"The Metropolis Story..."
Archived at the Buffy Rebecca verse, . You might want to take a gander at the Cicelyverse page to get a handle on the Cicely Addams material... .
Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...
Summary: Poet/Champion turned reporter/Champion (the vampire thing was involuntary) for the second least respectable news organization in Metropolis, William Soames Walthrop is assigned the job of uncovering the mysterious silence of a famed, deceased silent film star of the great film inspired by the greatest city on Earth. Both the other reporter/Champion and other reporter/seedy investigator of things mysterious in town hate his guts.
Part V...
Theme from "The Night Stalker..."
A dark street, with a single flickering streetlamp...An abandoned car, rusting slowly away by the curb corner...An antique cast-iron fence, rising to seven feet, blocking access to the city's oldest cemetery, final haven for both the long-forgotten elites and the never-known. Light rain with mist obscuring some of the less appealing aspects of the scene, both in the few human derelicts and the debris scattered about...
A lean, intense man, in battered but jaunty hat, worn, badly wrinkled, white suit, striding along. Eyes alert, ears keen...No need to see the grubby "press" card showing out of his breast pocket. This is a born reporter...
But no scandal involving some crooked pol and his mistress in a sordid rendezvous or a sinister meeting of underworld types...Human, that is...Has brought him out here, against his better judgment, but in full alignment with his journalistic instinct. The story here is not of this sad, dirty, dangerous world. But the even sadder, more dangerous, and often much filthier, next...
Yes, in contrast to every fiber of his practical nature he seeks proof of what cannot be...Of things others would insist are best left filed "Unknown" and even better, unspoken...
He stiffens at the sudden growl coming from behind the iron fence, further down the street. Close to the entrance to the old cemetery...
Some...Thing...Is there...
Waiting...
Sensing...
The Thing he's been seeking, he's little doubt. Pulling out a cross from his suit pocket...
"Karl? That, you?" a voice calls. "Could ya give me a little help here?"
"Liam?" the reporter peers to see the tall figure in black now emerging from the cemetery shadows. Carefully leading another figure, smaller...Slighter...
Female...And the source of the growling...In that she continues still...
"Is that?" Kolchak eyed the figure firmly held in Angel's grip, struggling rather feebly. Clearly fearful of her captor and the new-comer...
"Yeah..." Angel sighed. "But fully human now, don't..."
His words belied as the female broke free with a howl and lunged at Kolchak, pausing at the sight of the cross...
Staring, curious...As Angel quickly stepped to protect the reporter, without blocking her view of the sacred artifact.
"See Dru?" Angel said gently. "It can't hurt you now. I wasn't lying to you."
"So..." Kolchak sighed to his "ace" and, sole, reporter, William, as they sat in his new office, door securely shut, despite the late hour and near-empty building. "Angel offered me the story, to print with false names of course, in exchange for helping 'Margaret' to a new life here. Since I owed him several times over from my previous LA escapades...And it was the story of a lifetime...Several, in fact...I agreed. Tony, on hearing my pal, the CEO of the new O'Connor-Wolfram-Hart, wanted to secretly pay the salary for his 'cousin' to break into the business, was only too happy to take on the free help with no questions. Angel's psychiatrists completed their therapy, with a little of that hocus-pokus magical manipulation thrown in. Though she was eager to be free of the past...And 'Margaret Waverly' was born..."
"That was decent of you, Karl..." William nodded. "I'd heard Angel's version and he'd given you fair praise but it was a risk to take her on like that..."
"I knew the story, somewhat. And all I did was help her settle in here and keep an eye on her..." Kolchak shrugged. "I kinda like a chance to help one of you escape, instead of always having to croak you and hope Heaven awaits. And she'd suffered enough, God knows."
"Enough for several lifetimes, yeah. Are you sure she can handle this? London's sure to stir up old, bad memories. Not to mention encounters with the Council, people she's met as Dru."
"She has to face it all someday, kiddo. Besides, we've briefed your friend, the Chairman, and he's promised to alert everyone there. If something happens, well...You and I will be there to get her through."
"My friend...Lets hope he doesn't plan to use her for some kind of experimentation on the long-term effects of vampiral possession. Or to see if his Slayers can be made to kill formerly Undead types who seem fully restored to humanity. A bit of field testing..."
"They play rough, eh?"
"Self-appointed Guardians of Humanity...And they like to keep it that way. Still, Giles is a good enough egg, concerned about his girls almost as much as the Greater Good and all that. A lot of them treat the lassies as utterly expendable, so it's some improvement."
"Tough life, if so...The ladies, I mean."
"The worst imaginable...One I would not wish on anyone, much as I honor them." Will noted. "The only release being death. As graphically illustrated in the case of our girl Brigitte. Death and peace, if they're lucky...Eternal Undead horror if not."
"But she did better..." Karl eyed him. "And your friend, Ms. Summers, seems to be doing better."
"At a price, far as the lady of our interest is concerned. And what that price might have been is really what the heart of this story is, I think." William pondered. "Which is why we have to see what the archives hold to begin this..."
Kolchak nodded...But noting the clear desire to avoid further conversation on the living Slayer did not pursue that line, despite his instinctive desire to glean all the details of a good tale.
"Well, we won't be spending much time with them in any case. Just poke through whatever they've got on our German lady and then...Berlin, I guess, eh?"
"Best place, to start..." Will nodded. "And of course we should check out any family remaining, there's some in Switzerland."
"She died, to be reborn free. Not a bad angle, Walthrop..." Karl smiled.
"All depends on the price paid, Karl."
"Hey buddy...Ya wanna a dog?!" the vendor at the hot dog cart on the corner near the Planet Building, a middle-aged woman, bit hefty yet not unattractive at a glance, called to a Clark Kent just emerged from said building, glancing round.
Lois said she'd... "Uh, no, thanks..."
"I think ya could use one. Here..." she came over, holding out bun with frankfurter. "Pickles, mustard like you like..."
"What?"
"Here, you idiot..." Lois' voice. "Just take the damned thing and come over to the cart..."
"You like...?" she switched voice and eyed him as he gingerly took the sandwich and managed a bite.
Hmmn...Actually, pretty... "Uh, very good, thanks." he nearly choking as she yanked at him.
"Come on..." she hissed.
He followed her over. She regarding him in his trademark suit and overcoat, hat, glasses...
"Are you going over to stake out INS like that?" she shook her head. "Why don't you just ask Will Walthrop to let you tag along as his comic relief sidekick?"
"Well..." he paused, a bit sheepish. "I figured we'd be in a cab, waiting..."
"He takes the subway. Like a good reporter." she frowned. "Haven't you learned anything about him?"
More than you know or I could risk telling you...he thought, frowning back a bit.
"I guess we should do something to conceal ourselves..."
"No...I should..." she corrected. "You've no hope of covering up that Hicksville image. You're the bait, I'm the hunting dog. But forget the cab, stick to foot power."
"But if you have this thing." he eyed the cart.
"I rented it. The owner will come along and I'll just be another customer or tourist, out for lunch. Ready to trail while he's occupied dodging his 'nemesis' shadow from Iowa."
"Lois...I don't want you going alone on this."
"Then don't lose him..." she smiled. "But my money's on him losing you in ten minutes, tops. Clark...Either I'm a reporter working with you in equal shares on this assignment or I do this solo. I'll keep in touch. And if you do your job I won't be alone."
He sighed...
Ok...
"Five bucks..." she eyed him