WELCOME TO THE TALES OF LADY D AND SUPER K! It is a land of mystery and enchantment and other things of the like. My name is Super K aka HPincognito247 aka Kirsten!

And I am Lady D aka Unproper Grammar aka Diana! And this is our lovely collaboration!

Now you may be asking yourself, why would we give ourselves such awesome names? Well...a long time ago, Lady D mentioned that she really wanted to do a story on superheroes. I, of course, supported this decision because I am a Class 1 enabler and support anything that distracts us from what we're supposed to be doing.

So then, I, Lady D, kept chit-chatting with Super K about what I wanted to do! And she gave her input, like a good friend does, and eventually I just said, YOU KNOW WHAT? We should write this together.

And I, Super K, said OKAY! And here, a million months later, this story was formed.

And now you may read it! There is a soundtrack for this fic, which can be found at my (Lady D's) LJ, which I have posted a link to in our profile! So the first track for this chapter is up!

Enjoy and please, please tell us what you think. This story will be filled with twists and turns, and we really would like to know your opinions on the matter!

The Tragic Results of a Double Life

Chapter One: Manila Envelopes and Alarm Clocks

She had this.

Narrowing her deep chocolate eyes, she focused on the scene taking place in front of her. To an untrained eye, the two men sitting alone on a dark street inside of their black town car could be up to anything. Perhaps they were meeting to discuss work? Perhaps they were waiting for a friend? Perhaps they were meeting up for a late night tryst on a side alley where no one would tell their wives? It was New York City, after all, and to an untrained eye, anything was possible. She, however, was not an untrained eye.

She so had this.

Staying crouched in the shadows of the third floor terrace she had taken cover in, the twenty one year old beauty kept her head bent low, her eyes remaining fixed on their target. Her window of opportunity was small. Very small. The object the pair currently occupying the dark car would exchange with him, whatever it might be, would only be exposed for a matter of seconds, and she would have to acquire it in even less time. It was important that she completed this mission, and it was even more important that she completed it without any sort of problems. There had been too many mess-ups in the past few weeks, and if she wasn't careful, they'd stop seeing her as a threat. And it was pivotal that they continued to see her as a threat. She had worked too damn long to lose the edge she had over them for that…thing.

Very slowly and carefully, she rose from her position, keeping her eyes firmly trained on the parked vehicle. There was a slight breeze in the air, typical for September in New York, causing goosebumps to collect on the sliver of skin revealed between the black leather pants that clung to her toned legs and the matching jacket that made her essentially invisible to all those who may seek her out.

The car door swung open, and she felt a smile creep onto her features as two figures emerged. She recognized their faces, and she expected if she cared enough, she could recall their names. But she didn't care enough. In fact, the who, where, or when of this mission was irrelevant. All that mattered was the what, and the what consisted of what was inside the manila envelope in the hands of one of the two thugs in her sight.

Taking out the two men wouldn't be difficult. She saw no weapons on either of them, and even though both of them were more brawn then brains, she could take them. Reaching behind her and withdrawing her mask, she began to focus, narrowing her deep brown eyes on the two figures down below. They were waiting, both of them leaning against the side of the car conversing, the brunette of the pair lighting up a cigarette, distracted by whatever topic of conversation they deemed fit for this circumstance. Neither of them noticing her nor the temperature drop. Settling the simple black mask onto her face, she kept her focus, barely blinking as her chocolate eyes began to glow, flecks of blue making their way into her irises until they were almost entirely blue. It was beautiful and frightening. With every gift came its curse, and while this wasn't adamatium claws or the touch of death, it was something that made her different…something that would and could never be accepted.

Her movements were swift. Jumping over the side of the terrace she was free-falling for a manner of seconds before she had a hold of base of the second floor balcony. She paused for only a second, her feet resting on the top of the first floor balcony long enough for her to hop down to the ground, landing in a crouched position. Neither man noticed her, and she seized the opportunity, scurrying behind into a dark alley, just out of sight, but within earshot.

"When's he gonna be here?" the brunette thug asked, taking a draw from his cigarette, "I got shit to do."

"Well your shit can wait." The blonde thug answered roughly, "Boss has wanted this for a while and now that we got it, we ain't waiting."

"Whatever," the brunette said, flicking his bud onto the ground, "I gotta take a piss."

A small smile worked its way onto her features as the brunette began heading towards the dark alley. "Awesome," the blonde said sarcastically, "don't wander off, boss'll be here any minute." The brunette dismissed him with a hand wave and she began advancing further and further into the darkness. It was quick, the thug didn't even have a chance to get his pants fully unzipped before he felt the cool steel of her knife against his throat. He fell to the ground with a thump, drawing the attention of the blonde. "Cameron?"

Sheathing her knife, she watched carefully as the other thug approached, preparing her plan of attack in her brain. She would've had him. Her plan was flawless, and she had this.

And then he showed up.

The 'plop' of his boots was all he needed to announce his presence, but, as usual, that was never enough to announce his presence. Although he was dressed in head to toe black, his attire was a bit contradictory due to the fact that she had never once seen him attempt to conceal his presence. Every superhero, if she could stomach actually thinking of herself as so, had an enemy, and she was no different.

This man standing in front of her, however, was not her enemy.

Just a royal pain in her ass.

For as long as she had been doing this, whatever it was that this was, she had worked alone. She plotted alone, she waited alone, and she executed alone. That was how she did things…alone. She didn't have a sidekick, she didn't even have a friend she consulted, she was a loner…until he showed up.

She narrowed her eyes, taking in the man in front of her. Despite having drawn the attention of the thug, his deep blue eyes, hidden behind a simple black mask, were fixed on her. He had a small grin resting on his lips. He was going to screw this up.

"Hiya dollface."

The words slipped out of his mouth attached to such cockiness that she felt her retort, the same retort she used every time he called her that damn name, escape before she had the chance to stop it, "Screw you, dickface."

The thug's head whipped around at the sound of her voice, and before he could even register that there was someone lurking in the darkness, her foot flew into the side of his jaw, catching him off guard and sending him stumbling to the side. She made a split second decision to flee. It wasn't like her to run, she hated running away from a fight, most especially in the literal sense, but she needed what was in that envelope. She needed to have an upper hand on them.

She felt her arm grabbed and instantly knew the owner of the searing grip on her bicep. She didn't think twice about her actions, her deep brown eyes already being invaded by blue as her balled up fist faded from her naturally tanned skin tone to icy blue. Same side or not, he was beginning to piss her off. She spun around, and before he had the opportunity to duck, her fist made contact with the side of his face. It hurt him, if the grunt that escaped his lips wasn't enough to tell her that, the crunching she felt when her hand impacted his jaw was. But he didn't miss a beat, grabbing her arm and twisting it harshly, a slight whimper escaping before she could stop it. "Let me go." She managed out, glaring at him over her left shoulder.

"Where you off to in such a hurry?" he asked sarcastically, the outer rim of his deep blue eyes turning darker and darker with every passing second. She could feel her arm beginning to burn. "Where's the fire?"

"I'm looking at it."

Dropping her shoulder, she lifted her foot, slamming the heel of her shoe against his right knee, causing him to loosen his grip on her arm. She dropped to the ground, however, she was resting there only momentarily before she was back on her feet. She knew he had a weak right knee, and while he was resilient, this would leave him writhing on the ground for a moment, and a moment was all she needed. She vaguely heard voices behind her, but she didn't stop to look, her black heels hitting the pavement at a rapid rate as she zeroed in on the envelope sitting on the top of the car.

Until the first shot was fired. It missed her, zooming through the air and slamming into the back windshield of the car she was running towards. The next one was so close it sliced through the leather covering her arm. Pushing up from the ground, she felt her butt come into contact with the hood of the car as she reached out to snatch the envelope from the roof. It was a fluid motion, one that had been executed flawlessly as she slide to the opposite side of the car and crouched down behind the car. She worked quickly, tucking the envelope inside of her jacket for safe keeping while listening closely to the shots that continued to occur. Glancing up over the car, she made sure to keep her head down as she took in the scene. Whoever was coming to collect the envelope had arrived.

The gunfire ceased, "Throw us the envelope."

She smiled, fat chance. Pushing up from the concrete, she took off, internally thanking her father for pushing her into track in high school as the gunfire began once again. By the accuracy of their shots, it was easy to tell that the gunman were running, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because they were missing. A curse because it meant that they were getting closer to her. Rounding the corner, she swung her leg over the side of the awaiting black motorcycle, her hands gripping the handles as the engine roared to life. Kicking off of the ground, the bike jetted forward zooming down the dark street, leaving neither a trace of it or her as it disappeared into the night. She didn't glance back, she never glanced back. Glancing back only gave the enemy one more chance to figure out who she was, and the more chances they got, the closer they got to figuring out who she was. They couldn't figure out who she was. They could hate her alter ego. Call her a bitch, a coward, anything they wanted to. The girl with the mask could take it, and, in fact, wanted the attention. But the girl without the mask? She needed to stay protected. Everyone understood why the girl with the mask went gallivanting around at night on the wrong side of town with the wrong kinds of people.

No one would understand why Gabriella Montez did.

He needed a vacation.

"The Peterson case is going nowhere," Josef Montez heard filter through the speakers of his car as he maneuvered the roads towards his home in the upper east side of Manhattan, "he's dragging his feet on the documents we want from him and, to be honest, I'm pretty sure he's lying to us."

Josef rolled his eyes at the newest addition to his practice. Young lawyers were typically great hires due to their want to please, but oftentimes they were idealistic and naïve. "This is corporate law, Jason," Josef started as he turned into his driveway, "of course they're lying."

Pulling up the driveway, Josef felt a sense of relief wash over him at the site of his four bedroom, six bathroom home in Staten Island. He loved New York City. His lawfirm was based out of there, he went to school there, he met his wife there, and his daughter was born there. New York City had been very good to him on both a business and personal level, but ever since they'd moved to Staten Island sixteen years earlier, the city had become more of a burden, and needless to say, despite the forty five minute commute, he was happy to be home.

Shifting the car into park, Josef released a sigh as the voice of his associate lawyer continued to drone through the speakers. It wasn't that he didn't care about this case, he was just worn out and ready to enjoy spending time with his beautiful wife and daughter. "Jason," Josef interjected into his ramblings, "I'm hanging up now."

Not waiting for a response, Josef shut off the car and swung open his door. Grabbing his briefcase from the seat next to him, he took notice of the two other cars occupying the garage. His wife's wasn't surprising, she was usually home from work by this time, but his daughter, if his memory served him right, had plans with her boyfriend and told them not to expect her for dinner.

Good, perhaps she dumped the idiot.

Shutting the door behind him, Josef set his briefcase down in the entry way, loosening his tie as the mixture of sizzling food and the evening news reached his ear.

"Hey honey." Josef heard instantly as he stepped into view of the kitchen, spotting his wife, Maria, standing in front of the stove, sprinkling a spice over the white sauce she was preparing for dinner. "How was your day?"

Sweeping his eyes across the room, Josef's brow furrowed at the sight of his eighteen year old daughter sitting in the middle of the dinner table with her legs crossed and eyes closed. "Fine." Josef answered, still eyeing his daughter, "What is she doing?"

Maria grinned, glancing over her shoulder, "She's meditating."

His eyebrows shot up, "Meditating?"

"Yes, father," his daughter, Gabriella, cut in, "I am meditating."

Maria rolled her eyes, sending him a look, "She got another acceptance letter."

Josef smiled, "Who from?" not waiting for an answer, he advanced towards the pile of mail sitting on the counter, shuffling through the various letters.

"Harvard," Maria answered, leaning against the counter, "not that she'll go there."

Retrieving the letter, Josef shot Maria a look as he withdrew the contents from the envelope, "Oh she'll go there. Harvard is one of the top law schools in the country…"

"So is Columbia."

"It's not the far away from home."

"Columbia's closer."

"And it's my alma mater."

Maria narrowed her eyes, "And Columbia's mine."

"I think I'm gonna go to clown college." Gabriella announced, continuing to keep her eyes closed, "I imagine I'd look good with a red nose."

Exchanging a look with his wife, Josef rolled his eyes, "You hate clowns."

"Perhaps if I was a clown I wouldn't judge them so harshly."

Josef turned to his wife, a smug look on his face, "I told you she'd get into Harvard."

Maria, who had turned back to the sauce, arched an eyebrow, "I always knew she'd get into Harvard, I have no doubt that our daughter is the smartest person I know, including you." Josef smiled, "But I know she won't go."

Josef had removed his jacket, hanging it over one of the chairs, "And why is that?"

Maria smiled, "Because Paul got in as well."

"Mom!" Gabriella barked, causing Josef to look over at his daughter who now staring at her mother incredulously.

"It's true, is it not?" Maria asked, sending her daughter a meaningful look.

Gabriella began to move off of the table, "It's none of dad's business!"

Josef's brow furrowed, "Whoa, whoa, whoa…how come it's mom's business and not dad's business?"

Gabriella crossed her arms and for a moment Josef was struck by how much she truly resembled her mother, "Because mom actually likes Paul and isn't looking for any reason to break us up."

Josef scoffed as Maria snorted, "I'm not trying to break you two up!" he insisted, "That boy's just…"

Gabriella raised her eyebrows, "That boy's just what?"

Josef pursed his lips, nothing he said at this moment could possibly help the situation. Maria seemed to sense his hesitance, "Let's not fight, guys." She began, taking a pot of boiling noodles off of the stove and walking it over to the sink, "Tonight is a night to celebrate. Joe, set the table, Ella you better get going."

Sending her father a dirty glare, Gabriella spun on her heel and disappeared from view. "Go?" Josef asked, "Go where?"

Maria began mixing the noodles and sauce together, "She and Paul are having dinner tonight to celebrate."

"Yeah," Gabriella shot towards her father as she breezed past the pair, jacket and purse hanging off of her arm, "don't wait up!"

Josef opened his mouth to retort only to be met by the slamming of the door. He groaned, "I swear, that girl…"

"You need to lighten up." Maria informed him, "He's a nice kid."

"Nice kid my ass!" Josef disagreed, walking over and retrieving two plates from the cupboard as Maria continued mixing together their dinner. "That boy is not good enough for our daughter."

Maria shook her head, "Only a saint would be good enough for our daughter in your eyes."

"Don't," Josef told her, retrieving the utensils from the drawer, "don't make this sound like I'm just being an overprotective father…"

"Aren't you?"

"…that boy smokes, that boy drinks," he continued, ignoring her, "he probably does drugs, I'm shocked he got into Harvard…"

Maria shook her head, "Such low standards."

Josef sent her a look, "He's not good enough. How can you think otherwise?"

Maria crossed her arms, leaning against the counter to face him, "I never said I thought he was good enough, but he's harmless."

"Harmless!"

"Yes, harmless," Maria repeated, "he's gonna push her boundaries and test how well we instilled good morals into her while they have a few laughs along the way. It's a fling, it won't last."

Josef tilted his head as Maria pulled two wine glasses out of the cupboard, "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know our daughter and I trust her, so should you." Josef sighed and Maria smiled, "You've made a name for yourself, Joe, and in doing so you elevated yourself to a standard where certain things are expected of our family. I am to be the dutiful wife and Ella is to be the perfect daughter. She is well behaved, she gets good grades, and she will continue to impress when she goes to Columbia."

"Harvard." Josef interjected.

"This is her way of rebelling." Maria continued, ignoring him, "All the good girls date the bad boys at least once. It won't last…she already told me she plans on breaking up with him prior to graduation. Don't worry."

Josef rolled his eyes, "I will never not worry about that girl, she is far too much like you for her own good."

Maria raised an eyebrow, handing Josef a glass of wine, "You mean intelligent, sweet, and beautiful?"

"Yes." Josef answered bluntly, taking a sip, "The world better watch out."

Maria smiled, "She'll be a force to be reckoned with."

When Gabriella Montez was nineteen years old, after finishing her first year of college at Columbia University with a 4.0 GPA, she informed her parents that she was moving out. She had done her one year of torture in the dorms, gone through the rigmarole of having a terrible roommate, made some amazing friends, and she was ready to move to New York City and start her life…off campus.

Her mother had been thrilled. Not only was she proud of her daughter for taking charge and growing up, she was also ecstatic at the prospect of finding and then decorating said apartment, her husband had previously forbid her from redecorating their already redecorated home. Her father, on the other hand, had been dead set against it. He didn't see the need to waste money when she had a perfectly good house to stay in rent free. At the time, Josef had rejected the idea by explaining that she was too young and irresponsible to live in New York by herself. Gabriella argued that he was her age when he moved to New York, and he argued back that that was because he had no option. She had the option to live at home, and he refused to pay for rent while she had that option.

A week later Gabriella was signing a lease while her mother clapped excitedly and her father grumbled in defeat.

It wasn't that her father was a pushover; he was a lawyer and a New Yorker, both of which made him a formidable opponent in any way shape or form. But he was helpless when it came to his two girls. Actually, both her parents had been pushovers when it came to Gabriella. It stemmed from both of her parents desperately wanting children and her mother's inability to carry a child to term. She suffered many miscarriages before Gabriella was finally born, and once she was, Josef and Maria made it their duty in life to show Gabriella exactly how loved she was. Whether it was receiving both Barbie's Malibu house and corvette for Christmas when she was eight, enrolling in both tap, ballet, and jazz when she was twelve, receiving a brand new car on her sixteenth birthday, or moving into a luxurious two bedroom loft when she was nineteen.

The loft was bright. Floor to ceiling windows stretched all around the apartment overlooking the buzzing New York streets below. Hardwood covered all 3000 square feet and with the tall ceilings and open concept layout, the apartment had immediately impressed Gabriella upon entry. The kitchen was small and simple, but with an island doubling as a breakfast bar, Gabriella thought it was perfect. She thought everything about the loft was perfect.

Most days.

Gabriella groaned as she dug her head deeper into her fluffy pillow, desperately attempting to drown out the light streaming in through one of her many windows. Once upon a time, Gabriella would've called herself an early riser, but as a twenty two year old college student, she had perfected sleeping in, and right now, that was all she wanted to do. The sun, however, seemed to have different ideas. Turning her head to the side, Gabriella managed to lift her tired eyelids long enough to spot the time on her phone lying on the nightstand next to her queen sized bed. Six fifteen.

Shit.

Why couldn't the world let her sleep until seven? Was forty five extra minutes of sleep so terrible? True, it had been her choice to go out the previous night, knowing full well that she had school the next morning, but it hadn't really been her choice. She had been tracking this particular group of men for a while, knowing who they worked for, and what they were often entrusted with. Last night had been am opportunity that wouldn't come up again. She had to take it.

Rolling over onto her back, Gabriella observed the ceiling above her, admitting defeat, "Fine sun, you win." She mumbled to no one in particular.

Lifting her hands, Gabriella began to wipe away the cloud of sleep, her mind beginning to buzz with the tasks she had to complete for the day. She had two classes that morning, at eight and nine, and then nothing until her shift started that evening at four. That gave her a hefty amount of time to finish any homework she had left to finish for her classes tomorrow and still squeeze in a nap to ensure she didn't look like a zombie for work tonight.

Pushing up from the mattress, Gabriella held out her arms, stretching her sore back while she glanced at her skin. She was bruised, her elbows raw, and to top everything off, her skin had a sickening bluish tint to it. She was glad she didn't have a roommate or boyfriend to wake up to, because to any outside observer, she'd shudder at what they might think. Abusive boyfriend? Father? After all you've been through, poor girl… Gabriella rolled her eyes at the thought, if only they knew. Lowering her arms, she smiled as she noticed that many of her bruises had dramatically reduced since she received them last night, come her eight o'clock class, she'd probably be able to take off her jacket and not receive any weird looks.

Tossing aside the covers, Gabriella rose from her bed, staring down at the fast paced New York traffic. Her father would be among those bustling to get to work. An early riser, her father had always been the first to the lawfirm, whether it was prior to him making partner when he was trying to impress not only his boss, but the boss' daughter, or now when he owned the lawfirm and arrived early to set a good example. Or at least that was the official reason. The real reason was that he couldn't be in the house alone anymore. Not that she blamed him, Gabriella couldn't take being alone in that house anymore either.

Lifting her gaze, Gabriella focused on the face staring back at her. At times, it was absolutely striking how much she looked like her mother. The shape of her face, the curve of her nose, if it wasn't for her eyes, she wouldn't be able to see any bit of her father in her, and at the moment, as her eyes glowed an unnatural blue, she could see none of her father in her. She hated falling asleep like this, fighting Mother Nature while she slept was draining on her mentally and physically, but she had no choice. The bruises had to be healed or else people would start asking questions, and as soon as people started asking questions, it was only a matter of time before they connected the dots.

Resting her hand on the window, Gabriella narrowed her eyes. This was entirely that jackasses fault. She had everything under control and he just had to swoop in and ruin everything. He always ruined everything. She swore, if she ever found out who that guy actually was, she'd…

Taking a deep breath, Gabriella shut her eyes. She couldn't let that man get to her. She had to stay focused, he and any revenge she might seek on him for screwing with her would merely be a distraction, and she couldn't afford for any distractions right now. Opening her eyes, Gabriella found her old face staring back at her, her father's eyes and all.

Spinning around, Gabriella made her way around her bed and into her walk in closet. Pushing aside her clothes, she found herself faced with a digital keypad and fingerprint scanner. Quickly typing in her code and scanning her thumb, Gabriella watching the wood slide up to reveal a secondary closet. It looked like chaos with all the leather pants, jackets, and masks haphazardly thrown into the small space, but Gabriella neither noticed nor cared as she focused on the manila envelope sitting on one of the edges. She hadn't had the courage to open it yet, afraid of what might be inside. The previous night she had merely dismissed her nerves as tiredness, but now it was clear that the butterflies in her stomach were driven by fear. What if there was nothing of use in there? What if the documents or pictures resting inside of that envelope related to something Gabriella had no part in? What if it was a planted diversion? Or, perhaps worse, what if it wasn't? What if everything Gabriella sought after rested inside of that envelope? Answers? Proof? What if…

Gabriella's train of though was interrupted by her alarm sounding from the nightstand behind her. Time to wake up. Sighing, Gabriella reached up and slid the hidden wooden door shut, sealing its contents inside. This evening. After she had had a little more sleep and could properly process the envelope's contents. She would do it this evening.

Replacing her clothing, returning her closet to its pristine condition, Gabriella exited her closet and made her way towards the bathroom. Time to get ready for the day.

A shrill piercing wail of a beeping slowly faded in and out, pulling him from slumber and yanking him back into consciousness. The dreaded beep that made even the most dedicated of university students cringe at the very sound. The one that was written about in horror films and what nightmares were made of. Squeezing his eyes shut, the twenty two year old man found himself trying to ignore it, pretend it was the mere sound of birds chirping in the morning. A soft, wonderful greeting.

It was better than the actual reality of the situation.

Glancing at the clock, he realized it was 5:36, and exactly twenty-four minutes before his own alarm clock was supposed to go off. Groaning, he took a deep breath and rolled over, pounding on the wall next to his. "Jason!" he called through the wall. "Wake up!"

Nothing happened. The beeping persisted, and if he wasn't certain, he could faintly hear his roommate's snoring through the wall. There were many downsides to living in a small, run down and extremely cheap apartment in New York, so many that they were hard to list. There was the size (they usually varied from small to very small), the endless infestation of every single variety of vermin, the constant breaking down of important necessities like, oh, heat. They were all incredibly taxing, though for $166 a month, he tried not to complain too much.

Then there were mornings like this when he was running on two hours of sleep and was hoping to squeeze in a couple of more, when the goddamn paper-thin walls led him to hear every single little sound. Though the noise this morning was anything but quiet; rather it was a loud, piercing, blaring beeping sound coming from the bedroom next to his.

It was his fucking roommate's dumbass alarm clock, and it didn't seem like it was going to stop anytime soon.

Troy Bolton, groaned again. Why couldn't Jason just regain consciousness for a couple of minutes and turn the fucking thing off? As luck would have it, it seemed that his oh so wonderful winner of a roommate was out cold, most likely having digested one too many beers the night before and causing him to be dead to the world.

So three minutes passed by, then five, which quickly skipped on to ten and now fifteen. Dragging his hand over his tired face, Troy sat up, flinging the covers off of his body and staggering to his roommate's bedroom in nothing but a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms.

"Jason, wake the fuck up!" he shouted, pounding on the door. Why the fuck had he decided to room with this guy? It was quickly proving to be the worst decision in the world; Jason was lazy, unemployed, unmotivated, and if Troy was not mistaken; a complete and utter party-boy. Many, many nights, he had been awoken to Jason stumbling inside, drunk out of his mind or completely stoned. It was completely aggravating during exam week, but Troy would not deny that having Jason be only present some of the time (both physically and mentally) definitely had it's perks.

He never seemed to notice that Troy was also coming and going, and upon return looked a little bruised, beaten, and even burnt.

But that was a whole 'nother story.

"Jason, wake the fuck up!" he called again, banging his fist against the door as hard as he could. "If you don't get up and turn that fucking thing off, I am going to break down the door, smash it, and then I am going to eat all of the bread, use up all of the hot water, and cancel the cable subscription."

Finding he was met with nothing but the continued shrill of the beeping alarm clock, Troy moaned and leaned his forehead against the door. Why did this have to turn out to be such a shitty situation? He was exhausted, he had a gash the size of Arizona on his back, and he had an honors communication lecture in three hours. He did not need to put up with this bull so early in the morning.

Feeling far too stressed out for his twenty two years, Troy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He could simply go start his day, but he knew Jason. He knew that that alarm clock would go on for hours until he awoke from his drunken stupor. And quite frankly, the last thing he wanted or needed was to deal with having to listen to it while he went about his day. He didn't want to, nor did he need to, so he wouldn't.

He'd just have to break down the door instead.

"That's it, you fucker," he said, aggravated to the point where he was fairly certain a vein was popping out of his forehead. "I'm coming in."

Turning the knob to the right and then leaning back, he threw his weight into the door, successfully feeling it pop off the hinges and burst open. The beeping was about forty times louder inside the actual room, and Troy was once again boggled as to how Jason was able to drink so much that he was completely and entirely out of it to the point where he didn't hear it at all.

Jason's bedroom was a disaster area. There were dirty clothes strewn about every free surface, and he was fairly certain that there was mold growing on at least four different plates. The blinds were drawn, causing there to be little natural light filling the room. His computer was on, playing old Rancid songs on loop, and there was a distinct scent of beer filtering through the room. Taking a deep breath, Troy began to slowly wade his way over to the other side of the room, locating the cheap alarm clock that was still blaring as if it was on it's last breath.

Yanking the cord out of the wall, he picked up the clock off the cluttered nightstand and threw it in a corner. Why did Jason even have an alarm clock? He obviously never used it as it was meant to be used.

He probably wouldn't even notice that it was misplaced.

Leaning over, he shook Jason's shoulder. "Jason, wake up," he said, shoving his roommate, "it's almost six o'clock and you have lab at seven. And if you want to appear remotely sober, you'll get up now."

"Nrghhh," came the dignified response. "Go away mom."

Troy rolled his eyes. "Get the fuck up, man," he spat, kicking the pair of sweatpants at his feet, "start your day. Your room is a fucking mess and I swear to god, if you don't stop using that alarm clock or start waking up when it goes off, I will fucking cut off your balls."

Jason stirred, finally, and sat up in his bed. He was shirtless and there was a thin line of drool on his chin, his hair sticking up in every which way. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced around the room tiredly before making eye contact with Troy.

"Troy, buddy," he slurred, and Troy sighed when he realized Jason was probably still a little drunk. "What's shaking?"

Picking up a sweatshirt off the ground that appeared to be at least somewhat mildly clean, Troy crumbled it into a ball and whipped it at Jason, causing him to yelp in pain. "Get the fuck up, you asshole. You have lab."

Jason groaned again. "But I don't want to!"

Troy rolled his eyes and began making his way out of the room, tripping on odds and ends considering there was literally stuff everywhere. "You know what, fine, you..." he paused, glancing over at Jason and realizing there was an extra lump next to him. And that lump was moving.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm down. He was way too fucking tired for this shit. "Jason, what, or rather, who is that?"

Opening his mouth in an attempt to explain proved to be futile, as as soon as he tried, a blonde head of hair emerged from underneath the covers, followed by a bare torso.

"Good morning baby," the woman slurred, mascara smudged under her eyes and red lipstick stained over her mouth. She crawled up Jason's body and gave him a sloppy kiss on the neck, exposing her bare breasts to Troy.

"Good morning, babe," Jason said, wrapping his arms around her. "Troy, this is Mandy—"

"Mindy—"

"Mindy, I know, that's what I said baby," he said with a teasing smile. "Troy this is Mindy. We met at the bar last night."

Glancing away as Mindy unlatched herself from Jason and began to slide over towards him, Troy shook his head. "Nice to meet you, Mindy. Maybe you should cover up."

Walking towards the door, he turned around and glared at Jason straight in the eye. "This isn't over and I mean it, Jason, either do something about the alarm clock or I am kicking you out."

"It's my name on the lease!" Jason screamed after him.

"I don't care!" Troy shouted, stepping out the door and gripping the doorknob. "I'll commit fraud if I have to and say I'm you. And clean up your damn mess in the kitchen!"

With that, he slammed the door behind him, and looked down to where his hand was clasped around the doorknob. Retrieving his hand, he realized the knob was scrunched up into a small ball, his finger causing smooth indents surrounding it as a small stream of smoke lifted off of it.

Cringing inwardly, he yanked it off entirely, deciding he'd just tell Jason some story about him pulling it off when he broke into his room in the first place. It was better than telling the truth, and the truth was that he had been so angry that he had been distracted and melted the damn thing with his hands.

Like that would go over well.

"I don't know what you expected," Chad Danforth said four hours later as he and Troy made their way across campus, the chilly fall weather causing their breath to form puffs in front of their mouths. "You knew the guy was a complete douche upon meeting him for the first time, knew the apartment was a dump, and yet you still moved in with him. So why are you surprised that living with him has been anything but a royal pain?"

Shrugging, Troy took a sip of his coffee, letting the hot liquid calm him and perk him up all at once. Running on under four hours of sleep a night was really starting to get to him. He was a lot of things, but he certainly wasn't able to function on little sleep. Maybe tonight he'd stay in. Not go on patrol. Leave things up to her.

Ha, he thought, fat chance.

"I don't know, man," He admitted, taking another sip. God, coffee was like his religion. He worshipped the stuff. "I guess I was just hoping that he would be bearable at least? I spent four years playing high school basketball and those guys were dicks. I thought I had seen it all, but I guess not."

Chad sighed and patted him on the back. "You know, it sucks to be you, I guess. You really should move out."

Troy glared at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, not all of us have super wealthy girlfriends who ask us to move into their penthouse apartment with them. Not all of us have our rent paid by our girlfriend's father."

"Hey now," Chad frowned, "Sharpay's dad may pay our rent, but that doesn't mean that I don't pay for other things. I buy groceries. I pay for the clothes on my back. I pay my tuition."

"You're still living in a place that has three bedrooms, two floors, and a jacuzzi, Chad," Troy eyed his friend, "and you're still not paying a cent towards any of that. Some of us have to live in the crappy apartments with the crappy roommates until we can get enough money to maybe hopefully live in a place with a decent roommate."

Chad chuckled, and the two continued to make their way over to the lecture hall. "You should find yourself a girl, Troy," he said seriously, "someone to take care of you. Someone who can cook for you and be there to listen to you whine about your stupid roommate, cause to be honest, dude, I'm kind of over hearing about it."

Pulling open the door to the building, Troy sighed. "I don't have time for a relationship right now. Between work and school, I barely have time to sleep. You know that."

"Yeah, I know that," Chad said, frowning. "And you look like shit as a result. Did you sleep at all last night?"

"A little."

"A little isn't enough," Chad sighed. "Man, I know we've only been friends for a few years, but I feel like I've known you forever and I'm worried. So there."

"It's not big deal, man," Troy said, waving his friend off. "You know how this shit is. I'm a university student. We are genetically predisposed not to sleep."

It was easier to blame his complete and total lack of a sleep on that of a regular university student's life. It was easy to say that he had spent his evenings cramming and drinking coffee instead of what he did do, which was scale buildings, set things on fire, and beat up a few crooks.

Yeah. It was a lot easier, Troy thought as he and Chad arrived at their class and settled down in their seats. Their professor walked in and pulled up a PowerPoint presentation and immediately launched into the lecture. The boys dug up their laptops and set to work.

"God," Chad shook his head. "This professor is not into exchanging plesantries."

Troy shrugged. "She has a lot to cover in a three hour lecture."

"Whatever you say, Troy," he said, "I for one, think she's a bitter old hag that needs to get laid."

Laughing, Troy glanced over and his eyes landed on a girl standing by a tree outside. Her hair was long and black, falling in gentle curls down her back and face. She was wearing a black pea coat, jeans, and light blue Ugg boots, a small smile playing on her lips as she walked, her phone pressed to her ear. She was pretty, very pretty even, but certainly not the most beautiful girl had ever seen.

Yet there was something about her, something that kept his gaze fixed onto her. It was something in the way she walked, something in the way she held herself. It was familiar and completely new all at the same time.

"Dude!" Troy saw Chad's hand appear in front of his face and blinked, tearing his gaze away from the girl. "Where the hell were you right now?"

"I was just..." Troy trailed off, looking out the window. "Nothing. Day dreaming, I guess."

Chad snorted. "Well, welcome back to planet Earth. You just missed what we're reviewing for our midterm."

Troy groaned. "Are you serious?"

"Yep," Chad responded with a nod, "but don't sweat it. I wrote it down. You can copy my notes at lunch or something."

"Thanks, man," Troy said, unconsciously letting his gaze travel back over to the window.

To his unexpected disappointment, the girl was now gone. Frowning, Troy shook the feelings that were invoking him away. He had better things to do then spend time ogling some girl from classroom windows.

Like figuring out what the hell he was going to do about the gash on his back, for one. Among other things, like essays and Jason, of course.

If there was one thing Troy Bolton could do without, it was part time work. Part time work in the food industry. Specifically, part time work at the restaurant where he was employed. It wasn't that the job was a bad job, per se. It only took up a few hours out of every evening, the management was good to him, and, most nights (when he laid on the charm), it paid pretty well.

Tonight, however, was not one of those nights.

Troy had count at least 20-25 expensive tables pass through the restaurant that evening so far, and out of the 25-ish, Troy had not even had one sat in his section. Normally, he could handle that. He would take one for the team, allow someone else to get a twenty dollar tip. It was fine as long as it was distributed evenly, as long as everyone was getting their fair share a night. He didn't expect to get all of the well paying customers, but he at least expected to get one or two a night. The fact that he had spent the majority of the evening waiting on college students on dates was absurd. Two bucks pooled together on an estimated fifty dollar meal was nothing.

Letting out a groan of frustration, he ran a hand through his hair. It was time he had a word with the hostess.

Sharpay Evans sat perched on a stool beside the restaurant entrance looking very bored and examining her nails. She let out a yawn and glanced around as if waiting for something interesting to happen. Troy felt his blood boil even further.

It was the most unfortunate of circumstances to be working with Sharpay for a couple of reasons. Number one was that she was a terrible worker, if not the most terrible worker employed at the restaurant. She seated people in tables that were already occupied, forgot to write down reservations, refused to write down reservations simply because she didn't like them, and at times went to the kitchen and would sit down for a full meal on the job. The problem was that she should have been fired, but hadn't been, and wouldn't be, simply because her father owned the restaurant.

He wanted her to gain work experience for the real world. Troy thought it was a joke.

The second was that working with Sharpay made Troy hate her. This was problematic because she was dating Chad. She lived with him. If Sharpay were not working with Troy, perhaps he could find it in himself able to stomach her. Maybe even like her on a good day. Yet her work ethic had put enough strain on their relationship to make any chance of them getting along non-existent.

Needless to say, they mostly hung out at Troy's apartment as a result.

"Yo, Blondie!" Troy spat, coming to stand in front of her. "What is your deal?"

Sharpay blinked once, slowly, before letting out a tired sigh. "What do you want, Bolton?" she asked. "I really don't have time for this."

Troy rolled his eyes. "Yes, because you are so busy doing your job."

"Are you just going to yell at me needlessly to let off some tension that you are currently harboring cause you haven't been laid in while?" Sharpay said, her voice dripping with false sympathy, "Because I'm fairly certain that isn't the best way to go about it. I am sure one of the girls in here would fuck you if you paid them!"

Rubbing his temples, Troy tried to count to three in his head before proceeding. Just take a few seconds to process the situation; Sharpay was a big mouthed, catty bitch, but she was also a big mouthed, catty bitch who was the daughter of his employer. One wrong move that he couldn't justify, couldn't talk himself out of, and he would be royally screwed. Not that Sharpay would necessarily tattle on him to daddy, but he could never be too sure. And while he was totally up for attacking her verbally, calling her a dumb spoiled bitch right now certainly wasn't going to get him anywhere. "Blondie," he took a deep breath, "please, for two seconds, be professional and hear me out."

Sharpay pursed her lips and leaned back from her seat on the stool. She wasn't even supposed to have the stool; she didn't have to sit for her job. But she had dragged it from the bar because she was fucking lazy, and also because she had worn heels so high that she nearly came up to Troy's nose. Given that she was tiny to begin with, this was no small feat. "You have ten seconds to plea your case, Bolton, and then get out of my face. I swear to god, your lack of work ethic is absolutely disgusting. I for one, am appauld at your inability to stay on course. I have work to do."

Troy glanced over to the top of the hostesses table. Sharpay had covered the thing with her notebook and about half a dozen colored Sharpies. On the pages of the notebook, she had simply written variations of her last name with Chad's over and over again. "Yeah, like I said, you seem really busy."

"I was!" Sharpay hissed. "I was going to start on my art homework! God, Bolton, you are useless. You just used up your entire ten seconds right there!"

"You didn't even tell me to start!" Troy gaped. "That's totally un-fucking-fair, Evans! You can't just do that! I demand we restart, once more!"

Sharpay shook her head, going back to her nail file. "Nope, can't, sorry. Time's up. Please leave your compliant with the manager, cause I do not care."

Rolling his eyes, Troy stepped forward and grabbed the night's table plan from underneath her notebook. Markers, sheets of paper, and a bottle of nail polish all tumbled off the surface, and Sharpay let out a shriek.

"What do you think you're doing!" she shouted, hopping off the stool and dropping to her knees to collect her things. "You just knocked over all of my stuff! You jackass!"

Troy pointed to his section. "You keep seating all of the expensive tables in everyone else's section but mine, Evans," he spit angrily. "That's unfair and you know it! Look, I know you hate me, but seriously, don't skimp on these kinds of things out of your petty nature. I need the money, and if you keep doing that, I will take it up with the manager!"

From her spot on the floor, Sharpay furrowed her brows and then blinked twice. "What are you talking about?" she said, folding her arms. "I'm not even seating people tonight. That's all Gabriella. That's not me."

"Gabriella?" Troy asked, placing the table chart back onto the table. "Who is that? A new girl?"

Sharpay's eyes grew wide and she let out a scoff. "Are you serious?" she asked blankly.

"Yes I'm serious!" Troy threw his hands up. "God, did you put her up to this? Decide to lay all of the work onto the poor new girl and insist that she fuck me over in the process? I swear, Blondie, you conniving bitch!"

Grabbing a marker off the floor, Sharpay stood up and threw it at Troy. "Shut up already, you asshole!" she yelled, "Take it up with Gabriella if you have such a problem! She's over there, with the black hair!" She pointed across the room to one of the register stands where a petite girl was standing, her hair in a long, high ponytail, her face hidden from view. "I have work to do!"

Troy shook his head and stared at her. "If Gabriella is doing all of the seating, then what are you doing then?"

"I told you!" Sharpay yelled, having gathered all of her things. She hopped up back on the stool. "I was going to start my art homework!"

Letting out an aggravated groan, Troy swiped up the table plan once more and began to stalk off. This new girl probably didn't know any better, but she was still going to get an earful, especially now that Sharpay had riled him up. Storming over to the register, he slammed the piece of paper in front of the girl.

"Hi," he began quickly, "you must be new, and I understand that things seem a little crazy and you're just doing what you're told, but this is a fucking joke, I—it's you!" Troy paused, his breath caught in his throat.

It was her. The girl from campus. Her long dark hair was pulled up high, but small strands were falling around her face, the curls framing it softly. Her cheekbones were high and defined, her lips pink and bow shaped, and her eyes were bright, brown, and expressive. She was gorgeous, not just the very pretty that he had categorized her as when he had seen her earlier on campus. She was stunning.

And she was also frowning at him, very perplexed.

"I'm sorry?" she asked, her head tilted to the side. She was holding a stack of receipts in one hand, and in her other was a pen, her own chart in front of her. Troy frowned.

"Um," he trailed off, still taken aback by her good looks. "You don't go to Columbia, do you?"

She furrowed her brows and narrowed her eyes. "Yes..."

Troy suddenly felt very small and very nervous. Fuck her for being so hot. Under any other circumstances, he would have yelled and been firm and explained his situation. But since she was so goddamn beautiful, a goddess of epic proportions, he lost all of his nerve. He was suddenly aware that his hair was kind of messy and he was fairy certain his shirt was wrinkled cause he could never figure out how to work an iron. Plus it was her, the girl he had seen earlier, and the something about her that he had noticed seemed to be hitting him in the face all over again. Swallowing, he tried to appear cool, suave, and not at all self-conscious.

"I think I've seen you around campus is all," he said casually, "I recognized you."

Gabriella shifted her eyes as if she wasn't quite sure of what was happening. "Uh huh," she said, taking the receipts and slipping them into the folder beside of the register. "I see. Okay." Picking up her pen and the table chart, she slipped out from behind the register counter and began to make her way across the restaurant and back to the entrance. Troy blinked, confused by her abrupt departure, and began to chase after her.

"I'm sorry!" he said, "I don't think I've introduced myself. My name's Troy. You must be new."

At this, Gabriella stopped, causing Troy to nearly crash into her. She turned around slowly and gave him a pointed look. "I've been working here for nearly two years."

Feeling immediately humbled, Troy ran a hand through his hair. "I know!" he said, though he really didn't, "I um, I...ah shit, I'm sorry," he gave up, "I have no excuse for why we have never spoken before."

Gabriella looked at him and shrugged, as if it didn't really matter to her that he had never paid her the time of day in the last almost two years. "It's okay," she said, folding her arms, "I work odd shifts. You work odd shifts. We're always busy. No big deal."

She turned back around to keep walking and it was as if he suddenly remembered why he was following her in the first place. "Um, but, just so you know, I'd kind of like to have a word with you."

"About what?" Gabriella asked, arriving at the entrance of the restaurant. She looked down at Sharpay's scattered belongings before raising her arm and in one quick motion, swiping the items off the surface and onto the floor. Sharpay let out another shriek and jumped down from her stool once more. Troy smirked. "Is there a problem?"

"Yeah, it's just," Troy cleared his throat, "you're seating the sections really unfairly tonight. I keep getting all of the cheap customers. And honestly, especially since you aren't new, you should probably know better."

Gabriella nodded, bending down and counting the menus beneath the counter. "I am aware. And I am seating everyone evenly."

Troy frowned. "No, you're not..."

"Yes, I am," Gabriella insisted. She paused from what she was doing and looked up at him. "I'm sorry if for whatever reason it seems like I am not, but I am. I wouldn't...I wouldn't do that. And given that you haven't noticed that I've worked here at all, I don't think you're in a position to question that."

Standing up, Gabriella plastered on a smile. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have customers to greet." An elderly couple came in and Gabriella welcomed them warmly, and then showed them to their section, leaving Troy and Sharpay standing there.

Sharpay let out a low whistle. "Yeah, there is no way you're getting laid any time soon."

"Shut up, Sharpay," Troy spit, watching Gabriella walk away, completely mesmerized, just as he had been earlier in the day.