Spike yawned as he poured a cup of coffee before walking back to his desk to drink it. "Anything mate?" he asked the brunette that was taking off his jacket.

Angel frowned before shifting from his desk to Spike's. "Bert called this morning. The bank video shows it was a couple of men wearing masks that broke into Central Bank." He paused thoughtfully. "Funny thing is, they didn't even try to open the vault. They just cut a hole in the front door glass, turned off the alarm, and left the door unlocked."

Spike whistled. "That's odd."

"It is, isn't it? Something else that's strange is the cops got a call claiming the place was going to be robbed last night. Of course, the call came in *after* the break-in."

Silence fell and Spike looked up curiously. "Did they get a name on the caller?"

"No. It was anonymous, and the call came from a payphone."

Spike nodded thoughtfully before picking up the newspaper on his desk and handing it to his partner, who scowled when he saw the GTX on the front page under the headline, 'Nemesis Goes for a Spin'.

"Notice anything off?"

"It doesn't..." Angel broke off and went to his desk before pulling out a folder with pictures of Nemesis in it and spreading them out. "It doesn't look like the same girl," he murmured as he compared them.

Spike nodded. "That was my take on it."

"Does look like my car though."

"Oh, it's yours alright," Spike agreed as he quickly typed on his keyboard and brought up several different pictures of Nemesis's drive through town. He glanced up as his partner shifted back to look at his monitor. "Seems like she made quite a splash last night."

"Seems like," Angel agreed thoughtfully. "So someone breaks into a bank and leaves the door unlocked on the same night Buffy drives by and happens to notice it?"

"Don't forget it was also the night someone took a joy ride in your car," Spike spoke up, "and it wasn't our girl at the wheel."

Angel nodded. "She doesn't want us following her... so she asks me on a date, and then uses Nemesis to ditch me... to what? get herself arrested?"

"Doesn't make sense, does it?"

Angel snorted before running a hand through his hair. "I guess it proves she's got accomplices though... And that," he motioned to the newest pictures of Nemesis, "isn't Darla Chambers either."

"She does look a little on the larger size," Spike agreed before rubbing firm fingers across his forehead. "I think I'm getting a headache mate."

"I know the feeling," Angel muttered before pulling a small plastic bag out of his pocket and tossing it on Spike's desk.

"What's this?"

"When Buffy and I spent the night together, she used my comb to straighten her hair, and in the process left a couple of strands in it. One of them has the follicle attached."

Spike's head came up and he studied Angel closely. "And you're just telling me about this now?"

"We were off her case, Spike, and the only thing it would prove would be..."

"That Buffy's dna matched the blood on the knife," Spike finished. Angel nodded as a silence fell, and Spike broke it, "I know it wouldn't be the same as catching her stealing something, but whoever caught Penn knew how to break into a bank, Angel."

"I know... Why do you think I kept the hair, Spike?"

Another silence fell, and Spike sighed as he glanced back down at the plastic bag. "Alright. So we have Red check it out and..." he broke off and glanced back at his partner before giving a slight shake of his head. "You know what it'll mean... unofficially if the dna matches, don't you?"

Angel nodded.

Willow glanced up from her paperwork a few hours later when Spike and Angel entered the lab, and she settled back into her chair with a troubled frown. "You guys got my email, right?"

"Yeah, Will," Spike answered.

She sighed. "The blood sample we took from the bank's missing."

"Was anything else tampered with?"

"No, not as far as we can tell. We're pretty organized here. I mean, we have to be, but," she shrugged, "the knife with the blood on it seems to have been misplaced."

"Do you still have the gun?" Angel asked

"Yeah. We've got the gun, handcuffs, and the surveillance video... just not the blood stained knife." Silence fell, and she leaned back in her chair. "I contacted the Sunnydale Police Department and asked if they'd look the bank over for any spots of blood, and they called back about half an hour ago and said the bank had been professionally cleaned and there wasn't anything left." She tapped a pen on her desk and looked at them apologetically. "We're still looking for it," she added.

Spike nodded. "So do you think someone stole the knife, or do you think it was just misplaced?"

"I don't know." She gave a shake of her head before tucking hair behind her ear. "I mean, we've never lost anything before."

"Well, you'll let us know if it turns up, won't you?"

"Yeah. We've been looking through some of the more recent cases to see if it was put in the wrong box, but so far we haven't had any luck."

The two agents turned to go, and she stopped them. "I suppose you know Nemesis wasn't the one driving your car last night, Angel?"

He turned back. "We thought she looked a little too large."

Willow nodded. "The writing on the card she gave you doesn't look right either. It looks like Riley was right about her having accomplices."

"Unless someone stole Angel's car *from* her," Spike spoke up as he looked at his partner with a hint of amusement.

"Don't even joke about that, Spike," Angel answered grimly before leaving the lab.

Buffy parked the car and took a breath as she absently watched the traffic on the busy street. Her arrest a couple of days ago had given her more than enough incentive to try to regain some control, and the call she'd made to the bar a couple of hours ago had let her know Snyder was taking the night off. It was what she'd been hoping for, and she took one last breath before noticing the car that had parked a block away in front of a Victoria's Secret store. Spike's beat up brown car shouldn't be as easy to spot as Angel's Plymouth, but it was a long way from easily blending into the surroundings. She scowled before deciding it didn't matter. She wasn't doing anything illegal tonight, well, nothing they were going to find out about anyway.

She opened the door, stepped onto the cement before pulling her bag over her shoulder. It took effort not to check and see what the FBI agents were doing, but she managed it as she walked to the door of 'The Strip' and disappeared inside.

Spike snorted as he watched Buffy enter the bar before looking at the neon sign over the door with a woman in a bikini that seemed to take a couple of steps before bending over and winking. He turned to his partner. "She has to know we're following her. I mean, she's given us the slip twice in 4 days, once when she walked through the woods, and once when she ditched you on your date." He turned back to look at The Strip thoughtfully as a silence fell. "So that begs the question... Why did she let us follow her here?"

"I'd like to think she's trying to ditch us, but..." the brunette broke off with a frown. "More than likely, she's here to see Snyder."

"Probably," Spike agreed, "but on the other hand, it looks like tonight's amateur night."

Angel's jaw locked. "She wouldn't."

Spike eyed him with a faint smirk. "I don't know... Buffy Summers might not, but what about Nemesis?"

Angel scowled at the large sign with 'Amateur Night' written on it. He hadn't come to terms with his feelings for Nemesis, but where Buffy Summers was concerned, the thought of her dancing in a striptease club made him want to... he broke the thought. "She's either here to see Snyder... or is trying to lose us," he repeated before shooting a glance at his partner, "and she probably could, since *you'd* be too busy looking at the dancers to notice her sneaking out the door."

"Me?" Spike turned to him incredulously. "At least I've got Dru. You probably haven't been with a woman since the cruise."

Angel rolled his eyes. It was true, but it was by choice. Buffy Summers was under his skin and Nemesis was right there with her. He scowled before looking back at The Strip. "Alright... So let's just go in... and if she's having a drink, we can casually bump into her."

"And if she's not?"

"Then we'll know she's either trying to ditch us, talk to Snyder or both."

Spike nodded thoughtfully. "Alright... then what are we waiting for?"

Buffy smiled at the man standing in front of her. "Amateur night." She shrugged and waited for him to let her backstage. The man eyed her suggestively before stepping out of the way.

"The dressing room's to your right," he informed as she walked past him and started down the hallway.

"Thanks," she called back as she glanced over the hall and forced herself to walk calmly down it. She may be used to taking risks as Nemesis, but she wasn't Nemesis tonight. She frowned before noticing a large man guarding a hallway that split off to the left. His eyes raked over her, and she stopped as she neared him.

"Amateur night," she murmured as she looked past him and down the hall he was guarding. Her eyes lit on a bathroom door, and she eyed it thoughtfully before looking back at the guard.

"That way," he motioned to the right. "Sign in with Belinda and she'll fill you in on how it works."

She nodded and turned the way indicated before finding the door marked Belinda's. She walked into the office and waited behind two younger girls as they giggled their way through the brunette's instructions. The girls left, and Buffy found herself under the stern gaze of the older woman. "Name?" she asked.

"Anne Williamson," Buffy answered and watched as the woman filled in a form.

"Age?"

"Twenty-four."

The black haired woman looked up and adjusted her glasses. "You know the only compensation you'll receive is $15.00 and whatever tips you get from the audience?"

"Yes."

Belinda nodded. "What music would you like?"

Buffy named a tune, and the woman wrote it down before looking back at the blonde. "You'll go on after," she looked down at the song the last girl had told her, "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." Buffy grinned, and Belinda continued, "There will be a minute between dances, and you'll dance through one song and leave the stage. If you'd like to dance again, you can sign up for another song and get another $15.00." The woman studied her appraisingly before meeting her eyes. "You'll receive your payment before leaving tonight, and it'll be cash, so you'll have to sign for it. Do you have any questions?"

"No."

"Good. There are several vanities in the dressing room across the hall. If you find one without any makeup or perfume on it, it should be fine to use." Buffy nodded, and Belinda continued, "There are a few feather boas along the wall that we allow dancers to use... feel free to pick one out if you'd like."

Buffy gave a nervous smile, and the woman's expression softened. "Amateur night is more about having fun than stripping. It's up to you how far you want to go... just give it your best shot and I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Thanks," Buffy murmured.

Belinda nodded before turning to the woman that had just stepped into her office. "Hi Jan," she greeted one of their regular dancers as Buffy headed back into the hall and toward the dressing room.

She ignored the giggling girls practicing on a couple of poles set up at the side of the room as she found a dressing table and studied her reflection in the mirror thoughtfully. She was pretty sure there were two FBI agents in the audience by now, one of which she hoped was at least as interested in her as he was in putting Nemesis in jail. She frowned at that before quickly glancing at her watch. She didn't have time to think about Angel now, not when she had less than 50 minutes to change clothes and fix her hair and makeup, and not just on her face. The scar on her thigh was tiny, but it was there. Of course, a coating of makeup should go a long way toward hiding it...

A moment later, she went over to look at the bright colored feather boas strung on hangers and tried to decide if one would look good with her outfit.

Angel walked into the club and promptly started looking for the girl they were following. She wasn't in sight, and he narrowed his eyes at the guard that was blocking a door beside the stage.

"Let's get a table," Spike murmured.

"And if she went out the back?"

Spike scowled. He couldn't deny they were being outsmarted at every turn, both by Nemesis *and* Buffy. "Her car's right outside mate. We'll just check for it every once in a while."

"Fine," Angel agreed as he eyed the guard again before following the bleached blonde to the bar. His attention rapidly turned back to his partner when he ordered a beer.

Spike caught the look before digging the car keys out of his pocket. "You can drive mate."

"Wonderful," Angel murmured dryly as he took the keys.

Buffy studied her hair and makeup with satisfaction before glancing at her watch. There were still ten minutes to go, and she listened as the seven girls that had signed up for amateur night talked nervously and laughed among themselves. The regular dancers were much calmer as they helped where they could.

"Oh my gosh!" an indignant voice ran through the room, and the women turned to see one of the girls Buffy had stood behind at the registration table poised theatrically in the dressing room door. "The bathroom's locked."

"What?" One of the regulars got up with annoyance and strode out into the hall. She came back a minute later. "Shannon," she called. "The door's locked. Can you take care of it?"

"Sure." A shapely brunette picked up a bobby pin before getting to her feet. "I'll have it open in no time."

"Oh good," Buffy spoke up as she followed the girls into the hall. She was the only one not surprised when Shannon couldn't pick the lock.

"Charlie," Belinda started as she walked up to the guard blocking the hallway on the left. "The door's locked on the bathroom, and the girls need one. I'd rather they didn't have to go out front where the men are between dances. We were hoping we could use Mr. Snyder's restroom since he's gone tonight."

Charlie frowned. No one was supposed to get past him, and they hadn't in the five years he'd worked there. Still, though, he didn't think it would hurt anything for the dancers to use the bathroom. "Fine," he agreed as three of the girls thanked him before walking past and into the forbidden hallway.

Spike eyed the dancer with fascination as she twirled wildly on stage, her 'sexy' dance looking more like his sister's attempts to follow her favorite music video. He looked away, glanced at his partner, and noticed Angel was alternating between looking over the room and looking at his watch. He rolled his eyes before bumping the brunette's arm and raising his voice so it could be heard over the music. "Want me to go this time?"

"What? No. I've got it." Angel got to his feet and headed outside to look over the street for Buffy. Her car was still there, and he sucked in a breath of clean air as a couple of sprinkles hit him before rubbing a hand behind his neck and heading back into the club. This time, the wildly gyrating girl on stage got his attention, and much as Spike had done, he found himself watching with a hint of amazement. It wasn't that she was unattractive, as much as her unpolished moves made her appear much younger than the typical dancers at the club.

"Think Blondie's still with us?" Spike asked as Angel sat back down.

"Her car's in the lot. That doesn't mean she's in the building."

Spike nodded and took another drink. This was an odd case, and he found himself alternately frustrated and amused at Nemesis's, and now Buffy's, antics. He shook his head. He'd almost miss it when it was over... except for the newspaper articles... Walsh's anger... the frustration at being outwitted... He scowled and forced his thoughts away from the case and back to the stage as the girl finished her dance with a perky smile. The crowd applauded, and she walked off the platform with a leggy stride that was more interesting than her moves at the stripper's pole.

"Amateur night," Spike grinned. "It's kind of fun."

Angel returned it before shaking his head. "Think I should talk to the bouncer?"

"Well, I don't know, Angel... You've been staring at the guy for the last hour. It might be good for you to get it out of your system."

"Funny," the brunette muttered before leaning back in his chair with a frown. "She's up to something. I know she is... and when she does it, we're going to end up in Walsh's office looking like idiots."

Spike sobered as he shot a glance at the man guarding the hallway. It wouldn't hurt to talk to him. He could at least tell them if he'd seen...

A slow booming rhythm filled the club, and they both looked toward the stage expectantly. The blonde that walked out a moment later slowly shifted down to the floor, her legs extending into easy nimble splits before she twisted herself back onto spiked heels.

"I guess she's still here," Spike murmured as he looked over Buffy's skimpy pale blue outfit before looking up when Angel got to his feet and headed for the stage.

Her walk to the pole was slow and feline, and Buffy climbed it when she got there, strong legs holding her in place as she dropped her hands and let her body swing around it in a slow rhythm to the music. A few seconds later, she was twisting around it with more speed before allowing herself to sink to the floor. Her back arched, a slow stretch that easily flowed into her climbing to her feet.

Angel stood a few feet from the stage, his dark eyes interested as he studied her. She was moving with the easy grace of someone that could have been a gymnast... or had studied martial arts... definitely with the same confidence he thought Nemesis would have. And even as the thought occurred to him, he couldn't help but watch with appreciation before looking up to meet green eyes.

Her lips twitched up before she climbed the pole one more time, her body twisting gracefully around it for another minute before she lowered herself so she was hanging upside down. A few seconds after that, she shifted her feet to the floor when the song ended.

"So..." Spike looked up as his partner sat back down, "she's still here."

"Yeah," the brunette answered before looking back at the stage and taking a sip of water.

Spike grinned before sobering. "How'd her thigh look mate?"

"Pretty much perfect," Angel answered.

Spike gave a faint smile as he settled back against his chair. "Who knows? Maybe we're barking up the wrong tree. Maybe Nemesis really is Darla."

Angel snorted before shaking his head. "She's not. It doesn't mean she's not involved, but the woman we met at the first heist wasn't Darla."

Buffy tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear as she headed for Snyder's restroom with a small gym bag over her shoulder. She smiled at Charlie as she walked past and checked to see if he was watching when she paused at the restroom door. He wasn't, and she quickly moved farther down the hall before disappearing around the corner. Snyder's name was across one of the locked doors, and she slid on thin gloves before jimmying the lock and quietly slipping inside.

She came out of the office a few minutes later and made her way to the corner that would put her in sight of the guard before cautiously peeking around it. He had his back to her, and she started down the hall with relief. A glance at her watch told her she'd been in Snyder's office a little over ten minutes and she thoughtfully pulled open the door to the restroom before disappearing inside.

"Hey Charlie," Buffy smiled at the man standing guard as she walked past and hoped he wouldn't notice that her 12 minutes of freshening up amounted to blotting some of the moisture off her face and changing clothes.

"Miss." He nodded as she walked back toward Belinda's office, and Buffy grinned. Just like clockwork, all she had to do now was pick up her fifteen dollars and run into the agents she knew were waiting for her. Her grin widened. Who said you couldn't work and have fun at the same time?

"Buffy," Spike looked over Angel's shoulder with slow appraisal as he took in the feline glow that seemed to surround her. "Fancy meeting you here."

Angel turned with a smile. "Hey."

She grinned at him before taking a seat. "So, do you guys spend a lot of time here or what?"

"Not really," Spike cut in. "We were just..."

"Following me?" she filled in.

"Well, you certainly know where to lead," Spike murmured. "Do you come here often?"

"First time. I mean, last night I was thinking about Nemesis, and it dawned on me that I hadn't done anything crazy in a while." She shrugged. "I thought it might be fun."

"Spike and I were thinking we might have to start spending more time here. I mean, some of the dancers are knockouts," Angel spoke up.

Buffy's eyes sparkled. "I'm sure it'll improve once the professionals get on stage."

"I doubt it."

She grinned before glancing at the stage when new music started. A willowy brunette was strutting across it with practiced ease, and she frowned before turning away. "Well, you've got all night to find out. I've got to go." She got to her feet and headed for the door with Angel and Spike on her heels.

"Buffy?"

She glanced back with a little surprise that they were following her so obviously. "Yeah?"

"About what I said at the police station a couple of nights ago..." Angel fell in at her side, and she stopped walking and turned to him. "It's the best advice I have, but I gave it at the wrong time."

She rolled her eyes. "I know how you guys are, Angel. I mean, I've been friends with Riley for years, so..."

"Hey," Spike broke in. "We *both* take offense to that."

Her eyes glinted with amusement. "I'm just saying he's very serious about his job, and I don't think either of you are that much different."

"We're not," Angel answered, "but that doesn't mean we don't make mistakes."

She frowned before looking at him with a curious interest. "Is that an apology?"

"An acknowledgment of a mistake," he clarified.

"It's your *job*, Angel. There's nothing wrong with you trying to do it."

"On that note," he murmured. "How well do you know Reginald Snyder and Luke Perry?"

Silence fell as she studied him. "You really shouldn't..." she broke off and hesitated before giving a slow shake of her head. "You'll find that out soon enough." A moment later, she headed for the door.

Lindsey looked up before holding up his cell phone when Buffy walked into the house. "Angel's car's still in the storage unit. Darla hasn't moved it."

She glanced at him before sliding out of her shoes and padding into the kitchen. Lindsey had shown her how gps tracking worked. It was actually pretty neat, and she'd be a lot more enthusiastic about it if she wasn't worried it would be used against her. "Well, that's good isn't it?"

"Yeah, but," he shrugged, "you'd think she'd be concerned that someone was driving it around town a couple of days ago."

"There's a classic car show starting in a couple of days at the fairgrounds. She might think there's more than one pink '67 Plymouth in town."

"Maybe."

Silence fell, and Buffy pulled out a digital camera in a plastic zip-lock bag and set it on the table.

"What's that?" he asked curiously.

"I found it in my things about an hour ago," she lied. "I... um, went to Snyder's club tonight to try to talk to him." She looked up, met his eyes with calculated unease. "It was amateur night, so I was able to get behind the stage by... dancing."

He looked at her incredulously. "You danced at his strip club? Why? And what do you mean you found it in your things?"

She dropped her eyes to the floor and gave a shake of her head. "I changed clothes, and when I went to change back, the camera was wrapped in my shirt." She hesitated before looking up. "And the reason I went there is because I'm not Nemesis, Linds. I don't know how to pull off bank robberies... I was hoping I could make him understand that." He was still staring at her with disbelief, and she scowled with irritation. "There's a note with the camera," she stated pointedly.

He glanced at the unsigned note stating the pictures were of documents from Snyder's office. "What kind of documents?" he asked as he studied the camera before turning it on without taking it out of the bag. A light lit, and he punched a couple more buttons before frowning at the small pics. "Pretty sure I'll need a computer to get a good look at these." He looked up at Buffy. "Did you take it out of the bag?" She shook her head, and he nodded. "We need to contact Walsh."

"Soon," she agreed, "but not yet." He turned to her with a frown, and she returned it.

"We know where Nemesis's stash is," Lindsey tried to reason with her, "and that Darla, Snyder, and Perry are, if not killers, psychotic. We're going to need help, Buffy."

She leaned toward him. "*One* week Linds. I just want one more week. You can go on the evening news after that for all I care and spill everything that's happened."

He rubbed at his forehead before nodding stiffly, and Buffy got up and grabbed her gym bag before heading up the stairs. She had two phone calls to make, one to Snyder, and one to Giles.

"The Rayne stash," Buffy muttered into the phone after Snyder picked up. "I can give it to you if you give me all the evidence you have on McDonald's death." She listened before giving a slow shake of her head. "I want out of your little organization... and I don't want to deal with lackeys. Tell your boss I can take him to it if he can get Jenny out of jail to get us through the booby traps." Silence fell again before she tapped a finger on her desk. "I think she'll do it for her freedom... and if not for that, I'm certain she'll do it for her life." She listened for a few seconds more before breaking the connection and running fingers through her hair. It was out of her hands now, the only thing left to do was call Giles.

It was a little after nine the next morning when Buffy's answering machine clicked on, and she shut the refrigerator door before freezing when she heard who it was. "We've got Jenny Rayne, and look forward to beginning our treasure hunt at 10 am. Your place Nem... Don't disappoint us."

The machine clicked off, and she set the juice on the table and stared at the wall before looking up when steps sounded in the living room. "Did someone leave a message, Buff?" Lindsey asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"It was... " she broke off. "It was nothing. I don't even think I'll call them back."

He watched with narrowed eyes as she got out a glass and poured some orange juice. He didn't understand why she never leveled with him, but it seemed he always found things out after the fact.

"Did you have time last night to look at the photos?" she asked.

"Yeah, and if the papers are legitimate, and I'm not sure they are, it looks like Snyder's wrapped up in prostitution and drugs. He's dangerous, Buffy, but you already know that, don't you?"

"Pretty sure I got the memo," she agreed before turning toward him with a frown. "What makes you think they're fake?"

"One of the papers looks like a press release about a drug bust at Daniel Holtz's house. It claims the cops were called for barking dogs and that later... all three of them, Holtz and the cops, were found dead in the yard. It goes on to say it looks like they fired on each other and that there was a substantial amount of cocaine in the garage at the time." He gave her a pointed look. "Has that happened yet?"

She frowned thoughtfully before running a hand through her hair. She had to admit, she hadn't taken the time to look over the papers she'd snapped pics of, but she didn't have the time to try to figure it out now. "No. To the best of my knowledge, that hasn't happened." Silence fell, and she took a thoughtful sip of orange juice before looking up. "I've got a few things to do today, but thought we could contact Walsh tomorrow if you want."

"Okaay," he drug out, "but you want to do it tomorrow instead of today?"

She set the empty glass on the table before starting out of the kitchen. "Yeah," she answered absently before turning back. "I um... rented a couple of cars yesterday that are supposed to be delivered," she glanced at her watch, "in half an hour. If you want to help me out, you can take one of them to the store and pick up a half gallon of milk."

His eyes flicked up to hers for a long moment before he nodded. "Sure darling. I'll just need to put on my disguise."

"Thanks." She turned away and headed for the stairs.

Lindsey watched her go with a scowl before turning to look thoughtfully at the orange juice she'd left on the counter. He'd heard the message Snyder had left. He hadn't worked on the Rayne case but knew enough about it to know Ethan had never been caught, and the stolen items had never been recovered. There'd been talk at the time that he'd had some kind of secret room built at the house he and his sister lived in, but it had never been found. In fact, he'd volunteered to help the cops search the 80 acre piece of land six years ago. He put the juice back in the refrigerator. If he was to make a bet, that was where Snyder was taking Buffy in an hour.

He hesitated before starting toward the stairs to get his scarf, hat, light coat, and the spare pistol he'd taken from his apartment. If she didn't want to tell him what was going on, it was fine, but that didn't mean he was going to be left out of the action this time.

"Ah, Darla... I'd hoped to catch you before you left the house," Giles murmured into the phone. "I'm going to be busy for the next few hours and was wondering if you could drive the Plymouth to the car show today. Ever since Collin talked me into painting it pink, he's been wanting to display it as a showpiece." He listened. "Well, yes, I would certainly be in your debt." His eyes narrowed. "I shouldn't be longer than a couple of hours, and you can take the Mercedes home." He smiled darkly at her reply before clicking off the phone and making another quick call.

He felt better than he had in years, he decided, as he got to his feet and walked back to the car. And soon, if things turned out as he hoped, he'd get his revenge. The smile he gave at that was pure ripper.