DISCLAIMER: Yeah, I still don't own any characters from "Shaun of the Dead." Oh, and Merry2004, thanks for your kind words. If you'd like to check out the Pegged Message Board, just go to and do a search for Simon Pegg. Hope to see you there!
Jessica and Slick, this one's for you. Rock on, my Simon-besotted sistahs!
As Michael and Sara pulled up to the Council building, the devastation was visible from the outside. Broken glass, smoke and fire damage. News reports had blamed it on an electrical short-circuit. Parking at the curb, they ducked under the crime scene tape and entered the building. Michael showed his ID to the lone constable left to guard the premises and was allowed to enter.
They moved silently and cautiously through the once-shining lobby, now being worked over and examined by crime scene investigators, and started to climb the stairs to the upper floors.
Sara caught a brief glimpse of a body with blond hair on the floor behind the front desk and realized the cheerful receptionist, Dawn, must have been among the casualties. "This was our home," she observed sadly, "and they made it theirs."
"We don't have time to linger, Sara," Michael reminded. "Let's salvage what we can while we can."
They split up and went about the task of gathering UV lamps, stakes, and holy water. They made sure to grab a stack of illustrated pamphlets that had been distributed in non-English-speaking countries to help the locals deal with demon attacks. Their most recent use was in Afghanistan, when the fall of the Taliban had meant an open invitation to vampires waiting in southern Russia. Sara suggested passing them out to party-goers along with the stakes since they wouldn't be able to explain the situation over the loud music.
Entering Michael's office, she found him on the phone. She put the boxes down by the door and took a seat.
"Yes, yes," Michael said into the receiver. "Just do as much as you can. You've been a very big help. Thanks." He replaced the receiver. "That was Alexandra. She's still busily working on the translation."
"Is Lex okay? Was she hurt in the attack?"
"Broken arm, mild concussion, but otherwise fine. Have you got everything you need?"
"Yeah...apart from a car," she replied hesitantly.
"What happened to your car?"
"Um, well, Trelfall demon," she lied.
"Trelfall demon?"
"Yeah. You know how territorial those things are. I guess I parked in his space, and he kind of ripped my car apart."
"Yes, well, you can probably find another one in the garage. But next time be more careful."
"Oh, I will."
"By the way, whenever you're ready to tell me where you went after leaving Ryland's office last night, I'm ready to hear it." He steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair, calmly awaiting an explanation for all the cuts and bruises that had appeared on her since yesterday. "And don't even think of telling me that it was a Trelfall demon because their only interaction with humans has been to use them as incubators for their larvae."
"Really? Okay, ew..."
"Sara!" he snapped.
"All right, all right." She breathed in deeply. "After Shaun and I left Ryland's office, we went to Ryland's flat like you said. And then we found Will. He was dead and I...I dunno, I was in shock. I wasn't sure what to do next. So I went to this local drinking establishment that is known to be frequented by demons to see if anyone might know something about it."
"You went there to question them?"
"Exactly."
"Not to engage in an unsanctioned act of retribution for the murder of your colleague?"
"Michael, you don't understand—"
"Yes I do, Sara. I understand perfectly. You wanted revenge for Will's death so you went in there, guns blazing, looking to kick ass and take names. And I hope that you understand how incredibly stupid that was. Not only could you have been killed, but you could have permanently damaged our very shaky alliances with several of the local demon clans."
"Y'know, last time I checked my whole mission was to kill demons, not perpetuate some politically correct agenda set forth by some touchy-feely, New Age priests. I don't care if these demon clans have made generous donations to the Church, I don't care if they've received a papal bull to carry on goat sacrifices in Trafalgar Square, I don't care if they're invited to Sunday tea with the Prime Minister's wife. When they kill my friends, all bets are off."
Michael considered her with narrowed eyes. "Nevertheless, in this new century, politics are a necessary evil. You shall have to learn to be more diplomatic if you're going to be an agent of the Council."
"Michael, take a look around you! There is no Council! It's gone! Everything we've worked for is gone."
"The Council isn't just a building, Sara. It's the mission. The fight to protect what is good and pure in this world. As long as there is still someone left to fight, then there is still a Council. And there is still a reason to fight."
She maintained a thoughtful silence, looking at him across the desk. When her cell phone began to ring, she stepped into the hallway to answer it, almost grateful for an excuse to leave. A few moments later, she came running back in. "Right, Shaun's got the location of the party. A warehouse in Brixton. I told him we'd pick him up enroute."
"Good, we should go then."
"Actually, I need to change first. I wouldn't exactly blend in with this outfit."
"I'm sure you have some other clothes still here."
"No, for this transformation, I will need the help of a higher social power."
About an hour later, Sara found herself outside the door of 3A. She breathed in deeply, finding it difficult to swallow her pride. But she couldn't deny the fact that there was absolutely nothing in her wardrobe that would make her look like she belonged at an exclusive, underground party. She closed her eyes and willed her hand to raise itself and knock on the door.
The door then opened to reveal her downstairs neighbor, Jessica. Her red hair was bundled up in a fluffy towel on top of her head, the blue eyes that matched her silk robe wide with surprise. She gave Sara a sideways smile. "Well, well. Hello, stranger."
"Hi, Jessica. I really need to—"
"Did you and Shaun have a good time last night?" She crossed her arms and leaned against the open doorway.
"Not exactly. Look, there's something—"
"Because you two were conspicuously absent from our get-together last night. Honestly, Sara, I shall stop extending you invitations if you keep up this record of absenteeism."
If only, Sara thought.
"And what's that bandage on your head?" Jessica continued with her inquisition. "All those scrapes and bruises—did you go to a football match or something? I warned you those things can get rowdy."
"Jessica, please! I'm really sorry that Shaun and I couldn't come and have drinks with you and your martini-sipping friends, but something really important came up. A matter of life and death. And much as it pains me to say it, I really need your help right now. Can I come in?"
"Of course," Jessica said, a little surprised by the sudden seriousness in her neighbor's manner. True, she didn't know the American from upstairs all that well, but she always seemed very cordial and laid-back when they'd met in the hallway. "What's so important?"
"I can't exactly say, but—"
"Oh, hi, Sara!" Slick greeted from the kitchen. "Care for some tea?"
"No," she said abruptly, immediately sorry for her rudeness. "Sorry, I just don't have a lot of time. I have to go to this really, really important party and I don't have anything to wear."
"What kind of party is it?" Jessica inquired.
"It's actually a rave. Somewhere in Brixton. Obviously, I don't have any appropriate ensembles so I was wondering if you guys could help me."
Jessica and Slick exchanged glances which turned into excited smiles. "Makeover!" they cried in unison.
"Sara, don't worry about a thing," Jessica said, placing an arm around her shoulder and leading her to the couch. "You came to the right people."
"Y'know, my boyfriend Edgar probably left some of his black leather accessories here," Slick added, rushing into her bedroom.
"I'm not sure I want to know what that means," Sara remarked as she sat down.
"She means necklaces, bracelets, that kind of thing," Jessica explained. "Now what color hair should we go with: red, blue? Ooh, what about green?"
Sara felt an uneasy tension start to settle on her and wondered why she found the prospect of a transformation at the hands of her neighbors far more terrifying than any vampire she'd ever faced. Jessica brought a bundle of hair extensions in all different colors from her bedroom and started to hold them up to Sara's face, checking for complexion compatibility.
"Maybe this was a bad idea," Sara said hesitantly, starting to rise.
"No, no, no. Sit right back down!" Jessica ordered.
"Okay," she complied.
"So, is Shaun going with you to this party tonight?"
"Um, yeah."
Jessica smiled broadly as the realization dawned on her. "Oh my God, this is it, isn't it? The first real date? I mean, that must be why you're so...fidgety."
"This is not a date thing, it's a work thing," Sara insisted.
"In that case, can I have a 'work thing' with him tomorrow night?"
"Jess, it's not like that. Shaun is...I don't even know how to describe him. He was this random guy I met in the record store. And then slowly, gradually, he worked his way into my life until...well, until life without him doesn't seem a very attractive prospect."
Sara picked up one of the blazing red hair extensions and twirled it around her fingers. "I mean, he's seen me at my worst. My absolute worst. But it didn't faze him. He didn't make up some excuse, say he had somewhere else to be or tell me that he couldn't handle it. He stayed right by my side. He made me feel like I don't have to go through this alone."
"Yeah, yeah," Slick dismissed, as she entered with an armful of leather accessories. "Nevermind that Oprah stuff. Is he shaggable?"
"I don't think of him like that," she answered with a slightly nervous laugh. The two girls stared her down. "I mean, not really." They continued to stare. "Not that much." And they continued to stare. "Okay, okay, he is definitely shaggable."
Jessica and Slick shared a smug smile.
"But it doesn't matter anyway because my job prevents me from even thinking about dating."
"What? Are you a nun?" Slick quipped.
"Or maybe a CIA agent," Jess suggested, "afraid that she might reveal national secrets to him under the covers."
"Guys, look, I'm not a nun, I'm not a spy, and I am definitely not girlfriend material. So can we just drop this please?"
"Fine."
"Suits me."
"Who's this Edgar again?" Sara asked Slick, as she placed different bracelets around Sara's arms.
"Oh, my boyfriend. And potential soulmate."
"Two months and she's already planning their wedding in an Irish castle," Jess groaned.
"It was a Scottish castle, smartass. Anyway, we met when my band, Insanity, opened for his band, Herd of Iron Beef, at this club called the Albatross. He's absolutely brilliant," Slick gushed. "He's funny and talented and sweet. He's got this great goatee, and these really deep eyes you could just get lost in."
"So does Shaun," Sara said dreamily, without thinking.
Jess and Slick exchanged glances.
"Right, we definitely have to make you look irresistible tonight," Jess pronounced, using her remote control to cue up a Kylie Minogue song on the CD player.