| Hanging Around |
[13 Dec 2007|03:51pm] |
Well, this wasn’t good.
To be entirely truthful, Logan never once wondered what Las Vegas looked like upside down – and he certainly never wanted to know what the city looked like from 16 stories in the air. And yet there the Watcher was, being dangled from a 16th-story window upside down, still in his underwear.
Oh, well … at least Reuben had the decency to let Logan put his boxers back on first. Hanging upside down out of a 16th-story window was embarrassing enough; the Watcher didn’t need the added shame of having his junk hanging out for all the world with a high-powered telescope lens to see.
Then again, Logan was the one stupid enough to try and sleep with a vampire, so … perhaps he deserved this humiliation.
( How's the weather up there? )
Logan couldn’t form words as he put his shirt and jeans back on, fumbling with his shoes before finally slipping his coat back over his shoulders. He met neither the gaze of Grace nor Reuben, deciding this was one of those instances where it was best to just leave and not say another word.
Besides, given the fear and physical sensation of being hung upside down from that high off the ground, Logan feared he might vomit if he dared open his mouth.
So, giving Grace a quick nod and being sure to keep as much physical distance between himself and the elder vampire as possible, the Watcher reached for the door handle, turning it and disappearing on the other end.
And not a moment too soon.
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| Only One Way |
[03 Dec 2007|11:23am] |
Idly watching the condensation gather around the edges of her beer mug, Grace pondered how Las Vegas was never fully quiet. Even after hours, the pace of the city didn't slow down that much. The music coming through the overhead speakers wasn't as loud as it could have been, but the real crowd hadn't started to make their way inside yet either.
The vampire ordered another shot of whiskey, wondering what she might get into, what kind of trouble she could kick up. Nothing had really caught her eye as yet, but the hour was still early. Since the days had gotten shorter, that just gave her more chances to make more noise. It was the only good thing about the cooler months, in her opinion.
She tipped the glass up to her mouth, drained half of the contents. Waited for the next bit of trouble to walk up to her and say hello.
If there was ever a night Logan needed a drink after work, this was it.
After a typical phone interview with the Las Vegas district attorney Mac Parsons – typical in the sense that Parsons offered no real comment aside from “Fuck off, you damn hack!” – Logan had to cover another gruesome murder in a downtown alley. Not that the murder itself was particularly bad – typical vampire attack the police would cover up as a drug-related murder – but the frantic woman stumbling all over herself before vomiting on Logan’s brand-new shirt was completely unnecessary.
So as the Watcher stepped into the bar, decked out in a grey long-sleeve top and sporting about four days’ worth of stubble and the trademark dark circles under his eyes, Logan cracked the slightest of grins, knowing he was just moments away from enjoying a cold drink and working to forget the stresses of his day. To be a reporter was one thing. To be a Watcher was one thing. To be both?
“Sam Adams,” Logan told the bartender as he sat at the bar, “and keep ‘em coming.”
Well, hello, trouble ...
( So a Watcher walks into a bar ... )
( Chomp, Chomp ... (Possible Adult Content: Mild Sexuality) )
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| Professionally Awkward |
[28 Oct 2007|09:13pm] |
"The deceased is one Henry Gabriel Shockley," the uniformed cop said, lifting the thin strip of yellow police tape. "The body was found about an hour ago by a homeless guy scrounging for aluminum cans." He pointed beyond the designated crime scene to where a man in a ragged jacket was talking to two more uniforms, a can on Coke held between his grimy palms. "We haven't taken him out of the dumpster yet, but the ambulance is on its way with a body bag."
Starnes picked her way around a puddle of God-knew-what, noting with morbid fascination the way the yellow streetlight reflected on the murky surface. The alley was wide, garbage cans lined up on either side against graffiti-marked brick walls. A dark-green metal dumpster waited just beyond the last can, its plastic cover opened to reveal trash of all description - and one human corpse, the eyes glassy with death.
The detective took two steps towards the dumpster, making note of the posture of the corpse. "Robbery?"
"Nope. We found over a thousand dollars cash in his wallet and two credit cards. Hell, he's even still wearing his Rolex."
The glint of the expensive watch caught her eye, and she jotted the information in her notebook. "Cute. When's that ambulance getting here? I suppose the vultures will be here to pick at the bones soon enough."
( Murder on a libido )
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| Candid Camera |
[10 Oct 2007|08:51pm] |
Were the writers actually hinting toward a future tryst between Logan and Michaela?
If so, someone in that department had a mighty off sense of humor, deciding to make the two newest cast members hook up. Not to mention the dirty irony of the fact that Leonard and Marissa – the Birthright characters’ real-life counterparts actually had done the nasty on one occasion.
Which was great; only problem was, someone got that one occasion on tape. Viral video of the month, that was for sure.
Not that Leonard wasn’t used to this – he was once rumored, after all, to have popped Jessica Alba’s cherry. Never mind that he hadn’t, but still … for some reason, Leonard’s sexual exploits had always been of the public’s interest. Lord help him if anyone ever found out about what he’d done a few nights before with Leia.
( In private? )
And that was really probably her cue to leave, because the damned film crew was still outside wondering what she was doing in here after such a dramatic entrance. Things were going to be bad enough without giving the gossip a head start. "All right, so we hang tight and try not to panic. I'll call my lawyer as soon as I'm off the lot and let her know the situation. Wish me luck, I guess."
She reached behind her, grasping for the door handle, then leaned forward and kissed Leonard impulsively on the cheek. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow for the next day's scenes," she said, slipping out of the trailer and trying not to look too flustered. For better or worse, they were in this together.
At least for now, it was just the two of them.
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| Small World |
[09 Oct 2007|08:39pm] |
"I don't care what you have to do Justine, just do it!" Leia told her agent over the phone. "It's a lead part with Russell Crowe , there's no way in hell I'm going to let that role get away from me. If you can't get things worked out then what am I paying you for? Get it done or I'll find someone who can." She hit the 'End' button and snapped the cell phone closed before shoving it in her pocket, striding up the steps of the entrance to the Bellagio.
Leia was a showbiz veteran, having literally grown up in front of the camera since she was two years old. Her first job was toddling around in coveralls for an OshKosh B'Gosh commercial and it had only gone up from there. By the time she was eleven, Leia landed the role that would make her a household name: Sarah Sheppard, the sweet and innocent younger daughter of Preacher Ben Sheppard on the family drama Sheppard's Flock.
She'd played Sarah Sheppard for eight years, it paid not only her bills but that of her entire family. But after six years she was so sick of the morality lessons and weak scripts that she was gagging whenever she said her lines and began agitating to get out of her contract. It took a nude spread in Playboy and (rumor had it) seducing Ted Rollins, her on-screen father before they finally let her go, and the young woman fired her mother agent/manager and declared her independence.
Leia had done guest spots on other shows, but struggled to avoid typecasting. When Ed recruited her for the character of Leah Allen in Birthright - The Series she'd thanked her lucky stars for such a different role, and the steady income being part of such a hit show so popular that it even made Sheppard's Flock look like a flop.
She liked Leah, it was a challenge taking on a role so different from anything she'd ever played before. The upcoming plot was something she could really sink her teeth into, but she was still a bit worried about the character becoming one-dimensional. There was no denying that Leah had made her an international sex symbol, given that she was normally wearing something along the lines of dental floss and had a body to die for, but it did get a little old from time to time.
Tonight wasn't one of those times. The young woman was dressed in tight jeans and a white tank top under the leather trench coat worn to ward off the evening desert chill, and smiled at several admirers, even pausing for a picture with a fan and signing a few autographs before making a break for it.
( C'mon, we all know what they're doing ... )
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| Day Off |
[20 Sep 2007|12:09pm] |
Logan turned his cell phone off.
After all, it was his self-imposed day off. Nothing work-related – be it the Beacon or the Council – because, dammit, he said so. He was done writing stories about corruption and cops in jail and missing people for a day, and he was taking a much-needed break from all this vampire cult nonsense.
He barely had time to shave any more, let alone sleep. Completely ignoring the fact that Logan forgot to shave when he got up, instead showering and dressing in a simple grey tee and cargos before coming to the mall for … what was it again?
Logan chuckled to himself as he wandered into the food court for a less-than-healthy lunch. He’d forgotten why he came to this bastion of teenage … well, teenageness.
"Mom, please?"
Mom, please? It had become the rallying cry of the afternoon, and Michaela was beginning to lament the start of the school year. When had hip-huggers come back into fashion, anyway? There should be some kind of newsletter for parents to warn them about this stuff, give them an advance heads-up before they hit the malls with their daughters.
"I said no. If you want some regular jeans, you can have a few pair, but not those. They're too tight."
"I could wear an oversized shirt with them," Denise implored, looking at her across the table. They'd stopped for lunch, trying for a pause in the battle, and the teenager picked at her burger, clearly stalling for time to think of a better argument. "No one will see. No one will care.
“Everyone is wearing them this year."
"I'm sure they are, but not in my house. Please finish your lunch. We can stop off at the video store if we have time." Had she been this difficult at that age? Her mother probably would have thought so. Then again, her mother wouldn't have let the debate go on this long. No interrogation could be as bothersome as having it out with Denise over a pair of pants.
( We have lives? Since when? )
"You just checked him out." Out of Logan's earshot, Denise's voice carried the shocked, accusing tone of someone who'd just witnessed something obscene, and Michaela fought the urge to roll her eyes as the two of them left the food court behind.
"He's just some pain-in-the-butt reporter I work with," she explained. "There was no 'checking out' involved."
The girl huffed to herself, and it looked like the next topic for a mother-daughter argument had been chosen for the evening.
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| First Edition |
[13 Sep 2007|04:06pm] |
Logan had more questions than answers.
Sure, he discovered the Order of Zeus, knew why they existed and what they were after, and he even stumbled upon the Olympian Scrolls, which contained the prophecy the vampire cult held so dear to its unbeating heart. But it still didn’t make any sense.
Did they know Cory was in fact the Chosen Child? With so many Slayers out there, Logan found it hard to believe Samantha was the only one with a child. There had to be others; why not them? Why weren’t their children “chosen?” Or was this a case of the cult going after every child until they found the right one? That made more sense, but Logan hadn’t heard of any other activity.
Which was why he was stuck in the desert town of Searchlight, holed up in the back corner of Unseen Insight. He hated going so far out of a his way for occult materials, but he had it on pretty good authority this was the best “out there” library in all of southern Nevada, so … here he was.
Finding absolutely nothing.
( Welcome to the Weird )
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| Monitoring |
[12 Sep 2007|12:05am] |
Logan couldn’t believe his luck.
Not only had be finally remembered to shave – not that anyone could tell, as quickly as his facial hair grew back – but his editor gave him the rest of the week off. Sort of surprising, considering the developing story of a Vegas police officer arrested for murder, but Logan wasn’t about to complain.
Besides, it would probably be weeks before an autopsy could be done on Gerald Watkins’ body and for charges to be officially filed, so it was probably wise for Logan to take a break now. Only he wasn’t really on a break, cause he still had to research this Order of Zeus thing, an apparent vampire cult bent on protecting the child of the Slayer – the Chosen Child – so he could grow up and fulfill some prophecy.
Yeah, like Logan never read a prophecy forecasting Armageddon before.
His cell phone rang suddenly, startling Logan a bit and interrupting his lunch. He grabbed the phone and flipped it, sighing when he saw the digits on caller ID.
He knew exactly who this was, and it wasn’t entirely unexpected.
“Logan here,” he spoke into the receiver, trying to hide the annoyance in his voice. This was not looking to be a fun conversation.
( Quoting Webster )
[NPC Rupert Giles written by Paul.]
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| Order of Zeus |
[07 Sep 2007|12:56am] |
Logan stared at his laptop, frustrated.
Writer’s block was one thing for someone who wrote fiction; the creative juices were sapped and either time away or a new source of inspiration was needed. But writer’s block for a journalist? That was, in a way, pointless – everything Logan wrote was based on what other people told him, what he found in doing research.
No creativity needed. Find out what happened, when it happened, where it happened, how it happened and why it happened. Then write.
Then again, his interview the day before with Detective Michaela Starnes went nowhere; even when he took things off the record. Logan got the impression she didn’t believe what he was saying and that he was just wasting her time. She obviously didn’t grasp the severity of the situation, what was really going on.
Not that Logan did either, but at least he wasn’t immune to the thought that supernatural things were involved. He suspected Melinda Watkins was killed by a vampire, he’d already heard rumblings of a vampire cult in search of young Cory Blanchard and whenever Wolfram & Hart got involved, things were never entirely normal.
But here Logan sat, ready to write the story his editor so desperately wanted for the morning edition, with nothing.
( Basic rule of journalism )
( The BIG Books )
( Resources )
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| Off the Record |
[05 Sep 2007|02:00pm] |
Logan had meant to shave that morning. Really, he did.
But that was before this huge stink downtown, something about a bomb threat being called in, followed by someone trying to sneak a gun into City Hall. Only it turned out the gun was a SuperSoaker and the threat was called in by some kid with too much time on his hands, so Logan hopped out of bed and chased after a story that didn’t exist.
That happened a lot in his line of work; leads that went nowhere, sources that dried up before giving up really good information. It was really what made his job so stressful at times … and why he often walked around with five days’ worth of stubble.
He didn’t pay much mind to the suspicious glares as he walked over to Detective Starnes’ desk; reporters weren’t exactly the police’s best friends, and he was used to the attitude he would sometimes get. Cops had a job to do, and sometimes the reporter’s job got in the way of that.
But he needed this interview. For reasons he couldn’t exactly divulge.
“Detective Starnes?” he spoke as he reached the desk in question. “Logan Guevera, Clark County Beacon. We spoke on the phone earlier?”
( Hate reporters? Guess what, they're not that fond of you either. )
"I'll have to watch that one," Starnes muttered, slumping back in her chair for another slug of bad coffee and a watch check. If she saw one word of that forgery hit the newspapers, she would have Guevara arrested for interfering with an ongoing police investigation.
He thought he could screw around with her and walk off like nothing happened? Let him try it.
[NPC Detective Starnes was written by Stargazer.]
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