Summary: Lilah Morgan muses on the little people; Dick investigates MediTech and uncovers a conspiracy that could reach the highest office in the land.
Author's Note: To avoid confusion, all times given are Eastern Standard Time. Again, mucho thanks to Terri Snyder for beta-reading.
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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Los Angeles: Wolfram and Hart, Attorneys at Law
[Friday 0545hrs EST//0245hrs PST//]
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From her 30-story office, Lilah Morgan stared out at the City of Angels. She mused on all the little people down below, scurrying about their dull, daily lives. So far everything had been going according to plan. Unfortunately, Lindsey wasn't dead, yet. But the day was still young.
The agents from the Department of Meta-Human Affairs had been sent from the highest levels. Apparently, Wolfram and Hart's newest client was so powerful, his influence was believed to reach the White House, itself.
She grinned. "I wouldn't doubt it if Vice President Ross is involved. Never did trust his homespun boyish charm." And how about the rest of President Luthor's Cabinet? she mused. Talk about a rogue's gallery straight out of the Book of Saints--all do-gooders, all straight-laced. Maybe one of them could be behind this! But who? Who is our mystery client?
Lilah stared at the night-lights of the city, lost in thought. Whoever the client was, he or she badly wanted MediTech and had gone to exorbitant lengths to acquire it. Lilah thought about MediTech's much vaunted cell research, which made it a pillar in the cancer fighting medical society. Its recent progress in Genome research had won two of its scientists a Nobel Prize and a large grant from the Wayne Foundation. The company's stock had shot up as a result and was currently trading on the New York Stock Exchange at $150 per share.
But Lilah knew that MediTech's public research was not what interested Wolfram and Hart's client. Rather, their shadowy customer sought MediTech's darker, "Special Projects Research," which Lilah surmised could in the right--or wrong--hands give its wielder almost absolute power.
This was the kind of power she coveted. The kind of power for which she'd sell her soul. If I hadn't sold already it to Wolfram Hart, she added wryly.
Her expression darkened, thinking about her current status at Wolfram and Hart. Little more than a toady, she growled. I do all the dirty work and the partners get all the glory. Worse, there was Lindsey. Lilah competed with Lindsey for every scrap of recognition she received--many times winding up on the losing end.
At this admission, her scowl deepened. She felt a momentary cold anger sweep through her. At first Lilah believed that she'd be able to easily brush her primary rival aside, as she had so many in the past, but Lindsey had proven resilient, and in his own way, quite resourceful--a tough adversary.
But Lindsey also had a weakness, one that anyone in their business could ill afford--a conscience. True, like her, Lindsey was regularly called upon to perform many an unconscionable act for Wolfram and Hart, and he carried them out just as coldly as she. Nonetheless, there were times in the past when Lindsey had let his heart get in the way of his duties, and he'd balked at one or another particularly gruesome task.
Of course, such acts of altruism were deeply frowned upon by the senior partners. As a result, Lindsey had been called on the carpet at lease once and forced to pay a handsome penalty. Lilah pouted, frustrated that they'd allowed him to live, placing him on temporary probation.
Still, Lilah smiled in grim satisfaction. Lindsey was weak, and sooner or later, he'd once again succumb to an attack of conscience. Which would be your downfall, my dear, boy--if I were patient enough to wait for you to trip yourself up. But Lilah had no such patience. Therefore, Lindsey would soon cease to be a problem.
Lilah's eyes turned to an antique box of inlaid wood sitting openly on her bookshelf. She brought her wineglass up to her lips and drank deeply, tossing back the remaining contents. Where better to hide something than out in the open? She mused.
Feeling suddenly heady, Lilah threw her arms out in triumph and twirled around her office in an impromptu victory dance. Spinning faster and faster at a dizzying pace, she finally fell in a happy exhaustion on her desk chair. Chest heaving, she leaned far back and closed her eyes, enjoying an overwhelming sense of peace.
She thought again of how she'd finally beat Lindsey. Before the two federal agents had even stepped off the plane at LAX, Lilah had already replaced the firm's stealth demons with her own. Therefore, 'her' demons had possessed the feds and were now on their way to Bludhaven where they were to meet up with Lindsey and that blonde-bimbo vampire that--Lilah giggled in sudden amusement--unknown to him, she'd personally arranged for.
And best of all, the demons were to kill Lindsey and make it look like an accident. Under no circumstances was his death to be traced back to her. Wolfram and Hart encouraged unhealthy rivalry among its junior executives, but they discouraged the unauthorized disposal of company employees who still had several more years left to serve on their blood contracts.
After all, an employee's soul came at a high price, and the company expected to reap a high return for its initial investment on everyone they 'hired.' Taking in the rather luxurious accommodations of her executive suite, Lilah admitted that the firm offered its employees the finest benefits possible. All one had to do was sell his soul to the firm--literally. Still, when an avaricious soul was tempted with material wealth beyond his wildest dreams, plus a great vacation package and health benefits (to include dental), he willingly signed on the dotted line--in blood.
Once on staff, the employees gave Wolfram and Hart their undying loyalty and carried out the firm's rather shadowy agenda. However, if they failed in their assigned duties, or tried to betray the company in some way, they faced an eternity of damnation in some hellish alternate dimension.
Lilah shuddered at the possible tortures that she faced if she were caught. Were the rewards worth the risk, she wondered?
Again, her eyes traveled towards the antique box, and her hand automatically fingered a small key hanging from her neck. After a moment, she grinned again. "That's a most definite yes!" she declared. Recalling the events of the past few days, she thought about her success in finding a copy of the ever-elusive demon-controlling spell of Braxta, a 10th Century ascetic scribe who seemed to have spent a lot of time copying texts from the dark arts and not much else.
"Must've been a barrel of laughs at parties," she muttered.
According to all the ancient literature on demonology, Braxta's spell was lost some 600 years ago after one of those incredibly stupid purges of so-called 'witches' that seemed to have been rampant in Western Europe at the time. Apparently, an illiterate farmer accused a local hermit of being in league with the devil--Lilah rolled her eyes at this--after the recluse warned him that his chickens would stop laying eggs if the farmer didn't feed and water them regularly. When his warning proved true, the farmer accused the hermit of being a sorcerer, and the poor man was burned at the stake.
That's what he gets for being stupid! Lilah grumbled. Maybe next time he'll know enough to keep his big mouth shut.
In this case Lilah knew, the ignorant farmer had actually been right. The recluse had indeed been a sorcerer, and unfortunately, his store of books and knowledge was lost with him. Or so, the legend went. Luckily, I don't believe in dusty old legends. After all, if one raggedy old hermit could have a copy of Braxta's controlling spell, then so could others. Lilah immediately started an Internet search, and quickly got several hits. Happily, Los Angeles' teeming underworld population proved yet again to be of great help.
An underground website led her to a Morha demon who knew an Ebla demon whose littermate knew a lost soul that...Well, to make a long story short, the trail finally led her to her quarry, a recluse transcriber demon, living deep inside the sewer system. Recalling their meeting, Lilah's nose wrinkled...
She remembered looking carefully around the demon's shadowy, smelly, and creepy underground home, jumping at every scurrying sound that announced yet another sewer rat, avoiding the foul water that dripped unrelentingly from above.
"Don't you think you're carrying out this hermit tradition just a little too far?" she asked in exasperation. "After all, this is the 21st Century! Why don't you move into a condo or a town house? There's always a new housing complex going up along Lake Shore Drive."
"I don't like people," he growled. "They're too messy."
Looking around at the filth in which he lived, Lilah rolled her eyes. "You're kidding, right?"
The demon ignored her. "Besides, they smell funny." At that, he gave a sudden sniff in her direction and paused, intrigued. "What is that scent? Most unusually pleasant." He sniffed again, taking a step towards her. At that, Lilah stepped back nervously.
"I-it's just my perfume," she stuttered. "Midnight Song."
"Most pleasant," he repeated, but didn't approach her again. Gathering her courage, Lilah quickly went straight to business.
"I understand that you have the sole-remaining copy of Braxta's controlling spell. I want it, and I'm willing to pay any price to get it."
"Not for sale," the scribe said, instantly dismissing her. "Now, I'm terribly busy, so if you'll excuse me, I have things to do."
As he turned away, Lilah's natural battle instincts took over, and she plunged in for a long fight. In the end, of course, Lilah got what she wanted. The demon might be several hundred years old, but he was no match for a legal mind that had been honed under the 'gentle' ministrations of Wolfram and Hart. Besides, she let him sniff her perfume again.
"How do I know that you will not turn the spell against me?" he demanded. "You humans are most treacherous. Why, you willingly turn against your own mothers."
"True, but she needed killing," Lilah admitted with a shrug. "I'll tell you what...I'll sign a blood contract guaranteeing that the spell will never be used on you. What do you say? Do we have a deal?"
In the end, the price she paid for Braxta's spell was ridiculously cheap. And the two demons she now had under her control would pay back her investment a thousand-fold...
"Too bad for our mysterious client, my demons own the two agents. And I own the demons."
Lilah thought of the lengths to which she'd gone to find a transcriber demon that had a copy of the controlling spell she needed--a demon scribe who could be bought. Funny how everyone had a price. Even demons. The scribe's asking price? A bottle of her perfume, Midnight Song, plus a chance for a fresh start somewhere else.
Apparently, Angel Investigations was hurting the local demon business, and several of LA's evildoers were losing their soulless lives. Unfortunately for them, since they had no souls and were basically totally evil, if they died in a fight against the forces of good, their 'reward' was suffering in agony for all eternity.
So, the demon scribe wanted out of LA, and she had the means to whisk him out. She drew up the necessary blood contract, a one-for-one exchange: Braxta's demon controlling spell for a one-way, all-expense-paid trip to Aruba. The transcriber demon would get to live the easy life on a nice, warm, and sunny Caribbean island. While she replaced the stealth demons that Wolfram and Hart had arranged for, with two that she controlled. Both parties got what they wanted.
"And everybody's happy." Smiling, she added, "The best part of it is...I'll soon be rid of Lindsey."
She poured herself another glass of wine and took a sip, not bothering to give thought to the four drinks she'd already downed, nor to the fact that she still had to drive home. She might be low on the Wolfram and Hart totem pole at the moment, but at least, she wasn't on the same level as the losers below.
And soon her position at Wolfram and Hart would change for the better. She'd finally receive the ultimate prize--a full partnership. Gazing out at the night full of little, inconsequential people, she murmured, "There but for the grace of God--"
"I doubt if God's Grace has had anything to do with you or your accomplishments."
Lilah whirled around, a sharp gasp involuntarily escaping her lips. In her momentary panic, she spilled the drink she'd been holding. Realizing who her unwelcome guest was, Lilah immediately put on her best power-face and reached for the phone.
Angel grabbed her before she could pick it up and alert security. "You know that we have vampire monitors," she said calmly. "Security will be here any second and--"
"That's all the time I need," Angel said, smiling gently. Somehow, that made him even more frightening. On closer inspection, Lilah could almost see into the darkness of his soul. She swallowed nervously. Even with a soul, Angel was still a vampire. And ever since the messy 'incident' with Darla and Dru, he hadn't exactly been playing by the old rules.
Thirteen dead, she thought with a shiver. Of course, that meant thirteen less rivals against whom she had to contend. But still, she could easily become number fourteen.
"What do you want?" Lilah demanded, jerking her wrist free from Angel's grasp. He let her go and waited. Lilah's nervousness grew. "Well--?" Angel smiled. Again, the gentleness of his expression sent a cold shiver shooting up and down her spine.
"I want to see you and Lindsey burn in Hell," he answered. "But until then, I'll settle for some information."
Lilah tensed. "What kind of information?"
"The kind you seem to be good at getting. Word on the street is that Wolfram and Hart is mediating a corporate merger with a company in Bludhaven. Something about expanding your somewhat shadowy influence on the East Coast. Bludhaven would, of course, only be the toehold--you plan on expanding from there. Maybe to Gotham City or Metropolis. Or, who knows...maybe even Washington, DC."
"What--?" Lilah laughed outright, but it sounded forced. "Washington, DC? What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about Wolfram and Hart recruiting a couple of stealth demons into shanghaiing two federal agents. I don't know why--yet. But you're going to tell me--"
A pounding at the door interrupted them.
"Ms. Morgan? Ms. Morgan, are you all right?"
Lilah opened her mouth to respond, but Angel instantly placed a finger ever so gently on her lips. He gave her his most charming smile, his dark, brooding eyes actually lighting up in amusement.
"I don't have to warn you about what I'll do if you don't say the right thing?"
Not for the first time since Lilah started working at Wolfram and Hart, she felt an icy fear in the pit of her stomach. Staring into the vampire, Angelus' warm, dark eyes, Lilah nodded. Angel stepped aside. She looked at him uncertainly, but at his nod, she walked to the door, opening it part way.
"Uh, y-yes! I'm fine," she said to the guards, not letting them in. "Please, I have a ton of paperwork to catch up on. Is this an emergency?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the security officer apologized. "We just got definite readings that an unregistered vampire is in the building, and our instruments traced him here. I'm afraid that we're going to have to search your office."
"Look here!" Lilah said, outraged. "I already told you--"
"I'm sorry, ma'am. Boss's orders." With that the contingent of security guards stepped into her office and began to sweep it with their specialized instruments.
Within minutes, they were leaving, apologizing for disturbing her. Once they were gone, Lilah stood in the middle of her office, feeling indecisive. Where was he, she wondered?
"Here," he said, stepping in from the window. Startled, Lilah gasped. Angel grinned, self-effacingly. "It's nothing." Then, his voice dropping several degrees, he added in low, silky tones, "Now, as you were about to tell me..."
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Bludhaven: the Corporate Offices of MediTech
[Friday 0545hrs EST]
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Dick emerged from the Men's Room, and clipboard in hand, walked confidently down the brightly lit hallway. He wore a white lab coat, complete with pen/pencil plastic pocket holder, fake ID clipped to his pocket, and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.
The picture of ultra-geekness, he thought with pride.
A couple in deep conversation passed him in the corridor. Dick avoided eye contact by suddenly appearing thoroughly engrossed in the contents of his clipboard. He studiously held his pen over it, to all outward appearances making very important annotations to his very important papers.
As soon as the couple stepped around the corner, Dick continued his search for the records office. Finally, he found it, a heavy-gauge, steel door labeled 'Records: Authorized Personnel Only.' A security keypad was installed on the right hand side of the door. Bringing his hand up to his horn-rimmed glasses, Dick pressed a hidden button.
Instantly, a virtual heads-up display appeared before his right eye. He quickly scrolled a retina-activated menu, selecting an 'Open Sesame' icon. He blinked, activating it. Immediately, the icon was replaced by a virtual keypad with five flashing numerals.
Taking a brief moment to study the keypad, Dick deciphered the proper sequence for the security code. He blinked twice, deactivating the 'Open Sesame' program, and punched in the numerical code onto the real security keypad. The steel-gauge door clicked open, and Dick immediately stepped inside.
"I'm in," he whispered.
"Nice going, Hunk Wonder," Barbara teased seductively in his ear. "Now how about running a quick scan so's I can see whatever there is to see?" Nodding, Dick complied. Reactivating his special glasses, he turned his head 360 degrees, transmitting digital telemetry. "Hmmm...nice stuff," Barbara murmured in admiration.
Dick grinned, knowing that she was referring to the ten, shoulder-high servers that lined the wall along one side. "Easy, Babs," he whispered. "I might get jealous."
"Can you hook me up to one of them?" she asked. "I want to get a look-see at their files--hopefully without their disappearing on me as soon as I access them."
"You got it." Dick quickly removed his glasses, and unscrewing the left ear guard, he carefully pulled out a pair of wires. Unscrewing the right ear guard, he extracted a double-ended connector, and taking the wires, he jacked them to the female end of the connector. Next, he plugged the male end to the server.
"Okay, Babs," he said. "I've got you hooked. Stand by for transmission." At Barbara's acknowledgement, Dick pressed the same hidden button on the glasses. "And we're hot," he said quietly.
"Standing by..." Barbara said. "Got it! Data's coming in!"
"Good. While you play with your toys, I'll just take a looksee 'round this vault," Dick told her. He spotted a row of filing cabinets across the room. Quickly glancing through the outside tags, he found one labeled 'W.' Shrugging, he grabbed the handle and pulled.
Locked.
Inspecting the small lock, Dick shook his head. "They've gotta be kidding," he muttered and quickly picked it. Within minutes, he found a thick file labeled 'Wolfram and Hart.' As he pulled it out of the drawer, a single sheet of paper suddenly slipped from it onto the floor. Bending to pick it up, Dick caught a glimpse of the letterhead. And stopped cold.
"I've got something, Babs," he murmured.
"What is it?" she asked, sounding distracted.
"A carbon copy of a contract--dated yesterday--signed by a representative from Wolfram and Hart, Lindsey McDonald." He whistled softly. "Babs, you won't believe this. It looks like the signature was written in--" He paused, swallowing in distaste. "--in blood."
Barbara gasped. Fingering the letterhead, Dick found his voice and added softly. "Babs, that's not all. Wolfram and Hart is apparently working with MediTech on something big with LexCorp!"
"LexCorp?" Barbara hissed. "Dick, the two witnesses that Addad interviewed last night--they said they'd just completed brokering a deal with LexCorp!"
"Yeah...something about signing on the dotted line." Dick paused, reading.
"Dick, I haven't had enough time to go through all the data that's being downloaded, but so far, there's no mention of LexCorp. And..." she paused. "And remember the earlier information I found on a merger being brokered by Wolfram and Hart--?"
"Yeah...What about it?" he asked.
"It's disappeared! And so far, I haven't been able to find it on any of the current data that you're sending." Barbara's voice sounded worried. "Dick, these people are fast erasing any trails that could lead back to them. Soon there's going to be no records left that can be traced--for whatever they're doing!"
"Hmmm...I wouldn't be too sure about that," Dick muttered, glancing through the file he held. "Babs, isn't MediTech known for its Genome research? Didn't they clone a sheep, or something?"
"Sure, they're pretty much on the leading edge of gene research--and in cloning experimentation," Barbara replied. "They've even been giving Star Labs a run for their money lately. Everybody knows that."
"So then, I suppose that everybody also knows about MediTech's secret research into Meta-human genetics? More specifically, the study of vampires and other monsters?"
"What?"
"And that LexCorp has just signed a Top Secret agreement with them to somehow merge LexCorp's study of Kryptonian genetics with that of MediTech's vampire research?"
"But the Supreme Court ruled the research into Kryptonian genetics as illegal and ordered it all destroyed!" Barbara protested. "In a unanimous agreement, the Court stated that just the possibility of Superman being cloned was too great a threat for the world and all of humanity in order to be allowed!"
"I know, Babs," Dick said patiently. "The world's just plain lucky that Superboy didn't turn out to be some kind of Super-Frankenstein's Monster. To make sure that another Super-clone was never created again, the JLA personally carried out the Supreme Court's order and destroyed all the known genetic research material on Superman. The Titans witnessed the destruction, remember? I was there! I saw!"
There was a long silence from the other end, finally broken by Barbara's tentative voice. "Then what do you think all this means?"
"I think that maybe the Kryptonian genetic material I witnessed being destroyed was not all the material that had been created," he said quietly. "And that maybe LexCorp is trying to clone Superman." He paused, gazing at the distinctive Presidential Seal on the letterhead of the contract. Despite a sudden sinking feeling, he continued his voice even.
"Or worse...There is the distinct possibility that the President of the United States may be trying to clone his own private Army of the Undead."
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End of Part 6