Look out for a very special ending for the end of this chapter…
Sydney paced back and forth down the narrow aisle of the bus, pausing every so often to glance at Will's inert form. Finally, she glared at Achilles.
"That is cruel and unusual," she said slowly.
"Mostly just unusual," Vaughn added.
"It may not be unusual for him," Sark stated.
"What?" Weiss wondered aloud.
"Well, do you know what he does in his free time? Neither do I," Sark mentioned. Everyone's gaze swiveled to Will, who finally stirred slightly.
"No way!" Sydney stated certainly. Sark just raised an eyebrow.
"Whatever you say," he murmured.
"Are you trying to tell us something?" Weiss asked. Sark whistled innocently, sending everyone into fits of coughing laughter. He glared at all of them.
"We need to get moving if we want to get to… our destination on time," Irina said once the laughter had subsided.
"Our destination?" Jack questioned.
"Yes," Irina replied quickly.
"Why don't you refer to it by its proper name?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
"Because… the hawk and the dove share equal space in the sky, but earwax does nothing for sandals." Everyone stared at Irina in stunned confusion, thus accomplishing her goal of making them all forget Jack's question.
"Now, let's get our disguises on and get moving!" she said cheerily. They all moved off the bus, with Achilles disappearing into the dark night- because really, how goofy would it be for the night in Las Vegas to be anti-dark? It was like that in Amsterdam and all those other European places though, still bright until seriously 10 PM. It was weird. But anyway, let's move on with the story, shall we?
Sydney had finally succeeded in waking Will up.
"Are you ok?" she asked. He was still pale as a ghost, or maybe a sheet.
"Please, Syd, tell me I was dreaming?" She shook her head.
"Nope. You're a showgir… uh, showboy." Will shut his eyes tightly, and Sydney momentarily wondered if he had passed out again.
"Do I have to?" he whined.
"Yup, 'fraid so." He sighed in resignation.
"For how long?"
"No idea." He sighed again.
"Fine. Let me go get changed…" he mumbled. While he did that, Sydney herself changed- more like undressed, because as a stripper, how much clothing did she really have to put on? Not much, I'd bet.
So anyway.
Vaughn was the first to reappear, nearly giggling in delight at Sydney's disguise, until he recalled what he himself was wearing.
"Syd… what kind of gladiator wears armor that only covers his neck? And really, I'm practically wearing a skirt. And a short one to boot. There's just something wrong with that."
"Not in my book," Sydney said quietly.
"What?" Vaughn asked.
"Oh… I just said, uh… yeah. Totally." Vaughn frowned.
"That's not what it sounded like to me…" Sydney shrugged, and Vaughn frowned again.
"You know Syd, maybe I'm just paranoid… but lately, it seems like there's just some kind of crazy conspiracy to keep me without a shirt…" he trailed off thoughtfully, and so didn't notice as Syd glanced surreptitiously off screen.
"He's caught on! Does this mean we have to kill him?" she whispered.
"No… I don't think I'm allowed to kill anyone this time," a mysterious voice replied. Sydney sighed in relief.
"But, I could be wrong. It's been known to happen on occasion. I'll look into it and get back to you next chapter." Sydney nodded.
"Thanks. I hope he doesn't have to die…" she turned back to see Vaughn giving her a strange look, and bit her lip nervously.
"Um, Syd…"
"Yes Vaughn?"
"Question for you…"
"Ok…"
"Do these sandals make my feet look too wide?" Sydney released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
"No, not at all! I love them!" Vaughn frowned.
"Are you sure?"
"Here, see for yourself…" she reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a full length mirror, which she set up in the aisle. Vaughn took a long look at himself before frowning again.
"I dunno Syd… this 'armor' leaves my back and chest completely bare, and this… skirt-" the word was said with more than a hint of derision- "barely covers to my knees. I think I need the next size up, or something."
"Or something," Sydney replied.
"What?"
"Nothing. It looks fine. Sit down." Vaughn looked with apprehension at the leathery armor skirt- now now people, get those minds out of the gutter- before sighing yet again.
"Sit down? In this?" Sydney nodded enthusiastically, grinning as Vaughn tried to coordinate his efforts.
"I never realized how difficult skirts were…" Sydney had to tear her eyes away from Vaughn as she heard someone else returning. It turned out to be a frowning Sark.
"Now, do correct me if I'm wrong, but don't angels generally wear shirts along with their wings and halos?" He raised an eyebrow suspiciously.
"You mean… the disguise didn't come with a shirt?" Sydney asked innocently. Sark shook his head.
"No… just those obnoxious white pants, these fluffy white wings, and that shiny golden halo…" Sark's eyes turned upwards, and he
See. Told you it was special.