A change in plan

"Wait!" someone cried. "Don't kill her!"

Don't kill her?, thought Faith-in-Joyce. Is "her" referring to me? In that case, I'd better get out of here.

But before she could leave, a blonde-haired man in a white lab coat ran up to the trio in front of her and said once more, "Don't kill her!"

"Topher," said the brown-haired girl in the lab coat. "I thought I told you to wait in the van. And could you call any more attention to us than you're already doing?"

"I'm sorry," said Topher. "I'm not used to taking orders from a dol -- er -- doc. Anyway, I saw something on Echo's spycam that you guys need to know about. The woman you saw over there -- well, she looked like an old lady -- " old lady?! thought Faith-in-Joyce "-- but she moves like a young chick. Almost as if there's a mismatch between her physical age and her actual age. I've seen it before in reverse -- when older women have been imprinted on -- you know -- younger women. But I'd never thought I'd see anything like it out here."

"But there are supposed to be no other dolls in this area except Echo," said the black man. "That means she's --"

"COMPETITION," the black man, the doctor, and the blonde-haired man said in unison.

Faith-in-Joyce had no idea what they were talking about but the look on their faces was a sign that she would definitely be better off getting away from them as fast as possible.

So she turned to run. Not that she wanted to run. Normally she preferred to fight. But she was no longer in a body with Slayer strength and starting a fight with those three would only attract the attention of the cops. And with the equipment she had in Joyce's car, she really did not need to be dealing with the cops right now.

So Faith-in-Joyce started to run.

"Hey, wait!" cried the black man. "You need to come with us."

Fat chance, buddy, thought Faith-in-Joyce. I can read body language too -- and something in yours tells me I'm better off putting as much distance between you and me as possible.

Then she felt a sharp stinging sensation on her left arm. And saw that someone had hit her with a tranquilizer dart.

Really? she thought.

If she was in her old body, she might have had a chance to outrun it anyway. But no, either Joyce's body was more susceptible to it than her own would be or else the **** in the dart was stronger than usual. Almost as if it was originally meant for someone stronger and more ruthless than a woman Joyce's age.

Then Faith-in-Joyce found herself starting to black out. And found herself hoping like hell that the unholy trio would give her a chance to wake up again.