Terror Aboard the Persephone! (part 3)
Jun. 13th, 2009 06:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
girlpiremore!
Title: Terror Aboard the Persephone! (Part Three)
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]
[Part 2]
***
Terror Aboard the Persephone!
Part Three
***
Angel had a headache.
He reflected, while climbing through the large air conditioning vents and crawl spaces of the boat, that maybe coming here hadn't been the best idea. What's a little Hell on earth every now and then anyway? That's not so bad, right? He'd survived Hell for over a century, and he was doing fine. Except for the whole wriggling on his belly through a series of metal tunnels not meant for a man to wriggle through, soaked to the bone in ocean water, in pursuit of a lemon scent in order to stop an apocalypse thing. That, he could do without.
Plus the headache.
In two and a half centuries of battles to the death being a fairly regular occurrence, it wasn't an unprecedented event for a man to land on Angel's head - but he had to admit it was the last thing he'd expected while swimming towards a casino cruise boat docked in the L.A. Harbor. He'd just stuck his head up above the water for a look around when a man wearing a security guard uniform came flying off the side of the boat and splashed down directly on top of him, bonking him in the head hard enough to give them both concussions. Angel had been forced back underwater for a moment but then resurfaced, coughing and sputtering curses, to find the guy unconscious. He hauled the guy back to the marina and shoved his body up onto the dock, but as soon as the man's eyelids began fluttering, Angel swam away again. He looked back a minute later to see some people running toward the man. He'd be alright, which was good, but Angel was annoyed to find that he'd lost sight of the group of demons he'd been following.
So he'd made his way back through the water towards the boat and climbed up the side where he'd last seen the demons, and now he was tracking their distinct scent through the ship's underbelly. There were eight of them, so Angel figured they'd be traveling a little more slowly than he was, which meant he'd catch up to them soon. If he didn't freeze to death first. The temperature outside was pleasant enough, but crawling through an air conditioning ventilation shaft in wet clothes while putting off no body heat was a chilling experience, to say the least. And his head hurt. He gritted his teeth and kept going, shoes squishing with every movement.
He was very much looking forward to killing these things.
***
"And then," Kate said to Steve the card dealer, "he said we could work it out. Work it out. Really!"
Steve the card dealer gave her a sympathetic look. "He really said that, huh?"
"Really!" Kate emphasized. She took a sip of her drink. She had just lost another hand of five card stud, but she wasn't really paying attention. The games weren't for stakes until they hit international waters anyway, and yes, she was already on her third drink and the boat hadn't even been moving for fifteen minutes. But she deserved a break this week, damn it. "So I told him, I said, being nineteen years old and not even telling me - that's not something you can just work out."
Steve the card dealer nodded. "I can't believe he didn't tell you," he said.
"I know. And that's not something you can just work out, right? I mean, I'm thirty years old. And we had sex. I knew he was young and all, but I figured 24, 23 maybe. But I could be his mother." She pointedly drank some more.
"I don't think eleven years is old enough to be a mother," Steve the card dealer said.
She shook her head. "No, I'm thirty. Thirty. God."
"Well, you would have been eleven. If he's nineteen and you're--"
"His babysitter, then," Kate interrupted, waving away the math. "I could have been his babysitter. Hell, I was his babysitter. We dated for two months, and really all it was was babysitting. And sex. God." She sighed. "You know, I used to be a police officer. I used to arrest people like me. Sickos."
"You're not a sicko," Steve the card dealer told her. "If he didn't tell you how young he was, you couldn't have known. Besides, eleven years difference isn't that bad. People do it all the time."
Kate gave him a little smile. "Thanks, Steve," she said. She put her hand down on the table near his, her fingertips resting lightly on his fingers.
Steve the card dealer cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Uh, you're welcome," he said. "Do you want to play another practice round?" He reached up to scratch his nose briefly with his left hand, which is when Kate noticed the wedding band. She slumped a little on her stool, taking her hand back. Figures.
"Might as well," she sighed, and finished off the rest of her drink.
Before married Steve could deal the next hand, though, a uniformed member of the Persephone crew approached the table. "Captain Griffin asked me to inform everyone that we've entered international waters," the crew member said. "All games are for stakes from this point on."
Married Steve frowned. "I thought the captain was going to make an announcement when we reached international waters," he said.
"He was." The crew member rolled his eyes. "Apparently they haven't gotten the intercom system running yet. Now I have to go around and tell all the dealers personally."
Married Steve the card dealer nodded. "Alright, thanks man," he said. As the crew member headed for the next table, married Steve turned back to Kate. "You want to play for real this time?" he asked.
Kate considered. She'd lost all three of the practice rounds they'd played and she didn't have very much money with her, considering how drunk she planned to get. "I better not," she decided. She held up her empty glass. "I think that was my cue to go get another drink."
Married Steve gave her a polite smile. "Well, it was nice meeting you," he said.
"Yeah, you too," Kate said, standing.
As she made her way to the bar at the other end of the game room, Kate passed by a grumpy-looking young man whose face was half painted blue. She tried to stop feeling sorry for herself. Things could always be worse.
***
Things couldn't be any worse, Xander decided. Officially, this was the worst there could be. He'd thought at one time that it couldn't get worse than going out on your first date with a beautiful woman and ending up suspended several feet above a demonic manhole cover with runes cut into your torso so your blood could drip onto an evil goat face and open the mouth of Hell, but that was before he'd gotten stuck at work for five extra hours on a Friday night with a blue face, no cell phone, and a guy who smelled like beans.
He left Juan at a slot machine in the gigantic game room and began hunting down a place to try to clean himself up. If he were going to be here for a while, he might as well try to make the most of it. He debated stopping to get himself a drink first, but too many people were staring at him, and he figured, screw it. He'd get a drink later. First he'd clean off his face, then get himself tipsy, and then he'd learn how to gamble. He wondered what the exchange rate was for kittens and poker chips.
He finally found the restroom and set to work scrubbing the paint off his hands and face with some water and paper towels. It took several minutes to get it all, and even then he still didn't look normal. His face and neck were bright pink from the scrubbing, and he still had wide blue streaks in his hair. Oh, well. It would have to do. Eventually, his face would turn back to its normal color, and he could just pretend the blue hair was intentional. People do things like that sometimes, right? It's not like anyone would call him on it.
He still smelled strongly of paint, though, and that's never attractive. He glanced around the room. There was a can of spray air freshener sitting on the floor in the corner underneath the counter. That could work. He picked it up and read the label. Well, it was definitely not the scent he'd have chosen for himself, but anything's better than eau de Benjamin Moore. He gave himself a quick spritz with the air freshener, then another longer one just to be on the safe side.
It was... actually kind of pleasant. But now he smelled like a commercial cleansing product. He sighed. Blue streaked hair and Fresh Lemon Scent. Yeah, there's pretty much no way this day could get any worse.
***
"First of all, on behalf of Wolfram and Hart, I'd like to thank you all for coming," Gunn said from the stage in the main ballroom. This was the same stage where the onboard entertainment was going to be about halfway through the auction. "We're going to get started in just a moment, but first I'd like to talk a little bit about how the proceeds from this auction will be used, and the ways in which our clients will benefit from the exciting changes the firm is going through under the direction of our new CEO, Angel. Angel sends his regrets that he couldn't be here tonight, but he assured me that if any of you would like to speak to him in person, he'd be happy to set up a meeting at our L.A. offices..."
Gunn proceeded to bullshit his way through a long and particularly boring introduction to the auction, while at the same time managing to remain charming and likeable to the clients. It was a gift. When he finally turned the captive audience over to the auctioneer, the anticipation in the room was palpable. The auction would begin with some smaller items of interest, but clearly the Hermaion was what everyone was here for. From his vantage point at the front of the room, Gunn was relieved to find that, while some of the attendees looked distinctly demonic, none of them matched Wesley's description of the Phlegethonites.
That didn't mean that none were here, though. Gunn wasn't paranoid, but he knew better than anyone that it didn't hurt to take precautions when the fate of the world was at stake. As bidding on the first item began, he moved with a sigh toward the storage closet at the back where the security bots were waiting. He would only activate a couple of them.
Gunn slipped inside the storage closet and was startled to encounter several men standing there waiting. It actually took a moment to realize that the men weren't really men. Damn, the bots looked even more real this time than they did last time. It was disconcerting. They were all the same size, but their faces and hair were different. They were wearing the same uniforms as the other Persephone security guards, with the obvious difference being a small patch on the right shoulder with the letters WH depicted in gold thread. Wesley had really gone all out on this.
Gunn went to the first of the bots and reached around to the small of its back, flicking a tiny switch under its uniform shirt. He took a swift step back as the bot's eyes opened. It turned toward him.
"Mr. Gunn," the bot said. "I am KR491. My orders are to follow your every command. How may I service you?"
Gunn grimaced. Maybe the bots didn't have human-like emotions anymore, but this one immediately sounded more flirtatious than he was comfortable with. "Do you know about the Phlegethonites, 491?" he asked.
"They are Class 6 demons, sir. Their most telling features are blue-streaked hair and an odor of lemons, and they feed on the dead flesh of human beings. I am ordered to terminate them on sight." The bot tilted its head. "Unless your command conflicts with my programming, Mr. Gunn. Only you are allowed to override me."
"I don't intend to over..." Gunn cleared his throat, "ride you, 491."
The bot took a step closer to him. "Then I will protect you from these blue-haired demons with all of my significant strength and prowess, Mr. Gunn. I want nothing more than to please you."
"Good. That's... good," Gunn responded uncomfortably. "Just, do it from a way's off, alright?"
"A way's off?" the bot repeated.
"You're standing too close to me," Gunn said.
"I apologize, Mr. Gunn. Where would you like me to stand?" asked KR491. "I will position myself in whatever way you desire."
Gunn gritted his teeth. Wesley was so dead.
"Would you like to inspect my weapon, Mr. Gunn?" the bot asked.
***
Connor was actually enjoying himself. He'd been gambling for about twenty minutes, was up $36 in Blackjack, and so far he hadn't seen his ex anywhere, which was good. Maybe she'd decided not to come after all. He hadn't seen Jess either, but he didn't expect to until her show started, which was supposed to be around nine. He still had a while.
He'd just finished another round when Jessica suddenly plonked herself down in the seat next to his. He turned and grinned at her. "I'm winning," he said. "This is pretty cool."
"Great," said Jessica. "That's great." Her voice sounded kind of tight, but she gave him a little smile. "I'm glad you decided to come."
"Yeah, me too. But I didn't really expect to see you until the show." He frowned. "Are you alright?"
She had a hand pressed against her stomach and was taking slow, deep breaths. "I'm fine," she said. "I just. Kind of feel like ralphing, is all."
"Oh. Nerves still?"
"Yeah. It's not usually this bad." She swallowed. "Remind me never to eat at El Sombrero on performance nights again."
"Noted. You want me to get you a drink? Maybe it would help... I don't know, calm you down or something."
Her head gave a tiny negative shake. "I should probably just find a place to lie down. Wait until it passes."
"Is there a place?"
"I don't know. I haven't looked around. I'm trying not to move very much." She took another deep breath. "I did the drink thing already. I'm thinking it was a bad idea."
"Oh. Right." They sat there quietly for a moment, but then Connor stood up, gathering his chips. He shoved them in his pockets. "Let's go up to the sundeck. Fresh air," he said.
Jess swallowed again. "I don't know. I don't think I should walk around for a while."
"You'll be fine," said Connor. "I'll help you. Here." He took her arm and helped her stand up.
"Connor, I don't really think--"
"Come on, Jess. It's not that far. And you'll feel better."
"No, I think I'm going to--" Her eyes suddenly went very round and panicky.
Connor just barely had time to think Oh, shit before Jessica upchucked what was previously (and still recognizably) the number six special from El Sombrero. There was actually a lot more vomit than one would have estimated her smallish body to contain. The impressive amount of puke splashed out over her own clothes, the floor, part of the Blackjack table, and some of it even got on Connor himself before he had time to jump out of the way.
People stared. Some of the other players were scooting away quickly.
"I'm... sorry..." Jessica whispered, still hunched over. A trail of spit was clinging to her bottom lip.
"It's... it's okay," Connor stammered. He looked down at his shirt. Some of the vomit was dripping down onto his pants as well. Great. "I'll just. We need to... you wanna go to the bathroom or something? To clean up?"
She nodded, gingerly cupping a hand around her mouth.
"Alright. Let's go." Connor glanced over at the horrified Blackjack dealer. "Sorry," he said with a little shrug.
***
Angel peered down into a small room through a grating in the wall. He was currently inside a ventilation shaft that led off of the engine room, and the heated air was drying his clothes. He was much more comfortable now than he'd been earlier, although his hair was flatter than he would have liked.
The demons he'd been following were inside this small room. They appeared to be waiting for something, so Angel waited as well, pointing his feet towards the warmth in hopes of drying his shoes. A few of the demons were wringing out their clothes and muttering.
Finally, there was a sharp knock on the door, and one of the demons hurried to open it. The four other demons wearing white hats came into the room, shutting the door behind them. They took off their hats and shook out their blue-streaked hair.
"Well?" rasped one of the demons Angel had followed, the one he was considering the leader of the group.
"Right now, the security is minimal and easily evaded," answered a white-hat. "But I do not think it is wise to wait and place a bid on the Hermaion. We must take it by force, and we must move quickly."
"Why?" asked the leader. "If security is as you say..."
"It will not remain so for long," cut in another of the white-hats. "We were just in the auction room. We overheard a man in a closet reciting his orders to his master. He plans to kill us."
"One man?"
The first white-hat looked sheepish. "There were two voices. We could not count how many total men there actually were without giving ourselves away. I think we should assume there are several. Surely no one would send only one man to take on an entire Phlegethonite clan."
"And you are sure he was speaking of us?"
"He called us by name."
The leader nodded. "And what of the Hermaion?"
"It is here. We have not seen it, but there was discussion of its presence before the auction began. It is undoubtedly in the safe room."
"You have done well," the leader said. "We will take your suggestion to move quickly and with force, Azra. But we will not take the Hermaion right away. We must first discover all we can of the men sent to guard it. Once we know with whom we are dealing, we shall destroy them and the Hermaion will be with its rightful protectors once again."
The other demons all nodded and murmured varying words of agreement in their strange throaty voices.
"I have one more interesting piece of information for you," said Azra the white-hat. He smiled smugly. "There is a vampire on board."
Angel stiffened in his hiding place. What? How the hell...?
Below him, the twelve demons all began grinning at each other and licking their lips.
"That is indeed interesting information," the leader said. "It has been a long while since we have had vampire meat."
"I hoped you would allow us to hunt it," Azra continued.
"The Hermaion is our first priority," the leader said. "We must not fail to retrieve it. But if any of us do encounter the vampire... I see no harm in capturing it for our victory feast."
"Are you sure it was a vampire?" asked one of the other demons. He looked small. Angel figured he was probably the youngest.
"Of course, Zazz my son," Azra replied. "I have never been wrong in such matters."
"But how do you know?" asked Zazz. Angel was grateful for the question. He'd very much like to know how Azra knew about him as well.
"I saw it," Azra explained patiently. "And I immediately sensed its vampire nature."
Angel silently berated himself. How could he have let one of the demons see him? It was very careless.
"It had dealings with an incompetent security guard as we boarded the ship," continued Azra. "Its supernatural strength would have been evident even if I had not been able to smell its otherness."
Angel thought about hauling that unconscious guard out of the ocean. Yeah, the guy had to have been incompetent to fall off the side of the boat like that.
"What does it look like?" asked Zazz.
"Its looks are inconsequential, my son," Azra replied. "Do humans ask what color feathers their chicken meat had as they consume it?"
"I don't know," Zazz said. "Do they?"
"No," said Azra. "They do not."
"But how will I know it if I see it?" asked Zazz.
Azra frowned at him. "Do not attempt to capture the vampire, my son," he said. "You are too young and inexperienced for such a fight as it would give." But to the others, he said, "The meat is wearing all black. It has on a long leather coat."
Angel sighed. Wonderful. Now he couldn't take any of them by surprise.
"We will split up," the leader said. "Go in pairs. Gather all the information you can on those sent to kill us, and meet back in this room in an hour. Remember, our primary concern is the Hermaion, but look for the vampire as well. Once we have completed the ritual, it will be nice to taste such a delicacy again."
The demons all murmured their raspy agreement, and two by two they left the room. Angel waited until they were gone, then opened the grate and jumped down from his hiding place. He needed to take out these demons quickly, and he knew just which pair he intended to start with.
He picked up the leader's trail and began to follow it.
***
Continued [here].
***
Title: Terror Aboard the Persephone! (Part Three)
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]
[Part 2]
***
Terror Aboard the Persephone!
Part Three
***
Angel had a headache.
He reflected, while climbing through the large air conditioning vents and crawl spaces of the boat, that maybe coming here hadn't been the best idea. What's a little Hell on earth every now and then anyway? That's not so bad, right? He'd survived Hell for over a century, and he was doing fine. Except for the whole wriggling on his belly through a series of metal tunnels not meant for a man to wriggle through, soaked to the bone in ocean water, in pursuit of a lemon scent in order to stop an apocalypse thing. That, he could do without.
Plus the headache.
In two and a half centuries of battles to the death being a fairly regular occurrence, it wasn't an unprecedented event for a man to land on Angel's head - but he had to admit it was the last thing he'd expected while swimming towards a casino cruise boat docked in the L.A. Harbor. He'd just stuck his head up above the water for a look around when a man wearing a security guard uniform came flying off the side of the boat and splashed down directly on top of him, bonking him in the head hard enough to give them both concussions. Angel had been forced back underwater for a moment but then resurfaced, coughing and sputtering curses, to find the guy unconscious. He hauled the guy back to the marina and shoved his body up onto the dock, but as soon as the man's eyelids began fluttering, Angel swam away again. He looked back a minute later to see some people running toward the man. He'd be alright, which was good, but Angel was annoyed to find that he'd lost sight of the group of demons he'd been following.
So he'd made his way back through the water towards the boat and climbed up the side where he'd last seen the demons, and now he was tracking their distinct scent through the ship's underbelly. There were eight of them, so Angel figured they'd be traveling a little more slowly than he was, which meant he'd catch up to them soon. If he didn't freeze to death first. The temperature outside was pleasant enough, but crawling through an air conditioning ventilation shaft in wet clothes while putting off no body heat was a chilling experience, to say the least. And his head hurt. He gritted his teeth and kept going, shoes squishing with every movement.
He was very much looking forward to killing these things.
***
"And then," Kate said to Steve the card dealer, "he said we could work it out. Work it out. Really!"
Steve the card dealer gave her a sympathetic look. "He really said that, huh?"
"Really!" Kate emphasized. She took a sip of her drink. She had just lost another hand of five card stud, but she wasn't really paying attention. The games weren't for stakes until they hit international waters anyway, and yes, she was already on her third drink and the boat hadn't even been moving for fifteen minutes. But she deserved a break this week, damn it. "So I told him, I said, being nineteen years old and not even telling me - that's not something you can just work out."
Steve the card dealer nodded. "I can't believe he didn't tell you," he said.
"I know. And that's not something you can just work out, right? I mean, I'm thirty years old. And we had sex. I knew he was young and all, but I figured 24, 23 maybe. But I could be his mother." She pointedly drank some more.
"I don't think eleven years is old enough to be a mother," Steve the card dealer said.
She shook her head. "No, I'm thirty. Thirty. God."
"Well, you would have been eleven. If he's nineteen and you're--"
"His babysitter, then," Kate interrupted, waving away the math. "I could have been his babysitter. Hell, I was his babysitter. We dated for two months, and really all it was was babysitting. And sex. God." She sighed. "You know, I used to be a police officer. I used to arrest people like me. Sickos."
"You're not a sicko," Steve the card dealer told her. "If he didn't tell you how young he was, you couldn't have known. Besides, eleven years difference isn't that bad. People do it all the time."
Kate gave him a little smile. "Thanks, Steve," she said. She put her hand down on the table near his, her fingertips resting lightly on his fingers.
Steve the card dealer cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Uh, you're welcome," he said. "Do you want to play another practice round?" He reached up to scratch his nose briefly with his left hand, which is when Kate noticed the wedding band. She slumped a little on her stool, taking her hand back. Figures.
"Might as well," she sighed, and finished off the rest of her drink.
Before married Steve could deal the next hand, though, a uniformed member of the Persephone crew approached the table. "Captain Griffin asked me to inform everyone that we've entered international waters," the crew member said. "All games are for stakes from this point on."
Married Steve frowned. "I thought the captain was going to make an announcement when we reached international waters," he said.
"He was." The crew member rolled his eyes. "Apparently they haven't gotten the intercom system running yet. Now I have to go around and tell all the dealers personally."
Married Steve the card dealer nodded. "Alright, thanks man," he said. As the crew member headed for the next table, married Steve turned back to Kate. "You want to play for real this time?" he asked.
Kate considered. She'd lost all three of the practice rounds they'd played and she didn't have very much money with her, considering how drunk she planned to get. "I better not," she decided. She held up her empty glass. "I think that was my cue to go get another drink."
Married Steve gave her a polite smile. "Well, it was nice meeting you," he said.
"Yeah, you too," Kate said, standing.
As she made her way to the bar at the other end of the game room, Kate passed by a grumpy-looking young man whose face was half painted blue. She tried to stop feeling sorry for herself. Things could always be worse.
***
Things couldn't be any worse, Xander decided. Officially, this was the worst there could be. He'd thought at one time that it couldn't get worse than going out on your first date with a beautiful woman and ending up suspended several feet above a demonic manhole cover with runes cut into your torso so your blood could drip onto an evil goat face and open the mouth of Hell, but that was before he'd gotten stuck at work for five extra hours on a Friday night with a blue face, no cell phone, and a guy who smelled like beans.
He left Juan at a slot machine in the gigantic game room and began hunting down a place to try to clean himself up. If he were going to be here for a while, he might as well try to make the most of it. He debated stopping to get himself a drink first, but too many people were staring at him, and he figured, screw it. He'd get a drink later. First he'd clean off his face, then get himself tipsy, and then he'd learn how to gamble. He wondered what the exchange rate was for kittens and poker chips.
He finally found the restroom and set to work scrubbing the paint off his hands and face with some water and paper towels. It took several minutes to get it all, and even then he still didn't look normal. His face and neck were bright pink from the scrubbing, and he still had wide blue streaks in his hair. Oh, well. It would have to do. Eventually, his face would turn back to its normal color, and he could just pretend the blue hair was intentional. People do things like that sometimes, right? It's not like anyone would call him on it.
He still smelled strongly of paint, though, and that's never attractive. He glanced around the room. There was a can of spray air freshener sitting on the floor in the corner underneath the counter. That could work. He picked it up and read the label. Well, it was definitely not the scent he'd have chosen for himself, but anything's better than eau de Benjamin Moore. He gave himself a quick spritz with the air freshener, then another longer one just to be on the safe side.
It was... actually kind of pleasant. But now he smelled like a commercial cleansing product. He sighed. Blue streaked hair and Fresh Lemon Scent. Yeah, there's pretty much no way this day could get any worse.
***
"First of all, on behalf of Wolfram and Hart, I'd like to thank you all for coming," Gunn said from the stage in the main ballroom. This was the same stage where the onboard entertainment was going to be about halfway through the auction. "We're going to get started in just a moment, but first I'd like to talk a little bit about how the proceeds from this auction will be used, and the ways in which our clients will benefit from the exciting changes the firm is going through under the direction of our new CEO, Angel. Angel sends his regrets that he couldn't be here tonight, but he assured me that if any of you would like to speak to him in person, he'd be happy to set up a meeting at our L.A. offices..."
Gunn proceeded to bullshit his way through a long and particularly boring introduction to the auction, while at the same time managing to remain charming and likeable to the clients. It was a gift. When he finally turned the captive audience over to the auctioneer, the anticipation in the room was palpable. The auction would begin with some smaller items of interest, but clearly the Hermaion was what everyone was here for. From his vantage point at the front of the room, Gunn was relieved to find that, while some of the attendees looked distinctly demonic, none of them matched Wesley's description of the Phlegethonites.
That didn't mean that none were here, though. Gunn wasn't paranoid, but he knew better than anyone that it didn't hurt to take precautions when the fate of the world was at stake. As bidding on the first item began, he moved with a sigh toward the storage closet at the back where the security bots were waiting. He would only activate a couple of them.
Gunn slipped inside the storage closet and was startled to encounter several men standing there waiting. It actually took a moment to realize that the men weren't really men. Damn, the bots looked even more real this time than they did last time. It was disconcerting. They were all the same size, but their faces and hair were different. They were wearing the same uniforms as the other Persephone security guards, with the obvious difference being a small patch on the right shoulder with the letters WH depicted in gold thread. Wesley had really gone all out on this.
Gunn went to the first of the bots and reached around to the small of its back, flicking a tiny switch under its uniform shirt. He took a swift step back as the bot's eyes opened. It turned toward him.
"Mr. Gunn," the bot said. "I am KR491. My orders are to follow your every command. How may I service you?"
Gunn grimaced. Maybe the bots didn't have human-like emotions anymore, but this one immediately sounded more flirtatious than he was comfortable with. "Do you know about the Phlegethonites, 491?" he asked.
"They are Class 6 demons, sir. Their most telling features are blue-streaked hair and an odor of lemons, and they feed on the dead flesh of human beings. I am ordered to terminate them on sight." The bot tilted its head. "Unless your command conflicts with my programming, Mr. Gunn. Only you are allowed to override me."
"I don't intend to over..." Gunn cleared his throat, "ride you, 491."
The bot took a step closer to him. "Then I will protect you from these blue-haired demons with all of my significant strength and prowess, Mr. Gunn. I want nothing more than to please you."
"Good. That's... good," Gunn responded uncomfortably. "Just, do it from a way's off, alright?"
"A way's off?" the bot repeated.
"You're standing too close to me," Gunn said.
"I apologize, Mr. Gunn. Where would you like me to stand?" asked KR491. "I will position myself in whatever way you desire."
Gunn gritted his teeth. Wesley was so dead.
"Would you like to inspect my weapon, Mr. Gunn?" the bot asked.
***
Connor was actually enjoying himself. He'd been gambling for about twenty minutes, was up $36 in Blackjack, and so far he hadn't seen his ex anywhere, which was good. Maybe she'd decided not to come after all. He hadn't seen Jess either, but he didn't expect to until her show started, which was supposed to be around nine. He still had a while.
He'd just finished another round when Jessica suddenly plonked herself down in the seat next to his. He turned and grinned at her. "I'm winning," he said. "This is pretty cool."
"Great," said Jessica. "That's great." Her voice sounded kind of tight, but she gave him a little smile. "I'm glad you decided to come."
"Yeah, me too. But I didn't really expect to see you until the show." He frowned. "Are you alright?"
She had a hand pressed against her stomach and was taking slow, deep breaths. "I'm fine," she said. "I just. Kind of feel like ralphing, is all."
"Oh. Nerves still?"
"Yeah. It's not usually this bad." She swallowed. "Remind me never to eat at El Sombrero on performance nights again."
"Noted. You want me to get you a drink? Maybe it would help... I don't know, calm you down or something."
Her head gave a tiny negative shake. "I should probably just find a place to lie down. Wait until it passes."
"Is there a place?"
"I don't know. I haven't looked around. I'm trying not to move very much." She took another deep breath. "I did the drink thing already. I'm thinking it was a bad idea."
"Oh. Right." They sat there quietly for a moment, but then Connor stood up, gathering his chips. He shoved them in his pockets. "Let's go up to the sundeck. Fresh air," he said.
Jess swallowed again. "I don't know. I don't think I should walk around for a while."
"You'll be fine," said Connor. "I'll help you. Here." He took her arm and helped her stand up.
"Connor, I don't really think--"
"Come on, Jess. It's not that far. And you'll feel better."
"No, I think I'm going to--" Her eyes suddenly went very round and panicky.
Connor just barely had time to think Oh, shit before Jessica upchucked what was previously (and still recognizably) the number six special from El Sombrero. There was actually a lot more vomit than one would have estimated her smallish body to contain. The impressive amount of puke splashed out over her own clothes, the floor, part of the Blackjack table, and some of it even got on Connor himself before he had time to jump out of the way.
People stared. Some of the other players were scooting away quickly.
"I'm... sorry..." Jessica whispered, still hunched over. A trail of spit was clinging to her bottom lip.
"It's... it's okay," Connor stammered. He looked down at his shirt. Some of the vomit was dripping down onto his pants as well. Great. "I'll just. We need to... you wanna go to the bathroom or something? To clean up?"
She nodded, gingerly cupping a hand around her mouth.
"Alright. Let's go." Connor glanced over at the horrified Blackjack dealer. "Sorry," he said with a little shrug.
***
Angel peered down into a small room through a grating in the wall. He was currently inside a ventilation shaft that led off of the engine room, and the heated air was drying his clothes. He was much more comfortable now than he'd been earlier, although his hair was flatter than he would have liked.
The demons he'd been following were inside this small room. They appeared to be waiting for something, so Angel waited as well, pointing his feet towards the warmth in hopes of drying his shoes. A few of the demons were wringing out their clothes and muttering.
Finally, there was a sharp knock on the door, and one of the demons hurried to open it. The four other demons wearing white hats came into the room, shutting the door behind them. They took off their hats and shook out their blue-streaked hair.
"Well?" rasped one of the demons Angel had followed, the one he was considering the leader of the group.
"Right now, the security is minimal and easily evaded," answered a white-hat. "But I do not think it is wise to wait and place a bid on the Hermaion. We must take it by force, and we must move quickly."
"Why?" asked the leader. "If security is as you say..."
"It will not remain so for long," cut in another of the white-hats. "We were just in the auction room. We overheard a man in a closet reciting his orders to his master. He plans to kill us."
"One man?"
The first white-hat looked sheepish. "There were two voices. We could not count how many total men there actually were without giving ourselves away. I think we should assume there are several. Surely no one would send only one man to take on an entire Phlegethonite clan."
"And you are sure he was speaking of us?"
"He called us by name."
The leader nodded. "And what of the Hermaion?"
"It is here. We have not seen it, but there was discussion of its presence before the auction began. It is undoubtedly in the safe room."
"You have done well," the leader said. "We will take your suggestion to move quickly and with force, Azra. But we will not take the Hermaion right away. We must first discover all we can of the men sent to guard it. Once we know with whom we are dealing, we shall destroy them and the Hermaion will be with its rightful protectors once again."
The other demons all nodded and murmured varying words of agreement in their strange throaty voices.
"I have one more interesting piece of information for you," said Azra the white-hat. He smiled smugly. "There is a vampire on board."
Angel stiffened in his hiding place. What? How the hell...?
Below him, the twelve demons all began grinning at each other and licking their lips.
"That is indeed interesting information," the leader said. "It has been a long while since we have had vampire meat."
"I hoped you would allow us to hunt it," Azra continued.
"The Hermaion is our first priority," the leader said. "We must not fail to retrieve it. But if any of us do encounter the vampire... I see no harm in capturing it for our victory feast."
"Are you sure it was a vampire?" asked one of the other demons. He looked small. Angel figured he was probably the youngest.
"Of course, Zazz my son," Azra replied. "I have never been wrong in such matters."
"But how do you know?" asked Zazz. Angel was grateful for the question. He'd very much like to know how Azra knew about him as well.
"I saw it," Azra explained patiently. "And I immediately sensed its vampire nature."
Angel silently berated himself. How could he have let one of the demons see him? It was very careless.
"It had dealings with an incompetent security guard as we boarded the ship," continued Azra. "Its supernatural strength would have been evident even if I had not been able to smell its otherness."
Angel thought about hauling that unconscious guard out of the ocean. Yeah, the guy had to have been incompetent to fall off the side of the boat like that.
"What does it look like?" asked Zazz.
"Its looks are inconsequential, my son," Azra replied. "Do humans ask what color feathers their chicken meat had as they consume it?"
"I don't know," Zazz said. "Do they?"
"No," said Azra. "They do not."
"But how will I know it if I see it?" asked Zazz.
Azra frowned at him. "Do not attempt to capture the vampire, my son," he said. "You are too young and inexperienced for such a fight as it would give." But to the others, he said, "The meat is wearing all black. It has on a long leather coat."
Angel sighed. Wonderful. Now he couldn't take any of them by surprise.
"We will split up," the leader said. "Go in pairs. Gather all the information you can on those sent to kill us, and meet back in this room in an hour. Remember, our primary concern is the Hermaion, but look for the vampire as well. Once we have completed the ritual, it will be nice to taste such a delicacy again."
The demons all murmured their raspy agreement, and two by two they left the room. Angel waited until they were gone, then opened the grate and jumped down from his hiding place. He needed to take out these demons quickly, and he knew just which pair he intended to start with.
He picked up the leader's trail and began to follow it.
***
Continued [here].
***
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 11:30 am (UTC)Poor littls Xander, I see already see him hunted from all sides :)
I love to have a bit of this to read every day.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 09:16 am (UTC)it's nice to be able to post a bit every day. i'm glad you're following along!
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Date: 2009-06-13 12:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 09:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 12:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 09:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 01:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 09:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 02:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 09:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 03:02 pm (UTC)Awesome story. I'm having a blast reading it.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 09:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 04:41 pm (UTC)You've got all the voices spot on, well done, and thanks and can I have some more please?
no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 09:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 05:06 pm (UTC)And Kate is Connor's ex! Hee! I did not see that coming.
Since this is billed as a comedy, I'm now going to venture a far-fetched prediction: that as a favor to his friend Jessica, who's been felled by food poisoning, Connor will join the performance in the role of Persephone. With sequins and stuff.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 09:32 am (UTC)one of the hardest things about plotting this story was keeping track of who knows or has met/would recognize whom. like, which characters could interact with which characters without going, you're here too??? until the appropriate moment. but that was part of the fun. :)
heh, is it weird that your prediction is not as far-fetched as you claim?
no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 06:18 pm (UTC)The only problem is that Angel does not look like Poirot.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 09:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 12:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 06:45 pm (UTC)I can't wait for the next chapter.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 09:37 am (UTC)he certainly does! (it's all in the name of in-characterness. i know very little else about connor, so i have to play the older woman card to convince you that i know what i'm talking about when i write him. heh.)
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Date: 2009-06-14 09:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 06:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 09:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 08:41 pm (UTC)D
no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 02:27 pm (UTC)Gunn's bots have been programmed, all right. Programmed to flirt and faint. Boy, that's helpful.
Kate getting hammered and hitting on "Steve" was also funny. Her "You know, I used to be a police officer. I used to arrest people like me. Sickos." She's beating herself up royally already, but what's going to happen when she discovers Connor is Angel's son?
Poor Xander, all blue haired and lemon fresh, he's going down for sure. Now that Connor has been sprayed with barf, maybe he'll join in with the lemony freshness!
Thanks for making me laugh and laugh.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 06:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 10:37 pm (UTC)Sorry for very short comment. RSI is bad.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 06:38 am (UTC)i had to look up what RSI is. i'm sorry you are/were in pain. :(
no subject
Date: 2009-06-15 07:08 am (UTC)I could see Xander getting into trouble with his blue hair but adding lemon fresh to his woes made me laugh.
Poor Kate. Hitting on Steve, or maybe Steve just thinking she was hitting on him...:0)))))
And Gunn and the bots. Wesley is so dead. *snort*
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 06:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-25 09:03 pm (UTC)I don't know. Do they? Finished. Me. Off.
And of course the demons want to eat the vampire(s). Of course.