"Hey! Hey, you!" broke the silence of Manhattan, New York with a bang. The city's background of white noise interrupted by a local socialite's call to a newcomer on the streets.

Chuck Bass sighed and outstretched an arm to retain the outspoken brunette, who had just been happily hugging his arm. Last time she snapped at a person, it had ruined a business deal for Chuck, and had taken the full team of Serena, Nate, Dorota, and himself to calm her down.

"Blair." he hissed, only to be pushed off and away.

"Um, hi." a long-haired blonde greeted with a small wave and confused expression. If only she knew what she was in for. Most people that didn't know Blair Waldorf Bass were commonly intimated by her intense and forward ways.

Blair whipped her dark and freshly highlighted hair over her shoulder, surely smacking Chuck in the face with, "Yeah, hello," She waved a few gestures towards the blonde's attire, "You look like you know a thing or two about fashion, would you please tell him that I need to go home and change because the black Louis Vuitton booties would look better than the brown ones do?"

The blonde openly smiled, ready to impress the first person to recognize what her niche was in the city. Confidently, she raised her eyebrows and gazed at her husband-to-be. She opened her mouth to speak, but the man with the brunette stopped her.

"Excuse her, she can be so headstrong and-" Chuck began, only to be cut off once again by his lovely wife.

Blair gave a small jump, whirling to face Chuck, "I am proving a point!" she declared. Facing the fashion forward blonde once more, Blair cleared her throat, "So?"

Newly discovered designer, Hanna Marin, let out a laugh, "Well, you could go home and change, or, you could do this," Hanna leaned down and folded Blair's boot socks over so a black interfacing with speckles was revealed. Standing up, she flipped Blair's scarf and adjusted it so the print showed more black than brown.

This girl knew her stuff. Nodding approvingly to the blonde's work, Blair cocked her head towards Chuck. Even all queens must admit they were wrong.

Not to be interrupted, Chuck had locked into a conversation with Caleb Rivers- Hanna's fiance on how their significant others were too fashion driven and obsessed for their own good.

"You were right!" Blair called to Chuck, smirking as she hated the words spilling from her mouth.

Raising his eyebrows and chuckling, Chuck gestured to Blair, while looking at Caleb and Hanna, "Iconic. Did somebody get that recorded?"

Knowing how rare it was to be called right when he was arguing with Hanna, Caleb smiled at Chuck's remark. Blair, on the other hand proceeded to roll her eyes. Her husband would surely pay for that remark later. With a smile tugging at her lips, Hanna stepped besides Blair and across from Chuck.

Deciding that she liked these people, Hanna pointed to Chuck, "So, what's your name? In case, in the nature of fashion, you have to be right again."

Outstretching his hand for Hanna to shake it, Chuck stated his main line and motto, as infamous as it may be, "I'm Chuck Bass."

At the same time, Caleb had jumped in to assist with the introduction, "He's Chuck Bass." he remarked in unison, following Chuck's manner.

Full on grinning, something he rarely did, Chuck finished the handshake and thumped Caleb on the back, "I like this guy. Can we keep them Blair?" he remarked, with approval in his tone.

Nodding, Blair offered her hand to both of the newcomers. Chuck's approval was usually the toughest part of anything, at least he always wanted it to be, "I'm Blair Bass." she greeted with a shiny white grin.

The newly found friends came to the notion to walk the next block together. Chuck and Blair walked on the outside of Hanna and Caleb, as if to shield them from the harshness of the passing pedestrians surrounding them. Considering Hanna and Caleb to be the freshman of New York, and Chuck and Blair to being the big bad seniors you know you don't want to mess with it.

"Are you new to the city then?" Blair posed the question, looking first at Hanna, then to Caleb.

Adjusting his tie, Chuck shook his head at the question itself, "Blair, do they look like locals?"

Blair rolled her eyes, a sigh escaped from her, "No, but you can never be to sure of things and I'm open to surprises. Like how I ended up marrying Chuck Bass. How Serena leaves for L.A like she did for boarding school- without telling me. Like how Nate might become a politician. Like how Dan freakin' Humphrey-"

Chuck slowly raised his hands in surrender, "After being reminded of all that, I'll need a drink." He turned to Caleb, "Now, who are you and where are you from?"

Looking shocked to be given the privilege to talk, Caleb just stared at the sidewalk for a while, "Well, I'm Caleb Rivers and this is Hanna Marin. We're from Rosewood, Pennsylvania."

"I'm an up and coming fashion designer and Caleb works for some secret company that I can't even know the name of." Hanna elaborated, throwing in a few charming laughs.

Blair brightened, "My mom's a fashion designer- Eleanor Waldorf? I help run her company, but would be much more interested in the designing things in it more than anything. I love fashion though, as you can tell!"

Hanna laughed to fill the pause in the conversation. Was the girl seeing her as competition or a friend? Someone she'd be willing to take down on the way to the top? Unsure of what to say next, Hanna smiled at Blair.

Luckily, Blair was feeling talkative today, "I used to have a blonde best friend. Serena van der Woodsen decided that she'd rather go work on some movie set- again, then stick around the Upper East Side and be with me."

"A movie set? That sounds cool. It was probably a deal she had to act fast on, don't take it to heart." Hanna remarked, standing up for someone she didn't even know. And probably never would.

Blair crossed her arms, looked to the sky, and considered this, "She didn't even say goodbye. She just- left. And around here, people don't work on movies, they star in them."

Chuck took it to his power to step in. Blair would always shut down when she thought of Serena and her leaving. Everyone wanted to know what was running through the blonde's head at the time. Blair more than anybody, but when Blair shut down, Manhattan shut down. And Chuck hated to see either happen.

"I'm assuming neither of you have any dinner plans, so, would you care to join us tonight?" Chuck offered, manipulating the conversation, a skill that would always be his own.

Having ducked her head at the talk of Serena, Blair perked up. New people, new friends, new opportunities. The sounds of any of that were music to her ears. Seeing Blair rise, Chuck hid a smile. What made her happy, made him happy.

Hanna shrugged, "Sure! Why not? Where should we meet you?"

Newcomers that didn't the exact power The Basses had on the city. Blair and Chuck thrived at the idea and thought of it. Hanna and Caleb seemed pleasant and polite, but everyone was game to be toyed with when it came to Chuck and Blair Bass. What could it hurt?

Exchanging a glance and thoughts almost telepathically with Blair, Chuck went on speaking, "We'll send a car for you. Where are you staying?"

Caleb laughed, "We're in the middle of looking for a place now, but for now we're up at The Empire."

Holding in a cackle, Chuck rubbed his hands together. It was fall, it was cold out, "I highly recommend The Empire. Always." Out of all his property in New York, the Empire was definitely Chuck's most successful. Plus, when his father had been alive, he had been able to rub it in his face.

Caleb and Hanna nodded in reply, thinking nothing of the sort. New York people probably had preferences on everything.

"What time?" Hanna finally asked, getting out her iPhone to implant it into her about-to-be busy schedule.

Blair answered this time. She couldn't let Chuck have all the fun, "Oh, if you're at The Empire, we can find you."

"People are so wrong about New York. The locals aren't rude at all. That Blair girl seemed interesting but broken over that Serena chick. And, I liked Chuck, too. Plus, he's not all that bad to look at. What'd you think of them?" Hanna questioned Caleb, who had grown very quiet as they continued walking blocks on the way to a coffee shop Hanna had read about online.

Caleb simply shrugged. He hadn't formed an opinion on either of The Basses yet. Blair seemed nice enough but she also seemed like the type that wouldn't be afraid to screw you over. The only thing he knew about Chuck was that A.) His name was "Chuck Bass" and he liked to flaunt it and B.) he approved of The Empire Hotel. Talking to someone for ten minutes didn't give you much to go off of.

Nodding to Caleb's unsaid explanation, Hanna felt her mind wandering into all the sparkly and shiny things in boutique windows. Dresses, mini-skirts, and jackets all shimmering in glitter and gold. Design inspiration and her credit card were calling her name. Smiling sweetly, Hanna faced Caleb and pouted her bottom lip. Knowing Blair would further teach her how to get her husband to cave to anything.

Pretending not to notice her fascination in the clothes, Caleb scratched his head, "You know, I think I see the coffee shop a few stores down." he craned his neck, nodded, and gestured for Hanna to follow him to it.

Rolling her eyes, Hanna craned her neck, peering behind the mannequins, mocking Caleb, she began her sentence the same way as well, "You know, I think I see Men's clothing in there. We have to get you looking as nice as Chuck for tonight!" Grabbing Caleb's hand, she dragged him through the double doors into the brightly lit shop.

In the lounge area of the award-winning and much Instagrammed about coffee shop, a man full of fire scrawled words into a notebook. The paper was being pressed so hard it was on the verge of tearing in two. Just like the man's heart.

Leaning back in his chair, the guy sighed. His hand was cramped. His notebook was almost full. And his coffee was very cold.

A guy of the same writing kind and almost identical physical characteristics- dark hair and pale skin like he hadn't seen the sun in days- approached his doppelganger, "I don't mean to interrupt, I know how it is when you get on a role, but, do you want a refill on that?" The man pointed to the coffee at the table in front of them.

Looking around from the notebook to the cold coffee, the writer scrambled for words. He was infamous for his rambling, but it seemed the notebook had stolen all of them, "Yeah, that'd be great."

Taking his cup to the counter, the man ordered one and payed for it as well. Retreating to the writer, he handed him a fresh cup.

Gratefully taking a sip of the hot black wonderfulness, the writer dug in his pocket for change.

"No, no, it's on me. I want a trade. A coffee for a discussion on writing." At the obscene gaze from the writer, the coffee-buyer felt the time had come to introduce himself, "Ezra Fitz, former English teacher and struggling writer."

It was a fair enough deal, you had to admit, "Dan Humphrey, struggling writer and hated by all of my former friends."

Ezra Fitz nodded. He had come from Pennsylvania to succeed as a writer, looks like changing locations does nothing in a city full of other wannabes and failures. Wherever you go, you take yourself with. In New York, everyone was in the midst of learning that life lesson.

Running a hand through his mane of dark curls, Dan went on. His rambling had returned all too soon, "Funny thing is, I'm hated by all my former friends for publishing two stories on them. I'm struggling to finish the third."

Shocked at the similarity to himself, Ezra's eyebrows shot in the air, "I tried that, writing about what I know of people. I called it a true crime novel. At the time, I couldn't make myself publish it, but now, I think I can."

"You become a shut out when you do. The first book, I changed names and altered stories. The second book, I didn't change anything. I kept everything as vile and horrible as it really was. I ruined parts of their lives. And my own." Dan reflected on what he did to the only people that ever truly cared about him.

Ezra nodded, realizing all the effects he could on Spencer, Aria, Emily, Hanna, and, Alison, if he did publish. If he did do it, could he handle the aftermath? "Did it completely ruin their lives?"

Leaning back once again, Dan pondered all of this, "For the moment, definitely. It delayed everything that would be handed to them anyway. Not in the long run. They're all living high-paid, high-class lives.

Getting to his feet, Dan marched over to the stacks of newspapers by the dimly lit windows. Gathering a copy of each, he returned to Ezra and his all-too comfortable arm chair. Dan scowled down at the familiar faces on the pages of The New Yorker, The Times, The Post, and his personal least favorite- The Spectator.

Plopping the papers onto the table as he grumbled what his friends had become and done, Dan showed Ezra the group of socialites that ended up truly getting the best of Dan. "Chuck and Blair Bass are still the King and Queen of the Upper East Side."

A front page article on the almost royal couple and their family was dropped to Ezra. "Chuck is the CEO of Bass Industries, a manipulative asshole, a basic murderer, and he still got the girl." Staring at Blair's photo for longer than he should of, Dan pointed to the beautiful brunette, "She deserves so much more than Chuck Bass. Blair is brilliant and witty, perfect, and she settled for the monster that is Chuck Bass."

Ezra stared at articles and pages on a very in-love couple who was taking New York by storm, giving to charities, helping out the lower class, building their family legacy, and maintaining a successful company and life. Just by the way Dan talked, he had at one point or another been in love with Blair and Chuck had gotten in the way.

The next paper was dropped in front of the former English teacher. Instantly, it caught his eye. The lettering, the detail, the design…

"Meet Nate Archibald, or Nathanial, as he now goes by." Dan narrated, gesturing to the guy waving from a podium on a stage, "He's rumored to be running for mayor, if he wins, he'll be the youngest one in history. He also is the Editor-in-Chief of the New York Spectator, the paper you're holding. Really, he's a manwhore and a crybaby."

Shocked, Ezra slowly nodded. Dan knew a lot of dirt on these people. Up until now, Ezra had been planning on voting for Archibald. Consider his opinion swayed.

Dan dropped the final articles and papers on the table. The stack was definitely the thinnest and the lightest. It was as if New York's memory of the allusive blonde was slowly disappearing with her. Pitiful, really.

"Serena van der Woodsen. The former fantasy of all my high school years. She's ruined quite a few opportunities for me and just did what she's infamous for. Leaving. She ran off to Los Angeles without a word to anyone. Some say she went crazy, she got pregnant, she's starring in a movie, she joined a cult. No one knows. She'd make you feel special, only to move on to the bigger and better moments later."

The blonde looked like she could be capable of all the things people thought- both good and bad. And she looked like she didn't care about any of it whatsoever.

Finishing up reading about the people who's bad doings were seemingly unnoticed, Ezra set the papers down on the table between him and Dan. What these people had done, to Dan and in front of him, definitely wasn't forgotten by any means. Nor should it be.

"You know, Dan, you know a lot about these people. Almost all of it isn't in any of these papers. You could still take them down. People never change. I'm sure they're the same people you've always known them to be. But, cults and going crazy when you're trying to start over? Being a womanizer and running for an office? Leaving you for the clearly not better choice, a murderer, and a CEO? You could still ruin them- all of them. If that's what you want." Ezra told Dan, throwing in his two cents.

Staring at the faces of people he once called close, Dan definitely agreed. They all deserved some type of repercussion for their pasts. Licking his lips at the very thought of all of them falling down and staying down, Dan bobbed his head yes, Someone needed to show the world who Chuck Bass, Blair Bass, Nate Archibald, and Serena van der Woodsen were. He tried before, but his conscience and good heart failed him. This time, it wouldn't.

"You're right, Ezra. You care to help me?"

Extending his hand, Dan clasped Ezra's firmly, smiling sickly at his new found friend.

The meeting between The Writer and The English Teacher was one that the Upper East Side, locals, newcomers, and all, would never cease to forget.