Virtually Clean
Chapter 4: The Transformation
So he had been captured by H.A.D.E., what else was new? It's not like he hasn't been there before. That's what he signed on for right? The fight, the pain...the horribly bad uniforms...all part of the job.
Lorne pushed himself out of his very uncomfortable cot, and walked to the bathroom. He barely recognized the demon staring back him. The unusually shaggy hair...the white undershirt...God, he never thought he'd ever be caught in one of those. But what surprised him most were the muscles. He, Lorne, the "stay at home and keep an eye on things while Angel and the others went to fight the baddies" guy...had...muscle? It was true...but after twelve years of protesting, fighting and a total of four years time spent in the holding cells of H.A.D.E....it was expected.
Lorne leaned close to the mirror.
"Now where did you go?" Lorne forced a smile, and laughed a little. "Ah, there you are..." He smirked at his own little musing, and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't particularly like the look...but he always managed to forget to cut it for months at a time. As a result he sort of looked like that kid from Terminator two.
As he left the bathroom, Lorne picked up his jacket. He had some serious protesting to do at city hall this morning, they had just declared the building a 'humans only' building. He and Charlotte had to stay at the front...they'd most likely be picked up by Spike's (or "William's" as he was now calling himself, guess it sounded more human) little soldier boys.
Lorne had sworn he'd never get back into this kind of life, swore he'd never put himself in the 'good vs. evil' situation. But here he was trading in his bright, colorful suits for a black jacket with an arm patch that read 'D.A.P.T.' across it. Here he was getting ready to do battle.
A few years ago Lorne had come to the realization that once you had led the life, you could never really get out of it, now matter how large or small your involvement. The truth was, this whole D.A.P.T. thing fell into his lab...almost literally....
Lorne had been working in Vegas, having a much better experience with out an evil manager trying to steal others futures. For the first year, everything was perfect. Lorne was cranking out six or seven shows a night, the place was always packed...and he always had a superbly mixed sea breeze in his hand. God, how he would KILL for a sea breeze. After the Awakening, people stopped showing up, and eventually he was fired. Lorne couldn't get work anywhere in Vegas after H.A.D.E. opened an office there, and he didn't want to go back to L.A., though he missed the place terribly. Instead, he completely the opposite way. New York. The flight in was great. It was, of course, a demons only flight. When the airline first started separating demons and humans, the refused to allow demons to learn to fly...in fear of possible terrorism. Unfortunately...the human pilots on the demon flights were either killed by a rouge vamp, or committed suicide mid-flight. So now the 'demons only' flights were really ONLY demons. Never the less the flight HAD been great. Lorne was relentlessly optimistic, and had an overwhelming urge to sing New York, New York...so...he did. By the end of the flight, he had the whole damn plane singing...even the pilot. It was the last time he would ever feel that happy again.
After arriving in New York, Lorne had bought a piece of real-estate and opened a club. The first month was easy enough...only he couldn't have the place protected, not since the use of spells, and other such magics had been outlawed. But the crowd wasn't very rowdy, besides it was all demon anyway...no human would dare step foot in there.
It was just after the first month that things went bad. The club was just hitting it's peek hours for the night, and a large group from D.A.P.T. was there celebrating a successful protest, when all of a sudden there were gun shots, and shouting...and at least one hundred H.A.D.E. soldiers came bursting into the club. Lorne scrambled for safety behind the bar, that's where he met Charlotte.
That's the same day he joined. He didn't really participate much at first, but after a raid had landed him in the holding cells...Lorne began his transformation.
And what a transformation it was. But as Lorne walked to city hall, Charlotte beside him and about fifty other members of D.A.P.T. behind them...he began to wish he had the old Lorne back. The old Lorne, who was quick with a corny little joke and a smile, who called people 'crumb cake' and 'sugar'...he missed all of that...
...even as he shouted and screamed before the steps of the City Hall, even as he raised his fists and demanded...even as he was drug away by Spike's foot soldiers, and even after being beaten and thrown into the tormenting holding cells....he wished he could go back...wished he had never gotten into that limo outside the hotel...he wished he had said no to Angel...he wished...
...he wished he could see them all again.
Chapter 4: The Transformation
So he had been captured by H.A.D.E., what else was new? It's not like he hasn't been there before. That's what he signed on for right? The fight, the pain...the horribly bad uniforms...all part of the job.
Lorne pushed himself out of his very uncomfortable cot, and walked to the bathroom. He barely recognized the demon staring back him. The unusually shaggy hair...the white undershirt...God, he never thought he'd ever be caught in one of those. But what surprised him most were the muscles. He, Lorne, the "stay at home and keep an eye on things while Angel and the others went to fight the baddies" guy...had...muscle? It was true...but after twelve years of protesting, fighting and a total of four years time spent in the holding cells of H.A.D.E....it was expected.
Lorne leaned close to the mirror.
"Now where did you go?" Lorne forced a smile, and laughed a little. "Ah, there you are..." He smirked at his own little musing, and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't particularly like the look...but he always managed to forget to cut it for months at a time. As a result he sort of looked like that kid from Terminator two.
As he left the bathroom, Lorne picked up his jacket. He had some serious protesting to do at city hall this morning, they had just declared the building a 'humans only' building. He and Charlotte had to stay at the front...they'd most likely be picked up by Spike's (or "William's" as he was now calling himself, guess it sounded more human) little soldier boys.
Lorne had sworn he'd never get back into this kind of life, swore he'd never put himself in the 'good vs. evil' situation. But here he was trading in his bright, colorful suits for a black jacket with an arm patch that read 'D.A.P.T.' across it. Here he was getting ready to do battle.
A few years ago Lorne had come to the realization that once you had led the life, you could never really get out of it, now matter how large or small your involvement. The truth was, this whole D.A.P.T. thing fell into his lab...almost literally....
Lorne had been working in Vegas, having a much better experience with out an evil manager trying to steal others futures. For the first year, everything was perfect. Lorne was cranking out six or seven shows a night, the place was always packed...and he always had a superbly mixed sea breeze in his hand. God, how he would KILL for a sea breeze. After the Awakening, people stopped showing up, and eventually he was fired. Lorne couldn't get work anywhere in Vegas after H.A.D.E. opened an office there, and he didn't want to go back to L.A., though he missed the place terribly. Instead, he completely the opposite way. New York. The flight in was great. It was, of course, a demons only flight. When the airline first started separating demons and humans, the refused to allow demons to learn to fly...in fear of possible terrorism. Unfortunately...the human pilots on the demon flights were either killed by a rouge vamp, or committed suicide mid-flight. So now the 'demons only' flights were really ONLY demons. Never the less the flight HAD been great. Lorne was relentlessly optimistic, and had an overwhelming urge to sing New York, New York...so...he did. By the end of the flight, he had the whole damn plane singing...even the pilot. It was the last time he would ever feel that happy again.
After arriving in New York, Lorne had bought a piece of real-estate and opened a club. The first month was easy enough...only he couldn't have the place protected, not since the use of spells, and other such magics had been outlawed. But the crowd wasn't very rowdy, besides it was all demon anyway...no human would dare step foot in there.
It was just after the first month that things went bad. The club was just hitting it's peek hours for the night, and a large group from D.A.P.T. was there celebrating a successful protest, when all of a sudden there were gun shots, and shouting...and at least one hundred H.A.D.E. soldiers came bursting into the club. Lorne scrambled for safety behind the bar, that's where he met Charlotte.
That's the same day he joined. He didn't really participate much at first, but after a raid had landed him in the holding cells...Lorne began his transformation.
And what a transformation it was. But as Lorne walked to city hall, Charlotte beside him and about fifty other members of D.A.P.T. behind them...he began to wish he had the old Lorne back. The old Lorne, who was quick with a corny little joke and a smile, who called people 'crumb cake' and 'sugar'...he missed all of that...
...even as he shouted and screamed before the steps of the City Hall, even as he raised his fists and demanded...even as he was drug away by Spike's foot soldiers, and even after being beaten and thrown into the tormenting holding cells....he wished he could go back...wished he had never gotten into that limo outside the hotel...he wished he had said no to Angel...he wished...
...he wished he could see them all again.