Progress
Part Two: Start at the Bottom
Angel crouched on the rooftop, looking down at the alley below him. Below him, Gunn sorted through trash bins and examined papers soaked with something even his demon senses couldn’t identify. Gunn tossed the papers to one side, and began looking again. Angel felt a sort of déjà vu at the scene. He hadn’t realized he’d become accustomed to the new, Armani-wearing Charles Gunn, Attorney-At-Law. Now, Gunn wore old jeans, a black T-shirt with a loose flannel jacket thrown over it, with a blue bandanna tied around his head. It occurred to Angel that Gunn was wearing gang colors. That was something he’d have to ask him about. Eventually. Gunn lifted up the cover of a dumpster, and shined a mag light into it. Instinctively, Angel glanced down the alleyway, where he indeed could see something shambling toward him. Gunn seemed oblivious, his eyes widening with glee at the soot-matted papers he fished from the trash.
Angel prepared to leap as the shadow loomed closer, and another behind it. Angel was about to jump when Gunn spun around and produced a stake from his sleeve, stabbing the vampire in the heart. The vampire disintegrated into dust almost instantly.
Suddenly, a crossbow bolt whizzed by Gunn’s face, dusting the second vampire. Gunn smiled.
“Nice shooting, English,” he said, as Wesley stepped out of the shadows. “Next time let put the apple on my head, first.”
“You know, Gunn,” said Wesley, cocking another bolt as he stepped out of the shadows, “We have people for this sort of thing these days.”
“Some jobs you just can’t trust to others,” said Gunn, looking up at the rooftop. “Ain’t that right, boss?”
Angel leapt to the ground, landing with catlike grace beside them.
“How long have you known…”
“That you were tailing me?” finished Gunn. “From the office. Both of you.”
Wesley and Angel both looked embarrassed, and Gunn wasn’t sure if it was because they felt guilty or because they were caught.
“Look,” said Angel. “I know you said that this was your business, and I respect that…”
“Funny, that’s not how it looks from here,” said Gunn.
“No,” said Angel. “It doesn’t, does it? But I was just…”
“You seemed disturbed,” said Wesley. “That woman…”
Earlier that day, an elderly black woman had entered the Wolfram & Hart lobby and demanded to see Gunn. At first, the receptionist tried to blow her off, and then tried to call security, but the woman wouldn’t budge.
The guards, under strict instructions not to physically harm a human if unnecessary, seemed perplexed. Eventually, they relented and just called Gunn out of the meeting he was in.
Gunn seemed shocked to see her there, and seemed to sink into himself when she began tearing into him for the way she’d been treated. When he tried to apologize, she tweaked his ear and began terrorizing him some more. When the guards started to step forward, Gunn waved them off, and ushered to the woman to come up to his office. What they spoke of, Angel and Wesley didn’t know, but he seemed flustered when she left, and then he took his own leave, claiming some personal business to attend to. Gunn appraised the two of them, and knew they were just trying to help. He also knew that they’d each come independently, not knowing the other was also trailing him. He couldn’t stay mad.
“You two recognize this place?” he asked.
“This is your old neighborhood,” said Angel. This is where…”
“Where I used to patrol,” said Gunn.
“Will people please stop finishing my sentences?” asked Angel.
“I think it’s cute,” said Wesley. Angel just glared at him.
“Woman that visited me lives around here," said Gunn. "Name’s Andrea Jackson, but everyone just calls her Momma Annie. She takes care of a lot of the kids here bouts. Took care of my sister and me, when our folks died.”
A sternness overtook Gunn’s face for a second, and he paused.
“Momma Annie tells me there’s things prowling around here again. Tells me they’re organized, clearing out tenants and businesses. She says a lot of my old gang’s been knocked off already.”
“So you came back to fight them?” asked Angel. “On your own?”
Gunn raised an eyebrow at him.
“Fight ‘em?” he said. “What’re you, nuts? If it was just that, I’d have called you guys in. Hell, I’d have brought a team. No, I came looking for this.”
He handed Angel the stack of papers. They were covered in dumpster slime.
Angel held them at a distance and tried to read them while touching them as little as possible.
“What are they?” he asked.
“Receipts,” said Gunn. “No the actual documents, but carbon transfers. Some ancillary expenses. Things like that.”
“Huh,” said Angel.
“The owner of this building,” said Gunn, pointing to his right, “was forced to sell. Cheap. Seems we have a vampire protection racket.”
“But, why would vampires be interested in real estate,” asked Wesley, taking the papers from a relieved Angel.
They’re not, usually,” said Gunn. “But they seem to be working for someone who does.”
Wesley took a cast-aside business card from out of the mass of paper.
“And that someone has a lawyer,” said Wesley, with that tone of voice that indicated to Angel that he’d pieced it together.
“Don’t tell me it’s us,” said Angel.
“It’s not,” said Gunn. “It seems we have a competitor.”
They let that sink in for a second, and then walked toward the street in silence. Angel stopped for a second, thinking he’d caught the scent of something, but it was gone.
“Damn garbage. Can’t smell anything over it.”
“You just don’t wannna mess up your pretty outfit,” said Gunn, chuckling as they walked away.
From the rooftop above, Justine watched them leave, her expression cold as snow.