Submitted for Feedback -- "Vigor"
“Well, look … the roaches have all gathered.”

The smile on Jill’s face as she waltzed into the conference room bordered on psychotic, her folders flopping onto the desk as she surveyed the eight bodies sitting on either side of her. Colleagues, but people Jill hardly knew – and sure as hell didn’t care to.

There was Mr. Parsons, an attorney who specialized in corporate accounting – guy had the IRS in his back pocket, but his eternal fixation with little Thai boys was a tad disturbing. And who could forget Angela Travis, a fat waste of skin with nails that would put most vampire fangs to shame?

But Jill’s smile faded when she laid eyes on the man sitting at the opposite side of the conference table … goddamn Roger McDonnell. The smooth-talking, too-much-hair-gel-using Oklahoma boy who for some reason thought he had a shot at getting under Jill’s skirt.

Never mind the fact that, up until a couple weeks ago, Jill had a boyfriend. And ignore Roger’s sleazy attitude and the fact that he once contracted chlamydia from a For’sak demon. His smile, his oh-so-clever attempt to be flirtatious, just made the young lawyer chuckle to herself.

“Listen up, you worthless fuckers,” she continued, pacing around the table intently. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about me the past several months, nor do I really care. Jillian Andersen is back, and she’s here to stay.

“You all know what happened to my secretary. Bitch had it coming … anyone know why?”

Jill’s hand slapped against the back of Roger’s head as she asked, and her face scrunched in disgust when she felt residue from his hair product in her palm. Wiping her hand on Parson’s shoulder, Jill continued.

“Anyone?”

Swallowing hard, Travis raised a finger. “Because,” her voice postured hesitantly, “she was worthless. A liability.”

Jill’s sadistic grin returned. “Exactly. And why was she a liability?”

The eight seated bodies exchanged nervous, uncertain glances, shrugging shoulders and murmuring under their breath. Jill’s smile widened; they were afraid of her. For the first time since before she’d met Oliver, her colleagues at Wolfram & Hart shook at the sight of her.

Her pep talk with Victoria had been just what the doctor ordered. The attorney was annoyed they didn’t consummate anything – Victoria having someone, that dopey redhead, no doubt – but at the end of the day, the vampiress put Jill back on her path. The lawyer was starting to realize again just who she was.

And just how much fun that was.

“She wasn’t down with the mission,” Jill answered with a hint of annoyance in her voice. “She was one of those pointless peons who walk through our doors every day thinking Wolfram & Hart is just a law firm. That all we do is serve clients, keep them out of jail and all that bullshit.

“I’ve heard some of the normals talk … they think working here is the epitome of the law profession. Some douchebag in Human Resources yesterday said that working at Wolfram & Hart was like a sportscaster working at ESPN – the very top of the game.

“See, that’s the problem with this place … the Senior Partners aren’t seeing the big picture. They hire these people to keep public perception, to make people think we’re nice and normal while we plan the Apocalypse.”

Parsons drew Jill’s angry glare as he raised his hand. Clearing his throat, he suggested, “Miss Andersen … while we appreciate your renewed vigor and desire to see the firm’s endgame met, it’s not that simple.”

The woman growled, driving Parsons face-first into the table. Busting his nose and drawing blood, Jill threw the old man to the floor, brushing black hair out of her face. “Of course it is,” she bit back, standing over Parsons. “I know what’s going on … the Senior Partners are scared. They got socked in the face a few years back with the L.A. debacle, and now they’re afraid to walk in case they step in a steaming pile of dog shit.

“Well, I’m sorry, but that is not what I came to Wolfram & Hart for. And I am going to do everything I can to see to it that things change around here.”

Parsons coughed blood onto the fine carpet, looking up at Jill. “So,” he mused, “you’re not trying to find a way out of your contract, then?”

Again, Jill growled, grabbing Parsons by his collar and forcing him to his feet, getting in his face. “Where did you hear that?!” she bellowed, spitting in the old man’s face. Her free hand balled into a fist before driving into his large gut, causing his eyes to bulge and a sharp breath to escape from his lips.

Parsons fell to the floor again as Jill stared at the other seven staring at her. She saw fear in Travis’ eyes, but everyone else looked on with no emotion; they knew what was going on, they knew what it all meant.

And they understood.

Drawing a pistol from her blood-red business jacket, Jill cocked it and pointed it at Parsons’ head. “Doesn’t matter,” she said, waving her free hand dismissively. “Whoever told you was wrong.”

Jill pulled the trigger. Parsons never screamed, his blood exploding onto the carpet and Jill’s suit.

Pocketing the gun, Jill regarded the others again, a darkness in her eyes none of them had ever seen before. She cleared her throat, kicking the body beneath her with her heels. “I am not going anywhere,” she stated with authority. “In fact … I think it’s time I got a promotion.

“Go straight to the Partners, get it myself. Special Projects, people. We’re getting this shit started, with or without you losers. You got that?”

Travis and five of the others nodded in silence before closing their briefcases, rising from their chairs and leaving in a hurry. Travis tripped over Parsons’ body as she left, struggling to get back up because of her size. Jill saw this and chuckled, shaking her head as she drew a knife from the nearby wall and stuck in the back of Travis’ neck, undoubtedly hitting either her brain or her spine.

Either way, her final resting place was right where she wanted to be anyway: on top of Parsons.

Jill sighed when applause came from behind, and she whirled around to see McDonnell standing before her. He had that smug grin of his, a grin that said, “I think I’m hotter than I really am!” Jill cleaned the blade before setting it back on the wall and folding her arms across her chest.

“Yes, Roger?” she sighed in annoyance.

“That was …” McDonnell began, waving his arms, “brilliant, Jill. It’s so nice to have the old you back. What say we celebrate over a drink and, ya know …”

Jill placed a finger on McDonnell’s lips to shut him up, leaning in close. Her lips inches from his, Jill giggled and shook her head. “Haven’t you heard, Rog? I don’t like the pole anymore. So if you’re looking to have a shot with me …” Jill reached between McDonnell’s legs, grabbing, squeezing and twisting violently. “… you might wanna get rid of this.”

McDonnell squealed loud enough to echo through the ninth floor of Wolfram & Hart’s Las Vegas offices, Jill’s satisfied grin radiating as she left the conference room and dialed a number on her cell phone.

“Yeah, Andersen,” she spoke into the phone. “I need to schedule a meeting tomorrow morning.

“Yes … the Conduit and I need to have a talk.”