Access All Areas, Chapter Seven.
9 Mar 2007 07:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
curiouswombatI've been working quite hard this week, but I have finished the next Chapter of Access All Areas.
So -
Access All Areas.
Chapter Seven,
Rated; 15
Words; 2,200
Dawn & Spike (mainly!)
Previous Chapters are here
Spike stood on the steps of the Prague Public Records Office, aware still of Dawn’s scent on the edge of his consciousness, and forced himself to think. For crying out loud, he should be able to bloody think – he been to fucking Cambridge at a time when philosophy was more or less compulsory. OK, in his day Cambridge was more a sign of wealth than brains, but even so, the whole idea of philosophy was to make you bloody think – so let’s channel whatever is left of that student.
How likely is it that Dawn’s been captured because she is The Key? Not very – all those cloaking spells mean even her bloody sister seems very able to forget it.
Because she is something to do with Watching and Slaying? Hold her hostage for some reason? Could be. Would probably be demons then, but it could be humans. Might have to find a local demon bar or whatever. Might have to wait until he can get hold of Milan for that.
Snatched at random for the sex-trade because she’s a good looking bird? Happens. Happens more than ‘polite society’ likes to think. She looks young enough to be a visiting student, easy prey.
Could have been mugged and still lying somewhere ‘cos no-one’s called an ambulance. Better at self-defence than the average young woman, and even if she was in a gutter somewhere it’s a busy city and the Czechs are not bad people – can’t imagine them just stepping over her. Would have to be somewhere very quiet.
Right. Start walking from here to the university, if she is lying injured or – no, there is no ‘or’ – if she is lying injured in a back alley, he’d catch her scent.
And if it was the sex trade he had a contact.
Of course! He had a fucking contact! The guy Le Requin had put him in touch with before he left Paris ‘in case’.
Ring the bugger, what was his name? Karel, silly name for a guy, but what the hell. Can even do it whilst walking across this big open square, no-one would have jumped her during the day in this big public pedestrianised area.
He took out his phone and found the number. He remembered that Fish-face (his own nickname for Le Requin – The Shark) had used a mixture of English and German to talk to the Czech. Karel would just have to cope with English – Spike was in too much of a hurry to think of even the German, let alone any Czech.
“Karel? Spike here. Le Requin’s man.”
“Spike from Paris?”
Spike recognized the heavy accent from that introductory call a couple of weeks earlier.
“Yes. Look Karel, I need a favour,” Spike spoke as he walked across the square. “My girl’s gone missing. She was going to meet me, what, four hours ago, and she’s disappeared. I think someone’s snatched her. Any ideas?”
There was a slight pause, Spike wanted to yell “Hurry, man,” but realized Karel probably had to translate both his question and the answer a word or a phase at a time. “Would anyone take her to… přepadnout… angriff… attack at you?”
‘Bugger!’ Spike thought, ‘I hadn’t even thought of that. If any bastard has thought of that I’ll… I’ll…’ He could feel the demon trying to come to the front, and took a deep breath before answering.
“Maybe. I thought it would have been for the Fleischmarkt*, an accident, but maybe.”
“Local men would not take a woman from the street in day, but there are some German Turks arrived two days ago. We do not know why they are here. You have annoyed the Germans or the Turks?”
‘Two days ago?’ Spike’s mind raced. Only a couple of days after Dawn and himself had arrived, it could be a co-incidence, but maybe not.
“Might have. Don’t know. But it is a good idea, mate.”
“They are at a house just a little outside the old city,” Karel informed Spike. “It is… nájemný … the tourists rent it in summer.”
A lead, a proper lead. It might turn out to be a dead-end, but it was the best lead Spike had at the moment. And without an owner occupier the house would not be subject to the occult rule that barred him from a dwelling without an invitation. If the ‘German Turks’ were squatting, or renting on a casual basis, he might well be able to walk straight in.
Karel, obviously wanting to keep on the right side of any colleague of his own primary French contact, offered to find out whether anyone knew any more about a possible kidnap by these ‘out-of-towners’. He offered to get some people together to help Spike stage a rescue mission if necessary.
Spike couldn’t wait that long – he took the address and thanked Karel, said he would get back to him if he needed help and started striding in the direction the Czech had suggested.
‘I’ll find her,’ he thought. ‘I can look after her without the Council. Got my own contacts. And I’ll kill every bastard in the house if she’s there.’
*Fleischmarkt – the ‘meat-market’ – trade in young women.
…………………………………..
Dawn was awake. ‘Conscious,’ she corrected herself, ‘I was unconscious, and now I am conscious.’
She listened, eyes still closed, but there was no discernable sound, only her own breathing, and her own heartbeat. She hurt. She had a feeling that she was going to hurt even more when she tried to open her eyes. The men had not been gentle about ‘questioning’ her, when she didn’t give them the answers they had wanted, and her face felt swollen.
They knew about The Key. Or rather, to be more accurate, the person they were working for knew about The Key. Knew about the cloaking spells as well, apparently, as the one who had been interrogating her had a piece of paper with the questions written on it. “Where is The Key? We know that you have it. Give it to me now and we will not hurt you.”
She had wondered if his ‘crib-sheet’ had instructions on as well. Two men had kept guns trained on her from about seven or eight feet away as she denied knowing what they were talking about; as the questioner tipped everything out of her bag and peered at it suspiciously; as he had stripped her clothes off her as part of his search; and as he had slapped and punched her to ‘persuade’ her to co-operate.
“Where is The Key? We know that you have it. Give it to me now and we will not hurt you.” Even as he was hurting her.
He had spoken to her in bad English, but to his mates in German mostly. They didn’t look German, but Dawn knew that there were second and third generation Turks in the German criminal world, and so guessed that these guys must be some of them.
They obviously didn’t think that she would understand German – not many Americans did – and she got the impression that they hadn’t even thought of the possibility. But Dawn had learnt it to read a number of documents in the original. She had quite a talent for languages, unlike her sister, and, although she could read it better than speak it, she could understand a lot of what was being said.
They thought she was a Slayer – that was clear, as they addressed her as such – but just at the moment Dawn couldn’t decide whether that was an advantage or not. Maybe it meant that they had hit her harder. She wasn’t sure. Eventually they had stopped hitting her.
Then the one who had been shouting at her (“Where is The Key? We know that you have it. Give it to me now and we will not hurt you.”) spoke to someone on the phone, and then came back with a syringe, laughing nastily. “Soon you will be powerless, weak woman.”
Dawn had been scared – she already felt close to passing out from the beating, now what the hell was this stuff? More of what they had given her in the car, she guessed. But when he depressed the plunger this time she did not find herself immediately losing consciousness. She really didn’t feel much different. But she decided it would be best to look as if she felt weaker and close to losing consciousness and so she let herself fall limply onto the arms of the two men holding her still.
They had just dropped her onto the floor, hitting her head, and she found herself losing consciousness anyway. One man was laughing and, although she was now too woozy to understand the German he spoke, she heard the word “Fuck” and her last thought before she did lose consciousness was ‘Oh no. Not that.’
She wasn’t sure how long it had been until the first time she had come around. She had become all too rudely aware of her surroundings but had fought with herself to keep her body limp and her eyes closed. That was when she had realized that closed was easier than open anyway.
There was pain, pain all over that had already been caused, and specific pain that was being caused. At first she thought she was being raped then realized, as her mind cleared more, that someone was just taking the search for The Key to its ultimate conclusion and searching her internally as well.
She wanted to scream, or vomit, but forced herself to offer no resistance. Better they think that whatever they had injected into her had left her unconscious. There had been voices in German again. One seemed to want to rape her anyway, but the other voice said he should keep his trousers zipped, at least until the Boss said it would be alright.
That same voice continued that he hadn’t thought the ‘stuff’ was supposed to make her pass out, just weaken her, and it just proved that these Slayers were not really strong at all. He hoped that she would come round before ‘Hakim’ and ‘Das Englander’ arrived or there might be trouble.
When the pain stopped Dawn had lost consciousness again.
This time she decided that she would have to open her eyes and try to assess the situation. Then maybe try to move.
Her eyelashes were stuck together, and she went as if to rub them, only to realize that her hands were tied. She thought about it for a little longer, and realized that they were behind her back, that she could wriggle her fingers but not her thumbs – her thumbs were bound tightly to each other with something that dug into the flesh. ‘Tie-wraps,’ Dawn thought; she had been taught the same trick, and all too effective it was.
Her feet were bound together as well. ‘Fuck!’ she thought, and went back to trying to force her eyes open by sheer will power.
Eventually she could see a little through swollen eyes. She was lying on a mattress in a room lit by a single light bulb. There were no windows and the lower part of the walls looked discoloured and mouldy. A basement, then, probably one prone to being flooded. She felt cold – she was wearing her jumper and nothing else, a blanket thrown across her lower body only partly covering it. She remembered the feeling of the man roughly checking that The Key was not hidden inside her body, and felt nauseated again.
She considered whether she did, indeed feel weak. ‘Not really’, she decided. ‘My head hurts like crazy, but the light isn’t hurting me, and I can only see one light bulb, so no double vision or signs of concussion.’
She couldn’t immediately see how she could get out of her prison, and lay there with her mind going around in circles. The only thought that she came back to, time and time again, was ‘Spike will rescue me, he’ll be here soon.’
…………………………………..
It took Spike nearly an hour to find the street where Karel had told him the ‘out-of-towners’ were staying. He had looked up a map on-line, using his phone, and he gave a mental nod of thanks for twenty-first century technology. The houses were nondescript, the street full of parked cars, and then – there – he could smell Dawn!
He’d done it! On his own, without the bloody Council, or a Slayer. He would show these bastards if they thought they could take his girl!
The shutters were closed and so no-one inside could see Spike approach the door, now moving silently, like a shadow. He paused. The scent of Dawn was all around him. The scent of Dawn and fear and blood.
Only barely registering that there were four or five heartbeats in the room behind it Spike threw himself at the door, feeling it splinter around him as he did a break-fall, and rolled back up to his feet in the middle of the floor. His guess had been right, there was no invisible barrier, and now these bastards would be his prey.
A swarthy looking man, dark hair gelled in a style that had been out of fashion even when Angel had worn it ten years previously, snatched a gun from the table in front of him. Spike leapt forward but the man pushed the table hard towards him and fired before Spike could reach him.
As the bullet hit him in the chest Spike laughed and kept going forward. He was just shifting into game face when something hit him hard on the back of the head and everything went black.
…………………………………..
The ’BtVS’ characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only and all rights remain with Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the writers of the original episodes, and the TV and production companies responsible for the original television shows. BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER ©2002 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All Rights Reserved. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer trademark is used without express permission from Fox.
So -
Access All Areas.
Chapter Seven,
Rated; 15
Words; 2,200
Dawn & Spike (mainly!)
Previous Chapters are here
Spike stood on the steps of the Prague Public Records Office, aware still of Dawn’s scent on the edge of his consciousness, and forced himself to think. For crying out loud, he should be able to bloody think – he been to fucking Cambridge at a time when philosophy was more or less compulsory. OK, in his day Cambridge was more a sign of wealth than brains, but even so, the whole idea of philosophy was to make you bloody think – so let’s channel whatever is left of that student.
How likely is it that Dawn’s been captured because she is The Key? Not very – all those cloaking spells mean even her bloody sister seems very able to forget it.
Because she is something to do with Watching and Slaying? Hold her hostage for some reason? Could be. Would probably be demons then, but it could be humans. Might have to find a local demon bar or whatever. Might have to wait until he can get hold of Milan for that.
Snatched at random for the sex-trade because she’s a good looking bird? Happens. Happens more than ‘polite society’ likes to think. She looks young enough to be a visiting student, easy prey.
Could have been mugged and still lying somewhere ‘cos no-one’s called an ambulance. Better at self-defence than the average young woman, and even if she was in a gutter somewhere it’s a busy city and the Czechs are not bad people – can’t imagine them just stepping over her. Would have to be somewhere very quiet.
Right. Start walking from here to the university, if she is lying injured or – no, there is no ‘or’ – if she is lying injured in a back alley, he’d catch her scent.
And if it was the sex trade he had a contact.
Of course! He had a fucking contact! The guy Le Requin had put him in touch with before he left Paris ‘in case’.
Ring the bugger, what was his name? Karel, silly name for a guy, but what the hell. Can even do it whilst walking across this big open square, no-one would have jumped her during the day in this big public pedestrianised area.
He took out his phone and found the number. He remembered that Fish-face (his own nickname for Le Requin – The Shark) had used a mixture of English and German to talk to the Czech. Karel would just have to cope with English – Spike was in too much of a hurry to think of even the German, let alone any Czech.
“Karel? Spike here. Le Requin’s man.”
“Spike from Paris?”
Spike recognized the heavy accent from that introductory call a couple of weeks earlier.
“Yes. Look Karel, I need a favour,” Spike spoke as he walked across the square. “My girl’s gone missing. She was going to meet me, what, four hours ago, and she’s disappeared. I think someone’s snatched her. Any ideas?”
There was a slight pause, Spike wanted to yell “Hurry, man,” but realized Karel probably had to translate both his question and the answer a word or a phase at a time. “Would anyone take her to… přepadnout… angriff… attack at you?”
‘Bugger!’ Spike thought, ‘I hadn’t even thought of that. If any bastard has thought of that I’ll… I’ll…’ He could feel the demon trying to come to the front, and took a deep breath before answering.
“Maybe. I thought it would have been for the Fleischmarkt*, an accident, but maybe.”
“Local men would not take a woman from the street in day, but there are some German Turks arrived two days ago. We do not know why they are here. You have annoyed the Germans or the Turks?”
‘Two days ago?’ Spike’s mind raced. Only a couple of days after Dawn and himself had arrived, it could be a co-incidence, but maybe not.
“Might have. Don’t know. But it is a good idea, mate.”
“They are at a house just a little outside the old city,” Karel informed Spike. “It is… nájemný … the tourists rent it in summer.”
A lead, a proper lead. It might turn out to be a dead-end, but it was the best lead Spike had at the moment. And without an owner occupier the house would not be subject to the occult rule that barred him from a dwelling without an invitation. If the ‘German Turks’ were squatting, or renting on a casual basis, he might well be able to walk straight in.
Karel, obviously wanting to keep on the right side of any colleague of his own primary French contact, offered to find out whether anyone knew any more about a possible kidnap by these ‘out-of-towners’. He offered to get some people together to help Spike stage a rescue mission if necessary.
Spike couldn’t wait that long – he took the address and thanked Karel, said he would get back to him if he needed help and started striding in the direction the Czech had suggested.
‘I’ll find her,’ he thought. ‘I can look after her without the Council. Got my own contacts. And I’ll kill every bastard in the house if she’s there.’
*Fleischmarkt – the ‘meat-market’ – trade in young women.
…………………………………..
Dawn was awake. ‘Conscious,’ she corrected herself, ‘I was unconscious, and now I am conscious.’
She listened, eyes still closed, but there was no discernable sound, only her own breathing, and her own heartbeat. She hurt. She had a feeling that she was going to hurt even more when she tried to open her eyes. The men had not been gentle about ‘questioning’ her, when she didn’t give them the answers they had wanted, and her face felt swollen.
They knew about The Key. Or rather, to be more accurate, the person they were working for knew about The Key. Knew about the cloaking spells as well, apparently, as the one who had been interrogating her had a piece of paper with the questions written on it. “Where is The Key? We know that you have it. Give it to me now and we will not hurt you.”
She had wondered if his ‘crib-sheet’ had instructions on as well. Two men had kept guns trained on her from about seven or eight feet away as she denied knowing what they were talking about; as the questioner tipped everything out of her bag and peered at it suspiciously; as he had stripped her clothes off her as part of his search; and as he had slapped and punched her to ‘persuade’ her to co-operate.
“Where is The Key? We know that you have it. Give it to me now and we will not hurt you.” Even as he was hurting her.
He had spoken to her in bad English, but to his mates in German mostly. They didn’t look German, but Dawn knew that there were second and third generation Turks in the German criminal world, and so guessed that these guys must be some of them.
They obviously didn’t think that she would understand German – not many Americans did – and she got the impression that they hadn’t even thought of the possibility. But Dawn had learnt it to read a number of documents in the original. She had quite a talent for languages, unlike her sister, and, although she could read it better than speak it, she could understand a lot of what was being said.
They thought she was a Slayer – that was clear, as they addressed her as such – but just at the moment Dawn couldn’t decide whether that was an advantage or not. Maybe it meant that they had hit her harder. She wasn’t sure. Eventually they had stopped hitting her.
Then the one who had been shouting at her (“Where is The Key? We know that you have it. Give it to me now and we will not hurt you.”) spoke to someone on the phone, and then came back with a syringe, laughing nastily. “Soon you will be powerless, weak woman.”
Dawn had been scared – she already felt close to passing out from the beating, now what the hell was this stuff? More of what they had given her in the car, she guessed. But when he depressed the plunger this time she did not find herself immediately losing consciousness. She really didn’t feel much different. But she decided it would be best to look as if she felt weaker and close to losing consciousness and so she let herself fall limply onto the arms of the two men holding her still.
They had just dropped her onto the floor, hitting her head, and she found herself losing consciousness anyway. One man was laughing and, although she was now too woozy to understand the German he spoke, she heard the word “Fuck” and her last thought before she did lose consciousness was ‘Oh no. Not that.’
She wasn’t sure how long it had been until the first time she had come around. She had become all too rudely aware of her surroundings but had fought with herself to keep her body limp and her eyes closed. That was when she had realized that closed was easier than open anyway.
There was pain, pain all over that had already been caused, and specific pain that was being caused. At first she thought she was being raped then realized, as her mind cleared more, that someone was just taking the search for The Key to its ultimate conclusion and searching her internally as well.
She wanted to scream, or vomit, but forced herself to offer no resistance. Better they think that whatever they had injected into her had left her unconscious. There had been voices in German again. One seemed to want to rape her anyway, but the other voice said he should keep his trousers zipped, at least until the Boss said it would be alright.
That same voice continued that he hadn’t thought the ‘stuff’ was supposed to make her pass out, just weaken her, and it just proved that these Slayers were not really strong at all. He hoped that she would come round before ‘Hakim’ and ‘Das Englander’ arrived or there might be trouble.
When the pain stopped Dawn had lost consciousness again.
This time she decided that she would have to open her eyes and try to assess the situation. Then maybe try to move.
Her eyelashes were stuck together, and she went as if to rub them, only to realize that her hands were tied. She thought about it for a little longer, and realized that they were behind her back, that she could wriggle her fingers but not her thumbs – her thumbs were bound tightly to each other with something that dug into the flesh. ‘Tie-wraps,’ Dawn thought; she had been taught the same trick, and all too effective it was.
Her feet were bound together as well. ‘Fuck!’ she thought, and went back to trying to force her eyes open by sheer will power.
Eventually she could see a little through swollen eyes. She was lying on a mattress in a room lit by a single light bulb. There were no windows and the lower part of the walls looked discoloured and mouldy. A basement, then, probably one prone to being flooded. She felt cold – she was wearing her jumper and nothing else, a blanket thrown across her lower body only partly covering it. She remembered the feeling of the man roughly checking that The Key was not hidden inside her body, and felt nauseated again.
She considered whether she did, indeed feel weak. ‘Not really’, she decided. ‘My head hurts like crazy, but the light isn’t hurting me, and I can only see one light bulb, so no double vision or signs of concussion.’
She couldn’t immediately see how she could get out of her prison, and lay there with her mind going around in circles. The only thought that she came back to, time and time again, was ‘Spike will rescue me, he’ll be here soon.’
…………………………………..
It took Spike nearly an hour to find the street where Karel had told him the ‘out-of-towners’ were staying. He had looked up a map on-line, using his phone, and he gave a mental nod of thanks for twenty-first century technology. The houses were nondescript, the street full of parked cars, and then – there – he could smell Dawn!
He’d done it! On his own, without the bloody Council, or a Slayer. He would show these bastards if they thought they could take his girl!
The shutters were closed and so no-one inside could see Spike approach the door, now moving silently, like a shadow. He paused. The scent of Dawn was all around him. The scent of Dawn and fear and blood.
Only barely registering that there were four or five heartbeats in the room behind it Spike threw himself at the door, feeling it splinter around him as he did a break-fall, and rolled back up to his feet in the middle of the floor. His guess had been right, there was no invisible barrier, and now these bastards would be his prey.
A swarthy looking man, dark hair gelled in a style that had been out of fashion even when Angel had worn it ten years previously, snatched a gun from the table in front of him. Spike leapt forward but the man pushed the table hard towards him and fired before Spike could reach him.
As the bullet hit him in the chest Spike laughed and kept going forward. He was just shifting into game face when something hit him hard on the back of the head and everything went black.
…………………………………..
The ’BtVS’ characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only and all rights remain with Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the writers of the original episodes, and the TV and production companies responsible for the original television shows. BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER ©2002 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All Rights Reserved. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer trademark is used without express permission from Fox.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 09/03/2007 08:24 pm (UTC)Dawn is being really brave, considering her predicament.
Great chapter!
no subject
Date: 09/03/2007 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 09/03/2007 10:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 09/03/2007 10:23 pm (UTC)The trouble with the demon making you stronger, faster and fairly invulnerable is it gives you a habit of impetuousity.
Nan Dibble said, in a comment to Ten Years After, that I should give them a few problems which are not instantly solved. I would hope that had she still been with us, she would have approved of these last couple of chapters....
no subject
Date: 10/03/2007 03:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 10/03/2007 11:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 10/03/2007 04:13 am (UTC)Poor Dawn. I was squirming for her.
This is brilliant. Thanks ever so for keeping up on it. I always look forward to the next installment.
no subject
Date: 10/03/2007 11:18 am (UTC)Thank you so much.
Spike - vampire of action. He did try the thinking option, and it actually did work - it got him to the right place, although with a bit of fuzzy logic, but old habits die hard....
no subject
Date: 10/03/2007 04:43 am (UTC)Very nice writing though; very taunt. You built towards the final scene beautifully!
Err, the next chapter is coming soon, right?? Right??
no subject
Date: 10/03/2007 11:25 am (UTC)Thank you so much - I am so glad that it works.
The next chapter is not only all plotted on the drawing board, but the actual writing is underway - give me a week, possibly ten days allowing for untoward circumstances and S2C writing a piece for it.
no subject
Date: 10/03/2007 02:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 10/03/2007 05:39 pm (UTC)Vampire speed, vampire strength - back-up? Why would a vampire need back up?
Well to guard his back, mostly! :~)
no subject
Date: 10/03/2007 04:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 10/03/2007 05:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 10/03/2007 06:34 pm (UTC)Excellent chapter. I can't imagine that it was easy to write.
no subject
Date: 10/03/2007 07:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 10/03/2007 11:25 pm (UTC)I have a feeling that Spike is in for a bad time as well, now that he's been captured too.
no subject
Date: 10/03/2007 11:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 13/03/2007 11:00 pm (UTC)But . . . did I miss something? I know Willow is working on a spell to allow Spike to go out in the sunlight, but does he no longer need an invitation to enter? I know you're giving him powers like those of Amara, but he's still a vampire, right? How did he just barge into the room? You've probably told us and I've forgotten.
no subject
Date: 14/03/2007 12:13 am (UTC)The planned magic item, which he does not yet have of course, is only going to give him immunity to sunlight; none of the other benefits of the Gem of Amara anyway.
And yes - Giles is not going to be happy if he ever finds out that Ethan is involved.
no subject
Date: 14/03/2007 09:04 am (UTC)Of course Spike should have expected it to apply, and to hit an invisible wall at the door and bounce off - I forgot about that aspect! We'll have to rewrite that section so that Spike's contact Karel mentions something to that effect and thus inadvertently tips Spike off that he would be able to get it.
no subject
Date: 14/03/2007 09:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 14/03/2007 12:08 pm (UTC)Thanks again for pointing it out!
no subject
Date: 14/03/2007 06:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/04/2007 09:42 pm (UTC)Kathleen
no subject
Date: 28/04/2007 11:17 pm (UTC)