A/N: This chapter is a little shorter than the others, but the next one is long, so hopefully it'll make up for it. :)
.-.
The morning sun was high in the sky by the time the large black blur finally came to a halt, stopping along the border of a giant dirt crater.
Quinn surveyed the area with a critical eye, her mouth pursed in displeasure. It was obvious the star had landed here. But the question was: where was it now? There was nothing here. It was possible the star was in hiding, but it was also possible it was long gone from this place, or worse, someone else had found it. Quinn growled at the thought. There was no way she was going to let another star slip though her fingers. Not after her foolish mistakes from last time.
Noticing movement on the opposite side of the crater where three men stood, examining the baffling scene, Quinn nodded to her two companions and they quickly sped across. They bridged the distance within moments and Quinn slowly slinked up to the man obviously in charge, while Brittany and Santana approached the other two, hips swinging suggestively and their pinky fingers hooked together.
"Hi," she smiled seductively, gazing deeply into his eyes.
"H-h-hi," her prey stammered out.
"And just who might you be?" she asked coyly.
The man blinked at her hazily. "Sherriff Figgins."
"Ooh, really?" Quinn cooed, and continued to stare into his eyes as he gulped and nodded his head. "And your friends?"
"My-my deputies. Bamboo and Ryan."
"Really?" Quinn batted her eyelashes. "And what's going on here?"
"W-we don't quite know." The Sherriff answered breathlessly. Quinn's smile widened as he slowly spiraled into her trap. Men were so easy. "All we know is that there's this giant crater in the middle on the old Callahan field, and a flipped truck."
She looked at the beaten up truck and quickly realized someone had beaten them to the star. She needed to know who. They must have found her, possibly helped her. Quinn just prayed that they weren't too late. If they captured the star before she gave up her wish, then they'd finally be free. After being trapped in servitude for almost half a century, Quinn was desperate for freedom. They all were. She owed it to her friends to make this happen.
After all, it was her fault they were trapped. It had taken more than a century, but she'd finally gotten Santana to forgive her, while Brittany had been a bit more understanding. She had promised that she would make good, and this was finally her chance. Finally.
Quinn's eyes flashed discreetly to Santana and Brittany, their wrapped arms around the necks of the deputies and staring deep into the deputies' eyes, enchanting them with their captivating smiles. She spoke to them silently as they moved, her own flirtatious grin on her lips. Remember girls, it's all about the teasing, and not about the pleasing.
"Oh? Who does the truck belong to?" she asked, bringing her own arms up to circle his neck.
"I-I really shouldn't say." Sherriff Figgins stammered out with difficultly, trying to lean his body away from her grasp.
Quinn suddenly gripped his neck tighter, angling his face towards hers to draw him in further under her spell. "Who does the truck belong to?" she asked a little more forcefully, drawing her face closer to his.
His eyes fluttered slightly, becoming even more flustered. "P-Puck. N-Noah Puckerman. He lives in town, over at 32 Grace Street."
The three girls smiled, positively menacingly.
"Thanks for that," Quinn whispered quietly. She watched as his eyes followed her lips drawing ever closer to his, his mouth puckering slightly to accept her kiss. But as his eyes shuttered close, Quinn's arms jerked suddenly, simultaneously with Brittany's and Santana's, each girl snapping the necks of their victims with a resounding crack. "It's exactly what we needed."
The three bodies crumpled unceremoniously, thumping loudly as they hit the ground.
"What do you think?" Santana asked as she and Brittany approached Quinn, ignoring the dead bodies of their victims.
"We hit the town," Quinn commanded, her face contorted in disgust. "Whoever has our Queen's star will fall just as easily as this filth."
Santana and Brittany nodded in agreement, and once again they were off in a dark blur.
.-.
An hour.
That was how long it had been since Rachel had started talking. Ever since they had stepped onto the bus, she had been going non-stop. This girl obviously only had one speed: light speed. Talking about everything, from the scenery, to the dusty smell of the bus, to the miracle of "automobile machinery." The number of topics this girl could talk about was endless. Puck was just thankful that the bus was relatively empty, otherwise they'd have probably been kicked off in the last town for disturbing the other travelers.
He guessed those were the perks of catching the early bird bus, but still, he'd been hoping to catch up on some much needed sleep before they arrived in New York.
"… Making Tommy Tune the first to win Tony gold in four categories." Rachel chatted on happily.
"Uh huh," Puck sighed, his head propped up uncomfortably by his hand. "Totally interesting." Finally deciding he couldn't take it anymore, he turned to Rachel and covered her mouth with his hand. "Look, Rachel, as great as all this is, I've been walking all night, not to mention I haven't slept in almost twenty-four hours. I'm just really fucking tired and your constant talking isn't really helping things."
Rachel looked slightly taken aback and opened her mouth to explain. However, Puck's hand muffled her words. She shrugged his hand away. "I really am sorry, Noah," she said, her brow furrowed. "I'm just excited. I've never..."
"Yeah, I know." Puck sighed again, cutting her off again. He gave her a small apologetic smile to let her know he wasn't annoyed, just tired.
He watched, amused as she tried to keep quiet, her lips pressed together tightly, but he could tell simply by the excited bouncing of her knees that she wasn't going to last long.
"Do you know how many great performers have performed on Broadway?" She finally burst out, still as bubbly as ever. She just couldn't seem to help herself. "And just think, in ten short hours, I'll be another aspiring performer in New York City, trying to reach the majestic halls that are coveted by so many wonderful people." She was practically jumping in her seat.
Puck could feel his eyes drooping, already drifting off to sleep and barely taking in her words when...
His eyes snapped open again and he frowned. "How do you even know all this stuff anyway?" It had only just occurred to him. Rachel was a star. She had never even eaten food before. How the hell did she know about Broadway to begin with?
Rachel looked away, almost bashfully. "Well, it can sometimes be quite dull being a star. We have nothing to do but look down at the Earth and observe. It allows for a lot of free time, and my favorite pastime has always been watching Broadway. The many different shows that have come and gone over the years; they're all just so amazing."
Puck nodded thoughtfully, before frowning again. "How many years?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" Rachel asked confused.
"Well, this Tommy Tune guy sounds old," Puck elaborated. "So just how old are you?"
"Oh well," she herself looked puzzled at his question. "I don't know." She considered it for a moment before continuing. "I've never really thought about it. I've just always been up there, watching. So, well, I guess we're ageless."
"We?"
"Yeah," Rachel nodded. "Me and my family."
"You mean the stars? You're a... a... family?" he asked, taking in this new information. It was all pretty mind-blowing. He'd had hours to get used to the idea, but he wasn't sure he was quite there yet. Rachel nodded again, answering his disbelieving question. "So what's your last name then?"
Rachel tilted her head and looked at him contemplatively.
From his vantage point, Puck had a good view down the expanse of her neck and he almost groaned. However this time it was in frustration. Why did he find everything about her so arousing? It was just her neck, for fuck's sake! The image of him trailing kisses along that neck sprang to mind, leaving a line of hickeys in a variety of different shapes like balloon animals. He was a freaking connoisseur when it came to hickeys.
"Hmm, I guess it's Star." She giggled softly to herself, which only added to the fantasy.
Puck frowned again, trying again to push his stray thoughts away. "So your name is Rachel Star?"
Rachel shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, I suppose so."
"Well, that's just stupid," Puck said without thinking.
"Hey!" Rachel protested loudly, hitting his arm. "That's such a mean thing to say!"
"Oh, well, I didn't mean 'stupid' stupid," Puck scrambled to explain. "I just meant that you can't be a Broadway star with a name like 'Rachel Star' it's too cheesy. We have to think of a better one."
She took a minute to mull over his words before replying. "Oh, okay. I guess that makes sense." Rachel said with a small smile, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "I've never even considered that before. Well, what do you think it should be? I know that a lot of the greats have unique and wonderful names that inspire awe just by letting them pass through your lips." Suddenly, Rachel began jumping up and down in her seat. "Oh! Oh! I know, I can be Rachel Barbra!" she exclaimed.
"Barbra?" Puck repeated, unconvinced.
"Yes! Barbra! She's my favorite Broadway star. My idol. I want to be her. It just makes sense that I have her name."
Puck laughed, but shook his head. "No, that won't do. She's already famous. You want to make your own name."
"Oh," Rachel replied, rather dejectedly. She thought it was rather perfect, actually.
"But hey, look," Puck continued encouragingly. "Maybe it can be your middle name or something."
Rachel met his gaze and shot him a wide smile. "Really? You don't think that wouldn't be too, what was the word you used…? 'Cheesy'?"
"Yeah," Puck laughed and nodded. "Why not? Rachel Barbra. It's kinda catchy, so we just need to think of a last name."
Rachel's smile widened. "Any ideas? There are a multitude of great names out there. It'll be hard to find one that hasn't already been taken. It'll be a miracle, really, if we can find one that can live up to the standards of so many great artists."
Puck thought for a moment, watching her, before his face tilted with an almost evil smirk. "How about Rachel Barbra 'Talkalot'?" He teased playfully.
"Noah!" Rachel admonished, but Puck could still see the blush blossoming along her neck as she looked away shyly. "This is serious. It regards my future as a Broadway star. And I don't appreciate that you're not treating it as such!"
"No? Then how about Rachel Barbra 'Nevershutsup'?" he teased further.
Rachel giggled loudly, her laughter filling the otherwise quiet bus. "Okay, now you're just being mean!"
.-.
Quinn kicked open the large white front door of 32 Grace Street before stalking inside. She could already tell that the house was completely empty, her excellent hearing zeroing in on nothing more than the dripping sound of a leaky tap upstairs. It was obvious that if the star had indeed been here, she had since moved on.
"Spread out and search for clues." She commanded as she moved further into the house.
The three of them searched the house quickly, thoroughly checking for any sign of the star. However, they found nothing.
It wasn't until they reached the kitchen that Quinn noticed the messy scrawl of "Puck" on the refrigerator. She stormed over and plucked up the note. It read: Ma, gone to NYC for a couple of days. Should be back soon. I'll call you when I get there. Puck.
Quinn steamed in frustration, her sparkling green eyes flashing dangerously. She turned around swiftly and swung her leg in a viscous back kick, aiming for the large square dining table. It flew towards the wall, splintering into a pile of wood. "She's not here," Quinn bit out. "It doesn't even look like she's even in Lima anymore."
"The Queen is not going to be happy with this." Santana remarked in a bored voice. Quinn turned to see the Latina leaning against a nearby wall, examining her hands as if checking for dirt beneath her perfectly manicured nails.
"Will you shut up, and at least try to be helpful?" Quinn barked. "Don't you want to find her, too?"
Santana rolled her eyes. "Overdramatic much?"
Brittany reached out and laid a calming hand gently on Quinn's shoulder, shooting Santana a pointed look. Santana rolled her eyes at Brittany but remained silent.
"Quinn?" said softly, her face drooping in a sad smile. "What should we do?"
Quinn closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, looking at her partners in crime once again. "First things first, we need to blend in."
Santana arched her eyebrow unhelpfully watching as Quinn walked over the wall and plucked a photo containing a teenaged boy with a ridiculous Mohawk off the wall. "What do kids in the 21st century even wear these days?"
.-.
A short while later, as they ran through the quiet town, the trio came across three girls leaving a large, grassy field, clad in strange clothing that Quinn assumed was a normal teenage girl outfit. The field itself was also strange. It had long white lines spanning the length and large numbers marked on the grass; there were two tall poles at either end, while the field was flanked with shiny metal benches that rose upwards.
Quinn assumed in was just some weird human thing and chose not to dwell on it much longer. Instead, they easily surrounded the girls who had initially paid them no mind. It wasn't until they were almost nose-to-nose with them that the girls even deigned to glance in their direction. She smirked at their insolence.
"Give us your clothes," Quinn demanded with a menacing growl.
One of the girls, obviously the leader like Quinn, gave her a pinched look and spoke, "Ew, no, you perv."
Quinn growled again and lurched forward, one hand grabbing the girl around her neck. "Give us your clothes, now."
The girl's eyes widened with fear. "O-okay. O-okay.," she stammered and just like that, the trio had swapped clothes with the girls, switching their traditional black silk gowns for a very short red skirt, and a red, black and white top.
"What does 'WMHS' mean?" Brittany asked naively.
Santana grabbed the head girl by the scruff of her dress and lifted her in the air. "Answer her, puta."
"W-william McKinley High School," she stammered out as the other two girls cowered. "They're our cheerleading uniforms…"
Santana rolled her eyes again. "They're in high school. Lame."
"Enough," Quinn barked, sneering at the girl and fixing her with an angry glare. "How do people get to 'N-Y-C' without a vehicle?"
"What? You mean a car?" The girl replied, cowering in fear. "The bus station, I guess."
Quinn nodded silently and commanded Santana to drop the girl. In a blink, the three new cheerleaders disappeared from sight, leaving the three frightened girls completely baffled as to what just happened. And if it weren't for the fact that they were no longer wearing their practice cheerleading uniforms, they might have been inclined to believe that it was all just some weird figment of their imagination.
.-.
A/N: Due to a lack of response, I can't really tell if people are actually enjoying this story so far. I really do hope you are. Please let me know! I'd love to hear your thoughts; good, bad, and in-between :) Thanks for reading!