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bedlamsbardMirrorverse, yo.
It took Flack approximately 1.287 seconds to realize that no, Toto, he wasn't in Kansas anymore. Or New York City, as the case was. Well, he could have still been in New York, but this wasn't what's-his-face's apartment unless he'd had a small mansion hidden in his closet.
Also, he had a killer headache that definitely hadn't been there five minutes ago when Danny had gotten the hinges off the door.
Also, a demon with a mass of brown curls, huge yellow eyes, and a blowtorch was staring at him.
Flack screamed.
A black hand clamped down over his mouth before he could get out more than a squeak and a familiar voice asked, "Where the hell did he come from?"
The yellow eyes resolved into goggles and went up over the brown curls, revealing Stella's face, wide-eyed and with the blowtorch roaring bright blue flames dangerously close to Flack's nose. "You're the smart one, Hawkesy! Isn't it your job to figure that out?"
Hawkesy?
Hawkes held up his free hand. "Sweetcheeks, I'm just here to blow stuff up and you know it."
Sweetcheeks? Either he was in a parallel dimension or hallucinating, and unless someone got naked real soon this hallucination was going to go somewhere Flack didn't like. "Mmmpphhgh," he said.
Disappointingly, Stella showed no sign whatsoever of taking off any part of her clothes. None of which she had been wearing five minutes ago, none of which was any part whatsoever of her NYPD dress uniform. Not that Flack had ever thought of Stella in her dress uniform.
Or with a whip. And handcuffs.
Flack bit down on Hawkes' hand. Hard. Which had the unfortunate effect of forcing it directly into the flame of the blowtorch and Hawkes let go abruptly. "Bloody --!"
Flack skittered sideways. "What the hell's goin' on here, huh? Huh? Stel?"
Hawkes, sucking on his injured hand, glanced up at Stella. "You know this guy, sweetcheeks?"
"I have never seen him in my life." Stella glared at him, blue flames still roaring around her face. "And I'm busy here. We have a very limited window and I'm not letting some hotshot interloper -- Hawkes, just watch him, we can take him with us as soon as --"
"Kidnapping's a capital crime, that's probably not a --"
"He popped out of a mirror!" Stella said. "Window! Limited! Drugs! Wear off! Danny, how are we looking on time?"
Flack glanced around. Danny was nowhere in sight and he'd never seen this place in his life. Nice study though. Kind of like the things you found on the Upper West Side, when he'd worked cases there.
There was a crackle like static and Danny's voice came through, tinny and a little distorted. "Stel, my readings got all thrown off for a minute there. Somethin' happen? You blow a fuse or somethin'?"
Stella looked at Flack. "You could say that," she said. "How much time? Have you heard anything from Aiden yet?"
"Aiden should be talkin' to you herself, 'f you give her a minute or so. Fifteen, twenty minutes, so finish up fast. None'a your guilt-trippin', Stella."
"What do you mean guilt-tripping, Danny-boy?"
"Stel, I've known you for how many years now? I know whose house you're in, honey."
"Daniel Valentine Messer, if you ever call me that again I will skin you with your own computer keys."
"Er," Danny said. "Middle names. That sounds painful. I'm, um...going now..."
"Smart boy," Hawkes said. "In a temper like this --"
"Stella Bonasera, I am never, ever, ever doing the Mata Hari thing for you again!"
Flack looked up and wished he hadn't.
Stella stood up. "Aiden, come on, it's not that bad, is it?"
"Not that bad?" Aiden said, voice rising dangerously. "Not that bad? Stella, I had to fucking suck Taylor's cock because he was saving the brandy for, get this, post-coital refreshment. Hamilton Taylor, Stella. The guy is old enough to be my grandfather." She stormed across the floor towards Hawkes and held out a hand imperiously toward him. "Give me your coat, Hawkesy. I'm going to be arrested for prostitution if I go out dressed like this."
"But you look good doing it," Hawkes told her solemnly, shrugging off his leather jacket and handing it to her. Flack couldn't take his eyes off the way her hands slid over the leather, not through. She was alive.
Aiden shoved her dark hair out of her face and her arms into the sleeves, ignoring Stella as the other woman went back to the blowtorch and the safe. Her eyes fell on Flack. "Who the hell are you?"
"Detective Don Flack," Flack snapped. "What the hell's goin' on here?"
"It's a very long story," Hawkes said. "We'll look into it. Stella, hurry up."
"Oh, stop your whining," Stella huffed. She turned the blowtorch off and used the tip of it to push at the metal of the safe in front of her, watching the round circle fall inward. "Voila." She reached inside with one hand, held the other out behind her. "Bag, bag, now -- now, Hawkesy!"
Hawkes shoved the black bag into her hand. "You're getting bossier every job," he informed. "I think we should cut your share."
"Oh, I agree," Aiden said fervently, pulling Hawkes' coat tighter around herself. Flack's eyes flicked to the fishnet stockings she was wearing, then up toward her face, studying the hard lines there.
"You try, and you'll be doing this job on your own," Stella snapped, scooping something into the bag.
"Trust me, some days that would be a relief," Aiden said.
The comm crackled again. "Stella?" Danny said. "There was some weird electromagnetic activity and it, uh, messed up my connection with the security cameras. I'm trying to override them -- again, dammit -- but you might want to get out of there."
"Messer, you fix that right now!"
"Stel, I'm workin' on it, I'm workin' on it. I need a little time to work miracles, ya know. Just get your fuckin' ring and get the hell out of there."
Aiden's head swung around to glare accusingly at Stella. "Ring?" she said, voice dangerous. "Ring? Stella, you're not still hung up on that Fed agent, are you -- fuck, you are."
Stella backed out of the safe with a small blue velvet box in her hand. "It's a legitimate job," she said, slipped the box in her pocket, and picked up the blowtorch. She leaned into the safe again.
Hawkes flung one hand dramatically over his eyes. "Oh, not again, sweetcakes."
Flack could hear the hiss of the blowtorch. The stump of his hand was aching beneath the warm metal of his hook. He had the beginnings of a headache gnawing at the space behind his eyes, tenterhooks heated coal-hot and poking hard.
Stella turned out of the safe again, powering down the blowtorch. "All right," she aid, scooping up the bag on the floor. "Let's go. Danny, we're on our way out."
"I'm on it."
She glanced at Flack. "We're bringing someone with us," she added. "Maybe you can make some sense outta him."
It took Flack approximately 1.287 seconds to realize that no, Toto, he wasn't in Kansas anymore. Or New York City, as the case was. Well, he could have still been in New York, but this wasn't what's-his-face's apartment unless he'd had a small mansion hidden in his closet.
Also, he had a killer headache that definitely hadn't been there five minutes ago when Danny had gotten the hinges off the door.
Also, a demon with a mass of brown curls, huge yellow eyes, and a blowtorch was staring at him.
Flack screamed.
A black hand clamped down over his mouth before he could get out more than a squeak and a familiar voice asked, "Where the hell did he come from?"
The yellow eyes resolved into goggles and went up over the brown curls, revealing Stella's face, wide-eyed and with the blowtorch roaring bright blue flames dangerously close to Flack's nose. "You're the smart one, Hawkesy! Isn't it your job to figure that out?"
Hawkesy?
Hawkes held up his free hand. "Sweetcheeks, I'm just here to blow stuff up and you know it."
Sweetcheeks? Either he was in a parallel dimension or hallucinating, and unless someone got naked real soon this hallucination was going to go somewhere Flack didn't like. "Mmmpphhgh," he said.
Disappointingly, Stella showed no sign whatsoever of taking off any part of her clothes. None of which she had been wearing five minutes ago, none of which was any part whatsoever of her NYPD dress uniform. Not that Flack had ever thought of Stella in her dress uniform.
Or with a whip. And handcuffs.
Flack bit down on Hawkes' hand. Hard. Which had the unfortunate effect of forcing it directly into the flame of the blowtorch and Hawkes let go abruptly. "Bloody --!"
Flack skittered sideways. "What the hell's goin' on here, huh? Huh? Stel?"
Hawkes, sucking on his injured hand, glanced up at Stella. "You know this guy, sweetcheeks?"
"I have never seen him in my life." Stella glared at him, blue flames still roaring around her face. "And I'm busy here. We have a very limited window and I'm not letting some hotshot interloper -- Hawkes, just watch him, we can take him with us as soon as --"
"Kidnapping's a capital crime, that's probably not a --"
"He popped out of a mirror!" Stella said. "Window! Limited! Drugs! Wear off! Danny, how are we looking on time?"
Flack glanced around. Danny was nowhere in sight and he'd never seen this place in his life. Nice study though. Kind of like the things you found on the Upper West Side, when he'd worked cases there.
There was a crackle like static and Danny's voice came through, tinny and a little distorted. "Stel, my readings got all thrown off for a minute there. Somethin' happen? You blow a fuse or somethin'?"
Stella looked at Flack. "You could say that," she said. "How much time? Have you heard anything from Aiden yet?"
"Aiden should be talkin' to you herself, 'f you give her a minute or so. Fifteen, twenty minutes, so finish up fast. None'a your guilt-trippin', Stella."
"What do you mean guilt-tripping, Danny-boy?"
"Stel, I've known you for how many years now? I know whose house you're in, honey."
"Daniel Valentine Messer, if you ever call me that again I will skin you with your own computer keys."
"Er," Danny said. "Middle names. That sounds painful. I'm, um...going now..."
"Smart boy," Hawkes said. "In a temper like this --"
"Stella Bonasera, I am never, ever, ever doing the Mata Hari thing for you again!"
Flack looked up and wished he hadn't.
Stella stood up. "Aiden, come on, it's not that bad, is it?"
"Not that bad?" Aiden said, voice rising dangerously. "Not that bad? Stella, I had to fucking suck Taylor's cock because he was saving the brandy for, get this, post-coital refreshment. Hamilton Taylor, Stella. The guy is old enough to be my grandfather." She stormed across the floor towards Hawkes and held out a hand imperiously toward him. "Give me your coat, Hawkesy. I'm going to be arrested for prostitution if I go out dressed like this."
"But you look good doing it," Hawkes told her solemnly, shrugging off his leather jacket and handing it to her. Flack couldn't take his eyes off the way her hands slid over the leather, not through. She was alive.
Aiden shoved her dark hair out of her face and her arms into the sleeves, ignoring Stella as the other woman went back to the blowtorch and the safe. Her eyes fell on Flack. "Who the hell are you?"
"Detective Don Flack," Flack snapped. "What the hell's goin' on here?"
"It's a very long story," Hawkes said. "We'll look into it. Stella, hurry up."
"Oh, stop your whining," Stella huffed. She turned the blowtorch off and used the tip of it to push at the metal of the safe in front of her, watching the round circle fall inward. "Voila." She reached inside with one hand, held the other out behind her. "Bag, bag, now -- now, Hawkesy!"
Hawkes shoved the black bag into her hand. "You're getting bossier every job," he informed. "I think we should cut your share."
"Oh, I agree," Aiden said fervently, pulling Hawkes' coat tighter around herself. Flack's eyes flicked to the fishnet stockings she was wearing, then up toward her face, studying the hard lines there.
"You try, and you'll be doing this job on your own," Stella snapped, scooping something into the bag.
"Trust me, some days that would be a relief," Aiden said.
The comm crackled again. "Stella?" Danny said. "There was some weird electromagnetic activity and it, uh, messed up my connection with the security cameras. I'm trying to override them -- again, dammit -- but you might want to get out of there."
"Messer, you fix that right now!"
"Stel, I'm workin' on it, I'm workin' on it. I need a little time to work miracles, ya know. Just get your fuckin' ring and get the hell out of there."
Aiden's head swung around to glare accusingly at Stella. "Ring?" she said, voice dangerous. "Ring? Stella, you're not still hung up on that Fed agent, are you -- fuck, you are."
Stella backed out of the safe with a small blue velvet box in her hand. "It's a legitimate job," she said, slipped the box in her pocket, and picked up the blowtorch. She leaned into the safe again.
Hawkes flung one hand dramatically over his eyes. "Oh, not again, sweetcakes."
Flack could hear the hiss of the blowtorch. The stump of his hand was aching beneath the warm metal of his hook. He had the beginnings of a headache gnawing at the space behind his eyes, tenterhooks heated coal-hot and poking hard.
Stella turned out of the safe again, powering down the blowtorch. "All right," she aid, scooping up the bag on the floor. "Let's go. Danny, we're on our way out."
"I'm on it."
She glanced at Flack. "We're bringing someone with us," she added. "Maybe you can make some sense outta him."