AAI: Episode 101: Pilot

A/N: Okay, fans of mine, please listen, because I’m about to tell you something you’re probably not going to like. I promised you a sequel to “The Champions of Kal-El.” I even set it up in the last chapter. However, I’m not getting enough inspiration for that fic to write it all, so I’ve come up with a compromise. This is “Archangel Investigations,” a TV series that fits into the CoKE universe. And it will feature flashbacks to what would have been the sequel to “CoKE.” Hopefully, this will work out better than if had I tried to have done CoKE II. And don’t expect to understand everything that goes on in the flashbacks. The puzzle pieces will assemble themselves in time.

Clark entered the cave with Lex over one shoulder and Lana over the other. Neither was conscious. Following him in were Pete and Groo, carrying in an equally knocked out Lois by her arms and legs. Chloe brought up the rear.

“Somehow,” Chloe stated, eying the dormant friends, “I think there might have been a better way of doing that.”

Depositing his former best friend and ex-girlfriend on the floor, Clark replied, “Somehow, telling them they’re the chosen protectors of the 28 known galaxies and that their memories were erased of the event might go over as well as me telling them, say, that I’m an extraterrestrial.”

“As if that’d ever happen,” Chloe jabbed. As she spoke, her bracelet began to glow and eventually the table did the same. The four of them looked on with mild interest but little surprise.

Finally, Jor-El’s voice spoke again, “Welcome back, my son. And to you, Groosalugg, many thanks for acting as a desperately needed messenger. The Champions of Kal-El applaud you. But, Kal-El, why have you brought me three of your team in a cataleptic form?”

“Uh,” Clark answered, “you erased their memories. We had to get them here somehow.”

“Of course!” Jor-El cried almost jubilantly, “we’ll take care of that. I shall return their memories, minus the unfortunate betrayal.”

All at once, Lex, Lana, and Lois stood up, their eyes popping open widely.

Lois’s brow furrowed, “Um, I’m getting this total wake-up-from-amnesia feeling. So, would anyone else think like I’m totally nuts if I said that I could fly and be invisible?”

“Not any weirder than if I told you I had the power of persuasion over all living creatures,” Lana replied.

“Champions, I am sorry for startling your mind, but your aid is necessary.” While Lex, Lana, and Lois were momentarily started by the booming voice of Jor-El, their instantaneously retrieved memories kept them from freaking out.

Lex countered, “I’m confused why you deleted our memories in the first place.”

“I have saved your minds from terrible tragedy, one that would risk the cohesion of your league. But, now, I fear I cannot explain further. It is of the utmost urgency that I send you to a faraway planet, Jorja, which is in great peril, overtaken by a conquering race which threatens to obliterate the planet’s two cultures.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but that’s rather cliché. You’d think alien races would have a little more creativity,” Lex quipped. There was what could have been considered an amused hum coming from the ceiling.

Silently from the shadows, a tall, twenty-something man with curly, auburn hair took the camera around his neck and placed it before his awestruck face.

The camera’s flash would be overpowered by a sudden glow from the table. When that light subsided, the room was empty, leaving only a black lens cap on the floor.

* * *

At the Euryphaessa Hotel in Metropolis, Kansas, Clark Kent walked into the lobby carrying a large box, which he set down on the abandoned counter, causing it to creak ominously, so he moved it to the floor.

“So, what was in that box?” came a voice from just outside the double doors. In walked another tall man of about thirty years with short brown hair, wearing a black duster over casual clothes.

“Mostly lead.” Clark answered.

The man rolled his eyes, letting out a chuckle. “Why? To show off your strength?”

Indignantly, Clark replied, “I’ll have you know this stuff is extremely useful to me.”

“Yeah, yeah, where do you want these computers?”

“Just leave them on the table. Those are heavy, too, you know. Trying to show off your strength?”

“To who? Not like I’m gonna impress you.”

Chloe Sullivan ran in, her shoulder-length blond hair fluttering, with a small open printing box. “Hey, Clark, got the business cards and flyers!” She stopped short when she saw the other man in the room. “Hey! Is this…?” She pushed her hair behind her ear.

Clark stood between the two. “Yeah. Chloe Sullivan, I’d like you to mean Angel. Angel, Chloe.”

“Nice to meet you,” he replied amicably, extending his head.

“So, you’re like a vampire?” She couldn’t keep from biting her bottom lip with curiosity.

Smiling back, he replied, “Yeah, going on… 256 years now.”

“And you look great. What’s your secret?”

“Did I mention the vampire thing?” Clark laughed. “But, uh, as flattered as I am, I think I should mention that my girlfriend would want me to, well, mention that I have a girlfriend. You see, three nights a month, she’s not the nicest person to be around.”

“Well, me neither,” Chloe replied as she began to unpack the box she brought in.

Angel turned to Clark and commented, “Walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“I don’t get it,” Clark replied, deeply in thought. Angel laughed.

Chloe proudly displaced a flyer. With a dramatic flair, she read it off, “Look at that! ‘Archangel Investigations. We bring truth and justice to the hopeless.’” Her eyebrows rose expectantly.

Angel looked almost slighted. “Archangel Investigations? Are you kidding me?”

“What, too derivative?” Chloe asked, deflated. She examined the flyer with pursed lips.

Angel tried to look casual, pushing all his weight onto one foot. “It’s just, in the traditional Catholic hierarchy of angels, archangels are one level above traditional angels. I just figured, since you were a branch of us…”

Chloe paused. “Yeah… Smallville’s kind of a Baptist-Methodist town. Plus, I thought you went freelance now.”

Defeated, Angel replied, “That doesn’t mean… whatever. I do like the logo,” he offered, fingering the abstract drawing of an angel, wings flared, wearing a breastplate and raising a sword courageously in the air. “So, Chloe, what’s your job again?”

“Vision girl.”

Angel nodded. “We had one of those. You get a lot of business that way.”

“It’s an outgrowth of my psionic powers.” She studied his face.

“I hope you not trying to read me in someway. Vampires don’t cast a lot of reflections, literal and metaphysical.” Chloe scrunched her face in disappointment.

Clark stepped up to stand behind Chloe, commenting, “Chloe underrates herself. She’s the only one in this Scooby-Doo organization with any private-eye skills.”

Angel grinned, “That would make you the muscle?”

Clark didn’t quite know how to respond to that, “I guess so.”

“Well, Clark’s a lot more useful that just a thug,” came Lana’s voice from the door, carrying in another box. She wore a purple pant suit.

Clark’s manners were quick. “Angel, I’d like you to meet Lana Lang, our manager and receptionist.”

Angel, sizing her up with appreciation, commented, “Manager and receptionist. That’s quite a double role.”

Chloe stated, “Well, she’s the only one with business skills. Plus, what better face to put at the front desk?”

Angel leaned over to Clark and whispered, “Chloe does realize she’s pretty, right?”

Clark whispered back, “Lana was Homecoming Queen in high school. Chloe was the newspaper editor.”

Angel replied, “I know the types. Fell for both.”

Clark turned to Lana. “I’ve got a question. Lex was in the Champions of Kal-El. Why doesn’t he manage us? No offense.”

“None taken,” Lana replied passively, completely unoffended.

With a mock annoyed tone, Chloe reminded him, “In case you’ve forgotten, Lex already has a business to run. You know, so he can keep us afloat until we start, and I quote,” she dropped her voice, “‘bringing in a profit.’”

Angel offered a sympathetic tilt of the head, “Good luck. Easier said than done.”

“Plus, Clark… me and Lex… working together?” Lana let the implication speak for itself.

Clark nodded. “I get it. Though… we used to date, too.”

“It’s different, Clark Kent, and you know it.” Clark didn’t look like he knew it.

Angel looked at Lana as she started setting up the front desk. “Is she your boss?”

Clark didn’t reply, only called, “Lana?”

Lana, smiling, replied, “Technically, yes, Clark, but it’s not like I can fire you. Plus, Clark, I think you should really consider being the de jur manager, just for appearances.” She paused and added, “Though, Clark, you go evil again, your definitely getting the pink slip.”

“Pfft!” Angel remarked to himself, “I’m not the only one.”

Clark became indignant again. “When have I ever gone evil?”

“Red K?” Chloe suggested, passing him to head for the entrance.

“Or when Jor-El reprograms you,” mentioned Lana, approaching him.

Clark took a step back. “Look, red K takes away my conscience. And so does Jor-El.”

Angel, intrigued by the conversation, commented, “Wow. You really are perfect for my successor.”

* * *

Clark stood outside the hotel, his hands in his pocket and his eyes closed. The wind blew around him, but he remained with his head tilted back, silent as the night. To keep some semblance of secrecy, the team had begun to design alter egos for themselves. Clark had sent out Lana and Lois to pick out an outfit for him, telling them specifically to avoid black. Lana brought him navy slacks and a button-up shirt. Lois found a maroon duster. She wouldn’t say where she found it.

Behind him, in the hotel driveway, was a white 1979 Ford Thunderbird with its top down. Pete Ross was leaning against the hood, wearing a copper trench coat over a forest green shirt and jeans, looking bored. Lois sat in the passenger seat, her feet up on the dashboard, sighing. She brushed dirt off her fitted black slacks and white tank top: clothes specifically chosen for functionality.

“18^th and Palmer,” Clark stated passively as he ran off at full speed. Immediately, Pete hopped into the driver’s seat and raced off behind him.

“Tell me again why you get to drive?” Lois asked, putting on her seatbelt warily.

Handing her the nickel of the dashboard, he replied, “I won the coin toss. You get to drive tomorrow night.”

“What are we doing tomorrow night?”

Pete smiled, “The same thing we do every night, Lois. Try to save the world.”

“God, it rocks to be a child of the nineties.”

* * *

She struggled, writhing underneath him, flailing her arms in a desperate attempt to throw him off, but to no avail. She kicked furiously against him, but he kept himself on top of her, holding her down, peering at her with his yellow eyes and his cackling laugh. Even amidst the struggle, all she could think about was how this guy reminded her of Gollum from Lord of the Rings. It was not a bad comparison. His skin did look rather gray, but that could have been the low light. Nothing was what it seemed in an abandoned alley in the middle of the night. Though, attackers usually seemed bigger. This guy looked positively shrimpy. Judging by the position of his feet, he couldn’t have been much over five feet tall. And, despite his strong arms, he seemed to barely weigh a hundred. How can I be so observant at a time like this?

A large hand grasped the wrist of her attacker. If anything, it brought credence to her perceptions. His skin was tanned, and his hand was actually large, his grip more than able to wrap completely around the gray man’s skinny wrist. But then she doubted her perceptions again, because her rescuer’s hand just threw the tiny man thirty feet into a brick wall. And if that wasn’t impossible enough, the gray man got right back up and ran back over.

“Ran” in the sense of how a monkey runs: slouched over, arms dangling, and cackling. He leapt into the air at her rescuer, a tall, dark-haired man in what appeared to be a red leather duster. The monkey-man must have had very strong arms, because he lunged superhumanly fast, knocking over the man, which was saying a lot because this man was built like a brick wall. A crisp twang resounded through the air as a dart plunged itself into the creature—there was no better word for the abomination—causing it to howl animal-like before ripping the projectile out of its side and tossing it away. It landed near the young woman, petite with dark blonde hair. There was blood on it, and it had small green particles floating in it.

She looked up and saw the origin of the dart. Standing before a white car were a black man and a white woman. The man was holding a small crossbow and the woman a battleaxe. Macy just wanted to wake up from this bizarre dream. Her rescuer, the one that had launched the monkey-man into a building, was now cringing on the ground, groaning.

“You’re getting your ass whooped,” said the woman without an ounce of sympathy. Rolling her eyes, she walked over. The creature looked up at her and screeched predatorily. The woman simply placed an unrestrained chop to the creature throat, who gargled as he rolled off the man.

“He’s got kryptonite in his blood,” groaned Clark.

“Well that would explain a lot…”

Another inhuman howl echoed through the alleyway and the beast lunged at Lois. Without blinking, she supported all her weight on one foot and extended her other in the air, toward the creature. It promptly slammed into her foot, causing Lois to fall on top of Clark, who moaned again.

The monster lay still, curled up in a fetal position.

The dark-skinned man ran over. “Whoa, you get him in the heart, Lois?”

Lois looked down her leg. “Actually, looks like I missed, but take it from me, he got off lucky dying.” Both men groaned a lot louder than the taller one had earlier as Lois pulled her foot out of the creatures groin area.

Pete held up a water bottle he was holding and sprayed Clark’s clothes, causing the blood to seem off. All at once, Clark stood tall and strong again, giving his partners a “thanks” before walking back over to Macy.

“Hello, I’m with Archangel Investigations.” He handed the shaky Macy a business card. “Are you hurt?”

Looking at the card, Macy replied, “No. But thank you so much. What was that thing?”

Pete answered, “I don’t know. But we’ll try to figure it out.” Lois walked over with a tarp and handed it to Pete. He gave her a questioning look. She responded with a yeah-right look. Pete walked over to the creature.

Macy shivered as she faced Clark, asking questions a mile a minute in a broken voice, “You do this for a living? Am I going to have to pay you? ‘Cause I’m just a waitress—”

Clark held his hand up. “No, this was a public service. But, please, keep the card. If anything like this happens to you or anyone you know, call this number.”

Macy thumbed brushed over the “Inc.” part of the logo. “If you’re privately owned, how can you make money?”

Pete replied for Clark, with the creature wrapped up in a tarp hanging over his shoulder, “Trust me. These freaks… meta-humans, if you will, well, we’ve heard that there’s been a number of them loose on the street. Eventually, someone with the dough is gonna need our help and we’ve got to get the word out.” With this he stapled a flyer to a near-by telephone pole. “What I guess we’re saying is, word of mouth is a good thing for us.”

“Trust me, I won’t be able to shut up about this,” she said with a disturbed glance at the bulge in the tarp. She pocketed the business card.

Lois stood close to her. “Maybe you ought to take a cab. You’re awfully near Suicide Slums to be wandering around after dark.”

“I work around the corner. You can’t get a cab, not even a gypsy cab, until you hit 16^th Street.” She motioned to the next street over. Lois nodded.

As Clark, Pete, and Lois turned to walk away, she yelled back. “What do I call you?”

“I’m just a guardian archangel…” With this, he literally disappeared, leaving Macy stunned as Pete and Lois drove away.

* * *

In the basement of the hotel, Angel stood in an attack pose opposite of Pete on an exercise mat. To the side, Clark and Lois watched on. Lois turned to Clark. “By the way, Smallville, ‘I’m just a guardian archangel’? How lame is that?”

“Well, it’s not like I practiced that in front of the mirror. It’s just all I could come up with at the time. Look, Mom just got the Kansas seat in the House. It’s a rather bad time to be advertising that her son is some sort of superhuman vigilante. I’m still working on my alter ego.”

“Okay, Pete,” Angel stated, “come at me.”

Pete jumped forward with a hard punch to Angel’s shoulder. Angel quickly deflected the blow with his right arm and grabbed Pete’s other arm with his left hand and twisted it around.

“Uncle!” Pete cried immediately. Angel let him loose. “I’m telling you, man, my skills’re with the weapons.”

“Your entire body is a weapon. Lois took out the enemy last night with her foot.”

“With her pumps! Which, by the way, I’ve always maintained was a weapon. Just ask Erica Fox.”

“Who…?” Lois began to ask.

Clark answered for him. “Pete dated her the summer after our freshman year. She stepped on his foot at prom. Luckily, by that time, the dance was cancelled because of tornado warnings.”

“Is that the same dance that you—?”

“Yes,” Clark cut her off, in an annoyed voice.

Back on the battle floor, Angel held a large broadsword while Pete attacked him with two small, curved daggers. Pete moved gracefully, swinging his arms to deflect Angel’s strikes, often using both daggers to parry Angel’s stronger blows. He easily dodged the vampire’s attacks and made several powerful stabs, which Angel avoided by leaping, sometimes somersaulting, backwards.

Lois chuckled. “Whoa. Check out the Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.”

Pete struck at Angel’s left arm with the butt of one of his daggers, causing it to emit a metallic clang. He took a step back, mirroring the perplexed expressions of all those in the room.

“It’s an artificial arm. A friend of mine did some kind of magic voo-doo on it and now’s it’s indestructible.”

“Wow. It looks real.”

“She’s very good with her magic.”

Lois came in for closer examination. “How’d you lose it?”

“Well, when my crew and I effectively slaughtered this secret council of evil from the inside out, well, the parent company kind of sent out a demonic army of apocalyptic proportions. I was slaying a dragon.”

“You lost your arm slaying a dragon?” Chloe said incredulously from the top of the stairs. She moved her hands restlessly, apparently wishing there was a notebook in them. “You cannot honestly be leaving tonight!”

“Actually, I didn’t really lose it slaying the dragon. After sending it to Hell, I neglected to notice that I was sixty feet in the air. I landed pretty hard on a trash can. I cut up my arm pretty bad and… it was eaten off by a hellhound demon, I believe.”

“Well, my dog had superpowers for a while. There was this other one that also had superpowers that bit my dad in the arm. He was okay, though,” he finished softly.

Angel turned to Lois, “So, ready to take a shot at it?”

Lois uncertainly took a fighting pose. “I don’t know how to start.”

“Just try to attack me. We’ll play it by ear.”

With partial confidence, Lois nodded, “Okay, let’s try this.” She unassuredly wound up and punched at Angel, who easily caught the fist with one hand.

Lois briskly took hold of his wrist with her free hand and twisted hard. She expertly kicked Angel in the shin and twisted her elbow into his ribcage. He winced and took an uneven step backwards as Lois roundhouse-kicked him in the side. As he lay on the ground, Lois asked him, “How was that?”

“Okay, who taught you to fight?”

“Just some of the top drill sergeants at West Point.”

Sitting comfortably on an old desk with her arms resting behind her, Chloe added, “A couple of them taught her some other things, too.” Clark tried not to laugh.

“Oh, they learned a thing or two from me,” Lois snapped back with a coy smile. She turned to face Angel again. “Did I not mention that I’m the daughter of Three-Star General Sam Lane?”

“It must have slipped your mind,” Angel groaned as he got back up. “Try again.”

Lois took a straight shot at his neck, which Angel didn’t deflect, only striking her arm after her blow, and twisted his foot behind her, causing her to fall backwards. She stopped halfway down in midair and, defying gravity, righted herself.

“That’s a cool trick,” Angel commented with a raspy voice.

“You ain’t seen nothing, yet.” Lois leapt into the air, round-kicking again. Angel dodged and leapt up, grabbing her arms from behind and bringing her back down with the unexpected weight. He ran his arms around Lois’s, effectively locking her behind him.

In her ear, he whispered, “Can you guess what your mistake was?”

“Using the same trick twice?”

“Yes, but that’s not all.”

“Hitting a thing that doesn’t breathe in the neck?”

“Yes, and I don’t appreciate being called a ‘thing.’ Still not what I’m getting at.”

“Then what?” She struggled.

“Revealing your expertise to me. You’ve got army training. Army teaches teamwork, emphasizing holding your squad members’ lives above your own. Therefore, you focus on face-forward combat, because you don’t expect your comrades to stab you in the back. Ergo, I strike from behind.”

“Okay, let off, Dracula. Why don’t you kick Smallville around the room a little bit?”

Clark passed Lois, remarking, “Why? I was kind of enjoying seeing you being taken down a notch.”

Angel replied solemnly, “I don’t want you to take your powers for granted. Superhuman doesn’t mean immortal. You have to be quick.” To illustrate his point, he punched Clark hard in the chest with his left arm.

The force of the punch created a sonic blast. Pete and Lois fell back; Chloe rolled off the desk; and Clark took a small step backwards, briefly rubbing the area. As the others pulled themselves to their feet, Angel twisted his prosthetic arm, creating a mechanical clank and an anatomical pop. Shaking it out, Angel asked, “Clark, what are you made of?”

Rubbing her neck, Chloe replied, “We’re not sure. It’s not like we can do a tissue sample.”

Pete added, “I’ve seen bullets bounce off of him.”

“I once hit him with my car going sixty,” Lex stated from the top of the stairs. His presence had the effect of silencing a room. “Thirty seconds later, he’s ripping the roof off my Ferrari.” Angel merely stared suspiciously at Lex, who commented, “I would lay off the misgivings, Mr. Angel. Clark has shown me enough distrust in my lifetime for the both of you.”

“Lex…” Clark tried to reply.

“No, no, Clark, no need to defend yourself. If there’s anyone who understands the fragility of trust, it’s me.”

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Angel stated with no less wariness, “but in a past life, the megacorporation was my greatest enemy.”

“How mythic,” Lex replied coolly.

* * *

High on the rooftop of the Euryphaessa Hotel, Angel stood on the ledge with the five members of Archangel Investigations standing behind him, seemingly in position: Clark in the center, Pete and Lois flanking him on his left, Chloe on his right, with Lana farther to the right, holding an air of authority.

Without turning to face them, he said, “You’re doing a good thing. There is no higher calling than to help those who can’t help themselves. Metropolis is a good city and well worth saving. And you may be one of the few capable of doing it. It won’t be easy. You won’t always do the right thing. I sure didn’t.” He finally turned around.

Lois, uncomfortable with the solemnity in her voice, asked, “Where’re you going?”

“Romania. I have friends there. Hopefully, I can convince a few to visit you, share their expertise.”

Chloe spoke up. “You think we’ll need it?”

Angel sighed. “You’d know better than I would. And I have a feeling the city will very much need your aid.” With this, he leapt off the roof. Clark burst into superspeed, but as he looked over the edge, with the rest of his team in tow, Angel was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Lex stood in the main elevator of LuthorCorp, passively reading an expense report. Only certain buttons of the elevator were lit up. After Lex swiped a key card, they all lit up, including the 33 button that he pressed. As the elevator neared the Floor 33, Lex pressed his thumb into a scanner, and the elevator, once reaching 33, jerked up another few feet.

The metal doors opened, revealing a long corridor below a metal walkway. The first thing Lex saw was the shaggy mane of his father, holding his cane and leaning against the railing on a metal platform overlooking the expansive room.

“So nice of you to join me, Lex,” Lionel Luthor commented without turning around.

“So, what was this urgent message you wanted to see me about?”

“Project Silverdust was a failure. Your little play-detective agency send in the body. I hear that it was the muffin peddler who defeated him.”

Lex paused for effect, “So, you’re thinking maybe we ought to send one out with a little more power?”

Lionel turned to face his son, a wicked smile appearing on his face, “I had hoped you would say that, my boy. Come with me to Cell 9.”

The cells were simple, unlit 8-foot cubes, with heavy glass on the front side. The walls of Cell 9 were lined with a thick layer of rubber. Only a shadow could be seen within. Suddenly, a large blast of electricity crackled against the door.

“He’s leeched over 1.2 gigawatts of electricity since exposure,” explained Lionel.

Lex smiled. “Well, that can’t be good for our utility bills. We release him at dawn.” It was neither an order nor a question.

~

Director’s Commentary: I’d like to start out and give a big thanks to guest star David Boreanaz. He was kind enough to take some time off the set of Bones to briefly revive his role as the vampire with a soul. I’d also like to thank Joss Whedon for his help in putting this show together. I think he’s the only reason David even got on board. Any resemblance of the CGI FOTW in this episode and Joss is strictly coincidental and/or the work of a now-unemployed graphic artist. He actually directed the first scene and the rooftop scene. I will never do as good of work as him.

Tom Welling is awesome. A lot of people never expected him to reprise his role as Clark Kent. I don’t know where the costume department (her name is Ashley) found a red trench coat, but I suspect dye was involved. She also makes all of Chloe’s jewelry by hand.

This show also marks the first time Sam Jones III (“Pete Ross”) and Erica Durance (“Lois Lane”) will be on screen together. The two actors have a great report, and it’s a joy to work with both. They do their own stunts, by the way.

Kristin Kreuk has only gotten lovelier. Somehow she brings new life to the role of Lana Lang, and I am dedicated to keeping her character well-written.

God, I love Allison Mack, who plays Chloe Sullivan. Not only is she lovely (it would take a lot of work by the hair, make-up, and costume people to make her look bad, which fortunately they don’t), but she puts everything into a scene no matter how worthless the director is. And I’m not taking about Joss.

Michael Rosenbaum is still the damn best Lex Luthor I’ve had the pleasure to write or direct. It was unfortunate that his latest movie ran over in filming, and he had to have a shortened part in the pilot. I assure you that this will remedied.

And what can I say about John Glover? Three hours is all I needed from him. Lionel is still a magnificent bastard.

You may have noted Mark Lutz in the flashback. That scene was salvaged from the discarded CoKE sequel. He’s great, playing the role of Groo, and we hope to have him back soon. And, of course, that was Terrence Stamp’s voice in the background.

Also, those of you with keen eyes would have recognized Laura Bertram of Andromeda fame portraying the part of “Macy.”

On the next episode of Archangel Investigations: the team battles a powerful meta. Chloe’s visions start to take their toll. And AAI gets another visitor.

“Sorry I thought you were a ghost,” Chloe said to the dark-haired woman in the lobby.

“Good guess.”

~

^_^ - Hmm, it was okay, but I was gravely disappointed in the lack of Hot!Chloeness.

Episode 102: Gift

©2006, 2007 Godeerc VanDrey Enterprises, Inc. Created Wednesday, November 1, 2006. Updated Sunday, November 19, 2006. Updated Saturday, December 31, 2006. Updated Saturday, January 27, 2007. Updated Saturday, February 10, 2007. Updated Sunday, May 6, 2007.