Are We There Yet? (Non-Journal Entry)
Anyone who has had the experience of traveling a long distance in a single vehicle with their family would most certainly sympathise with our current situation. Anyone who has traveled a long distance with a small group of loosely-associated acquaintances with varying degrees of tolerance or affection for each other in very tight quarters, under a motivation of great duress would know exactly how things were inside that Bombardier BD-700 jet.
It had been a simple thing to assemble the troops, such as they were, and get everyone to the Pendletons' private hangar not far from Heathrow. The ground crew seemed more than accustomed to the prepping of the jet at a moment's notice, getting clearance for it to fly anywhere in the world, all at the whim of the ne'er-do-well scion of the family, the infamous Ana Pendleton, and do it all with a minimum of the kind of fuss that would attract any kindof attention. I'd been exactly right that enlisting the services of Ana's family's jet would prove incalculably useful.
Which led to the exceptionally frustrating question of the whereabouts of Ana herself. Not at the hangar, as we'd agreed upon during our meeting, and all calls to her cell phone went straight on through to her unctously worded voice mail greeting. It's not that I worried for the girl's safety or ours, of course. There was no doubt in my mind that the redoubtable Ms. Pendleton was more than capable of looking out for herself, nor did I expect her to sell the lot of us out to our enemies.
No, my concern was for the fact that this opportunity to aide the right side of such an important confrontation was something that Ana needed desperately, lest her destiny lie in a much darker, even more self-destructive direction. I'd done everything I could in our meeting to impress upon Ana the chance that had been presented to her-- become more than what the world thought one to be, make a difference to every life. To literally save the world.
When she'd left the office, I'd not been entirely convinced that Ana had been entirely convinced, at least of that part of my 'pitch'. She'd agreed to arranging our use of her family's ultra-long-range corporate jet, which would be able to get us from London directly to Las Vegas without refueling. But as for the rest, she'd been purposefully vague about her acquiescence, and about whatever price she might have been considering exacting for the endeavour.
Cursing under my breath after one last attempt to call her from the hangar, I shook my head in a familiar frustration. One more that I couldn't save. Another name to add to the list.
My self-flagellation over the subject didn't stop me from asking Willow to magically sweep the craft for sabotage or anything else unfortunate. Once she'd found nothing, the group piled as best it could into the aircraft, arguing almost immediatly over the shortage of seating for everyone. The bickering had begun before the hatch was closed, and never abated.
While we were in the air, a number of us fretted over the other, even more upsetting absence-- Giles. In Giles' case, though, we were aware of his whereabouts. He'd taken Ethan Rayne and the first airliner out of England to confront Cain on his own and attempt to ensure Genesis' safety. I cursed and admired my old friend in the same breath, and between us all, we hoped we'd find our comrade and friend in good health when we landed.
Despite the constant chatter of everyone in the cabin, despite the arguments and the bravado and the one or two individuals who, deciding that with all of us potentially flinging ourselves headlong into our demise, were encouraging us all to 'go out with a bang' and join the 'mile high club', despite everything that was riding on the motley crew aboard this airplane...
I felt at peace.
I knew where I was going. Knew what I was doing, and why I was doing it.
I knew the fight was right, and that my enemy was evil and my cause was just.
And even if my own armour was long stained and tarnished, it would still do.
The hours sped by until the Bombardier touched the blazing hot tarmac of McCarran International Airport's corporate runway with a screech of tires and the rumble of the jet barrelling down the strip of pavement. We taxied into a hangar that was a near twin of the one we'd left behind in England, and exited the jet only to pile into a trio of hired SUVs, our destination the Luxor Hotel and Casino.
Giles, I thought silently, I hope you're still alive, because you're going to miss a hell of a fight. And Cain, you bastard, as they say in this city... it's time to cash in your chips.
It had been a simple thing to assemble the troops, such as they were, and get everyone to the Pendletons' private hangar not far from Heathrow. The ground crew seemed more than accustomed to the prepping of the jet at a moment's notice, getting clearance for it to fly anywhere in the world, all at the whim of the ne'er-do-well scion of the family, the infamous Ana Pendleton, and do it all with a minimum of the kind of fuss that would attract any kindof attention. I'd been exactly right that enlisting the services of Ana's family's jet would prove incalculably useful.
Which led to the exceptionally frustrating question of the whereabouts of Ana herself. Not at the hangar, as we'd agreed upon during our meeting, and all calls to her cell phone went straight on through to her unctously worded voice mail greeting. It's not that I worried for the girl's safety or ours, of course. There was no doubt in my mind that the redoubtable Ms. Pendleton was more than capable of looking out for herself, nor did I expect her to sell the lot of us out to our enemies.
No, my concern was for the fact that this opportunity to aide the right side of such an important confrontation was something that Ana needed desperately, lest her destiny lie in a much darker, even more self-destructive direction. I'd done everything I could in our meeting to impress upon Ana the chance that had been presented to her-- become more than what the world thought one to be, make a difference to every life. To literally save the world.
When she'd left the office, I'd not been entirely convinced that Ana had been entirely convinced, at least of that part of my 'pitch'. She'd agreed to arranging our use of her family's ultra-long-range corporate jet, which would be able to get us from London directly to Las Vegas without refueling. But as for the rest, she'd been purposefully vague about her acquiescence, and about whatever price she might have been considering exacting for the endeavour.
Cursing under my breath after one last attempt to call her from the hangar, I shook my head in a familiar frustration. One more that I couldn't save. Another name to add to the list.
My self-flagellation over the subject didn't stop me from asking Willow to magically sweep the craft for sabotage or anything else unfortunate. Once she'd found nothing, the group piled as best it could into the aircraft, arguing almost immediatly over the shortage of seating for everyone. The bickering had begun before the hatch was closed, and never abated.
While we were in the air, a number of us fretted over the other, even more upsetting absence-- Giles. In Giles' case, though, we were aware of his whereabouts. He'd taken Ethan Rayne and the first airliner out of England to confront Cain on his own and attempt to ensure Genesis' safety. I cursed and admired my old friend in the same breath, and between us all, we hoped we'd find our comrade and friend in good health when we landed.
Despite the constant chatter of everyone in the cabin, despite the arguments and the bravado and the one or two individuals who, deciding that with all of us potentially flinging ourselves headlong into our demise, were encouraging us all to 'go out with a bang' and join the 'mile high club', despite everything that was riding on the motley crew aboard this airplane...
I felt at peace.
I knew where I was going. Knew what I was doing, and why I was doing it.
I knew the fight was right, and that my enemy was evil and my cause was just.
And even if my own armour was long stained and tarnished, it would still do.
The hours sped by until the Bombardier touched the blazing hot tarmac of McCarran International Airport's corporate runway with a screech of tires and the rumble of the jet barrelling down the strip of pavement. We taxied into a hangar that was a near twin of the one we'd left behind in England, and exited the jet only to pile into a trio of hired SUVs, our destination the Luxor Hotel and Casino.
Giles, I thought silently, I hope you're still alive, because you're going to miss a hell of a fight. And Cain, you bastard, as they say in this city... it's time to cash in your chips.