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It sounds like the start of a children's alphabet book. Vi is in Venice, vanquishing vamps. Rona is in Rio, ravaging revenants.
And Faith? Faith is in Fresno, and it fucking sucks. For some reason, everybody gets real jumpy whenever the escaped convict suggests getting a forged passport.
What she does get, since everybody else is the fuck out of Dodge, is the assignment to check out reports of a possible slayer sighting in Fresno, California. Reports of three dead weres and a lone survivor -- a pretty young woman -- seem a little too Yahtzee! to Faith, but since she's the only one available stateside, she's the one who goes.
Nobody's hiding, and the moment Faith lays eyes on the person she's come to see, questions are answered. The same age as Faith, if this woman ever had any potential, it has long passed. In an alleyway behind a bar, the woman is taking on three opponents with her fists. It's a catchweight fight; any of the three guys alone would outclass the woman by far. Lucky for her, it's clear she has a much higher degree of training, and -- Faith discovers as she watches -- a stun gun. When what appears to be the ringleader drops like a sack of potatoes, his buddies turn tail and leave him in the dust. The woman stoops to roll him over and begins to pat down his jacket.
Curious, Faith starts to move in toward the tableau. The woman finds what she's looking for, and fishes in past the open zipper of the man's jacket.
"Pretty cold, girlfriend." Faith clicks her tongue in mock disapproval.
The woman doesn't flinch or hesitate, continuing to withdraw what appears to be a folded envelope and tucking it into the inner lining of her own jacket. She straightens up with a toss of her hair, turning to fully face Faith.
"Just taking back what's mine," she says coolly. She's squaring up to confront Faith, and though she hides it well, she's still breathing with exertion from the fight.
"From what I saw, you gave him plenty," Faith says.
"Asshole's as loyal as his cronies," the woman says, jerking her chin over her shoulder toward the flight path of her former combatants. "You pay someone to do a job, they better show up."
"You do a lot of jobs in dark alleys?" -- not that Faith could judge her for it.
The woman laughs. "Only the dirty ones," she replies, surreptitiously tucking the stun gun into her back pocket. Apparently she's decided that Faith represents no threat, which is… something. "Why? Are you looking for work?"
"Not really," Faith admits. "Your job raised some flags. I just came into town to suss things out. Looks like a case of mistaken identity."
"Oh, I'm not the one you've been looking for?" the woman says, making a show of excessive flirtiness.
"Didn't say that," Faith replies, rolling with it. What the hell? "I'm Faith."
"Kate," the woman replies. "And, no, I don't actually enjoy skulking around dark alleys. Wanna get out of here?"
"Dunno. I'm pretty comfy here with you, your weapon, and the unconscious guy," Faith snarks. "You got a better place?
"Yeah," Kate says, "I know a place."