[The recording snaps on with a clatter and at first the scene is hard to make out. An early rising sun and perhaps the rain-dampened rail of one of Luceti's bridges. The journal is clearly on the ground, staring up and catching just a fraction of Buffy's upper body and face as she speaks to someone or something out of sight.]

[The young woman's voice can be heard:]--that's it, is it? Ignore a girl, take all her friends, but suddenly she butchers the leader of an invading force and she's Miss Popularity, again. Should've known you'd come, all interested and what-not. [There's a thud, a slosh of rain-water. Everything plays out in counterpoint to the low and constant rumbling of thunder in the distance.]

Make sure someone puts down in one of your no-doubt freaky little lab reports that I fought back. And that I kicked some major droid ass befo--[More crashes and a hard groan of pain as Buffy is taken down. Almost as quickly as it had started, the Slayer is gone. Her journal remains open on the bridge closest to house forty-seven, the pages soaking up the rain.]