Summary: Cordelia decides to investigate on her own and quickly runs into danger.
Author's Note: To avoid confusion, all times given are Eastern Standard Time.
Disclaimer: Nightwing is owned by DC Comics and Time/Warner; Angel and company are owned by Joss Whedon and 20th Century Fox; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright. Constructive feedback is welcome!
Copyright January 2002
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Nightwing/Angel: Shadow Dancing
By Syl Francis
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Bludhaven: Covered Garage,
Corporate offices of Medical Technology and Cell Research, Inc.
(AKA MediTech Tower)
[Friday 0521hrs EST]
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Cordelia slowed to a walk as she reached the underground tunnel that led into the lower levels of the covered garage.
"Okay. If I was an elevator, where would I be?" she muttered. She stared at the tunnel's dark recesses. "Not that way," she decided firmly. "Elevators go up. That's a definite down!" The sound of a motor echoed eerily in the early morning darkness, startling her. Without thinking, she ducked into the shadows in the tunnel's entrance.
"Down it is," she whispered, ruefully. Listening intently, she waited, her heart hammering in her chest. Within a few moments, she heard the screech of tires in the distance, roaring into the Bludhaven predawn darkness. The deserted garage loomed threateningly. Cordelia swallowed, looking around in quick, furtive movements. Her mind's eye pictured a vampire behind every parked car. What was she doing here? This was Angel's territory.
She stopped. Angel wasn't here. He'd fired her, she reminded herself. Again! Cordelia straightened her shoulders.
"Well, I don't need Angel," she muttered. "This is my case. My vampire!"
She stopped again. Vampire. She looked at her empty hands and swallowed. If she was hunting a vampire who was bent on siring new ones, then it would be the height of folly to go after it without any weapons. Cordelia took a deep, shaky breath, wiping her hands on her leather jacket. She felt momentarily uncertain of her next move. "What would Angel do?" she wondered.
At her words, Cordelia rolled her eyes at herself. "Duh! He'd go in and kick some serious vampire butt. The question is...what would Wesley do?" She smiled to herself. Her favorite 'rogue demon hunter'--as Wesley once described himself--would arm himself with so many weapons, he'd be rendered ineffective.
No, the best tactic for Cordelia would be that of scout: Investigate the area and find a way into the building. Once inside, she should locate the office where the latest victim was murdered. As soon as she had the information, then she should report back to Nightwing.
"Only, I don't know how to contact him," she suddenly realized. And his mysterious assistant, Oracle, hadn't left a calling card. Studying the now threatening, gloomy tunnel, Cordelia felt an icy fear take hold. Shaking her head, Cordelia chastised herself.
"Get a grip, Cordy," she muttered. "It's five-thirty in the morning. What can go wrong?"
With these words, Cordelia headed into the tunnel...
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Gotham City: Clock Tower
[Friday 0530hrs EST]
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Barbara Gordon sat hunched over her terminal, squinting with absolute concentration at her monitor. She'd started her search for the partial license plate number almost as soon as Dick called it in.
According to Dick's report, the female suspect who'd claimed the victim's body at the city morgue had been wearing dark glasses (in the middle of the night), a black overcoat, black boots, and gloves.
Precluding any chances of fingerprints, Barbara sighed.
The morgue attendant further described the suspect as having long, blonde hair and very pale skin.
"Pale skin!" Barbara repeated sardonically. "I'll bet!"
Furthermore, Lopez stated that he thought he'd seen movement from inside the van, indicating that the suspect had a companion. However, the informant hadn't been certain.
The van was black, with heavily tinted windows--almost opaque--black drapes strung around the rear windows. Lopez told Dick that he'd offered to help the 'bereaved sister' load her brother's body onto the van, but she'd surprised him by easily hefting the gurney entirely by herself.
"California plates, 2RSF--something," Barbara muttered. "Not much to go on." At this moment, her terminal beeped, indicating that her search had hit on something of interest. Quickly accessing her database, Barbara scanned the information as it scrolled by.
Pausing the scrolling every few lines or so, Barbara read and discarded data at a speed borne of long experience. Suddenly she stopped.
Several plates with the four-digit prefix caught her attention. Each of the plates was registered in Los Angeles to a single corporate owner--Wolfram and Hart.
Her glasses sliding down the bridge of her slender nose, Barbara stared at screen before her, trying to recall where she'd recently seen mention of the LA law firm.
Something about a mass murder...
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Bludhaven: Covered Garage,
MediTech Tower
[Friday 0540hrs EST]
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...The tunnel's murky gloom embraced Cordelia. She felt a slight shiver at the noticeable drop in temperature. Mentally hardening her resolve, she took a determined step forward. As she walked, she clung to the tunnel's far right side, running her fingers lightly along the cold, concrete wall to keep her balance. The only sound was that of her footsteps echoing along the length of the passage.
Cordelia squinted, trying to see through the opaque blackness. She surmised that the tunnel probably curved up ahead, explaining why she couldn't see the other end. She could also discern a noticeable drop, as the tunnel descended into the lower regions of the parking garage.
To save on the high cost of energy, the interior lights were probably on a timer and turned off during the morning hours. Unfortunately, since this was January, sunrise was still another hour or so away.
Just like home, she thought wryly. What was a good vampire-hunt without the requisite dark and sinister place? Somebody tell me again why I'm doing this? She asked herself, and then added, answering her own question, Because there's a female vampire going around collecting good-looking, single, young men.
"And good-looking, single, young men are hard enough to find these days," she muttered.
"That's so true!"
Cordelia gasped, jumping at the vaguely familiar voice behind her. She whirled around, but couldn't see anything. She had to be at the midpoint of the tunnel's curve, because she was enveloped in total darkness, unable to see in either direction.
"Who said that?" she demanded. Cordelia mentally kicked herself. She'd meant to sound self-assured and assertive, but her voice barely registered above a whisper.
"Don't you remember me?" The soft, taunting voice asked from behind her. Cordelia again spun around. Nothing.
An amused laugh resounded eerily through the tunnel. Cordelia fell back against the wall, and started running in the same direction from where she'd come, looking over her shoulder at whatever might be coming from behind her.
Unexpectedly, she slammed into something that grabbed her by the arms. Cordelia shrieked and pulled with a desperation borne of adrenaline-induced strength, managing to break away.
Keeping her balance, Cordelia stumbled in the opposite direction, heading deeper into the tunnel. All of a sudden, the beautiful psychic tumbled over an unforeseen obstacle, a waist-high chain that was strung across the tunnel, which closed it to vehicle traffic.
Cordelia cried out in surprise as she went over, falling with enough force to knock the wind out of her. Struggling to regain her feet, Cordelia could feel her strength failing, depleted by her growing terror.
"You know, you only have yourself to blame for this, Cordelia. You should never have started hanging out with those loser-friends of Buffy!"
Startled, Cordelia looked up. "Y-You know me? You know Buffy?"
Her questions were met by ugly laughter. "Who doesn't know of the Slayer?"
Again, Cordelia was struck by the uncanny familiarity of the disembodied voice. Who was it? Fighting her gut-wrenching fear, Cordelia scooted backwards until she ran into the concrete wall. Keeping her back to it, she used the wall to help her regain her feet.
Cordelia could sense the evil presence nearby. It was coming closer. Feeling around for a weapon of any sorts, Cordelia's hand closed around the chain that she'd stumbled over.
"Why are you afraid, Cordelia?" the mocking voice asked. "We used to be friends, remember? We even made the cheerleader varsity team together."
"Who are you?" Even as she spoke, Cordelia worked with panicked haste, pulling at the chain to free it from whatever kept it bolted to the wall.
"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you!" Cordelia's unseen tormentor burst into amused laughter. Frantically, Cordelia planted one foot against the wall and started pulling with all her strength.
"Get it? I'd have to kill you?"
In desperation, Cordelia also placed her other foot against the wall and yanked with renewed frenzy.
"On the other hand," the disembodied voice continued, "You always were so stuck up." She paused, and then burst out in amused laughter. "And sucked big-time as a cheerleader. I guess I'll have to kill you anyway."
As Cordelia pulled with all the power she could muster, she almost jumped out of her skin as someone tapped her on the shoulder. The adrenaline rush brought on by this new onslaught of terror, multiplied the intensity of her efforts, and suddenly, Cordelia, the chain, and whoever was standing behind her, went over backwards!
She could hear the metallic clang of the bolt as it fell onto the tunnel's concrete floor.
Cordelia and her would-be attacker both screamed simultaneously. However, Cordelia recovered first, and swinging the chain as hard as she could, she lashed out blindly, connecting.
"Ow! Hey, that hurt!" the surprised entity cried. "And my hair! You better not have messed up my hair!"
"I am not stuck up!" Cordelia cried, diving in the direction she'd thought she heard the bolt fall. Crawling on all fours, she felt urgently around for it.
"Oh, yeah? Well, you never liked me! You only pretended to be my friend."
That caused Cordelia to pause. Who was that? The voice was so familiar--? Her hand suddenly closed around the large bolt. She experienced a moment of triumph as she ran her fingers along its sharpened tip. Straightening her shoulders, she suddenly stood and defiantly faced the dark, her hand firmly closed around the deadly weapon.
"Pretended to be your friend? Hel-lo? I don't usually make friends with vampires," she said.
"And what about Angel?" the voice countered. "I suppose because he has a stupid soul, he's not a vampire?"
"Maybe," Cordelia admitted. "But at least when he looks at me, he's not wondering what kind of wine I'd go best with!"
The voice laughed. "Wine? Really, Cordelia--you're more like a blue-plate luncheon special at some cheap diner."
"Okay," Cordelia muttered to herself. "Now you've made me mad." Whipping the bolt around in her hand, she threw out a challenge, "In that case, I hope I give you heartburn--!"
At that moment, a flashlight's beam, coming from somewhere behind Cordelia, pierced the darkness and fully exposed her mysterious attacker.
"Harmony--?" Cordelia squealed. It was the last thing she saw as her head exploded!
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Bludhaven: Traveling South on the "Spine"
[Friday 0545hrs EST]
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"You ran the down the plates?" Dick asked, pleased by Barbara's quick success. Signaling a lane change, he turned his motorcycle towards the US 61 on-ramp. The major artery cut through the heart of Bludhaven. "Have I told you lately that you're beautiful?"
"What does being beautiful have to do with running down license plates?"
"Well, I could've told you that you're a genius, but that wouldn't earn me a kiss later, would it?"
Barbara's soft laughter caressed his ear, sending a thrill through his body. "Don't count on it, ex-Boy Genius," she teased. "I'm still waiting for my flowers."
Dick smiled in turn.
"So you say you found a connection between an LA law firm--Wolfram and Hart--and MediTech?" Dick asked, instead. "Just what kind of cell research does MediTech do anyway? And what about ties to LexCorp? Any bites?" Barbara groaned at his pun. Dick smiled as listened to the sound of papers rustling over his earpiece.
"Let's see..." Barbara murmured. "According to company classified documents, Wolfram and Hart petitioned the Securities and Exchange Commission early last year to broker a merger between Medical Technology and Cell Research, Inc., better known as MediTech and...Sorry, the second company's identity remained Top Secret, its name kept off all official documents."
She paused, whistling under her breath as she continued to read through the lengthy legal papers.
"Hmmm...? Here's something else that's a little interesting. Apparently, the SEC nixed the merger--or at least, it wouldn't give the green light to the LA law firm to act as the go-between for the two companies. Something about Wolfram and Hart's questionable bookkeeping practices."
"What about their bookkeeping?" Dick asked curiously. He saw his exit for Avalon Heights coming up and signaled a lane change.
"Couldn't tell you," Barbara replied. "All correspondence between the SEC and the LA firm has been wiped from existence. Even the original SEC files I hacked into--the ones that named the LA firm. They must've had a self-destruct, because as soon as I opened them, they set off a virus command, which immediately destroyed them."
"And there's nothing left?" Dick asked, surprised that Barbara might have been caught flatfooted.
"Well, the dot-com trail completely peters out. That is, what I can access from here--"
"And--?" Dick asked.
"--And it appears that the major players mentioned earlier have either disappeared, or simply ceased to exist. Names, dates, everything--"
"But--?"
"--But I have a photographic memory and am even now reconstructing everything that I read before the whole thing crashed."
Dick pulled his motorcycle into MediTech's parking garage. He slowed as he came to an automatic tollbooth, and stopping, pressed the button on the auto-ticket dispenser, taking one. The single-arm barrier instantly went up, permitting him entrance. Driving around the covered garage for a few moments, Dick couldn't find a parking space and decided to try the lower parking areas.
"Beautiful and a genius." He spoke as he slowly followed the arrows pointing toward the lower levels.
"Hmmm...?" Barbara asked, distracted.
"I said, dinner at your place after we close this case."
"You bring the eats, I'll supply the seats," Barbara quipped.
"That's a deal," Dick readily agreed. Then, getting immediately back to business, he mused aloud, "Babs, you said that some of the people involved seemed to have just disappeared. But there has to be something--some kind of a trail at least. I mean, people don't just disappear--"
"Duh--! Tell me something I don't know, Boy Detective. I'm working on it, okay?"
"Hey, okay, okay--we're still on for dinner, so don't start trying to get mad at me or anything."
"Interrupt me again while I'm working from memory, and you'll owe me more than dinner. And flowers won't cut it, either. I'll expect something that Catwoman would want to steal."
"I'll tell you what. You reconstruct the lost data from memory, and I'll get you flowers, a gourmet dinner, and a bauble so garish that you'll need sunglasses to look at it."
"You can keep your bauble, Mister Heir to the Throne. But I'll take the gourmet dinner and flowers. With an incentive like that, I'll be done before you finish with your end there."
"Wanna make a bet?" he asked, playfully. Barbara's unexpected response made him suck in his breath between his teeth. Her low, husky voice whispered suggestively in his earpiece, making him blush at first, and then smile broadly.
"You've got a bet, Ms. Gordon," he murmured. He finally spotted an open space, and parking checked his watch. 05:45. It was almost daylight. Taking a small knapsack from his saddlebags, Dick looked around for the employee elevators. After a couple of minutes of fruitless search--How the heck do these people get to work?--he found them, hidden in a darkened, recessed area.
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End of Part 5