The Secrets

Eliot fought the urge to snarl at Parker, at this ridiculously perky teenager with a very distinctive style he’d never seen before, at the dust on his clothes, at the ridiculous teenagers showing up and acting as if nothing was strange at all.

He settled for the little half-smile that had gotten him through not strangling Hardison more than once. “The youth group. Alisha is here to join.” His smile morphed into his best fake smile. “I’m here to help keep an eye on things. You know how much trouble you young folks can get in.” He draped a protective arm around Parker’s shoulders and hoped they bought it. He wasn’t a grifter, damnit, and they’d just seen him fighting.”

The blonde narrowed her eyes at him. “The youth group?”

“Oh, I hear it’s a lot of fun!” Parker smiled brightly. “There’s supposed to be singing, and some sort of handiwork, right, Uncle Dave?”

“That’s right, young missy. And it’s all good clean fun.”

“Says the guy who was taking on two vampires by himself.” The blonde narrowed her eyes at him. “Who are you, and where are you from?”

“I’m Dave Palmer, and this is my niece Alicia, and we’re from Boston to help out with this youth group.” He gave them his best good-ol’-boy smile, the one that showed teeth and crinkled his face. Sophie liked it; she said it made him look genuine.

“All the way from Boston?” The brunette girl frowned at him. “That’s a long way for a youth group.”

“Aw, well, we go where the mission takes us, you know.”

“And you fight vampires.” The blonde girl was unhappy with him. The feeling was mutual.

Eliot let a little of the good-ol’-boy slip. “I was in the armed forces, ma’am. I don’t take kindly to people attacking me, and I will fight them when they do so.”

She shifted backwards. “We don’t want the government getting involved.”

He held up both hands in surrender. “Was, ma’am, mustered out and I don’t play that game anymore. But it don’t mean I can’t hold my own against some creeps.” He brushed off his clothes. “Just didn’t expect to see creeps quite like that here, in such a little town. Certainly wasn’t in the brochure.”

The last was slanted, almost a snarl, and directed directly at Hardison. On the other end of the comms, he held up both his hands, although Eliot couldn’t see the gesture. “Don’t look at me, man. Nobody told me we were fighting the undead hordes, either.”

“No.” Tara’s voice was level and calm — and more serious than Nate had heard her be in years. “They’re not kidding, and I’m not joking, either. Eliot and Parker are lucky they survived. Eliot, disengage from the woman before you offend her. I’ll explain everything I can when you get back here.”

“Brochure?” Buffy could hear the faint buzz of conversation in the earpieces, but she noted that for later discussion. “Oh, that silly thing? It doesn’t tell you anything at all about friendly Sunnydale. The vampires, the four days a year it’s not really sunny here, all of those dirty little secrets. Now, this youth group you’re here to join, it wouldn’t be the Idle — Cordy?”

“Idle Hands Workshop.” The brunette girl stepped forward, getting into Eliot’s face without the faintest whiff of fear. “That wouldn’t be you and your friends, would it? Because if it is, I’ve got some questions.”

disengage.

” Tara’s voice, on the other hand, sounded worried. “Nate, we’ve got to reconsider this mission.”

Eliot smiled even more sharply at the brunette. “No ma’am.” He offered his hand. “Cordelia, was it? No, we are not part of the Idle Hands group, but we heard they were having a spot of trouble, and we came into town to see if we could help.”

“That trouble wouldn’t involve—” Cordelia trailed off into a muffled noise of indignation as the young man slapped his hand over her mouth.

The man smiled brightly and took Eliot’s hand with his free hand, shaking it firmly but without any real grip-testing. “What Cordy’s trying to say is that we’ve heard there was some trouble, too. Maybe we’ll come check out the group with you?”

“Elliot…” Tara’s voice was down to a whisper. “This could go so badly.”

“Sure!” He smiled brightly at the young man. “Here, let me write down my number — Alisha, hon, write down my number, wouldja? I don’t remember it — and we’ll get your information. We can work something out.”

Twelve: The Warning

“You’re something else.” Buffy shook her head at the man and wrote down the library number. “Look, I’m not supposed to get calls from strange men—” She masterfully ignored the snorts and suppressed laughter from Xander — so here’s our librarian. He’s a good friend, and he can handle any ‘working anything out’.” She wrinkled her nose at the man. He was too affable, too nice, and way too good with fighting. “Maybe we can spar sometime? If you’re going to be wandering around being bait, I can show you a few things about fighting vampires.”

Most men wouldn’t like being taught by a girl, especially not army men. This guy, he just smiled wider. “I’d love that, ma’am. Ah, here.” He handed her the paper the maybe-a-new-Slayer had written on. “That’s where we’re staying. I do hope we see you around.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “Tell your friends — the ones on your phone thingies — that they’re right. You’re in Sunnydale now. Things are going to go badly.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1152200.html. You can comment here or there.

Narnia Problem

Aug3

Hi guys…

I am ~stuck~ on Narnia/Cat in the Closet. I have an entire nother chapter written, but I’m bored.

And if I’m bored, well, then I expect the reader (you) will be too.

So I come to you for help. Help? Advice? Anything?

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1151188.html. You can comment here or there.

Lucy Weaver’s July Prompt Call~

Jul31

Check out Lucy Weaver’s prompt call today:

I’m in the mood for action, for political intrigue, for space battles and sword fights and bishie boys. I will write at least 250 words per prompt, and may write more if the urge strikes me. I’ll be taking prompts from July 30-31

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1147180.html. You can comment there.

13: The Trees that Do Not Speak, a continuation of a fanfic of Narnia and Valdemar

Jul22

first: A Door in the Wall
Second: On the Other Side of the Door
Third: The Call Comes Again
Fourth: New Travelling Companions
Fifth: Complications and then Complications
Sixth: Stranger Things
Seventh: A Change and Changes
Eighth: But Not A Return
Ninth: The Gods Not Tamed
Tenth: The Tiny Queen Arises,
Eleventh:The Gentle Queen Awakens
Twelth: The Terror of the Plains

The ride was an easy one, and they were not going at speed. Polla spent a few hours regaling them with tales of her exploits as the Terror of the Plains, tales which Susan suspected were lightly censored for ears she could not help but think of as young.

When they broke for the night, it was at a campsite, the first time they’d had a chance to “rough it” in this new world.

“Oh, let us get the tents,” Edmund chivvied. “We haven’t had a chance to in ages, and it’s always nice, like setting up a new house wherever you are.”

Half or more of the time, their ‘tents’ had been royal pavilions, set up by aides. Susan chose not to point that part out; she was fairly certain her brothers could set up a tent.

“Lu and I can gather firewood.” She looked around the forested area; their campsite had clearly been used thus before; it was set back from the road but in a clearing in the trees, there was a firepit made of stacked stones with a spit already set above it, and there was a wide smooth spot cleared of brush where the boys were already setting up tents. “Is there an axe or a hatchet?”

“…This, I was not expecting. Here, the hatchet ought to be small enough for even Lucy to handle comfortably. Don’t go too far from… ah.” Polla coughed as Susan swung her quiver onto her back. “Still, don’t go too far from camp.”

“We’ll stay within earshot of a shout,” Susan assured her. “What’s the biggest threat in these hills?”

“There are big cats — cougars and something a little smaller but a lot more nasty — and there are sometimes bandits. You’re better with the cats than the bandits, truth be told, because you can scare off a cat.”

“We’ll be careful,” Lucy promised solemnly. She hefted the hatchet thoughtfully. “These trees don’t talk, do they?”

“No, we’re not deep enough into the Pelgaris Forest for that. Still, it’s best to stick to deadwood, even here. None of that will give you any trouble.”

“Of course. Thank you.” Lucy bounded off, her eyes on Susan wide and happy. Susan could read in her sister’s expression what she wanted to crow to the sky: Did you hear? They have trees that talk!

She patted Lucy’s shoulder. “There will be time to explore, we can hope, when the mission is done.”

“I do hope so. This is different, it’s… in Narnia…” she dropped her voice to a whisper. “Anywhere we went, even the trees knew us. ‘Sons of Adam and daughters of Eve.’ And then we were their historical kings and queens, or we were Caspian’s old friends. Here, we’re strangers. We’re kids again. It’s strange not to be known when we’re not at — not on — not at home?”

Lucy, Susan knew, would always think of Narnia as home. “I know, Lu. But we’re going to help these people and do great things here, as well. And then maybe you’ll get to wear lovely dresses again,” she teased. “And give out largess.”

Lucy wrinkled her nose. “I’ll leave the pretty dresses to you. You’ve always been better at them.” She walked in silence for a moment. “And Peter’s always been better at the high diplomacy, and Edmund at the low.” She twisted around and aimed a mischievous smile at Susan. “I just like talking to people.”

“I seem to remember you’ve stopped two wars and started a third by ‘just talking’,” Susan retorted.

“Well, I’m very good at talking. It was… I think it was a little easier when I was little older. But at this size, I’m very good at listening.” She stretched out her arms and tested the hatchet, carefully, on a piece of deadwood. “We should have trained more.”

“We trained as much as we could. There was fencing class, and that archery we practiced. And all those long walks to keep our legs in the habit of walking.”

“But there wasn’t proper training.” Lucy swung her hatchet again. This time, the deadwood cracked and split. “It wouldn’t have done, I suppose. They’d have asked questions. They asked enough questions, about all of us. Peter and all his questions about the War.”

“Me and those awful girls at school,” Susan agreed quietly. “You and the time you split that horrid boy’s lip and made sure he blamed himself.”

Lucy glanced guiltily back at her big sister. “You weren’t supposed to know about that.”

“There are things you’re all good at. I’m good at knowing what’s going on. Like the way that the people in the bar were gossiping — did you hear? They were talking about the Young Prince and all the trouble he gets into. And then in the village, they were talking about King Roald, and they were fussing about him. So the Young Prince…”

“That’s who we’re looking for?” Lucy murmured. “And they think…”

“He enjoys partying, he likes to cause trouble. If he’s missing, it could be a prank.”

“Do you really think Aslan would have brought us here for a prank?”

Susan didn’t say the first thing that came to her mind — they had not seen Aslan. They only had the word of a cat that Aslan had sent them. “No,” she answered instead. “I don’t think he’d send us here to resolve a prank.”

“Then we should treat it as if it is real. Besides,” Lucy added, and although her voice was quiet, Susan could hear the edges, as sharp as the hatchet she was swinging, “we should be mindful not to discount someone, just because they’ve been known to prank before.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1145146.html. You can comment here or there.

Wednesday? What Wednesday?

Jul20

Sorry, guys… um. *cough* Tomorrow will be Wednesday.
And also Thursday.
And maybe part of Friday.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1144406.html. You can comment here or there.

Summer 2016 Giraffe Call Stories written~

Jul20

I have finished (much slower on the second round) the Giraffe Call stories, although I am still working on the tips-and-commissioned stories. You can find them all at this tag:

http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/tag/giraffecall:+result

or on LJ:

http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/tag/giraffecall:%20result

Final numbers for the second round are:

$16 in donations, no new Patreon patrons, 2 new friends/followers/bloggites…. just $9, 2 patrons, or 2 new friends away from the goal.

All in all, I’d say it’s a good run, and I’m that much closer to a new tablet (poor tablet met the road. Well, sidewalk).

P.S. I’m still really proud of the splash icon I got to use the first round:

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1144236.html. You can comment here or there.

12: The Terror of the Plains, a continuation of a fanfic of Narnia and Valdemar

Jul15

They left the tavern on that solemn note. Polla, Susan could tell, was attempting to hide a limp. She moved until she was between the woman and the mass of the crowd, and smiled as she saw Peter flank Polla on the other side.

The woman, in turn, said nothing, but Susan noted that she let herself lean a little more heavily on her cane, and that she still sighed with relief when they had reached the inn’s stables. “You’re good kids.”

“You’re not the first war veteran we’ve encountered.” Edmund’s answer was casual, so casual that at first Susan thought he’d gone too far. “It’s hard to be out there with strangers seeing a weakness like that, right?”

Polla didn’t answer for a moment. She busied herself with the saddle on her dun mount, a small and flat saddle far less complicated than the ones the Pevensies had been using. There were not so many straps on it to take such time, and yet she was still working on her saddle when Susan had finished saddling her own mount.

“It is hard,” she agreed, so quietly that the jangle of tack nearly covered her voice. “And it’s frustrating. I am not weak, but that’s all they see. A limp, when I used to be the Terror of the Plains.”

“The Terror of the Plains?” Lucy asked, in her high child’s voice. Polla turned from her tack to look down at Lu.

“It was advertising, more or less. Telling everyone I was far bigger than I was. Telling them we were bigger than we were — my merc crew,” she continued, before they could ask. “We were tough and a little wild, but we were a small crew. So we talked ourselves up until we nearly believed it.” She swung herself up into the saddle. Seeing her there, her limp momentarily unimportant, Susan could believe her having been the Terror of the Plains.

Susan swung up into her own saddle. “I — we — know a bit about being seen as smaller and weaker than we are. It can make you want to throw rocks, can’t it?”

“Susan!” Peter was, of course, scandalized.

“Well, it can. It always has, Peter, whether it was you and Ed forgetting that Lu and I had brains of our own, or Mum and Dad thinking we were… we were just children.” She looked directly at Polla. “We’re smaller than we are, as Lucy once said. And so we know all about being looked at as lesser and… incapable.”

Polla caught it. She coughed. “Then the gods look favorably upon Valdemar after all, don’t they? You’re a sharp one — Susan, it was? You remind me of my old Captain.”

“Thank you.” Susan smiled broadly. “There are far worse compliments than to be reminiscent of a mercenary captain. Some of…” our best friends and finest warriors, my favorite lover, the ones that won that war for us… “We have known some fine mercenaries over the years.”

“I begin to think that your years are counted a little differently than your average gal-on-a-horse counts them.”

“We count every year twice,” Lucy put in, chipper and patently insincere. “That way there are twice as many birthday parties, and we can grow up twice as fast.”

Polla chuckled. “You’re quite adorable. But don’t think I don’t see how you sit your saddle, young miss.”

Lucy slouched deliberately and exaggeratedly. “Dunno whotcher talkin bout, lady?” She ruined it by grinning, which led to Polla barking out a laugh. Even Edmund chuckled, the quiet sound that he normally reserved only for family.

“You’re fun, too. Not sure I’ve ever met people that were clever and kind and fun.”

Lucy straightened up. “We’re still kids,” she answered innocently. “We’re supposed to be fun. And clever, well—” she shrugged. “We might be pretty smart. There’s a reason we were chosen, of course.”

“Of course. Valdemar does some pretty strange things though, young Lucy. And sometimes they are not the best chosen. You’ll forgive me for trusting my own judgement more than theirs, I hope.”

“Only as long as you forgive us for trusting ours.” Lucy’s smile was so bright, people often forgot to take offense even when she was being patently offensive. “We were brought here to do a job, but people seem very reluctant to let us do it. I think it’s making my brothers and sister a little touchy.” She stage-whispered the last as they walked their horses out onto the road.

“And not you?” Polla raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, no, I never get touchy. I’m the cheerful one. That’s what I’m called, Lucy the Sunny.”

“Valiant,” Edmund interjected, lazily but with a point hidden in all the silk. One again, Susan remembered how much she’d missed this side of her brother — and of her sister. “They called you the Valiant. And you earned it.”

Lucy blushed and ducked her head. “They did at that, sometimes,” she muttered.

Polla let the silence hang a few minutes, their horses’ hooves clopping on the cobbles as the only sound. “They,” she said, finally, the single word punctuated by a birdcall.

“They,” Edmund repeated, in the same smooth tone.

“You were brought here to help with our little problem.”

“We were sent,” Susan answered.

“Susan…” Peter began, but she shook her head.

“We were called for — and we were sent. The rest is a wee bit complicated, but we come from a long way away.”

“A long way away, hrrm? Well.” Polla smiled, a strange smile but not a bad one, “let’s hope it turns out to be worth the trip, then.”

Thirteen: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1145146.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1142393.html. You can comment here or there.

The Hellmouth Job, Chapters 9 & 10 (A Leverage/Buffy Fanfic)

Jul13

Part I
Part Ia
Part II
Part III
Chapters 7 & 8

The Intersection

“Look, I can help you.” Hardison’s voice was rising in panic. “Just tell me what stores you see.”

Parker looked around. “Nearest intersection has a… Cobalt jewelry and a Costello ice cream. Big fountain thing. No skylight.”

“Cobalt, Costello. Check. Man that’s a big mall. It’s almost like… well, okay. Elliot?”

“Sec.” Elliot had taken advantage of the situation to bash the man’s head into the floor twice. He gave the guy one more heavy thunk. “Yo. One down. No cameras, no mirrors… here comes another one. Parker?”

“Ready.” She was smiling. Of course she was.

“So,” Hardison mused over their earpieces, “is this why the mall is empty, or is someone trying to send us a message? Are we getting too close?”

Elliot slammed his fist into their attacker’s jaw while Parker swept low and kicked his legs out from under him. He went down, and three more came around the corner.

“Too close?” Elliot punctuated his complaint with a roundhouse kick. “We haven’t gotten anywhere yet. You’ve been watching too much TV again, man.”

“These guys are strong,” Parker commented idly. She was around one’s neck, thighs around his throat.

“Parker, you hang upside down from buildings by your fingers,” Hardison pointed out. “I’ve got the infrared, but I think it’s broken. Man, what kind of mall has infrared security?”

“You know, this is why Sunnydale doesn’t have any visitors.” A perky voice complained from the sidelines. “We get some nice scruffy, scary-looking men and bam, someone attacks them.”

“Scruffy?” Elliot snarled. “Who’re you calling scruffy?”

“Who’re you calling a man?” Parker countered. “Man, does this man need to breathe, or what?”

“Probably not.” A blonde girl stepped out of the shadows. “And they’re not very friendly, are they?”

“Perfectly,” Elliot punched one attacker in the solar plexus, “Fine.”

“Ooh, you’re something, but you’re out of your league here, soldier boy.” She bounced into the fray with a spin kick, shoving the third attacker away from Elliot.

“I’ve got this,” he grunted. “…and don’t…” He twisted the man’s arm until it broke, “call me that.”

“He’s not a soldier,” Parker offered cheerfully. She hadn’t managed to asphyxiate her target, but neither had he managed to get her off of him. “He’s with us.”

The newcomer didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the apparent non sequitur. “You’re good, both of you. But these things don’t breathe and they don’t fall down.” She punctuated the last by shoving a large wooden stick through the ribcage of one of the attackers. “Unless you know how to hit them. “

The assailant fell apart in a cloud of ash. The woman twisted around, repeating the move with the second attacker. She looked up as Parker whistled; she was holding out her hand. “Gimme?”

“Don’t miss.” The new girl tossed the piece of wood to Parker in a low underhand toss; Parker caught it, bent over backwards, and shoved it through her target’s back while she flipped off of him. He vanished in a puff as she landed.

“That was fun! Do you get to do that all the time around here?”

“P… Alisha,” Eliot snarled. He turned his glare on the newcomer before Parker could even blink. “What the hell were they and who the hell are you.”

“Also thank you,” Parker offered. “What?” She looked between the two of them staring at her. “N… Mr. Boss says we ought to be polite, and… Mrs. Boss agrees.”

“Who am I? I think a better question is ‘who are you and what are you doing here?’”

Elliot sighed. “Shoulda sent someone else,” he grumbled, mostly to Hardison. “Right. Thank you.” He looked at the stick still in Parker’s hand, and the small piles of ash on the ground. “What falls apart like that? I’ve fought some weirder people, and some even weirder shit, but nothing that falls apart like that.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No.” Elliot didn’t so much answer as snarl it. “We’re from Boston.”

The Introduction

“Buffy, where did you go, there’s shoes to be bought…”

“Buffy, help, Cordelia is trying to make me have an opinion!”

Cordelia and Xander skidded to a stop as they reached Buffy and the two strangers.

“Oh, ick.” Cordelia frowned. “Did you find more of your freaky little friends? Is this the new Kendra? Because seriously, one of you is enough.” Cordelia wrinkled her nose.

“I can still take back the offer for shoes, you know.” Buffy turned her attention to the strangers. “You’re not from around here, you fight like pros… who are you?”

The blonde woman — blonde acrobat, Buffy thought, although next Slayer was not a bad guess — waved cheerfully. “We’re here to join the youth group!”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1141327.html. You can comment here or there.

Finish It! Bingo Card

Jul11

I’m filling this in slowly from the below list, but this is my allbingo card for the “Finish It” challenge.

Rin’s parents, and Rin’s father, and … (II)	Carrying the Spirit. (V)	Arisse and Chress (V)	Take Me (V)	The Hazards of Magic (V)	Fated (III)	Edally (α)
Robbie meets Radar (V)	B is for Beryl and her Boys. (VI)	How The Family Does things (IV)	Fifty Years. (I)	King(maker) Cake. (III)	Aetheric Cleansing. (II)	Novella(α)
You’d Better Watch Out. (IV)	Rin & Girey (V)	Unicorn-Chaste (I)	Discovery (IV)	The Enemy’s City (IV)	Æ is for Ash. (II)	Landing Pages (3 big) (α)
The Portal Closed (III)	Bjorn (I)	Mikary (III)	Over the Wall (IV)	The Cat’s Paw. (III)	Far Weston. (VI)	Ghost Story I(α)
Daxton and Esha (II)	Jin (III): Hostage Situation	A Locked Chest is Locked for a Reason (VI)	Wild Card(IV)	Legacy Cat (VI)	Charming (I)	Kickstarter(α)
The Strength (VI)	Shahin and Emrys (VI)	Unicorn Strokes (II)	Gremlins/Junie’s kidnapping (I)	Aetheric Cleansing. (I)	Three Glass Beads, Peacock Blue (II)	Submission(α)

working on

completed

next

Partial Finish

At any point, I may sub out one of these for another suggested one or something else I need to finish.

The numbers (those that remain) correspond to the list below. This was arranged from the allbingo public card, your suggestions, and Random.org’s list randomizer.

The Roman numerals are another way of getting a bingo – do, say, all of the (I) instead of a line or a square or such.

see links here – http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/1197753.html

The list
1 Gremlins
2 Unicorn Strokes.
3 Mikary: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/507478.html
4 How The Family Does things — at resting point/chapter break, but there could be more.
5 Robbie meets Radar, discussed in comments.
6 B is for Beryl and her Boys.
7 Unicorn-Chaste.
8 Rin’s parents, and Rin’s father, and …

9 Jin and the hostage situation: how did he nab the guy long-distance, and what fallout came from it to Jin or anyone else?
10 Over the Wall
11 Carrying the Spirit.
12 Shahin and Emrys
13 Fifty Years.
14 Æ is for Ash.

15 King(maker) Cake.
16 Wild Card.
17 Rin and Girey, and more Rin, with research.
18 A Locked Chest is Locked for a Reason.
19 Charming.
20 Three Glass Beads, Peacock Blue.
21 Fated.
22 The Enemy’s City.

23 Take Me

24 Legacy Cat.
25 Aetheric Cleansing.
26 Space Accountant: A Reason – and Accidental, and bunking arrangements, etc (Genique got Married?) – http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1092113.html

27 The Portal Closed.
28 Discovery.
29 The Hazards of Magic.
30 The Strength.
31 Bjorn: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/566245.html
32 Daxton and Esha
33 The Cat’s Paw.
34 You’d Better Watch Out.
35 Arisse and Chress
36 Far Weston.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1103171.html. You can comment here or there.

The Hellmouth Job, Chapters 7 &8 (A Leverage/Buffy Fanfic)

Jul8

Part I
Part Ia
Part II
Part III

The Reconnaissance

“So, complaint one, this place is in like the eighteenth century or something. LIke nothing here at all is computerized. That’s going to mean a lot more Parker and Sophie and a lot less me.” Hardison frowned at his computer screen.

“And Tara.” Sophie opened the door to their rental house to reveal her sometimes-partner. “She’s consulting on this one.”

Nate raised his eyebrows. “Hello, Tara. Sophie…”

“No, I didn’t invite her, Nate. I know how you get about these things.” Sophie held up both of her hands.

“I invited myself. Sophie and I were chatting about your little mission here, and, well, it’s Sunnydale. You need a guide.”

“A guide?” Hardison frowned. “A big town, this is not.”

“I’m not talking about the streets.” She dropped her bag and checked her make-up in the mirror. “I’m talking about the nightlife.”

“We’ve handled the mob before, Tara.” Nate frowned at her. “This one doesn’t have a revenue stream. We can’t pay you.”

“Trust me, I’ll make money. If I can’t make money in Sunnydale, then I can’t make money anywhere — and I can make money everywhere.” She made a kiss-face at the mirror and then, only then, turned to look at the three teammates. “Nate, Sophie, Hardison, good to see you. Eliot and Parker running recon?”

Hardison coughed. “Something like that…”

“The mall,” Eliot complained. “The freaking mall.”

“Teenagers?” Parker shrugged. “That’s what Nate said. Teenagers like malls, right?”

He side-eyed her. “You’re something else, you know that, right? Yes, teenagers like malls. So where are all the teenagers?”

“Curfew?” Parker guessed. “Do teenagers have that?”

“Why are you asking me?” Eliot nearly snarled it out. He was looking back and forth, scanning for danger, while they were faced with nothing more exciting than a nearly-empty mall.

Parker shrugged. “Seemed like you’d know.”

Eliot glanced at her, then dropped his voice and moved in closer. “Look, I was never what you’d called exactly a normal teenager, either. None of us were, except maybe Nate. Okay?”

“Teenagers are hard,” Parker muttered. “They talk a different language, and the language changes all the time. It’s like being in Paris and suddenly finding out they speak German. That wasn’t any fun either.”

“What… never mind. Look, we’re pretending to be — we’re going in as adults, all right? And the one thing teenagers know about adults is that they’re clueless. Use that.”

“Clueless.” She widened her eyes. “Like normal people!”

“Exactly. So… look. You know that feeling you get when you look at normal people? Like they’re all a bit ridiculous? Just use that. Everyone’s a bit ridiculous.”

“Have you noticed,” Parker shifted gears without warning, “how for a mall, there’s no mirrors here? When Sophie goes shopping… there’s mirrors everywhere. This place… I’ve counted something like three.”

“And there’s this guy sneaking up on us, too,” Eliot muttered. “Go check out the mall,” he sneered. “See what the teenagers in this town do. Thanks, Nate.” He ducked down, barely missing a swinging grab, and swept the attacker’s feet out from under him. “Amateurs.”

The man on the ground shifted; Eliot grabbed his hair. “P… Alisha.” At the last moment he remembered they were here under alias. “Cameras?”

“None.” She looked again. “There’s two camera balls there, but there’s no camera in them. And they didn’t even bother with the cheapest hidden cameras or anything.”

“A kill zone,” Elliot muttered. “It’s a freaking kill zone. I’m gonna murder Hardison.”

“I heard that, man.” Hardison’s voice popped up in both their ears. “All right, so what you’re in is also a dead zone. Half of that place, I can’t even find you. Oh, and the good news? Security ain’t coming.”

Eight: The Debrief

“I don’t know why driving you to the mall is part of my job. I mean, I don’t know why I have a job here at all. I mean, I’m not part of your little scooby gang. It’s not my thing. But here I am, it’s nearly dark, and we’re going to the mall…”

“Because we’re going to buy you a new pair of shoes,” Buffy interrupted, “just as soon as you tell us what you found out from Franklin. Remember, pointy bribery?”

“Yeah, well, just make sure that’s the only pointy thing you aim my way, creep girl.” Cordelia glared at the steering wheel.

“The intel, Cordy?” Xander prompted from the back seat.

“‘The intel’,” she mocked. What are you, army boy?”

“Shoes, Cordy.” Buffy flapped a hand in Cordelia’s direction. “What’s the scoop?”

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