III. And We Meet Again
Angel the Series belongs to Whedon. Mr. & Mrs. Smith belongs to the writers, directors, producers, et al of this blockbuster flick. Other characters not belonging to either fandom? Those are mine -- and also the plot bunny idea for the premise of this fic. Summary:
He was hired to Kill the Man. She was hired to Steal from the Man. PhoenixRae's Notes:
I'm probably gonna be giving Gwen an entirely different background here family-wise. Since her background wasn't really drawn out during her brief appearance on Angel
, I figured I can get away with creating my own spin to her background story and her family.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = III. And We Meet Again
GWEN KNEW, WITHOUT SEEING HIS FACE, who he was. After all this will be the third time they'd met. Their first meeting in Paris was a chance meeting. The second time they met in Vegas was a quirky twist of Fate. And now...well, now she knew it wasn't by accident
that they'd met.
Gwen received an anonymous phone call a couple of nights ago. Since she doesn't have a landline and her cell phone number was for business use only and was given to those whom she worked for in the past and passed on to her next possible employer. She answered the call thinking another one of her former 'clients' recommended her services to another rich person with a lost or stolen item they wanted her to retrieve.
Every nerve and fiber in her body told her not to pick up the call when her phone rang that night. But Gwen was in dire need of another job to keep the cash flow going. Not that she racked up quite a bill by splurging, but she was building a home for herself that required...well, it required some state-of-the-art gadgets that will be friendly to her unique abilities.
Gwen stopped a good foot away. She was clad in all black from head to foot with the exception of the white front of her corset-like to. Her wavy, long raven hair was let loose over her shoulder and her lips were the colour of blood and shiny. She was always dressed to shock and illicit lust from the people she was dealing with; she learned that men were ruled by libidos and would often agree to her demand of a higher pay if shown a package they knew would be worth all that money. But none of them knew she deliberately dressed provocatively for their benefit, and Gwen hated to lower herself to that of a skank, but in this day and age somebody's gotta do something drastic to earn some serious cash.
She waited for her new client to turn. She wouldn't do as much as clear her throat to get his attention. She didn't want to be here, but he offered her a price she couldn't possibly refuse. * * * * *
JOHN SAW HER APPROACH. He caught sight of her approaching through the closed steel elevator doors where he stood waiting for the last five minutes for her to arrive. He was in LA on a job, a job that requires him to have a backup plan in order to infiltrate and take out the man he was commissioned to get rid of.
Her outfit for this evening's meeting was something he'd only thought he'd see in some movie where the women were used as pawns and bribes to get the men's libido going. And his libido was going, all right. Dressed in faux leather black pants that hugged every contour of her body, that corset top nearly spilling those precious bosoms of hers out sure set quite a few men's lust level to overdrive.
She stopped behind him, arms crossed and eyebrow cocked. Her chin was jutted to the air and she looked like she'd rather be anywhere but here.
She wouldn't budge an inch. Stubborn thief,
When he called her the other night en route to LA for this specific job he got the feeling she didn't want anything to do with him. And to be honest he didn't want anything to do with her, but
after he saw what she was capable of doing once she removed those gloves of hers, he knew her help would come in handy for this next job of his.
Turning slowly, with a look of boredom on his face, John faced the woman who would be able to grant him access to one of the most secure building on this block of Los Angeles without any problems, provided her ability to electrocute and short-circuit any piece of equipment or human being would be able to down an entire twenty-five floor office building then he was in much better luck than he hoped.
"Well, well, if it isn't my favourite voluer
," he smiled. "How are you?"
"Cut the crap, Smith, and get right to business," the proud young woman demanded. She looked bored -- very
bored if anybody cared to ask -- and was itching to get away from him.
"And here I thought some niceties are in order," he mumbled and pressed the UP button on the elevator. "Let's talk shop in my room and order some room service, hm?" he grinned and turned his back on her to wait for the elevator doors to open. He caught a glimpse of her through her reflection on the closed elevator doors. Her eyes were shooting daggers at him and if she was capable of doing that he'd be a dead man by now. * * * * *
GWEN WAS CALLING HIM EVERY possible name in the book she could think of. How dare he treat her as if she was some hired tramp up to give him something special on the side? It's your outfit, girl. You shouldn't have dressed up as a skank
, that itty-bitty voice inside her head said.
Gwen clamped down on her growing irritation and followed the man into the elevator. She hated taking elevators as she often caused it to malfunction, but so far she hasn't done anything to it and was thankful. She watched the numbers light up as they made their ascent, ignoring the man standing beside her for as long as she possibly can.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Cocky Mr. Smith stepped out first and she followed. Why he wanted them to talk in his hotel room she had no idea, but she was here on business and whatever it is this SOB wanted her to steal, he was willing to pay her the big bucks for it.
As soon as they were inside his hotel room Gwen didn't waste time and came right out and asked, "Okay, I've played nice long enough, now fess up and tell me what you want," she demanded.
If he was offended at her rudeness Gwen didn't know. He acted as if she hadn't spoken and went about doing his business by first taking off his suit jacket then loosening up his tie. Gwen tried not to follow his movements with her eyes, but somehow she found it impossible to ignore him. He unbuttoned his shirt and she held her breath for the inevitable. If he started undressing in front of her she wouldn't be held responsible for what she was going to do to this man.
She waited until he got partway down on unbuttoning his shirt before holding her hands up and stopped him.
"Wait just one damn second there, bucko," her tone was laced with enough warning to let him know she meant business if he doesn't do what he was told. "I didn't come here for some hanky panky and you damn well know it! You called me because you needed my help. Now if it involves you needing to get off, well you're in shitty luck 'coz I don't do that kinda service, comprendre?
John paused from unbuttoning another button of his shirt. He quirked an eyebrow and held the woman's gaze. She wasn't a pushover, he knew that for certain. But honestly the thought of him sleeping with her hadn't even occurred to him.
Okay, so maybe at one point in the last few weeks thoughts of his raven haired thief manifested in his head, and after feeling her against him even for just a brief moment back in Paris was enough to remind him of how snugly she fit in his arms. But that was besides the point. He only wanted to get rid of this stuffy attire he had to wear in order to pass up as a man of importance while trying to get some inside info on his target.
"Hey, I didn't ask you to meet me here for some of that
." He might as well clear the air while it was early. He had seen her in action and knew he could end up dead if ever she decided to unglove her hands and touch him. "I'm just trying to get comfy, that's all," he shrugged and turned to reach for the hotel phone. He picked up the room service menu list, quickly scanned it before tossing it to his companion. "Pick something you want to eat. I'm buying."
Gwen caught the piece of laminated paper. She has met quite a few jerks in her life, and majority of the men who hired her often made a pass at her, but she always rebuffed them. She only had to electrocute one or two who insisted on cupping a feel, per se, but she made those after
she received payment for her services and kept the item they hired her to retrieve. She briefly scanned the list and didn't bother to read what was on it.
"Just a sub and a cold tall one," was her quip reply and threw the list back at him.
John cocked an eyebrow at her nonchalant attitude and caught the menu list. He turned his back on her and dialed room service. He placed their orders before excusing himself to get changed. It only took him all of five minutes to get out of his sharp suit and in to a pair of comfy sweats and cotton crewneck white T-shirt.
"Okay," he clapped his hands together and rubbed them. "Let's start doing some shop talk while we wait for our food." He propped himself comfortably on the single bed in the room, leaving Gwen to consider whether she should join him on the bed or pull one of the chairs. * * * * *
JOHN SAT BACK WHEN GWEN SURGED up from where she sat across from him in full-on anger mode. They just finished eating their room service dinner and he just explained to her what type of help he needed from her. He thought she'd be more receptive to it, but guess he was wrong.
"You're absolutely out of your fucking mind, you know that?" She yelled at him.
John got up from his bed and stood in front of the raving dark haired woman. He grabbed her by the arms (he made sure he touched the covered parts of her arm and not her skin directly or risk being electrocuted) to stop her from pacing back and forth.
"Look, I wouldn't have asked you if I know you wouldn't be able to help me," he told her.
Gwen pushed his hands off her and shoved him away from her. The look in her eyes was deadly, and once again John felt like he'd be a dead man if her looks could kill.
"You want me to help you kill
my father?" She tried to tamper down her anger. Sure she hadn't spoken to her family since they made damn sure they don't want a freak like her running around with the likes of them and carrying the Raiden name with her to boot, but she held no ill will against them. She resented them for turning their backs on her instead of helping her, but to want one of them dead? She wasn't a cold-blooded killer. She was merely a thief; a high-priced thief, but a thief nevertheless who'd never take anyone's life unless she was otherwise provoked to do so.
John cussed under his breath. He knew when he dug deeper into Gwen Raiden's background after Mr. Raines hired them to do a job for him that their past would definitely
cross. He didn't realize it sooner, though, but when he received the contract assignment to eliminate a certain Francis 'Frank' Raiden he was intrigued. After all the man he was about to send to Kingdom Come had the same last name as the woman who has haunted his mind this past few weeks. He also knew that Gwen has been incommunicado
with the rest of her family since they turned their backs on her after they found out about her uniqueness.
It was far-fetched, really, when he first read about that tidbit on her. But then he saw her in action when they were both hired by Mr. Raines and saw for himself that the files he had on her were true.
"You won't be pulling the trigger on him," he said almost sheepishly.
"And that ought to make a difference?" she huffed. "I haven't spoken to any
of my family members in years and now you contract me to help you steal someone's life
?" She gave him an incredulous look, her eyes wide and he could see traces of anger surfacing.
"Look, your father's a lowlife, scumbag who made his millions by stealing
from others," he pointed out to her. "Now my employers are ticked because he's making money off duping people, people like them
who was double-crossed by your father." He reasoned with her, hoping that she'd understand why he must do what he was hired to do.
Gwen stopped her pacing. She's heard of her father's 'business' simply through grapevine. Some of the people she dealt with over the years were connected to Frank Raiden one way or the other. Money was money; people with power and money often run together.
"I don't care," she told him flat out. "You go do your job your way, but I won't be an accomplice to your killing
my father no matter how much of a jerk he was." She walked out of his room, slamming the door after her and made way for the stairwell. She didn't bother using the elevators knowing that with her emotions right now she'd probably cause the damn thing to malfunction and plunge her and a few others to their deaths.