Richard Castle, Watcher: New York, September 2009 - Part 3
Richard Castle, Watcher
Author: Starfox5
Rating: FR18
Crossover: “Castle”
Written for: TtH August Fic A Day Challenge
Disclaimer: BtVS/AtS characters belong to Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy. Castle Characters belong to Beacon Pictures and ABC Studio. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
Summary: It wasn't Kitten Poker, but who cold resist playing poker with Russian mobsters?
New York, September 2009
“You know, I almost wish we’d get to wear a wire. Using our phones seems so… normal,” Richard Castle said while checking if his smartphone, slightly enhanced by Willow, was fully charged.
“We’re not exactly about to enter a secret meeting of mob members, so no one will ask for our smartphones,” Beckett said, shaking her head at him.
“I still wonder where you’ll be stashing yours though. That dress doesn’t seem to let you carry a credit card, much less a phone.” He didn’t quite leer at her, though he wanted to - the cocktail dress she was wearing looked like she had been poured into it.
“Purses exist for a reason.” Sighing, she smoothed the dress out. “That’s what the kind of young, immigrant girls visiting that club are wearing. Trust me, I’d rather wear something a bit more…”
“... decent?” He grinned.
She glared at him. “I was about to say classy, thank you.”
“But you had that indecent dress already,” Vi got a dig in with barely-hidden glee.
“Remnants of my rebellious youth,” Beckett grinned, if a bit forcedly, at the Slayer, who was wearing a very similar-looking dress which Castle had paid for in the afternoon. “Though since it still fits me perfectly, I don’t see the need to spend money on another slutty dress.”
That made Vi frown. “We’ll have to introduce you to Faith! You’ll hit it off!”
Castle coughed. “No, we don’t!” He turned to Beckett. “Faith is the second-oldest - second-most experienced - Slayer and she dresses rather provocatively.”
“Which you’d call ‘slutty’!” Vi added.
Castle glared at his Slayer. “And she’s got a penchant for violence.”
“I thought every Slayer is prone to using violence,” Beckett raised her eyebrows.
“Well, they are…” Castle ignored Vi’s “No, we’re not!” and continued: “... but Faith is kind of… exceptional. The other Slayers fear her.”
“No, we don’t!” Vi put her hands on her hip.
“I’ll tell her that you said that,” Castle retorted, smirking when she faltered.
“We just… respect her. Very much,” Vi admitted, sulking.
“Well, noted. But this ‘Faith’ isn’t here, and we’ve got a nightclub to visit, so how about we focus on that for a bit? I am sure there will be ample opportunities to indulge in sharing scary Slayer stories later.”
She obviously didn’t get how scary Faith was, Castle thought. But she had a point.
“Why are you posing as an immigrant anyway? Wouldn’t it be better if the mobsters didn’t know you spoke Russian, and would let their guard down around us?”
“They would wonder why three Americans visit the club, and probably keep a closer eye on us,” beckett explained. “Especially if one of them is a famous author.”
“So, we’re to be the distraction then.”
“Exactly. I’ll ask around after our dead man, see if anyone knows him. Just play the fool and his arm candy.” Beckett smiled. “If anyone asks, claim you heard about the club from a fan. Please try to not start a riot for an hour or two.”
“Hey! I’ve never started a riot!” He had done a lot, but that particular achievement had eluded him so far.
“And we’ve only set fire to, like… five demon bars!” Vi wasn’t helping.
“You’re not taking your flamethrower with you!” Beckett glared at them.
“Of course not!” He’d leave it in his car. Just in case.
*****
The nightclub - Hotel Moscow - didn’t look impressive from the outside. If not for the groups of underdressed smoking people outside, and the two hulking bouncers at the door, the entrance would have looked like it belonged to an office building.
Castle and Vi waited in the car while Beckett went in first. Rick had to admit to himself that the detective was almost unrecognizable with her blonde wig, makeup, and that slutty dress that drew the attention far away from her face. Though he didn’t think complimenting Beckett for the fact that she could pull off ‘looking like a call girl’ very well would go over well. He really hoped Vi would not make a comment about that.
“If I didn’t know she was a cop, I’d ask for her rates. Do you think she worked for Vice before she became a detective?”
And there went that hope. Maybe she’d not mention it to Beckett. And pigs would fly - without Andrew messing up a ritual. “You’d ask for her rates?”
“It’s just an expression to say she looks like a professional, you know.” Vi glared at him. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Perish the thought!” But there’d be an undercover mission in his next book. Definitely.
The detective passed the bouncers without trouble. Castle didn’t think they’d even took a look at her face. Understandable, really.
“How long do we wait?” Vi had that whiny undertone already. Slayers and patience didn’t go hand in hand at all, to the detriment of their Watchers.
“At least a quarter of an hour,” Castle said. It would feel like an hour, of course. Vi was already fidgeting. “You’re usually not quite that impatient.”
“I just don’t like letting her go first.”
“Ah.” And that explained it. Slayer competitiveness. He often wondered how Xander managed to handle a dozen of the girls. Without getting killed as collateral damage.
“They didn’t frisk her. I’ll be able to slip in my blades. You gonna pack your Glock?”
He didn’t comment on the fact that she would have an easier time concealing weapons with a slightly longer skirt. He blamed Buffy and Faith for the predominant ‘Slayer style’. “No. I think I’ll be safer as the famous clueless author.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.” Vi patted his arm.
“That would be more reassuring if you didn’t have to keep me safe from trouble you started at least half the time.”
“Hey!”
He smirked at her outraged reaction. Two minutes down, thirteen more to go.
*****
Castle and Vi got a bit more attention from the bouncers, as Beckett had predicted. Mostly Castle though - Vi got the kind of attention any pretty girl wearing a too short skirt and too tight top would get. He smiled at the bouncers. “Richard Castle. You may have heard of me. I’ve certainly heard of this club!” They didn’t recognize him, but they did recognize a hundred bucks, and waved him through with a smile. Money was the universal language.
The place was packed full of people dancing, drinking and flirting. Judging by the smell, they didn’t really enforce the ban on smoking inside clubs, and he doubted they qualified for an exception. He saw Vi wrinkle her nose, and raised his eyebrows at her. She met his eyes, and nodded. So there was a demon nearby. That didn’t have to mean anything, of course. But he bet it did.
It was almost impossible to find a demon or two in such a crowd though, apart from personally checking everyone out. And that wouldn’t end up that well in this place either. Not even for a pretty girl like Vi.
So the two of them made their way to the bar while he tried to spot Beckett. He had no success though.
“Cop ten o’clock, cozying up to a slimeball,” Vi whispered, leaning with her back against the bar next to him.
Rick slowly turned his head, and spotted Beckett, laughing next to some ugly brute of a gangster who was staring down her dress. The man had a face that just begged to be introduced to Castle’s, or better, Vi’s fists.
Castle turned towards the bartender, smiling and ordering a Bloody Mary for himself, and a cola for Vi. A generous tip followed.
“They’re talking in Russian,” Vi said.
“Well, that was to be expected. But does he seem to be buying her act?” Castle slowly leaned a bit closer to Vi, with a wide smile pasted on his face.
“He seems to be buying her drinks, at least,” Vi answered.
Castle glanced over. “Well, so far so good.” He took the rest of the room in. “This looks like a nice club, actually. If not for the fact that it’s owned by the mob.”
“Mister Castle?”
Rick turned towards the man who had just approached him. ‘Thug’ was the first impression. But he looked friendly. And Castle had a role to play. “Yes, that’s me! Are you a fan of my books?”
“Ah, I must confess I barely find the time to read the newspapers, these days. Work, you understand. But I recognized you from my girlfriend’s magazine. I am Petar Kusmich, and this is Natasha.” The man pointed at girl next to him. She was pretty, young, and beaming at Rick.
“Pleased to meet you. This is Vi,” Castle presented the Slayer.
Kusmich bent to kiss Vi’s hand, displaying remarkable manners for a gangster. At least as far as Castle thought - his knowledge of the Russian Mafia might be a tad lacking, he realized. He knew far more about Russian monsters than mobsters. “Work?”
“I own the club.” The Russian smiled and made a sweeping gesture. “Where did you hear of it, if I may ask?”
“It’s a bit of an embarrassing story, so I trust your discretion,” Castle said, leaning forward. “I met a pretty fan of mine at a vernissage, and we got in a drinking contest that turned out not to be any contest. The girl drank me under the table. She mentioned this club, which is the only thing I recall of that evening.” He held up his glass. “I’ve been training since then, to offer her a better challenge in case we meet again, and where better than here?”
Kusmich laughed loudly. “A hard drinking man, I like that.”
“More like working hard at drinking, still.” Castle had the distinct feeling that he was about to be played, but no idea in what way.
“Do you play poker, by chance?” Ah, that way.
“I’ve been known to play a few hands with colleagues of mine. Fellow writers. But our schedules don’t line up too often.”
“Would you be interested in a little game?” Kusmich asked, eyes glinting.
Castle smiled back. “Definitely!” Playing poker with Russian mafiosi? Who could resist that? And since it wasn’t Kitten Poker, he wouldn’t be saddled with either a basket full of meowling animals, or a reproachful look from his family for letting kittens get eaten. Win win.
“Let me show you a more private room then, Mister Castle.”
“Call me Rick!”
They were passing closer to the table Beckett was getting leered at by that brute when Castle froze. The concierge of the victim’s condo was there, a few meters away, and pointing at the detective. That was very bad!
“That’s a demon,” Vi whispered.
And that was worse!
Author: Starfox5
Rating: FR18
Crossover: “Castle”
Written for: TtH August Fic A Day Challenge
Disclaimer: BtVS/AtS characters belong to Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy. Castle Characters belong to Beacon Pictures and ABC Studio. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
Summary: It wasn't Kitten Poker, but who cold resist playing poker with Russian mobsters?
New York, September 2009
“You know, I almost wish we’d get to wear a wire. Using our phones seems so… normal,” Richard Castle said while checking if his smartphone, slightly enhanced by Willow, was fully charged.
“We’re not exactly about to enter a secret meeting of mob members, so no one will ask for our smartphones,” Beckett said, shaking her head at him.
“I still wonder where you’ll be stashing yours though. That dress doesn’t seem to let you carry a credit card, much less a phone.” He didn’t quite leer at her, though he wanted to - the cocktail dress she was wearing looked like she had been poured into it.
“Purses exist for a reason.” Sighing, she smoothed the dress out. “That’s what the kind of young, immigrant girls visiting that club are wearing. Trust me, I’d rather wear something a bit more…”
“... decent?” He grinned.
She glared at him. “I was about to say classy, thank you.”
“But you had that indecent dress already,” Vi got a dig in with barely-hidden glee.
“Remnants of my rebellious youth,” Beckett grinned, if a bit forcedly, at the Slayer, who was wearing a very similar-looking dress which Castle had paid for in the afternoon. “Though since it still fits me perfectly, I don’t see the need to spend money on another slutty dress.”
That made Vi frown. “We’ll have to introduce you to Faith! You’ll hit it off!”
Castle coughed. “No, we don’t!” He turned to Beckett. “Faith is the second-oldest - second-most experienced - Slayer and she dresses rather provocatively.”
“Which you’d call ‘slutty’!” Vi added.
Castle glared at his Slayer. “And she’s got a penchant for violence.”
“I thought every Slayer is prone to using violence,” Beckett raised her eyebrows.
“Well, they are…” Castle ignored Vi’s “No, we’re not!” and continued: “... but Faith is kind of… exceptional. The other Slayers fear her.”
“No, we don’t!” Vi put her hands on her hip.
“I’ll tell her that you said that,” Castle retorted, smirking when she faltered.
“We just… respect her. Very much,” Vi admitted, sulking.
“Well, noted. But this ‘Faith’ isn’t here, and we’ve got a nightclub to visit, so how about we focus on that for a bit? I am sure there will be ample opportunities to indulge in sharing scary Slayer stories later.”
She obviously didn’t get how scary Faith was, Castle thought. But she had a point.
“Why are you posing as an immigrant anyway? Wouldn’t it be better if the mobsters didn’t know you spoke Russian, and would let their guard down around us?”
“They would wonder why three Americans visit the club, and probably keep a closer eye on us,” beckett explained. “Especially if one of them is a famous author.”
“So, we’re to be the distraction then.”
“Exactly. I’ll ask around after our dead man, see if anyone knows him. Just play the fool and his arm candy.” Beckett smiled. “If anyone asks, claim you heard about the club from a fan. Please try to not start a riot for an hour or two.”
“Hey! I’ve never started a riot!” He had done a lot, but that particular achievement had eluded him so far.
“And we’ve only set fire to, like… five demon bars!” Vi wasn’t helping.
“You’re not taking your flamethrower with you!” Beckett glared at them.
“Of course not!” He’d leave it in his car. Just in case.
*****
The nightclub - Hotel Moscow - didn’t look impressive from the outside. If not for the groups of underdressed smoking people outside, and the two hulking bouncers at the door, the entrance would have looked like it belonged to an office building.
Castle and Vi waited in the car while Beckett went in first. Rick had to admit to himself that the detective was almost unrecognizable with her blonde wig, makeup, and that slutty dress that drew the attention far away from her face. Though he didn’t think complimenting Beckett for the fact that she could pull off ‘looking like a call girl’ very well would go over well. He really hoped Vi would not make a comment about that.
“If I didn’t know she was a cop, I’d ask for her rates. Do you think she worked for Vice before she became a detective?”
And there went that hope. Maybe she’d not mention it to Beckett. And pigs would fly - without Andrew messing up a ritual. “You’d ask for her rates?”
“It’s just an expression to say she looks like a professional, you know.” Vi glared at him. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Perish the thought!” But there’d be an undercover mission in his next book. Definitely.
The detective passed the bouncers without trouble. Castle didn’t think they’d even took a look at her face. Understandable, really.
“How long do we wait?” Vi had that whiny undertone already. Slayers and patience didn’t go hand in hand at all, to the detriment of their Watchers.
“At least a quarter of an hour,” Castle said. It would feel like an hour, of course. Vi was already fidgeting. “You’re usually not quite that impatient.”
“I just don’t like letting her go first.”
“Ah.” And that explained it. Slayer competitiveness. He often wondered how Xander managed to handle a dozen of the girls. Without getting killed as collateral damage.
“They didn’t frisk her. I’ll be able to slip in my blades. You gonna pack your Glock?”
He didn’t comment on the fact that she would have an easier time concealing weapons with a slightly longer skirt. He blamed Buffy and Faith for the predominant ‘Slayer style’. “No. I think I’ll be safer as the famous clueless author.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.” Vi patted his arm.
“That would be more reassuring if you didn’t have to keep me safe from trouble you started at least half the time.”
“Hey!”
He smirked at her outraged reaction. Two minutes down, thirteen more to go.
*****
Castle and Vi got a bit more attention from the bouncers, as Beckett had predicted. Mostly Castle though - Vi got the kind of attention any pretty girl wearing a too short skirt and too tight top would get. He smiled at the bouncers. “Richard Castle. You may have heard of me. I’ve certainly heard of this club!” They didn’t recognize him, but they did recognize a hundred bucks, and waved him through with a smile. Money was the universal language.
The place was packed full of people dancing, drinking and flirting. Judging by the smell, they didn’t really enforce the ban on smoking inside clubs, and he doubted they qualified for an exception. He saw Vi wrinkle her nose, and raised his eyebrows at her. She met his eyes, and nodded. So there was a demon nearby. That didn’t have to mean anything, of course. But he bet it did.
It was almost impossible to find a demon or two in such a crowd though, apart from personally checking everyone out. And that wouldn’t end up that well in this place either. Not even for a pretty girl like Vi.
So the two of them made their way to the bar while he tried to spot Beckett. He had no success though.
“Cop ten o’clock, cozying up to a slimeball,” Vi whispered, leaning with her back against the bar next to him.
Rick slowly turned his head, and spotted Beckett, laughing next to some ugly brute of a gangster who was staring down her dress. The man had a face that just begged to be introduced to Castle’s, or better, Vi’s fists.
Castle turned towards the bartender, smiling and ordering a Bloody Mary for himself, and a cola for Vi. A generous tip followed.
“They’re talking in Russian,” Vi said.
“Well, that was to be expected. But does he seem to be buying her act?” Castle slowly leaned a bit closer to Vi, with a wide smile pasted on his face.
“He seems to be buying her drinks, at least,” Vi answered.
Castle glanced over. “Well, so far so good.” He took the rest of the room in. “This looks like a nice club, actually. If not for the fact that it’s owned by the mob.”
“Mister Castle?”
Rick turned towards the man who had just approached him. ‘Thug’ was the first impression. But he looked friendly. And Castle had a role to play. “Yes, that’s me! Are you a fan of my books?”
“Ah, I must confess I barely find the time to read the newspapers, these days. Work, you understand. But I recognized you from my girlfriend’s magazine. I am Petar Kusmich, and this is Natasha.” The man pointed at girl next to him. She was pretty, young, and beaming at Rick.
“Pleased to meet you. This is Vi,” Castle presented the Slayer.
Kusmich bent to kiss Vi’s hand, displaying remarkable manners for a gangster. At least as far as Castle thought - his knowledge of the Russian Mafia might be a tad lacking, he realized. He knew far more about Russian monsters than mobsters. “Work?”
“I own the club.” The Russian smiled and made a sweeping gesture. “Where did you hear of it, if I may ask?”
“It’s a bit of an embarrassing story, so I trust your discretion,” Castle said, leaning forward. “I met a pretty fan of mine at a vernissage, and we got in a drinking contest that turned out not to be any contest. The girl drank me under the table. She mentioned this club, which is the only thing I recall of that evening.” He held up his glass. “I’ve been training since then, to offer her a better challenge in case we meet again, and where better than here?”
Kusmich laughed loudly. “A hard drinking man, I like that.”
“More like working hard at drinking, still.” Castle had the distinct feeling that he was about to be played, but no idea in what way.
“Do you play poker, by chance?” Ah, that way.
“I’ve been known to play a few hands with colleagues of mine. Fellow writers. But our schedules don’t line up too often.”
“Would you be interested in a little game?” Kusmich asked, eyes glinting.
Castle smiled back. “Definitely!” Playing poker with Russian mafiosi? Who could resist that? And since it wasn’t Kitten Poker, he wouldn’t be saddled with either a basket full of meowling animals, or a reproachful look from his family for letting kittens get eaten. Win win.
“Let me show you a more private room then, Mister Castle.”
“Call me Rick!”
They were passing closer to the table Beckett was getting leered at by that brute when Castle froze. The concierge of the victim’s condo was there, a few meters away, and pointing at the detective. That was very bad!
“That’s a demon,” Vi whispered.
And that was worse!