Part 7
Wesley entered the hotel, just as Angel and Lorne returned. He ran to greet them, holding
up the book in his hands.
"What is it?" Angel asked seeing Wesley's face. Cordelia had been missing now for almost 9 hours. The new day was well into its routine, the sun up and shining, and still no lead on where Cordelia was.
Wesley stopped in his tracks, the group gathering around him. "I think I may have an idea about what happened. A few years ago, I started reading quite a few philosophical texts and one thing always intrigued me about them. Most of them theorized that, since everything is made up of atoms and particles and such, then theoretically they don't exist in the solid state that we perceive them. Some philosophers even go so far as to say that, with enough practice one could possibly move through these objects as if they didn't exist. It's quite intriguing none the less."
Angel stared at him. "Alright, so you're saying that a philosopher took Cordy?"
"Perhaps not a philosopher, but a person that practices this."
Angel shook his head. "Do you know of any?"
"Well as far as I know, no one has ever done anything like this. It's all theory and conjecture really." Wesley shook his head.
"Okay," Gunn spoke up. "Let's say that there is a guy out there that can walk through stuff, who is he, and why would he take Cordy? I mean, what's she got that would be interesting? Well, other than the visions."
Angel thought for a second. "Maybe they didn't take her, for her." He looked up at the group, a thought suddenly entering his head. "Wesley, Gunn, you're with me. I need a ride." He walked towards the weapons cabinet, grabbing a few swords, and Wesley's adze.
Wesley and Gunn followed him.
"Alright, man. Where we going?" Gunn asked, taking a sword.
"We're going to pay our friendly neighborhood lawyers a visit." Angel glared, running his finger across the blade of his sword. A small drop of blood appeared and he sucked it off. "Let's go see Lilah."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Oh my God! Doyle," Cordelia cried out, running over and embracing her long lost friend. "How did you, what did you?"
Doyle embraced her and smiled down into her eyes.
"Oh, Doyle, I missed you," she said, resting her head on his chest.
"I missed you too, Cordy," he replied.
Suddenly, Cordelia backed up, slightly, looking up into his eyes. "Wait, something's wrong here," she said.
"What is it?" Doyle asked.
Cordelia bit her lip, trying to figure out what she was feeling. Her eyes lit up and she gasped, backing away as she remembered Doyle's death. He was dead. How was he here in front of her?
"Cordy?" The fake Doyle asked.
"You're not real. You're dead. Doyle is dead!" She backed up against the desk.
"You're right. He is. You killed him." The UnDoyle said.
"No, I didn't. He sacrificed himself." Cordelia replied, tears threatening to spill over her lashes.
"Sure, but it was because of you," The UnDoyle said, morphing into another man. The
Russian. She remembered now, or she thought she did.
Cordelia shook her head. "You can't break me."
"You've already been broken." He replied, his voice the antithesis of Doyle's. "I was
going to inject you again, so you would forget this. But I think it would be more fun for you to sit here and contemplate all the ways that your friend's death was your fault. Sounds like a good time, no?"
Tears fell over her lashes, giving up their fight, and a sob bubbled up from her.
"What do you want with me?" She asked.
"Nothing, I want nothing from you. You mean nothing to me. You mean nothing to anyone." He said.
He turned and walked through the wall, a stunt Cordelia would have been surprised by, if she wasn't too caught up in her own thoughts, and more importantly, her own sorrow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The coffee slid down her throat, momentarily burning, but then soothing. She felt it seep in her veins and breathed a sigh of relief. The meeting with the Senior Partners had gone well; it had been a success even. They were happy with the way things were running, and well, she wasn't on their hit list at the moment, so life was good. She had just heard from Smilnov, Cordelia had finally cracked. He said she was sobbing. Good, torture, hopefully Angel was feeling the same way. One could hope.
Hope apparently was too much though, as her door banged open, and the devil himself walked in. Okay, not the devil, but Angel. Potato, Potahto.
"Where is she?" He growled, taking her mug from her hands and throwing it across the room.
There went her coffee. Was she a bad person to be more concerned that her favorite mug was now lying in pieces on her remarkably expensive carpet than on the fact that Angel seemed to be at the end of his rope? Probably so, but hey, where was the fun in caring?
"Who are you talking about? Who have you lost now, Angel?" She held her hand up, stopping the security guards that had entered behind him. It was more fun seeing him like this, than seeing him thrown out of the building. Though, hey, it was the day and he would go poof, but then…he'd be gone. Torturing him was much more fun with him here.
"You know who I'm talking about," he replied, sidestepping her. He moved over to her book shelf, thumbing over the titles. Coming across one, he pulled it from the stack.
"Nothing is as it seems,' Interesting title," he remarked, opening it up. An inscription was written on the front cover. It was signed by the author. "Fyodor Sergei Smilnov. Philosopher?" Angel looked up at Lilah.
"I enjoy his philosophy theories. They are quite interesting, I think you'd even think so,"
Lilah smiled, bending over to pick up the broken pieces of her mug.
"Oh, probably so, especially if his theories have anything about moving through solid objects," he snarled, moving over to her.
She straightened. Had he finally caught on? Granted, she had been hoping he wouldn't, but she knew he was smart. Though she had thought it wouldn't have taken so long. Perhaps he was feeling a little off his game. Maybe taking Cordelia from him had thrown him off a bit. Interesting.
"I'm going to ask this one more time, and I better hear a straight answer, otherwise, you won't need to pick up the broken mug. The pieces will be stuck in you," his voice dropped an octave.
Okay, Lilah usually didn't get scared. Come on, she had made a deal with the devil, the real one. But at this moment, the way Angel was glaring at her, well she felt a little frightened. She straightened, looking him dead in the eye. Blinking, she walked over to her desk. Opening a drawer she took out a small remote control. Pointing it at the far wall, she clicked the 'on' button. The wall started moving, opening to reveal a large television set, and on it, a sobbing Cordelia.
TBC in Part 8
Wesley entered the hotel, just as Angel and Lorne returned. He ran to greet them, holding
up the book in his hands.
"What is it?" Angel asked seeing Wesley's face. Cordelia had been missing now for almost 9 hours. The new day was well into its routine, the sun up and shining, and still no lead on where Cordelia was.
Wesley stopped in his tracks, the group gathering around him. "I think I may have an idea about what happened. A few years ago, I started reading quite a few philosophical texts and one thing always intrigued me about them. Most of them theorized that, since everything is made up of atoms and particles and such, then theoretically they don't exist in the solid state that we perceive them. Some philosophers even go so far as to say that, with enough practice one could possibly move through these objects as if they didn't exist. It's quite intriguing none the less."
Angel stared at him. "Alright, so you're saying that a philosopher took Cordy?"
"Perhaps not a philosopher, but a person that practices this."
Angel shook his head. "Do you know of any?"
"Well as far as I know, no one has ever done anything like this. It's all theory and conjecture really." Wesley shook his head.
"Okay," Gunn spoke up. "Let's say that there is a guy out there that can walk through stuff, who is he, and why would he take Cordy? I mean, what's she got that would be interesting? Well, other than the visions."
Angel thought for a second. "Maybe they didn't take her, for her." He looked up at the group, a thought suddenly entering his head. "Wesley, Gunn, you're with me. I need a ride." He walked towards the weapons cabinet, grabbing a few swords, and Wesley's adze.
Wesley and Gunn followed him.
"Alright, man. Where we going?" Gunn asked, taking a sword.
"We're going to pay our friendly neighborhood lawyers a visit." Angel glared, running his finger across the blade of his sword. A small drop of blood appeared and he sucked it off. "Let's go see Lilah."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Oh my God! Doyle," Cordelia cried out, running over and embracing her long lost friend. "How did you, what did you?"
Doyle embraced her and smiled down into her eyes.
"Oh, Doyle, I missed you," she said, resting her head on his chest.
"I missed you too, Cordy," he replied.
Suddenly, Cordelia backed up, slightly, looking up into his eyes. "Wait, something's wrong here," she said.
"What is it?" Doyle asked.
Cordelia bit her lip, trying to figure out what she was feeling. Her eyes lit up and she gasped, backing away as she remembered Doyle's death. He was dead. How was he here in front of her?
"Cordy?" The fake Doyle asked.
"You're not real. You're dead. Doyle is dead!" She backed up against the desk.
"You're right. He is. You killed him." The UnDoyle said.
"No, I didn't. He sacrificed himself." Cordelia replied, tears threatening to spill over her lashes.
"Sure, but it was because of you," The UnDoyle said, morphing into another man. The
Russian. She remembered now, or she thought she did.
Cordelia shook her head. "You can't break me."
"You've already been broken." He replied, his voice the antithesis of Doyle's. "I was
going to inject you again, so you would forget this. But I think it would be more fun for you to sit here and contemplate all the ways that your friend's death was your fault. Sounds like a good time, no?"
Tears fell over her lashes, giving up their fight, and a sob bubbled up from her.
"What do you want with me?" She asked.
"Nothing, I want nothing from you. You mean nothing to me. You mean nothing to anyone." He said.
He turned and walked through the wall, a stunt Cordelia would have been surprised by, if she wasn't too caught up in her own thoughts, and more importantly, her own sorrow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The coffee slid down her throat, momentarily burning, but then soothing. She felt it seep in her veins and breathed a sigh of relief. The meeting with the Senior Partners had gone well; it had been a success even. They were happy with the way things were running, and well, she wasn't on their hit list at the moment, so life was good. She had just heard from Smilnov, Cordelia had finally cracked. He said she was sobbing. Good, torture, hopefully Angel was feeling the same way. One could hope.
Hope apparently was too much though, as her door banged open, and the devil himself walked in. Okay, not the devil, but Angel. Potato, Potahto.
"Where is she?" He growled, taking her mug from her hands and throwing it across the room.
There went her coffee. Was she a bad person to be more concerned that her favorite mug was now lying in pieces on her remarkably expensive carpet than on the fact that Angel seemed to be at the end of his rope? Probably so, but hey, where was the fun in caring?
"Who are you talking about? Who have you lost now, Angel?" She held her hand up, stopping the security guards that had entered behind him. It was more fun seeing him like this, than seeing him thrown out of the building. Though, hey, it was the day and he would go poof, but then…he'd be gone. Torturing him was much more fun with him here.
"You know who I'm talking about," he replied, sidestepping her. He moved over to her book shelf, thumbing over the titles. Coming across one, he pulled it from the stack.
"Nothing is as it seems,' Interesting title," he remarked, opening it up. An inscription was written on the front cover. It was signed by the author. "Fyodor Sergei Smilnov. Philosopher?" Angel looked up at Lilah.
"I enjoy his philosophy theories. They are quite interesting, I think you'd even think so,"
Lilah smiled, bending over to pick up the broken pieces of her mug.
"Oh, probably so, especially if his theories have anything about moving through solid objects," he snarled, moving over to her.
She straightened. Had he finally caught on? Granted, she had been hoping he wouldn't, but she knew he was smart. Though she had thought it wouldn't have taken so long. Perhaps he was feeling a little off his game. Maybe taking Cordelia from him had thrown him off a bit. Interesting.
"I'm going to ask this one more time, and I better hear a straight answer, otherwise, you won't need to pick up the broken mug. The pieces will be stuck in you," his voice dropped an octave.
Okay, Lilah usually didn't get scared. Come on, she had made a deal with the devil, the real one. But at this moment, the way Angel was glaring at her, well she felt a little frightened. She straightened, looking him dead in the eye. Blinking, she walked over to her desk. Opening a drawer she took out a small remote control. Pointing it at the far wall, she clicked the 'on' button. The wall started moving, opening to reveal a large television set, and on it, a sobbing Cordelia.
TBC in Part 8