A/N: This is a long chapter, mostly because of the songs in it. Sorry, I
couldn't resist putting a little rock in. This chapter sorta sucks, I'm
really just tying up loose ends with this.
Charlie, Anthony, Dylan, and Morgana slowly explained everything again, for Natalie's benefit.
"Which brings us to our next assignment," said Charlie, "The Ciafatelli Family were the archrivals of the O'Grady Clan. While Seamus O'Grady's death was undoubtedly a blessing-" Anthony made a strange noise in his throat "-It has enabled the Ciafatellis to take a much stronger hold than they had before."
"The murders," whispered Natalie.
"Exactly," Charlie continued, "Police suspect that a string of murders happening in the city's business district are connected."
"So who do we kill?" asked Morgana, almost hungrily.
"No one, at this point," said Charlie, and the screen on the wall faded to show a handsome Italian man with rather oiled black hair and olive skin, "This is Michael Ciafatelli. He's the heir to the Ciafatelli empire. If anyone knows what's happening, he does."
"So we take him out," said Morgana.
"Stake him out would be more appropriate," muttered Natalie.
"Michael spends Friday nights at the Bluesrock Bandstand. We're going to check on him."
Everyone shifted anxiously in their seats; they were waiting for their roles in the stakeout.
"Bosley," listed Charlie, "You'll be working as a bartender. Natalie will be a waitress." Natalie rolled her eyes, she was always a waitress.
"Alex, you'll be acting as a bouncer. Should you find a member of the Ciafatelli gang, toss them out and notify Dylan and Anthony. They'll know what to do. They will be acting simply as patrons, but it may be a good idea for you two to stick together."
Alex smirked and nudged Dylan, who shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "Morgana," Charlie rounded off, "You'll be singing."
Her jaw dropped. "What?" she said.
"At the Bluesrock," he said, "You'll be singing."
Dylan thought she saw Anthony smirk at Morgana, but she shot him a warning look. "I can't sing," she said, "Especially not blues rock." "Liar," whispered Anthony in singsong. She elbowed him.
"Dylan, Morgana," said Charlie, "I would like you two to go down to the Bluesrock now and arrange for tonight."
Morgana looked reluctant. She didn't want to leave Anthony so soon, and she could tell Dylan felt the same. "Could Anthony come?" Dylan asked, childlike.
Charlie chuckled. "All right. It might be healthy for you three to talk together."
"Thanks, Charlie," Dylan and Morgana said in unison. They stood and walked out, Anthony with one woman on each arm.
Parked in front of the agency was a recently waxed, black XJ12. "Is that your car?" asked Dylan, almost in awe.
"Actually," said Morgana, whisking the keys out of her brother's pocket, "It's mine." He raised his eyebrows sardonically. "Back seat," she mouthed, and got in.
"Could you guys explain something?" asked Dylan when they were on their way, "Why are you talking all of a sudden?" "I only talk to people I trust," Anthony explained, "I trusted Morgana, of course. And then I trusted you. So, I trust who you trust."
Dylan nodded, then asked, "Does anyone know where this club is, anyway?" Morgana nodded. "I've been there dozens of times," she said. Dylan was puzzled, but she didn't press further.
That night at nine, they were in Bosley's Navigator outside the Bluesrock's back door. Bosley and Natalie were dressed at typical wait staff. Alex was all in black leather with a short wig on. She had a fake nose ring to make her look tougher. Anthony and Morgana were in their signature pinstripes. Dylan was dressed in classy casual, .
Natalie opened a silver briefcase and started to pass out molar mics. "We can keep in touch the whole time," she said, "Stick it on your back molar." She handed Alex an extra one. "You'll need to wait and get yours after you're finished singing," she told Morgana, "Otherwise the feedback will mess the transmission up."
Morgana nodded. "I still don't see why I have to sing," she grumbled, "I really can't." Anthony eyed her skeptically. "Okay," said Natalie, "Bosley and I'll go in first. Then Anthony and Dylan, then Morgana, then Alex."
Everyone entered the club in the right order, and when Alex was stationed at the back door, Morgana sauntered onstage. She spoke for a minute with a man who looked like he was the lead guitarist, who in turn talked to the band. Dylan smiled. "She knows how to talk with a house band," she told Anthony, who was sitting across from her. He nodded, "She was really selling herself short back there," he said.
The intro started, and Dylan recognized it immediately. "Oh my gosh," she said quietly, smirking and nodding. "What?" he asked. "Led Zeppelin," she said simply.
And it was. Morgana really had sold herself short. Alex's jaw dropped and Bosley stopped pouring the gin he was holding. For when the dark lady assassin opened her mouth, a voice made for blues rock came out, a voice like Heart, Wynona, and Led Zeppelin combined. She looked bad, she looked tough, and had the club in awe as she brayed;
"It's been a long time since I rock and rolled.
It's been a lone time since I did the stroll.
Let me get back, let me get back,
Let me get back, baby, where I come from.
It's been a long time, been a long time,
Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.
Yes it has!"
The crowd whooped. Natalie caught sight of a greasy haired Italian to her left. "Alex, check your ten," she said.
Alex did. "It's not him, his nose was bigger." Dylan laughed.
Back onstage, Morgana was belting,
"It's been a long time since the book of love,
I can't count the tears of a life with no love.
Carry me back, carry me back,
Carry me back, baby, where I come from.
It's been a long time, been a long time,
Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.
Ooh yeah, ooh yeah.
Ooh yeah, ooh yeah.
Ooh yeah, ooh yeah.
Ooh yeah, ooh yeah,
It's been a long time, been a long time,
Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time."
"She's incredible," Dylan told Anthony during the guitar solo. He welled with pride. "I taught her everything she knows," he said, "Except for the singing. She did that on her own."
"I wonder where she got it from."
"Our father," he said, "He was a baritone and a very good singer."
Morgana took a deep breath and prepared herself for the final push;
"Seems so long since we walked in the moonlight,
Making vows that just can't work right.
Open your arms, open your arms,
Open your arms, baby, let my love come running in.
It's been a long time, been a long time,
Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.
Been a long time, been a long time,
Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely...lonely time."
The club exploded in applause. The Italian man was whistling wildly. People were screaming, "Encore, encore!" Morgana shot a smug glance over at Natalie, who had just dropped the Belini she was carrying to the Italian's table in the uproar.
Morgana looked at the guitarist, who nodded. "Okay," she called, and the roar ceased, "Okay, I'll do one more. Any requests? You, over there in the beige. Your name?"
"Michael," said the Italian, "Michael Ciafatelli."
"I was right," whispered Natalie.
"Something you want to hear, Michael?" Morgana asked.
"Planet Caravan," he said. Morgana smirked again. "Keep it in the written key," she told the band.
The less-known Black Sabbath song was much slower and smoother than her last song. As she started to sing, Dylan and Anthony stood up and walked toward the back door. "I'll wait a minute, then toss him," Alex whispered as she let them out."
Onstage, Morgana was crooning silkily;
"We sail through endless skies,
Stars shine like eyes,
The black night sighs.
The moon in silver trees
Falls down in tears,
Light of the night.
The earth, a purple blaze
Of sapphire haze,
In orbit always."
Alex came up behind Ciafatelli and tapped him on the shoulder. "One too many," she said, grabbing him by the cuff and dragging him to the back door. He let loose a string of curses as he found himself in the alley behind the club, with a red-haired woman and a man in a pinstriped suit standing in front of him, arms crossed.
"While down below the trees,
Bathed in cool breeze,
Silver starlight
Breaks down the night.
And so we pass on by
The crimson eye
Of great God mars
As we travel the universe."
"Want to do one more?" the lead guitarist asked Morgana. She shrugged. "I'll pick," he said, and started with a drum solo she recognized, and that Dylan heard in the alley.
She shook her head. "Oh, my word," she laughed, "Ozzy?"
Anthony raised an eyebrow. "Oh, right," she said, kicking out suddenly and pining Ciafatelli to the door, her boot on his neck. "Really subtle," Anthony mouthed.
Alex was shaking her head at Natalie, who was glaring at Bosley, who was staring, captivated at the woman onstage. Morgana had resumed her sarcastic, flippant air and was playing the lyrics of the song thrown at her for all they were worth;
"Over the mountain take me across the sky
Something in my vision, something deep inside
Where did I wander, where d'ya think I wandered to
I've seen life's magic astral plane I travel through
I heard them tell me that this land of dreams was now
I told them I had ridden shooting stars
And I said I'd show them how."
Out back, Ciafatelli was trying to curse. "We'll let you down," said Dylan, "If you tell us a few things." He nodded. She kept her word, but in order to discourage him from running, Anthony drew his sword from his cane.
"Why the murders?" Dylan asked.
"Look," said Michael, "You got the wrong guy. We just do what we're told."
Dylan cocked her head. "Listen," Michael relaxed a bit, "What a lot of people don't know is that the Ciafatellis work for other gangs. We ain't our own operation, if you know what I'm saying. Back when we was split with the O'Gradys we was working for the Diablo Cartel."
"Who are you working for now?"
"Seamus O'Grady."
"Over and over always tried to get away
Living in a daydream only place I had to stay
Fever of a breakout burning in me miles wide
People around me talking to the walls inside
I heard them tell me that this land of dreams was now
I told them I had ridden shooting stars
And I said I'd show them how."
"Seamus O'Grady is dead," Dylan said.
Michael shook his head, "Look, I'm just working for him. We're supposed to take out Charlie's Angels and a couple of assassins, that's all I know."
"Don't need no astrology; it's inside of you and me
You don't need a ticket to fly with me--I'm free.
Over and under in between the ups and downs
Mind on a carpet magic ride goes round and round
Over the mountain kissing silver inlaid clouds
Watching my body disappear into the crowd
Don't need no astrology it's inside of you and me
You don't need a ticket to fly with me--I'm free."
Sweaty and drained, Morgana stepped off on the stage to further applause. Natalie just glowered at her as she stepped toward the back door. As she stepped out, she saw Ciafatelli walking away and a shaking Dylan being pulled tenderly into her brother's arms.
"What happened?" Morgana asked.
"Seamus O'Grady," Dylan panted, "He's alive."
Morgana's eyes narrowed and her lip curled. "Damn it," she said to Anthony, "I knew we should have checked." "We'll check this time," he said.
"Yeah," growled Morgana, "And please allow me the pleasure of cutting off his balls as a test."
"Why would you want to cut O'Grady's testicles?" Natalie asked. The other three had heard Dylan's news.
Morgana turned around with a dull look on her face. "Aside from the fact that he ran a sword in between my brother's spinal chord and left lung? Hmm, I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"
"Morgana!" scolded Anthony.
"What do we do now?" asked Alex.
"We take him out," said Morgana.
"Is that your answer to everything?" snapped Natalie.
"Problem?" chimed Morgana dryly.
"Maybe."
"Guys!" called Bosley, "Come on. This is serious. Who's he after?"
"Me," said Dylan, "Again." She buried her face in Anthony's shoulder. Natalie moved to apt her back but Morgana beat her to it. "It's okay," she nearly whispered, "I know what you're feeling." Somehow, it was more believable for Dylan to hear it from her rather than Natalie, mostly because Morgana really had almost lost someone to Seamus. Dylan knew at this point that Anthony didn't really matter to the other angels.
"You shouldn't be alone tonight, Dylan," said Natalie instead.
"I'll stay with her," said Anthony. "Would you?" Dylan looked up at him, relieved. He nodded and held her to him again.
"I'll drop you off," said Bosley. Without another word, the group climbed into the Lincoln.
Natalie couldn't help but glare jealously at Morgana, who was helping comfort Dylan. Alex repeatedly jabbed her in the ribs as a signal to lighten up.
Up on the rooftop of the Bluesrock Bandstand, a hunched-over figure was watching them drive away. "Well, well, Helen," said a thick Irish accent, "Ya still got that arse on ya, then?"
Charlie, Anthony, Dylan, and Morgana slowly explained everything again, for Natalie's benefit.
"Which brings us to our next assignment," said Charlie, "The Ciafatelli Family were the archrivals of the O'Grady Clan. While Seamus O'Grady's death was undoubtedly a blessing-" Anthony made a strange noise in his throat "-It has enabled the Ciafatellis to take a much stronger hold than they had before."
"The murders," whispered Natalie.
"Exactly," Charlie continued, "Police suspect that a string of murders happening in the city's business district are connected."
"So who do we kill?" asked Morgana, almost hungrily.
"No one, at this point," said Charlie, and the screen on the wall faded to show a handsome Italian man with rather oiled black hair and olive skin, "This is Michael Ciafatelli. He's the heir to the Ciafatelli empire. If anyone knows what's happening, he does."
"So we take him out," said Morgana.
"Stake him out would be more appropriate," muttered Natalie.
"Michael spends Friday nights at the Bluesrock Bandstand. We're going to check on him."
Everyone shifted anxiously in their seats; they were waiting for their roles in the stakeout.
"Bosley," listed Charlie, "You'll be working as a bartender. Natalie will be a waitress." Natalie rolled her eyes, she was always a waitress.
"Alex, you'll be acting as a bouncer. Should you find a member of the Ciafatelli gang, toss them out and notify Dylan and Anthony. They'll know what to do. They will be acting simply as patrons, but it may be a good idea for you two to stick together."
Alex smirked and nudged Dylan, who shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "Morgana," Charlie rounded off, "You'll be singing."
Her jaw dropped. "What?" she said.
"At the Bluesrock," he said, "You'll be singing."
Dylan thought she saw Anthony smirk at Morgana, but she shot him a warning look. "I can't sing," she said, "Especially not blues rock." "Liar," whispered Anthony in singsong. She elbowed him.
"Dylan, Morgana," said Charlie, "I would like you two to go down to the Bluesrock now and arrange for tonight."
Morgana looked reluctant. She didn't want to leave Anthony so soon, and she could tell Dylan felt the same. "Could Anthony come?" Dylan asked, childlike.
Charlie chuckled. "All right. It might be healthy for you three to talk together."
"Thanks, Charlie," Dylan and Morgana said in unison. They stood and walked out, Anthony with one woman on each arm.
Parked in front of the agency was a recently waxed, black XJ12. "Is that your car?" asked Dylan, almost in awe.
"Actually," said Morgana, whisking the keys out of her brother's pocket, "It's mine." He raised his eyebrows sardonically. "Back seat," she mouthed, and got in.
"Could you guys explain something?" asked Dylan when they were on their way, "Why are you talking all of a sudden?" "I only talk to people I trust," Anthony explained, "I trusted Morgana, of course. And then I trusted you. So, I trust who you trust."
Dylan nodded, then asked, "Does anyone know where this club is, anyway?" Morgana nodded. "I've been there dozens of times," she said. Dylan was puzzled, but she didn't press further.
That night at nine, they were in Bosley's Navigator outside the Bluesrock's back door. Bosley and Natalie were dressed at typical wait staff. Alex was all in black leather with a short wig on. She had a fake nose ring to make her look tougher. Anthony and Morgana were in their signature pinstripes. Dylan was dressed in classy casual, .
Natalie opened a silver briefcase and started to pass out molar mics. "We can keep in touch the whole time," she said, "Stick it on your back molar." She handed Alex an extra one. "You'll need to wait and get yours after you're finished singing," she told Morgana, "Otherwise the feedback will mess the transmission up."
Morgana nodded. "I still don't see why I have to sing," she grumbled, "I really can't." Anthony eyed her skeptically. "Okay," said Natalie, "Bosley and I'll go in first. Then Anthony and Dylan, then Morgana, then Alex."
Everyone entered the club in the right order, and when Alex was stationed at the back door, Morgana sauntered onstage. She spoke for a minute with a man who looked like he was the lead guitarist, who in turn talked to the band. Dylan smiled. "She knows how to talk with a house band," she told Anthony, who was sitting across from her. He nodded, "She was really selling herself short back there," he said.
The intro started, and Dylan recognized it immediately. "Oh my gosh," she said quietly, smirking and nodding. "What?" he asked. "Led Zeppelin," she said simply.
And it was. Morgana really had sold herself short. Alex's jaw dropped and Bosley stopped pouring the gin he was holding. For when the dark lady assassin opened her mouth, a voice made for blues rock came out, a voice like Heart, Wynona, and Led Zeppelin combined. She looked bad, she looked tough, and had the club in awe as she brayed;
"It's been a long time since I rock and rolled.
It's been a lone time since I did the stroll.
Let me get back, let me get back,
Let me get back, baby, where I come from.
It's been a long time, been a long time,
Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.
Yes it has!"
The crowd whooped. Natalie caught sight of a greasy haired Italian to her left. "Alex, check your ten," she said.
Alex did. "It's not him, his nose was bigger." Dylan laughed.
Back onstage, Morgana was belting,
"It's been a long time since the book of love,
I can't count the tears of a life with no love.
Carry me back, carry me back,
Carry me back, baby, where I come from.
It's been a long time, been a long time,
Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.
Ooh yeah, ooh yeah.
Ooh yeah, ooh yeah.
Ooh yeah, ooh yeah.
Ooh yeah, ooh yeah,
It's been a long time, been a long time,
Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time."
"She's incredible," Dylan told Anthony during the guitar solo. He welled with pride. "I taught her everything she knows," he said, "Except for the singing. She did that on her own."
"I wonder where she got it from."
"Our father," he said, "He was a baritone and a very good singer."
Morgana took a deep breath and prepared herself for the final push;
"Seems so long since we walked in the moonlight,
Making vows that just can't work right.
Open your arms, open your arms,
Open your arms, baby, let my love come running in.
It's been a long time, been a long time,
Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.
Been a long time, been a long time,
Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely...lonely time."
The club exploded in applause. The Italian man was whistling wildly. People were screaming, "Encore, encore!" Morgana shot a smug glance over at Natalie, who had just dropped the Belini she was carrying to the Italian's table in the uproar.
Morgana looked at the guitarist, who nodded. "Okay," she called, and the roar ceased, "Okay, I'll do one more. Any requests? You, over there in the beige. Your name?"
"Michael," said the Italian, "Michael Ciafatelli."
"I was right," whispered Natalie.
"Something you want to hear, Michael?" Morgana asked.
"Planet Caravan," he said. Morgana smirked again. "Keep it in the written key," she told the band.
The less-known Black Sabbath song was much slower and smoother than her last song. As she started to sing, Dylan and Anthony stood up and walked toward the back door. "I'll wait a minute, then toss him," Alex whispered as she let them out."
Onstage, Morgana was crooning silkily;
"We sail through endless skies,
Stars shine like eyes,
The black night sighs.
The moon in silver trees
Falls down in tears,
Light of the night.
The earth, a purple blaze
Of sapphire haze,
In orbit always."
Alex came up behind Ciafatelli and tapped him on the shoulder. "One too many," she said, grabbing him by the cuff and dragging him to the back door. He let loose a string of curses as he found himself in the alley behind the club, with a red-haired woman and a man in a pinstriped suit standing in front of him, arms crossed.
"While down below the trees,
Bathed in cool breeze,
Silver starlight
Breaks down the night.
And so we pass on by
The crimson eye
Of great God mars
As we travel the universe."
"Want to do one more?" the lead guitarist asked Morgana. She shrugged. "I'll pick," he said, and started with a drum solo she recognized, and that Dylan heard in the alley.
She shook her head. "Oh, my word," she laughed, "Ozzy?"
Anthony raised an eyebrow. "Oh, right," she said, kicking out suddenly and pining Ciafatelli to the door, her boot on his neck. "Really subtle," Anthony mouthed.
Alex was shaking her head at Natalie, who was glaring at Bosley, who was staring, captivated at the woman onstage. Morgana had resumed her sarcastic, flippant air and was playing the lyrics of the song thrown at her for all they were worth;
"Over the mountain take me across the sky
Something in my vision, something deep inside
Where did I wander, where d'ya think I wandered to
I've seen life's magic astral plane I travel through
I heard them tell me that this land of dreams was now
I told them I had ridden shooting stars
And I said I'd show them how."
Out back, Ciafatelli was trying to curse. "We'll let you down," said Dylan, "If you tell us a few things." He nodded. She kept her word, but in order to discourage him from running, Anthony drew his sword from his cane.
"Why the murders?" Dylan asked.
"Look," said Michael, "You got the wrong guy. We just do what we're told."
Dylan cocked her head. "Listen," Michael relaxed a bit, "What a lot of people don't know is that the Ciafatellis work for other gangs. We ain't our own operation, if you know what I'm saying. Back when we was split with the O'Gradys we was working for the Diablo Cartel."
"Who are you working for now?"
"Seamus O'Grady."
"Over and over always tried to get away
Living in a daydream only place I had to stay
Fever of a breakout burning in me miles wide
People around me talking to the walls inside
I heard them tell me that this land of dreams was now
I told them I had ridden shooting stars
And I said I'd show them how."
"Seamus O'Grady is dead," Dylan said.
Michael shook his head, "Look, I'm just working for him. We're supposed to take out Charlie's Angels and a couple of assassins, that's all I know."
"Don't need no astrology; it's inside of you and me
You don't need a ticket to fly with me--I'm free.
Over and under in between the ups and downs
Mind on a carpet magic ride goes round and round
Over the mountain kissing silver inlaid clouds
Watching my body disappear into the crowd
Don't need no astrology it's inside of you and me
You don't need a ticket to fly with me--I'm free."
Sweaty and drained, Morgana stepped off on the stage to further applause. Natalie just glowered at her as she stepped toward the back door. As she stepped out, she saw Ciafatelli walking away and a shaking Dylan being pulled tenderly into her brother's arms.
"What happened?" Morgana asked.
"Seamus O'Grady," Dylan panted, "He's alive."
Morgana's eyes narrowed and her lip curled. "Damn it," she said to Anthony, "I knew we should have checked." "We'll check this time," he said.
"Yeah," growled Morgana, "And please allow me the pleasure of cutting off his balls as a test."
"Why would you want to cut O'Grady's testicles?" Natalie asked. The other three had heard Dylan's news.
Morgana turned around with a dull look on her face. "Aside from the fact that he ran a sword in between my brother's spinal chord and left lung? Hmm, I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"
"Morgana!" scolded Anthony.
"What do we do now?" asked Alex.
"We take him out," said Morgana.
"Is that your answer to everything?" snapped Natalie.
"Problem?" chimed Morgana dryly.
"Maybe."
"Guys!" called Bosley, "Come on. This is serious. Who's he after?"
"Me," said Dylan, "Again." She buried her face in Anthony's shoulder. Natalie moved to apt her back but Morgana beat her to it. "It's okay," she nearly whispered, "I know what you're feeling." Somehow, it was more believable for Dylan to hear it from her rather than Natalie, mostly because Morgana really had almost lost someone to Seamus. Dylan knew at this point that Anthony didn't really matter to the other angels.
"You shouldn't be alone tonight, Dylan," said Natalie instead.
"I'll stay with her," said Anthony. "Would you?" Dylan looked up at him, relieved. He nodded and held her to him again.
"I'll drop you off," said Bosley. Without another word, the group climbed into the Lincoln.
Natalie couldn't help but glare jealously at Morgana, who was helping comfort Dylan. Alex repeatedly jabbed her in the ribs as a signal to lighten up.
Up on the rooftop of the Bluesrock Bandstand, a hunched-over figure was watching them drive away. "Well, well, Helen," said a thick Irish accent, "Ya still got that arse on ya, then?"