Chapter II

The front door buzzed louder than a mosquito right next to her ear on a hot summer night. She groaned and moaned, not wanting her beautiful experience known as sleep to end. Francine awoke with a gammot of yawns and stretching, she walked barefoot over to her curtains and pulled them open, revealing the bright Los Angeles sun then proceeded to the front door. She opened the front door and there stood a slender guy, with little colour wearing a red and gold uniform with the name "Melvin" sewn into the shirt with a tray of breakfast and the morning paper.

"Here you go ma'am, and enjoy your day." he said as he pushed the trolley of food into her room.

"Thank you, Melvin, here you go." she responded as she dropped a two-dollar bill in his hand as he exited the room.

She was going to enjoy the day. She didn't have to work at the studio today. A day of laziness and junk food filled her every thought as she scarfed down her breakfast and read the morning paper. Her good mood suddenly came to a halt when she read the headline on the second page. At least ten people were found dead on the other end of the city. Six men and four women were found dumped near a quarry last night, and all had unusual marks and contusions on their lower neck and shoulder. She threw the paper on the rug beneath her feet and she got that angry spoiled girl face on with her arms crossed and she slumped back into the couch.

"I'm cursed."

"No, your chosen."

She looked behind her and saw Christophe standing there, with an emotionless face, which was nothing unusual. He took his overcoat off and slung it over the arm of her rocking chair. She knew why he was here, he had read about the murders in the paper and had come to spend the afternoon training with his charge.

"Don't you ever knock? I could have been undressing or something." she said as she shot a glare at him.

"It was worth the risk."

"Well, it's the first day in six months I haven't had to spend all day in the studio under hot lights, so I am going to spend it leisurely; my way."


"No, I am your watcher, and you are the slayer which means you have a responsibility to all those people out there to protect them from evil." he told her as if he was ordering her around like some slave, "Now change your clothes we are going to train." not taking his serious look off his face for a moment.

"Yes, I am the slayer but I'm also an actress and I can't be going on these life or death missions all the time and get all bruised up. Because if those bruises and cuts show up on camera, people will be talking." she shouted back at him. Knowing she could shout as loud as she wants because every body will just think she rehearsing lines for another movie. "So, this career of yours is more important to you than your sacred birthright?" he asked, wondering how these words could be coming out of this girls mouth.

Francine looked at the floor, trying to avoid eye contact with her watcher, who was the closest thing to family as she had. "To tell ya the truth Porter, right now it is. I mean, the long work hours and the hot lights in a hot studio are worth it to be remembered for something ten or twenty years from now, even if I won't be around to see any of the recognition, because I know what being the slayer means. Being the slayer means a short, brutal life filled with blood and pain and death; I know every time I step into a cemetery or a crypt I am risking my life." when she finally finished ranting, her eyes began to tear up.

"Well Francine, if that's the way you feel, I'll leave, but don't let those poor souls that died last night feed and kill anymore people; not that you can. You can't escape your destiny. If you won't go after them, then I will." he said. "Just go." she said, making zero eye contact with him.