Black, Shiny Limos
Dan Humphrey hates limos—he's sure of it now.
For many years, he considered them to be the work of the devil; nothing but lavish, obnoxious, moveable symbols that would parade around town, proudly celebrating the classist and imposing superiority of the elitist passengers—rich people who would ride in these attention-seeking tanks as though they were being featured on a long cat walk or a never-ending pedestal. He used to watch his old class mates leave school in their own black, shiny limos and would wonder if his peers, aware of how ridiculous they looked, were thankful for the tinted windows or if they, in fact, wished that the public were able to see them—to see exactly who they were and exactly where they belonged. He used to joke with his childhood friend, Vanessa, about wanting to egg the limos as they passed (you know, as a political and social statement and all). She would laugh at this remark, but deep down, he knew that she was just as intoxicated by the idea as he was. Give these rich people a taste of humble pie—with lots of eggs and hopefully, some rage to boot. Of course, he never did it—vandalism wasn't his thing and knew that his father would kill him if he had gotten himself into that kind of trouble—but that didn't stop him from slyly entertaining the thought...
That Dan Humphrey—the young, idealistic adolescent who despised the trust fund bounded, label-whoring, attention-seeking, conniving specimens of the Upper East Side—hated limos. But as circumstances changed, so did his view on the subject.
After spending five years practically living in the world of the rich and over-privileged, Dan Humphrey became more tolerant of the shiny, over-sized transports. He eventually stopped privately bashing his limo-riding peers and would even, on occasion, become one, himself. He came a long way in such a short amount of time; his prejudice had gradually faded into a dull shadow of skepticism and the socialites and moguls -in –the- making whom he formerly resented eventually became his family. He even fell in love with not one but two beautiful Upper East Siders—the latest of them being a girl that the old Dan Humphrey had despised with a passion.
She used to be everything that he hated about the Upper East Side; she was a bratty bitch who would lie and scheme to get what she wanted. She called herself "Queen B" in high school. She used to make girls cry for wearing tights as pants and had a withering, condescending glare that Medusa, herself, would have envied.
She was a limo-riding connoisseur.
Blair Waldorf. Even just thinking about her name makes him nauseous.
It took one night to turn his whole world upside down— one night to obliterate all the good memories that he had experienced in the last five years.
Everything was going so well. He thought that he was finally becoming someone—someone that he could respect and like. He had seen a positive change in him; he was becoming less and less of a judgemental jerk every day and was happy to distance himself from such a douche bag persona that, he believed, had defined him for the longest time. His writing career was flourishing and he was in love with a girl who challenged him and made him grow. Not only did he love being with Blair but he also loved how he felt about himself every time she was around. He was happy and wanted to believe that she was happy, too.
It took one night to realize that he was blind.
It was one hell of a spectacle; Blair ran out on him without even a word of notice, while his ex-love of his life had used him as a pawn in her destructive little game. Serena made a dirty cheater out of him; she knew that he was vulnerable and took advantage of his troubled, inebriated state by aggressively convincing him that things were over between him and Blair. She turned out to be right, but that, he knew, was not the point. He would never have done what he did if she hadn't toyed with him, first.
Blair broke his heart by leading him on, while Serena delivered the knock-out punch. He realizes that he was nothing but a mindless puppet to them; he doesn't know who of the two women he resents more.
And it wasn't just Dan that got royally screwed; his dad, Rufus, has recently lost his wealthy, UES wife to a former dead man. That's right—Bart Bass had resurrected like a modern day Jesus, only to return again with the intention of ruining everything and everyone. Everyone, that is, except for Lily, who apparently, couldn't resist the "I have risen" complex that defined the "new and improved" Bart Bass. It was Lily's decision to annul her and Dan's father's marriage, and Rufus had no choice but to co-operate. She was his love of his life and she threw their union away like a used Kleenex. Very classy, indeed...
Dan knows now that he was wrong to have ever let his guard down. He was wrong to let himself believe, for one second, that the lavish world of the Upper East Side wasn't completely toxic. Most of all, he was wrong to have ever allowed himself to care about the rich, self-centered and conniving people of the UES who, evidently, didn't give a crap about anyone but themselves.
They are all dead to him—Lilly, Bart, Chuck, Serena, Blair...everyone. He wants nothing more than to set the Upper East Side ablaze and, from the comfort of his Brooklyn loft, watch it burn in a heap of flames. Bitterness consumes him; all he can think about is getting his revenge.
Inspiration strikes.
He knows exactly what he needs to do...
He sits in the back seat of a silver town car in Brooklyn, mechanically staring out the window as he awaits her arrival. He knows that once she enters the vehicle, there will be no turning back and he wonders if this is how newly-recruited soldiers feel before they are sent into battle. The whole thing is a suicide mission—once he goes through with it, it'll all be over for him. He will forever be an outsider...but then again, when has he never been one? Even when he thought that he was in, he still was on the outs. He knows that now and decides that he should take comfort in the fact that he has nothing to lose.
Still, he just wants to get this over with...
Suddenly, he hears the car door open and abruptly turns around to see his guest of honour take her seat. Georgina Sparks, the wicked witch of the Upper East Side, has finally graced him with her presence; and for a second, he's torn between wanting to thank her for meeting with him and shouting at her to evacuate the vehicle. Seeing Georgina with that perpetually devilish grin plastered upon her devious face reminds him of the countless times that she had given him that look after having just ruined his life—and he is reminded, all over again, of how much he cannot stand her. Georgina is a she-devil. She is the joker, minus the green, unkempt hair. She's a lying, manipulative, conniving, destructive woman...who, unfortunately, happens to be invaluable to his mission.
She may be pure evil and teaming up with her might get him a one-way ticket straight to hell but he tries to banish that thought from his mind, telling himself that he'll cross that bridge when it comes. For now, all he knows is that he needs her help.
He just wishes that she would quit looking at him, is all...
"Dan Humphrey," Georgina starts in a devious, seductive tone that makes him inwardly cringe, "come to whisk me away for a rendezvous under the Tuscan sun. You're lucky you're on my free-pass list otherwise Philip may have put up a fuss."
Here we go...
"This invitation isn't about seduction Georgina, it's about scandal."
"Can't a girl have both?"
He can feel his eyes threaten to roll into the back of his head and realizes that he better cut to the chase.
"I need your photographic memory and your passion for social upheaval to help me write the book about the Upper East Side—the book that I should have written from the beginning."
Georgina flashes him a smug, approving smile. "Nothing like a scorned lover to scorch the earth; I can hardly wait."
Dan says nothing. The last thing he needs right now is Georgina Spark's stamp of approval, and he is taken aback by the abrupt impact of her words. He realizes that her excitement has gotten under his skin. He can feel the remains of his defiant, devil-may-care attitude slowly drift from the pores of his body, and he is suddenly disgusted—with Georgina, with the world... but mostly, with himself. For a moment, he lets the magnitude of his actions wash over him, and briefly catches a glimpse of the person that he has become. He is stooping to their level—he knew that going into this, but he never really felt it until now.
It is all so surreal: Georgina Sparks is sitting next to him in a random town car, basically telling him thatshe can't wait to help him, the scorned lover and mastermind of this expedition, tear the UES to shreds. How did it come to this?
Perfect. One minute in the car with her, and already, he is having second thoughts...
Come on, Humphrey—keep it together. Be strong. You can do this. Remember why you are here. They destroyed you—they used you and then tossed you aside as if you meant absolutely nothing to them. Georgina is terrible, yes, but she has never hurt you the way that they have. Plus, you're not doing this just for you—you're doing it for Jenny and for your dad. These people need to be taught a lesson; that's the only way that things will change. They deserve what is coming to them...
They deserve what you have in store for them...
"So, are we going now?" the driver asks, craning his neck to look at Dan.
Dan looks him straight in the eye before responding.
"Yeah. Let's go."
On the way to the airport, Dan spots a shiny, black limo parked on the side of a road and is overcome by a familiar craving. Eggs. He wants eggs... and some rage to boot.