Summary: Cordelia finds herself alone. Wesley and Gunn get their marching orders. Nightwing continues to play detective. And even Titans West gets in on the action. How can anything go wrong?
Author's Note: To avoid confusion, all times given are Eastern Standard Time. And mucho smackaroos to Terri for continuing to have the patience of beta-reading endless drafts.:)
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: Location unknown
[Friday 0545hrs EST]
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"Uhhhnnn..." Cordelia painfully blinked her eyes open. What happened? The back of her head throbbed where she'd been struck. She reached up, tenderly feeling the spot.
"Ow!" She quickly drew back her fingers, the sharp pain bringing a flood of images, quick-cut flashes of dimly seen shadows dancing through her head. She'd been investigating the parking lot, she recalled.
When...what?
Straining to look up at the ceiling that lay hidden in the deep shadows surrounding her, Cordelia realized that someone had struck her from behind the instant that the vampire revealed herself.
"Harmony?" Cordelia croaked, still stunned by revelation. Then quirking her head to one side, she added, "What self-respecting vampire would sire her?" She shook her head. "No accounting for taste."
She tried sitting up, but couldn't. She was firmly shackled to the bed--across the chest, thighs and ankles. She could move her forearm up to her the elbow, but that was about all the movement she had.
"Terrific, probably keeping me for a midnight snack," she muttered.
"Oh, you'll be much more than a snack!"
At that moment, the door opened, admitting a stream of light and her vampire hostess--Harmony.
"Ta-da!" Harmony gave Cordelia a dramatic pose. "What do you think?" she asked. "I might be dead, but I'm still gorgeous!"
Cordelia bit back a retort. Instead, she lay quietly, not daring to say anything that might antagonize the female vampire.
Harmony slinked up to the foot of the bed and looked down at Cordelia, her tongue playing across her lips.
"And you, Cordelia...Look at you. Good enough to eat." She burst out in helpless peals of laughter. "Get it? Good enough to eat--?"
"I get it, Harmony!" Cordelia snapped. "I guess dying didn't improve your sense of delivery. You never could tell a joke!"
"I can so too--!" Harmony pouted instantly.
"As if--!" Cordelia interrupted. "You always laugh before you say the punch line--!"
"Shut up!" Harmony cried. "Y-You j-just remember who's in charge here! Remember, I'm the vampire, and you--you're just a-a side dish."
As she spoke, Harmony moved in on Cordelia, wagging her finger at the prostrate girl. Now, the female vampire stood threateningly close, her rage transforming her into her true self. Baleful eyes glared hungrily at the helpless prisoner. Sharp fangs glimmered in the dim illumination from the open door.
Cordelia stared back at her former friend, her heart hammering in her chest.
"You're going to be my minion's first kill," Harmony growled. "You know what new vampires are like when they first wake up! Driven wild by their bloodlust--like animals. And I'm going to enjoy every bloody, gory minute of watching you scream and squirm!"
"You--? You have a minion?" Cordelia sneered. "If I were a vampire and found out I'd been sired by you, I-I'd stake myself!"
"Oh, yeah?" Harmony spluttered. "Well...you--you were a lousy cheerleader!"
"Duh--! Who gained a hundred pounds and almost got herself kicked off the squad?" Cordelia shot back.
"Five pounds! I only gained five pounds!" Harmony countered. "And you're the one who wanted me kicked off. I overhead you talking to Marcie." She grinned unpleasantly. "But I had the last laugh, didn't I, Cordelia?"
Cordelia glared back, refusing to respond.
Harmony straightened, her features returning to normal. She turned to leave, and paused at the door, giving Cordelia a triumphant smile that sent cold chills shooting up and down the beautiful Seer's spine.
"You shouldn't have been mean to me, Cordelia. I wanted you to be my friend. I wanted you to like me. If you'd been nicer, I might've considered turning you. We could've had pajama parties and talked about guys and make-up and clothes for all eternity--"
"Oh, don't give me that, Harmony! You're the one who made all my friends turn against me when I started dating Xander!"
"He was a total Loser!" Harmony shot back. "Made the rest of us look bad by association."
Cordelia returned Harmony's cold glare. "As if you needed anything to help you look bad. Xander might've been a Loser, but he was better than the whole lot of you empty-headed bimbos! And besides...he saved my life!"
"Empty-headed?" Harmony echoed, apparently not having heard anything else that Cordelia had said. "I-I'm just as smart as any other bimbo!" With a huff and a toss of her blonde hair, Harmony turned and slammed the door behind her.
Cordelia lay quietly, staring at the closed door. She wasn't sure whether to be terrified or disgusted. She couldn't believe that she'd allowed herself to be captured by what was in her estimate the dumbest girl that had ever walked the halls of Sunnydale High--and now was probably the dumbest vampire ever to walk the earth.
Still, Cordelia's fear mounted, coupled by an extraordinary sense of despair. No one knew where she was. She'd walked away from her friends and burned all her bridges behind her. She yanked uselessly at her shackles for a few moments, before giving up.
She checked her watch. It was almost 6:00 a.m. Sunrise was a few minutes away. And because it was late January, sunset would come at around 5:30 p.m. She had less than twelve hours left to live.
Cordelia felt a lone tear fall out of the corner of her eye and splash into her ear. She was on her own.
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Bludhaven: the Corporate Offices of MediTech
Records Vault
[Friday 0600hrs EST]
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"Dick!" Barbara's voice sounded suddenly tense. "I detect a large group of people headed your way." Dick immediately started searching for a hiding place.
"How many?" he asked.
"Ten...no twelve...thirteen--Oh, what does it matter?" Barbara cried. "Move your tush, Stud Wonder!"
"No place to move--" Dick began, and stopped. He listened against the door, the heavy sound of pounding boots running past and fading down the hallway. Letting out a breath of relief, he whispered, "Babs? I think they're gone--"
The next instant, a loud, staccato siren broke out, coupled with a soft, gentle voice that warned, "Code Red...Security Breach, Section 9...! Code Red...Security Breach, Section 9...! Code Red...Security Breach, Section 9...!
Dick didn't wait to see if the boots would return to the vault. He grabbed his glasses and tucked the manila file inside his lab coat. Carefully checking to see if the area immediately outside the vault was clear, he slipped out the door. As he turned the corner, he spotted a large group of frightened men and women in a headlong mad dash towards the emergency exit.
"Hurry! It's loose!"
"We'll all be killed!"
"I always said this was a bad idea!"
"Oughta my way!"
"I quit! Y'hear? I quit!"
I've got a very bad feeling, Dick mused. He jogged a few paces forward stopping at the next corner. Looking around carefully, he saw an empty corridor, littered with hastily discarded papers, pens, and other office debris.
The only activity was that of a bright, flashing red light, while the gentle drone over the intercom continued to warn, "Code Red in Section 9...!"
Dick paused.
At the far end of the hallway, he spotted a set of sliding glass doors that led into a darkened corridor beyond. Above the doors, a large sign in bold red letters told him that the terrified scientists had come from that direction.
Section 9
Special Projects Unit
Authorized Personnel Only!
Centered on each glass door was the international sign of a nuclear, chemical, and biological hazard. Before he proceeded he had to ensure that there weren't any hidden traps or dangers immediately on the other side of the doors. Pressing the hidden button on his eyeglass frames, he ran a biochemical analysis of the area.
There didn't seem to be anything amiss. No obvious dangers at any rate, he amended. Taking a quick look around, he saw that the doors were secured with a card-swipe lock system. Shrugging, Dick took out a palm-sized Tazer from his back pocket and quickly shorted the lock. As he did, he heard a distinct ~click~ from the door.
Smiling, Dick pressed both hands against the 'glass' doors and paused. That's interesting, he mused, noting that the doors were not actually made of glass. Pausing to run another scan, he noted that instead, they were made of a very dense metal alloy--transparent titanium mixed with lead and another unidentified element.
"Funny...?" he murmured. Whatever the unidentified material in the alloy was, it seemed to be giving off some kind of low-grade radiation. Slightly cocking his head in puzzlement, he noticed a greenish tint when the light hit the glass at just a certain angle. Running a second scan of the doors, he checked for danger to humans, but found none. "Babs, I think I've spotted something," he reported. "I need you to analyze--"
A sudden crash, followed by a loud explosion was the only warning he got.
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Los Angeles: Angel Investigations
[Friday 0630hrs EST //Friday 0330hrs PST//]
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"We've no choice!" Angel's intense glare cut off any further argument from Wesley and Gunn. "I want you two to catch the first available flight to Bludhaven."
"But--!" Wesley began.
"No buts!" Angel retorted sharply. "These stealth demons are more than just Lilah's means to advance at Wolfram and Hart." He held out the antique wooden box that had been sitting on Lilah's shelf earlier, locking eyes with Wesley.
"Someone's trying to gain a toehold in the federal government--maybe even the White House--" He paused, opening the box and pulling out a rolled, yellowed parchment. "Once they do--" He handed the parchment to Wesley. "--their influence could spread around the world!"
Wesley looked up from the parchment, his eyes wide. "Th-This is Braxta's controlling spell--! Where did you get it? The last copy was supposed to have been lost in a fire over 600 years--!"
"Not this one." Angel glared out from underneath hooded eyes. "I've made a copy for myself. I want you to take this one. And memorize it." His eyes flitted momentarily to Gunn. "The both of you."
Gunn glanced at the parchment and made a face. "Man, you've got to be kidding!" he said, pointing at the odd lettering. "How am I supposed to read...that? What language is it anyway?"
"Sumerian!" Angel and Wesley said simultaneously.
"Of course," Gunn muttered, shrugging and shaking his head. "What else could it be?"
"Wesley will translate it and help you learn it," Angel assured him, and Wesley nodded in agreement.
"I can hardly wait!" Gunn grumbled.
"Good," Angel said, ignoring Gunn's sarcasm. "When you get to Bludhaven, find the demons and kill them. Before they can possess anyone else."
"And what about you?" Gunn demanded. "What're you gonna be doing?"
"Yes, Angel," Wesley asked quietly. "You're surely not planning on sitting this one out? And what about Cordelia? Aren't we even going to try to look for her?"
"Don't worry," Angel said quietly. "I'm not sitting anything out. And don't worry about Cordelia. She's a big girl and can take care of herself." Turning, he began descending the ornate staircase leading to his quarters. "Or so she keeps telling us," he muttered. Pausing, he looked up from the lower landing.
"As for you two--!" His voice echoed eerily up the marble stairs. "Did I just mention something about you catching the first flight out?" Wesley and Gunn exchanged rueful glances.
"Well, yeah, but--?" Gunn began.
"--Then why are you still here?" Suddenly, Angel was standing between them, making both men jump. Angel's dark, brooding looks were even more menacing than usual.
"W-We're on our way!" Wesley stuttered, beating a hasty retreat--backwards!
"Yeah, man! We're outta here!" Gunn said, following close behind. Catching up to the heroic (if at times nervous) Englishman, Gunn muttered in passing, "I hate it when he does that--!" Yanking the door open, he added. "Creeps me out, man!"
"Quite!" Wesley agreed, trailing him out of the building.
As soon as his friends were gone, Angel went to Cordelia's desk and started going through the drawers. While she had taken all of her personal effects, she'd conscientiously left everything else in neat order.
In case we ever decide to replace her, I suppose. Angel searched for and finally found the LA phone directory. As if we ever could. Quickly scanning the Yellow Pages, he quirked an eyebrow in faint surprise when he actually found a listing for the party he wanted. Shrugging, he dialed. The phone on the other end was picked up on the first ring.
A bright, perky voice spoke, "Titans West! Flamebird speaking. How may I help you?"
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Gotham City: Clock Tower
[Friday 0630hrs EST]
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"Dick!" Barbara cried worriedly. "Dick, come in!" She listened intently into her headset. She'd lost contact almost thirty minutes ago when a sudden infusion of white noise abruptly knocked out Dick's signal. This was a safety measure she'd built into her audio pick-up to avoid a possible overload.
What happened? she asked herself. That loud noise! It sounded like an--
"Explosion." Dick! He was all right!
His voice came in slightly broken, and Barbara quickly made some rapid adjustments to her instrumentation. As she worked, she let out a sigh of relief. At least he's still alive! She waited for Dick to explain further, but his succinct response seemed to be all the explanation she was going to get.
"Dick?" Barbara's voice sounded tentative. "Are you all ri--?"
"I'm fine...Just a little singed--"
"--Singed? What do you--?"
"--And it's Nightwing, now."
"Dick, what's going on?" she asked, ignoring him. At that moment, her video uplink indicated that she was receiving a video feed from Nightwing. Quickly activating it, she immediately began looking out through the Starlite lenses built into Nightwing's mask.
"Not sure. But I intend to find out." Nightwing headed towards a set of glass doors that led into a corridor designated as 'Section 9: Special Projects Unit.' "The explosion came from there," he added, indicating the Section 9 corridor.
"Look, I need you to run a check on--"
"--Isn't that where the earlier security breach occurred?" Barbara interrupted, the tension between her shoulder blades increasing.
"Yes it is," Nightwing replied. "But as I was saying, I need you to--"
At that moment, Barbara's monitor beeped, indicating that another call was coming in.
"Nightwing, I've got an incoming call. I'm putting you on temp hold."
"Story of my life," he muttered. Barbara made a face, but turned to the new caller. Checking her security system, she first ensured that whoever the caller was he'd only receive her 'Oracle' icon over his two-way monitor. Next she checked the call's origin.
A single raised eyebrow was the only sign of her surprise.
"This is Oracle. How may I help Titans West?"
"...?"
Barbara smiled. Callers--especially the superhero kind--hated it when she did that.
"Um...uh...this is um, Flamebird?" the Titan's voice rose at the end as if she were asking a question. "I...um, was told that...um, you could contact Nightwing?" Flamebird's voice again rose at the end, showing her unexpected nervousness. Oracle had that effect on a lot of people. Heroes, too.
"What do you need?" Barbara asked. "Nightwing's a little busy at the moment."
"Oh, well...a friend of his asked our help in contacting him? I'm only passing a message?" Flamebird's nervous questioning tone was beginning to wear thin.
"Who's the friend?" Oracle asked, becoming impatient.
"Angel--no last name. Says Nightwing knows him, but that he needed help in contacting him--?"
"Yes. We know Angel. Did he leave a number where he could be reached?"
"Yes, he did," Flamebird said, suddenly all business. "He said he could be reached at Angel Investigations. The number is--"
"--I know the number. Thank you." Barbara cut the transmission.
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Lost Angeles: Titans West
[Friday 0635hrs EST //Friday 0335hrs PST//]
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Flamebird stared at the dead phone, her expression warring between surprise and peevishness.
"Well--! You're welcome, I'm sure!" Insulted, she slammed the phone down. Placing her chin in hand, she pouted prettily. Titans West gets no respect, she grumbled.
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End of Part 7