In the Arms of the Angel, 1/?
Title: In the Arms of the Angel, Prologue
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 1,645
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Summary: While investigating a strange relic just over the Utah-Arizona border, the guys suddenly and unwittingly become involved in a deadly chase and race against time. And Scott's nightmares about Elliott just may come true....
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort when complete.
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
In the Arms of the Angel
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: The characters from the show are not mine. The other characters and the story are mine! It was initially inspired by a couple of RPs putting various twists on a particular plot device. And the idea to write it as a full-length story would not be quiet. The prompt Courage from 10 Hurt Comfort has assisted, too. Of course, fictional Rockapella from the show only. No Real Person fic here! Many thanks to Crystal Rose and Kaze for plot help!
Prologue
The sun was sinking low over the great Western desert, casting stunning colors across the ancient sands and the rock formations. Cacti species that had watched over their domain for years stood proud and tall as their lengthening shadows were cast once again for all to see. Various rodents and reptiles ventured out of their homes, scurrying and slithering through the final red, orange, and purple glows of the twilight and over the shadows of both cacti and large rocks.
The lone figure stood at the mouth of a small cave, his spear ready to defend if need be. He loved watching the striking picture painted by the fading sun. It was one of the times he looked forward to the most as he kept his vigil. He was not afraid of the changing of day to night, or of standing guard in the ensuing darkness. He had been raised near this fascinating world all its own and was familiar with the nighttime desert. It was a friend.
And it was never completely dark; in addition to the moon and star lights, there was always a calm, bluish hue coming from inside the cavern. He turned, glancing inside. The object he was protecting was still on its natural stone stand, glowing and pulsing.
There had not been a problem with anyone attempting to steal it in months---years, even. Sometimes he questioned the need to guard it at all times. Yet one could never know when something might go wrong. His grandfather had taught him to always be prepared. . . .
The ground rumbled under his feet. He gasped, grabbing the side of the red rock wall before balance could be altogether lost. What was this? It could not be an earthquake; the animals would have been fleeing some time ago if that was the case.
Again he looked to the cave. The little but powerful object was pulsating much more violently, rocking the entire structure in which it was housed.
He fell to the ground, the spear clattering beside him. A brilliant flash lit up the night sky for several brief seconds. But then it was gone, the light fading to its normal level of luminescence.
Slowly and with caution he looked up, staring with wide eyes at the sacred artifact. It had become so angry . . . but why? What did it mean?
He stiffened, memories of his grandfather's stories emerging to the forefront of his mind. Could it be? The time when this object would once again be sought after was coming to pass? That was foretold to be a time of great danger, not only to them and their immediate enemies, but to all who tried to assist either side.
He scrambled to his feet, picking up the abandoned spear. After the changing of the guard, he would have to find his grandfather and tell him what had happened. His grandfather would know whether the time was upon them.
And hopefully what it would mean for them.
****
"No! Elliott, don't leave me! Please don't leave me!"
Scott started awake, breathing heavily as he stared up at the ceiling. Through the darkened window, the lights of downtown Manhattan were twinkling, but he barely noticed. His blond curls were plastered against his face and neck, clammy with cold perspiration. His pajamas were likewise clinging to his body.
He threw back the covers and rolled onto his side, staring at the mattress. "That dream again," he whispered.
For the past several nights it was always the same---a weird, unfurling sound, Scott screaming for Elliott not to leave, and a white feather swirling out of the darkness and into Scott's hands. He woke up before he could determine what it was or see Elliott's fate. Having the dream again on the night before they were to embark on a strange case did not help in the least.
He slumped into the pillow, running his fingers through his damp bangs as he looked back to the ceiling. What was the case going to be like? They were going to Arizona to investigate a pendant deep in a cave that had been eroded in one of the famous mesas. The local Native Americans were wary of it, yet felt it was sacred. They claimed it had formed on its own inside the cave many centuries ago. Supposedly it would grant great power, or what one desired most, if the one seeking it was pure of heart. But it could be so easily misused that they had determined it was better to leave it in the cave and set a guard in order to prevent the unworthy from taking it.
"And then it started acting up," Sean had told Scott and Elliott and Barry as he had looked through the report earlier that day. "Glowing weird and shooting out random blasts. They think it means that the thing's upset because some creepies are going to try taking it."
"Such as V.I.L.E.?" Barry had frowned.
"Exactly," Sean had nodded. "Both Kneemoi and Patty have been spotted in the area." And he had smirked. "I'd rather not believe the stone has a mind of its own, but I do believe that V.I.L.E.'s up to no good. The Chief's of the same mind. First thing in the morning, we are out of here and on a plane to the Utah-Arizona border. Jim Pond, a local ACME agent there, and the cousin of a guy who guards the stone, will be our guide."
Scott sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. According to the clock, it was four A.M. They were actually supposed to leave in an hour to catch the plane. And then they would gain two hours, landing in Arizona two hours earlier than whatever time it would be in New York. Maybe he could sleep on the plane. There would not be any point in trying to sleep now.
Not he would be able to anyway. That dream was turning him into an insomniac. The first time he had awakened from it, he had crept out of his room and inched open Elliott's door to make sure he was there. He had only returned to his own room after asserting that El was very much there, sound asleep.
He clicked on the lamp by his bedside, then shuffled across the room to retrieve his suitcase. He might as well start packing.
His hands trembled as he opened the parcel and reached to take some of his clothes off the hangers.
Why would he dream about Elliott leaving? Where would Elliott go? And what significance did the white feather have?
He had not told Elliott, or anyone else, about the nightmares. He wanted to believe the dream had no importance whatsoever. But recurring dreams were not normal. There were reasons behind them. As far as their missions had been going, Elliott had been safe lately. There had not been some traumatizing event that could be thought of as being responsible for Scott's nightmares.
And Elliott had no intention of going anywhere. He wanted to stay with his friends, just as they wanted him with them.
Scott sighed, folding an extra vest and placing it on top of the other clothes he had packed. Maybe there were not any answers for something like this. Maybe he would just have to bear it until it went away.
If it ever did.
He started out of his thoughts at the sound of a knock on the door. "Yeah?" he called, hoping his voice sounded normal.
The door opened and Sean leaned in. "Just checking to see if you were up yet," he greeted. He himself looked like he was still half-asleep---or that he was a zombie on the way to a jamboree. His eyes were glassy, and bloodshot with more lines than a road map. His bleached braids were in disarray, the frayed tips in need of combing. And the ends of his tie were flung over his wrinkled shoulder. He did not seem to notice.
Scott was amused and sympathetic at the same time. "You don't look like you're up yet," he said.
Sean yawned. "Maybe I'll sleep on the flight," he said. "You look like you should, too."
"No kidding." Scott closed the suitcase and set it upright. "Are El and Barry up?" he wondered, crossing the room again to get dressed.
Sean nodded. "All of us feel like the undead today," he smirked. "Even Barry."
Scott started to unbutton his pajama top. "I can imagine how poor El is feeling right now," he said. "He never will be a morning person."
"He's going to be in a fog, that's for sure," Sean said. "Well, I'd better go pack." He started to close the door.
Scott shook his head. "Always leaving things till the last minute," he said.
"It won't take long!" Sean chirped. Closing the door, he headed back to his own room next-door.
Scott listened as the older man's footsteps faded. Sean would probably all but throw a bunch of stuff into his suitcase and slam it shut.
He chuckled to himself, throwing the pajama top across his bed. But there was a melancholy air to his laugh.
He wished he could be as cheery as Sean seemed to feel right now.
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 1,645
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Summary: While investigating a strange relic just over the Utah-Arizona border, the guys suddenly and unwittingly become involved in a deadly chase and race against time. And Scott's nightmares about Elliott just may come true....
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort when complete.
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
In the Arms of the Angel
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: The characters from the show are not mine. The other characters and the story are mine! It was initially inspired by a couple of RPs putting various twists on a particular plot device. And the idea to write it as a full-length story would not be quiet. The prompt Courage from 10 Hurt Comfort has assisted, too. Of course, fictional Rockapella from the show only. No Real Person fic here! Many thanks to Crystal Rose and Kaze for plot help!
Prologue
The sun was sinking low over the great Western desert, casting stunning colors across the ancient sands and the rock formations. Cacti species that had watched over their domain for years stood proud and tall as their lengthening shadows were cast once again for all to see. Various rodents and reptiles ventured out of their homes, scurrying and slithering through the final red, orange, and purple glows of the twilight and over the shadows of both cacti and large rocks.
The lone figure stood at the mouth of a small cave, his spear ready to defend if need be. He loved watching the striking picture painted by the fading sun. It was one of the times he looked forward to the most as he kept his vigil. He was not afraid of the changing of day to night, or of standing guard in the ensuing darkness. He had been raised near this fascinating world all its own and was familiar with the nighttime desert. It was a friend.
And it was never completely dark; in addition to the moon and star lights, there was always a calm, bluish hue coming from inside the cavern. He turned, glancing inside. The object he was protecting was still on its natural stone stand, glowing and pulsing.
There had not been a problem with anyone attempting to steal it in months---years, even. Sometimes he questioned the need to guard it at all times. Yet one could never know when something might go wrong. His grandfather had taught him to always be prepared. . . .
The ground rumbled under his feet. He gasped, grabbing the side of the red rock wall before balance could be altogether lost. What was this? It could not be an earthquake; the animals would have been fleeing some time ago if that was the case.
Again he looked to the cave. The little but powerful object was pulsating much more violently, rocking the entire structure in which it was housed.
He fell to the ground, the spear clattering beside him. A brilliant flash lit up the night sky for several brief seconds. But then it was gone, the light fading to its normal level of luminescence.
Slowly and with caution he looked up, staring with wide eyes at the sacred artifact. It had become so angry . . . but why? What did it mean?
He stiffened, memories of his grandfather's stories emerging to the forefront of his mind. Could it be? The time when this object would once again be sought after was coming to pass? That was foretold to be a time of great danger, not only to them and their immediate enemies, but to all who tried to assist either side.
He scrambled to his feet, picking up the abandoned spear. After the changing of the guard, he would have to find his grandfather and tell him what had happened. His grandfather would know whether the time was upon them.
And hopefully what it would mean for them.
****
"No! Elliott, don't leave me! Please don't leave me!"
Scott started awake, breathing heavily as he stared up at the ceiling. Through the darkened window, the lights of downtown Manhattan were twinkling, but he barely noticed. His blond curls were plastered against his face and neck, clammy with cold perspiration. His pajamas were likewise clinging to his body.
He threw back the covers and rolled onto his side, staring at the mattress. "That dream again," he whispered.
For the past several nights it was always the same---a weird, unfurling sound, Scott screaming for Elliott not to leave, and a white feather swirling out of the darkness and into Scott's hands. He woke up before he could determine what it was or see Elliott's fate. Having the dream again on the night before they were to embark on a strange case did not help in the least.
He slumped into the pillow, running his fingers through his damp bangs as he looked back to the ceiling. What was the case going to be like? They were going to Arizona to investigate a pendant deep in a cave that had been eroded in one of the famous mesas. The local Native Americans were wary of it, yet felt it was sacred. They claimed it had formed on its own inside the cave many centuries ago. Supposedly it would grant great power, or what one desired most, if the one seeking it was pure of heart. But it could be so easily misused that they had determined it was better to leave it in the cave and set a guard in order to prevent the unworthy from taking it.
"And then it started acting up," Sean had told Scott and Elliott and Barry as he had looked through the report earlier that day. "Glowing weird and shooting out random blasts. They think it means that the thing's upset because some creepies are going to try taking it."
"Such as V.I.L.E.?" Barry had frowned.
"Exactly," Sean had nodded. "Both Kneemoi and Patty have been spotted in the area." And he had smirked. "I'd rather not believe the stone has a mind of its own, but I do believe that V.I.L.E.'s up to no good. The Chief's of the same mind. First thing in the morning, we are out of here and on a plane to the Utah-Arizona border. Jim Pond, a local ACME agent there, and the cousin of a guy who guards the stone, will be our guide."
Scott sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. According to the clock, it was four A.M. They were actually supposed to leave in an hour to catch the plane. And then they would gain two hours, landing in Arizona two hours earlier than whatever time it would be in New York. Maybe he could sleep on the plane. There would not be any point in trying to sleep now.
Not he would be able to anyway. That dream was turning him into an insomniac. The first time he had awakened from it, he had crept out of his room and inched open Elliott's door to make sure he was there. He had only returned to his own room after asserting that El was very much there, sound asleep.
He clicked on the lamp by his bedside, then shuffled across the room to retrieve his suitcase. He might as well start packing.
His hands trembled as he opened the parcel and reached to take some of his clothes off the hangers.
Why would he dream about Elliott leaving? Where would Elliott go? And what significance did the white feather have?
He had not told Elliott, or anyone else, about the nightmares. He wanted to believe the dream had no importance whatsoever. But recurring dreams were not normal. There were reasons behind them. As far as their missions had been going, Elliott had been safe lately. There had not been some traumatizing event that could be thought of as being responsible for Scott's nightmares.
And Elliott had no intention of going anywhere. He wanted to stay with his friends, just as they wanted him with them.
Scott sighed, folding an extra vest and placing it on top of the other clothes he had packed. Maybe there were not any answers for something like this. Maybe he would just have to bear it until it went away.
If it ever did.
He started out of his thoughts at the sound of a knock on the door. "Yeah?" he called, hoping his voice sounded normal.
The door opened and Sean leaned in. "Just checking to see if you were up yet," he greeted. He himself looked like he was still half-asleep---or that he was a zombie on the way to a jamboree. His eyes were glassy, and bloodshot with more lines than a road map. His bleached braids were in disarray, the frayed tips in need of combing. And the ends of his tie were flung over his wrinkled shoulder. He did not seem to notice.
Scott was amused and sympathetic at the same time. "You don't look like you're up yet," he said.
Sean yawned. "Maybe I'll sleep on the flight," he said. "You look like you should, too."
"No kidding." Scott closed the suitcase and set it upright. "Are El and Barry up?" he wondered, crossing the room again to get dressed.
Sean nodded. "All of us feel like the undead today," he smirked. "Even Barry."
Scott started to unbutton his pajama top. "I can imagine how poor El is feeling right now," he said. "He never will be a morning person."
"He's going to be in a fog, that's for sure," Sean said. "Well, I'd better go pack." He started to close the door.
Scott shook his head. "Always leaving things till the last minute," he said.
"It won't take long!" Sean chirped. Closing the door, he headed back to his own room next-door.
Scott listened as the older man's footsteps faded. Sean would probably all but throw a bunch of stuff into his suitcase and slam it shut.
He chuckled to himself, throwing the pajama top across his bed. But there was a melancholy air to his laugh.
He wished he could be as cheery as Sean seemed to feel right now.