A/N: So, second update! The amount of follows for the first chapter blew me away! Thanks guys!
Keep dropping reviews, alright? Any questions, any thoughts. I'll do my best to answer and reply to them. Thanks!
Also: I've never been to L.A, so I'll try my best not to dwell on the environment-and there probably will be a lot of artistic liberties taken with the setting. Just sayin'. Hopefully, I don't mess up.
Disclaimer: Glee does not belong to me, last time I checked.
"Welcome to Glee. As I've said on the phone, you and nine other contestants are competing for the Golden Lungs. Your first mission today is to get to the coordinates I'm giving you. Once there, someone will be on hand to pass you your task details. Good luck, and run hard."
"Hey, we didn't get the same coordinates." Santana pointed out, as Quinn read through her own text. The blonde scrunched up her forehead, her mouth flattening into a line. Santana recognised the habit-Quinn would never fess up to it, but she usually did that when she was unsure of something. Afraid. Dark eyes narrowed, focusing on her best friend. "You alright?"
Quinn glanced at the camera in front of them, and then at the crew behind their cameras, mouthing noiselessly to each other about god-knew-what. Santana figured camera angles and such. Probably about the entire debacle as it were too. Whatever Mercedes and Sue Sylvester had cooked up for them, Santana wasn't too excited for finding out. Alone, they were already classifiably insane. Together?
No one would be safe. Especially not her. Considering her history with the two.
"I guess. This all seems really weird, you know?" Santana could only agree. But hey, it was Hollywood. Sometimes, you choose what you do in Hollywood; but most of the time, Hollywood chose for you.
"We could…not do it. I'm sure Jake stuffed the release forms we signed into that messenger bag he left in the hallway. I could grab it, rip it, and the two of us could take on…"
Quinn snorted, not able to hide her amusement till Santana finished her plan. "Calm down, San. Maybe we should give it a go. Schuester obviously thinks it'll be good for your career."
Santana rolled her eyes. Sometimes she wondered why she didn't just fire the man. Her agent made the weirdest decisions for her, most of the time, under the guise of it being 'good for her career'. Still, the guy hadn't been wrong before. "Yeah, just what I need. The lead female in 'The Man Who Saved the Earth', busting her ass on a gameshow that's probably set up to humiliate us. What does Emma think?"
It was Quinn's turn to roll her eyes. "My manager decided the band needed the publicity for our next album."
"You guys already get sold-out concerts. What more 'publicity' can you guys need?"
"Maybe this is a good thing." Quinn stood, stretching. Her blue blouse rode up slightly, exposing her fit stomach. "You know, show everyone a different side to us. I love the fans. Maybe this is a good thing." She glanced at her best friend. "I'm not doing it without you, though. So, suck it up. If we do get embarrassed, you get half."
Santana watched the blonde with a smirk. "Seriously? What about all that nonsense about us competing for the golden-something? Would you really want me whooping your ass on national television?"
"You wish. You don't even know if it's national."
"It's Sue Sylvester and Wheezy. We're Santana Lopez, the 'It' woman, and Quinn Fabray, lead singer of Not Indie. I wouldn't be surprised if it was international."
"You're bringing that into my car?" Santana asked, holding the driver's door open. Her Lamborghini Reventon Roadster was her pride and joy. The only people that have ever been allowed in it were her and Quinn. Not even her Mami had been in the car.
Marley glanced at Jake. "Uh, yeah, I guess." She was holding the handheld camera that had been on the coffee table before, balancing it on her shoulder. It was still filming, as Santana had been told. Jake held the boom mic steadily, nodding along.
Sighing, Santana stepped away from her convertible, slamming the door and locking it. "Come on, we'll take my other car. I wouldn't want to make it harder for you. Wind must really mess up audio." Walking steadily, Santana crossed the spacious garage to get to her decoy car, the hybrid she used when she didn't want to be noticed. Quinn rolled by, behind the wheel of her own less conspicuous car, Kitty and Asian Face in the passenger and backseat, respectively.
"Hey, San. I'll see you later?" Quinn asked, hoping that whatever they had in store for them, she could more than handle. If they pit her against her friend though…
Santana pulled her lips into her mouth, blinking slightly in her tee and jeans. Only Santana Lopez could wear something so casual, and pass it off as a designer's headlining piece in a summer collection. "We'll see. And Q?"
"Yeah?"
"Good luck." Quinn nodded, knowing that despite their differences and whatever was coming up, she had Santana in her corner.
"You too. Stay safe."
Santana smirked, hearing her unspoken promise echoed back to her. Sometimes, she was really glad Quinn Fabray was her friend. "Yes, mami."
The coordinates brought her to the heart of the city, in front of one of the many strings of shops that would line the roads winding through L.A. Furrowing her brows, Santana double-checked the GPS. Shouldn't they have ended up in some soundstage with an obstacle course or something?
Nope. This was where she was supposed to be.
"Seriously. What the hell am I doing?" Santana grumbled, killing her engine, and getting out of her car, absentmindedly holding the door open for Marley, who scrambled out of the passenger seat. She looked around their surroundings too, as mystified as she was. Jake pulled himself out of the car, his long frame leaking out onto the sidewalk, blinking at where they were. Santana reached back into her vehicle, fiddling in her glove compartment for her sunglasses she always stored there.
Slipping her aviators on, she turned to the two. "What now?"
She tried not to bristle when they just shrugged. People were walking past them, busy about their own day, tourists among them gawking at everything. Santana didn't know what exactly they were amazed by, the sheer amount of retail shops selling clothes, or the almost absurd normalcy of it all. L.A. had its own vibe, Santana figured. She could certainly relate. Even she herself had to pinch her arm from time to time, just to reassure herself that yes, that was Robin Thicke in the supermarket, and yes, that was Angelina Jolie ducking into the nursing room to feed her latest adopted baby.
But it was something she liked about the city. That you could just forget that thousands of people probably adored you and have seen you through a screen or in a cinema but never met you, and just lived. People who lived in L.A. never fussed about who you were; it was all about where you're from, and who you knew.
Turning, she saw a German couple stare her way, and decided that she better get moving, before they got up enough courage to ask for her autograph, or for a picture. She had a mission to carry out. Pulling out her phone again, she revisited the text she had gotten from who she could only assume was Mercedes.
"She said someone would be here…" Santana muttered, spinning in a slow circle as she tried to pinpoint just who exactly it might be. It could have been anyone-someone she had never met, or even a celebrity. She gritted her teeth when she couldn't find anyone on her first circle, and the German couple looked like they had just about gotten the nerve to come up to her.
"Alright, follow me." Quickly, she ducked into the nearest shop, hoping to hide there long enough for people to not recognise her. The last thing she wanted was to have to replace her car just because people could track it as hers.
Stepping into the cool confines of the spacious store, Santana nearly walked right back out, because as she realised too late, it specialised in lingerie. Marley giggled when she caught sight of Jake's sudden interest in the floor, his skin turning a splotchy purple due to his blush.
Huh. Maybe she could stay in here a bit longer…it was pretty empty.
"Hey, Jake, see anything you like?" She teased, walking deeper into the empty store-save for the sales ladies-forcing the crew members to follow her. "No, seriously. What? Red, purple? What about black? You look like a lace man." She couldn't resist, especially when Jake shot her a warning glare. Santana just smirked back, winking at Marley.
As she did, she noticed someone else enter the store, along with two more people, both lugging recording equipment. Stopping, Santana stood next to a drawer of underwear, looking over the shoulders of her two hanger-on's. "Is she with us?" She couldn't really see the face, hidden as it was by a chic woolly hat, and a thick scarf. Cashmere. Huh. Good taste.
The lady was searching for something, she realised, and noted the sticker stuck to the upper sleeve of her jacket. Santana began to walk towards her, when she was spotted.
"Santana Lopez?" As she heard the voice, Santana's jaw dropped.
"Unique?"
Everyone knew Wade 'Unique' Addams. There was no way any teenager worth their hormones didn't know the Mistress of the Stage. If Santana was a household name for her acting roles, then Unique was a household name for his personality and rise to fame.
Surprisingly, Unique had come from Lima, Ohio, just as Santana and Quinn had. Santana had never seen him in person before though, but the tabloids and fans always liked to speculate what would happen if they were ever to meet-Hollywood's 'It' girl, and the Mistress.
A part of Santana was kind of impressed-Sylvester sure knew how to run a show. She was certain that just them meeting would be enough to secure a large viewership. Idly, she wondered if Unique was solely there for her, or if she was the person giving out the tasks to everybody on the show.
"Well, it's nice to finally meet the girl everyone's talking about." Unique offered her hand out, and Santana took it, deciding not to take offense at the pronoun used.
"Likewise, Unique. You have no idea how many people want to see us standing next to each other; I wouldn't be surprised if people started to pair us together." As she said it, she noticed people beginning to slow down outside, teenagers that probably were supposed to be in school, instead of double-taking outside of lingerie shops and squealing when they recognised the two standing inside.
"Unique and Santana Lopez are two very fine ladies, I'll give them that." She winked, and Santana let a smirk settle comfortably on her lips. Unique wasn't too bad-Santana certainly admired her guts.
Deciding the pleasantries were out of the way, she began to feel adrenaline flood her veins. She was naturally competitive, and even if she still wasn't sure if she even wanted to be on the stupid show in the first place, she sure as hell wasn't going to be last. Besides, people were beginning to clog up the sidewalk, phones and cameras pointed into the shop, and if she didn't move now, the paparazzi probably wouldn't be too far behind.
"You have something to give me?"
Unique grinned, reaching into her jacket pocket, pulling out a non-descript brown envelope. "Here you go."
"I open this?" Santana double-checked, catching the finally brave shop assistants begin to creep along the edges of their small circle, looking like racoons and badgers trying to get into someone's tied garbage. The only thing keeping them away was probably the threat of filming.
"Go right ahead."
Pursing her lips, Santana carefully slid the top open, pulling out a piece of paper.
"Glad to see you arrived safely. Inside the envelope, you will find a bandana. Make sure it is visible on your person at all times-this is imperative. Failure to comply will result in disqualification."
Santana found the red cloth easily enough, noting the name of the show printed on it in white. She busied one hand to tie it to her right wrist, as she finished reading the instructions.
"Your first mission has begun. Scattered across the city are the other nine contestants. Two teams will have three members; the green team, you have four. Find all your members by the colour of their bandanas, and then head to the following coordinates."
Santana paused. Wait, that was it? Who were the other eight contestants? She only knew Quinn; how was she supposed to find two other people in this city? They could be just about anyone!
"You know, you and Quinn Fabray have quite an advantage."
"What?" Santana hummed, reading over the mission again. Maybe she was missing something.
"You know one other person; technically no one is supposed to know each other yet." Unique seemed to be quite amused by the way Santana was scrutinising the paper over and over again.
"Really?" Santana thought about it for a moment. Huh. Maybe she was right-it was probably luck that they happened to live together. But maybe that was the link? Roommates?
"It's not what you're thinking, darling." Unique laughed, sassily cocking her hips. "There's a connection between all the contestants. This is Sue Sylvester we're talking about. Owner of one of the highest grossing channels of all time. She's the goddess of reality tv. I'm sure you'll figure the connection out."
Seizing her with a look, Santana spoke heatedly. "But this doesn't make sense! What are the rules? What's the purpose of all this? The hell are the Golden Lungs?"
All she got in reply was an exaggerated tapping of a finger against the Mistress's wrist. "Tick-tock, Santana Lopez. Everyone else probably already have their missions too; it never hurts to be early in this game."
"Will I get disqualified or something?" Santana asked, resisting slightly as Unique began to bustle her towards the exit.
"Or something. Good luck!" And with that, she shooed Santana out the door, winking as she went along.
Santana stood, irritated beyond belief. Fine. If everyone was going to be vague, her only hope was to do as she was told and try not to slaughter the next person who wouldn't answer her questions.
Nodding towards her car, Santana plastered a polite smile for everyone squealing her name outside the store. She loved her fans, really, she did. The loss of her privacy? Not so much. Which was why, when people began to ask her why she was here so early in the morning, all they got as an answer was the signature smirk and a wave.
"Get in, get in." She urged under her breath, as she tried to stand out of reaching distance of the fangirls stretching their hands out for her. Marley and Jake didn't need to be told twice-they seemed pretty surprised at how fast the group had converged.
Shutting the door behind Jake and Marley, Santana crossed the front of her car and slid behind the steering wheel.
"Are they always like that?" Jake asked, awed. He was staring out her heavily tinted windows at the crowd, a position mimicked by Marley.
"Pretty much." Santana started the engine. "Now close your mouth. They can smell fear; they'll pounce on you and possibly put you through the Spanish Inquisition." Jake's jaw slammed shut.
"Where are we going?" Marley spoke up, her startled brown eyes still focused on a man who had lifted up his shirt to reveal a pudgy belly tattooed with the name of the star beside her.
Pulling out of her spot, Santana began to ease them away from the mob, only sparing them the barest glance in the rearview mirror. "Firstly, away from them. Then, I'm going to take advantage o my advantage, and call Q."
As they had made their way out of the lingerie store, Santana had managed to concoct some semblance of a plan. First, she would call her best friend. Find out if they were in the same team.
She had also figured out the most logical connection between all the contestants. Possibly, they were all celebrities. People that were probably big names, or familiar faces towards the audiences. Probably, like her and Quinn, needing the publicity.
It was a start.
Stopping at a red light, Santana noted a somewhat empty parking lot in front of a supermarket. Perfect. She could hide out there for a while.
She pulled to a stop, leaving the engine running, before pulling out her phone and pressing the second number on speed dial. It rang two times, and then-
"San?" Quinn sounded breathless, like she had been running. Immediately, Santana furrowed her brows.
"Q? What's going on?" She was acutely aware of the two people in her car recording her every word, but she didn't care. Her best friend came before everything; even her tough reputation.
"I'm being chased." Quinn cursed softly, and Santana picked up the faint background shout of "Corner her!"
Santana sat straighter, her foot resting on the accelerator.
"Quinn, where are you?"
"Don't come, San! I don't want them getting you too!"
"Bitch, tell me where you are!" She was yelling, but really, her heart was thumping louder than her voice could ever go. What the hell was going on? If Quinn was being chased, did that mean Santana was a target too? Who were the people chasing her?
"A...a park. Some residential neighbourhood. San, please, don't find me. They're...they have the bandanas from the show. Green. I think they're trying to steal mine; eliminate me. Shit!" Quinn's end went quiet for a while, and Santana listened harder than ever trying to differentiate the noises she could hear. A rustling of some sort, and loud, heavy footsteps. Quinn gasping quietly.
"Q?" Santana whispered, needing to make sure her friend was safe. A dull noise; Santana realised Quinn was tapping on the mouthpiece. "Good. Keep tapping."
The footsteps were coming closer, and then a sigh that was definitely not Quinn came across the phone. Quinn stopped her tapping long enough for Santana to hear the words being said.
"Damnit, where did Fabray go? Finn? Yo, man. We lost her. Come on, we need to find the last member of our team, and then we gotta bail. Q's not green. Red. Yeah...no, tell Sugar that I won't get her..." The voice trailed off, as did the footsteps.
Quiet.
"He's gone."
"The fuck? Was that Puckerman?" Santana was reeling. What the hell was Puck doing here? And had he been talking to Finn?
"Yeah." A moment. "I think I know who we're looking for. Celebrities-"
"Big names, personalities. Yeah, yeah. Way ahead of you, Q. Wait, if your bandmates are in this..."
"I guess Artie's somewhere too." Quinn exhales shakily. "Shit, San. Just what the hell is going on?"
"My sentiments exactly." Santana checked all three mirrors before pulling out of the lot. "Look, are you red?"
"Yeah."
"Then, tell me where you are. We need to find our last member together."
Stepping out of her car, Santana couldn't shake off her paranoia. She felt like she was being watched, and not just by cameras.
"Creepy stuff." She remarked off-handedly, texting Quinn to tell her that she was already at their meeting spot. Santana shivered, feeling a chill despite the sun having climbed higher in the sky. It was almost noon, and her stomach was beginning to make itself known, growling. Maybe they could pick up something to eat along the way.
Marley was glancing around with quick movements. "Do you feel like...we're being watched?"
"Like I said, creepy stuff." Santana repeated, signalling that the crew should remain in the hybrid, where it was safer if they needed to make a break for it. Jake and Marley followed unconditionally, getting back inside. Santana kept her guard up, dark eyes tracking any movement in the quiet park.
The sound of a car horn had her jumping out of her skin, a loud curse ripping out of her throat.
"Fabray!" She scowled, stalking over to the laughing blonde that had parked behind her car while she had been deep in concentration. She was going to kill that bitch...
"You should have seen your face! Priceless!" Kitty and Aisan in Pigtails were laughing as well, cracking up behind their equipment. Flipping the bird with a false smile, Santana reached inside the open driver's window and poked her roommate hard in the ribs.
"Yeah, well, you know what else is priceless? The story of that one time, when we went to that bar, and you got-"
Quinn slapped a hand over the Latina's mouth, her face blushing hard. "Shut up!"
Santana just smirked, ripping herself free. "Anyway, tactical meeting. We have to find our last team member, and head to the coordinates before the others-"
"Done. I know who she is." Quinn cut in, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Santana's eyebrow raised at the interruption, but she looked at what Quinn was trying to point out anyway, not liking the slightly uncomfortable smirk tilting her friend's lips.
As she scanned the tabloid website Quinn has up on her screen, she felt her scowl take on a new level at showing her disgust, as she saw the picture and scanned the article.
"You have got to be shitting me."