valtaine, are a serial killer.”
Niki was stunned. What the hell was he talking about? Her mouth was suddenly dry as she recalled the woman on the news. The woman the Deceivers had tricked her into killing. Did he know? How could he? Why wasn’t she in handcuffs? “Uh... what?” was all she managed.
“You’re a serial killer,” Harrison repeated. “And I’ve been following you for a while now. I know you killed the Brandon woman and I’ve personally seen you incinerate dozens of others.” His tone was so candid that he might have been telling her that he had personally seen her using the wrong coffee brand.
“You’re crazy,” she insisted, still sitting as he shrugged at her denial. “You’re really fucking nuts, you know that?”
“You’re too young to be the original Cremator, but I think you heard about the case in the news or on some cheesy cop show and decided it fit your style.” The FBI agent crossed his arms. “You took her name and you took her MO, starting the killing spree all over again,” he wagged a finger at her with a sly grin, “but you were sloppy. You didn’t burn that last victim, we found her and we’re going to link you to her... and I’m going to take you down.”
Niki’s head was swimming. They couldn’t... could they... Link her to that woman’s death? “Crazy,” she muttered.
“That’s what my superiors said,” Harrison agreed, nodding. “And, granted, I still haven’t figured out how you incinerate your victims, but I’m telling you now that there’s nothing you can do and there’s nowhere you can run where I won’t follow.” He leaned in close, his experience as an interrogator telling him he had her where he wanted her. “I’ll be behind your shadow. You blink and I’m there. You were sloppy enough to leave a body once; you’ll trip up again. And I’ll be there.”
Niki slowly stood, her eyes cold and her hands trembling. Just what she needed. Another enemy. And this one couldn’t be killed without raising questions. “Get out,” she said hoarsely, her finger pointing towards the door. “You don’t have a warrant. Get the hell out.”
Still with the self-satisfied smirk, Harrison rose and strode towards the door. “I’ll just be downstairs if you need me,” he said sarcastically.
The door slammed behind him, leaving Niki in her torn and bloodstained shirt blinking at the unrelenting obstacles the universe in its fucking infinite wisdom was throwing at her.
She slowly closed her eyes and sank back down into the chair. Shit.
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