Tales of the Potentials: Erika Hamilton

Once a foreign exchange student from London, she moved to Connecticut to finish her High School Senior year. She was studying Indie Film making until her career path took her on a more dangerous road. All she had as weapons were a Police Baton, a .44 Magnum, her camcorder, and some stale Juicy Fruit to keep her mind right. Her prayers on finding a place to rest were finally answered when she traveled up to Vancouver, leaving more than two dozen vampires and a Hammelcrod Demon dead in their tracks. She found an abandoned bank with thick walls and a not-so-state-of-the-art security system. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know whatever caused them to leave in the first place might still be out there. Erika only heard the voice in her head three times before it left her to fend for herself. It took her five weeks to learn how to use a sharpened stake. Apart from what she had at her disposal, she knew no one friendly was going to come for her; not the military, not her arrogant brother Neal, and not even the "great" Buffy Summers herself. The inside of the bank had a ghost town feel to it. Some areas were too dark to see while the rest were barricaded with Teller desks and thick bags of gold coins. She made her way to the Manager's office one floor above the lobby and settled herself in. She set her backpack down with a few supplies put to the side of the desk and set up her camcorder to record a message. "How long's it been; twelve, thirteen months since the Apocalypse broke out in Los Angeles? I can't tell you the things I had to record, the monsters I had to... sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My uh, good lord... you shoulda kept the sun on your left shoulder. My name is Erika Hamilton, and I'm a "Potential"; not that it means much. From what I understood over the course of a year, Potential Slayers live like pariahs. Some didn't even want this responsibility and opted out. Anyone who got lucky got scooped up by that Sunnydale Slayer. I lost the voice, the same one that says you have the means to end this atrocity. How does an army of untrained warriors tool up against scaly freaks and the like? Last demon I fought almost tore out me lungs. Today is August 7, 'round 4 in the morning. I don't know where I'm going, or if I even get up off this chair and move on. Before I cut this video short, I want to say a few words to my family. Mum, dad, if we're bein' honest... I'm not sorry about what happened to me, but I am sorry you felt the need to disown me after the fact. Guess that sting pushed me to live in this "new" world. In either case, I hope you two are surviving out there. Neal, you were always a pain in my ass. We rarely saw eye to eye, always found ways to mess up my filming... I miss you, bro. If you were here with me, I'd think you would understand what I'm going through. Whatever happens to me in the next few days, I only had the three of you in my heart. Goodbye..."