Terror Aboard the Persephone! Part 2.
Jun. 12th, 2009 05:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
girlpirehere's the second part! posting a little early because i'm about to fall asleep and didn't wanna forget. this part is still mostly set-up for the upcoming plottiness, just getting all the characters where i need them. it's like stringing up christmas lights before you plug them in so they can twinkle. :D
Title: Terror Aboard the Persephone! (Part Two)
Author: girlpire
Rating: PG-13 (or FRT)
Warnings: None in this part. Later, there's nudity with the intention of [het] sex, although it doesn't get graphic. (It's probably not much worse than you'd see on the show, but there's the matter of Spike's bum and a couple of uses of the eff word.)
Characters: Angel, Spike, Gunn, Connor, Wesley, Xander, Riley, and Kate, plus more OC's than you will probably be comfortable with.
Disclaimer: This story is based on the "Angel" series, with which I am not affiliated in any way. Joss Whedon is my master, etc.
Distribution: Please do not archive this story anywhere.
Summary: A series of highly improbable coincidences aboard a cruise ship makes stopping this particular apocalypse a bit more complicated than usual for the fang gang.
Author's Notes: This story takes place at some ambiguous point during season five of AtS. Spike is solid, Connor doesn't know who Angel is, and Xander is both-eyed and didn't participate in the BtVS comics. The entire fic spans the course of about five hours.
[Part 1]
***
Terror Aboard the Persephone!
Part Two
***
"No, I really am 21," said Connor, trying his best to look about two years older. This was a bad idea. He'd known it was a bad idea; he'd even said it was a bad idea. And yet, here he was trying to board the ship, fake ID and all, just waiting to be rejected because of his age again.
"Uh-huh," said the security guard, squinting at the plastic card. "When's your birthday, Mr. Uh..."
"Maguerity," Connor helped. "Lobo Maguerity. It's March 3rd."
The guard raised an eyebrow at him.
"Oh, you mean the year," said Connor. "That makes sense, that you would want to know that. Because you want to make sure I'm 21. I am 21, by the way. So, um, I was born in... 83? Right, 1983. That's when I was born, which makes me... 21."
The guard looked skeptical.
"No, really," said Connor. "I wouldn't lie about this."
The guard squinted at the fake ID again. "Your name is Lobo?" he asked.
Connor shrugged. "Sure," he said. "I mean, why not?" He smiled, attempting to look very honest.
The guard had just opened his mouth to say something else - probably to tell Connor to take a hike - when someone very rudely shoved past Connor on the boarding ramp and actually knocked him into the guard. "Hey, watch it!" Connor called after him, but the man didn't even turn around, already stalking onto the boat with his long leather coat swishing behind him.
"What a jerk," Connor muttered to the security guard, but the guard was already shoving the ID back into his hands.
"Go on," said the guard brusquely. He waved Connor up the ramp before signaling to another guard to go after the blond guy in the coat.
Never one to look a gift distraction in the mouth, Connor grinned at the guard and hurried onto the boat with the other loading passengers. He could still see the guy who bumped into him, now arguing with the other security guard. He wondered briefly if the guy looked at his hair in the mirror every morning and thought to himself that it actually looked good that color. Oh well, to each his own and all that. At least the coat was cool.
***
"Course I have identification," Spike said to the security wanker who'd followed him. "M'not saying I have no identification. Did I say I had no sodding identification? Did I?" Balls. He knew he'd forgotten something.
"Sir, I need to see--"
"Course I didn't say that. What I said, if you'll remember, is that I don't exactly feel like showing it to you at this particular point in our relationship, because... because frankly, I don't trust you." He poked the security wanker in the chest. "Who the hell are you, anyway? What makes you think you can ask for my bloody identification? I have rights, you know, same as everybody else. You're not asking them for their sodding identification and boarding passes, are you?" He gestured toward the other passengers boarding the ship.
"Sir, they already showed us their--"
"I mean, what kind of country is this, anyway? Innocent people trying to take an innocent little boat ride and throw money at you in the process, and you bombard them with questions and -- and this is still the home of the free, innit? I'm still a bloody U.S. citizen, aren't I?"
"Well, sir, you don't really sound like--"
"Oh, and now you're questioning my nationality, are you? That's it, I'm suing. Consider yourself sued, mate."
The security guard looked completely bewildered. "I'm not questioning your--"
"I'm calling my lawyer right now. Right now!"
"Sir, I just need to see your boarding pass and ID -- that's all! Either show them to me, or I'll have to ask you to leave."
"Didn't I just say I don't trust you?"
The guard glared at Spike. "Alright," he said. "Fine. You'll have to come with me." He took Spike by the elbow and turned to leave, but Spike snatched his arm back with an affronted expression.
"Touch me again," he threatened, "and we'll see who's going where."
The guard rolled his eyes and reached for Spike a second time, but before his fingers connected with the sleeve of Spike's coat, he was falling through the air, arms flailing. He landed with a splash beside Persephone where she sat silently in the Pacific, and when he resurfaced a moment later, he was sputtering curses.
"Tosser," Spike muttered. Without checking to see who'd witnessed him throwing the guard overboard, he turned and made for the lower deck, shouldering roughly past a small group of passengers wearing white hats and smelling, oddly enough, like lemons.
He didn't notice the behatted passengers' interested stares as they watched him stalk away.
***
Riley stood at his table and scanned the passengers wandering into the game room. These demon guys were apparently supposed to look human aside from the blue streaks in their hair and a set of abnormally sharp teeth. After a few moments of inconspicuously examining everyone’s hair, the closest Riley came to finding vicious blue-haired freaks was a couple of old ladies sitting at the next table, smiling and... checking him out? Okay, that was just creepy.
His duffle full of weapons was resting on the floor at his feet, tucked underneath the table where no one could see it. He gave the old ladies a friendly smile and then glanced at his watch. It was about five ‘til seven, which gave him a little while before the auction would start. The Hermaion was going to be the last item auctioned, so the plan was to scout for demons, and if he saw any, then he’d wait until the entertainment began about halfway through the auction, then sneak into the ballroom and take the necklace while they were bringing out the final items to be sold. Then he was to evade security until the boat returned to port at about midnight.
If anything went wrong, he was to secure the Hermaion and abandon ship.
He sighed. The boat hadn’t even moved yet. People were milling around, some sitting at tables, already playing practice rounds. The actual gambling wouldn’t start until they reached international waters, but some of the dealers were showing first-timers how to play the games. Riley had opened a deck of cards and was beginning to shuffle them when a pretty blonde woman holding a drink came and sat at his table.
“Is this five card stud?” she asked.
“It sure is,” he said. “Do you know how to play?”
“Little bit. I’m better at Go Fish.”
He smiled at her. “This table has a $3 bring-in. Would you like to play a practice round?”
“Alright. But I have to warn you, I’m pretty terrible at this.”
“That’s okay. I’m not actually that great at it either.” He dealt them each a card face down and a card face up to start. “My name’s Steve, by the way,” he said.
She took a sip of her drink and smiled at him. “Kate.”
***
Gunn stood in the safe room with the auction items, making sure for the fifth time that the Hermaion was still there. “I thought you said this boat had excellent security,” he muttered aloud.
“It does. Top of the line,” said Wesley’s voice in his ear. “None better.”
“Well, they just told me we had a guard thrown overboard. That don’t sound excellent to me, Wes.”
“Overboard?” repeated Wesley. He sounded startled. “Into the ocean?”
“That’s what overboard means, last time I checked.”
“Of course,” said Wesley. “Is he alright?”
“According to my sources? He was mad.”
“Oh. Well, that’s understandable. I suppose whoever threw him was cordially escorted from the ship?”
“Nope,” said Gunn. “Your other excellent security guards didn’t even see it happen. And get this – the dude hit his head in the water, and now he doesn’t remember what the guy who threw him looked like either.”
“He hit something in the ocean?” asked Wesley. “What was it?”
“Hell if I know. Something hard.” Everything in the safe room appeared to be safe, and Gunn breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed to finish his conversation before going back into the showroom. “Come to think of it,” said Gunn, “all the security guards I’ve seen so far have been kinda stupid-looking. Where are the excellent ones you’ve been talking about?”
Wesley paused. "I actually meant to discuss this with you earlier," he began.
Gunn rolled his eyes. "Way to sound ominous there, Wes."
"But," Wesley continued, "I knew you would object to their use, and I wanted to make sure you were on board before I--"
"Wait a second," Gunn interrupted. "Tell me you're not about to tell me what I think you're about to tell me."
"Well that rather depends on what you think I'm about to--"
"You did not send those bots on this cruise," Gunn hissed emphatically. "You did not."
"Now, I know that given your... particular history with them," Wes went on, "you don't find them to be very... reliable, but I can assure you that this time--"
"Those freaking robots are insane, Wesley! They are insane! Tell me you didn't put them on this boat."
"Charles, listen to me. We've been working on them in the lab for quite a while since the last... unfortunate incident, and--"
"I still have scars from that shit, man! I'm talking about big-time emotional scars here."
"They've been completely reprogrammed!" protested Wesley. "There's absolutely no reason to believe anything of that nature should go wrong this time. They were field tested recently with very positive results. Just trust me on this one."
"Uh-huh. Trust the guy who's selling a necklace that unleashes Hell on earth."
Wesley ignored the comment. "Their human-like emotions have been removed, Gunn. They have no feelings and no free will. They're simply soldiers. You give a command, they obey, and that's that. There's no need for you to worry about the same thing that happened last time."
Gunn was scowling. "The first one that hits on me is getting a fist to the teeth, no lie. I will kick his mechanical ass so hard his mechanical grandma will feel it. Understand?"
"Of course."
"Just so we're clear."
"Perfectly," said Wesley. "Now, the bots are programmed to take orders directly from you. They should be in a storage closet just off of the showroom, so activate as many as you need. They already know to be on the lookout for humanoid demons with blue-streaked hair and a lemon scent."
"They know how to smell?"
Wesley's voice in his ear sounded proud. "I told you we've been working on them." Suddenly, he sounded a little apprehensive. "There's just one small flaw that we've--"
"No," said Gunn. "I'm not hearing this shit. I will punch it in the face."
"It's nothing like that," Wesley hurried. "It's just that, during the massive reprogramming, a tiny error was made, and we haven't had time to correct it yet. It has to do with their sound sensitivity. Specifically, loud noises tend to incapacitate them."
"Incapacitate how? They shut down?"
"Yes, exactly. Their systems are overloaded and they simply go offline. It resembles fainting."
"Great," said Gunn. "Fainting bots. I'm supposed to keep a bunch of demons from opening the gates of Hell, and you give me fainting bots."
"They're excellent fighters, Charles. And they don't faint easily. The chances of encountering a loud enough noise to incapacitate them on board the Persephone are very slim. I don't anticipate any complications."
"Same way you didn't anticipate a pretty necklace ushering in an apocalypse?"
Wesley sighed. "You're not by chance planning to let this go at some point, are you Gunn?"
"Not likely. Listen, I better get into the showroom and start schmoozing the clients. We're still trying to make money off of them, right?"
"Of course. Proceeds from the auction to be used in the ongoing fight against evil."
"Alright, cool. I'll buzz you if all Hell breaks loose." Gunn switched off his wire, which made a tiny beeping sound in his ear, and checked one last time to make sure the auction items were safe. They were. Then he straightened his tuxedo coat, glanced at his reflection in one of the glass cases, and headed back into the ballroom. The Persephone was due to leave port any second now.
***
Xander stepped into the crowded ballroom and tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible for someone who appeared to have been given a paint swirlie. Miraculously, very little of the paint had gotten on his clothes, but about half of his face was a bright cobalt, and so were his hands from trying to wipe it off. He smiled in what he hoped was a friendly manner at an old woman in a sparkly dress, who was staring at him. This was definitely shaping up to be one of those days.
He'd sent the rest of the crew home already, except for Juan, who was waiting for him since they'd ridden out to the port together. Xander was looking forward to leaving as well - he couldn't wait to get home and shower - but he had to let someone know about the glitch in the sound system before he left. He'd been told that the man he needed to talk to would be in here with the rest of the rich, tuxedoed people, although he had no idea which one of the tuxedoes had the man in it. He'd have to ask someone.
Xander glanced around the room. Everyone was old. They all looked mean, too, and appeared to be glaring suspiciously at each other. Wait - did that guy have horns? Wonderful.
There was one guy who had just come into the room from the opposite side who looked pretty normal, though. Xander made a bee-line for the normal and tried to ignore all the stares the blue side of his face was getting. "Excuse me," he said. "I'm looking for a man named Charles Gunn. You haven't seen him around here, have you?"
The man looked at Xander interestedly. "I'm Charles Gunn," he said.
"Oh," said Xander, relieved. "Well, that was easier than I expected. My name's Alexander Harris - I'm heading up a crew doing some of Persephone's interior reconstruction?" He stuck out a hand to shake.
Charles Gunn nodded. "Good to meet you, Ale--" He had started to reach for Xander's hand but paused, looking down at it.
Xander also looked and, realizing it was blue, let his hand drop. "Oh, yeah, sorry, there was a little... incident. It's kinda been one of those days, you know?"
"Yeah," the man agreed, "I know what you mean."
"On the other hand, I've always wanted to be a smurf..."
The man gave him a friendly smile. "Well, you know what they say. It's never too late."
"Do they say that? I thought they just said, 'Gargamel!' and ran inside their mushroom houses."
Mr. Gunn chuckled. "So Alex, was there something you needed me for?" he asked. "I'm surprised you guys are still on board. We should be leaving any minute now." He glanced at his watch. "Actually, we should have left a couple of minutes ago."
Was it that late? Shit. He'd better hurry. "I sent my crew home already," Xander said, "but I wanted to let you know before I left that the intercom system isn't up and running yet. I can have a guy out to fix it on Monday, but you won't be able to use it tonight. I hope that isn't too much of a problem."
The man frowned. "Well, it's inconvenient, but I'm sure we'll manage. I appreciate you letting me know."
"No problem," said Xander. "But I should probably run now, or else I'll be swimming back home."
"Alright. Nice meeting you."
"You too." Xander turned away from the man and walked swiftly back the way he had come. He so didn't need to be stuck on this boat for the rest of the night covered in paint. The smell was starting to get him a little bit high. When he finally reached the stairs up to the top deck, though, he ran into Juan coming slowly down them. Juan shook his head mournfully.
"Tell me we haven't started moving," said Xander.
"We haven't started moving, boss," said Juan.
Xander ran up the rest of the stairs. They were moving, alright. The L.A. Harbor was right there, still very close, but Persephone was slowly and steadily inching away. The wind blew Xander's paint-stiffened hair around as he watched the port gradually receding from view. Juan walked up behind him.
"You lied to me," Xander said.
"It is not so bad, boss," replied Juan. "We should play cards. Maybe we will win money."
"My face is blue," sighed Xander. "It's pretty bad, Juan."
***
Continued [here].
***
Title: Terror Aboard the Persephone! (Part Two)
Author: girlpire
Rating: PG-13 (or FRT)
Warnings: None in this part. Later, there's nudity with the intention of [het] sex, although it doesn't get graphic. (It's probably not much worse than you'd see on the show, but there's the matter of Spike's bum and a couple of uses of the eff word.)
Characters: Angel, Spike, Gunn, Connor, Wesley, Xander, Riley, and Kate, plus more OC's than you will probably be comfortable with.
Disclaimer: This story is based on the "Angel" series, with which I am not affiliated in any way. Joss Whedon is my master, etc.
Distribution: Please do not archive this story anywhere.
Summary: A series of highly improbable coincidences aboard a cruise ship makes stopping this particular apocalypse a bit more complicated than usual for the fang gang.
Author's Notes: This story takes place at some ambiguous point during season five of AtS. Spike is solid, Connor doesn't know who Angel is, and Xander is both-eyed and didn't participate in the BtVS comics. The entire fic spans the course of about five hours.
[Part 1]
***
Terror Aboard the Persephone!
Part Two
***
"No, I really am 21," said Connor, trying his best to look about two years older. This was a bad idea. He'd known it was a bad idea; he'd even said it was a bad idea. And yet, here he was trying to board the ship, fake ID and all, just waiting to be rejected because of his age again.
"Uh-huh," said the security guard, squinting at the plastic card. "When's your birthday, Mr. Uh..."
"Maguerity," Connor helped. "Lobo Maguerity. It's March 3rd."
The guard raised an eyebrow at him.
"Oh, you mean the year," said Connor. "That makes sense, that you would want to know that. Because you want to make sure I'm 21. I am 21, by the way. So, um, I was born in... 83? Right, 1983. That's when I was born, which makes me... 21."
The guard looked skeptical.
"No, really," said Connor. "I wouldn't lie about this."
The guard squinted at the fake ID again. "Your name is Lobo?" he asked.
Connor shrugged. "Sure," he said. "I mean, why not?" He smiled, attempting to look very honest.
The guard had just opened his mouth to say something else - probably to tell Connor to take a hike - when someone very rudely shoved past Connor on the boarding ramp and actually knocked him into the guard. "Hey, watch it!" Connor called after him, but the man didn't even turn around, already stalking onto the boat with his long leather coat swishing behind him.
"What a jerk," Connor muttered to the security guard, but the guard was already shoving the ID back into his hands.
"Go on," said the guard brusquely. He waved Connor up the ramp before signaling to another guard to go after the blond guy in the coat.
Never one to look a gift distraction in the mouth, Connor grinned at the guard and hurried onto the boat with the other loading passengers. He could still see the guy who bumped into him, now arguing with the other security guard. He wondered briefly if the guy looked at his hair in the mirror every morning and thought to himself that it actually looked good that color. Oh well, to each his own and all that. At least the coat was cool.
***
"Course I have identification," Spike said to the security wanker who'd followed him. "M'not saying I have no identification. Did I say I had no sodding identification? Did I?" Balls. He knew he'd forgotten something.
"Sir, I need to see--"
"Course I didn't say that. What I said, if you'll remember, is that I don't exactly feel like showing it to you at this particular point in our relationship, because... because frankly, I don't trust you." He poked the security wanker in the chest. "Who the hell are you, anyway? What makes you think you can ask for my bloody identification? I have rights, you know, same as everybody else. You're not asking them for their sodding identification and boarding passes, are you?" He gestured toward the other passengers boarding the ship.
"Sir, they already showed us their--"
"I mean, what kind of country is this, anyway? Innocent people trying to take an innocent little boat ride and throw money at you in the process, and you bombard them with questions and -- and this is still the home of the free, innit? I'm still a bloody U.S. citizen, aren't I?"
"Well, sir, you don't really sound like--"
"Oh, and now you're questioning my nationality, are you? That's it, I'm suing. Consider yourself sued, mate."
The security guard looked completely bewildered. "I'm not questioning your--"
"I'm calling my lawyer right now. Right now!"
"Sir, I just need to see your boarding pass and ID -- that's all! Either show them to me, or I'll have to ask you to leave."
"Didn't I just say I don't trust you?"
The guard glared at Spike. "Alright," he said. "Fine. You'll have to come with me." He took Spike by the elbow and turned to leave, but Spike snatched his arm back with an affronted expression.
"Touch me again," he threatened, "and we'll see who's going where."
The guard rolled his eyes and reached for Spike a second time, but before his fingers connected with the sleeve of Spike's coat, he was falling through the air, arms flailing. He landed with a splash beside Persephone where she sat silently in the Pacific, and when he resurfaced a moment later, he was sputtering curses.
"Tosser," Spike muttered. Without checking to see who'd witnessed him throwing the guard overboard, he turned and made for the lower deck, shouldering roughly past a small group of passengers wearing white hats and smelling, oddly enough, like lemons.
He didn't notice the behatted passengers' interested stares as they watched him stalk away.
***
Riley stood at his table and scanned the passengers wandering into the game room. These demon guys were apparently supposed to look human aside from the blue streaks in their hair and a set of abnormally sharp teeth. After a few moments of inconspicuously examining everyone’s hair, the closest Riley came to finding vicious blue-haired freaks was a couple of old ladies sitting at the next table, smiling and... checking him out? Okay, that was just creepy.
His duffle full of weapons was resting on the floor at his feet, tucked underneath the table where no one could see it. He gave the old ladies a friendly smile and then glanced at his watch. It was about five ‘til seven, which gave him a little while before the auction would start. The Hermaion was going to be the last item auctioned, so the plan was to scout for demons, and if he saw any, then he’d wait until the entertainment began about halfway through the auction, then sneak into the ballroom and take the necklace while they were bringing out the final items to be sold. Then he was to evade security until the boat returned to port at about midnight.
If anything went wrong, he was to secure the Hermaion and abandon ship.
He sighed. The boat hadn’t even moved yet. People were milling around, some sitting at tables, already playing practice rounds. The actual gambling wouldn’t start until they reached international waters, but some of the dealers were showing first-timers how to play the games. Riley had opened a deck of cards and was beginning to shuffle them when a pretty blonde woman holding a drink came and sat at his table.
“Is this five card stud?” she asked.
“It sure is,” he said. “Do you know how to play?”
“Little bit. I’m better at Go Fish.”
He smiled at her. “This table has a $3 bring-in. Would you like to play a practice round?”
“Alright. But I have to warn you, I’m pretty terrible at this.”
“That’s okay. I’m not actually that great at it either.” He dealt them each a card face down and a card face up to start. “My name’s Steve, by the way,” he said.
She took a sip of her drink and smiled at him. “Kate.”
***
Gunn stood in the safe room with the auction items, making sure for the fifth time that the Hermaion was still there. “I thought you said this boat had excellent security,” he muttered aloud.
“It does. Top of the line,” said Wesley’s voice in his ear. “None better.”
“Well, they just told me we had a guard thrown overboard. That don’t sound excellent to me, Wes.”
“Overboard?” repeated Wesley. He sounded startled. “Into the ocean?”
“That’s what overboard means, last time I checked.”
“Of course,” said Wesley. “Is he alright?”
“According to my sources? He was mad.”
“Oh. Well, that’s understandable. I suppose whoever threw him was cordially escorted from the ship?”
“Nope,” said Gunn. “Your other excellent security guards didn’t even see it happen. And get this – the dude hit his head in the water, and now he doesn’t remember what the guy who threw him looked like either.”
“He hit something in the ocean?” asked Wesley. “What was it?”
“Hell if I know. Something hard.” Everything in the safe room appeared to be safe, and Gunn breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed to finish his conversation before going back into the showroom. “Come to think of it,” said Gunn, “all the security guards I’ve seen so far have been kinda stupid-looking. Where are the excellent ones you’ve been talking about?”
Wesley paused. "I actually meant to discuss this with you earlier," he began.
Gunn rolled his eyes. "Way to sound ominous there, Wes."
"But," Wesley continued, "I knew you would object to their use, and I wanted to make sure you were on board before I--"
"Wait a second," Gunn interrupted. "Tell me you're not about to tell me what I think you're about to tell me."
"Well that rather depends on what you think I'm about to--"
"You did not send those bots on this cruise," Gunn hissed emphatically. "You did not."
"Now, I know that given your... particular history with them," Wes went on, "you don't find them to be very... reliable, but I can assure you that this time--"
"Those freaking robots are insane, Wesley! They are insane! Tell me you didn't put them on this boat."
"Charles, listen to me. We've been working on them in the lab for quite a while since the last... unfortunate incident, and--"
"I still have scars from that shit, man! I'm talking about big-time emotional scars here."
"They've been completely reprogrammed!" protested Wesley. "There's absolutely no reason to believe anything of that nature should go wrong this time. They were field tested recently with very positive results. Just trust me on this one."
"Uh-huh. Trust the guy who's selling a necklace that unleashes Hell on earth."
Wesley ignored the comment. "Their human-like emotions have been removed, Gunn. They have no feelings and no free will. They're simply soldiers. You give a command, they obey, and that's that. There's no need for you to worry about the same thing that happened last time."
Gunn was scowling. "The first one that hits on me is getting a fist to the teeth, no lie. I will kick his mechanical ass so hard his mechanical grandma will feel it. Understand?"
"Of course."
"Just so we're clear."
"Perfectly," said Wesley. "Now, the bots are programmed to take orders directly from you. They should be in a storage closet just off of the showroom, so activate as many as you need. They already know to be on the lookout for humanoid demons with blue-streaked hair and a lemon scent."
"They know how to smell?"
Wesley's voice in his ear sounded proud. "I told you we've been working on them." Suddenly, he sounded a little apprehensive. "There's just one small flaw that we've--"
"No," said Gunn. "I'm not hearing this shit. I will punch it in the face."
"It's nothing like that," Wesley hurried. "It's just that, during the massive reprogramming, a tiny error was made, and we haven't had time to correct it yet. It has to do with their sound sensitivity. Specifically, loud noises tend to incapacitate them."
"Incapacitate how? They shut down?"
"Yes, exactly. Their systems are overloaded and they simply go offline. It resembles fainting."
"Great," said Gunn. "Fainting bots. I'm supposed to keep a bunch of demons from opening the gates of Hell, and you give me fainting bots."
"They're excellent fighters, Charles. And they don't faint easily. The chances of encountering a loud enough noise to incapacitate them on board the Persephone are very slim. I don't anticipate any complications."
"Same way you didn't anticipate a pretty necklace ushering in an apocalypse?"
Wesley sighed. "You're not by chance planning to let this go at some point, are you Gunn?"
"Not likely. Listen, I better get into the showroom and start schmoozing the clients. We're still trying to make money off of them, right?"
"Of course. Proceeds from the auction to be used in the ongoing fight against evil."
"Alright, cool. I'll buzz you if all Hell breaks loose." Gunn switched off his wire, which made a tiny beeping sound in his ear, and checked one last time to make sure the auction items were safe. They were. Then he straightened his tuxedo coat, glanced at his reflection in one of the glass cases, and headed back into the ballroom. The Persephone was due to leave port any second now.
***
Xander stepped into the crowded ballroom and tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible for someone who appeared to have been given a paint swirlie. Miraculously, very little of the paint had gotten on his clothes, but about half of his face was a bright cobalt, and so were his hands from trying to wipe it off. He smiled in what he hoped was a friendly manner at an old woman in a sparkly dress, who was staring at him. This was definitely shaping up to be one of those days.
He'd sent the rest of the crew home already, except for Juan, who was waiting for him since they'd ridden out to the port together. Xander was looking forward to leaving as well - he couldn't wait to get home and shower - but he had to let someone know about the glitch in the sound system before he left. He'd been told that the man he needed to talk to would be in here with the rest of the rich, tuxedoed people, although he had no idea which one of the tuxedoes had the man in it. He'd have to ask someone.
Xander glanced around the room. Everyone was old. They all looked mean, too, and appeared to be glaring suspiciously at each other. Wait - did that guy have horns? Wonderful.
There was one guy who had just come into the room from the opposite side who looked pretty normal, though. Xander made a bee-line for the normal and tried to ignore all the stares the blue side of his face was getting. "Excuse me," he said. "I'm looking for a man named Charles Gunn. You haven't seen him around here, have you?"
The man looked at Xander interestedly. "I'm Charles Gunn," he said.
"Oh," said Xander, relieved. "Well, that was easier than I expected. My name's Alexander Harris - I'm heading up a crew doing some of Persephone's interior reconstruction?" He stuck out a hand to shake.
Charles Gunn nodded. "Good to meet you, Ale--" He had started to reach for Xander's hand but paused, looking down at it.
Xander also looked and, realizing it was blue, let his hand drop. "Oh, yeah, sorry, there was a little... incident. It's kinda been one of those days, you know?"
"Yeah," the man agreed, "I know what you mean."
"On the other hand, I've always wanted to be a smurf..."
The man gave him a friendly smile. "Well, you know what they say. It's never too late."
"Do they say that? I thought they just said, 'Gargamel!' and ran inside their mushroom houses."
Mr. Gunn chuckled. "So Alex, was there something you needed me for?" he asked. "I'm surprised you guys are still on board. We should be leaving any minute now." He glanced at his watch. "Actually, we should have left a couple of minutes ago."
Was it that late? Shit. He'd better hurry. "I sent my crew home already," Xander said, "but I wanted to let you know before I left that the intercom system isn't up and running yet. I can have a guy out to fix it on Monday, but you won't be able to use it tonight. I hope that isn't too much of a problem."
The man frowned. "Well, it's inconvenient, but I'm sure we'll manage. I appreciate you letting me know."
"No problem," said Xander. "But I should probably run now, or else I'll be swimming back home."
"Alright. Nice meeting you."
"You too." Xander turned away from the man and walked swiftly back the way he had come. He so didn't need to be stuck on this boat for the rest of the night covered in paint. The smell was starting to get him a little bit high. When he finally reached the stairs up to the top deck, though, he ran into Juan coming slowly down them. Juan shook his head mournfully.
"Tell me we haven't started moving," said Xander.
"We haven't started moving, boss," said Juan.
Xander ran up the rest of the stairs. They were moving, alright. The L.A. Harbor was right there, still very close, but Persephone was slowly and steadily inching away. The wind blew Xander's paint-stiffened hair around as he watched the port gradually receding from view. Juan walked up behind him.
"You lied to me," Xander said.
"It is not so bad, boss," replied Juan. "We should play cards. Maybe we will win money."
"My face is blue," sighed Xander. "It's pretty bad, Juan."
***
Continued [here].
***
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 11:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 10:28 am (UTC)guessing that was Angel the security bloke hit
haha, you and hello_spikey need to get out of my head! :P
no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 12:58 pm (UTC)"Fainting bots. I'm supposed to keep a bunch of demons from opening the gates of Hell, and you give me fainting bots."
Hee! This is going to be fun.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 10:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 01:00 pm (UTC)And Gunn and his fainting robots :)
no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 10:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 10:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 02:09 pm (UTC)I have too much fun rice like crazy in front of the pc!
See you soon!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 10:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 03:11 pm (UTC)Oh yes, this is building up to be quite the comedy of errors! Now all we need is ANOTHER necklace and maybe some more blue paint on the ceiling fans... :D
no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 10:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 05:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 10:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 10:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 07:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 10:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 08:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 10:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 12:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 10:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 03:33 am (UTC)LMAO. I am so loving this story.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 10:40 am (UTC)glad you're enjoying.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 04:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 10:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 05:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 10:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 06:22 am (UTC)Wonderful Gunn and Wesley voices.
And Spike being a pain in the ass is as it should be. ;0)
no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 10:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 02:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 09:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 04:58 pm (UTC)Smooth, Connor. Very smooth.
And Kate's here too! And Xander did not manage to get off the boat—how surprised are we about that? Not very! Poor Xander, and with blue hair I'm thinking he's in trouble.
"Great," said Gunn. "Fainting bots. I'm supposed to keep a bunch of demons from opening the gates of Hell, and you give me fainting bots."
That line made me burst out laughing. Poor Gunn. What are the odds of such a loud noise happening, indeed? :D
no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 09:13 am (UTC)What are the odds of such a loud noise happening, indeed?
*rubbing hands together evilly* mwahaha....
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 02:27 pm (UTC)And the comedy is on spot. I can just see Spike and the guard and how his final resolution is to toss him overboard and shrug it off. Looking foward to more.
Unfortunately, (well not really unfortunately since I'm very hyped about it) I'm going camping so I may not get to read more until Sunday, but at least I'll have tons of chapters to catch up on :-)
no subject
Date: 2009-06-21 09:28 am (UTC)