by Morphea

Hothead Paisan threw her legs over the back of the chair and stared at the receptionist. Secretary. Whatever. Maker of coffee. Filer of files. Answerer of telephones and greeter of clients. Reassurer of creepy old bosses -- crosser of legs and flutterer of eyelashes. Fucking slave...

"Roz," she whispered, "Different perspective. Just as bad upside down as right side up."

Roz nodded up the Paisanities, more engrossed in the soft, deeply furred belly of the sickly Chicken than the impending nuclear meltdown squirming around next to her.

"Awww, Chicklet," Hothead murmured as she tickled her cat under the chin, "We'll get you better. I've heard good things about this place... Though the 36-24-36 decor makes me wonder. I wish our herr witch doktor would hurry up and get here."

She drifted into slash and burn daydreams as her body slid down the chair to the tile. Her bony shoulders were just barely propping her body up when a cute little explosion sent her sprawling forward.

In the second it took her to focus her eyes, fire flushed through the office as dark creepycreepycreepy figures came in on the crest of a wave of glass. Hothead felt toenails mash into her abdomen and heard the Secretary Barbie squeal. Hothead flipped over and landed her own big black boot in some shoulder blades and made a mad dash across the room, pulling a petrified Roz and a lump of Chicken back behind the desk. She tucked them away and patted her thighs. Ha! This wasn't anything a homicidal lesbian terrorist and her homicidal lesbian arsenal couldn't handle.

She hauled her rifle over the desk and looking down her scope, she saw gauzy smoke dissipate from drooping corpses as large reverberating bolts jutted out of the chest cavities. Paisan traced the trajectory back with her eyes and promptly swooned.

"Oh, sorry about that. People are always trying to kill my boss. It's one of the top ten most deadly practices among Evil Incarnate, aged 200 to 850. This is kind of gross, I'm really sorry about that," Cordelia trailed off, crossbow in one hand and a gun in the other, "And I'm going to have to stay late, again, with no fucking overtime."

Paisan felt something rumble in her chest as she watched this brassy Amazon get all corporate and... oh, little light bulb god no! Spritzy...

Just then one of the yucky corpsy things arose and rushed the secretary lady. Hothead's pupils dilated as the woman decked the demon and pistol whipped it before putting a whole round of bullets through the monster's head.

Splitter splatter!

Bow chicka bow wow.

"Oh, Roz... I think I'm in love..."

Roz chuckled back, just as softly.

"Anyway, your appointment is still on. I hope we haven't rattled your cat," Cordelia murmured as she knelt down to give Chicken a nice long scratch with her nice long fingernails, a rare pleasure indeed.

"My name's Cordelia, by the way."

Hothead eyes ran up from the black pumps to the blood n' dirt saturated dress. The big yellow stars that popped up in Hothead's eyes caused coagulation and antibodies to sprout up so thickly that her heart almost stopped beating.

Cordelia... She was quite the vision of gore covered loveliness... Bad tempered, vicious, violentviolentviolentviolent... Oh yeah, baby, this is where it's at...

A voice on the floor gasped wetly, interrupting Hothead's reverie, "You weak impudent little girl! Get out of our way, child-thing, it is your master who concerns us! Not some servant!"

The monster made a weak lunge at Cordelia, who rolled her eyes. Panting, the monster swiped at her shoes. Cordelia kicked it in the head. Monster dude toppled back.

Just then a dark figure descended on the room, doing flippy kicks and grunting. Cordelia shrieked as he grabbed her by the waist and thrust her into the corner; she pulled herself back up and started screaming at him.

"Angel -- what the fuck is your problem?!"

"Cordelia. Thank goodness I got here in time. Do you need any bandages? Are you hurt?"

"Hello?! Are you blind? How dense can someone be -- God, I get no credit around here. Nada. Just because I've got slender ankles you think I can't kick ass."

Angel looked at her quizzically, "I don't understand... What are you saying? Did you have head trauma?"

Twitches twitched. Hothead watched as the secretary slipped off one of her heels and threw it at full force, lodging it in the man's head. Cordelia pulled a knife out of her desk and stomped over.

"I am sick and tired of this. *whack* Of your stupid world! Your stupid male world *chop* with its stupid male lead *chop* fighting with other stupid male supporting characters *chop* and stupid male guest stars *chop* on stupid male plotlines *chopchopchopitychop*!"

She wiped her brow and picked up the stapler.

"I'm not going to pretend I'm all needy *whack* just so you have someone to save for your redemption! *staple* I'm not going to pretend to be all helpless so you can swoop in and look tough so everyone goes Oh, My Hero! Hell, no! *gouge* I'm sick of every other woman around her needing your help! *eviscerate* I'm sick of every other woman around here getting shipped off right after she arrives because oh, if a person who enters your little world is female then she's got to be a potential love interest but she never ever compares to your precious Buffy! So, poof! Gone! At least when Buffy was around I at least got to talk to girls! But here? Where the hell is Kate? Jheira? Lilah? FAITH!? Anybody out there?"

"Anybody in here?" She screamed as she hit Angel on the head with her modem.

"Hm. Guess not. But anyway, that doesn't change the fact that the status quo totally sucks!"

Breathing hard, Cordelia perched over the chopped up remains of Sir Tall, Dark, and Handsome the Tall, Dark, and Handsome.

Oh, baby. Hothead Paisan grinned. Hothead Paisan had a plan. Hothead Paisan shooed Roz and Chicken out the door. Hothead Paisan sidled up next to the irate Cordelia lady and smiled broadly as she stuck a big piece of dynamite in Angel's left eye socket. She lit a match and offered it to Cordelia. Cordelia took it from her and touched it to the fuse in a really romantic sort of way.

They looked deepdeepdeep in each others' eyes and whispered, "Run..."

They bolted, tumbling onto the pavement outside as a fire popped in the office. They fell to the ground, leaning on the glass-soaked pavement. Hothead brushed ash off of Cordelia's forehead, and Cordelia blushed. Cordelia hugged Hothead, and Hothead kissed Cordelia on the cheek.

"Cordelia, I was thinking... You wanna quit this gig? You can come to my world! You don't have to take this kind of, um, very charred and chopped up now, kind of crap any longer! You are way too-- too-- Cordeliaish to have to live like this! I mean, you -- YOU! -- you're what happens if you held a lighter to a Spritz! Pure acetylene yumminess! Come with me, please? We could bring justice to pigs everywhere; we could free young women from hetero pinup life! We could have so much fun... Pleasepleaseplease?"

Cordelia got up and brushed herself off, taking Hothead's hand in her own.

"Sure. Sounds cool. You're on."

Turned? Very.

They walked into the sunset together, Roz and Chicken and Hothead and the free free free fucking free already Cordelia Chase.

Though Cordelia's voice could be heard, just as brassy as ever from the shrinking silhouettes.

"So I'm thinking, you're Hothead Paisan, big black boots and all. What about me... Cordelia Chase... Can I be Posh Paisan?"