The woman was 82 years old.
She had lived much longer than she was supposed to, much longer than anyone in her lineage had lived before. She had more stamina than some people in their forties, and was certainly stronger than some.
Her dedication to duty had not faltered either, but to those who did not know who she was, she seemed... the polite term was "eccentric", the most used was "nuts". And of course, considering that the last of her foes had disappeared during the last World War, apparently swallowed by the Atomic Horror, and that all seemed to have forgotten their very existence, she might have been playing with a less than full deck.
Only she was not. She was simply dedicated to her mission.
She was in Portland, Oregon, when she heard about it. She immediately took her car, an old clunker she had purchased 10 days before the war started and had used maybe 10 times since, and headed for East. She drove all night and arrived in the morning of the day after.
"Where are they? Where are they?"
To all present, she only looked like an old, excited but harmless, little grandma with some blondish locks in her grey hair. So, out of deference for her age, they helped her to the visitors.
Solkar stood up when he saw her and extended his hand, as he had learned to do from Zefram Cochrane two days earlier. But the woman took a wooden stake out of her bag and jumped, with an unexpected vigour, and struck the visitor in the heart. Or at least that's what she believed, but Solkar had his heart where the liver is in a human, as all Vulcans do.
The woman looked at her victim. "Why don't you...?"
Solkar of course was promptly healed by his ship's doctor.
"Tell me please", he asked the human police officer, "who was that woman?"
"Apparently she is the last member of some kind of cult hunting malevolent supernatural creatures which, according to legends, roamed the Earth not long ago, before the war. Her name is Buffy Anne Summers..."