Buffy the Vampire Slayer
in a Fan Fiction
Detective Stein, formerly of the Sunnydale Police Department, and now of the LAPD, picked up a cup of coffee and took a sip while single finger tapping at an ancient IBM Selectric typewriter. He was in his third hour of paperwork that morning—he idly wondered when he would finally get a computer. He was fast becoming disillusioned with LA's finest. Oh well, they did hire him in front of some others, and it was better pay. But the best perk was one he couldn't discuss with anyone else on the force: the lack of vampires. Oh he wasn't totally oblivious, he knew there was a thriving demonic underground in LA, but they weren't part of the Mayor's office; and for that he was genuinely grateful.
His phone rang and he spilled coffee on his desk. While cursing lightly he answered the phone, "Stein."
"Detective, there's another gang attack reported."
He listened to the detective Sergeant and wrote the particulars in his notebook. He nodded at the rookie who was his partner that day and stood up. He got his gun from the desk drawer, checked it and holstered it. He checked that his handcuffs, cell phone, radio, and spare clips where in place. He put a spare notebook in his breast pocket and checked his pens. His rookie did the same, "Where to, boss?"
"Coast highway, another gang attack I guess. Sheriff's department is on the scene but want us to take it, since we have at least four other attacks."
Stein and Rookie pulled up behind a Sheriff's car with flashing lights. He looked over and saw six guys in gang colors being attended to by paramedics. He judged they been beat up, but he didn't see any serious injuries. Except maybe one who was still unconscious.
"Hey Stein, howya doin'?" said one of the deputies.
Stein did a double take and answered, "Hey Roberta Bianchi, I didn't know you were in LA! When did this happen?"
"It's Deputy Sheriff Bianchi, now. I couldn't find a detective's opening for anyone as new as I was in Sunnydale. But this is pretty good. And they tell me I'm on the fast track for the detective bureau."
They chatted a few minutes about mutual acquaintances and who managed to get what jobs where. Finally, Stein asked, "So, what do we have?"
"Don't really know what went down yet. These guys all seem to be hiding something. Or maybe they're just embarrassed by something. I hit a wall and didn't push it, figuring you guys would probably take over anyway."
"Oh yeah, someone tossed their motorcycles over the retaining wall onto the rocks."
"Really?" asked the detective as he strolled over to gaze down to the ocean waves. He was surprised to see the several heavy Harleys smashed on the rocks below, a fair distance out from the base of the wall. He mused about how strong one would have to be in order to manhandle one of those heavy bikes over the stone wall.
He turned back to Bianchi and asked, "And they aren't talking about this?" He looked around taking notice of the sidewalk, the road, the wall, the curb, and he seemed not to be able to find what he was looking for. "Did you find any skid marks?"
"Nope, except a little braking patch right over there," she pointed to about where the gang members were lying on the ground.
"Hmmm," said Stein, "looks like the unconscious guy is stirring a little. Let's see if we can get anything from him before he clears his head. You first, wave your tits at him."
"Hey now Stein, that kind of thing is against policy here in lala land," but she grinned as she said it.
The two strolled over and kneeled down by the biker. Bianchi leaned over him and took a deep and calculated breath, "Hey guy, can you tell us what happened here?" She tried to be gentle and smiled at him.
"Uh, some girl," he was shook up as he mumbled, "beat us up and tossed the bikes over."
Stein and Bianchi exchanged frowns.
Bianchi leaned closer and asked softly, "How many were there?"
The biker mumbled incoherently.
"One, there must have been some guys behind us, but I didn't see 'em."
"Did the girl say anything?"
"No, well, yes. But I couldn't figure it out. She said we had to change our name."
"What? Your name? Why would she care?"
The biker mumbled some more.
"Say again please?" Bianchi leaned in even closer and breathed in a little deeper.
"She said we couldn't use the name 'Slayers'. I told her to go to hell! Then she hit me with her feet! The bitch."
"The Slayers?" asked Bianchi, "what's that?"
"The name of our motorcycle club, 'West Coast Slayers'. She said there was only one group of Slayers and we weren't it and to stop using that name or else."
Detective Stein apparently started choking. Bianchi looked up in alarm and realized that he was laughing from deep inside and was trying to keep it down. Unsuccessfully. Bianchi got up and dragged Stein up and away towards the back of his car. The two of them couldn't hold it in any longer and laughed out loud. Much to the confusion of the baffled rookie detective.
Stein wiped tears from his eyes and said, "Well, mystery solved."
"Yeah," asked Bianchi, "how're you going to write it up?"
They were controlled again so they walked back over the the bikers. The chatty one had more or less come to and was now doing an imitation of a rock. Stein crouched down and said, "You boys have come up against this girl before, haven't you?"
No one answered him, but he could see little eye twitches here and there which answered his question. "Or maybe several girls? Yeah? Well, I've got bad news for you. You guys don't stand a chance."
There was some dissension—all aimed at him.
"Now boys, there isn't a thing that the police can do about this. The real Slayers mostly won't notice you. But when they do notice it looks like they get annoyed. Change your name or keep getting beat up, your choice. At least they probably won't actually kill any of you," he paused a moment, looked up and then back down, "and another thing. If you try to retaliate against any of these young women, well, let's just say you'll wish you hadn't."