OK this is chapter 3. This moves along at a slightly faster pace but for
the start of the story I want to delve into the characters thoughts a bit.
Many thanx' to those who fed back and I would love some more reviews. I
like suggestions and if I got a word mixed up or I'm doing something
drasticly wrong with my grammer do tell.
So enjoy and please review!
CHAPTER 3-Sunrise
That same night.
Lilah rested her head on the back of her black leather office chair, casually staring at the roof and tapping a pen methodically on the edge of her desk. Her LCD screen radiated a sharp white glow to the softly lit office. This was Lilah's common routine during office hours, hear no evil, and speak no evil. For her that meant doing nothing. She noticed subconsciously for the umpteenth time the light greyish colour of her office roof. Her deep slumber of thoughtless time wasting was suddenly interrupted by two, soft yet piercing knocks at the door. Lilah sat up in her chair and flicked the pen on to her desk. She swung her chair around to face the door.
"Come in Gavin," she said tiresomely. He was the only employee at Wolfram and Hart she knew to knock. After you worked there long enough you began to contemplate how many minutes a year you wasted knocking. Wolfram and Hart has people on their toes constantly, you had to be efficient to survive.
Gavin opened the door and entered the office the very split-second Lilah's words escaped her lips. He walked in swiftly; he always did, as though he had some kind of pending agenda that motivated him.
He stopped and stood in the middle of the room, facing Lilah.
"Lilah, something has to be done." He said abruptly.
Lilah leaned back into her relaxed position.
"About what?" She said with a sly grin. She knew exactly where he was going with this but she enjoyed playing with him to no end.
"Don't play with me Lilah."
Lilah's grin widened with wicked pleasure.
".You know exactly what I mean"
She opened her mouth but had no time to speak before he resumed.
"We have been sitting on our asses for the last three days doing nothing, achieving nothing." He continued with a slightly raised tone. "We have to find them."
He paused.
"We have to do something!" He finished, on a slightly panicked note.
He stared at her waiting for a reply. When the seconds passed and none came he slammed both hands down on Lilah's desk, glaring at her. Lilah swung her chair around and stared him right back with a cool grin. After a brief second Lilah spoke, "While you've been sitting on that tender ass of yours I've been working my head off trying to find a solution."
Something about her tone made Gavin doubtful, something cold. His face showed her that he wanted to know more so she continued.
"I have a failsafe plan to lie back on, Gavin and I pity you for being the moron you are."
Gavin took his hands off her desk and stood up, looking down at her with a shocked look on his face.
"What are you playing at Lilah?" He said nervously, trying to keep a straight face.
" I can safely say that as soon as Lynwood returns from his vacation it will be you who will take the blame for the recent inopportune events."
Gavin stepped backwards a look of horror present on his face.
"But.how?" Gavin replied with a terrified stammer present in his voice.
"That's right." Lilah continued menacingly," The weight's on you Gavin and you're gonna carry it for the rest of your pathetic existence, however short that may be." Her voice was one of pure, wicked joy as she saw Gavin staring down at her, horrified out of his skin. 'It's amazing how much terror a law firm can imbue upon people' she mused.
She leaned forwards and gazed wickedly into Gavin's tortured eyes. A few seconds passed as Gavin struggled to contemplate what was happening and what would become of him. "Bye," she said in a sweet mock voice, smiling and doing a cute little waving motion with her hands. Gavin breathed in deeply and gathered the mental energy to reply.
"You're wrong Lilah." He said knowingly, his voice still shaken slightly. He managed a weak smile that was supposed to be cunning and left the office in the same manner he had entered, slamming the door behind him.
But a few seconds of silence followed before she broke out into ecstatic laugh of pleasure. Those last few minutes filled her bloodthirsty heart with enough joy to last a lifetime. Her whole body tingled with an odd kick of satisfaction. The look on Gavin's face really reminded her of what she loved most about her job. After only a few moments she grabbed her pen between two fingers and layed back into the comfort of her chair once again. Only this time she stared out her huge wall-length window, past the tall buildings that conquered the sky and into the vastness of the night. As pathetic as her brief chat with Gavin had been it had given her something to think about.
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Wesley staggered up the seemingly endless set of spiral stairs that led up to his flat. His legs ached, his jaw ached, and almost every muscle in his poor, weary body attacked him with jolts of pain with every slight movement. He conquered the journey step by step, breathing deeply.
The crude graffiti that suffocated almost every inch of the lower most corridors splashed more water onto the fire inside him, the fire that burned so fiercely by the night and smouldered to a weak glimpse of warmth every day. It was like clockwork, everyday for Wesley had been the same since he had departed from the hospital. Everything he did now was different; it's amazing how horror, guilt, anger and remorse can change a person. He had been thrown into a relentless hunt for revenge that repeated day by day, night by night. No, not so much revenge, it was more of a constant sinking sensation that had to be relieved. Killing was the way for him to block out all his thoughts, filling his heart with false happiness that he was helping, doing good. He was addicted like to an all-consuming drug that blinded his growing pain.
His slow, heavy footsteps echoed endlessly down the empty, depressing corridors. The whole place was dark as there were no windows in any of the corridors and the whole place radiated a feeling of loneliness, a fitting place for a man of such self-loathing. His mind was thoughtless as he approached his corridor. He carried a huge axe with him and it felt like it weighed a tonne. He had no doubt he would look suspicious to anyone who should happen to pass by, at least he had made a temporary excuse to his fellow tenants and the owners. They were all under the belief that he collected antiques, he had been pleasantly surprised that the alibi had worked like a dream although he suspected it was probably because his neighbours were all a bunch of low life drunkards who wouldn't give a stuff what he did.
He cut off the stairwell and headed towards the end door of the corridor. He placed his hand into the deep pocket of his long, leather jacket, pulled out the keys and opened the door. He stood in the hall for a moment, looking through his doorway and out the large, front window that took up about half of the wall space in the lounge room. His room, as with the city, glowed a warming orange from the waking sun. The city was waking and a short sharp flicker of pride sprung from the ashes that filled Wesleys heart and mind. It was a sudden flood of good memories and he was suddenly proud of everything he had done and accomplished. However it didn't take long for him to part with the feeling.
He slipped out of his jacket as he passed through the door, throwing it messily onto the arm of the couch and walking through to the bathroom. The bathroom was small, with just enough space for the shower, toilet, sink and he. He flicked on the dim light and gazed at his own solemn, jaded face in the mirror, eye to eye with the mysterious man he hardly knew. His features were all rough and hard, from his poorly kept beard to his hard piercing eyes. His serious stare looked as though it could crack a rock. He avoided his eyes and carefully propped up his axe against the blue-tiled of bathroom wall. He looked back into the mirror and assessed the damage of a night's battle. There was dry blood clearly present between his nose and his top lip but his nose didn't hurt too much so it was ignorable. Apart from that his face looked pretty much fine. He unbuttoned his shirt, noticing the large rip across it's front and hung it over the top of the shower. He cringed when he saw the many shaded regions of purple and green on his chest, accompanied by a large gash that ran diagonally from his left shoulder right to the bottom of his right ribs. He counted himself fortunate that the wound had not been marginally lower, if so it would have ripped open his stomach, then he would have lost his organs to the floor and died within seconds. Dry blood plastered his entire chest in large, hardened rivers and he bit his lip when he saw how much blood he'd lost. Still, he was not mortally wounded and as the gash was fairly shallow it had not caused any internal damage. Wesley began to clench his fists with anger at himself. He was undeniably foolish to raise a single axe to 4 swords and he hated thinking now, in the day, that he was that stupid. Night was his call and he had become almost two different people because of it. He sighed deeply and released his palm ' maybe I just want to die.' He thought, though not really stating on any level of truth. He stared into the mirror once more, gazing as deep as he could into his cruel eyes, trying to assess himself.
Wesley wasn't sure how many minutes had passed before he shook all the thoughts out of his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two small daggers. Their bodies were curved and they told stories of death and blood with so little as an idle glance. He placed them both down beside the taps as carefully as a mother would her child then undressed and started the water for a shower. The hot tapped untouched he stood under the refreshing downpour. The cold water bringing refreshment to his exhausted body. He stared down into the drain intently, immersed in his many thoughts as his body healed its burdens.
He always struggled desperately to fend off the thoughts of Angel that were constantly accumulating within his mind. He had not heard from Angel since his services were called upon to save Fred. But he had heard of Angel from a very untrustworthy source of his, Lilah. She had cracked the news to him with ecstatic joy; Cordy, Conner and Angel were gone. He thought little of it then and there but slowly, when they were not found he grieved the absence.
He wished he could just forget them all and drive off to some unknown world but he knew that the horror Angel had inflicted upon him and the grief he had inflicted on Angel would keep the both of them in LA. It bound them, neither of them willing to forgive and neither of them willing to have revenge. He closed his eyes and watched the blackness, escaping into a world where only the good memories took effect. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------
Fred stared at the ceiling; intrigued by a little game she had made up. Her eyes were wide with curiosity as she eagerly scanned it for systematic variations in the its tone. After about five minutes she threw in the towel and dug her face into the pillow. She felt fortunate that she was not in store for another day of frantic, useless searching. Today she had something else to think about, Lorne was coming back. She almost found herself giggling out loud with excitement. She soon realised it was a cry of relief. Although she loved Gunn she hated to work on such an urgent issue with only one person. It only takes a while for both people to start contradicting each other's every decision and falling into a negative state of mind. She was so relieved that Lorne was returning, partly because it might help having someone like Lorne looking for Angel and partly because she thought two was becoming a crowd for her.
Lorne wasn't particularly smart or strong but she admired the way he helped everyone motivate themselves and she began to feel that a hotel devoid of Lorne is as lonely as an empty warehouse. That demon had soul; that was for certain. He had only to be present to lighten the mood.
She held back fears of having to tell Lorne about the missing persons, though it was very hard. She was extremely nervous that Gunn would have to ruin Lorne's welcome home. All those times she had called she had never got more than two seconds with him either because he had to do something or was about to perform on stage, or both. He certainly sounded very busy over in Las Vegas. She counted herself lucky that she had Gunn to take on the tough job of telling him. That last phone call she made gave them about 5 minutes with each other and she didn't want to tell him then. Lorne told her that he was coming back tomorrow and she said they'd pick him up from the airport at 8.00 at night and after that they just talked about why he was leaving and what he had been doing.
From what she caught from the fast paced phone call he'd been up to a lot. Apparently he'd hit off in Las Vegas and was a real legend. Strangely that was the reason he'd given for returning. She smiled to herself, but then Lorne never really cared for that sought of thing, for wealth and fame. From all the recent tragedy he'd endured in LA last year he probably thought he did but Fred knew he'd be happier in LA. The second destruction of his club all but stole his singing career from him and surprisingly that was probably the saddest thing she's witnessed as a member of Angel Investigations.
To have him back would at least be a start.
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Gavin slid his outstretched finger down the paper he held in his other hand, his eyes glancing back and forward trying to take in all the names and phone numbers on the list as he finger passed them. His eyes suddenly locked on to one of the names and he abruptly stopped his finger there. That was the contact he was up to.
He had been sitting in his office for about two hours now and it hadn't been till the second that he'd ceased staring blindly at the wall, as though he needed to put all his energy into staring so that he could see. It had taken that long for his shame and humiliation to settle and turn into a fierce, motivating anger. As he had stared at the wall fierce and ceaseless thoughts paraded within his mind. He had not lost control; he had stared at the plain, uninteresting wall, unsettled to the brink of panic. The shame of losing to his competitor, Lilah, drowned him in a deep, dark resesion. He knew she was more advanced and experienced at being the cunning employee of the month but he and her had got so competitive he felt all the more worse when he was knocked back. He also knew that he had many stones to uproot and bridges to fell before he had the ruthless approached to life Lilah had acquired. Before he had joined Wolfram and Hart he had thought he was ruthless but now he was the novice. Eventually his dark reflections burnt out and he had taken action. He now had a clear sense of mind and body and a sharp confidence that he would succeed Lilah and climb the wobbly ladder of Wolfram and Hart.
He hadn't considered his sudden plan of action with much effort but it wasn't really a plan worthy of thought. He had printed off a copy of the hallowed Wolfram and Hart dept list. Surprisingly the dept list had nothing to do with money; it was a record of every person who owed Wolfram and Hart a favour. Those who are helped by Wolfram and Hart are either charged money or they are added to the dept list. Which category you fell into depended on what kind of things you could offer as a favour and how many others were on the dept list.
So he picked his phone from the hook for the fortieth time and dialled the number his finger was on. He tapped his fingers impatiently as the phone rang unanswered. He was just about to hang up when a reply came.
"Hello, this is Daniel, what can I do for you?" Daniel answered in an awkwardly cheerful tone.
"My name is Gavin, I'm an attorney for Wolfram and Hart." Gavin replied coolly, he enjoyed ruining people's moods to no end. There was a strange silence of realisation from the other end and he didn't reply for a few seconds.
"What can I do for you Gavin?" He finally replied on a slightly flatter, less cheerful tone.
"Check your e-mail. Open the message entitled 'target'." Gavin waited for the man to affirm he was following.
"And?"
"There is a picture of a boy attached, I want you and everyone you can get to look for him OK. I want a twenty four hour man hunt until he is found and when he is call me."
"Where do I look?"
"Any dark, grimy alleyway should do it."
"But."
"JUST LOOK!" Gavin shouted, cutting off Daniel's wasteful complaint in its tracks and tossing the phone back onto its hook.
Gavin looked out his wall-length window at the warm, rising sun that was warming his room in engulfing sunlight. He swung his chair around and leaned back into it, looking out at the glorious city of LA. He realised then that he would have it no other way, the city consumes you, it becomes a part of your blood and Gavin knew that he would never leave. Whatever happened he would stay to watch it through. He smiled a short, sweet smile and swung back round to his list.
"Lucky 73rd" He muttered to himself as he grabbed the phone again. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------- Wesley strolled briskly out of the bathroom, dropping his tattered, bloodstained shirt into the rubbish bin in the corner of the room on his way to the kitchen. He was half-naked in his jeans, which had fortunately survived the night unscathed. He entered the small, empty kitchen and pulled open the fridge door. He looked into his fridge and grinned when he caught his target at first glance, a six-pack of beer sitting lonesomely in the middle of the middle tray; it was practically the only thing in the fridge. He reached in and pulled snapped one off shutting the fridge door as he turned back into the lounge room.
His chest looked a lot better after that refreshing shower. The blood was all gone and the only inflictions to remain were his many bruises. The bruises really were worse though, as any slight movement of his chest would pain him terribly.
The sun was wide-awake now and well into its glory stage of pure warmth and brightness. The light poured through his window and lit the lounge room brilliantly. He opened the can of beer at sat down on his tatty, orange couch. It was old but he had had it for years and it was a great place to fall back into, the soft, worn cushions consumed you with a sensational comfort. He lay back into it and took a sip of his beer. It tasted like cat's piss, as usual but he was used to it and you could even note he had become quite fond of it. The cheap shit he bought now was a world apart from when he had 4 or so of his favourite champagne lining the inside of the fridge door. He looked over at his TV. It was silhouetted against the bright window. Wesley took another sip of his beer and flicked it on within the couch-side remote. The box made a strange noise and then the visual slowly appeared on the screen. It was a morning news program; slightly interested, he raised the volume.
He watched as the news presenter shuffled some papers and moved along to the next story.
"Last night a series of atrocious crimes woke the usually peaceful neighbourhood of Burkensfield. Neighbours of a young, single mum awoke to screaming and strange noises and decided to call the police. The police who were called on the case claimed a single woman assaulted them. The police were left unconscious in the middle of Fent St. and it wasn't until much later that more police were called in; a man just around the corner of Fent St. called the police on his mobile after he awoke to find two strange men in his house. This case itself was very strange, it appeared that the intruders entered the house through the back wall"
Wesley was sitting up in the couch now watching and listening as best he could, the bit about breaking through a wall had snapped his attention.
Pictures of the broken wall flashed across the screen.
Now he was outright intrigued.
"Mr Arnold claimed that he was woken during the night to find the two intruders fighting in his kitchen. He announced this morning that one of them wore some kind of disfigured mask and that the masked man had attempted to attack him."
Wesley tried to figure out what all this meant as the news reverted to the assaulted police.
".Also had a strange element to it. All three police who were subdued that night claim they had only one, female attacker. Police, later that night put a picture to the policeman's descriptions. A photo was taken from a night surveillance camera from a previous week and all three police recognised her as the attacker. A light, black and white picture appeared on the screen.
Wesley stared hard at it and a thousand thoughts broke into his mind.
"Justine?" He asked himself out loud. It took him but a third of a second to realise that it was Justine and that for the first time in months he had been given a purpose, as small as it may be. He put his beer down onto the floor and sprinted into the bathroom. He hastily scanned the room back and fourth with his eyes, trying to remember where he had put them. He saw their dark, metallic colour against the white sink and ran over to them. He grabbed one with each hand and tucked them safely in the back of his belt. He sprinted into his room and grabbed another beige shirt from his almost depleted wardrobe. He threw the shirt into the air and slipped one arm into the sleeve then following suit with his other. He buttoned his shirt with one hand as he walked swiftly towards the door, scooping up his jacket and throwing his arms into it as he approached the door. He swung the door open and slammed it shut, reaching into his jacket pocket for the keys once again. He locked the door, dropped the keys back into his pocket and began a rapid descent down the stairs.
He knew he didn't really have to rush to this extent but he also knew he would never forgive himself if he missed Justine and lost his only lead to find out what was happening.
The sharp clang of his boots on the steel stairs echoed through the dimly lit corridors with great rapidity. He jumped a couple of steps as often as he could and gripped tightly onto the railing as he swung himself around the sharp corners. He bumped into a young man on his way down but continued without pause. The young man fell back into the wall and yelled out a string of obscenities at Wesley. He descended quickly and burst through the front door of the building. He stopped for a breather, welcoming the fresh air in his mind. He breathed deeply then sprinted around the corner, constantly on his toes avoiding people. Curving and side stepping through the crowd he eventually reached his car, parked next to the curb.
It was a new car, as Justine stole his other one. He had gone for the lowest priced effective vehicle he could, one that worked and actually moved when you wanted it to. It was always hard to find a good bomb. He rammed his keys into the lock and swung open the door fiercely, diving into the driver's seat and slamming the door behind him just as hard. He was surprised that it hadn't fallen off its hinges yet. He revved the engine and took off although it was only seconds of speed before he was forced to join a gruelling traffic jam. So after all of his efforts to make speed he was now forced into moving inch by inch behind hundreds of people. No doubt they all thought that their reason for being on the road was just as important as Wesley's.
He dug his fingers into his palm harshly, wondering how long he could bear the slow, gruelling wait. He had no idea what he would do with Justine once he had found her or indeed if he would find. He knew the chances were small but he had never felt so strongly about anything in his life. If he could find Justine and if she knew were to find Angel it was a chance for a step towards redemption and he was willing to take any risk to step it.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------- Lilah's eyes darted backwards and forwards across the page she held. She was taking a last glance over her project, for the 13th time. This was the 20-page ticket she had written to avoid punishment. She smiled as she finished the last word, dropping the stapled collection of papers on to her desk; this was a great opportunity for her, not only did she dodge punishment she could drop it onto her dimwitted competitor; a great opportunity indeed. She looked back out into the city and the sun; the two things melded together to great a picturesque image before her. She sighed as she stared at the city, wondering why she hadn't gone home yet. It's not as though she didn't have a home, she did, quite a nice one in fact; it's just that, unlike normal people home was not the place she wanted to be. She ate and slept there but really her life took place right here, in Wolfram and Hart.
Suddenly her personal reflection was split in two when two men burst through the door. One was a security guard, with a tough, unmoving face and the other was another attorney she recognized as Dillan Richards. He was tall and skinny with a weak, timid looking face. He was nice though, a pleasure to talk to and although that would usually be a weakness but he could make some one loyal to him with a quick exchange of words.
"Lilah," he said, shakily, "The girl in the white room."
She perked up at this; it was very strange. Usually talk of the girl in the white room was strictly forbidden and she wondered why Dillan was addressing this to her.
After a short pause he continued, ".she wants to speak to you."
"What?" She replied in absolute shock, she could not comprehend why such an important player would want to speak to the likes of her.
He nodded and she could tell he was just as stunned as she was.
Lilah acted quickly, standing up and walking swiftly out the door, Dillan and the guard following. They walked briskly down the hall and were suddenly joined by another, more important looking person whom swerved into the group from around the corner. The senior-looking man opened the elevator door for her and told the others to return to their duties. The doors shut and the man immediately began pushing in a code of buttons.
Damn! She was furious at herself for not catching the code. Knowledge like that could be worth a fortune and she just missed out because of a quick look at the man she was with. He was tall and strong looking, not just his moderately bulky body but his face was as hard as stone. Basically he looked like the kind of man who had spent a life with Wolfram and Hart.
He pushed the big button that appeared above of the others and the lift began humming as it ascended and then suddenly white light erupted around them and swallowed them whole.
Lilah looked around the white room for the second time. It seemed to be more important, more sacred since her last visit with Angel. Her eyes locked onto the young girl, sitting with folded arms and a straight back. She was the perfect image of innocence. She stood out strongly against the bright white of the room.
"Leave us" She commanded with a powerful voice of Authority. The man disappeared into white and was gone.
"Lilah," she spoke suddenly and quickly," I was behest to inform you of the coming events by the powers that be." She spoke quickly and clearly as though she was on a short deadline.
"Wha."
"SILENCE!"
"It's coming Lilah, the end, the beginning, everything everyone has fought for will come together," her voice continued to rise with power and passion as she spoke, "like the lamb of the alter, death is without vein. From the seventh day every sacrifice brings us closer." She spoke every word now as though it was sacred, like a preacher. "Lilah, know that you are the Wolf and when the vessel calls you must come."
Every word of the young girls echoed through Lilah's mind vividly, branded within her thoughts. The words were so powerful, so passionate that they were eternised within Lilah'. None of it was clear to Lilah; it opened up a line of questions that looked as though it would continue to grow. Lilah knew though that whatever the girl was talking about it wasn't any ordinary apocalypse, no; she realised that the world will be engulfed and she knew now that she was vital to the end.
Well that's that at 5091 words. A little bit of my well planned storyline has started to crop up. Bye!
So enjoy and please review!
CHAPTER 3-Sunrise
That same night.
Lilah rested her head on the back of her black leather office chair, casually staring at the roof and tapping a pen methodically on the edge of her desk. Her LCD screen radiated a sharp white glow to the softly lit office. This was Lilah's common routine during office hours, hear no evil, and speak no evil. For her that meant doing nothing. She noticed subconsciously for the umpteenth time the light greyish colour of her office roof. Her deep slumber of thoughtless time wasting was suddenly interrupted by two, soft yet piercing knocks at the door. Lilah sat up in her chair and flicked the pen on to her desk. She swung her chair around to face the door.
"Come in Gavin," she said tiresomely. He was the only employee at Wolfram and Hart she knew to knock. After you worked there long enough you began to contemplate how many minutes a year you wasted knocking. Wolfram and Hart has people on their toes constantly, you had to be efficient to survive.
Gavin opened the door and entered the office the very split-second Lilah's words escaped her lips. He walked in swiftly; he always did, as though he had some kind of pending agenda that motivated him.
He stopped and stood in the middle of the room, facing Lilah.
"Lilah, something has to be done." He said abruptly.
Lilah leaned back into her relaxed position.
"About what?" She said with a sly grin. She knew exactly where he was going with this but she enjoyed playing with him to no end.
"Don't play with me Lilah."
Lilah's grin widened with wicked pleasure.
".You know exactly what I mean"
She opened her mouth but had no time to speak before he resumed.
"We have been sitting on our asses for the last three days doing nothing, achieving nothing." He continued with a slightly raised tone. "We have to find them."
He paused.
"We have to do something!" He finished, on a slightly panicked note.
He stared at her waiting for a reply. When the seconds passed and none came he slammed both hands down on Lilah's desk, glaring at her. Lilah swung her chair around and stared him right back with a cool grin. After a brief second Lilah spoke, "While you've been sitting on that tender ass of yours I've been working my head off trying to find a solution."
Something about her tone made Gavin doubtful, something cold. His face showed her that he wanted to know more so she continued.
"I have a failsafe plan to lie back on, Gavin and I pity you for being the moron you are."
Gavin took his hands off her desk and stood up, looking down at her with a shocked look on his face.
"What are you playing at Lilah?" He said nervously, trying to keep a straight face.
" I can safely say that as soon as Lynwood returns from his vacation it will be you who will take the blame for the recent inopportune events."
Gavin stepped backwards a look of horror present on his face.
"But.how?" Gavin replied with a terrified stammer present in his voice.
"That's right." Lilah continued menacingly," The weight's on you Gavin and you're gonna carry it for the rest of your pathetic existence, however short that may be." Her voice was one of pure, wicked joy as she saw Gavin staring down at her, horrified out of his skin. 'It's amazing how much terror a law firm can imbue upon people' she mused.
She leaned forwards and gazed wickedly into Gavin's tortured eyes. A few seconds passed as Gavin struggled to contemplate what was happening and what would become of him. "Bye," she said in a sweet mock voice, smiling and doing a cute little waving motion with her hands. Gavin breathed in deeply and gathered the mental energy to reply.
"You're wrong Lilah." He said knowingly, his voice still shaken slightly. He managed a weak smile that was supposed to be cunning and left the office in the same manner he had entered, slamming the door behind him.
But a few seconds of silence followed before she broke out into ecstatic laugh of pleasure. Those last few minutes filled her bloodthirsty heart with enough joy to last a lifetime. Her whole body tingled with an odd kick of satisfaction. The look on Gavin's face really reminded her of what she loved most about her job. After only a few moments she grabbed her pen between two fingers and layed back into the comfort of her chair once again. Only this time she stared out her huge wall-length window, past the tall buildings that conquered the sky and into the vastness of the night. As pathetic as her brief chat with Gavin had been it had given her something to think about.
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Wesley staggered up the seemingly endless set of spiral stairs that led up to his flat. His legs ached, his jaw ached, and almost every muscle in his poor, weary body attacked him with jolts of pain with every slight movement. He conquered the journey step by step, breathing deeply.
The crude graffiti that suffocated almost every inch of the lower most corridors splashed more water onto the fire inside him, the fire that burned so fiercely by the night and smouldered to a weak glimpse of warmth every day. It was like clockwork, everyday for Wesley had been the same since he had departed from the hospital. Everything he did now was different; it's amazing how horror, guilt, anger and remorse can change a person. He had been thrown into a relentless hunt for revenge that repeated day by day, night by night. No, not so much revenge, it was more of a constant sinking sensation that had to be relieved. Killing was the way for him to block out all his thoughts, filling his heart with false happiness that he was helping, doing good. He was addicted like to an all-consuming drug that blinded his growing pain.
His slow, heavy footsteps echoed endlessly down the empty, depressing corridors. The whole place was dark as there were no windows in any of the corridors and the whole place radiated a feeling of loneliness, a fitting place for a man of such self-loathing. His mind was thoughtless as he approached his corridor. He carried a huge axe with him and it felt like it weighed a tonne. He had no doubt he would look suspicious to anyone who should happen to pass by, at least he had made a temporary excuse to his fellow tenants and the owners. They were all under the belief that he collected antiques, he had been pleasantly surprised that the alibi had worked like a dream although he suspected it was probably because his neighbours were all a bunch of low life drunkards who wouldn't give a stuff what he did.
He cut off the stairwell and headed towards the end door of the corridor. He placed his hand into the deep pocket of his long, leather jacket, pulled out the keys and opened the door. He stood in the hall for a moment, looking through his doorway and out the large, front window that took up about half of the wall space in the lounge room. His room, as with the city, glowed a warming orange from the waking sun. The city was waking and a short sharp flicker of pride sprung from the ashes that filled Wesleys heart and mind. It was a sudden flood of good memories and he was suddenly proud of everything he had done and accomplished. However it didn't take long for him to part with the feeling.
He slipped out of his jacket as he passed through the door, throwing it messily onto the arm of the couch and walking through to the bathroom. The bathroom was small, with just enough space for the shower, toilet, sink and he. He flicked on the dim light and gazed at his own solemn, jaded face in the mirror, eye to eye with the mysterious man he hardly knew. His features were all rough and hard, from his poorly kept beard to his hard piercing eyes. His serious stare looked as though it could crack a rock. He avoided his eyes and carefully propped up his axe against the blue-tiled of bathroom wall. He looked back into the mirror and assessed the damage of a night's battle. There was dry blood clearly present between his nose and his top lip but his nose didn't hurt too much so it was ignorable. Apart from that his face looked pretty much fine. He unbuttoned his shirt, noticing the large rip across it's front and hung it over the top of the shower. He cringed when he saw the many shaded regions of purple and green on his chest, accompanied by a large gash that ran diagonally from his left shoulder right to the bottom of his right ribs. He counted himself fortunate that the wound had not been marginally lower, if so it would have ripped open his stomach, then he would have lost his organs to the floor and died within seconds. Dry blood plastered his entire chest in large, hardened rivers and he bit his lip when he saw how much blood he'd lost. Still, he was not mortally wounded and as the gash was fairly shallow it had not caused any internal damage. Wesley began to clench his fists with anger at himself. He was undeniably foolish to raise a single axe to 4 swords and he hated thinking now, in the day, that he was that stupid. Night was his call and he had become almost two different people because of it. He sighed deeply and released his palm ' maybe I just want to die.' He thought, though not really stating on any level of truth. He stared into the mirror once more, gazing as deep as he could into his cruel eyes, trying to assess himself.
Wesley wasn't sure how many minutes had passed before he shook all the thoughts out of his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two small daggers. Their bodies were curved and they told stories of death and blood with so little as an idle glance. He placed them both down beside the taps as carefully as a mother would her child then undressed and started the water for a shower. The hot tapped untouched he stood under the refreshing downpour. The cold water bringing refreshment to his exhausted body. He stared down into the drain intently, immersed in his many thoughts as his body healed its burdens.
He always struggled desperately to fend off the thoughts of Angel that were constantly accumulating within his mind. He had not heard from Angel since his services were called upon to save Fred. But he had heard of Angel from a very untrustworthy source of his, Lilah. She had cracked the news to him with ecstatic joy; Cordy, Conner and Angel were gone. He thought little of it then and there but slowly, when they were not found he grieved the absence.
He wished he could just forget them all and drive off to some unknown world but he knew that the horror Angel had inflicted upon him and the grief he had inflicted on Angel would keep the both of them in LA. It bound them, neither of them willing to forgive and neither of them willing to have revenge. He closed his eyes and watched the blackness, escaping into a world where only the good memories took effect. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------
Fred stared at the ceiling; intrigued by a little game she had made up. Her eyes were wide with curiosity as she eagerly scanned it for systematic variations in the its tone. After about five minutes she threw in the towel and dug her face into the pillow. She felt fortunate that she was not in store for another day of frantic, useless searching. Today she had something else to think about, Lorne was coming back. She almost found herself giggling out loud with excitement. She soon realised it was a cry of relief. Although she loved Gunn she hated to work on such an urgent issue with only one person. It only takes a while for both people to start contradicting each other's every decision and falling into a negative state of mind. She was so relieved that Lorne was returning, partly because it might help having someone like Lorne looking for Angel and partly because she thought two was becoming a crowd for her.
Lorne wasn't particularly smart or strong but she admired the way he helped everyone motivate themselves and she began to feel that a hotel devoid of Lorne is as lonely as an empty warehouse. That demon had soul; that was for certain. He had only to be present to lighten the mood.
She held back fears of having to tell Lorne about the missing persons, though it was very hard. She was extremely nervous that Gunn would have to ruin Lorne's welcome home. All those times she had called she had never got more than two seconds with him either because he had to do something or was about to perform on stage, or both. He certainly sounded very busy over in Las Vegas. She counted herself lucky that she had Gunn to take on the tough job of telling him. That last phone call she made gave them about 5 minutes with each other and she didn't want to tell him then. Lorne told her that he was coming back tomorrow and she said they'd pick him up from the airport at 8.00 at night and after that they just talked about why he was leaving and what he had been doing.
From what she caught from the fast paced phone call he'd been up to a lot. Apparently he'd hit off in Las Vegas and was a real legend. Strangely that was the reason he'd given for returning. She smiled to herself, but then Lorne never really cared for that sought of thing, for wealth and fame. From all the recent tragedy he'd endured in LA last year he probably thought he did but Fred knew he'd be happier in LA. The second destruction of his club all but stole his singing career from him and surprisingly that was probably the saddest thing she's witnessed as a member of Angel Investigations.
To have him back would at least be a start.
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Gavin slid his outstretched finger down the paper he held in his other hand, his eyes glancing back and forward trying to take in all the names and phone numbers on the list as he finger passed them. His eyes suddenly locked on to one of the names and he abruptly stopped his finger there. That was the contact he was up to.
He had been sitting in his office for about two hours now and it hadn't been till the second that he'd ceased staring blindly at the wall, as though he needed to put all his energy into staring so that he could see. It had taken that long for his shame and humiliation to settle and turn into a fierce, motivating anger. As he had stared at the wall fierce and ceaseless thoughts paraded within his mind. He had not lost control; he had stared at the plain, uninteresting wall, unsettled to the brink of panic. The shame of losing to his competitor, Lilah, drowned him in a deep, dark resesion. He knew she was more advanced and experienced at being the cunning employee of the month but he and her had got so competitive he felt all the more worse when he was knocked back. He also knew that he had many stones to uproot and bridges to fell before he had the ruthless approached to life Lilah had acquired. Before he had joined Wolfram and Hart he had thought he was ruthless but now he was the novice. Eventually his dark reflections burnt out and he had taken action. He now had a clear sense of mind and body and a sharp confidence that he would succeed Lilah and climb the wobbly ladder of Wolfram and Hart.
He hadn't considered his sudden plan of action with much effort but it wasn't really a plan worthy of thought. He had printed off a copy of the hallowed Wolfram and Hart dept list. Surprisingly the dept list had nothing to do with money; it was a record of every person who owed Wolfram and Hart a favour. Those who are helped by Wolfram and Hart are either charged money or they are added to the dept list. Which category you fell into depended on what kind of things you could offer as a favour and how many others were on the dept list.
So he picked his phone from the hook for the fortieth time and dialled the number his finger was on. He tapped his fingers impatiently as the phone rang unanswered. He was just about to hang up when a reply came.
"Hello, this is Daniel, what can I do for you?" Daniel answered in an awkwardly cheerful tone.
"My name is Gavin, I'm an attorney for Wolfram and Hart." Gavin replied coolly, he enjoyed ruining people's moods to no end. There was a strange silence of realisation from the other end and he didn't reply for a few seconds.
"What can I do for you Gavin?" He finally replied on a slightly flatter, less cheerful tone.
"Check your e-mail. Open the message entitled 'target'." Gavin waited for the man to affirm he was following.
"And?"
"There is a picture of a boy attached, I want you and everyone you can get to look for him OK. I want a twenty four hour man hunt until he is found and when he is call me."
"Where do I look?"
"Any dark, grimy alleyway should do it."
"But."
"JUST LOOK!" Gavin shouted, cutting off Daniel's wasteful complaint in its tracks and tossing the phone back onto its hook.
Gavin looked out his wall-length window at the warm, rising sun that was warming his room in engulfing sunlight. He swung his chair around and leaned back into it, looking out at the glorious city of LA. He realised then that he would have it no other way, the city consumes you, it becomes a part of your blood and Gavin knew that he would never leave. Whatever happened he would stay to watch it through. He smiled a short, sweet smile and swung back round to his list.
"Lucky 73rd" He muttered to himself as he grabbed the phone again. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------- Wesley strolled briskly out of the bathroom, dropping his tattered, bloodstained shirt into the rubbish bin in the corner of the room on his way to the kitchen. He was half-naked in his jeans, which had fortunately survived the night unscathed. He entered the small, empty kitchen and pulled open the fridge door. He looked into his fridge and grinned when he caught his target at first glance, a six-pack of beer sitting lonesomely in the middle of the middle tray; it was practically the only thing in the fridge. He reached in and pulled snapped one off shutting the fridge door as he turned back into the lounge room.
His chest looked a lot better after that refreshing shower. The blood was all gone and the only inflictions to remain were his many bruises. The bruises really were worse though, as any slight movement of his chest would pain him terribly.
The sun was wide-awake now and well into its glory stage of pure warmth and brightness. The light poured through his window and lit the lounge room brilliantly. He opened the can of beer at sat down on his tatty, orange couch. It was old but he had had it for years and it was a great place to fall back into, the soft, worn cushions consumed you with a sensational comfort. He lay back into it and took a sip of his beer. It tasted like cat's piss, as usual but he was used to it and you could even note he had become quite fond of it. The cheap shit he bought now was a world apart from when he had 4 or so of his favourite champagne lining the inside of the fridge door. He looked over at his TV. It was silhouetted against the bright window. Wesley took another sip of his beer and flicked it on within the couch-side remote. The box made a strange noise and then the visual slowly appeared on the screen. It was a morning news program; slightly interested, he raised the volume.
He watched as the news presenter shuffled some papers and moved along to the next story.
"Last night a series of atrocious crimes woke the usually peaceful neighbourhood of Burkensfield. Neighbours of a young, single mum awoke to screaming and strange noises and decided to call the police. The police who were called on the case claimed a single woman assaulted them. The police were left unconscious in the middle of Fent St. and it wasn't until much later that more police were called in; a man just around the corner of Fent St. called the police on his mobile after he awoke to find two strange men in his house. This case itself was very strange, it appeared that the intruders entered the house through the back wall"
Wesley was sitting up in the couch now watching and listening as best he could, the bit about breaking through a wall had snapped his attention.
Pictures of the broken wall flashed across the screen.
Now he was outright intrigued.
"Mr Arnold claimed that he was woken during the night to find the two intruders fighting in his kitchen. He announced this morning that one of them wore some kind of disfigured mask and that the masked man had attempted to attack him."
Wesley tried to figure out what all this meant as the news reverted to the assaulted police.
".Also had a strange element to it. All three police who were subdued that night claim they had only one, female attacker. Police, later that night put a picture to the policeman's descriptions. A photo was taken from a night surveillance camera from a previous week and all three police recognised her as the attacker. A light, black and white picture appeared on the screen.
Wesley stared hard at it and a thousand thoughts broke into his mind.
"Justine?" He asked himself out loud. It took him but a third of a second to realise that it was Justine and that for the first time in months he had been given a purpose, as small as it may be. He put his beer down onto the floor and sprinted into the bathroom. He hastily scanned the room back and fourth with his eyes, trying to remember where he had put them. He saw their dark, metallic colour against the white sink and ran over to them. He grabbed one with each hand and tucked them safely in the back of his belt. He sprinted into his room and grabbed another beige shirt from his almost depleted wardrobe. He threw the shirt into the air and slipped one arm into the sleeve then following suit with his other. He buttoned his shirt with one hand as he walked swiftly towards the door, scooping up his jacket and throwing his arms into it as he approached the door. He swung the door open and slammed it shut, reaching into his jacket pocket for the keys once again. He locked the door, dropped the keys back into his pocket and began a rapid descent down the stairs.
He knew he didn't really have to rush to this extent but he also knew he would never forgive himself if he missed Justine and lost his only lead to find out what was happening.
The sharp clang of his boots on the steel stairs echoed through the dimly lit corridors with great rapidity. He jumped a couple of steps as often as he could and gripped tightly onto the railing as he swung himself around the sharp corners. He bumped into a young man on his way down but continued without pause. The young man fell back into the wall and yelled out a string of obscenities at Wesley. He descended quickly and burst through the front door of the building. He stopped for a breather, welcoming the fresh air in his mind. He breathed deeply then sprinted around the corner, constantly on his toes avoiding people. Curving and side stepping through the crowd he eventually reached his car, parked next to the curb.
It was a new car, as Justine stole his other one. He had gone for the lowest priced effective vehicle he could, one that worked and actually moved when you wanted it to. It was always hard to find a good bomb. He rammed his keys into the lock and swung open the door fiercely, diving into the driver's seat and slamming the door behind him just as hard. He was surprised that it hadn't fallen off its hinges yet. He revved the engine and took off although it was only seconds of speed before he was forced to join a gruelling traffic jam. So after all of his efforts to make speed he was now forced into moving inch by inch behind hundreds of people. No doubt they all thought that their reason for being on the road was just as important as Wesley's.
He dug his fingers into his palm harshly, wondering how long he could bear the slow, gruelling wait. He had no idea what he would do with Justine once he had found her or indeed if he would find. He knew the chances were small but he had never felt so strongly about anything in his life. If he could find Justine and if she knew were to find Angel it was a chance for a step towards redemption and he was willing to take any risk to step it.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------- Lilah's eyes darted backwards and forwards across the page she held. She was taking a last glance over her project, for the 13th time. This was the 20-page ticket she had written to avoid punishment. She smiled as she finished the last word, dropping the stapled collection of papers on to her desk; this was a great opportunity for her, not only did she dodge punishment she could drop it onto her dimwitted competitor; a great opportunity indeed. She looked back out into the city and the sun; the two things melded together to great a picturesque image before her. She sighed as she stared at the city, wondering why she hadn't gone home yet. It's not as though she didn't have a home, she did, quite a nice one in fact; it's just that, unlike normal people home was not the place she wanted to be. She ate and slept there but really her life took place right here, in Wolfram and Hart.
Suddenly her personal reflection was split in two when two men burst through the door. One was a security guard, with a tough, unmoving face and the other was another attorney she recognized as Dillan Richards. He was tall and skinny with a weak, timid looking face. He was nice though, a pleasure to talk to and although that would usually be a weakness but he could make some one loyal to him with a quick exchange of words.
"Lilah," he said, shakily, "The girl in the white room."
She perked up at this; it was very strange. Usually talk of the girl in the white room was strictly forbidden and she wondered why Dillan was addressing this to her.
After a short pause he continued, ".she wants to speak to you."
"What?" She replied in absolute shock, she could not comprehend why such an important player would want to speak to the likes of her.
He nodded and she could tell he was just as stunned as she was.
Lilah acted quickly, standing up and walking swiftly out the door, Dillan and the guard following. They walked briskly down the hall and were suddenly joined by another, more important looking person whom swerved into the group from around the corner. The senior-looking man opened the elevator door for her and told the others to return to their duties. The doors shut and the man immediately began pushing in a code of buttons.
Damn! She was furious at herself for not catching the code. Knowledge like that could be worth a fortune and she just missed out because of a quick look at the man she was with. He was tall and strong looking, not just his moderately bulky body but his face was as hard as stone. Basically he looked like the kind of man who had spent a life with Wolfram and Hart.
He pushed the big button that appeared above of the others and the lift began humming as it ascended and then suddenly white light erupted around them and swallowed them whole.
Lilah looked around the white room for the second time. It seemed to be more important, more sacred since her last visit with Angel. Her eyes locked onto the young girl, sitting with folded arms and a straight back. She was the perfect image of innocence. She stood out strongly against the bright white of the room.
"Leave us" She commanded with a powerful voice of Authority. The man disappeared into white and was gone.
"Lilah," she spoke suddenly and quickly," I was behest to inform you of the coming events by the powers that be." She spoke quickly and clearly as though she was on a short deadline.
"Wha."
"SILENCE!"
"It's coming Lilah, the end, the beginning, everything everyone has fought for will come together," her voice continued to rise with power and passion as she spoke, "like the lamb of the alter, death is without vein. From the seventh day every sacrifice brings us closer." She spoke every word now as though it was sacred, like a preacher. "Lilah, know that you are the Wolf and when the vessel calls you must come."
Every word of the young girls echoed through Lilah's mind vividly, branded within her thoughts. The words were so powerful, so passionate that they were eternised within Lilah'. None of it was clear to Lilah; it opened up a line of questions that looked as though it would continue to grow. Lilah knew though that whatever the girl was talking about it wasn't any ordinary apocalypse, no; she realised that the world will be engulfed and she knew now that she was vital to the end.
Well that's that at 5091 words. A little bit of my well planned storyline has started to crop up. Bye!