Benjamin Franklin Gates (![]() ![]() @ 2009-03-12 09:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !entry post, ben gates, sebastian |
Who: Ben Gates and greeter
What: Entering the Hotel
When: this morning, Thursday, March 12, 2009
Where: Ben and Abigail's home/Hotel lobby
Status: Incomplete
Luck was an important factor in Benjamin Franklin Gates' life. Whether or not he was willing or not to admit to that was another matter entirely. For instance, his entire meeting of Abigail Chase hinged upon his association with the blackguard Ian Howe and his finding of the Charlotte and the meerschaum pipe which led to the realization that the secret lay in invisible secret code on the back of the Declaration of Independence which led to Ian trying to kill him and Riley Poole (which obviously failed, due to Ben's quick thinking and knowledge of ship structue) which led to their attempts to warn various governmental agencies of the upcoming theft of aforementioned important document which led to his being at the Smithsonian Institute - face to face with Abigail Chase. Ben preferred to call their meeting Fate. For if it was luck, then his luck had taken a decided downturn since the discovery of the treasure which had brought them great notoriety (not to mention more than a little cash) and set them up in the beautiful home which they now inhabited.
Correction. Which Abigail now inhabited, having requested that Benjamin vacate the premises some short time before. And which they were in the process of dividing up the contents therein - a thoroughly messy and sticky situation in and of itself, not to mention any emotional ramifications thereof.
But luck was decidedly on Benjamin's side, albeit a warped sort of luck, which involved Abigail being out of the house and Riley having just had his Ferrari 360 Spider towed away by the IRS (for sundry and complicated reasons which could all be laid at the feet of his shady accountant) and, to make a long story short (I know, too late), now he was at his former home, Riley in tow, with the intent of entering the premises.
It may be asked why he felt the need to break into a place that he should have had ready access to, via a key, which of course was Riley's first question as he uneasily accompanied Ben up the steps to the rather palatial home, to which Ben replied, "Abigail changed the security code," which, of course, explained it all, especially why he needed Riley's assistance in gaining entry.
"We have thirty seconds once we get in to enter the code," Ben warned his friend, as if to impress upon him that time was of the essence.
"Got it," Riley affirmed, as they entered the front door, which set off the security system, naturally, and he went to work on the little box set just inside the front door. There - mission accomplished - and in only twenty-five seconds.
Ben brushed aside Riley's self-congratulations as he headed up the stairs, toward the study.
"I forgot to ask, just what do you need so badly that you had to break in?" Riley asked, following him curiously, "why didn't you just ask her?"
"Because she won't talk to me," Ben replied, as he opened the top drawer of her desk, rifling through the contents, "and besides, she wouldn't say yes anyway." There it was, Abigail's Smithsonian badge. He palmed it handily, closed the drawer. "I need this, it's very important...."
Riley started to ask another hundred questions, but they could see the reflection of headlights outside. Ben glanced out the window, more than a little curious. "That's not Abigail's car," he commented, as he watched the dark sedan pull up, the headlights go out. "Oh crap, she's on a .... date..." The last word was said rather incredulously as if he hadn't wanted to believe it was possible, but could not deny the evidence of his own eyes.
"What?" Riley glanced too, unbelieving. "Isn't that that government guy, whatsisname?"
"Yeah, him," Ben commented drily, turning away from the sight of his girl and the officious ass. Thinking quickly he and Riley ran down the stairs, past the landing at the front door, and down into the lower level. Ben turned one way, Riley the other, inadvertently, Ben heading down one corridor, away from his friend, before he picked up a box from one of the rooms, laden with his own possessions - just what he didn't know or care - and decided to bluff it out, since basically she would know someone was there when she noticed the alarm disabled.
He turned and calmly made his way back toward the stairs. He could do this. He was an adult, after all. Even if the woman he loved was in the company of some half-brained government entity. He marched up the stairs with dignity, already formulating what he would say to Abigail. But then the strangest thing happened... It was as if the landing had changed in some very strange way, and almost seemed to fall away around him, and the front door to their house was not what it used to be, it was completely different, and when he opened the door, a perplexed expression upon his handsome face, he found himself, not outside, as he had expected, but in the lobby of a rather ornate gilt hotel, decorated in golds and reds and rather plush. Not that Ben was not used to plush, but he had to admit it was nicely done. The question remained, though, where the hell was he, and what had just happened?
Clutching the box carefully, Abigail's badge in his pocket, where he had pushed it out of sight, he surveyed the lobby before deciding a frontal assault would be the best. He approached the front desk, glancing around for any sign of life, before ringing the bell one time, waiting to see what would happen, his inquiring mind engaged in deciphering this very intriguing situation.
*Benjamin Franklin