[ open ] always pushing up the hill searching for the thrill of it
If you wander through Grant Park you may witness a man staring up at the sun. If he's not staring incredulously at the ball of light in the sky, he's seated on a bench, flipping through a journal. It's not exactly his first walk through the park, figuratively speaking, when it comes to dimensional travel. But, because of what he is, he hardly ever gets the chance to actually be in the sun. He can count three times and one -- can't count. As far as Buffy and everyone else is concerned, that time never happened. But, there's no reason to think of such maudlin things.
Angel's sword leans against the bench.
He catches bits and pieces about Chicago - which is apparently where he's ended up. There are building names he doesn't recognize. But, this park. Grant Park. That's a real park. So, of all places to be brought to by the Senior Partners -- in the sunlight -- Chicago isn't exactly on his radar. This must be an alternate Chicago. Or, Hell's version of Chicago.
Angel notes that this doesn't feel like hell. He's been there, done that and this is nothing like that. He wonders if he should be grateful. He turns a page and can't help but think about his team left behind, about soldiers down before them. Doyle. Cordelia. Everything culminates in -- Grant Park, Chicago. How anticlimactic. Maybe this is way for the Partners to tip the scales. Pull Angel from the fray, stop him from slaying the dragon that he was itching to slay -- and drop him.
In Grant Park.
Angel's sword leans against the bench.
He catches bits and pieces about Chicago - which is apparently where he's ended up. There are building names he doesn't recognize. But, this park. Grant Park. That's a real park. So, of all places to be brought to by the Senior Partners -- in the sunlight -- Chicago isn't exactly on his radar. This must be an alternate Chicago. Or, Hell's version of Chicago.
Angel notes that this doesn't feel like hell. He's been there, done that and this is nothing like that. He wonders if he should be grateful. He turns a page and can't help but think about his team left behind, about soldiers down before them. Doyle. Cordelia. Everything culminates in -- Grant Park, Chicago. How anticlimactic. Maybe this is way for the Partners to tip the scales. Pull Angel from the fray, stop him from slaying the dragon that he was itching to slay -- and drop him.
In Grant Park.