Author Notes:
I actually had the majority of this chapter written at the same time as the last one. Certain parts of it kept confounding me though. I ended up rewriting a lot hence why it didn't come out sooner.
Thanks to everyone who left reviews or comments. I appreciate all of them, whether they're just support or contain some constructive criticism.
Responses to specific user reviews/comments:
Wbrendon89: That was definitely odd the way Samuel 'accidentally' photographed them, wasn't it.
Brody: Yeah, I started labelling this as an AU since people were confused (mostly as to why Chloe was "an OOC OP muscle girl"), but in many ways it's a continuation of the canon storyline, if the canon Max from the future realised if she stopped acting like she's mentally deficient, and instead make intelligent decisions, she might save everyone. There are definite differences (more antagonists), though you might suggest they were always present in the original story but just weren't revealed. There may be a few things that are less easy to brush over though.
Artemus19: That's really generous praise. Thank you.
SuomynonAX: It's Victoria's final decision: Sacrifice herself and Max or Sacrifice the remainder of Arcadia Bay's female population. ;)
MangekyoMasta510: Just as a warning, I'm not sure if there's enough information to work out all of the numbers yet. There's at least two beyond the Prescotts, their 'driver' and Jefferson that have been hinted at to varying degrees.
Guardian of Azarath: Victoria probably keeps her photos of Max stored digitally. And in spite of all the amusing Juliet stuff, it's supposed to be one sided. Chloe is dedicated to Max and Victoria in this.
GrumpyCat42: Thanks for your corrections. It's really appreciated.
Slydino: I get the idea that at the moment the characters are all into each other. Some of them might be aware that they're into each other. But they're kind of on egg shells trying to figure out the next step. Hence you have Chloe 'joking' about it, Max being awkward and Victoria frustrated. Sooner or later one of them is going to have to chance their arm. Any prediction on who you think will make the first big move?
Guest: Glad I could satiate your hunger. Or perhaps slake your thirst.
Alpenwolf: That's really gratifying to hear. I started writing this fanfic after being inspired by a bunch of other fics myself, so it's great if I help continue that cycle in some small way.
Onerustybucket: Chloe does call herself 'the key master' in the original game. I think we know what she holds the keys to. Though perhaps she doesn't have keys at all, and just picks their locks. Would that make her a fingersmith?
The door to the two whales diner swung open. Max entered first, holding the door for Victoria as she followed. Both girls had their camera bags with them: Max with her trusty, slim (and legit ancient) shoulder-slung carry bag. Victoria's was also shoulder-slung but far more bulky: her six thousand dollar DSLR camera, all its detachable lenses, and an oversized external flash took up a lot of room. It also contained the little gift Chloe had left her yesterday, secreted away in a normally empty side pocket. Chloe herself was conspicuous in her absence, having to return to the gas station to properly refuel her truck, and was probably going to be a few minutes late.
The diner was a timeless design, its white tiled walls and worn leather seating had been witness to decades of patrons. They'd have undoubtedly been witness to decades more, but for a certain local apocalypse scheduled for Friday. On Max's left, a long counter covered almost the entire length of the diner, providing bar-style seating, a position for the till, and finally a display case of shiny polished glass, tempting potential customers with various cakes and other sweet goods contained within. On Max's right were an array of window-side booths arranged along the diner's wall, offering a clear view out across the seaside main street and railway, and the bay beyond. A decrepit jukebox sat on the far wall, belting out a selection of music that was mostly too old for even Max's retro sensibilities. The diner held an eclectic mix of tourists, truck drivers, and locals, who for one reason or another had decided to trade currency to free themselves from the enormous burden of making their own breakfast. All blissfully ignorant of the impending catastrophe. Hopefully that would change soon.
Scanning behind the counter, Max quickly located Joyce Price, Chloe's Mother. She looked worked to her limit yet still in control, ferrying order after order around with an efficiency learned from years of monotony. Years of stress were beginning to take their toll: the faint outline of wrinkles were starting to show on her face. But Max still thought Joyce a wonderfully beautiful person. She was the diner's Matriarch, projecting a presence that demanded everyone's respect, and a practised sway in her hips that seemed to steal their attention. Her face lit up the moment she spotted Max by the entrance.
"Max! You and your friend grab a booth, I'll be with you in a moment."
Max watched intently as she rushed a coffee decanter around. Thinking that even if Chloe put on a bit of weight as she aged, she'd wear it magnificently. Her gaze rose back to eye-level, where it noticed Victoria scrutinising her with a combination of amusement and mock censure.
"Does Chloe need to be worried about anything, Max?"
Max felt her cheeks faintly flush. Caught sort-of checking out your best friend's Mother. Brilliant.
"No. It's just… Joyce is amazing, Victoria. She works so hard at this lame job, just to keep her family secure."
Max wasn't lying. She honestly believed every word of that. Joyce ruled. The only problem was it didn't really represent her thoughts at that instant. Not in their entirety anyway.
"That is incredibly commendable." Victoria nodded.
There was a moment of silence. Had she actually bought that?
"Nice ass too. Though you obviously don't need that pointed out. I hope I can claim to still be that hot when I'm her age."
Max hung her head. Nope. Completely busted.
The pair began to make their way to the window-side booth Joyce had indicated, located at the far end of the diner near the old jukebox. On the way, Max found her gaze returning to Joyce. This time, she made a conscious effort to keep to a respectable eye level. In doing so, she suddenly became aware of the dark rings surrounding Joyce's eyes. Semi-concealed by make-up and nowhere near as bad as Kate's, they nevertheless spoke of some sort of insomnia. Max could guess the cause: Chloe's future, and David Madsen's issues. Joyce had a lot to worry about.
She watched Joyce as she just kept on going, showing none of the exhaustion she must have felt, and wished she could somehow take all her stress away. Wave her hand and fix everything. Max sighed; even her power over time wasn't that comprehensive. At least the customers seemed polite today. In fact, the one she was serving, a rather tall lady with long auburn hair seated closest to the cash register, seemed positively effusive with praise. Especially for just getting her coffee mug topped up.
"Oh that's ever so generous a refill, and terribly needed. Last night's shift was so very distressing, and demanding, Mrs Price." She complained. Joyce seemed happy enough to listen, and not just because her customer was almost as generous with tips as with words. Besides the poor woman looked even more exhausted than Joyce, if her face was anything to go by. It displayed no expression at all, as if it had already gone to sleep. "It can be simply awful working for a man like Sean Prescott."
Joyce broke from nodding, and winced in sympathy as her customer reached for a handful of complementary sugar satchels: a series of dark purple bruises ran along her knuckle line. "Oh goodness." The customer began, after noticing Joyce staring. "I was so warn down last night driving the limousine that I got a little careless and slammed something in the car door." That sounded awful. Still she didn't seem to feel any pain from the bruising, shamelessly pouring the content of three sugar satchels into her coffee mug without a care.
The hair on the back of Victoria's neck instantly turned to needles. There was nothing too suspicious about working for Sean Prescott, almost half the town did. The man owned a large portion of the local fishery licence, many of the farms and businesses in the area, even a couple of plantation forests. But not everyone who worked for him had that terribly familiar voice; a posh sounding English accent that was devoid of true emotion, regardless of how expressive a vocabulary she had used. Nor did all of his employees identify themselves as his personal limousine chauffeur. Victoria snatched Max by the hand, quickly dragging her over to the free booth Joyce had indicated. There was a look of ill disguised shock on her face as she gestured to the lady in question.
"The Prescott's hatchet-woman!" She hissed.
Max glared at the woman Victoria had indicated, sitting at the counter and seemingly oblivious to their presence. Grey was focused on slowly demolishing her breakfast, a large plate of macaroni and cheese. She occasionally paused from her breakfast to exchange banter with Joyce, and to shoot the occasional longing gaze at the collection of cakes across from her in the display case. She looked radically different with her hair loose and unkempt, rather than done up in a bun. Her generic jeans and plain t-shirt seemed boring as anything, below even Max's usual state of fashion, and a world away from that impeccably turned out chauffeur's uniform. Her voice was unmistakeable though, definitely the woman they'd seen with Sean Prescott yesterday. Pleasant words delivered with a posh English accent that had the warmth of a glacier. Max gulped. Looking at her from a distance last night, she hadn't realised quite how tall she was.
"Don't stare at her!" Victoria warned; her heart was pumping like a freight train and tiny beads of sweat began breaking out on her forehead. "Don't do anything that'll get her attention."
Victoria checked that no one was watching, then cautiously unzipped the side pocket of her camera bag. Her hand shook as she reached into the normally empty compartment, where she'd stashed the revolver. She had to check, just to make sure it was there. Just in case. Her fingers wrapped around the gun's grip. Holding it didn't reassure her. Rather, she felt paralysed with indecision, like she had unwittingly stepped up to the edge of a precipice, a single footfall from doom. She found herself freezing up, glad she was no longer standing as the blood felt like it had drained from her legs, while across the room the person sent to kill them sat at the counter, sipping her coffee without a care in the world.
Her hands shook as her mind repeated it over and over: the person sent to kill you is sitting just across the room. She remembered the odd occasion while visiting Nathan, when she'd ridden in their chauffeured car. Even then, Grey had made her feel uneasy. She was quiet, with that perpetually blank, tired expression. Except once, when Sean Prescott had pulled her to one side to discuss 'overtime work'. On that one occasion, the long thin line of her lips had the slightest upward tick at the end, like a hook.
A sudden tickle ran over Victoria's hand; a brush of fingertips kissing skin, accompanied with the slightest tingle of static build-up. It soothed and relaxed and excited all at once. It made her feel almost safe, in spite of a killer sitting ten yards away. She looked up and saw Max's earnest, worried face leaning over their booth table, so very close to her. Victoria relaxed her grasp on the gun and after a moment's hesitation, she interlocked her fingers with Max's. She was instantly struck with an irrational desire to start counting her freckles again, but bravely saw it off.
"Do you think she's a danger right now?" Max quietly asked, gently shifting their hands away from the camera bag, the gun, and letting them rest on the table, fingers still intermingled. "I can always get us out of here with my power if you really think she's going to try something."
The touch of Max's hand and sound of her voice were the antithesis of the gun she'd grasped, calming her rather than further agitating. Ironic, since the power within Max's hand was greater than any firearm. Victoria found this relief fleeting, soon displaced by annoyance at her own stupidity. There were too many witnesses in the diner for Ms Grey to try anything. There was even a uniformed policeman enjoying breakfast a few seats away, while his partner waited in the patrol car outside!
"No." Victoria finally whispered. "No, it's fine." Her one final spike of nervousness was defeated after confirming Joyce maintained constant custody of the coffee pot. There was no chance of getting poisoned either. "This is too public, there's too many people here for her to try anything." She conceded.
She wondered if Max had already figured out as much. Had she realised that Grey wouldn't risk anything in front of so many witnesses? And if so, was she holding off directly spelling it out to let Victoria salvage some dignity? Were their positions reversed, Victoria would have delighted in savagely critiquing a friend's foolishness. But Max was so much kinder than her. From her doe eyes to the fragile little hands warming hers. Max was a kind, generous person. And also somehow able to invade and dominate her mind. Victoria felt like she could almost block out the existence of the Prescott's hired gun, as long as she had Max near her. Not completely though; her ears pricked as she heard Grey rip the top off yet another sugar satchel.
"What the hell is she doing in the diner, anyway?" Victoria asked, having gotten her thoughts about Max under control. Mostly. She'd never be completely free of them while they'd joined hands, but just couldn't bring herself to let go.
"Eating breakfast apparently." Max replied. They both flinched at a sudden scream of metal grazing the ceramic plate below, as Grey stabbed an innocent piece of macaroni with her fork. Max shrugged. "Even murderers eat breakfast."
Victoria chanced another glance at Grey. She definitely looked like she was innocently enjoying breakfast, completely oblivious to their presence. But that's exactly the front a good hit-person would want to portray, wasn't it?
"Ah, there they are. Two lovely young ladies."
The sound of Joyce's voice and the sight of her approach had an immediate affect on the girls. The pair's hands, which had been so warm and comfortable and calmingly intermingled, immediately flew apart. They returned to their respective sides of the table in the blink of an eye, in a manner Max felt not unlike an automatically retracting power cord found in many vacuum cleaner models. She chided herself for her cowardice. There was nothing wrong with two people holding hands, was there?
"Hi Joyce." She quickly replied. "You still look just like you did five years ago."
"You mean still stuck in the same dead-end job?" Joyce asked sardonically.
Both Victoria and Max spoke at the same instant.
"She meant you're still pretty."
"I meant you're still pretty."
"Nice save girls, especially in stereo. So, you must be Max's new friend... Victoria?"
Victoria had met Joyce previously, of course; in a town as small as Arcadia Bay, it was almost inevitable for someone to have patronised the town's seaside (and only) diner. Victoria recalled she had visited a number of times with Taylor and Courtney in tow, and probably behaved in a more than slightly aloof and entitled manner, perhaps even rude. Add to that the drama with the joint at the Price household yesterday, and she'd undoubtedly made a poor first impression. The slight frown and dubious tone Joyce used was proof of that, especially since she'd been almost doting on Max moments earlier. Victoria decided to front-foot the whole issue and try to make amends.
"Victoria Chase." She confirmed. "And I'm so sorry about yesterday."
Joyce sighed.
"I understand it's only natural for people on the cusp of adulthood to push boundaries, and experiment a little. But you have to understand David's position. His job at Blackwell is literally to be the Mr Clean nobody likes. Having any drugs, even a doobie reported in his residence could cost him his job."
"I know. It was incredibly insensitive of me. I know it's not an excuse, but I was just so totally anxious. Max and I had witnessed a good friend of mine suddenly going crazy. He'd taken much more than 'a doobie', and was even waving a gun around talking to himself at one stage. We tried to quietly warn the Principal, but this guy, Nathan, he found out it was us. He came after us and..."
Victoria paused. When she'd started speaking, she'd intended to ham it up a little. Really oversell the danger she'd been in and how lucky she was to have Chloe intervene. She'd definitely started that way. When she got to the part about Nathan, she found she didn't need to. Choking over that memory came naturally to her. Something of that must have shown through, as Joyce's sceptical gaze softened, and she looked at her with genuine concern.
"I was so lucky there was someone there to save me. Chloe rushed in and um..."
"She was her usual self?" Joyce asked, her voice thick with sarcasm. "How many windows got broken this time?"
"Just the one." Max added helpfully.
"What?" Joyce hung her head. "Oh Chloe. And here I was thinking I'd just exaggerated for effect."
"I'll personally pay for any property damage, it's the least I can do." Victoria generously offered. "Though I don't think it'll come to that. The school will want to keep this as quiet as possible, they'll probably reimburse the damaged party themselves behind closed doors."
Not to mention, if Max, Chloe, and Victoria had their way, the "damaged party" would end up in jail by the end of the week.
"So anyway," Joyce began, finding herself wanting to change the subject. She didn't like the idea of a school girl, even a ridiculously wealthy one like Victoria, paying damages for Chloe. At the same time, she worried about how paying the repair bill herself would stretch the already tight Price family budget. "What are you girls having?"
"I think I'll have the Belgian Waffle-" Max began.
"Bacon omelet for Max." Victoria abruptly cut her off. Max was about to protest, but Victoria was having none of it.
"Max, you know you have certain issues that have been giving you dizzy spells and blood noses. You clearly need an increased protein and iron intake!"
Well that did kind of make sense. But the Belgian Waffles looked so good.
"And you Victoria?"
"The Bel-"
"She'll have the bacon omelet too." Max returned the favour, taking some solace in managing to deprive Victoria of her chance for waffles as well. "You fainted yesterday and have been looking pale a few time since. It's clear you need protein and iron too."
"So cute the way you two bicker and worry about each other's nutrition. Like an old married couple." Joyce observed, leaving both Max and Victoria profoundly disturbed.
"Chloe will be around in a few minutes. Should we order for her too? " Max asked, while trying to digest the idea of becoming Victoria's wife. Then again, she'd already pushed her into the Vortex club. What was next, having to wear Cashmere sweaters and skirts concealing kinky underwear?
"She always has a large serving of eggs and bacon, when she can generate enough sympathy to get a free breakfast. Weekdays in other words."
"How-" Victoria began, before giving up. The implausibility of Chloe's figure: those long arms, dense with muscle, broad shoulders leading to a lean defined core. Slender yet powerful legs. All of it somehow being sustained on plates of greasy, fatty bacon, day after day. It felt stupid enough to give her a migraine, if not a seizure. She resigned herself to the idea that some things in the universe just didn't make sense; other things, like the differences between peoples' metabolism, just weren't fair.
"Joyce, that lady you were just talking to, at the counter..." Max began cautiously.
"Hm? Oh you mean Daphne."
Bemused glances shot between Victoria and Max. Somehow "Daphne" didn't seem like the appropriate name for a murderer. Then again, names did tend to get assigned before a person decided on their vocation.
"Daphne Grey, quite the character. Apparently Sean Prescott makes her work night shifts when he doesn't need a driver, doing various odd jobs, 'cleaning up after him' or some such. She occasionally staggers in here afterwards, always looking and sounding exhausted. Almost like she's haunted."
Haunted might not have been too far off the mark. She probably had seen more than a few dead people.
"Very polite though. She was just telling me how worried she was about that daughter of mine. Wondering if she was still hanging around the same crowd or had gotten any new friends. I mentioned that there were a couple I hoped would be a good influence on her."
Max and Victoria slinked back into their seats. It was bad enough that Joyce was trying to guilt them into being a good influence on Chloe, but it also sounded like Grey had been pumping her for information about them.
At that moment, the doors swung open, and Chloe Price walked in. She'd exchanged her Rachel Amber sized jeans shorts for her own pair of snugger fitting long jeans. Similarly, her trademark worn leather jacket was back. Max sighed. She could never get enough of Chloe's attitude, the air of confidence she projected. She was cool kept warm in a beanie.
Victoria fought off a growing urge to follow suit, and began composing a text message. Chloe needed to be warned about Daphne Grey's presence, or she might walk right into her.
"I still can't believe you swiped her from me, man." Justin droned, his voice slowed and slurred by self medication. His eyes were bloodshot and half-closed, forming narrow slits, and he was wearing the dumbest grin imaginable, which seemed to stand in stark contrast to his apparent pining over a lost chance at love.
"Don't go back on a deal. I got you baked as hell this morning to say sorry, the best green Frank had, his firebud." Justin's friend Trevor shot back. The pair were occupying the booth closest to the exit to the two whales diner, where they were considering what to order for breakfast. "At least it better be better than the 'mid-shelf' stuff he normally hawks. He charged more than twice as much for it. Then you were dumb enough to take that 'shroom dust as well. You're real lucky I was there to drive you."
"Because I'd be a risk driving myself?" Justin asked.
"Because you couldn't find the car's ignition yourself." Trevor replied.
"Oh that's right." Justin's mouth slowly tried to work its way into a smile, before his brain finally realised he already was smiling. Still, he was feeling a little short changed by the ground psilocybin mushroom. Aside from the odd halo around the lights, he wasn't really hallucinating that much as of yet.
"Yer such a good friend." He continued, dreamily. "And you basically struck out, so it was a good deal too. Why aren't we eating anything yet?"
"I didn't strike out. The Blackwell guards caught us and I got thrown out. Though that does make things awkward. And we aren't eating because we haven't ordered. Because you've been staring at the menu's cover for the past ten minutes."
Justin's eyes slowly tracked down to the menu, still in his hands, still unopened.
"I can't help it man. Its got whales on it. Two of them. And just below it the title says 'Two Whales' diner. It's so deep and meaningful." His mind idled for an indeterminate period, before remembering the first part to Trevor's last reply. "Shouldn't you call her up? Since you stole her from me."
"At times like these women need a moment, and don't like to be hounded." Trevor replied sagely. "Shit was awkward enough for me, bunch of maglites and moustaches suddenly up in my face, then getting dragged out of the girl's dorm by the collar. They read you the riot act on the way back to the boys dorm, you know. How there's at least three separate school regulations they can have you suspended for breaking. Then one of them slaps a pamphlet in your hands entitled 'being responsible' on the way out. How do you think it's affecting her?"
"I don't know man, I don't think they do any of that to the girl in that situation though. It was in the girl's dorm, so she had a right to be there. Besides, Dana's got a pretty mature attitude. She'd probably appreciate a call. It's not like you'd be bothering her ten times in the space of a few hours like some weirdo stalker." Justin replied, in what was probably the first astute thing he'd said since he'd wound the windows in their car up and set the air intake to recirculate.
Suddenly, Trevor saw the Diner's main door swing open. Cool incarnate strode in, clad in her trademark worn leather jacket and beanie.
"It's Price." Trevor announced, a slight smirk suddenly spreading across his face. "I think I remember someone calling her a poser yesterday. Think she's heard about that and come to make them 'pay the Price'?"
"Don't joke about that man. It's not funny." Justin retorted, staring blankly.
"No honestly she's right behind you."
"If you think I'm going to fall for that-"
Justin's slurred speech was cut off as Chloe's fist breezed past his nose, on its way to fist bump Trevor's. The mushroom he'd taken finally seemed to be taking effect in earnest: her fist's passage, and in fact every move Chloe made seemed to leave a rainbow wake in the air. Justin watched entranced, as her fist recoiled back into its starting position, this time lining him up. He stared at it, momentarily caught between wondering how many teeth he was going to lose, and the fascinating discovery that Chloe Price wore blue nail polish that matched her hair colour. Another profound wonder of the universe revealed.
"What, no love?" Chloe replied, slightly insulted.
Justin finally realised what was expected of him. He brought his own fist up to reciprocate the greeting, extended it, and very slowly, carefully brought it to Chloe's, much to her amusement.
"Damn Justin, the way you're baked you could stick candles in your nose, and people would sing happy birthday."
"W-what are you doing here?" Justin asked, grateful that the lethargic fog his brain was trapped in was partially concealing the worry he felt.
"Her Mom works here, man, relax."
"You mean Joyce? Shit, you mean I've been checking out The Price's Mom this whole time?"
Chloe grit her teeth behind a closed mouth, but decided it was in everyone's interest if she pretended she hadn't heard that. Justin and Trevor were good people on the whole, but they were occasionally subject to bouts of grossness. Not at all like her Max.
"Anyway I've got a public service announcement for you. Hella fine cheerleader seeks unworthy skater. Ability to perform a treflip not necessary. She's been waiting for a call all morning."
"Damn, really?" Justin asked, eagerly groping for his phone. Trevor flicked his hat off triggering a slurred utterance of "don't slap me, bitch."
"It's a message for me, foetus." Trevor shot back.
A vibration in her jacket pocket informed Chloe that she'd just received a text message. She reached into her pocket for her phone while starting to back away from the table.
Justin, meanwhile, zoned out again for a moment. He couldn't really help it. The whole rainbow radiation thing that seemed to kick in whenever Chloe started moving was pretty overwhelming. Strangely enough, it seemed unique to Chloe; none of the other diner patrons were leaking the entire visible spectra. Then for a second, his eyes were drawn to her necklace. He turned back to Trevor, eager to share another moment of clarity.
"Holy shit I just realised something. Price has three bullets on her necklace. Do you think that means something too? Like some deep, cosmic message about her fate or the state of the universe?" He asked, face full of wonder.
Trevor rolled his eyes.
"I think it means I need to buy some firebud and 'shrooms for myself." He replied, trying to keep his nerves under control as he dialled Dana Ward's number.
Stepping back from her chat with Trevor and Justin, Chloe's attention was completely consumed with checking the message she'd just received. A sudden blur of motion caught in her peripheral vision. She realised quickly, but all too late, that she'd stepped into someone's path and was about to collide with them. As was the case in the Blackwell staircase, an attractive lady quickly ended up in a pair of exceptionally strong arms. However this time it was Chloe who ended up being held, and not gently. She felt a shot of pain, as she was unceremoniously grasped along her upper arms by what felt like two pairs of metal jaws. Whoever this person was, they had an exceptionally strong grip, and no qualms about unleashing it unchecked. She immediately looked straight at her assailant. The first thing she noticed were a pair of female lips, with pale, understated lipstick applied. Normally a sight Chloe might not find so objectionable. The fact that they were above her eye level was more than a little alarming. Not only was this lady ridiculously strong, but she had at least half a foot of height on her. She felt the blood drain from her face and her heart began thumping like a jackhammer; Chloe suddenly had a pretty good idea of who she'd just stumbled into. She tilted her head further upward, and her fears were confirmed: she was greeted by a cold, blank stare, framed by auburn hair and a face that was almost expressionless. Expressionless except for those long thin lips, the corners of which formed a slightly upturned smile.
"Mrs Price, this is your daughter isn't it." The woman suddenly called out across the diner, her grip somehow getting even tighter. Joyce looked up momentarily from the coffee mug she'd been filling, to answer in the affirmative, completely oblivious to anything untoward in progress. Max and Victoria looked on in shock. Chloe Price had just quite literally run into Daphne Grey.
"Goodness, what a roguishly handsome one. She reminds me of myself, when I was fourteen. Well I must be off. You never know what life has in store for you around the corner, so you have to always enjoy the present, and all those other silly platitudes."
Chloe stared blankly, as Grey released her and walked nonchalantly out the door. She'd just had a run-in with the Prescott's assassin. Fuck. She'd been strong and fast and bigger than her too. She felt like a different kind of danger to Nathan. He'd been an out of control idiot, irrational and therefore difficult to predict, but no match for her in a straight-up fight. This Grey woman was the opposite. In control and prepared to bide her time, and probably far more capable when she finally chose her moment to act.
A second later Chloe snapped back to the outside world, greeted by the jukebox changing track to some country number she found exceptionally grating, along with Joyce exclaiming that "if Daphne used to be just like Chloe, that must have been one hell of a finishing school."
Chloe looked down at the phone still in her hand. She belatedly checked it for the message she'd been distracted by.
Victoria: Watch out, the Prescott's pet psycho bitch is in the diner.
Double fuck.
She looked up again. Max and Victoria had rushed to her side, concern etched across their faces. To be fair, you could engender concern from Max by doing almost anything, but it was always welcome. Victoria, on the other hand was far harder to get sympathy from. It felt kind of nice to have both of them worry about her.
"You just ran into the Prescott's hired killer." Victoria exclaimed.
"Oh really, I hadn't noticed." Chloe grumbled. A dull ache pervaded her arms, though it felt nowhere near as bad as the idea she'd been taken by surprise and basically been at Grey's mercy. Her mind was filled with the myriad of ways Grey could have killed or incapacitated her in that moment, had the assassin not cared about making a scene. She pulled her left arm out of its jacket sleeve, and pulled back her t-shirt sleeve to inspect the damage. The beginnings of a series of deep purple bruises were present, marking the points at which Grey's fingers had sunk into her. She really did have a hella strong grip.
"Oh my dog Chloe, Did she do that just by grabbing you? It didn't look like she was doing anything."
"Evil Mary Poppins had a grip like a fucking crab." Chloe replied bitterly, flexing her arm a bit. It didn't really relieve the pain, but it did cause Max's eyes to be uncontrollably drawn for just an instant every time she pumped her bicep, and that somehow made her feel a little better.
"Should I wipe the whole incident from time?" Max asked.
"I don't see that it would do much good." Victoria said. "All that happened is she grabbed Chloe and felt her big muscles. But everyone knows that Chloe's brutish enough to terrorise the school's football team, so she didn't really learn anything new."
"Only two of the football team", Chloe replied defensively, "and one at a time." As if that didn't already border on the absurd. The first, of course, had been that punt returner who'd tried to drug Taylor's drink. Probably the smallest guy on the team. The second had been one of the big linesmen who'd taken exception to 'some girl' throwing his teammate through a window into a rosebush, and confronted Chloe during a bus ride. There had been a sign on the bus's emergency exit declaring 'in emergency, break glass and exit vehicle here'. His fate was sealed the moment Chloe had read that, and she was now unofficially banned from public transport in Arcadia Bay. Combined, the two incidents had spawned the local legend known as "The Price".
Shaking her head at Chloe's recollection of her past exploits, Victoria turned to glance at Grey's vacated seat. Joyce, ever on the move, was in the process of removing the dirty dishes, and wiping the bench down for the next customer. She turned to look at the display case further down the counter, and saw her reflection in the impeccably cleaned and glossy glass surface, alongside Max and Chloe's. On a whim she walked over to study the reflections more closely, and decided her make-up could use a touch up: she hadn't done a very good job embellishing her short and slightly pursed looking lips this morning. Normally it wouldn't be such a problem, but she was accompanying Max and her perfect voluminous pair, that were always grabbing attention with the way they oscillated between earnest worry and awkward smiles. If she didn't fix herself up, the contrast Max provided would be incredibly unkind to her. Worse, she felt, than that between her own Mercedes and Chloe's ridiculous truck.
The thought of Max's lips drew Victoria's attention to reflections of Max and Chloe, also showing in the glass. Absent-mindedly, she ran her hand down the side of the case, over their reflections. She looked back at her own reflection and noticed it was smiling. She didn't often smile. She'd smirk at something she found amusing, usually another's misfortune. Then again, she hadn't really had friends like either Max or Chloe before. She'd had suckups, most of whom wanted to ingratiate themselves to her to further their own social position. Taylor was probably the only exception, a completely sincere lapdog. Someone who'd write "I am a slave" on the whiteboard outside her dorm room because Victoria told her to. In hindsight she felt almost bad about that: Max's sense of earnest morality must have been rubbing off on her.
She checked her own phone. Two messages from Taylor. Both expressing concern for her. Damn Max and her contagious morality.
Sweet-T: Must have missed you this morning. Shoot me a reply telling me you're all right. After your room got wrecked, I feel totally paranoid. If I don't hear from you soon, you'll see missing posters of yourself up alongside Rachel's.
Sweet-T: Victoria, you wouldn't believe how that evil backstabber Courtney's been acting. She's basically trying to out-you you. You should have seen her face when I told her it was totally derivative. Um, you aren't locked up in some weirdo's basement are you? Just checking.
Feeling a little guilty, Victoria quickly typed out a response.
Victoria: Sorry Sweet-T, early start to the day. I've found someone who can give me a few extra tips on self defence. Since that fucking lunatic broke into my room, it pays to be prepared.
Strictly speaking, she was being quite truthful, though she didn't want to elaborate further considering Taylor's tendency to gossip. Both the fact that the town's resident delinquent was the one teaching her, and that the defence practice was going to involve guns, were not details fit for the school's general consumption.
She looked again at their reflections in the booth. Actually, come to think of it, a fair portion of the front of the diner was visible, reflected in the glass. The magnificent view of the bay outside the diner windows. And the booths along side them. She suddenly turned cold, a thought occurring to her. She stepped back to Grey's seat and looked straight at the display case. The reflection of the booth they'd occupied was still clearly visible from the new angle, and she'd seen Grey frequently turning slightly to look at it.
"That bitch was watching us. Watching our reflections the whole time."
Max quickly wandered over. Chloe belatedly joined her, dragging her feet, still upset with being caught unaware. It was true. From Grey's seat, someone could turn and pretend to be perusing the cake selection, or just glance sideways without moving her head at all, and she'd have a slightly distorted but still fairly clear view of them sitting at the booth.
"I definitely shouldn't rewind time then. She might notice us suddenly change position and start to realise one of us has weird powers. The truth is so weird I doubt anyone would completely figure it out, but we don't want them having even a clue about my power."
"To be honest we've been incredibly lucky so far." Victoria added. "Nobody's really been around or paying attention when Max pulls out her time magic. Or if they do see something out of the corner of their eye, they'll probably assume their mind's playing tricks on them. But unless we're careful, someone's going to be looking straight at her and notice eventually."
"Twice."
"What was that Chloe?"
"It's just- Nothing. Fuck, that music's pissing me off."
She began walking with singular intent toward the jukebox.
"Careful." Victoria warned, starting to walk back to their booth. She didn't intend to leave her prized camera unattended any longer than needed. "The last time I tried to play a song on that relic, it ate my money."
"It's OK lady V, I got this. You've just got to have a the right touch. Treat it like a lady."
Victoria watched sceptically as she slid back into her seat. Max joined her, taking her old position opposite. Chloe's voice still carried a gruff undertone, deeply annoyed with herself. It was difficult to imagine her doing anything with finesse while in that state. On the other hand Chloe was apparently in here almost every morning, mooching a free breakfast. Perhaps she'd learnt some elegant sleight of hand to force the jukebox's cooperation. The pair watched as Chloe took her hand, and gently, sensuously, ran it along the curve of the Jukebox. For some reason both Max and Victoria felt their lips quiver slightly when she did so. Then Chloe punched the coin slot hard with her fist, which had a somewhat negative impact of their jaw rigidity. Like most things in the universe, The jukebox quickly surrendered to Chloe's overwhelming strength, and the closest thing it had to punk rock immediately began playing.
"What sort of lady did you treat like that!"
"The one that just grabbed me, or the one who gave me this fucking parking citation." Chloe replied, slapping a ticket on the diner table. "My truck actually breaks down and they still issue one. Gestapo."
Apparently Chloe held parking attendants and murderers with equal contempt. She probably wasn't alone in that though.
"Whatever. I need to visit the privy and check my make-up. You two watch my camera. Remember it's worth more than your truck."
"Yes Sir!" Chloe replied, mock saluting.
Chloe slid into the same side of their booth as Max, facing the diner's entrance. If that psycho woman came back, she'd at least see her coming this time, and be ready. Plus she was sitting alongside Max, so two birds with one stone. She found herself drumming her feet against the floor: the sudden appearance of that bitch, and the fact she'd gotten so close to her, actually put her hands on her and caught her, had really wound her up. Not to the same extent as Nathan, there'd been no gun rammed in her gut. But she still had too much pent-up energy. Her fight-or-flight response had been triggered and she was ready to do something. Clobber the stuffing out of someone! Maybe throw them through a window, or just run for it! Maybe even sink into the warm embrace the girl next to her was offering. Wait, what was that last option?
Max didn't even give Chloe the time to make what should have been an incredibly easy choice, instead almost pulling her out of her seat. They were drawn against each other, and Max felt the thump of Chloe's heart hammering out an expeditious beat. Max held her tighter, wanting to reassure and calm her. She found herself partially successful: Chloe definitely seemed a lot happier, and less ready to punch the jukebox again. But her heart rate still seemed a bit fast. Then again so did Max's. That particular problem didn't start to remedy until they broke apart.
"So, want to tell me what this 'twice' stuff was about?" Max finally asked.
"It's just, I've been taken by surprise twice this week. First was Nathan, and I nearly got killed. I would have been killed except for your mad power. You'd think I'd have learnt a lesson after that. Nope. I literally walk into someone even more dangerous, and get saved only by the fact they don't want witnesses. Though it's more like three times now. You just managed to ambush me as well."
"Thanks for grouping me in with a couple of psychos." Max mock complained.
"Well no, I guess I didn't mind when you spontaneously did it. Just a little surprising. Maybe you should lunge at me more so I get used to it!"
Max repressed a strong urge to take Chloe up on that suggestion, feeling words might be better in the long term.
"Chloe, did you feel safe when you walked into the diner?"
"Yeah. Of course. It's where my Mom works, and I've been in here every day. I don't expect female Hannibal Lector to be sitting at the counter, chatting with my Mom while she pours her a fucking coffee."
"That's one way of looking at it. The other one is that your instincts were actually good, that you were safe in here. There were too many witnesses in here, so the evil lady couldn't try anything beyond being a bit rough when she caught you, and probably only did that much because you backed into her path at the last instant. Everything worked out fine and we didn't need to rewind time."
"Well that's um. Yeah I suppose. Still wish I'd noticed her though. I always wanted to be your bodyguard, Max. But I can't even spot a known threat."
That was a common thread of the imaginary adventures they had in their childhood. Max was some intrepid newspaper photographer, prepared to go where no one else dared to get the shot – a gang headquarters, a drug cartel mansion, a war zone, even a political convention. And Chloe was always there to keep her safe. It was amazing how Chloe had clinged to that idea into adulthood. In fact, the way her body was, it was almost like she'd trained herself to achieve it.
"Believe it or not, I just had a similar chat with Tori. She walked right past her, and only noticed when that "practically perfect in every way" voice started praising the diner's coffee refill policy. Hold on, look, Grey's leaving now."
Max pointed to the exit of the two whale's carpark through the diner window. A white sedan was pulling out, a tall figure with auburn hair in the driver's seat.
"Registration TDOTJKL". Chloe replied, squinting at the license plates as the car drove off down the main road.
"We actually came out better than she did. She still doesn't know we're on to her, while we know what she looks like when she isn't dressed as some chauffeur, and we know what her personal car looks like. And I don't think Daphne Grey is really a Hannibal Lector. Not independent enough, and she doesn't eat her victims for breakfast."
"What does she eat then?" Chloe asked.
Max shrugged her shoulders.
"Macaroni and cheese, apparently."
Chloe slumped back into her seat, finally starting to relax. She stretched her left arm along the top of the seat back, behind Max, and left it draped there, in a familiar and mildly possessive manner. Her face resurrected her trademark impish expression. The one she brought out when she was about to do or say something a bit ridiculous. Max braced herself, unsure of what was about to follow.
"So Max," she began, leaning a little close and grinning from ear to ear. "You and Kate seemed really close. When she was in trouble, you were the one she asked for. You're not secretly some sort of player are you? I hope you don't toy with my pure and fragile heart, then leave me for her or Victoria."
Whatever Max might have been expecting Chloe to come up with, this wasn't it. Her mouth hung open for a moment though no voice emerged, as she tried to both formulate a response and work out where Chloe was going with this line of questioning. She achieved the former but not the latter.
"Chloe, Kate is a girl with strong religious background, who runs the local abstinence support group. The only thing anyone's likely to play with her is ludo. And didn't you start joking about marrying both of us in the car?"
"Yeah. OK. Maybe. But ignoring all that for a moment, and considering only Kate and Victoria, which of them would you… you know."
Max reached for her coffee. With the direction Chloe was probing she found herself wishing it was of an Irish variety.
"I mean Kate's got that quiet elegance..." Chloe nonchalantly noted, as Max took a particularly large sip from her mug.
"...But I bet Victoria fucks like a tiger."
Max nearly spat her coffee all over the table, but contented herself on choking on it for a minute.
"You're unbelievable." She finally yelled, as a smile invaded her face. "Though remember how much trouble we got into playing that fan translation of 'Tales of Phantasia'."
"Your Dad is such a tightass, Max. He walked in just as that one line happened to be on the screen and demanded we delete the game."
"We were just lucky that yours was such a pushover, or we'd never have defeated Dahos."
And then Max's smile seemed to vaporise, as she noticed Chloe's forlorn look the moment she brought up William.
"Oh god Chloe, I'm so sorry."
"It's OK Max. It's been, what, five whole years. It's not like the memory of what happened has completely dominated my life since then."
The ensuing silence was deafening, and Max was sorely tempted to use her power. They'd only been reunited a day, but Chloe felt so important to her, she couldn't handle seeing her hurt. She'd been so awkward and insensitive that she'd dredged up possibly the one thing that could bring "The Price" down, and laid it at her feet. The memory of her father. And she'd done so while smiling. She decided to leave her time power as a fall-back option, instead trying to resurrect her courage and carry on.
"In hindsight", she began, a little shaky. "We probably shouldn't have left the line 'Arche fucks like a tiger' on the screen for ten whole minutes, while staring in awe."
"Yeah." Chloe replied, willing some of her own smile to return. "Yeah, but it was kind of an amazing experience. To be that young, and see that word used in that context, rather than just as an insult."
Chloe sighed, looking back at her trusty first mate. If you knew Max, it was ridiculously easy to tell how she was feeling. Her face was incredibly expressive. It had instantly broken out in earnest worry when she'd first upset Chloe. Now that expression was melting back into a smile. Chloe realised the reason: she was no longer willing her own smile on her face. It was there of its own accord.
"Mint has that quiet elegance, but I bet Arche fucks like a tiger!" Chloe pronounced again, just a little too loudly, drawing a few awkward glares from the nearby patrons, and driving one Mother two booths down from them to cover her young son's ears. "How could we not stop to appreciate that!"
"I'm just confused about one thing though." Max almost whispered, hoping her own lack of volume would rein in Chloe's. "If Victoria is, um, 'like a tiger', where exactly do you fit in this scale. Some sort of Jackhammer or other industrial grade machine? Because if you peg Victoria at 'tiger', I don't think you could be anything natural".
"In other words you think I'm a literal sex machine, Max? I'm flattered." Chloe grinned. "But what makes you think I'm not a pillow princess? Lying sweetly on my back, my beautiful innocent face staring up, overwhelmed, as you work your magic on my meek helpless form and carry me to heaven."
Chloe actually felt a little hurt when Max started outright laughing. Yes she was a bit muscley, but surely her trusty First Mate knew she had the heart of a maiden?
"Sorry, you lost me at innocent. Meek and helpless was a step too far. So far you've pretty much seduced the Quarterback's girlfriend, then actually sent him a picture of her enraptured in your arms. And you were flirting shamelessly with the head cheerleader this morning. And that's in the space of under 24 hours since I first saw you."
OK fine, admittedly Chloe had some game, and experience. But she'd said she had the heart of a maiden, not a body part that was permanently affected by love's physical expression. Besides the stuff with Juliet was for a very good cause. It (somehow) saved her relationship with Zachery. Come to think of it, she'd saved (or at least assisted) the nascent relationship between Dana and Trevor moments ago. Perhaps Juliet's little piece of creative writing wasn't completely wrong when it suggested she was 'Cupid in combat boots'.
"And I think we already established it would take both Victoria and myself to carry you through a doorway, let alone 'to heaven'." That brought another grin.
"Just being back with you is pretty close to heaven, Max. And just between the two of us, I kind-of do feel a little meek when I'm around you."
"Because of my powers?" Max asked.
"Because of your smile." Chloe answered. And her delivery was so smooth Max didn't even elbow her in the ribs this time.
Victoria Chase returned from the rest room with a scowl affixed to her lips, having found two new things to be annoyed about. She'd noticed the first thing on trying to check her make-up: Some idiot had defaced the bathroom mirror, scratching an entirely nonsensical "Twin Peaks" reference into it. The second thing related to social media and a certain head cheerleader with, in Victoria's opinion, a penchant for clothing choices that bordered on indecent exposure. She marched out of the bathroom, grinding her teeth and radiating anger. She readied herself to spew a litany of complaints at Max and Chloe. They were her new friends now. Part of the deal in that was listening to her observations on the world's stupidity, and Victoria was an extremely observant person in that regard.
"Max, Chloe. You wouldn't believe-"
Her words caught in her throat as she noticed a strange mood between her companions. There was a pervading feeling between Max and Chloe that spanned melancholy, nostalgia and intimacy. Each staring wistfully at the other. She'd seen Max occasionally go like this in class, though she'd never seen her manage to entrap someone else in her spell before. It was actually rather intriguing. She quietly reached for her bag, extracted her oversized camera, and destructively captured it with a click. Well, fair was fair; Max had interrupted a moment between her and Chloe earlier today.
"OK. What did I miss?" Victoria asked, her rage momentarily slacked at the twin joys of getting a good photo, and taking revenge in kind for Max's earlier photo ambush.
"We were just discussing Tales of Phantasia." Max said, voice still dripping in a melancholy born of wistful recollection.
Victoria let out a huff. Honestly, it felt like Max could get nostalgic and emotional over just about anything. Still, it wasn't like she was completely ignorant of that particular game. In fact she may have had a collection of Mint and Arche figurines hidden in another nondescript looking cardboard box somewhere.
"Such a shame it's so widely known for that horrid super nintendo translation. It mangles everything with gratuitous vulgarity, the sort of thing only someone with the mind of a boy at the dawn of pubescence could possibly enjoy. The later translation on Playstation was objectively superior."
That should have been a safe opinion to share, but for some reason both Max and Chloe looked strangely hurt. As if she'd taken their childhood and trampled all over it.
"I kind-of liked how they made it unambiguous that Arche enjoyed her sex dream." Max eventually replied, with Chloe nodding very affirmatively in support. "The way it was originally written, it sounds like she's dreaming of the main character forcing themselves on her. It's honestly a bit creepy."
"Wonderful. The translators managed to make it less gender-problematic by reducing the cast to a pack of crass imbeciles."
An alert suddenly sounded on Victoria's phone. She cast her eyes down at it, and her rage reasserted itself, her expression verging on homicidal.
"Tori, what the hell is the matter?"
"Dana and I are having a 'disagreement' on social media." Victoria growled back, her fury further inflamed by having just re-skimmed their entire 'conversation'. Her fingers danced across the phone's screen, formulating a response to the latest affront Dana had posted.
"What about?"
"You! And your stupid dream that you didn't actually have."
Max grabbed her own phone and checked Victoria's facebook, feeling the welcome intrusion of Chloe leaning in close and spying over her shoulder. Everything seemed to begin with the message she had left, according to their master plan.
Max Caulfield:
I had the most incredibly weird dream yesterday, so real it's kind of been haunting me. It was set here, in Arcadia Bay, and I kept waking up to all these creepy supernatural events. One after another, day after day. It started off fairly tame: a freak snowfall. Then things got insane – an unscheduled eclipse, then a mass whale beaching, then two moons appearing. Finally, there was a storm which spawned the most enormous tornado and utterly destroyed the town! And to make matters worse, in the nastiest coincidence imaginable, it actually did snow yesterday evening! I'm kind of freaked out.
Then of course, came Victoria's 'officially sanctioned' bullying response.
Victoria Maribeth Chase:
I wouldn't worry too much Max. Your dream, like most things generated by your imagination, is facile and completely scientifically illiterate. Freak eclipses are completely impossible, unless you somehow teleport the moon around, which I'm sure would royally fuck with the tides and probably either violate momentum conservation or send the moon careering off in the wrong direction. And if you somehow found or created a second moon and suddenly stuck it in orbit, between the inevitable changes in orbits and tidal forces, we'd have a lot more to worry about than a single measly tornado. Oh, were these supposed to be in order of increasing weirdness and improbability? If so you should have put either the whales beaching first or the snowfall, then the 'huge' tornado. Then the teleporting moon and finally the 'bonus moon'. Honestly, it's a good thing your subconscious isn't writing speculative fiction. I'd have thrown the story down in disgust and walked out if I read something so idiotic.
Max flinched. Victoria hadn't held back. And this was where Dana had intervened, clearly taking umbrage with Victoria's vitriol clad critique and leaping to Max's defence.
Dana Ward:
Victoria, don't be so cruel! No one can control what their subconscious feels, or puts in their dreams. I think it's wonderful that Max has the confidence to share something like that online. Honestly, I thought you and her were getting along so much better yesterday…
Victoria had then responded in a manner that wasn't entirely in accordance with her plan. Though it did nothing to allay Dana's suspicions on how Victoria actually felt about Max, and that of course left Victoria wide open.
Victoria Maribeth Chase:
I wasn't being cruel! Anyone of intelligence would feel much better after finding out the content of their nightmare was utterly impossible and could never happen in real life.
Dana Ward:
Oh, so this is just the weird way Victoria Chase expresses affection then. Obsessing over and insulting the person she cares about because she can't express her true feelings. Max, if you read this, trust me you can do a lot better than her. Speaking of which, you've got to tell me about that handsome visitor you had this morning. They were totally blushing when they mentioned your name!
The quality of the discourse rapidly deteriorated at this point. The topic of fashion was broached, focusing on the extent to which Dana's clothing actually performed its primary function, versus Victoria basing her own style on fashion normally popular among the post-menopausal. That immediately led to a very concise parting exchange.
Victoria Maribeth Chase:
Go eat a dick, Dana.
Dana Ward:
I've been trying to find one that isn't already covered in your lipstick. ;)
And thus Max and Chloe had a decidedly red-faced Victoria sitting opposite them in their booth.
"Victoria, if it makes you feel better, remember that we orchestrated this to spread a message about the tornado. You've basically trolled Dana and made her help spread that message, co-opting all her followers. And she's got even more followers than you."
That did make Victoria feel a little better. She was trolling Dana, and using her as a pawn for her own purposes. Still, an obnoxious number of users seemed to be on Dana's side. Even Max and Chloe seemed a little amused reading the exchange opposite her on Max's phone. Victoria's nostrils flared as she noticed a new comment being added to Dana's last post. Some imbecile calling themselves the "Noir Angel" had apparently taxed their intellectual capacity to the limit to type "=kek".
"You know, Max, aside from that special morning face shot, I haven't really seen any of your recent photographs." Chloe hurriedly interjected. That wasn't completely true, She had seen an entire wall of Max's photos in her room. But she hadn't really had a chance to take a good look at them. Besides she had an ulterior motive; she wanted to distract Victoria and get her thinking about a topic that wouldn't cause her to storm around infuriated, or speculate too closely on the identity of the author of that last comment. Asking to see Max's photos seemed a good bet: so far they seemed to cause Victoria to dump whatever she was doing and attract the sum-total of her attention.
Max reached for some of the shots she'd taken yesterday. There were the two shots of Trevor getting nutted, of course, which Chloe laughed her ass off at. She quickly passed them to Victoria, who showed signs of cheering up, taking a certain perverse pleasure in being reminded that Dana's new maybe-boyfriend had been smashed in the groin. Then there was the shot of Alyssa's car nearly killing Trevor's friends, which she found a little more serious. Finally there were the photos Max had taken in the bathroom. Six of them. Max hesitated. That didn't seem right. There should have been four: the one of Victoria looking beautifully aggravated, one of Max's reflection in the bucket, and the two with Chloe they hadn't handed in as evidence.
"These are some crazy ass effects. Did you photoshop them while on blow?" Chloe asked, handling two of the shots.
"Probably a consequence of her stupidly shaking the polaroids. Honestly, I'm surprised you don't ruin your shots more often, Max. What're they of?"
"One of you, Tori. Looking just like you do now. Completely normal, I mean." Pissed off in other words. "And another one with the bucket and Max's reflection. They actually look kind of sick, some weird colour inversion mashed up with everything sort of distorted and dissolving."
Chloe placed the shots on the table. Victoria drew a stilted breath as she saw them.
"Max. Those were taken before you first used your powers!"
"The timeline where you were shot, Chloe, that we changed."
"So it's from a place that no longer exists. Why's it gone all acid-trippy though? Think it's getting eaten by langoliers or some other Steven King shit?"
"The idea of giant mouths eating an aborted timeline is crazy. Though maybe some twisted echo of that timeline has to remain, since the current one's been influenced by knowledge Max gained from the previous?"
Chloe turned her attention to the four unruined photos from the bathroom. A sudden pulse of anger ran through her as she saw the shot with Nathan holding her at gunpoint.
"That fuck!"
"Watch your damn language in my diner, or you'll only get one slice of bacon." Joyce shouted as she brought over the plates of food, causing Chloe to instantly droop. Victoria smirked in response: It wasn't every day she got to witness someone with an almost legendary air of badassery being chewed out by her mother.
Chloe surreptitiously covered the photos on the table with her right arm, while making a show of reaching for the salt shaker. She was used to quickly moving to hide the odd thing from her family, as well as removing wallets from rich assholes she'd met in bars. This felt more important than those cases though. She really didn't want Joyce seeing the shot of her being held at gunpoint, or the one of her picking up Nathan's gun after she'd beaten the shit out of him. Joyce eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then decided to drop the matter. Teenage girls were entitled to a few harmless secrets, after all.
"This is all so incredible." Chloe remarked as soon as Joyce left earshot, taking her left arm off the seat top behind Max, in order to pick up her cutlery. It left Max feeling a strange cold void, even though they hadn't actually been in direct contact.
"I finally reunite with Max, and she's literally superhuman; I find out that Tori's secretly quite bad-ass, and the complete bitch everyone thinks she is is just a very well rehearsed cover for her secret identity; now we're on a secret mission to save a whole town from a rogue tornado."
She impaled a large slice of bacon on the end of a fork, devouring it ravenously, before adding "I just wish Rachel was here with us. Then it'd be absolutely perfect."
Victoria immediately rolled her eyes. Both at the idea Rachel would have made the situation better, and at Chloe thinking Max travelling in time and her not being a complete bitch were on the same level.
"No really, is it far fetched to think that you two might learn to get along? You probably thought you'd never get along with Me, or Max either. And now look at you. Plus she could probably help us out. She was ridiculously good at everything she did."
It seemed incredible to Max that Chloe would describe someone as ridiculously good at everything. Chloe herself seemed to have incredible natural dexterity, aim and brute strength; if she chose to put in the effort, she was also formidably intelligent. Max tried to imagine someone better than that. She really couldn't. Then again, Max was biased: to her, the idea of anyone being better than her Chloe was unthinkable.
"There's an enormous difference between Max and Rachel." Victoria curtly responded, while carefully carving a modest chunk off her own omelet. "As much as they might look alike, Rachel and Max are both emotionally and morally polar opposites. The Rachel I remember was incredibly self-centred and duplicitous. Max can't stop thinking of how to help others. And we're doing a perfectly adequate job without her."
"People did say Rachel had a certain mirror-like quality to her." Chloe shot back. Victoria made herself busy savouring the latest bite of her breakfast, in lieu of dignifying that with a response.
"And just imagine how, once Arcadia Bay is safe, you could all set out together after this and make the world bow. The two best photographers in the school, representing the establishment, and the alternate viewpoints. Plus a model who wouldn't infuriate you, Tori, because she's actually hella smart rather than a vacuous bimbo. Imagine her at Miss World! All the other contestants would be saying how they wanted 'world peace', and she'd explain how to shift foreign policy in order to reduce conflicts around the world. To which the host would probably say 'you mean world peace'. And she'd roll her eyes and say 'yes, world peace'."
Max tried again to picture what Rachel must have been like. In spite of having seen her photo, she could only come up with some being of pure energy, walking amongst the mere mortals. More than the description, anyone who could make Chloe so gushing with praise had to be amazing beyond belief. For Victoria, her thoughts were somewhat different. She could definitely imagine Rachel looking all picture perfect, in a short dress stretched tight around that big bubbly ass of hers, all while explaining the political steps needed to achieve global harmony. Rachel was the consummate politician after all. The beautiful little liar. She'd definitely trapped a certain short haired, and at the time comparatively naive, blonde in her web of deceit. Then tried to suck her dry.
"And what about you, Chloe?" Max asked.
"Bodyguard, I guess."
Max knew that was her childhood fantasy, but felt she was capable of something more, something far less subservient. She was about to say something quietly supportive about having so much more to contribute, when Victoria did so instead. And naturally, Victoria did so in her typical manner.
"Completely mediocre. Don't you think you should set your ambitions a little higher than being someone else's meat shield? You easily have enough intelligence to get a university degree, and frankly with your height you'd actually have a better chance at Rachel's modelling dream than she did, if it wasn't for your-"
Her tirade was momentarily interrupted by her choking on a residual bit of omelet. She gestured at Chloe's right arm, while saving herself with a powerful cough, as well as saving her companions the trouble of getting up and performing a Heimlich manoeuvre.
"My tats?" Chloe asked, as Victoria raised a paper towel to her mouth and deposited something she'd rather not look at into it.
"I was going to say your overdeveloped muscles", Victoria replied a little horsely, her throat still sore from that choking bout. "but I suppose those too. Really though, your looks are secondary. What's more important is that you're smart, you idiot! You could be achieving a lot more than you currently are."
Max couldn't help but smirk a little. Only Victoria would call someone an idiot while praising their intelligence. And straight after managing to choke on her own breakfast.
"I had plans." Chloe insisted. "Enough to make the world bow. It's just that since Rachel disappeared, everything I, we'd planned together went to hell. Until I find her, everything else is on hold."
That seemed naively optimistic to Victoria. After all, if foul play was involved, the vast majority of young women who'd been missing for more than a day weren't found, or at least weren't found alive. Rachel had been missing six months. It was really quite obvious when you stopped to think about it, though somehow the idea hit her a little harder than she expected it to. The truth was she hadn't thought too much about Rachel's disappearance; she'd occupied a comfortable position in her mind as the target of her anger. In all probability Rachel was dead. And failing that, locked up in some sick fuck's basement, wishing she was. She looked again at Chloe, and saw in her eyes a childlike innocence completely at odds with her usual tough as nails persona.
"I'm just saying there's nothing wrong with thinking of yourself sometimes, and making plans of your own, independent of others." Victoria said, trying to soften her delivery a little.
"I actually have a completed application for Bay College in my desk, just sitting there." Chloe admitted sombrely, then stopped to take an deep breath. When she spoke again it was with her normal boundless enthusiasm, and laced with a suggestive under current. "But those are long term plans. In the short term, I've got plenty for us to do. For example, I was going to show you my secret place, to teach you both things you probably shouldn't know."
And suddenly she was back to the transparent innuendo. It was a little difficult to tell how much of it was driven by actual desire, and how much of it was just a defence mechanism. Throwing out corny lines to ensure the discussion was driven away from the more serious things she didn't want to face. Like planning a future that didn't involve seeing Rachel again.
"So, time to book?" Chloe asked. She and Victoria had finished both their plates of food. Max still had a quarter of her bacon omelet left, but felt completely stuffed. She pushed the plate toward Chloe, and its content was gone in seconds.
With the last plate emptied, the three rose to depart. An instant later, Max's phone began to ring.
"Come on, you've got classes in the afternoon, and before that you both need to begin Chloe's illicit education. We've got places to go, and people to do."
Max was about to send the call to voice mail, when a strange feeling of cold dread crept over her. She checked the caller ID. It was Kate Marsh.
She looked back at Chloe, so enthusiastic to get going, and Victoria who had her arms folded impatiently, then back at the phone. She knew exactly what she had to do.
"This might be important, so I'll take the call while we walk out."
And with that, she started toward the exit, while simultaneously bringing her phone to her ear. In the moment before Kate's sweet, and slightly pained voice came across the speaker, Max found herself thinking that, while there were undoubtably difficult choices ahead, it was occasionally both possible and completely reasonable to choose both options.
Concluding Author Notes:
In hindsight, the decision whether or not to take Kate's phone call might have been the first completely inane "forced choices" in the original game. There's no reason why Max couldn't walk out of the diner while taking it, stopping Chloe from getting chewed out by her Mother and keeping everyone happy. Or maybe the second inane choice, after the option to take photo/intervene when David Madsen bullies Kate, since she could have snapped the photo then marched up to him and chewed him out. Perhaps directly threatening him with said photo.
Anyway this fic has somehow become the antithesis of the original game, with Max dodging most of the binary choices the game tried to force on her and even ending up on a path to get two girlfriends at once. It started with me just deciding to mock some of the things I didn't like in the original game. Apparently the things I didn't like were actually the game's core message and concept lol. I felt the original message they were trying to push – that you shouldn't dwell over decisions you've made in the past and redo them was pretty silly. The main reason you shouldn't do that is you don't have the facility to undo your decisions. But Max does. Hence they have to inject a contrived external constraint, the tornado, to try to validate their theme. But inserting a transparent author fiat proves nothing, except that no fictional character can evade their questionably concieved script.
I wasn't sure how to write Grey here. She's an original character, which kind of worries me. I'd rather write the characters from the original game than make up new ones and insert them. The problem was Sean Prescott needed someone to do his dirty work for him, so her presence was needed. I also liked the idea of a lady villain, since all the major threats from the original game were dudes. In one variation, I actually had Grey grapple Chloe into a proper restraining hold, and be more overt in revealing what she was up to. But that felt 'unprofessional' for a professional hit-person, that she'd be tipping her hand a little too much and maybe even risking arrest. In the end you got a nasty mirroring of what Chloe did to Dana, which would look to everyone else like she'd just caught a person stumbling into her, and wouldn't tip her target off beyond thinking "she's a bit strong", rather than "she has a rather comprehensive knowledge of submission holds".
I wrote Justin's drug-stupor a bit over the top here, especially as far as an experienced drug user goes. I kind-of have an issue with people obsessing over the three bullets on Chloe's necklace, representing the three times she'll be killed (or three of the greater number of times she'll be killed, based on player choice), as "deep", so I started writing him as a bit of a stereotypical parody stoner expressing that point of view. I tried to justify it by saying he'd not only taken stronger weed than he's used to, but a magic mushroom as well (probably not a wise combination in hindsight, the risk of weed anxiety + hallucinations might not be pleasant). Anyway he apparently he hallucinates rainbows radiating off Chloe (and strangely none of the other people in the diner). Could that be another deep insight into the universe? Maybe he was just seeing the same thing as the reader?