The Dying of Skid317
Here are a few scenes I wrote and then had to delete from the story for a variety of reasons. So in the spirit of DVD 'extras', here they are:
The first one never had anything to hook it to, I'm not even certain who is talking to whom:
"What about the rest of the gang?"
"How many are there?"
"Oh, about two dozen inner core, and another hundred or so hangers-on."
"And the rapists?"
"Well, they're all—oh, you mean just for this crime?"
"Yeah, they're all in the inner circle."
"So what happens when fifty percent of the core group is murdered?"
"More than that really, some of the others have died in other, unconnected crimes."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, two were gunned down by an off-duty patrolman in a convenience store. One got shot by a store owner—it really isn't fair for people to shoot back! And three got burned by a South American gang that's trying to take our territory."
"Burned? As in turned in?"
"No, burned as in set on fire and turned to a charcoal briquette. We think that's some sort of message."
"No, really? You guys are like great thinkers, huh?"
This one was deleted because Gibbs would never allow this:
"Do you mind if we interview the prisoner?" asked Buffy.
"Yes," said Gibbs, "I do mind. But I haven't got a thing out of him, as long as you don't threaten him with bodily harm, I don't suppose it will do any harm. You will be watched and recorded."
Buffy and Faith walked into the interview room as if they owned it. The prisoner, one Jules L. Nelson, grinned when he them enter. He said, "Hey hey, things are lookin' up, why dontcha lose some of them clothes!"
As they sat down, Buffy took a small flat jar out of her jacket pocket and placed it on the table. She unscrewed the lid and used her finger to stir what appeared to be some leaves and twigs. "You mind if I put this potpourri on the table here? I need something to hide the smell of old urine."
Jules looked askance at it. "Pot-poury? That's some fucked up chick shit, right?"
"Yeah," grinned Faith, "that's right. Us chicks like pretty things and pretty smells, right Buff?"
"You got it Faith. Actually Mr. Nelson, this well help you loosen your tongue – think of it as a magic trick."
"Yeah, right," he chuckled sarcastically. "Magic shit, you're fucked up, you know that right?"
"Your inventive command of invective is charming, Mr. Nelson."
He looked at Buffy with puzzlement, "Huh?"
Faith, getting down to business, asked, "Have you been read your rights? You know, all that stuff about the right to shut up and the right to a lawyer and all that stuff?"
"Yeah, many times in fact. I gots the whole fucker memorized."
"And you have specifically waived your right to an attorney?"
"Yeah. I ain't done nothin' wrong and I ain't gonna say anything guilty-like cuz I have nothin' to hide."
Buffy smiled, "Yes, you're the picture of innocence Mr. Nelson, you wouldn't hurt a fly would you?"
"So can you explain why your DNA was found, along with a mess of other DNA, inside Ms. Angela Ruiz's..." Buffy turned to Faith and said, "I don't want to mention female parts to this guy." She turned back and continued, "You know where your DNA was found. How do explain that?"
"Hey, it was consensual."
"That's not what she said."
"Huh, girl couldn't stand that she had so much fun."
Jules wilted under Faith and Buffy's angry glare.
Faith asked quietly, "Why don't you tell us where all this began? We were told that your little party was planned in retaliation for something that happened earlier."
"Nah, twasn't anything like that. It seems that Julio Ruiz was gettin' it on with Jamie's sister. They had a regular Romeo and Juliet thing goin' on. Jamie walked in on 'em one day and man, was he ever pissed! You understand, it wasn't so much the ethnic thing, it was the business thing. Jamie went unglued and Julio and him went head to head. Thas what started the whole war, thas what kept it going. In the end, two gangs was brought down by a piece of ass."
Faith murmured, "That's pussy power for ya."
Buffy frowned, Jules grinned.
"So Mr. Nelson, you say you were a participant in the gang rape of Angela Ruiz and the murder of her brother?"
"You betcher ass. No wait, no, no, not me! Fuck! What's with my mouth?"
"But I can't figure out one thing. According to Angela, she was attacked by twelve men and boys. The DNA evidence shows ten, some physical evidence at the site shows at least two more guys were there. A couple of them were shooting blanks apparently, or maybe they used condoms."
"Or they used a different hole from the rest of us," grinned Jules. Only to quickly look away from the suddenly dangerous looks from Faith and Buffy.
"So how come Angela couldn't identify you?"
"Oh, I was the thirteenth guy, I came in late, by then she wasn't seeing things too clearly."
"And who shot Julio Ruiz?"
"That was Jamie Wilson of course. He's the one had the hate-on."
"And you helped him," purred Buffy.
"You betcha, that cock-sucker couldn't plan his way out of paper sack. It was me that planned the tactics that made us successful! Why, we was pullin' in twenty, sometimes thirty grand a week from the meth alone! Then, on top of that the heroin! Why, we would have been..." he trailed off in confusion.
"You would have been rich," said Faith, "but dude, druggies never end up keeping it. You would have kept going until you exploded in a paroxysm of violence. Oh, wait, you did!"
"I think we've heard enough," said Buffy.
I thought about adding this to clarify a few points, but I decided it was unnecessary since I either wrote well enough that you caught my idea, or I didn't. Most of all, it doesn't fit the tone of the whole piece. And I kind of went off-topic for a few sentences. I rather like it though.
The Ascended Being sat on a cloud, contemplating the universe. All right, it wasn't really a cloud, it just kind of looked like one. It was white and fluffy, and it even had silver lining. Not real silver of course, just something that looked like silver but was a lot more comfortable to sit on. The Ascended – we'll call her Cordy for convenience – sighed as she noticed her Adversary floating up to her level. The Adversary, who we'll call Warren, leered seductively at Cordy. She ignored him pointedly even as he pantomimed lewd acts.
Warren finally sat uninvited across from Cordy and said, "I believe that one of your high and mighty Slayers will lose her soul to me."
A moment, or a millennium, later, Cordy replied, "I think not. She is atoning for her sins, sins that you drove her to."
"Oh," Warren replied sarcastically in a high tone, "she really really didn't mean to kill a bunch people in cold blood and now she's sorry as hell!"
"You know very well that we're all about atonement up here. She knows what she did and she knows it was wrong, look!" Cordy waved dramatically towards reality.
Warren rolled his eyes, but he looked in the direction indicated. He watched Angela for a bit and then he frowned, sneered, and spat on the cloud, much to Cordy's disgust. Finally he asked, "Did I miss something? How come your oh-so-sweet slayer is credited with Jeremy 'Slick' Odom's death? I mean, I have no objection to false accusations and executions of the innocent and all, but I thought you folks up here kept the score accurate? Aren't you all Accuracy is Godly or some such shit?"
"Hmmm? Oh, I see, you did miss something. Rewind a little – you see there?"
"Yeah, your Miss Ruiz grabbed Slick's gun, the little bitch. I wish Slick would've shot faster." Warren looked around expectantly, and was severely disappointed when nothing changed.
"Apparently you were so focused on the gun that you didn't notice that she broke his finger. The next day, his new finger-cast caused him to misalign the bullet in his vise. You can see the cause and effect now, I trust? No one on Earth saw it, but there it is. My Slayer got a clean sweep on her attackers, and has seen the error of her ways. Another win for the Slayers."
"Well," Warren asked with some irritation, "since when is it OK for Slayers to slay the souled?"
"It's not good, it's against the rules. But as long as she atones for her misdeeds, she will be forgiven and join her sister Slayers in the great hall."
Warren knew the answer of course, but he delighted in making Cordy go through the excuses. He said, "But it's still not a clean sweep, there is one left alive, rotting in jail, but alive."
"Oh ye of little wit and limited powers of observation. Robert Ransom will be charged with terrorism in Federal Court since he stole ammunition from the U.S. Navy. Or helped at least. I can look ahead," Cordy closed her eyes and hummed eerily, "and foretell the future. He will be found guilty on all counts and executed in the fullness of time." She opened her eyes and looked straight into Warren. "But you don't have to be a seer to see that, any fool can follow the logic."
In order to try and regain the upper hand, Warren veered, "Ahhh! Terrorism! The great catch-all! A handful of truly guilty surrounded by a sea of innocents who have had their rights abrogated so they can't defend themselves! A veritable Catch-22 worthy of old Lucifer himself."
Cordy glared, "But you don't get the souls, they come straight up here. I don't see what's in it for you."
"Oh Cordy my Cordy, haven't you noticed how many people are so frightened that they are supporting the prosecution of so-called terrorists? Good people are losing their souls left and right! Why, just last month I had to order another pot-full of soul-traps above the estimated allotment."
"Oh, you would have got those anyway, you guys don't have any mathematicians."
"But we have a lot of accountants! That's all we need you know."
"But you didn't get a Slayer! Since the first Slayer was called forth, lo these many millennia ago, you have never won even a single Slayer's soul! You got close, never closer than with Faith, but in the end you've always lost, and you'll lose this one too."
"What about Dana? She's a multiple murderer and still shows no remorse."
"You know very well that Dana is completely off her rocker. You know she gets the 'Dispensation of the Crazed'. Stop wasting my time."
"But I got all the others in the gang! It's amazing how many souls I can gather due to those fun drug laws."
"Yeah yeah," Cordy said with disgust, "laws passed by the devil himself. Look, you know as well as I that those guys were mostly preordained to be losers. If it wasn't for illegal drugs, it would have been armed robbery or murder or something. In fact, I believe that the most I could ever have won over out of the whole gang, is five..."
Warren interrupted rudely, nearly jumping with pleasure, "Nah nah! Five to one! Five to one! You lose! You lose!"
Cordy smiled as close to evilly as she was capable of, and said, "But every Slayer has the potential to save hundreds of souls. Why, just look at Saint Buffy, thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, for her alone. In fact, by some accounting methods she is credited with saving the entire population of Earth, multiple times even."
"Saint fucking Buffy, oh how I wish God would damn that girl! Her soul would be my crowning achievement!"
"That'll never happen. Saint Buffy has already died and gone to heaven and she is a Saint incarnate, the genuine article, anointed in the great hall--so saith Saint Peter--and nothing on Earth, in heaven or hell, in future or past, can change that."
Warren turned away and sulked. Finally, he said, "Hmmph, well, I have new souls to torment. I'll pass along greetings from on high to five of them. I'm sure they'll feel great pleasure when they realize that they could have sat up here if only they'd tried just a little harder. Oh, wait, I'll take the pleasure, they'll take the pain!"
Cordy was infinitely sad as she watched Warren descend into the depths.
(for sure, this time)