Chapter 23.
"OK, Angel!" exclaimed Boone: "Put up your dukes."
Angel massaged the bridge of his nose, with his right hand, as he sighed: "Different city; same old crap."
Whereupon, he suddenly ran forwards and tackled Boone to the ground, in a move that would have been the envy of an NFL quarterback! The only trouble was that, even as the purple-skinned demon landed flat on his back, he was using Angel's momentum to lift both legs underneath him. With the result being that Angel found himself being kicked off Boone's upper torso, and landing flat on _his_ back.
The two of them rolled over on to their stomachs, and sprang to their feet, in perfect unison.
"A mighty sneaky move, Angel. You ruined my Stetson!"
Boone threw the cowboy hat to his left, as if to emphasize his point.
"Then let's call it another draw," replied Angel: "Before I have to ruin your whole body!"
"I can't do that. I got a code of honor to uphold."
Whereupon, Boone now charged towards Angel! With the latter deciding to meet him half-way.
Lindsey McDonald, watching this from the sidelines, mentally compared it to watching a videotaped heavy-weight wrestling championship on fast-forward. With Angel ducking Boone's first two, metal-enwrapped swings, and landing two of his own. Only for Boone to block the third with his left arm, and punch Angel in the stomach with the clenched fist of his right.
Yet, when Boone moved in to finish subduing his opponent, Angel (still doubled over) turned out to have been playing 'possum. He head-butted Boone in the stomach, then unbent upwards, so that he head-butted Boone square in the jaw. Followed by a third head-butt to the bounty hunter's forehead!
This sent Boone staggering backwards. And, he did so just long enough for Angel to once more tackle him to the ground. Only this time, he not only stayed atop him. He also began pummeling the purple-skinned demon right and left. Trying to knock him unconscious through sheer quantity of blows.
Boone, however, was made of sterner stuff. A fact he demonstrated when he gave a roar worthy of a Viking berserker and grabbed the lapel of Angel's white shirt. Using that as leverage for a roll to the latter's right. So that, now, Boone was the one sitting atop Angel, and raining him with steel-hard blow after blow after blow!
MEANWHILE, AT SAN FRANCISCO POLICE HEADQUARTERS...
Cordie slowly awoke from her crying-induced nap. For a few seconds, she was completely disoriented. Not remembering where she was, or why. Then, it all came back to her. The ambush at the Chinatown hotel, the ninja vamp, and Doyle.
"Buffy?" she called out, looking around for the Slayer.
"Excuse me, miss," said a young tow-headed police detective with a tan trench coat: "Are you looking for that petite blonde girl with the pony-tail?"
"Yeah," replied Cordie: "Do you know where she is?"
The detective (who bore a slight resemblance to David Bowie) nodded: "She asked me to escort you to her the moment you woke up. So, if you'll follow me, please? I'm John Blalock, by the way."
"Cordelia Chase," she replied, shaking hands as she trailed the detective into an elevator. They rode in it all the way to the top floor. When they exited, they turned to their left and went to the end of the hall. There, they went through a gray-painted metal door, and climbed a flight of stairs to the roof.
"Buffy?" Cordie called out as they emerged: "Where are...MMMMMMPH!"
She tried to struggle as the chloroform-soaked handkerchief went over her nose and mouth. But, as desperate as her struggles were, Blalock's left-handed grip proved just as unbreakable as the right-handed one pinning both of her arms to her sides. And, only when Cordie had ceased struggling, did he resume his true appearance. Which most people would probably have described as a bald alien from outer space!
An assumption that would seemingly have been verified by the fact that Blalock-after cradling Cordie across both arms-teleported away with her.
tbc