Kris Michaels

( Voicemail for Hayden )

"Yeah, I know I promised to send them yesterday, but you've got them now... Yes, check your email." Rhiannon's shoe kicked a broken piece of concrete into the gutter. She was in no particular hurry. The afternoon sun slanted shadows on the street. She stayed in them, on her way back from the small property management company that leased out her house. At least rent, if not her work assignment, was on time. "So you got them. Do they look okay?" She slipped a lock of hair away from her sunglasses. "Alright cool, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Bye."

She closed the cell. Her boss at the tourism board lectured, but he was all bark and no bite. Though Rich Patterson had noticed a -- what was the word he used? -- tonal difference in Rhiannon Lee's work since November, he didn't take any issue with it. Said it was 'edgier'. How graphics depicting Key West as a tropical paradise could be edgy, Rhiannon didn't know. It felt grotesquely pedestrian to her. Whatever. Being a sell-out had its perks.

She looked both ways before striding into a crosswalk. Heat had cracked the white paint and faded it. Too busy staring at the asphalt, she barely noticed the tan brunette coming towards her. Rhiannon looked up only as their elbows met. "Sorry."

The tan brunette in question was one Kris Michaels, on her way home after finishing a shift at the station, looking forward to a well deserved week off. She had all kinds of plans, one of which was to swing into that bar that Hayden worked at, see if she couldn't catch up with him and maybe drag Jenny out with her, the girl could do with having some fun. Simon on the other hand had way too much fun and Kris had had to deal with another random one night stand left in his bed. The asshole had ditched before the woman had woken up, leaving Kris to explain a few things. Less than fun.

( Strange Circumstances )

( The Same, But Not )

As much as everything had changed with the revelation she was a Slayer a lot had actually stayed the same for Kris. She still had a day job and on occasion night job, a lazy partner, a good family and brilliant friends. Hopefully Whistler would be in touch shortly with what she needed to do next, especially as she hadn't been free to attend that party during New Year's, but she felt spending time with her marine on leave brother was more important. Family always came first in her book.

She was currently walking a neighbourhood that she knew like the back of her hand, reassuring the public that in spite of all the recent gang violence the police force was still out there and wanting to keep them safe. It was after all what she'd signed up for, back in the day when she was younger and a whole lot more ignorant than she was at this precise moment in time.

Kris had considered the cross idea, but it went against a lot of things she believed so she settled for always carrying a sharp piece of wood that could be turned into a weapon if needed, hopefully it wouldn't, but as Whistler had pointed out you never could be too sure.

It was only the sound of raised voices that pulled Kris out of her self reflection, frowning as beyond a fence and scattered across two driveways were two arguing men. It wasn't hard to tell that it was going to get physical sooner rather than later, especially with the way they kept pushing one another.

( Not A Good Time )

Some days Kris really hated her job, mostly because it meant on the rare occasions she got any time off inevitably she’d run into somebody she knew from the station that would harangue her in whatever line or store until she knew everything there was to know about all the going ons, including the would be escapee who had yet to turn up again.

The less said on that particular matter the better.

Thankfully she was able to escape or she would have to fake an emergency phone call before she gave herself away because she knew she would, she wasn’t good at hiding guilt. It had been a right pain in the rear when she was younger, meaning she got away with next to nothing.

Kris snuck a cigarette whilst her older brother wasn’t looking, given that he was back in the states for a while and he had an issue with her smoking even though he’d smoked when he was younger. Apparently going into the marines meant you needed to live a clean life, free of vices and other such things.

( Sneaking Cigarettes )

Rationally Kris knew that getting drunk or as close to drunk as she could first thing in the morning was a really bad idea, but she was kind of feeling another bad idea, especially as last night had been completely unreal and she still wasn’t sure what to make of it.

She’d even called in sick - the first time in God only knew how many years. Kris didn’t think she could face Leon or the people at the station, not after what she’d done last night. All in the name of good - she knew that - didn’t make it any easier to live with.

Whistler’s card was sat on the counter beside the bottle that was rapidly dwindling with every gulp she took from it, Kris hadn’t even bothered with a glass.

Simon had noticed and hadn’t even tried to say anything as Kris had her ‘say anything and I’ll kill you with my bare hands’ look on and he knew better than to try anything right now.

He did knock on Jenny’s bedroom door, figuring he should at the very least give her a heads up before she awoke to find the foul beast in the kitchen.

( Monster In The Kitchen )

( Hearing Voices )

( Voicemail Left For Whistler )

OOC: NPC!Simon was played by Mands.

All those years of training - all those years of hard work - all those years of fighting the good fight and this is what you're using it for: burning a car after having wiped yours and Whistler's fingerprints off of it.

You wonder if you're crazy, if you imagined this night, if you made the hatted man up to guide you through a mental breakdown, but you have the physical evidence of bruises and blood to prove that it was real and visceral.

Everything life is and more.

You should move and you know this, but you can't. All you can do is crouch and watch the car burn, billowing smoke escaping into the atmosphere as paint is stripped and metal curls in towards itself.

( Different )

Kris had just gotten off shift an hour or so ago, but after that close encounter with mister likes to bite a lot she had decided that maybe just maybe she deserved and could do with a drink. She'd promised Leon that she would at the very least speak to Jenny about the bite, but honestly Kris didn't know what else Jenny would be able to do given that she had already had all the relevant shots anyways.

She stripped off her jacket as she slid onto a stool, ordering herself a shot of whatever was strongest in this bar. Her hair had been tied up but was shortly let loose and free, curls settling around her shoulders and resting there for a moment until pushed out of the way by a hand that steadily worked at some of the tension.

"God," Kris murmured quietly. "What a night." The white bandage on her neck and the bruises on her face were the telltale signs that this off duty police officer had had a rough night.

She straightened the curve of her back and thanked the bartender for the shot, dropping the hand from her shoulder to clasp the glass, lifting it to her mouth where she swallowed it in one.

( Rough Day? )

( Practical Learner )

( So Getting Fired )

( The Vampire Slayer )

In the weeks Kris had been working this one area of Key West she couldn’t count on one hand the amount of times her and Leon had been called out to this one location with the same code every single night: 10-15.

It was always the same, the guy had gone home drunk and slapped his girl around some until she’d cried bloody murder and the neighbour had made the call. Nothing changed, it didn’t matter how many times Kris and Leon hauled the guy’s ass to jail, he just went right back and did the exact same thing over and over again.

Why the woman never left his ass was beyond Kris and she really didn’t feel like getting into it at the time she found herself turning up at the war torn apartment.

“Not this again,” Leon grumbled under his breath, shifting from behind the wheel, easing his weight onto the dimly lit pavement.

( Something's Different )

Around 2:15a.m., once the last employee left for home, Hayden locked up the bar. The patio faced a marina, crowded by schooners, charter boats, and a few house boats. One of those had already been strung with blue Christmas lights, which made a strange neighbor for the yacht next to it, where a party was in full swing. Music from a steel drum band floated on the air.

Hayden sat down on the end of a pier and pulled a joint from his pocket. He didn't like to smoke at the house because he only rented the bottom floor. The upstairs neighbors, a pair of yuppies saving to buy a condo, complained if the acrid odor got in the air vents. It was easier just to hang out here. He felt a little weak burning one by himself, but things at the bar weren't going that great. His business partner, a laid-back guy named Mike, wasn't pulling his administrative weight and Hayden was debating how to bring it up. He couldn't exactly fire him.

Holding the joint in his mouth, he lit up. Under his shoes, salty water rolled with what passed for waves on Key West.

( Busted )

( Night Jogging )

Always know where to look - always know where to hit - always know where to find them.

These were the thoughts repeating over and over again in Kris' Michaels head as the thick leather soles of her standard issue boots met with the pavement in dull echoing thuds. She'd been on regular patrol when the hairs along the back of her neck had stood to attention, alerting her to what appeared to be some sort of attack. An attack that ended in one man's death and another's flight.

Not that she let him get too far before she was in hot pursuit.

The full rush of blood from head to toe brought about a surge of adrenaline unlike any other that Kris had ever felt. It was almost as if there was purpose to her movement - a sense of the right thing driving her on. Her poor partner was once again left behind in a figurative cloud of dust bemoaning the fact as well as calling the incident in; a man's work was never done.

( Hear That A lot )

Always know where to look - always know where to hit - always know where to find them.

These were the thoughts repeating over and over again in Kris' Michaels head as the thick leather soles of her standard issue boots met with the pavement in dull echoing thuds. She'd been on regular patrol when the hairs along the back of her neck had stood to attention, alerting her to what appeared to be some sort of attack. An attack that ended in one man's death and another's flight.

Not that she let him get too far before she was in hot pursuit.

The full rush of blood from head to toe brought about a surge of adrenaline unlike any other that Kris had ever felt. It was almost as if there was purpose to her movement - a sense of the right thing driving her on. Her poor partner was once again left behind in a figurative cloud of dust bemoaning the fact as well as calling the incident in; a man's work was never done.

( Hear That A lot )

Please note that this journal is restarting as of 14th November 2009

The park was hot, the sun bearing down in the sky, and Connor had a bottle of water against the heat, lifting the hair away from the back of his neck so he could place the object there. A watch check said it was one fifteen. He'd spoken to Kris a couple of hours ago, asked if she wanted to hang out a little. The Slayer had sounded okay over the phone, at least to his ears, but he doubted she was what could be described as 'better'.

Still, he was going to keep it casual. Not like he wanted to interfere in anything, he just wanted to check on how she was. He liked to think that the two of them were friends, and friends looked after each other in whatever way they could.

The Destroyer took the cap off of the bottle, drank some of the cold contents. Just making a quick check-in, that was all he was doing.

( Relating )

The fugitive Kris had been walking the back alleys and the shadows of this Chicago for the last few hours, trying to go as far as she could without losing her way back.

She was beginning to think she'd never find anything when the sounds of a scuffle stopped her dead in her tracks. Immediately she hugged the wall and edged along it, peering around the corner to watch from a safe distance. Kris wasn't special, not like Francess, or strong, like the vampires, but she was good at being sneaky.

It was one of the talents that had at times served their cause well, even if their cause was mostly centered around running for their lives a lot of the time.

Kris stopped dead in her tracks as she found herself looking at... herself, but not. This woman was tough, like the Inquisitor Bethany tough, managing to manhandle at least three men on her own. How could she do that?

It wasn't possible, unless...

Her breath caught as the other her turned her head and locked gazes with her for a moment. It took the fugitive Kris less than a second to turn on her heel and run, fearful of the power that the other her had and how it could turn against her.

Bethany worked for the enemy after all.

****

( Email to Hayden, Rhiannon, Toby, William, Izzy, Connor, Whistler, Logan, Sonya, Faith, Juliet )

( Handwritten letter addressed to Hayden )

Breathing, it should be the easiest thing in the world, but when caught up in the throes of an unpleasant dream it's the hardest thing imaginable. It's like your drowning and because you're lost in the subconscious trap of your own mind there's no escape. I know of all things I should be sleeping and recovering my strength and yet I'm not, I'm wide awake and watchful. Suppose that comes from having spent too many nights with one eye open, expecting a set of fangs in my neck.

Freedom, it's funny how much is based on... having very basic human rights such as being able to control what you do, where you go and what you say. I don't think I ever realised how fragile something like that is, all it takes is one explosive collar and suddenly you no longer have any control and the worst thing of all is that your life rests in the hands of cruel bitch.

Even if she did a number on me whilst she had her claws in me, the whole cruel to me one minute only to soothe the pain away a few seconds later. There's a word for that, somewhere, but I can't think of it this early in the morning.

I thought escaping her would be the hard part, but I was wrong. The hardest bit is still yet to come: working out what to do with my life. Those people... they tore my life apart, shredded it like it meant nothing, and I'm not sure how to handle that. It's so surreal, how much... changed and how much stayed the same, it's disconcerting how much the world at large doesn't miss you and how my apartment was seemingly frozen in time.

That skull... some poor Slayer somewhere is buried without her head, it doesn't feel right. How many lives did she save? How much did she sacrifice? And for what? To go to her grave without her head. It really makes you think, you know?

I just need to pull myself together, get back on my feet, bounce back and... I suppose I should talk about what happened, but there's a part of me that doesn't want to. I did a lot of things I'm not proud of and Hayden says the only person I need to square that with is myself, but that's easier said than done. I don't even think I want to look at myself in the mirror right now, I'm afraid I won't like what I see.

I just wish I could forget it all and quit picking the initial fight apart, all the things I could have done differently, none of it matters.

I hate how I feel so... out of place and I hate how easy it was to get used to that collar.

I hope the explosion doesn't kills her.

I'm stronger than this, I have to be.

Returning to the place where she'd spent weeks of imposed exile was probably not the best idea in the world, but this time she had Hayden and she had a plan. Just taking the collar off wouldn't be enough to satisfy Kris. She had to give that bitch of a vampire a taste of her own medicine, she deserved it.

She'd used a payphone to call Katherine, to let the vampire know she was "running late" because she was overdue and Kris didn't want her triggering the collar. Kris blamed Bethany. It wasn't like she cared about whatever consequences came to light for that. Bethany wasn't a good person.

Getting in wasn't really a problem considering Kris knew how. Planting the collar took a little bit more thought. She was oh so tempted to break the lock and put it in with the Slayer skull, but something in her made her stop, a leftover sense of... loyalty, or what-the-fuck-ever.

Kris finally found somewhere, a place Katherine would never even think of looking and left it there, waiting for the button to be pressed. God, Kris hoped she pressed the button, she really did.

( Simple Things )

( Never Give Up )

( Do Me A Favour... )

Another day, another job, more blood on her hands.

Of course Kris was trying not to fixate on that as she used the dead creature's last cents worth of money to dial a number from a payphone. She left bloody fingerprints all over the numbers and as she listened to the dialling tone she did her best to rub them away with the edge of her top, watching as it smeared into the light material.

It was a miracle people didn't think she was some luckless homeless person.

Hayden's answering machine kicked in and Kris took a breath. "Hayden, it's me. Katherine's talking about turning me and I'm beginning to think that triggering this collar is better than an eternal life as one of her." She swallowed shakily and licked her split lower lip. "But having said that I think there's a way for us to meet up, maybe do something about this collar? Least that's what I'm hoping. Been praying to a God I don't even believe in that you've been working your magic." She gave a weak laugh and then took one more breath. "I'll be at Bethany's club in two days, at about two in the afternoon, I'm supposed to be picking up what she owes Katherine for a job sh- we did."

The Slayer glanced over her shoulder then turned back to the phone receiver she was cradling in her hand. "It's gotta be quick though, Katherine has me on a tight leash. If I'm gone too long she detonates this thing anyways." Kris raked her bloody fingers into her hair, completely forgetting that the blood was still wet so it stained the long strands of hair various shades of blue. "I guess if all goes well I'll see you there."

Kris reluctantly hung up the receiver and turned to the dead demon, swallowing hard as she crouched down and removed its teeth as requested by Katherine. Apparently they reached a tidy amount on the black market. It was frightening how alike demons and humanity really were, this latest display of turning on your own kind for profit had more than proven that.

The sooner she was out of this imposed slavery and isolation the better, but if it came down to a choice between being turned and being blown up? Kris would pick blown up and find a way to make it happen.

"Y'know, you're really not so bad when you let yourself loosen up about this..."

Kris Michael's captivity had involved harsh discipline, it was true. This evening, though, had been another one of Katherine's attempts to see if carrot might work better than stick. They were locked in without the possibility for escape, but that was no barrier to the vampiress ordering in the girl's choice of food and alcohol. A girl's night in, as it were. Or at least, as close to being one as possible, considering the explosive collar now in constant residence around the Slayer's neck. A permanent enough fixture, though, to almost be forgotten about. So long as she did nothing stupid, it was in no danger of being set off.

So, there was Katherine, sitting on the couch, booted feet resting by heels on the coffee table strewn with whatever Kris had requested, beer can in hand and, to all intents and purposes, acting very unlady-like. In other words, being every bit the Katherine she known for. Over by one side, a large, flat-screened television played one of several films the pair had swiped on their latest criminal excursion.

"That jacket suits you y'know," the vampiress complimented with sincerity. "Told ya' it would."

( A Verbal Exchange )

( About Those Watcher Types )

Kris was a prisoner, this much she was aware of, but just because she was subject to Katherine's whims she wasn't about to roll over and make any of this enforced isolation easy on the vampire.

She hadn't done as she was told, even under threat of the collar being detonated right there and then if she didn't do as she was told, thankfully it hadn't come to that. Kris might have been a lot of things, but ready to die was not one of them.

The vampire hadn't been pleased and hadn't been shy about showing it, doing that thing where she yanked on Kris' hair and bared fangs. That had come to a head in the most of bizarre ways, a forced kiss, one that had ended with Kris biting down really damn hard on Katherine's lower lip until the kiss was finally wrenched away, a welt rapidly rising along the abused flesh.

The bitch deserved it.

Of course now a lesson had to be learnt, that was how this fucked up relationship of captor and captive worked. Kris hissed in a breath as she nursed a bruised side from where the vampire had unleashed a well aimed and quite precise kick, meant to double her over and it had, for just long enough.

Katherine had dragged her, kicking all the way, back to her room and chained her to the wall. This time the cuffs were tight enough to cut into skin and cause bruising, just another side effect of the lesson.

She'd murmured something about the darkness and how the Slayer should get used to it because if Katherine had her way it would be one of the last things she saw before she was Katherine's latest childe, chained to her forever. Realisation of what Katherine intended to do dawned on Kris moments later as the room was submerged into darkness and all she could hear was the creak of the door and the sliding of locks.

"You can't leave me in here!" She hollered, knowing her words were falling on deaf ears.

Kris let out a shallow breath and sagged back against the wall, trying not to let the darkness consume her, tried to pull on the chains, but to no avail. She was trapped in the dark and the only source of light she could see was a small slither across the bottom of the door, but even that was sealed off a few moments later.

Her fingers sought out the necklace that still adorned her neck and clung to it like a lifeline, ignoring the way in which the edges of the wheel dug into her palm.

She'd get out of this, she had to.