December 12th, 2006
|fikgirl||11:18 pm - Back in the City of Angels|
Where: Angel Investigations/Wolfram & Hart Bldg, LA
Invited:Anyone is welcome (but I think only George is around)
Angel exited the elevator of his private pent house apartment – located at the top of the restored and renovated Wolfram & Hart building – and strolled across the second floor foyer towards the conference room.
"Pig, 98 degrees with just a touch of cow for that added perk." Harmony intercepted him, pressing a mug of warm blood into his hand. "Just the way you like it, Boss."
With a sigh, Angel took the mug and sipped it, then continued on his way.
"Don't I even get a thank you?"
The look the souled vampire tossed back over his shoulder at the vampire receptionist sent her scurrying without another word. Every now and then Harmony needed a reminder that she was lucky to have a job after her betrayal. Fortunately, knowing for absolute certain that she couldn't be trusted made it a lot easier to work with her.
(There's also the added bonus of the three times and you're staked rule,) Angel mused.
He opened the doors to the staff room, looked up and his greeting died on his lips. The room was empty, save Spike who paged through a comic book called "9th Wonders" and dipped a donut into . . . a mug of blood. Considering that Angel didn't consider Spike to be high on the scale of "anybody" – no one really knew what he did around the place, and he only drew a paycheck to keep him safely out of Angel's hair – he considered the room empty.
Turning on his heel, he marched up Harmony's desk. "Harmony, isn't it Thursday?"
"And it's, eleven o' clock?"
"And didn't I specifically call a staff meeting every Thursday at eleven o' clock in the morning?"
Angel stared at Harmony. The annoying blonde vampire stared back.
He sighed heavily. "So, *where* is my staff?"
"Oh, well, there's no meeting this Thursday. You cancelled it."
"I did?" Angel frowned at her. "Why?"
"Because Gunn had to be in court today, Wesley didn't know if he would be back from procuring that rune-stone-statue thing-a-ma-jig and Faith called to say she was like way out of touch and probably wouldn't be back for a while." Harmony rattled off the list of reasons. "And because I knew that you wouldn't remember, I put it in your calendar."
Angel set the mug of blood on the counter to avoid shattering it in his hand. He counted slowly to ten and soothed himself with images of Harmony exploding into dust all around him. When he could speak again, Angel said very clearly, "Harmony. There is nothing in my calendar. It sits on my desk, empty. I don't even know why I have –"
"Not *that* calendar. Geez, Angel." Harmony pointed her pen – with a large, glittery unicorn on the end of it – at the oversized cellular telephone on his belt clip. "On the one on your TREO."
Angel pulled the telephone off and shook at it at her. "Harmony, this is a cell phone!"
"It's a PDA cell phone. We went over this when I ordered one for everyone on staff. You approved the order. But it was Cordelia's idea, but anyway, we had special training. It's a complete desktop right at your fingertips."
Frowning thoughtfully at the phone, Angel tapped it. "This thing?"
"You know, you really need to move into the twenty-first century, Angel. You're like the poster child for anachronism."
"Do you even know what that word means?"
|Date:||December 13th, 2006 09:23 am (UTC)|| |
When the elevator doors opened George walked through the foyer. Angel and Harmony were sniping at one another over Harmony's desk. She ignored them. When she got to the door of the conference room George stopped, staring at the empty room.
Well, Spike was in there, but he didn't count. George spun on her heel to interrupt Angel and Harmony. "Hey! Where the hell is everybody?" She made a show of looking at her wristwatch. "It's Thursday, right?"
"See?" Angel said, waving a hand toward George.
"Yes," Harmony said, rolling her eyes. "It's Thursday."
"And it's eleven o'clock?" George said.
"Yes, Georgia," Harmony said, drawing out George's name. "It's eleven o'clock."
"So why is the conference room chock full of nothing?"
"Oi!" Spike said, from the doorway. "What am I? Invisible? Again?"
"I wish," George muttered. Getting a whiff of the contents of his mug, she wrinkled her nose. "Gah! Fucking vampires. Why can't you drink coffee like normal people."
"That's a laugh," Spike said. "Look who's talking! Everybody who's undead in this room, raise your hand," he said, doing just that.
Angel and Harmony promptly raised their hands as well. The three of them all stared at George. She glared back at them for a moment, then blew her breath in annoyance. "Fine," she snapped and raised her hand as well.
George dropped her hand and scowled. "I hurried up here for this?" She brandished the leather bound notebook she carried. "I've got things to do, you know!"
She didn't miss Harmony's uneasy look. Or Angel's. For blood drinking creatures of the night, they were pretty wussy about her job.
Spike reached out to touch the notebook. "So who's on your list today, George?" He got his fingers on a loose page tucked into it. He gave it a tug. "Anybody I know? Any celebrities? Brad Pitt, maybe?"
George smacked his hand away. "None of your beeswax," she said. She glared at Angel. "Yours neither," she told him.
|Date:||December 18th, 2006 06:43 pm (UTC)|| |
[Cordelia] Making an Entrance
"As long as nothing on your list is going to give us, Mr.I'm so evil -I-killed-my-parents-and screwed Darla," Cordelia breezed into the room, paused and smirked at Angel, "Oh wait, that wasn't when you were evil --"
"Cordelia," Angel warned.
She accepted the warning with grace. She'd (mostly) forgiven him for his vampire-depression (All right, his more than usual vampire depression) induced screwing of Darla-The-Skank. He had managed to save her a few times since then, and challenging The Senior partners wasn't that shabby. However, Angel still needed someone to remind him of his roots.
"Anyway," Cordelia continued. "No visions to report, no portents of the world about to be destroyed, and . . ." She stopped in the doorway to the conference room, "Where the hell are Gunn and Wesley and Miss Bipolar?"
"Gunn is in court, Wesley is in the archives and," Harmony lowered her voice to a low whisper, "Illyria is on the roof."
Cordelia lowered her voice, "And why are we whispering?"
"She's in a bad mood."
"And how exactly do you tell?" She dismissed Harmony the moment she asked the question. She faced Angel again. "Don't we have a meeting?"
|Date:||December 19th, 2006 09:36 pm (UTC)|| |
"Apparently not," Angel said, shooting a glance at Harmony. "I'm told I canceled it."
Harmony looked offended. "You did! You told me! 'Harmony,' you said, 'cancel the meeting.' And I said, 'which meeting?' and you said--"
"Alright, fine," Angel said, waving her to silence. "I'll take your word for it." He turned to Cordelia. "Apparently not."
Cordelia frowned, then looked at George. "So what are you doing here?"
George glared back at her. "I thought we had a meeting too." Cordelia sighed and looked a little less put out. "But since we don't," George continued, "I have things to do."
"Anybody we know?" Cordelia asked.
"I already asked," Spike said, making a show of dunking a chunk of donut in his mug of blood. "She won't say." He popped the dripping pastry in his mouth. "Yum."
"Eeewwww!" George and Cordelia said in unison.
|Date:||January 24th, 2007 11:12 pm (UTC)|| |
"That has to be the most disgusting thing ever," Cordelia said with a frown as she glared at Spike. "And so is dunking your donuts."
She turned smoothly to Angel, Spike already forgotten. "Seeing how we don't have a meeting, I am long over due for a proper wash, cut, style and manicure. We have all the amenities and today I intend –"
The room darkened and blurred.
" – to take full – "
Objects bled into one another and coalesced into different forms.
" – vision!"
Blink, shift and the whole world changed.
Cordelia stood on a city street watching as the creatures strode forward and grabbed this person and that person. The crowd foolishly laughed and cheered while a victim was drained to a pure, dry husk of nothing but bone and wisps of hair.
One after another, again and again until the crowd began to wise up and move. Screaming and yelling, they dispersed, running down the streets.
Vision Cordelia turned and looked up at the street sign.
(Mercer and Blakely.)
The light changed to red. The sounds of squealing brakes and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air right before the sounds of crunching metal.
(We're too late,) Cordelia realized. (This already happened.)
(So what's the point?)
One of the blue skinned, white haired, bad dental hygiene and bad wardrobe vampires – because they had to be vampires, right? – walked past her. The rest followed.
Blink, shift and the main lobby of the building formerly belonging to Wolfram and Hart reformed and appeared. She yelped, backing away from the sudden closeness of her friends – and acquaintances – peering curiously at her. "Geesh! Give me some air already!"
"C'mon on, out with it, cheerleader," Spike said, "Whatd'ya see?"
"Vampires," Cordelia supplied without missing another beat. She turned to Angel. "Vampire attack at the corner of Mercer and Blakely. But we're too late, it already happened. We need to stop it from happening again."
|Date:||January 25th, 2007 05:11 am (UTC)|| |
"Mercer and Blakely?" George said. She flipped open the leather notebook and turned to the last page on which anything had been written. Yep. Nine names, all at the corner of Mercer and Blakely.
"Yep," she said, closing the notebook as Spike sidled closer. "They're dead. I sent Kate and Larry down there to take care of them...what?"
Angel and Harmony were staring at her with that uneasy look on their faces again. Cordelia was frowning in annoyance. "You knew?" Cordelia demanded.
"Yeah," George said. "What about it?"
"And you didn't say anything?"
"Hello," George said, waving the notebook at her. "Grim Reaper. That's what I do!" Angel and Harmony shared a look. Spike just laughed.
"Jeez!" George continued. "This can't be news to you. How long have I been here?"
"Angel Investigations!" Cordelia countered. "We're supposed to help the helpless! Defend the defenseless!"
"Defeat the defeatless!" Harmony chimed in, then subsided when everyone glared at her.
"Or at least we _try_ to," Cordelia said. She sighed. "It's just--hard to get used to. Knowing that--you know--people are gonna die, and not doing anything about it...."
George shrugged. "You can't. You can't save any of them. Took me a long while to learn that lesson, but I did."
Mentally hugs Spike. I volunteer to pay attention to him. Very in depth attention. ::drools:: You can have Angel... give me some Spike...
|Date:||December 15th, 2006 06:49 am (UTC)|| |
But...I don't want Angel. I want Cordelia. And Harmony. And Lilah, and Kate, and...
|Date:||January 24th, 2007 03:26 pm (UTC)|| |
City of Angels and Deamons
The little green thing had come to them four days ago, promising them a rich feeding ground, a large herd to cull. It was of no species they had seen before. But it had smelled… of cordite and sulfur.
The queen had found its arrogance annoying, but its words held promise. Earth, it had said. Not accessible by ship, but through a kind of personal wormhole. This was inconvenient, as it prevented navigation so the others could be called. It also made them dependant on the little creature.
So she had sent these six. Dependable scouts all, with what was needed to build a homing beacon if they could find a power source and amplifier.
This world was rich with food. When they had stepped from the little wormhole the stench of overpopulation hit them. One skinny human male had looked at them and laughed.
“Great costumes man. Convention is ten blocks east, isn’t it? Of course, this is LA, no one will much notice if you go wandering away all done up.”
He had tasted wonderful. Some people screamed and ran as he was drained to a husk, others stood and applauded. Until the other scouts grabbed them and took their fill.
Yes, Earth was rich for culling. And the little creature had said that the unpalatable ones, like himself, wanted the planet free and clear, with only a few herds of the human populace for food and entertainment of their own. If it amused the queen to allow this, so be it. Such things were not for the scout to contemplate. No. He needed to lead his team to a power source and a amplifier.
(Welcome the Wraith to LA.)
|Date:||January 24th, 2007 03:36 pm (UTC)|| |
Re: City of Angels and Deamons
Too fun! While SG-1 is over in Atlantis, this happens.
I think that Cordelia is in need of a vision. I'll try to write it up later today seeing how I'm back on my game now :)