27.
It didn’t take long for the Think Pink team to discover that Hamilton was not a one man demolition team. He had a couple of familiar and unstable allies on board the hellmouth express. Video surveillance revealed a number of clandestine stairwell meetings between Hamilton and Archduke Sebassis that, according to Angel, cross-referenced exactly with the Archduke’s meetings with Harmony.
Hitting the streets wasn’t as successful as Gunn had hoped. For once, the forces of evil managed to keep their big mouths shut. Rumor and innuendo ran rampant in the seedy underground where Gunn’s more aromatic informants plied their greasy trade, but unfortunately, no pertinent information was to be found. There wasn’t even so much as a whisper of hellmouth on the breeze.
On a hunch Gunn turned to an investigation of the smaller real estate properties within the Wolfram and Hart portfolio, reasoning that any potential hellmouth location might be on company property. A few properties immediately tweaked Gunn’s suspicion by virtue of the seller listed, Cyvus Vail, a long time Wolfram and Hart associate.
Harmony sat in distress as rage and depression fluctuated within her. Not even the furtive purring of her esteemed companion, Mr. Pussy Galore could assuage her restlessness. The team assembled around her with two excited additions Wesley finally located.
After a first hand connection with the synergistic strategies of Wolfram and Hart, Andrew launched into an inspired stream of consciousness rant about how Giles in particular and the Watcher Council in general could benefit from learning to dance. When Wesley approached Andrew and informed him that Harmony needed his expertise, it was all he could do not to faint from the sheer ecstasy of the moment. A furtive toe stomp from Dawn quickly brought his thoughts into sharp focus. This was exactly the kind of opportunity Andrew needed to prove to Giles once and for all that he was more than a goofy kid who could recite risqué limericks in proto-Tawarick as a party trick. He made a quick case for Dawn to be included. He would not shirk one responsibility for another but shoulder them both with determination and fortitude.
Wesley didn’t have time to argue. He was working on a deadline. He looked Dawn up and down and spoke with dispatch. “You had best come along too, then.” It was the most awe inspiring sentence Dawn had ever heard.
Wesley’s office continued to operate as a makeshift central command for the daunting task ahead. It was cramped and smelled a little stale but held that gut clenching vibe of heroic anticipation Dawn remembered so well from Revello Drive. Andrew stood nervously clenching a tiny video camera while Dawn picked idly at her nail polish beside him.
All eyes focused on Harmony. She sat slumped in a chair with the corner of her lips quirking intermittently in thought. It was all true. Betrayers to the left of her. Betrayers to the right. Back stabbing, spotlight stealers as far as the eye could see. Well, nobody was going to rain on Harmony’s parade. Not only was she a corporate visionary, but she had CEO written after her name and that had to mean something.
Truthfully, she could use a little he-done-me-wrong time but the clock was ticking and she had an audience. The assembled team stood patiently with shoulders straight, chins up and eyes sharp. Two curious additions stood out among her team. Their presence puzzled her for only a moment.
“Oh, yeah. The video guy.” Harmony nodded at Andrew. A camera always lifted her spirits. “Edward, isn’t it?”
“Um, actually it’s Andrew. May I say this is a great, great honor for me, Miss Kendall.”
“Yes, I’d imagine it is.” Harmony sighed. “Glad to have you on board. You too, Dawn. You’re going to be our good luck charms.”
“This is so unbelievably cool,” Dawn couldn’t help but gush. Being personally invited to an apocalypse by the one and only Harmony Kendall was, as Dawn noted, unbelievably cool.
Wesley was used to Harmony’s whims. In retrospect, videotaping the apocalypse didn’t sound all that far fetched and an extra demon fighter or two really couldn’t hurt. Some last minute divination provided the final pieces of the puzzle. They needed to coordinate and act quickly.
With a final scratch of her kitten’s chin Harmony rose to her feet, steely determination strengthening her resolve. “Okay, team. This is the moment. Open a hellmouth in my town? I don’t think so.” Harmony took Hamilton’s secretive plotting personally. She wasn’t just some devastatingly gorgeous speed bump on the road to hellmouth central. “He could have come to me and worked this out. After all, I’ve personally facilitated a few of the Senior Partners more unusual requests.”
This was news to her team.
“It’s nothing for you guys to worry about,” Harmony glossed over that executive detail and turned her thoughts to her scheming lover. “That dirty, rotten stinker! He went behind my back! If I wasn’t so thoroughly insulted right now, I’d be totally turned on.” Rage bobbed the incendiary seas of Harmony’s eyes and then receded behind her elegant false eyelashes. “So gang, what do we know so far?”
“It’s more than just Hamilton,” Gunn spoke first. “I’ve found connections to Cyvus Vail.”
“Sebassis is definitely a player,” Wesley confirmed.
“I ran across a tasty little tidbit after my squash game,” Lorne offered up his information and received several incredulous looks. “What? This kind of wonderful doesn’t come in a can, kids. I have to work it.”
Fred tried to imagine Lorne on a squash court in regulation footwear. She couldn’t get past the image of Lorne wearing athletic clothing, let alone sweating of his own free will.
“What is the information?” Wesley urged Lorne along.
“Agamemnon’s scheduled to work tonight. He’s driving some mucky-mucks out to the boonies in Hollywood.”
“But he’s my personal driver!” Harmony protested. “Available at my convenience!”
“Who’s he moonlighting for?” Gunn had his suspicions.
“Um, that didn’t come up,” Lorne winced. “Sorry.”
“It’s got to be Hamilton.” Wesley looked to Harmony.
She’d heard enough. “This is unacceptable! Marcus and the rest of the mouth breathers don’t get to call the shots.” In anger, Harmony twisted her fancy fountain pen between her fingers, crushing the blown glass unicorn decoration on the cap. “Oh!” She frowned at the twinkling shards in her hands and then something stirred within her. In this big, bad world somebody had to look out for the helpless, little shiny things; if not Harmony and her team of synergistic and stylish super heroes, then who?
“It’s time for Think Pink to kick ass.” Defiance reverberated in her words.
Gunn feared for her safety. Harmony was an excellent administrator but hardly a callused, battlefield general. “Hamilton’s got you spooked, Harmony,” he said. “That’s just an invitation for trouble.”
“Charles is right,” Wesley agreed. “It’s become personal and that’s reason enough for you to back away.”
“You bet it’s personal,” Harmony hardened her jaw. “But my team doesn’t get divided.” The strength of her corporate mission statement coursed through her. “Synergy isn’t just some letters on a white board, gang. We fight for what’s right and we’re more than a match for Marcus and his boys. Besides, we’ve got a few secret weapons of our own.”
“Secret weapons?” Fred asked.
“Are you forgetting that there’s a smiling slayer at our front door?” Harmony’s lips curled with satisfaction. “Buffy has learned the meaning of teamwork in her short time here at Wolfram and Hart.”
“A slayer in our corner would be unexpected,” Wesley mused.
“And Spike’s been spoiling for a massacre ever since I told him we were finished for good. I say, let’s give him one.”
“By golly, Harmony, you’re a genius!” Lorne exclaimed, knowing full well that some surgically applied mayhem was just what Spike needed.
“Plus,” Harmony continued, “I know a certain executive secretary who’s more than a pretty face in tight fitting shorts on a pedestal.
“Angel! It’s Angel!” Fred guessed correctly.
“Yes, Angel. He’s been spending his lunch breaks honing his skills with a broadsword in the rest room.”
“Really?” Gunn sounded surprised. “But I’ve heard singing. I thought perhaps he was practicing for karaoke night.”
“The singing helps him with his timing and the acoustics in there are perfect.” Harmony never underestimated the raw material at her disposal.
“He’ll be wearing pants, though, right?” Only Fred was brave enough to ask that burning question.
“Shall we find out?” Harmony responded with a mischievous flare of her eyebrows. “Get ready, video guy.”
Andrew sprang to attention, his thumb hovering over the record button. “Ready.”
Harmony flipped open her Barbie cell phone and activated the pager. She made her way to the door and opened it to reveal Angel, Spike and Buffy striding toward the office, fully clothed and looking every inch the lethal fighters they truly were. Due to the narrowness of the hallway and the billowing swell of leather coats, Buffy found it hard to keep up with the long, showy strides of the strutting vampires. It was all she could do not to be swallowed up completely in the competing leathers.
As they came to a stop in the doorway, Spike and Angel flared their nostrils in militaristic unison. Buffy jumped in the background in an effort to see over their shoulders.
“And…cut!” Andrew pressed the button on his camera. “Really great establishing shot, Spike. Your visceral energy was magnificent. Angel, I’m sorry, I didn’t feel anything from you at all in that take and Buffy should really have been out in front. She’s completely lost in the coat tails on that one. I hardly even caught her scrunchy.”
“Andrew, what are you doing here?” Buffy jumped again before attempting to squeeze through the solid mass of malevolent muscle in front of her.
“Well, after our invigorating dance session, I happened upon Wesley in the hallway. He told me that Harmony needed me and here I am. I have the unparalleled honor of chronicling this historic event as it happens.”
“And you’re doing a great job, so far,” Harmony nodded.
“Thank you.” Andrew bowed his head toward Harmony.
“And where’s Dawn?” Buffy’s questions often sounded like accusations. “You didn’t lose her, did you?”
“Relax, Buffy, I’m right here.” Dawn waved from inside the crowded office.
Buffy finally stepped between Angel and Spike and saw Dawn standing near Harmony. “Shouldn’t you have teleported back to the coven by now? That’s what you said you were doing.”
“And miss out on the fun?”
“Wasn’t Vegas enough fun for you?”
“It was a stick-on tattoo, Buffy! Get a sense of humor, why don’t you? God, you’re about as much fun as a barrel of decaying monkeys!”
“If you two wouldn’t mind?” Wesley interjected tersely. “We’ve got the end of the world to contend with and a tight time line. Sibling rivalry will have to take a rain check.”
“Sorry, Wesley. Harmony,” Buffy apologized with a mortified blush.
Harmony addressed her personal videographer. “Did you get all that?”
“Um, no. I wasn’t filming then.”
“Good,” Harmony nodded. “Try to focus on me, unless there’s something really, um, you know…oh, forget that. Just focus on me.”
“I will!” Andrew nodded.
“Buffy,” Harmony warned. “Your tension is strangling our synergy. I wouldn’t want to have to cut you from the team. Go with the flow, girl. Think pink.”
“I’m really sorry about that, Harmony,” Buffy apologized once again. “I’ll do that think pink thing. For sure.”
“I know you will, girlfriend. That’s why you are a valued member of my team. But little sis is too. I feel the positive Sunnydale vibes pulsating through this room. Are you rolling, Eddie?”
“Er…rolling!” Andrew flipped open the compact device.
“I got the job done with those scaly ubervamps in Sunnydale, remember Buffy?” Dawn whispered at an energized clip. “And Harmony said I could come.” Dawn pursed her lips at Buffy. “I told you we connected.”
“You’re sure, Harmony?” Buffy asked.
“My muse tells me yes.”
“And then there were ten…” Andrew spoke in a slow, somber voice. His film maker’s eye roamed across the gathered troops followed by the activated camera. “I’m thinking of calling this epic, ‘Apocalypse Now, You– Are– There–‘” His voice swelled to approximate an echoing sound effect.
“Catchy title, fella, but I think Francis Ford might still manage a litigious response.” Lorne tilted his head in thought. “And ixnay on the adge-bay, sweet cheeks.” He whispered in Buffy’s direction and pointed to her Greeter tag.
“Oops!” Buffy gasped nervously and pocketed the tag. “Thanks, Mr. Lorne. I wouldn’t want this to get scuffed.”
“Call me Lorne, little Missy.”
Angel stepped toward Harmony. “Thanks for including me, boss. It means a lot.”
“You’re my right hand man, Angel,” Harmony reassured him. “I’d never think of going into battle without you.”
The corner of Angel’s mouth raised in nervous anticipation. He was under no illusions as to his performance as a secretary. His typing speed was snail slow and he was convinced the copy machine hated him but he knew how to massage that knot out of the middle of Harmony’s shoulders. Now he had the opportunity to prove that he wasn’t just a pretty face and magic fingers. He also knew how to rend and destroy. He could kick evil butt with the best of them. He could be a champion.
No one noticed when Mr. Pussy Galore stopped licking his bits and sat to attention.
“I’m ready for my close-up,” Harmony indicated.
“Quiet everyone!” Andrew assumed creative control and pressed the record button. “Whenever you’re ready, Miss Kendall.”
Harmony’s eyes blazed with solemn intensity. “This will be the Think Pink team’s finest hour…”