Doing what bloody needs to be done. From huntedmerciless
Couldn't bloody stand waiting in here this entire sodding time. Cop or two came in and the fact that I had a stolen car made me bloody wary about being here right now.
Couldn't stop thinking about Buffy. Couldn't help her here and couldn't be sure, but if Xavier used the mojo on her, then they were probably in Paris, or Brussels, sodding halway around the world from me...and here I was...here I was sodding trapped, in a dank, stinky, dilapidated bloody parking garage in Albuequerque, escaping the sun and not at all helping my lover.
Got out of the Corvette. It was a sweet ride, but it was hotter then a virgin's honeypot and I couldn't stay near it anymore and besides, there were better things for me to look for. This, I had learned, was the parking garage for some insurance firm, and there had to be a big-wig that bloody liked to ride in style. Bloody had to be, but after a half an hour of more stressing about Buffy and smoking the last of my Marlboro's, I was no closer to at least getting to bloody Seaside where the others could help me get to Buffy.
Luckily, a Limo pulled up and a driver let some old, gray man out of the car. He started to pull away, but I stepped in his way, in the guise of asking for a smoke. Amazingly, the ponce stopped, though either bloody way, I was going to stop him, I just prayed that I didn't have to break the window of the limo, which would allow the sun in.
Asked the moron for a light and when he went for one, he got a face full of my fist and while he was now unconscious, I pulled him out of the car and tossed him to the ground, before getting in and slowly driving away to avoid suspicion.
Once back on the open road again, I looked down at the gas gauge and prayed that I could make it to sodding California before I ran out. These types of limousines had two gas tanks and both appeared to be full. That was a sodding break in a chain of events that otherwise swung from a tree.
I sped away at lightning speeds, regretting that this machine didn't ride as quickly as the corvette. This cumbersome boat was going to burn gas and drive like a tank. Still, I didn't slow my speeds, and increased them, seeing only Buffy in my brain as I drove west in the heat of the day, protected, yet burning up both physically and mentally.
Couldn't stop thinking about Buffy. Couldn't help her here and couldn't be sure, but if Xavier used the mojo on her, then they were probably in Paris, or Brussels, sodding halway around the world from me...and here I was...here I was sodding trapped, in a dank, stinky, dilapidated bloody parking garage in Albuequerque, escaping the sun and not at all helping my lover.
Got out of the Corvette. It was a sweet ride, but it was hotter then a virgin's honeypot and I couldn't stay near it anymore and besides, there were better things for me to look for. This, I had learned, was the parking garage for some insurance firm, and there had to be a big-wig that bloody liked to ride in style. Bloody had to be, but after a half an hour of more stressing about Buffy and smoking the last of my Marlboro's, I was no closer to at least getting to bloody Seaside where the others could help me get to Buffy.
Luckily, a Limo pulled up and a driver let some old, gray man out of the car. He started to pull away, but I stepped in his way, in the guise of asking for a smoke. Amazingly, the ponce stopped, though either bloody way, I was going to stop him, I just prayed that I didn't have to break the window of the limo, which would allow the sun in.
Asked the moron for a light and when he went for one, he got a face full of my fist and while he was now unconscious, I pulled him out of the car and tossed him to the ground, before getting in and slowly driving away to avoid suspicion.
Once back on the open road again, I looked down at the gas gauge and prayed that I could make it to sodding California before I ran out. These types of limousines had two gas tanks and both appeared to be full. That was a sodding break in a chain of events that otherwise swung from a tree.
I sped away at lightning speeds, regretting that this machine didn't ride as quickly as the corvette. This cumbersome boat was going to burn gas and drive like a tank. Still, I didn't slow my speeds, and increased them, seeing only Buffy in my brain as I drove west in the heat of the day, protected, yet burning up both physically and mentally.