Hell-A, pt. 3
By Mice
"Go away."
"Can't. I bought shoes for this. It's a commitment."
"Go away."
"Did you not see the shoes? These are office shoes!"
"Go away."
"They have little bows on the toes! I have no where else to wear these shoes!"
"Go away."
Jubilee frowned at the consistent Bobby Drake. "I know what you're thinking."
"Do you?"
"Yes, and aside from the pervy lovefest you're imagining between you and your red headed dolls-"
"Action figures."
"You think that I was sent here because Warren thought you were incompetent."
Bobby glowered. He hadn't glowered before, but he took notes on Angel. He was a good one to learn glowering from.
"To which I say, to hell what Warren thinks! Warren is an idiot! And he's paying for us both to live in L.A. for a company he forgot he owned."
Bobby shrugged. "That's not so dumb."
"No, but this is: get this, Betsy's alive."
"So far, this is perfectly believable."
"Yeah, I know. But she's back to being classic Betsy and I'm back to being the token Asian hottie."
"That's a sad day for the X-Men when you're the token-"
"It took four hours to convince Warren that it was Betsy."
"Well, that sounds reasonable, given that-"
"Wolvie knew right away."
"He's Wolverine."
"Jean knew."
"Jean's Jean."
"Scott knew."
"Scott knew?"
"Right away."
"And Warren didn't?"
"Warren forgot that Betsy was white."
"Understandable - that took some time for me to understand-"
"And blonde."
"She's back to being blonde?"
"Is there supposed to be a salon right there from when you come back from the dead?"
"I don't know and at this rate, I'll never find out."
"Anyways, Warren was being a dick about the whole thing, insisting that it wasn't his Betsy."
"What convinced him?"
"Carpet samples."
"'Carpet samples'?"
"To match the curtains...?"
Bobby blushed. "Oh."
"She dragged him by the ear to Hank's lab to prove to him that it was her."
"But, wait, he thought that she wasn't blonde-"
"But we'll get to Warren's broken nose later."
"Later?"
"I have photos in the bottom of my suitcase."
"I told Hank that having a camera in the lab would come in handy one day. What convinced Warren?"
"When Betsy kicked him."
"In the nose?"
"In the carpet samples."
"I see." Bobby leaned back in his chair to take it all in. "Warren is a dope, isn't he?"
"The dopiest."
"We're getting living expenses on top of salaries -"
"I have a wardrobe allowance."
"Investigating a company for something that I'm assuming neither of us has a clue about-"
"All I know is that he said "wardrobe allowance" and everything else sounded like "blah blah blah"."
"Well if Warren thinks we're so incompetent-"
"Actually, it was just you at the time."
"But it will be "we" soon."
"Point."
"If he thinks we're so incompetent, we should make him pay." Bobby sat up from his desk, his hand held high in the air.
Jubilee sprung up to join him. "Yeah!"
"Dearly!"
"Yes!"
"...but I already have the car..."
"And these are Jimmy Choo shoes."
"Can you think of any way to make this better?"
"Not off the top of my head."
"We really are incompetent."
"It's still you at this point."
-2-
Wesley walked slowly to his office in Research, taking in different people bustling in their respective areas. He was determined to put the problem that was Robert Drake out of his mind and focus on more positive things. Such things included a new arrival of a tome that no one could even translate the title of. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but it the thought of it made him tingle.
He turned a corner and began to slowly smile at the thought when he felt someone smack into his chest. "Pardon me." He looked down and found two, bright blue eyes staring up at him.
"Are you Wyndham-Pryce?"
His tingle went away.
"Yes."
He swore he saw her leg twitch and that if he had the hearing of a dog, a very high pitch squeal.
"My name is..." She paused for a second to take in his rugged, manly charms. She needed to make an impression. A lasting one.
-3-
Bobby and Wesley continued to stare at each other. Bobby was determined not to speak. That and he forgot why Wesley came into his office, but he was going to be damned if he was going to show incompetence.
"Robert?"
Bobby smiled victoriously inside. "Yes?"
"You never answered my question."
"Didn't I?" He smiled knowingly.
"...no. You didn't. Now answer me, why is it that there is a tiny Chinese girl following me everywhere I go who insists that she's Elisabeth Braddock?"
"Well, how do know for a fact that she-"
"Elisabeth Braddock is 5'11". This girl belongs in the Lollypop Guild with the other munchkins."
"I was going to say that how do you know she's following you?"
"Her shoes make noise. And I keep seeing the bows on top of her shoes hiding behind curtains. And I keep hearing her giggle after I speak."
"That doesn't mean she's following you."
"Stalking me, then!"
"Well, she's not here now..."
"She's right behind you."
"She is?"
"We came in together."
"I've never known Elisabeth to remain silent for so long."
"I think that's because she's nearly drooling on your head."
Bobby quickly looked up. Jubilee's eyes were glazed over, but there was no threat of drool.
"Is there anything else, Wesley?"
"Yes, tell me who this is."
"I already told ya," Jubilee spoke up. "Elisabeth "Betsy" Braddock, former daughter of Britain."
"Elisabeth Braddock isn't Asian."
"Didn't you hear the rumors of surgery? Don't you think that they could be true?"
"You're too short."
"Have you ever heard of a five foot eleven Asian?" Jubilee clapped her hands. "Oh, I do think we have some prejudice in the workplace."
Wesley stopped for a second. "You're working here?"
"Mr. Worthington appointed me as a research assistant in the research department."
"That's my department."
Jubilee bounced up and down, clapping her hands giddily - some would say evilly. "I know!"
"You are not Elisabeth Braddock! You are not my Betsy!"
"You're Warren Worthington's girlfriend!" Bobby pointed at Jubilee and laughed. There was also some dancing, but it's best not mentioned.
"What?!" Jubilee went pale.
"Tell me, Betsy, how is your little vanilla cookie man?"
"Warren is not my cookie man!"
"Oh, that's right, you're British - I meant to say is how is your little vanilla biscuit man?"
-4-
"And this do-hickey hickey do??" Lorne asked, cell phone ready at hand. As soon as he saw Fred take a huge breath, he made the phone handier.
"It takes an object and measures its movement. It's like the speed guns used to track fast balls in baseball - "
"Except?"
"Except that mine also makes toast."
"I've wondered when that modern convenience would come into being."
Fred grinned as she aimed her do hickey towards the research department. "Let's see what we can track-"
At that moment, the new head department came flying out, huge grin on his terrified face.
"Wonder what that's all about?"
Fred smiled. "Ten miles per hour!"
Then, a black flying object whizzed by, narrowly missing Fred and Lorne, but not Gunn's hand.
"I can't believe you caught that."
"Well," Gunn began, trying not to wince in the slightest as he examined the object. "I didn't so much as catch it as I was trying to avert it from my face. What is this? It has little bow things on the point here..."
Fred grinned and grabbed it. "Shoes!"
Lorne grinned and grabbed it. "Jimmy Choos!"
A short Asian girl jumped up and grabbed it. "Head of accounting - where'd he go?"
All three pointed to the stairs.
Then they took a step back.
Wesley came up to join the three, a look of pale horror on his face.
"Wes?" Lorne asked. "Can you shed any light on this?"
Wesley nodded.
They waited.
"Wes?" Lorne asked. "Are you going to shed any light on this?"
"Apparently, that girl is Elisabeth Braddock."
Lorne looked at him for a moment before turning to his phone. Gunn and Fred, not being interested in models, left for their respective posts.
Wesley looked at Lorne expectantly as he got off the phone. "Well?"
"It's sad but true."
Wesley resigned himself. "So that's my Betsy."
"What?" Lorne shook his head. "I called to see if the rumor was true about "Baby Geniuses 3". Do you want me to look into the Elizabeth Braddock situation?"
"Elisabeth, Lorne," Wesley corrected.
"That's what I said."
"I could hear the "z"."
Lorne patted Wesley on the back before leaving. "You're a good example of why schools should be co-ed, Wes."
-5-
Deep in the bowels of Wolfram and Hart are...well, there are bowels, because it's Wolfram and Hart and it's just that creepy. But a little to the side and a bit further down...in the pancreas of Wolfram and Hart, there lies a terror of Sumarian origin. Sumarian, of course, because it was the first civilization to document this torture in particular. A torture so horrible that the name of it would send decent folk screaming.
"I'll do anything you want, please, just don't make me-"
"YOU HAVE NO CHOICE."
"But I can't! I can't take it anymore! If I hear one more beep, I'm going to go insane!"
Beep.
"God, I hate inventory!"
Tsaxthouggha looked at his progress - his hostages had risen to the number of six. Each had a pained look on their face - a sure sign that he was doing his demon best.
"Is this our punishment for going over an hour on our lunch break? Because
it's really not our fault! The sandwich place on the corner takes forever
to make a simple turkey on whole wheat."
"Oh, God, I want a turkey sandwich. Textooga?"
"TSAXTHOUGGHA."
"Yeah, whatever. Look, Tex, could you get us some food?"
"YOU WANT ME TO GET YOU SANDWICHES?"
"Well, whenever I've done inventory, the company always bought us lunch.
The other five hostages nodded in agreement.
"IF I GET YOU SANDWICHES, WILL YOU WORK FASTER? I REQUIRE THAT THE INVENTORY BE COMPLETED BY THE 15TH, OTHERWISE, I SHALL NEVER BE ABLE TO RISE TO POWER..."
"Will we get our paychecks?"
"YES."
"Before you sacrifice us?"
"DO YOU WANT SANDWICHES OR NOT?"
-6-
Andrew tapped his foot impatiently at the Brown Paper Bag sandwich shop. Bobby had entrusted him to get a big sandwich - the kind with the drippy sauce and spicy peppers. Bobby had also entrusted him to get chips - this place was notorious for not giving chips with sandwiches. Since the only thing Andrew had done that day was to list one of the old contestants of American Idol on the Internet Movie Data Base as a "Klingon Goat Eater" on Star Trek, he was looking forward to his mission. The only problem was the guy in front of him. Inevitably, he always got behind the guy who had several orders.
"NO, I REQUIRE A TURKEY SANDWICH, NO LETTUCE AND MAYONAISE ON WHEAT, TWO HAM SANDWICHES ON WHITE, A TUNA FISH-"
"We're out of tuna fish."
"BUT I NEED A TUNA FISH SANDWICH."
"Not my problem."
The man turned to Andrew, and Andrew couldn't help but notice how unmanlike he was. Like, for one, men usually have two eyeballs located on their forehead. Andrew was quite sure that his eyeballs had a duel function of being eyeballs and nipples. He felt vaguely dirty.
"I REQUIRE THE USE OF YOUR CELL PHONE."
"Is it local?"
"I THINK SO."
Andrew handed his cell phone over.
"I CAN'T PUSH THE BUTTONS."
"Why not?"
"I HAVE LARGE, SAUSAGELIKE TENTACLES."
Andrew punched in the number for him.
"COULD YOU ASK MARISSA WHAT SHE WANTS INSTEAD OF TUNA FISH?"
"You have ears."
"...IN MY PANTS."
Andrew decided to keep the phone.
-7-
Bobby clapped his hands at the sight of his sandwich. "Are there chips?"
Andrew tossed a bag onto Bobby's desk.
"Why is my bag of chips covered with an ooze?"
"It's a funny story-"
"-and is this a laser burn?"
"Not as such," Andrew explained as he pointed to the hole. "That's actually an organic laser...I forget the formal name of it...
"The ooze is because this guy in front of me in line almost took all the chips, but I remembered that you entrusted me to get your chips, and I wasn't going to let you down!"
Bobby picked up his chips once more before looking at Andrew. "So...the ooze...?"
"Also organic-"
Bobby flung them across the room in a panic.
"-mayonnaise. It's organic mayonnaise. The guy in front of me and I went at it in the condiments section for the chips. I poked a pickle in his eye and he backed off." Andrew bounced and held his arms up in victory - he paused briefly only to put his hand in his pocket to withdraw the eye and place it on Bobby's desk.
Bobby opened his mouth. Then he closed it. There was absolutely nothing else he could add. "Thank you...Andrew. Go and take lunch."
"I'll be back soon-"
"No. No, take an hour..."
"Are you sure you won't need me before then?"
"Positive."
-9-
Angel burst into Wesley's office. "Wes?" He looked around to find it startlingly deserted. "We have a bit of an emergency..."
"What kind?" a muffled voice shouted.
Angel looked around, trying to find the source. "We have company."
"A demon?"
Angel shrugged. "Some might say..." He looked behind a potted plant. "Where, uh...where are you?"
Wesley landed on the floor with a magnificent thud.
Angel turned his focus towards the ceiling. "You were up there?"
"Protective measures."
"Against?"
"A new girl in my department."
Angel glowered. "I met her."
Wesley's heart leapt to his chest - if she had met Angel, perhaps his rugged undead manly brooding charms that women loved so much would wow the faux-Betsy. "What happened?"
"She somehow super glued Harmony's nails to her keyboard...and asked what your favorite scone was."
Wesley cursed silently.
"Look, I'd love to talk about this all day, but we have a problem and you have to make sure Spike is very, very far away from it.
-10-
"I thought she was a model."
"I am a model."
"I thought you were supposed to be British."
"I'm totally British."
"Weren't you supposed to be blonde? I distinctly remember you being blonde. And not Asian."
"Typical American." Jubilee eyed her company. "Funny - I haven't been here long, but I do have a few quibbles with your story."
"I am unquibbicle!"
"No, what you are is underweight - you can't expect me to believe that you fight the forces of evil with arms that starving kids in Ethiopa wouldn't envy."
Buffy pouted. "My arms are not skinny! My arms are fierce weapons of ferocity!"
Jubilee took off her jacket to expose her...well, not alarmingly buff arms, but a well toned ones. "Then we are throwing down."
"Excuse me?"
"A friendly throw down." Jubilee kicked off her heels. "You win, I don't make fun of your skinny little girl arms."
Buffy smiled. "And I get your shoes."
Jubilee opened her mouth in protest, but then decided against it. She was sure she could take the Slayer that Pig #1 made of straw. "Fine. If I win..." Jubilee hadn't thought this out. She'd mostly just like to gloat that she took on a supernatural force of nature - albeit, one she just learned about an hour ago after reading some material about it in her department. But if her shoes were at stake..."If I win, you get me a date with Wesley Wyndham-Price."
Buffy laughed. "Oh, please. Wesley Wyndham-Price would date a piece of wood, provided it had breasts - wait, breasts would be just a bonus. Wood would be enough for Wesley Wyndham-Price."
Fred walked in. "What's this about Wesley?"
Jubilee motioned to Buffy. "The Slayer of the Forces of Evil Who Are Afraid of Little Girl Arms and I are going to throw down. Wanna ref?"
Fred shrugged. She had no idea who these people were, but was accustomed to various women in the building fighting over whether or not Wesley was gay. "Go ahead."
Buffy started the attack. "My arms are NOT SKINNY!"
-11-
"Look, if she's here, you can't keep her away from me."
Angel rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, I spent all my time physically restraining Buffy to keep her away from you that I only have the strength to roll my eyes at you."
"I know you're only half lyin'."
"Besides, what do you think you're going to do if she sees you? Float like bunnies? Have hot, dirty, athletic phases through objects?"
"Face it, mate. Buffy'll want to see me. If not as much, than more than she'll want to see you."
Wesley and Fred entered the office slowly. Wesley encouraged Fred to speak. "Uhm, I don't think Buffy will even recognize both of you."
Angel and Spike just stared at her.
Fred tried to think of an explanation. Finally, she came up with one that was good enough. "There's been an accident." Beautiful.
Wesley winced. "What I think Fred is trying to say is, "There's been a terrifically magnificent fight between Betsy Braddock and Buffy Sommers, and it appears that not only is Ms. Braddock the winner, but Ms. Sommers is out for the count."
Angel got up. "What?"
"It's true - Betsy got a lucky hit when Buffy fell on the table and I said it was legal."
Wesley winced again. "I think Fred also neglected to say that she...refereed the entire ordeal."
Fred glared at Wesley. "And I think what no one has neglected to tell Wesley is that he now has to go out on a date with Betsy."
"What?"
"That was the agreement. Betsy would stop saying that Buffy had skinny arms and give her her shoes, and Buffy would get you a date with you. She said it would be pretty easy."
Angel moved to the door. "Where is she?"
"She's up in the lab, resting."
Spike got up to follow. "I'm going to clock-wait, did you say Betsy Braddock? As in..." Spike made a crude hand gesture around his chest area. "...Betsy Braddock?"
Angel glowered. "The rumors about the Asian plastic surgery are true."
"Bollocks!"
"She is NOT Elisabeth Braddock!"
"Whatever she is," Angel said before leaving for the lab, "She knocked out Buffy - lucky shot or no. That makes her worth looking into."