Disclaimer : ** [Default Chapter] Page **
Rating : R
* * *
TITLE : Y451
BY: FLAMEIMMORTAL
CHAPTERS EIGHT-TEN
* * *
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ari sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and pulling on a black high- heeled shoe. She stood up and tested her weight on the shoes, wishing she'd had a broken in pair with her. New shoes weren't the most comfortable things in the world, especially not heels.
"Are you almost ready?" she called, using a small compact mirror to check her makeup. She did look a show tonight, she mused.
Ari looked down at herself, dressed in a low cut black top with silky see- through lace sleeves, a slim crimson red and black skirt that fell just below her knees and slit up the side almost to the top of her hip. Fishnets adorned her long, tanned legs.
"I've been waiting on you," Xander replied, walking out of the bathroom and shrugging into a leather jacket that looked like it had seen more than its fair share of punishment. "Party's in a hour," he said, glancing at the table where the small cellular phone still lay. "Gibbons is taking his time for once."
"Xander," Ari said impatiently, arms crossed over her chest.
"What?" he asked, turning to look at her.
She smiled as his eyes widened considerably. "Well, what do you think?" Ari questioned, turning in a quick circle for his viewing pleasure.
"Damn," he said, nodding appreciatively.
"Glad you like it," she returned, winking at him.
He shook his head and reached for the cell phone just as it let out a low- pitched beep. "Perfect timing, Gibs," he said absently, flipping it open deftly to reveal a small set of keys and a miniature color LCD display.
"I thought that was a cell phone!" Ari exclaimed, surprised to see Gibbons' face staring out at them.
"Turn on the television," Gibbons instructed. "Channel twelve."
Frowning at the odd command, Ari walked over the old TV set and flicked it on, turning the dusty dial to the right until the number 12 was at the top.
The television popped to life with a newscaster and red bar lining the bottom of the screen. LIVE - CHANNEL 12 NEWS was written in capital letters in the corner of the screen with the name Eric Martin along side. Martin, the newscaster, was standing in front of what appeared to be (or have formerly been) some kind of hotel.
Xander raised his eyebrows and Ari just shrugged, watching as Martin started speaking in barely-concealed-panicky voice.
"Just twenty minutes ago," Martin was saying. "This AmeriSuites Inn exploded in a fiery mass of destruction. Firefighters and police are still working to put out the flames. The explosion occurred in a fourth floor room. So far, only two bodies have been found though neither of these have been identified. Several others suffered minor injuries, but there are no further known fatalities."
"Gibbons. . ." Ari began softly, slowly turning her head away from the television. "What was the name of the hotel we were supposed to have gone to?"
"You're looking at it," Xander answered for him. "Damnit, Scarface."
"I knew you'd take the initiative to get yourself a. . . better place," Gibbons said, looking back at them seriously.
"Fuck," Ari swore, sucking in a quick breath. "Who. . . was killed in that explosion?"
"Nobody was killed," Gibbons explained. "The NSA has agents working out there now, disguised as police, etc. But this way whoever planted the explosion is satisfied that you're dead."
"Who else knew we were supposed to be there? They knew the room number, floor number. . ." Xander said.
"Supposedly only the three of us, and Hernandez and Agent Collins."
"Are you sure this line is safe?" Ari asked, turning the TV off with disgust. "I mean, by the looks of this, you're leak isn't on Schaffer's end. Unless you've got a whole hell of a lot more to worry about that you thought."
"We have considered that, Agent Versailles," Gibbons answered.
"Considered?" Xander echoed the words, staring at the tiny screen incredulously.
"This line is perfectly secure," Gibbons assured them. "Shouldn't you be getting ready to leave?"
"Wait a minute," Xander interrupted. "What the fuck aren't you telling us, Gibbons?" he demanded.
"Just do your job, Triple X. We'll take care of the rest. Once again, you're going in there for information. Just all the other agents we sent into the Base. Give me the coordinates of your location," Gibbons instructed, waiting for one of them to continue.
"Fuck you, Scarface," Xander muttered under his breath. "We'll figure out what the hell is going on. But first we need to know everything on the home front. If we go in there without knowing all the facts, our chances of survival aren't worth shit."
"Just give me your location," Gibbons repeated.
Xander looked at the device for a minute, then glanced back to meet Ari's unwavering emerald gaze. Ari shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest and taking a deep breath.
"We'll call you," Xander said, closing the small, computerized device in his hand. "Let's go."
* * *
Gibbons stared at the computer monitor sitting on the desk before him, frowned, and sat back in his chair, hands laid over each other in his lap. He looked sideways at Hernandez, who stood up against the wall, his own hands draped into the pockets of his suit pants.
"That might be the last we hear from them, Gibbons," Hernandez said slowly, blowing air through his lips and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb.
Gibbons just nodded, reaching up to turn off the monitor, showing only muted static now. "Xander's smart enough for this. Versailles is new but she can handle herself."
"You didn't tell them nobody else checked in with us after they came into contact with Schaffer. . . did you?" Hernandez asked, eyes narrowed slightly as the realization finally became fact in his mind. More than just a speculation. "He was right, you know. Going in there without all the information they need. It could get them killed."
"The only information we have is what we've managed to get from Ileitha MacPherson," Gibbons responded after a beat, looking up at Hernandez with a serious expression.
"She hasn't told us shit, Gibbons," Hernandez said pointedly. "And you know it."
"We might have to cut her loose."
"You can't do that," Hernandez countered quickly. "Not with the possibility of her seeing them. . ."
"She's never seen them before," Gibbons replied, pursing his lips for moment. "MacPherson has no reason to recognize any of them now. We made sure that it would work out that way from the beginning. My superiors are starting to ask a lot of questions. We can't hold her and sate their curiosity at the same time. We just have to hope that they can anticipate that action. They will deal with it."
"Or get killed," Hernandez said. "If there were any other way to do this. . ."
"Then it would be done that way. This is too touchy, Hernandez. You and me, that's all they've got right now," Gibbons continued.
"What about Collins?" Hernandez questioned.
Gibbons took a breath, pausing before answering the simple question. "Collins has been spending a lot of time with Mark Douglas, hasn't he?"
Hernandez nodded, already knowing exactly what Gibbons was getting at. "You never paid much mind to your 'superiors' before, Gibs."
"I never had to," Gibbons replied, giving a short laugh. "My. . . 'superiors' are just figureheads, you know that. All they do is pass the bill and take the credit when things go in their favor. When things go sour. . . They don't have a fucking clue what's going on. Must be the foreign policy guys."
"Normally that would be funny," Hernandez commented, shaking his head in wry amusement. "But something tells me Xander Cage is not going to be a happy camper for very long."
"He'll deal," Gibbons said. "You know he can handle this, Hernandez."
"I'm not doubting his ability to deal with the situation, Gibs," Hernandez assured him, running his tongue along the side of his mouth as a nervous habit. "This is one fucked up job, Gibs, I gotta tell ya."
"How's that, Hernandez?"
"She's green as hell and he's out of his fucking mind right now," Hernandez laughed ironically. "We have no way of following their progress without getting nailed from upstairs, not to mention the fact that we haven't got a goddamn clue whose fucking us over at every turn."
"That's how we play the game," Gibbons returned, shrugging once. Just a small motion that displayed a lot more than would ever be said about the anxiety felt.
"Fuck, Gibbons," Hernandez muttered with a windy sigh. "What now?"
"Now we start playing hardball on the home front," Gibbons replied. "Now it's time to play."
CHAPTER NINE
"Right here, this is the place," Xander said smoothly, sitting up in the back of the cab.
The driver pulled over to the curb and then glanced back at them. "You come to this part of the city in the middle of the night?" the driver laughed. "There is nothing here, not even night clubs. I don't know what you're looking to find."
"Don't worry about us, we'll be just fine," Ari returned, pushing the door open as Xander dropped a small roll of bills into the driver's extended palm.
The drive raised his hands in submission. "Hey, I don't give a fuck where you go," he answered. "Long as I get my pay."
"You've been paid, now get out of here," Ari said, closing the door. She swore under her breath as the cab pulled away.
"What's the matter, don't like cabs?" Xander joked, following her down the sidewalk.
"As a matter of fact," Ariana answered. "I don't." She paused when he raised his eyebrows. "I grew up in farm country. We didn't have cabs."
"Yeah, you had cows, right?"
"That's not funny, Xander," Ari said, shooting him a look that would have spelt death in any other circumstance.
"Hey, relax," Xander countered, laughing. "I don't own any cabs."
"Shut the fuck up, X," Ari returned, smiling in spite of herself. "So how do we get into this place? What did he say in that damned. . ." she murmured to herself. "Warehouse?"
"1603 Crescent Avenue in the warehouse district."
"Abandoned warehouse district," Ari corrected, looking around. "There it is." She pointed straight ahead of them. "Looks kinda dead, though."
"Somehow I suspect most people invited to this part don't come in like we're going to," Xander replied, wrapping one arm around her waist and kissing her cheek. He leaned in close to her, lips pressed against the back of her neck as they neared the warehouse. "If we get separated," he whispered. "Just remember we're hear to find shit about Schaffer. If you can get close to him, do it. And keep the drug front going."
She giggled for show and smiled, leaning into his embrace. "Watch your ass," she mouthed, looking up into his eyes.
* * *
"Who are they?"
A lone man sat in a short, black faded leather desk chair, staring out several computer displays, a keyboard resting in his lap. He wore a pair of black denim jeans, ripped at the knees and a white tank top t-shirt. Long, red hair was pulled into a short ponytail at the back of his head.
The man, startled at the suddenness of the new voice, jumped visibly.
"Jesus, what the fuck!" he exclaimed, swiveling the chair around to look at the source of the voice. "Oh, shit, Cole. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, man."
"I asked you a question, Alex."
"All right, all right," Alex replied, shaking his head. "Have a look at screen three, Mr. Schaffer," he instructed calmly, leaning back in his chair with his sneaker-clad feet sitting on top of the console. A large screen to the right of the monitors illuminated to show what played on one of the monitors.
The screen displayed the inside entrance to the Base from inside the warehouse. Two people, a man and a woman were currently 'discussing' their admittance to the heavy hitter placed at the entrance.
"I don't know who they are, but I'd sure like to get a piece of that ass," Alex said, staring at the close up on the screen.
"Look them up in the database."
"You want to go through FBI or something?" Alex questioned mockingly, fingers already tapping away at the keyboard. "Hmm. . ."
"What have you found?"
"Nothing really. Girl don't have any criminal records, not a cop either," Alex said, almost speaking to himself as the computers displays fed through his mind in a series of nearly undecipherable numbers and letters and codes.
"There's nothing on them but a DMV record on her. Ariana Versailles. . ." he read the name aloud. "She's clean."
"What about him?" Schaffer questioned, still watching the screen. The two seemed to be making little or no headway with the guard. Well, that was what the man was paid for. Otherwise he'd be dead.
"Well-hell. . . He's a different story altogether," Alex said. "Xander Cage. Fuck, I've even heard of him."
"From where?"
"Fuckin' action sports guy. Crazy as shit, if you asked me. But he's pulled some awesome stunts. Nobody's heard much from him for the last though. Nothing big. But he hasn't made any jail time either. No way he's a cop, not after the shit he's pulled before."
"Glad to know you're a fan," Schaffer commented. "Tell the guard to let them in. I wouldn't mind talking to them myself."
"You don't think their any more of those agents, do you? I mean, hell, they don't look like any of the other guys that have been sent in here. And what's his face didn't give you anybody's profile that looked like them. Besides. . . didn't you already fuck up those two guys in the AmeriSuites hotel?"
"That's already been taken care of, yes," Schaffer answered. "We'll see. They don't look like agents, but one never can be too careful. Even those who are not working for the government can be just as nasty. One tends to make his fair share of enemies in this line of work, after all, Alex."
Alex nodded. "Tell me about it. I seen some serious shit around here, Cole." He paused, picking up a slim little microphone from the console and speaking into it. "Let 'em through, Larry. They're clean."
Schaffer turned his attention back to the computer screen, watching as the guard, Larry, stepped aside and let the two through the single doorway that led down the stairs. Down the stairs and into a whole other world.
"Keep things running up here, Alex," Schaffer said quickly, turning on his heel. "Tell Larry to go ahead and close the doors for good tonight. We don't need any more unexpected company. But you never know, these two may prove. . . useful anyway."
* * *
"I don't like this, Xander," Ari said quietly through clenched teeth as they walked down a long flight of stairs. The stone steps spiraled downward, lit only with candles in small carved alcoves.
"At least we're in now," Xander answered, glancing around at their surroundings. "It's like something out a fucking horror movie."
"Don't say that."
* * *
"Well, this is a party, isn't it?" Ari said softly, staring out at the crowd of people. The lights were dimmed low, fluorescent colors spilling out over the undulating bodies in the center of the floor. A band played something distinctly heavy metal on the far side of the room, electric guitars blaring undecipherable words through stacks of speakers. Behind them, a magnificent display of pyrotechnics was shooting sparks in all directions. The noise so loud that one could hardly themselves think.
"Let's get a drink," she said, running a hand casually through her short hair, smiling at one of the patrons seductively as they passed by. She picked up her partner's hand and led him toward the bar, still looking out for Schaffer or anybody else that seemed important.
Xander leaned up against the bar as Ari took a seat, ordering them both a drink. In moments, the bartender slid her two glasses across the counter. They slid to a stop just in front of them, and Ari lifted hers to her lips and took a small sip before taking in her companion's distant appearance. "Are you all right?" she questioned, concern edging her voice as she set her glass back on the counter with a small clink of ice.
He didn't answer her for a short span, thinking on how similar this place was to another. . . The people, the music. Only one thing missing this time.
"Yeah," he replied, picking up his own drink. "Keep your eyes open," he said, looking down at her. "I'm gonna take a quick look around this place." He pushed away from the bar easily, leaving his glass half emptied on the counter.
Ari watched him disappear into the crowd, pursing her lips.
* * *
TO BE CONTINUED. . .
7/25/03
Author's Notes: All right, two chapters this time and. . . "I *am* still alive!" I know it's been absolutely forever on the updates but I've been busy this summer and these have actually been nearly ready for some time now, just never quite. . . completed. But, anyway, here they are.
Read and Review!
Thanks,
-FlameImmortal-
Rating : R
* * *
TITLE : Y451
BY: FLAMEIMMORTAL
CHAPTERS EIGHT-TEN
* * *
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ari sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and pulling on a black high- heeled shoe. She stood up and tested her weight on the shoes, wishing she'd had a broken in pair with her. New shoes weren't the most comfortable things in the world, especially not heels.
"Are you almost ready?" she called, using a small compact mirror to check her makeup. She did look a show tonight, she mused.
Ari looked down at herself, dressed in a low cut black top with silky see- through lace sleeves, a slim crimson red and black skirt that fell just below her knees and slit up the side almost to the top of her hip. Fishnets adorned her long, tanned legs.
"I've been waiting on you," Xander replied, walking out of the bathroom and shrugging into a leather jacket that looked like it had seen more than its fair share of punishment. "Party's in a hour," he said, glancing at the table where the small cellular phone still lay. "Gibbons is taking his time for once."
"Xander," Ari said impatiently, arms crossed over her chest.
"What?" he asked, turning to look at her.
She smiled as his eyes widened considerably. "Well, what do you think?" Ari questioned, turning in a quick circle for his viewing pleasure.
"Damn," he said, nodding appreciatively.
"Glad you like it," she returned, winking at him.
He shook his head and reached for the cell phone just as it let out a low- pitched beep. "Perfect timing, Gibs," he said absently, flipping it open deftly to reveal a small set of keys and a miniature color LCD display.
"I thought that was a cell phone!" Ari exclaimed, surprised to see Gibbons' face staring out at them.
"Turn on the television," Gibbons instructed. "Channel twelve."
Frowning at the odd command, Ari walked over the old TV set and flicked it on, turning the dusty dial to the right until the number 12 was at the top.
The television popped to life with a newscaster and red bar lining the bottom of the screen. LIVE - CHANNEL 12 NEWS was written in capital letters in the corner of the screen with the name Eric Martin along side. Martin, the newscaster, was standing in front of what appeared to be (or have formerly been) some kind of hotel.
Xander raised his eyebrows and Ari just shrugged, watching as Martin started speaking in barely-concealed-panicky voice.
"Just twenty minutes ago," Martin was saying. "This AmeriSuites Inn exploded in a fiery mass of destruction. Firefighters and police are still working to put out the flames. The explosion occurred in a fourth floor room. So far, only two bodies have been found though neither of these have been identified. Several others suffered minor injuries, but there are no further known fatalities."
"Gibbons. . ." Ari began softly, slowly turning her head away from the television. "What was the name of the hotel we were supposed to have gone to?"
"You're looking at it," Xander answered for him. "Damnit, Scarface."
"I knew you'd take the initiative to get yourself a. . . better place," Gibbons said, looking back at them seriously.
"Fuck," Ari swore, sucking in a quick breath. "Who. . . was killed in that explosion?"
"Nobody was killed," Gibbons explained. "The NSA has agents working out there now, disguised as police, etc. But this way whoever planted the explosion is satisfied that you're dead."
"Who else knew we were supposed to be there? They knew the room number, floor number. . ." Xander said.
"Supposedly only the three of us, and Hernandez and Agent Collins."
"Are you sure this line is safe?" Ari asked, turning the TV off with disgust. "I mean, by the looks of this, you're leak isn't on Schaffer's end. Unless you've got a whole hell of a lot more to worry about that you thought."
"We have considered that, Agent Versailles," Gibbons answered.
"Considered?" Xander echoed the words, staring at the tiny screen incredulously.
"This line is perfectly secure," Gibbons assured them. "Shouldn't you be getting ready to leave?"
"Wait a minute," Xander interrupted. "What the fuck aren't you telling us, Gibbons?" he demanded.
"Just do your job, Triple X. We'll take care of the rest. Once again, you're going in there for information. Just all the other agents we sent into the Base. Give me the coordinates of your location," Gibbons instructed, waiting for one of them to continue.
"Fuck you, Scarface," Xander muttered under his breath. "We'll figure out what the hell is going on. But first we need to know everything on the home front. If we go in there without knowing all the facts, our chances of survival aren't worth shit."
"Just give me your location," Gibbons repeated.
Xander looked at the device for a minute, then glanced back to meet Ari's unwavering emerald gaze. Ari shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest and taking a deep breath.
"We'll call you," Xander said, closing the small, computerized device in his hand. "Let's go."
* * *
Gibbons stared at the computer monitor sitting on the desk before him, frowned, and sat back in his chair, hands laid over each other in his lap. He looked sideways at Hernandez, who stood up against the wall, his own hands draped into the pockets of his suit pants.
"That might be the last we hear from them, Gibbons," Hernandez said slowly, blowing air through his lips and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb.
Gibbons just nodded, reaching up to turn off the monitor, showing only muted static now. "Xander's smart enough for this. Versailles is new but she can handle herself."
"You didn't tell them nobody else checked in with us after they came into contact with Schaffer. . . did you?" Hernandez asked, eyes narrowed slightly as the realization finally became fact in his mind. More than just a speculation. "He was right, you know. Going in there without all the information they need. It could get them killed."
"The only information we have is what we've managed to get from Ileitha MacPherson," Gibbons responded after a beat, looking up at Hernandez with a serious expression.
"She hasn't told us shit, Gibbons," Hernandez said pointedly. "And you know it."
"We might have to cut her loose."
"You can't do that," Hernandez countered quickly. "Not with the possibility of her seeing them. . ."
"She's never seen them before," Gibbons replied, pursing his lips for moment. "MacPherson has no reason to recognize any of them now. We made sure that it would work out that way from the beginning. My superiors are starting to ask a lot of questions. We can't hold her and sate their curiosity at the same time. We just have to hope that they can anticipate that action. They will deal with it."
"Or get killed," Hernandez said. "If there were any other way to do this. . ."
"Then it would be done that way. This is too touchy, Hernandez. You and me, that's all they've got right now," Gibbons continued.
"What about Collins?" Hernandez questioned.
Gibbons took a breath, pausing before answering the simple question. "Collins has been spending a lot of time with Mark Douglas, hasn't he?"
Hernandez nodded, already knowing exactly what Gibbons was getting at. "You never paid much mind to your 'superiors' before, Gibs."
"I never had to," Gibbons replied, giving a short laugh. "My. . . 'superiors' are just figureheads, you know that. All they do is pass the bill and take the credit when things go in their favor. When things go sour. . . They don't have a fucking clue what's going on. Must be the foreign policy guys."
"Normally that would be funny," Hernandez commented, shaking his head in wry amusement. "But something tells me Xander Cage is not going to be a happy camper for very long."
"He'll deal," Gibbons said. "You know he can handle this, Hernandez."
"I'm not doubting his ability to deal with the situation, Gibs," Hernandez assured him, running his tongue along the side of his mouth as a nervous habit. "This is one fucked up job, Gibs, I gotta tell ya."
"How's that, Hernandez?"
"She's green as hell and he's out of his fucking mind right now," Hernandez laughed ironically. "We have no way of following their progress without getting nailed from upstairs, not to mention the fact that we haven't got a goddamn clue whose fucking us over at every turn."
"That's how we play the game," Gibbons returned, shrugging once. Just a small motion that displayed a lot more than would ever be said about the anxiety felt.
"Fuck, Gibbons," Hernandez muttered with a windy sigh. "What now?"
"Now we start playing hardball on the home front," Gibbons replied. "Now it's time to play."
CHAPTER NINE
"Right here, this is the place," Xander said smoothly, sitting up in the back of the cab.
The driver pulled over to the curb and then glanced back at them. "You come to this part of the city in the middle of the night?" the driver laughed. "There is nothing here, not even night clubs. I don't know what you're looking to find."
"Don't worry about us, we'll be just fine," Ari returned, pushing the door open as Xander dropped a small roll of bills into the driver's extended palm.
The drive raised his hands in submission. "Hey, I don't give a fuck where you go," he answered. "Long as I get my pay."
"You've been paid, now get out of here," Ari said, closing the door. She swore under her breath as the cab pulled away.
"What's the matter, don't like cabs?" Xander joked, following her down the sidewalk.
"As a matter of fact," Ariana answered. "I don't." She paused when he raised his eyebrows. "I grew up in farm country. We didn't have cabs."
"Yeah, you had cows, right?"
"That's not funny, Xander," Ari said, shooting him a look that would have spelt death in any other circumstance.
"Hey, relax," Xander countered, laughing. "I don't own any cabs."
"Shut the fuck up, X," Ari returned, smiling in spite of herself. "So how do we get into this place? What did he say in that damned. . ." she murmured to herself. "Warehouse?"
"1603 Crescent Avenue in the warehouse district."
"Abandoned warehouse district," Ari corrected, looking around. "There it is." She pointed straight ahead of them. "Looks kinda dead, though."
"Somehow I suspect most people invited to this part don't come in like we're going to," Xander replied, wrapping one arm around her waist and kissing her cheek. He leaned in close to her, lips pressed against the back of her neck as they neared the warehouse. "If we get separated," he whispered. "Just remember we're hear to find shit about Schaffer. If you can get close to him, do it. And keep the drug front going."
She giggled for show and smiled, leaning into his embrace. "Watch your ass," she mouthed, looking up into his eyes.
* * *
"Who are they?"
A lone man sat in a short, black faded leather desk chair, staring out several computer displays, a keyboard resting in his lap. He wore a pair of black denim jeans, ripped at the knees and a white tank top t-shirt. Long, red hair was pulled into a short ponytail at the back of his head.
The man, startled at the suddenness of the new voice, jumped visibly.
"Jesus, what the fuck!" he exclaimed, swiveling the chair around to look at the source of the voice. "Oh, shit, Cole. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, man."
"I asked you a question, Alex."
"All right, all right," Alex replied, shaking his head. "Have a look at screen three, Mr. Schaffer," he instructed calmly, leaning back in his chair with his sneaker-clad feet sitting on top of the console. A large screen to the right of the monitors illuminated to show what played on one of the monitors.
The screen displayed the inside entrance to the Base from inside the warehouse. Two people, a man and a woman were currently 'discussing' their admittance to the heavy hitter placed at the entrance.
"I don't know who they are, but I'd sure like to get a piece of that ass," Alex said, staring at the close up on the screen.
"Look them up in the database."
"You want to go through FBI or something?" Alex questioned mockingly, fingers already tapping away at the keyboard. "Hmm. . ."
"What have you found?"
"Nothing really. Girl don't have any criminal records, not a cop either," Alex said, almost speaking to himself as the computers displays fed through his mind in a series of nearly undecipherable numbers and letters and codes.
"There's nothing on them but a DMV record on her. Ariana Versailles. . ." he read the name aloud. "She's clean."
"What about him?" Schaffer questioned, still watching the screen. The two seemed to be making little or no headway with the guard. Well, that was what the man was paid for. Otherwise he'd be dead.
"Well-hell. . . He's a different story altogether," Alex said. "Xander Cage. Fuck, I've even heard of him."
"From where?"
"Fuckin' action sports guy. Crazy as shit, if you asked me. But he's pulled some awesome stunts. Nobody's heard much from him for the last though. Nothing big. But he hasn't made any jail time either. No way he's a cop, not after the shit he's pulled before."
"Glad to know you're a fan," Schaffer commented. "Tell the guard to let them in. I wouldn't mind talking to them myself."
"You don't think their any more of those agents, do you? I mean, hell, they don't look like any of the other guys that have been sent in here. And what's his face didn't give you anybody's profile that looked like them. Besides. . . didn't you already fuck up those two guys in the AmeriSuites hotel?"
"That's already been taken care of, yes," Schaffer answered. "We'll see. They don't look like agents, but one never can be too careful. Even those who are not working for the government can be just as nasty. One tends to make his fair share of enemies in this line of work, after all, Alex."
Alex nodded. "Tell me about it. I seen some serious shit around here, Cole." He paused, picking up a slim little microphone from the console and speaking into it. "Let 'em through, Larry. They're clean."
Schaffer turned his attention back to the computer screen, watching as the guard, Larry, stepped aside and let the two through the single doorway that led down the stairs. Down the stairs and into a whole other world.
"Keep things running up here, Alex," Schaffer said quickly, turning on his heel. "Tell Larry to go ahead and close the doors for good tonight. We don't need any more unexpected company. But you never know, these two may prove. . . useful anyway."
* * *
"I don't like this, Xander," Ari said quietly through clenched teeth as they walked down a long flight of stairs. The stone steps spiraled downward, lit only with candles in small carved alcoves.
"At least we're in now," Xander answered, glancing around at their surroundings. "It's like something out a fucking horror movie."
"Don't say that."
* * *
"Well, this is a party, isn't it?" Ari said softly, staring out at the crowd of people. The lights were dimmed low, fluorescent colors spilling out over the undulating bodies in the center of the floor. A band played something distinctly heavy metal on the far side of the room, electric guitars blaring undecipherable words through stacks of speakers. Behind them, a magnificent display of pyrotechnics was shooting sparks in all directions. The noise so loud that one could hardly themselves think.
"Let's get a drink," she said, running a hand casually through her short hair, smiling at one of the patrons seductively as they passed by. She picked up her partner's hand and led him toward the bar, still looking out for Schaffer or anybody else that seemed important.
Xander leaned up against the bar as Ari took a seat, ordering them both a drink. In moments, the bartender slid her two glasses across the counter. They slid to a stop just in front of them, and Ari lifted hers to her lips and took a small sip before taking in her companion's distant appearance. "Are you all right?" she questioned, concern edging her voice as she set her glass back on the counter with a small clink of ice.
He didn't answer her for a short span, thinking on how similar this place was to another. . . The people, the music. Only one thing missing this time.
"Yeah," he replied, picking up his own drink. "Keep your eyes open," he said, looking down at her. "I'm gonna take a quick look around this place." He pushed away from the bar easily, leaving his glass half emptied on the counter.
Ari watched him disappear into the crowd, pursing her lips.
* * *
TO BE CONTINUED. . .
7/25/03
Author's Notes: All right, two chapters this time and. . . "I *am* still alive!" I know it's been absolutely forever on the updates but I've been busy this summer and these have actually been nearly ready for some time now, just never quite. . . completed. But, anyway, here they are.
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Thanks,
-FlameImmortal-