A good day can turn sour in a matter of a few minutes: so when Chris' phone went crazy with urgent messages, you knew it wasn't to be a good sign. He shot off the sofa, taking a few odd cushions down with him and hurried into the bedroom to put his costume in a bag. You were taken aback by his sudden rush and the way he flung himself of the sofa in a half panic had you questioning what had been said.
"Chris? What the hell are you doing?" You sulked off after him, leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom and raising an eyebrow. Chris had carried on shoving item after item into the bag and he'd begun on your wardrobe. You shrugged your shoulders, observing him flinging clothes around and raving about the room like he was on fire, or something of the like. Before he answered, your shirts were being flung down onto the bed and you noticed he made a gesture for you to help him out.
"My Dad was in the area, no gun on him and he noticed some angry looking dudes coming this way. Armed with God knows what, too." Your jaw dropped and you rushed in to sort out the small pile that had begun gathering atop the bag. You stuffed each thing in, pressing it all down to make more space. Though you then remembered that huge chauffeur that drove Chris' dad around all of the time, you recalled that he often carried a gun just in case. You even spoke with him about it at one time, surely he'd have his on him to come to the flat and shoot down whoever it was after the two of you.
"What about that huge chauffeur of his? He always has a gun on him at least!" Not today apparently. Chris shook his head anxiously. Your heart began racing and you were helplessly throwing yet more clothes onto the bag that Chris had set out. He was cussing and yelling to no extent, his panic slowly growing. About to throw your last pair of jeans onto the pile, you were stopped by him gripping onto your wrist with a unusual force. It was a desperate gesture and you noticed his hand was shaking slightly with the fear of whoever was coming.
"That's enough, {y/n}. We have to bust out of the window and I'm not lugging a bag that weighs a tonne out of it." You curtly turned your nose up at the idea of carrying it all yourself, instead of him and pulled some odd bits out of the bag. You ended up throwing most of your best jeans down on the floor, leaving them for dead almost. You zipped up the bag, tugging at it with a slight frustration when it started sticking at the half way.
"Do we even know why they're coming? Or if they're even coming for us?" You asked, looking up from the bag, throwing it over to Chris who was stood by the window. He shook his head and shrugged, obviously not willing to take any risks in the matter.
Chris flung the bag onto his back and then threw one of your old school trophies out of the window, smashing it with a louder crash than you'd expected. You let out a little grumble, slightly annoyed that your trophy had to take one for the team. It was a favourite, but then again, you supposed you'd rather have a trophy gone than to be killed by some angry thug. Though as it crashed and flew down onto the street below, you assumed this caused a stir with the expected thugs, as you heard them shouting and calling for you. They'd entered the block where your small flat was kept and they were on their way up through the echoing flight of stairs. You were only on the second floor, so you didn't think it'd take them long to reach you.
"Well they definitely are coming for us." You grumbled, with no hope of lightening the mood at all. Chris simply glared back at you as you hurried over behind him.
"Shit..." Chris uttered as one of the guys looked up at the window, he ducked back into the room and almost knocked you backwards as he did. Chris had hoped that none of them saw him hovering at the window. But then, without a second thought, he propped himself up onto the frame and took a look down at the distance, dismissing it quickly as he dropped down to the concrete below.
"Woah, fuck me, that kinda hurt..." Chris was stumbling to his feet on the walkway below you. You took one last look behind you, hearing them draw closer as they reached the door. You closed your eyes as you sat up on the side of the window. Though just as you were about to slide yourself forward to jump down, they burst through the door, shouting and cussing to you. You felt the fear of them growing inside you.
"There's his bitch, fucking get her before she jumps!" So they had a leader, and he was stood grinning in the doorway, folding his arms with an attitude so corrupt. As you felt a guy grip onto your shirt, but before he could pull you back, you shifted forward, tearing the fabric and free falling down almost too quickly. Hitting the ground took the wind out of you. You'd shifted yourself to lie on your back and you were wheezing loud, so much so that Chris picked you up and tried his hardest to pull you over his shoulder. You were alright to walk, though, just a little stunned from jumping out of a window. Though as some of the men caught on to the both of you trying to escape, they ran back down to the entrance of the flats, chasing after you as Chris ran as fast as he could, you on his shoulder.
"I swear, Chris, they'll catch up to us if you don't fucking put me down!" You yelled, beating your hands against his back. He didn't seem to care about you hitting him but he understood where you were coming from, so he let you down and the both of you ran until you hit the garage a couple streets down from the flat. You'd lost the men for now and you'd hoped Chris would hurry up and open the garage before they ended up catching up to the two of you. Chris had a nice little thing for taking his time and at the best of times, it really irritated you.
"Open the fucking garage, or I'm gonna carry on running." You couldn't really sound threatening, but you tried your hand at it. Chris always found it good entertainment when you pulled the indimitating card and he always dismissed your half hearted attempts at threatening him, knowing you never properly meant it.
"Why? I got a ride..." He grinned, opening the garage to reveal the Mist Mobile, which sat there in the dark patiently. You shook your head at him and you both took your seats in the front. Chris started up the car and the two of you sped off, impatient to find somewhere out of the way, incase they had others keeping a watch.