A/N: Well how 'bout it. This piece of work is my first committed story. I hope you enjoy the ride and we'll have fun.
Rating: It's T for now, but that will most certainly change as the story progresses...Hehe.
Disclaimer: If anyone asks. Nope, I own nothing! RIB and Fox beat me to the punch.
Chapter 1: Special Delivery- Fake pirates and Pandora's Box
Brittany had just stepped foot out of her apartment in downtown Manhattan, when her dispatcher crackled in through the 2-way nestled in the strap of her backpack.
"Bright eyes, hey!"
Brittany fumbled with her strap, trying to find the button on the radio that would transmit her voice. She always had trouble with the whole PTT aspect of using it. How come they couldn't just talk after the other person finished?
When she finally mashed the rectangular button on the side of the radio, she had already locked her door and started for the stairwell.
"Hi Wally!" She said brightly, grinning when a few stray kids came rushing past her and down the flight of stairs she was on. Their giggles and playful screams only making the smile on her face grow. The best part though, was the panic stricken mother who came running behind them a few minutes later. Only stopping to send Brittany a questioning glare, who in return pointed in the general direction of the escaped kids. Their mother disappeared in pursuit of them soon after, a mess of big bright pink rollers and an open robe. She had no idea maternity clothes could be so…revealing.
"Brittany hon, I need you on this delivery. It's at this new big time money mogul. Complete pricks if you ask me. Are you up for it?" Wally's drawl was very distinctive. His voice was throaty and a little startling at times. Perhaps the fact that he was practically a smoking chimney aided in the ominous, gravely tone of his voice.
She furrowed her brows in confusion, she had been all across New York countless times and not once had she seen any kind of 'big business' construction. It wasn't possible to put up a huge skyscraper overnight was it?
"Umm, totally. Where is it?" She asked, as she hopped off the second to last step, her feet hitting the concrete with a soft thump. Brittany was always up for something new. She jiggled the U-Lock that went around one of her bike spokes and secured it to the rack. She quickly jammed the key in the lock, smiling when she heard the familiar click of the opening.
"It's up the street a few blocks from you actually." Now Brittany was even more perplexed at how she hadn't noticed the building before.
"Just head down the main avenue from your apartment and keep going straight until you see the burned down pizza parlor. Turn left and you should be able to see it as you're coming up…It's pretty damn big." His voice ended abruptly which let Brittany know that his finger was off the button and she could talk.
"Okay awesome." Her smile could be heard through the radio. She picked up her bike with ease, its carbon fiber based frame making it easy to lift. She carried it a ways down from her apartment building, turning the corner and heading into the bustling sunny streets of Lower Manhattan.
Once she set the bike down, making sure to keep hold of it with one hand, she readjusted the strap of her backpack. It was thick comfortable material that ran the length of her chest diagonally. The back portion of the bag fit between her shoulder blades comfortably, which made for an easier delivery when she had heavy packages.
In one swift motion, she swung her left leg over the bike, placing her hands on the bars and kicking off with the right leg still planted firmly on the ground. She threw a quick glance over her left shoulder to see if there were any cars coming. Of course there were cars, but they weren't moving at a considerable speed—more like snail's pace.
Then she took off. Her legs were pumping and propelling the bike forward and into the busy yellow streets. The 2-way on her shoulder came to life again. First there was static and then Wally's voice range clear.
"Hey…Brittany." There was a pause and then he spoke up again, his voice firm. "When you deliver this package, be quick about it. When the call came in the guy seemed kind of nervous, and he sounded shady. The fellas weren't up for it so I decided to ask my best girl. You're my money maker, bright eyes…just be careful."
"Okay Wally." Brittany smiled. He was always extra cautious with the things he dispatched her. The minute she accidently stumbled through those doors all those years ago, he and frankly the entire shop were completely taken with her easy blue eyes and dazzling smile. Even his wife adored her. She tried to stuff Brittany with as much food as possible whenever she was around. She always chastised her for not eating proper meals. 'Beautiful girls need to eat too, doll' she would say.
"Hey, ask Lisa to save me a plate. Oh, and don't go in the washroom, Lord Tubbington was playing Cheesy murder yesterday afternoon. Crisp Bacon did it…There's fondue all over the place."
When Wally's voice rang through again there was the distinct sound of laughter. "Dammit Brittany, let me have a serious moment for once in my life."
Brittany sighed, pressing down the button. "Bye Wally."
She had already mixed herself in with the vibrant city. All the sounds came together in one loud orchestra of noise. Slamming taxicab doors, slamming car doors. Honking horns. Fussing truck drivers and deliverymen. Foreign cab drivers yelling out of their windows. Barking city mutts and street performers banging away. It all came together in a strange harmonious raucous.
But there she was, zipping through it all so freely. Her loose flowing hair whipped wildly beneath her helmet as she cut through the air and through the dangerous maze of cars and stray opening doors. At any moment she could collide with a car, a door, or even someone walking across the street. She kept pedaling though, pumping her legs faster and harder. There was no point in slowing down because she wasn't planning on stopping any time soon. It felt like she was flying.
She soon fell into the familiarity of the streets, smiling when the warmth from the bakery could be felt emanating from the shop as she passed. As well as the yelling and shouting about "burnt cannolis!? Giovanni, why can't you get a girl? Maybe then you'll finally become a man and stop living at my shop!"
Brittany laughed, 'Giovanni' had been living there for years apparently. She continued on, catching whiff of the sweet smelling lilies from the flower shop that mingled with the wind. Brittany quickly cut the corner once she arrived at the checkpoint, leaning a little into the turn to make sure she didn't turn wide and into oncoming cars. The burned down pizza parlor sat right there at the corner.
"Hey! Brittany!" A figure across the street was waving frantically in an attempt to get her attention. It worked. Brittany turned her head in the direction of the voice, quickly catching sight of a brown head of hair. She had become distracted for only a second. Bad idea.
Almost in slow motion, Brittany had turned back around when a cab door opened out in front of her. Out came a red stiletto clad foot, followed closely by the most delicious legs Brittany had ever seen. Perfectly sun kissed olive in tone and they looked so smooth.
All too soon though, she ended up colliding front first with the door and tumbling off her bike with about as much grace as Mike Tyson. Move like a butterfly and it stung like hell. Wait…that was Mohammad Ali. She landed with an 'oof.'
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Legs and Stilettos yelled from the cab, quickly slipping out of her seat and into the sun.
Brittany was still trying to untangle herself from the confines of her bike—which was a mess of limbs and bike frame—but she looked up when she heard that voice. Brittany was nothing short of awestruck. She couldn't see the woman's face because the sun was directly overhead, casting a mysterious shadow over her face. But god, her voice was like unicorns riding a rainbow. Totally gay and totally okay. It was perfectly raspy but rolled smoothly from her tongue.
It seemed like she had lost all brain to mouth function due to what she said next. "Are you seeing them too? The angels I mean?" Brittany asked, but that's not what she wanted to say at all. Sometimes when she was nervous or excited, she would say the weirdest things. Of course when she asked the question she was referring to the angel standing right in front of her.
"Oh my god, you hit your head really hard didn't you? Ugh I can't deal with this right now, I'm gonna be late." She stepped out from in front of the sun, and now Brittany could see her clearly. She started smiling ridiculously large, and the woman flinched away from the crazy girl still lying on the ground.
Stilettos began fumbling around in her purse—probably looking for something. She sighed when she pulled her phone out, quickly dialing a number in and waiting. Brittany was of course still lying on the ground because she had no idea what was going on.
"Hello 911, what's your emergency?" Brittany could hear the greeting on the other side of the phone. She quickly got to her feet, albeit haphazardly while stumbling over her bike, but still she got up on her feet nonetheless.
"Yes, some crazy chick on a bike ran into my cab door. I think she might have hit her head when she fell…" The woman trailed off, glancing at a disheveled Brittany and then talking into the phone again. "She thought I was an angel." She laughed sarcastically. Brittany reached for the phone quickly slipping it from the woman's unsuspecting grip and speaking into the receiver.
"911…person. I'm fine. Don't send the screaming car, it's scary."
The person on the other side of the phone paused for a second, and then spoke up. "Brittany!" He yelled down the line.
"Sam!" Brittany yelled back, she had no idea he had become an emergency operator.
"I thought you would've learned by now that cab doors are a no-no." He chastised her.
"It's not my fault," she turned to glance at the woman who was currently trying to get her phone back. Brittany placed her hand on her chest—not there—to keep her from getting to it. "She should have looked before she decided to open the door." The woman scoffed indignantly and Brittany smiled.
"Yeah, well since this isn't an actual emergency I have to go. There's other people who might just be dying while I'm here talking to you about cab doors."
"Bye Sam!" She quickly hung up before he could say it back. She loved doing that, because he would get angry and then try to call her back to say bye. Brittany turned back to Stilettos who was practically fuming.
"Can I have my phone back now, Blondie?" She stuck her hand out expectantly. Brittany was confused—who was Blondie? That wasn't her name…was she trying to be funny? She didn't hear any honking horns or feel a nudge to her ribs.
"What? My name is Brittany…"She trailed off, frowning at the scowling woman in front of her. She handed the phone over hesitantly, but surprisingly the woman didn't snatch it from her, she gently pulled it from her fingers.
"I'm so sorry for running into your door like that." Brittany apologized. "And thanks for calling 911 just in case." She was bashful all of a sudden, somehow embarrassed that this stranger cared about her safety.
"Yeah, whatever. Just watch where you're going next time." She dismissed Brittany's thanks while eyeing her get up. A tight and tiny gray tank top, that rose just above her belly button. She wore skintight biking shorts underneath loose purple and light blue running shorts, as well as leg warmers…on her arms. The smallest of smiles crept up on the woman's face. Brittany noticed.
"Yeah," Brittany took a look at her watch, not really being able to tell if it was the long hand that told the hour or the second, or the short hand that told the hour or the minute. She sighed in frustration.
"Um, what time is it?" She asked the woman still standing in front of her. Taking off the leg warmers and stuffing them in her backpack.
"A little after three, why?" She griped.
"I have to go!" Brittany still had a package to deliver, and Wally was counting on her to make it. She took a look at her ruined bike and just decided she'd run the rest of the way, there wasn't much left to travel anyways. She readjusted her bag and picked up her trashed bike, throwing it in the alley next to the sidewalk. Some bum would probably come along and use the parts.
She turned on her heel, preparing to take off but not without saying bye to Ms. Legs and Stilettos. "Bye," she waved shyly and then she took off leaving her perfect stranger—with pitch-black hair so dark it shined red in the sunlight—behind.
She had finally made it to the building. Wally was right when he said it was big. It was unnecessarily huge. BIOTECH was hanging in big, angry red letters at the very top.
Brittany quickly crossed the street, which was fairly empty compared to the traffic on other streets. She circled the building in search of the entrance for messengers and other couriers. When she found it she quickly pulled it open, immediately struck by how cold the inside was. It was kind of dark and damp and to the left was the freight elevator that would carry her to base level where the secretary was.
A big brute of a man stood just to the left of the door—like immediately to the left—and it startled Brittany when he stepped from out of the shadows and into the unflattering fluorescent light. "Can I see some identification?" He remained stoic behind his one black eye patch. How cliché, Brittany thought.
"Are you a pirate?" She questioned simply. The guard shook his head, not really answering her question but not completely ignoring it either. He was still waiting for her to show some identification, so she took out her card with her name, her employer and all that jazz on it. While she was handing it over she continued talking to 'Mr. Brooding Silent Type.'
"Well maybe you shouldn't wear that eye patch. Pirates get angry when there's an impostarrrgh," she exaggerated the last syllable in the word, trying to sound like a pirate. She even went so far as to curl her finger up in an imaginary hook and swipe at the air. He gave her a look, raising a perfectly bushy eyebrow above his eye patch and handing her, her ID back. Well that went well she thought.
"Bye," she waved and all he did was nod but she smiled because he acknowledged her goodbye.
Be quick about it. She remembers what Wally said so she rushed to the freight elevator, pressing the only one button there is that will take her up. She closes the cage like doors and waits for the creaking to stop and the elevator to move. She is at the secretary desk a few moments later, ready to sign off on the package. Then she's swung for a loop.
"Ah, Brittany," the secretary clasps his hands together as he moves from behind the desk and towards her. She instinctively takes a few steps back, smiling good-naturedly but remaining cautious of the man. For one thing, how did he know her name and why was he actively trying to engage her? Most times during a delivery Brittany wouldn't even make eye contact with a client…it was against unspoken policy. Second, his smile was beyond too big and his curly hair looked like he had used a full can of PAM on it. A brilo pad dipped in butter.
"Oh, how rude of me! My name is Will Schuester, it's nice to finally meet you," he extends his hand—waiting for what Brittany guesses is a handshake. She slips her hand into his, wincing a little when his calloused fingers grip her palm a little too roughly. "Nice. Strong handshake." He comments offhandedly.
"Um, yeah. I'm here for the package?" She questions, wondering if that's really what she was there for.
"Oh! Yes of course. It's right here." He starts, as if he had forgotten about it completely. Seriously, this dude was a scatterbrain. He leans back against the desk, slipping his arm behind him to fumble for the package.
When he pulls it out, he doesn't hand it over right away. Instead he gazes at the disgusting peeling tape with an eerie sense of awe. Then he starts circling Brittany like she was a shiny new car on display. She shifts uncomfortably, and couldn't help but feel like she was being examined. Wally never said anything about her having to take a test. She hated tests. He finally stops when he's done a couple laps. He stands right in front of her, the box in his hands extended forward. As she slips the package from his hands he whispers "perfect subject."
Substantially creeped out, Brittany signs the paper, slamming the pen down and turning on her heel to head for the freight elevator. She's just about to step into it when Will yells something from behind her. An address that she guesses is where the package should be dropped. She closes up the elevator and smiles as it's going down.
The thing is…she knew that address wasn't to a building at all. It was the intersection at Time Square.
Since her bike wasn't an option, Brittany caught the subway that ended just a ways down from the intersection at Broadway, 7th Av and 42nd St.
Times Square. Absolute controlled chaos. Tourists, flashing cameras, skyscraper sized show posters. All the chaos came to a head here, at this intersection.
Brittany surveyed the area, hoping to find someone to drop the package with. She didn't see anyone that stuck out as her next drop point. Just an old lady that kept talking to the two rats—yes, sewer sized rats—in her lap.
Her 2-way was picking up static and a garbled voice. She pressed down the button. "Wally, is that you?"
"Hello Brittany." The voice came through loud and clear. It wasn't Wally's voice. His voice was deep, but this voice was bellowing, it shook your stomach like a drum line.
"Who is this?" She panicked. Only she and Wally shared this frequency.
"Just…" he paused. The package in Brittany's hands began shaking, rumbling within its cardboard and tape covered containment. "A concerned citizen."
She had attracted the attention of a few curious onlookers by then, since she was practically yelling into the radio on her shoulder. Suddenly a bright blue beam of light shot straight through the package into her eyes and momentarily blinding her. It sounded like the pistons on some big robot were exploding and creaking against each other. It was deafening. She could hear the distinct sound of screaming and panic. She wondered why she hadn't dropped the package and ran yet.
When she could finally open her eyes, the beam of light shooting out of the package had increased to twenty or thirty. It was like everything had been encased in molasses. The running people and screams were all slowed down to a steady crawl. Even the cops headed her way were moving slowly. Except she wasn't frozen in slow motion, only everyone and everything besides her and the box she was carrying.
She took a step forward and the package began shaking so hard that it jostled her whole body. Then in an instant it exploded, erupting into a massive dome of blinding blue light. It engulfed her entire body, and the searing pain quickly followed. It was unbearable, the pain she felt. It was like dull knives were slowly slicing her open and then she was being sown back up all wrong. Pins and needles that felt like electricity moved throughout her body. What was worse was that she could see it all happening right in front of her. The small slithers of blue energy crawling up her arms from where she was holding the box. It seeped into her and surged with a strong flash of light that shone from beneath her skin. The slithers were rapidly spreading up the length of both her arms that were glued to the box by her hands.
The dome of light—or whatever it was—spread rapidly, sucking up everything it came across. She thought it was just another harmless cardboard package with the tape peeling off. But then it wasn't so harmless anymore. No…this was something entirely different.
Next chapter should be up sometime next week.