Women With Zombie Knives
"You'd be surprised how many people think they're safe, just because they own a front door..."

The blonde was sitting cross-legged on one side of the bed, slowly flipping her way through one file of many. On the floor laid an open briefcase, its contents strewn over the floor. Just about anything of use in the apartment had been taken out of drawers, off of shelves and out of boxes and placed in there. But what Cassandra sought was not in the form of financial valuables. No. She was after information. Specifically, names, contact details and, perhaps curiously, dates.

Their owner? One Jillian Andersen, presently bound to that very same bed. Her mouth closed securely with duct tape. A captive audience, if ever there was. It had been a simple matter of laying in wait until the brunette's arrival home from work. The simple application of a firm grip and blade to throat took care of the rest.

Finding something of interest, the woman removed the page for her own evaluation, circling something with pen. Head turning leisurely to her captive with an odd sense of calm. Perhaps not all that surprising, really. Without anyone raising the alarm, she could potentially do as she pleased for a long time to come.

"I'm going to remove that and let you speak now. I'm going to do it, because I need some questions answered. If you make any loud sounds, it'll go back on and you'll be punished." The instructions came across relaxed and self-assured. Each word emphasised with a subtle movement of the knife in hand. One engraved with peculiar etchings, not too unlike the metal gauntlet upon wrist. For as foreign and primordial as her attire of animal hide was, though, the woman seemed to speak with a perfectly normal American accent. "Am I understood, Agent Andersen?"

Even as she gave a nod of understanding, Jill found herself having no clue what was going on. The incident months ago where Elfleda left the agent a message had been somewhat expected - a by-product of having been digging around one of the many proverbial dirt piles the Corruptress had dug. But this? Some medieval woman rummaging through her belongings after threatening and binding her? Jill had seen some pretty off-the-wall things in her day and this easily took the cake.

Who was this woman? Who did she work for? What was she after? The longer the Agent went without answers, the more nervous she became. The threat with regards to loud noises did little to calm Jill, mostly because she knew having the duct tape removed from her mouth would not be painless. It would probably take all the restraint she had not to yelp or scream at that, and the Agent was not sure she could.

All manner of possibilities ran through Jill's head; maybe this woman was one of Elfleda's disciples, or maybe she was sent by the Senior Partners. Jill always figured Wolfram And Hart would come after her eventually and, even though this was not how she envisioned it, she had to admit her former emplyer was not really known for doing things in an ordinary fashion.

Then again, this could just be some random... Thing. Jill had no way of knowing and that was the primary reason she was so nervous. Not to mention, being bound to her own bed while still in her work clothes by some blonde in something one might see in a cosplay convention did not help matters.

Leaning over, the blonde evidently had no care for making this pleasant. The removal of tape was quick and painful, but she would allow Andersen at least a yelp before threatening to take a fresh measure of the same from its reel as a replacement. "Good girl," her captor spoke, congratulating Jill's holding back on any attempt to scream out for help. Not that it would matter. She could just as easily shut her up and repeat the process later.

"Jillian Andersen... Interned at Wolfram And Hart, 2006. Became Junior Partner, 2009. Switched over for Team Good Guy, a few years later. Indulge me for a moment, Jill," she paused, dangling the blade casually over the brunette's rib cage. "You don't mind if I call you that, do you? 'Jill'? Good, good... Because I'm wondering - just how did you manage that career change?"

How Jill did not scream when the tape tore from her skin was beyond her; she was just glad she managed just a pained whimper. Sure, it sounded pathetic, but compared to what might've happened to her had the Agent actually screamed? For Jill, it was a fair trade-off. Besides, the mysterious blonde already had her bound in her own bed, which was sort of humiliating in its own way.

Jill was unsure she would have enjoyed this, even when she was still evil.

Reluctant to be forthright with this woman - whoever the hell she was - Jill figured she probably should just answer the questions regardless. Who knew? If the Agent was lucky, maybe she would answer the questions, tell the blonde what she wanted to know and then would be free, again. Highly doubtful, but hey... Weirder things had happened.

"Sometimes, it's all about who you know," Jill said, trying to keep her voice steady. "The government offered me a way out, told me they'd take care of the law firm's anger for me. Learned a long time ago you don't pass up once-in-a-lifetime chances like that."

"The government..." The phrase was repeated in a derisive tone. Jill would have no reason to know the precise reasons for why, although it was clear the stranger held an interest relating to her professional conduct. "Irony's definitely got more poetic in my absence, I see."

Jill was no Dana Scully, but much of what she did possess was relevant to Cassandra's needs. With the former lawyer stretched out like that, her captor's relaxed body language only served as a reminder for the distraught nature of the situation. "You're something of an enigma to me, Jill. You pretty much represent the personification of a lot of things I've got a reason to hurt, right now," she explained, tapping fingernail against teeth in mental contemplation. "How do you see your predecessors, Jill? On both sides of the isle? People to look up to or as reputations to out-shadow?"

"Far as I'm concerned?" Jill said, finding a little more courage with every moment she was not attacked. Although she feared an eventual physical strike or some manner of torture, the fact was it had yet to occur. Maybe it still would, if the other woman took issue with one of her answers. Or maybe not; this woman might intimidate her, get whatever she needed and be gone.

Jill hoped for the latter, but expected the former.

"My former colleagues at Wolfram And Hart can die a slow, painful death befitting of serial killers and child rapists," she said, shrugging as much as she could against her bindings. "So, if that's what you're after? Running around and killing every lawyer and Junior Partner the firm spits out? Go right ahead, you have my blessing. Hell, I'd offer to help, were it not for my badge... My new bosses kinda' frown on murder at the workplace."

"Believe me, they really don't," Cassandra replied, her tone half-way between mocking chastisement and jaded educating. "Not when certain things are off the books. You can take that all the way to the bank. I doubt they've changed that much."

Turning now to kneel by her captive's side, Cassandra brought the small weapon aloft, placing the bladed end along one palm in admiration.

"I'm not just some crazy woman with a knife, Agent Jillian Andersen of the FBI... I'm not sure if I even need to explain what this is, considering your past career choice." But a look in the brunette's eyes informed Cassandra that the device was unknown to her. "If I cut you with this, it won't just make you bleed... Did you ever meet zombies, back in the day? It infects you, see. Like a fever, at first, then you start... Vomiting things up. It's long, slow, distinctly agonizing, but you end up turning into a genuine, undead foot-shuffler. Loyal to whoever wields this, of course. The more cuts? The faster it happens... Perfect for raising an army in a hurry. The trouble is, you'll be less than endowed in the arena of language skills, so... The more useful you make yourself, the less inclined I'll be to turn you into an official member of Shamblers Anonymous."

A far nastier fate than merely killing someone. A threat which Cassandra knew to be particularly effective, from past experience. One which was now placed in an almost soothing manner to one side of the FBI Agent's face.

"I'm not just here for Wolfram And Hart, Jill... I'm here for certain members of the Bureau, too - and you're going to help me rip their collective guts out."

It took all the energy Jill could muster to keep from flinching when the blade rest on her cheek - or sit up when the blonde suggested killing some of her present co-workers. Sudden movements struck the Agent as a bad idea when one was held captive. So, for right now, Jill made sure to keep as still as she could, given her nerves. Although she had never heard of the weapon before this encounter, she was fairly certain she did not want to be a victim of it. Being all zombie-fied did not seem conducive to Jill's career, let alone her personal path of redemption.

"You want me to help you kill Federal Agents?" She asked, almost adding how that was a Federal crime. Something told Jill this other woman had no use for human laws.

"Well... I'm sure the majority are retired by now, if that eases your moral conscience," came the blonde's reply. "I already know where to find one... If you're not willing to furnish me with what else I need, I can always have you changed and watch while you eat out his liver. It'll be entertaining, if nothing else."

Taking a hold of Andersen by the jaw, she tilted the woman's head back, then from one side to the other, examining her neck. The tip of her ceremonial blade trailing down, until it met the hollow of throat. Cassandra was being systematically anatomical. Deciding where would have the most beneficial results, if she began now.

"Remember what it was like to screw your colleagues over? Back in the good old days...? C'mon... It's gotta' be like second nature for you, right? Saving your own skin... I remember the good old days, Jill," Cassandra added, leaning in close. "I was there before you even got your first conviction. How many innocents did you send to jail? Or the chair? The needle... The gas chamber... Or maybe prosecution wasn't your speciality. Maybe you just got the monsters off the hook. Was that how it was? Or were you more of a multi-tasker? Had to be something special, from what I've read about your promotions."

There was something about hearing someone else rattle off all the deeds she committed at Wolfram And Hart, which made Jill's stomach churn. She wanted to jerk her head away when the blonde touched it, but decided such a movement might prompt that knife sliding into her flesh anyway. Deciding she did not feel like tempting fate yet again, she kept as still as possible, making sure her ragged breath did not generate into anything more than that.

Because frankly, whimpering and begging were pathetic. She would not let this woman see her that way. If this was going to be Jill's last go around, she was going to do so with as much dignity as could be mustered.

"I did what I had to," answered Jill, knowing fully well, as she spoke, that she enjoyed all the lives she took as a lawyer. "That place? If you weren't the one doing the killing, you had a target on your back. Wolfram And Hart was survival of the fittest personified. Surely you know that... And no, knowing these Agents you want killed are retired doesn't make me feel better. What the hell do you want all this for, anyway?"

Something had been said which caused Cassandra's mood to darken. A most displeased expression on her face, as she responded with a, "No... You never 'had to.' You chose to sign on. That's what all your type do." Then, with a look somewhere between down-to-business and annoyed, a memorized list of names was spoken allowed. While Jill might not know some of them, a few she would at least have heard of. All, though, had one particular thing in common.

"You're going to tell me everything you know about their present whereabouts," she stated expectantly. "You know how karma sometimes comes along to give you a little kick in the ass? I'm here to help it rip off their faces."

"So, you're karma, then?" Jill mentally rolled her eyes, careful not to actually do it. Evil or not, she had always found this sort of thing annoying; how a person would just go about telling of how they were the ones to help balance the scales, as if it was some sacred duty imparted by some higher power. That was not how karma worked; if it was, Jill would have fallen victim a long time ago.

Unless this was it. Which disappointed Jill in a way. She had always been under the impression that karma was something one could not measure and that dealing with its consequences would be a lifelong battle, much like her personal fight for redemption. Jill always assumed those two went hand in hand; if karma was just some blonde girl threatening people with a zombie knife?

"I honestly don't recognise any of those names," she explained.

A look of severe disappointment was shown, before Cassandra back-handed her victim around the side of face. No girly slap to cheek; a closed fist to bone. "Then think harder," she replied, in no mood to suffer either fools or the foolhardy. "I'm sure I can think up a number of equally unpleasant things for you to endure... I've been looking for an excuse to see what a blowtorch does to living flesh."

Evidently, Jill was viewed as expendable. A means to an end. Cassandra wanted to extract information and if she had to gouge out an eyeball or two to gain it, then there was every indication she might just do that.

"Ever been pushed in at the deep end, Jill? The kind of deep end nothing's ever meant to crawl out of? I was. And after what I had to pay to get back here, it's time the meaning of 'sacrifice' got to pay them a visit, instead."

Hissing at the shot to her cheek, trying to steel herself against the sudden throbbing, Jill took a deep breath. Were it not for the bindings - and her severe lack of anything resembling physical strength - the Agent would have lashed out at the blonde already. Hell, as much as Jill enjoyed the thought of breaking free and tossing this woman out the window of her ninth-story apartment, she knew she could not actually do it.

Shame, too; even though the Agent largely outgrew her killing phase, she figured there was no harm in making an exception for someone who saw herself as karma incarnate and enjoyed turning people into zombies for her own enjoyment.

Then again, that would go against her new-found life philosophy.

Going through the names in her head again, Jill sighed. Such memories were hard to come by, in part because she tried to suppress whatever she could. The Agent remembered what she felt she needed to - basically everything she ever did. But the extraneous stuff? The names and faces she had nothing to do with? Jill had no use for those.

But, seeing as how this girl was so insistent...

"Travis Dixon, head of the Internment Acquisitions department at the Dallas branch," she finally explained. "Least, he was last time I heard. We had a client in Las Vegas who needed to do some business with him. Pissed off our own IA Head - if memory serves, Harriet slit the guy's throat over the perceived insult."

Telling of these people made Jill's stomach churn, but out of an interest for self-preservation, she pushed through. "I met Roger Wilburn at a conference when I was an intern. Think he was in the Atlanta branch, not sure what he did. Melinda Crawford was a Junior Partner in Seattle, think she got transferred to Phoenix in 2009."

Another deep breath, the Agent staring at the ceiling. "Those are the only ones I remember, I swear."

"Congratulations, Agent Andersen... Assignment complete."

Everything was memorized. Everything mentally catalogued. Cassandra had waited too long for this moment to foul it all up by being absent-minded.

"The only question is, what do I do with you?" She asked, rhetorically. Standing to feet, the brunette being looked at was now in a fairly precarious position. Had all but signed the death warrants of those she had mentioned, but had also now outlived her usefulness. "Will telling you that, if they're forewarned, I've arranged for you to meet a particularly messy end, help to buy your silence? I'm not worried about the authorities, Jill... Legally, I've been dead for a long time. I just don't want your former superiors getting a heads-up on what's coming."

"They're Wolfram And Hart," Jill said with a shrug. "I have no reason to warn them. Do what you want with them, I don't care."

Sure, such thoughts and feelings went against her newfound faith, but some part of Jill really did not get too concerned about it. If this woman was some embodiment of karma, then the names mentioned would merely be getting their just desserts. While there had been those who worked for Wolfram And Hart who were not fully aware of what they were truly doing, the vast majority did, and Jill had no problem with someone punishing them for it.

Jill was just glad she got out and she was smart enough to realise that did not preclude her from punishment, too. The Agent just hoped her punishment would not be nearly as severe. Until now, she just assumed her daily fight for redemption was her punishment.

"If the Senior Partners find out what you're doing, it won't be because of me. They'd just as soon suck the marrow from my bones, I'm sure."

It was not the Senior Partners Cassandra was concerned with being alerted. It was her targets. An ordinary human being trying to attack such an entity's interests would not survive long, but she was far from ordinary.

"That all depends on your morality, doesn't it?" She countered, the religious iconography in the residence not having been missed. What was still needed, was gathered up; not the slightest regret or apology for having effectively turned the brunette's apartment upside-down in her quest for information. "Then again, considering your history..."

For a moment, Cassandra balanced her knife in such a way as to contemplate using it, after all. She could use a flesh-eater...

"Hmm, too slow," she decided, appearing to conclude things on the basis of logistics, rather than ethics. Her weapon sheathed, as she produced a small pouch, sorting through the contents. "Do you like insects, Jill?"

The Agent felt a rush of relief overtake her when the blonde - whose name she still did not know - put away the weapon. She tried not to let it show, however, thinking this other woman the sort to do something simply because it was the opposite of what the other person wanted. Jill thought giving away that information would be all she had to do. So, she had fully expected the blonde to untie her and be on her admittedly freaky way.

But when the bag was produced and the question of insects was raised, that relief turned into dread, once more. No matter what Jill answered, she was afraid that bag was filled with some nasty creepy-crawlies. The last thing Jill needed was to call a potentially-supernatural exterminator and she did not really feel like letting the critters devour her. Knowing this blonde, anything was possible.

And the last thing Jill wanted was to die for something she did not even do.

"They serve their purpose," she finally forced herself to say. "Well, most of them."

"You could say that..."

From within was retrieved what seemed to be a coiled centipede. A large one, wrapping around her wrist, antenna fluttering the air. Cassandra leaning in, whispering something to the beast. Either it was somehow possessed, demonic in origin or her uttering had been of a mystical incantation. Perhaps all three. What mattered was, once deposited on the bed, it immediately began to crawl over Jill's bound figure.

"It's not a species native to your world," the blonde explained. "In fact, it's got a rather corrosive bite... Enough to melt through steel, if you wish it. In five hours from now, providing you don't give it reason to get protective, it's been given the command to set you free. After that... Well, let's just say I wouldn't waste any time calling in pest control. She's pregnant and you know how some things get when they need to lay eggs... What's the old saying? 'Any port in a storm'?"

Smiling as venomously as what now slinked investigatively over Jill's bed, Cassandra made a mocking little wave of hand before departing.

"Keep up the good work, Agent Andersen..."

[Cassandra written by E.]