Title: Playhouse

Author: Jamiexh

Rating: R

Summary: Based on the premise of Dollhouse. Aubrey, an FBI agent, gets information about a missing girl that may be tied to an agency that imprints people with other personalities to fulfill fantasies. Can she save the girl and take down the agency? Triple Treble.

Disclaimer: Pitch Perfect belongs to Kay Cannon and Elizabeth Banks. Dollhouse belongs to Joss Whedon.

Prologue

…

"Hello, Los Angeles. And welcome to another amazing Monday morning," the alarm clock blared as it struck 5:30 am. Aubrey groaned as quickly turned it off and prepared to face another day.

Mornings have become routine for her. Shower, dry and do her hair, get dressed in a power suit, put on her makeup, strap on her FBI badge and gun and have a quick breakfast of cereal and a coffee. It's become so mundane that she's basically on autopilot. So much so, that she almost missed the manila envelope that lay on the floor of her living room.

The FBI agent quickly walked over to it and examined it. The envelope was unsealed; making her believe it was unlikely that anthrax or any other biological agent was in the envelope. Carefully, Aubrey pulled out the contents. Inside the envelope was a picture of a redhead. Specifically, it was an actor's headshot. Glancing at the picture, Aubrey couldn't help but noticed that this girl was gorgeous and seemed really familiar. Flipping the picture over, she read the name on the top of the resume, Chloe Beale. But, that's not what stood out to the agent. No, written in red ink were two sentences. At the top, immediately under her name were the words, "Find her." Aubrey frowned. The first message made her uneasy, but the second only confused her. The second sentence was one word, "Playhouse." The blonde wondered what this could possibly mean, but before she could ponder it further, a second alarm pulled her out from her thoughts. It was her 'hurry up or you'll be late for work' alarm that she set on her phone.

Quickly turning it off, Aubrey headed out the door and in her distracted state, walked right into a short, brunette girl.

"I'm sorry," Aubrey apologized. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

The brunette girl just smiled at her. "It's okay. I wouldn't mind being bumped into if that person was as beautiful as you. I'm Beca. Beca Mitchell. I just moved in."

"I'm Aubrey Posen. And I'm sorry. I would love to stay and chat, but I'm running late for work."

"It's alright. I know where you live and all. I will see you around, Aubrey. Maybe we can get a drink sometime."

The blonde blushed. "I think that I would like that," Aubrey answered.

"Awesome. Hope to see you soon."

"I look forward to it, but I really have to go." With that the blonde quickly headed down the hallway and towards her car.

Beca just smiled as she watched the blonde walk away.

…

Aubrey got to the office right on time largely thanks to some very offensive, and somewhat illegal, driving techniques. When she got there, most of her coworkers were already at their desks and starting to work.

"Running late today, Posen," Bumper Allen, one of her more irritating coworkers, greeted her.

"Had a busy morning if you must know," Aubrey replied.

"Everything alright," Stacie Conrad asked.

"Yeah, it was just interesting. Has anyone ever heard of something called the Playhouse?"

"Sounds like a strip club," Benjamin Applebaum answered.

"It's a LA urban legend," Stacie started. "They say that it's an agency that programs people with different personalities to help fulfill their clients' fantasies. They can make anyone into whatever and whoever they wish."

"So, basically it's a high tech version of prostitution," Aubrey clarified.

"It's a myth," Bumper stated firmly. "An interesting one, but a myth. I mean, come on, if it were true don't you think that we'd be after them. But, I wish it were true. God, the shit I would do."

"You're a pig."

"I'm a man. I have urges. Everyone does for the most part. Even you, blondie. I'm sure under that straight laced exterior is a beast in the sack. Everyone's got a fantasy. Whether it's naughty nurses or slutty librarians, or in your case, Benji, hot guys, it's all part of human nature. Everybody's got something that keeps them up at night all hot and bothered. It gets you hard or wet, and makes you come just so hard."

"That's very inappropriate," Benji scolded.

"I agree," Aubrey scoffed. "And that's harassment."

"Oh chill out," Bumper said. "It's just a joke. Besides you asked about Playhouse first. And why did that even come up?"

"It's just something I overheard," Aubrey lied. "On my way to work, there was this missing person's person on a light pole and some random person made a comment about the Playhouse having them."

"Was she pretty?"

"He was handsome."

"Then never mind."

Aubrey just shook her head and got back to work.

…

When Aubrey got home she was exhausted. She couldn't wait to just make herself something quick for dinner and plop down on the couch and unwind. But, when she opened her door, there was another manila envelope on the ground. Like the last envelope, this one was also unsealed. Taking a deep breath, the blonde pulled out the contents. Again, like last time, the envelope contained a photo and a message. It was a picture of the same redhead, Chloe Beale, dressed in a black floor length gown and fully accessorized with expensive jewelry. Chloe was on the arm of a shorter male that unfortunately Aubrey recognized. The man that the redhead was with was none other than Bumper Allen. Aubrey gasped as she read the message that was written in red ink on the bottom of the picture. "The Playhouse is real. Trust no one."