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Live Another Night

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Summary: Secret agent Jinx Jordan needs help from a former British Intelligence agent -- Wesley Wyndam-Price.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Movies > James Bond(Past Donor)DeanieFR1822,3390132,7124 Jun 0316 Mar 06No

Live Another Night

Title: Live Another Night
Author: Deanie
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Angel/James Bond: Die Another Day
Disclaimer: Wesley and the AI crew belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
Jinx and the James Bond universe belong to MGM/UA, and whoever the heck else owns 'em.
Author's Note: For Angel, takes place third season, while Connor is still a baby and Lorne's the usual babysitter.
Inspired when watching "Die Another Day."


Just another boring day at Angel Investigations. Cordelia sighed, silently urging the phone to ring. They could use a client -- preferably a paying client, though at this point she was so bored she'd even settle for a non-paying client. Hell, she'd settle for one of her screaming pain-fest vision headaches right about now.

The door opened with a crash as a black woman rushed in. She was beautiful, with close-cropped black hair and sparkling brown eyes. She sort of reminded Cordy of the woman who played Storm in the X-Men movies, only sans white wig.

Cordelia continued her perusal of the woman, taking in her expertly-tailored clothes and expensive pumps. Cordy smiled. This was a woman with money.

The client ran up to the counter and stopped, gasping breathlessly. "Wesley Wyndam-Price. I need Wesley Wyndam-Price."

Wesley? This gorgeous, rich lady knew Wesley? Boggles the mind, Cordy thought. "Sure, we can get you an appointment to see Mr. Wyndham-Price. In fact, I think he may be available right now." Cordelia gave the woman her best winning smile, trying to act like an executive assistant, or whatever they called high-class secretaries these days. "I'm his associate, Ms. Chase. I can see if he's free for you."

Jinx's brown eyes widened. Was this chick for real? She only hoped Wyndam-Price really was here and the perky brunette wasn't just handing her a line. "Hurry," she urged. She didn't know how much of a head start she had, but she had to get to her target before they did.

The door swung open again, but this time, two men in suits stood there.

Cordelia smiled broadly. Armani. When it rained, it poured. "Hi, welcome to Angel Investigations, where we help the helpless."

The seer's smile fell as the two well-dressed men pulled machine guns from behind their backs and pointed them at her and her new client. "What the--"

"Get down!" the black woman yelled, diving behind the counter and pulling Cordelia with her.

Guns! Cordelia gasped, seeing the bullet holes hitting the walls behind the counter. "Someone's shooting at us!"

The woman smiled. "Well, technically, someone's shooting at me. You're just in the way." She pulled a handgun out from the small of her back. "But we can take care of that."

She whipped up from behind the counter, expertly sighting her target. She fired off a round, hitting the nearest shooter point-blank in the chest. She ducked back behind her cover as the other man began firing again.

The sound of gunfire brought the others running from upstairs. Fred poked her head around the corner, then ducked back as the gunman fired up her way. "This is not good," the physicist murmured. If only Angel were here, instead of out on the streets fighting evil. When facing armed men, it was nice to have a friend who was bulletproof. Good thing Lorne and baby Connor seemed to be keeping well out of sight.

Gunn ran up behind her, and Fred stopped him before he could move any further than where she was standing. "There's a strange man with a semi-automatic weapon shooting up the lobby. You might want to wait here, seeing how you're unarmed," she advised.

"Cordy!" Gunn shouted, resisting as Fred pulled him back in response to the next hail of gunfire. Their friend was down there -- like hell he was waiting here.

"Charles, you can't do anything without weapons, and right now the crazy man with a gun is standing in front of our weapons locker." She looked up at her ex-boyfriend. "I care about Cordelia, too, but getting ourselves killed isn't going to help anyone. We have to figure out another way to get down there and help Cordy."

"We can go down the fire escape and come in around the back," Gunn suggested. "My truck's 's parked out back and we still have the crossbows from last night left in it."

Fred shuddered. Crossbows versus semi-automatic weapons. "We are so screwed," she muttered, following Charles to the fire escape.

Wesley had grabbed his guns at the first sign of gunfire. Something was seriously wrong downstairs, and Cordelia was most likely in grave danger -- if not already dead. But who would come into the Hyperion with guns? Their only known enemies were Wolfram and Hart, and they knew that Angel was a vampire, and therefore not able to be killed by bullets.

He surveyed the hallway. No sign of Gunn and Fred. He hoped the two had the sense to stay out of the line of fire. Unfortunately, that was one thing he wasn't able to do -- not now, not with Cordelia in danger.

He quietly stuck a mirror around the corner, trying to get a look at their assailants. One gunman, with an HK-47. One more body sprawled out on the floor, likely the attacker's partner. No sign of anyone else. Hopefully Cordelia had dived for cover behind the counter when the shooting had started and was safe.

He pulled a small plastic bag out of his pocket. The herbs, once combined with fire, would make a nice cover of smoke.

He gently tossed a cloud of herbs onto the landing in front of the stairs. He used the mirror to site the gunman -- he still hadn't noticed anything amiss from upstairs. Perfect. Wesley grasped his gun in his right hand, striking a match with his left.

He tossed the match into the hallway. As the herbs caught fire and the smoke began to form, the man downstairs started shooting. Wesley knew he'd only have one chance to get this right. He took a deep breath and dived through the cloud of smoke, hitting the ground at a roll. In one smooth motion, he lay flat on the ground, aimed his gun, and had gotten the shot off before the gunman was the wiser.

Wesley lay flat on the ground, surveying the floor below him. While he'd taken care of the visible gunman, who knew what was lurking in the shadows?

A head slowly peeked out from behind the counter. The person was a black woman, Wesley noted, who was holding her gun like someone to which it had become second nature. But where was Cordelia?

"All clear," he heard the woman say as she extended a hand down to behind the counter.

Cordelia, with dust in her hair and a stunned expression on her face, climbed up from underneath the counter. "What the hell was that?" she asked, whirling on the black woman. "And who the hell are you?"

Wesley, seeing that Cordy was unhurt and everything was seemingly calm, had made his way down the stairs. He stopped and aimed his gun at the woman. "That's what I'd like to know."

Jinx smiled. Finally, the man she was looking for. "Wesley Wyndam-Price, I presume?"

The ex-Watcher nodded. "And who might you be?"

"Giacinta Jordan. My friends call me Jinx." She held out her hand.

Wesley stood, unmoving. While her gun was currently aimed at the floor, with her presumed level of expertise, he knew she could shoot both he and Cordelia in seconds.

"Who are you?" he asked, more forcefully this time.

"Giacinta Jordan. NSA."

National Security Agency. She was a federal spy. But what was she doing here?

Then she said the words that caused his world to drop out from beneath his feet. "M sent me."
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