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wesleynotponcyWesley's hands were braced at his sides as if poised to... punch someone? Hide his face? as he and Gunn navigated their way around the outside of a mansion in search of the first-floor window that would lead to the room where the Nyazian prophecy was being kept. This was the same Nyazian prophecy, in fact, that had been mentioned by multiple sources in the demon community, as well in a variety of critical referenec texts, as predicting the arrival of some great and terrible doom in the Los Angeles area sometime before the end of the year.
So it was an important text, and if Wesley was somewhat enthusiastic about having the opportunity to break and enter, and to take advantage of the outrageously expensive gloves he'd purchased several months ago for just such a purpose, well, that was his business.
"Step one," he hissed to Gunn as he stepped around a bush and crouched in search of a window latch. "The Dobermans are happily gnawing on the steak. Alarm and vid lines are disabled--" he paused to check the scanner he had with him and wait for it to update-- "no infrared. Caught a break there. Step two: we cut a hole in the glass, snake in the mini-cam and scan the interior."
As Charles stepped around the window to give him some space, Wesley knelt down to take out the equipment from his bag. He'd come prepared. "If it's all clear, we disable the locks and bolts on the side door, thus completing..."
There was a soft noise that sounded quite a bit like a door opening, and Wes looked up. Oh. Gunn hadn't moved to give him space, he'd moved to open the side door just next to the window.
"...step three," Wesley finished lamely.
He fumbled to retrieve his belongings and stuff them back in his bag, set off to enter the house, then doubled back to remove the suction cup from the window. Then he followed Gunn inside, tiptoeing and mouthing a quick 'Thank you' as Gunn shut the door behind him.
The room, it turned out, was full of artifacts -- hardly a surprise, really, given how expensive the house looked and how wealthy the owners were sure to be.
"Can you believe this?" Wes breathed, barely containing himself from squeeing and bouncing up at down at the thought of being in the same room as all this stuff. A Gunderson first-edition, a porcelain vial of what what was sure to be some ancient poison, an eleventh-century Chinese crossbow...
Gunn didn't seem nearly so impressed. "Some guys collect old cars, some guys collect -- one-eyed demon heads." He eyed one that was displayed in a glass case, making a face. "It's like the eye follows you wherever you go."
Wesley took a moment to mentally assess what type of demon it probably was, then moved on to examining the other artifacts. After a cursory sniff, the porcelain bottle revealed itself to be Muslok Trancing Amalgam -- well, that or GHB, but that hardly fit the theme of the room. There were fertility statues and masks that he knew better than to touch, having heard from Giles what those masks could do, but no scrolls.
"All right," he murmured. "If you were the priceless remnants of the lost Nyazian Scroll, where would you be?"
Gunn shrugged, and glanced around the room before his eyes fell on a locked safe. "If I was priceless, I'd be in the vault."
Wesley looked up, alarmed. "The vault?" he repeated, smacking Gunn on the shoulder. "Your snitch never said anything about a vault."
"I got a bad feeling about this," Gunn said slowly.
Wesley did too, but he insisted upon remaining positive. "We'll figure something out," he said as a means of keeping calm. "It's just... a vault."
Gunn coughed. "Actually my bad feeling is more about the man standing behind you with the large revolver."
Wesley turned. Oh.
"Move and I'll kill you," the man threatened. (Didn't they always?) He stepped forward into the room, reaching for a phone.
All right, all right, keeping calm... aha. "I hope you're calling the police," Wesley said, doing his best to keep his voice steady.
"You bet I am," the man replied, not seeming to sense the trap in Wesley's words.
"Good," Wes said, satisfied and hoping very much that this worked. "You can explain to them why you keep so much GHB on hand." He patted the porcelain bottle he'd just inspected. "You know. Rohypnol, the date rape drug." He allowed himself an additional moment of satisfaction when the man only looked confused, then elaborated, "Muslok Trancing Amalgam. Under the microscope it's virtually indistinguishable from GHB."
The man squinted at him for an additional moment, then put down the phone. "All right. I won't call the police."
"I'm glad we understand each other," Wesley replied, satisfied.
"Until after I kill you," the man concluded.
Oh.
Well, there went Wesley's supply of plans. He supposed he could always lunge for the gun himself, or perhaps simply make a run for it, but they needed the scroll very badly and here was a man who could undoubtedly open the safe for them. He just had to think...
"Hey," Gunn piped up, interrupting Wesley's train of thought. Wesley turned to look at him and saw that Gunn had picked up four red glass balls from a bowl on a table, inspecting one while the other three were cradled between his other arm and his chest. "These worth a lot?"
The man froze. "Yes," he said, very slowly. "They're Cyopian conjuring spheres."
"How much?" Gunn pressed on. "Four figures each?" He tossed one ball up in the air, then caught it easily. "Five?" Another ball went up, then a third and a fourth, which he proceeded to juggle. "More?"
"Stop that!" the man exclaimed.
Gunn didn't flinch. "Put the weapon down."
The man hesitated for just a moment, which Gunn rewarded by dropping one of the balls to the floor. The liquid spilled out of it, staining the carpet bright red.
Gunn whistled. "Kinda delicate," he evaluated, and continued to juggle the remaining three. "Look, we're not thieves, we're investigators. Now, we need to look at your Nyazian Scrolls. Put the weapon down, because -- I'm getting kind of tired here."
"All right!" the man blurted out, hastening to place the gun down on a glass case just in front of him. Wesley took it, casually observing how expensive and well-crafted a weapon of this caliber had to be.
As the man made his way to unlock the vault, Gunn's hand slipped, and a second of the balls fell -- only to be caught just in the nick of time by Gunn's shoe. "Always want to give 'em a big finish," he said, smirking.
[[from angel 3x07 "offspring." nfb/nfi.]]
So it was an important text, and if Wesley was somewhat enthusiastic about having the opportunity to break and enter, and to take advantage of the outrageously expensive gloves he'd purchased several months ago for just such a purpose, well, that was his business.
"Step one," he hissed to Gunn as he stepped around a bush and crouched in search of a window latch. "The Dobermans are happily gnawing on the steak. Alarm and vid lines are disabled--" he paused to check the scanner he had with him and wait for it to update-- "no infrared. Caught a break there. Step two: we cut a hole in the glass, snake in the mini-cam and scan the interior."
As Charles stepped around the window to give him some space, Wesley knelt down to take out the equipment from his bag. He'd come prepared. "If it's all clear, we disable the locks and bolts on the side door, thus completing..."
There was a soft noise that sounded quite a bit like a door opening, and Wes looked up. Oh. Gunn hadn't moved to give him space, he'd moved to open the side door just next to the window.
"...step three," Wesley finished lamely.
He fumbled to retrieve his belongings and stuff them back in his bag, set off to enter the house, then doubled back to remove the suction cup from the window. Then he followed Gunn inside, tiptoeing and mouthing a quick 'Thank you' as Gunn shut the door behind him.
The room, it turned out, was full of artifacts -- hardly a surprise, really, given how expensive the house looked and how wealthy the owners were sure to be.
"Can you believe this?" Wes breathed, barely containing himself from squeeing and bouncing up at down at the thought of being in the same room as all this stuff. A Gunderson first-edition, a porcelain vial of what what was sure to be some ancient poison, an eleventh-century Chinese crossbow...
Gunn didn't seem nearly so impressed. "Some guys collect old cars, some guys collect -- one-eyed demon heads." He eyed one that was displayed in a glass case, making a face. "It's like the eye follows you wherever you go."
Wesley took a moment to mentally assess what type of demon it probably was, then moved on to examining the other artifacts. After a cursory sniff, the porcelain bottle revealed itself to be Muslok Trancing Amalgam -- well, that or GHB, but that hardly fit the theme of the room. There were fertility statues and masks that he knew better than to touch, having heard from Giles what those masks could do, but no scrolls.
"All right," he murmured. "If you were the priceless remnants of the lost Nyazian Scroll, where would you be?"
Gunn shrugged, and glanced around the room before his eyes fell on a locked safe. "If I was priceless, I'd be in the vault."
Wesley looked up, alarmed. "The vault?" he repeated, smacking Gunn on the shoulder. "Your snitch never said anything about a vault."
"I got a bad feeling about this," Gunn said slowly.
Wesley did too, but he insisted upon remaining positive. "We'll figure something out," he said as a means of keeping calm. "It's just... a vault."
Gunn coughed. "Actually my bad feeling is more about the man standing behind you with the large revolver."
Wesley turned. Oh.
"Move and I'll kill you," the man threatened. (Didn't they always?) He stepped forward into the room, reaching for a phone.
All right, all right, keeping calm... aha. "I hope you're calling the police," Wesley said, doing his best to keep his voice steady.
"You bet I am," the man replied, not seeming to sense the trap in Wesley's words.
"Good," Wes said, satisfied and hoping very much that this worked. "You can explain to them why you keep so much GHB on hand." He patted the porcelain bottle he'd just inspected. "You know. Rohypnol, the date rape drug." He allowed himself an additional moment of satisfaction when the man only looked confused, then elaborated, "Muslok Trancing Amalgam. Under the microscope it's virtually indistinguishable from GHB."
The man squinted at him for an additional moment, then put down the phone. "All right. I won't call the police."
"I'm glad we understand each other," Wesley replied, satisfied.
"Until after I kill you," the man concluded.
Oh.
Well, there went Wesley's supply of plans. He supposed he could always lunge for the gun himself, or perhaps simply make a run for it, but they needed the scroll very badly and here was a man who could undoubtedly open the safe for them. He just had to think...
"Hey," Gunn piped up, interrupting Wesley's train of thought. Wesley turned to look at him and saw that Gunn had picked up four red glass balls from a bowl on a table, inspecting one while the other three were cradled between his other arm and his chest. "These worth a lot?"
The man froze. "Yes," he said, very slowly. "They're Cyopian conjuring spheres."
"How much?" Gunn pressed on. "Four figures each?" He tossed one ball up in the air, then caught it easily. "Five?" Another ball went up, then a third and a fourth, which he proceeded to juggle. "More?"
"Stop that!" the man exclaimed.
Gunn didn't flinch. "Put the weapon down."
The man hesitated for just a moment, which Gunn rewarded by dropping one of the balls to the floor. The liquid spilled out of it, staining the carpet bright red.
Gunn whistled. "Kinda delicate," he evaluated, and continued to juggle the remaining three. "Look, we're not thieves, we're investigators. Now, we need to look at your Nyazian Scrolls. Put the weapon down, because -- I'm getting kind of tired here."
"All right!" the man blurted out, hastening to place the gun down on a glass case just in front of him. Wesley took it, casually observing how expensive and well-crafted a weapon of this caliber had to be.
As the man made his way to unlock the vault, Gunn's hand slipped, and a second of the balls fell -- only to be caught just in the nick of time by Gunn's shoe. "Always want to give 'em a big finish," he said, smirking.
[[from angel 3x07 "offspring." nfb/nfi.]]
