The following morning I wake up at seven after a night of bad sleeping, preparing to go for a little shopping in town. I manage not to complain about the shower that doesn't even have warm water and on top of it the color is reddish due to the rusty pipes, I then brush my teeth and make a mental list for everything I need to buy. I dress up in normal jeans, the running shoes from the base, and this time a thicker jacket.

As I leave Lydia's Pension, gratefully not having met Lydia herself this morning, I notice the thin layer of snow that set last night. And to think that a week ago I was in New Zealand in midsummer. I enjoy the pretty sight as I tie my hair in a ponytail hoping that I won't be recognized by any of the people I encountered yesterday. I look at my watch. 7:24. My schedule is so tight that I don't have a second to lose. I scan the shops that I already studied yesterday skillfully, glad to know that I didn't waste any time ever since I came to Medleytown. Everything was done with a purpose and now I already know where to go and how to reach there without having to ask for directions or search like a frantic.

I make a small detour to buy myself some apples and biscuits for breakfast and then I enter the first store that suits my taste. I buy a pair of scissors, a lot of wire, matches, duct tape, pliers, a bunch of batteries, a black graffiti spray, and a lot of aluminum.

I try to keep an organized mind and keep my objectives always in front of me. When I place the products in front of the shop assistant, she looks at me in such a wrong way that you'd think I was a 90year old hag buying a swimming suit in midwinter. So I find it rather difficult to look at her straightly without wanting to excuse myself for my decision of purchase. After all, it's not every day that you see a girl buy such a weird combination of things. But, I tell myself, wait until you see what I'm buying tomorrow from another shop.

I hurry home all along keeping a good track of time. The first thing I do is have an edgy attempt to ask the snappish Lydia for the Wi-Fi password without any proper reason. However, in the end, Darla is the one who gives me a note with it. So I lock myself (kicking the door violently) in my room and search for several information I needed to make sure of on the internet. Of course that I do not trust it completely, but I still lack too much knowledge in the physics area to be able to build what I have planned.

I then officially begin the offensive activities within my mission.

The first one is me testing out a few small, improvised circuits to get the hang of electricity. When I feel like I understand how it's done, I prepare the things I need and hide them under the bed's mattress. I follow my schedule and go out for the second time today to buy the following round of things I need.

After one hour of searching, I find a strong dog whistle with a frequency even higher than the mobile phone app ones. I then enter a pharmacy and buy the strongest laxative I can find.

I already spent a third of my money and worry starts to creep inside me. But I try to ignore it, knowing that right now, buying food is not as important as buying the best materials I need in order to execute my perfect plan.

It's already 12 o'clock when I decide I have everything I need for the moment and it's time that I start getting to know the gang a little better.

So I start walking towards the secret hideout of Target number 26: Hugo Cross. An obsessed chemist, maybe the smartest of the group, that spends his days sleeping and nights making experiments and working on a top secret substance that he thinks will be awarded, overlooked by the NIPP and used in the National Security offensive acts. He buys his substances and materials through Chase on the black market. That's the reason he joined the gang in the first place; because he needed Chase. He does some small tasks the gang leader asks of him from time to time, but other than that he doesn't have a big participation. That's why he owes Chase so much that he wouldn't dare to disobey him in any matter. Nobody knows where his laboratory is, but the police set me on it and expects me to finish him off along with his mad ambitions to build a new chemical weapon.

I know where to find him; and I'm guessing the lab can't be that far away either judging from his progress and rare public appearances.

Half an hour away from Lydia's Pension there's this pretty neighborhood with white houses and purple violets at windows. One of the houses, more specifically the last one in the left sided row, has a slightly bigger garage than the others. Just perfect for hiding an underground soundproof laboratory where explosions and other weird activities happen that are ventilated during the night so that during the day it's quiet and normal just like any other garage. Or that's what my guess is, at least. Assuming that the house, according to my sources, belongs to Hugo Cross.

The police has already searched the house and the garage and it found nothing. But I can't ignore this feeling that I have that the lab is under the house. It must be hidden somewhere. Now the question is: how do I enter the house and search for it unnoticed?

I like to consider myself a professional actress already. I can trick people and if I'm careful enough, I can even make them do something I want. So when I press the door bell with the imaginary script of my meticulous plan flashing before my eyes, I'm not the slightest bit nervous. I'm dressed with a thick coat and the huge hood pulled over my head so that my face is barely visible.

I wait for a while, but just as I expected, nobody gets the door. After all, Hugo Cross sleeps during the day. I ring the second time taking advantage of waiting so that with fast glimpses I take in the details that other people in normal circumstances wouldn't have noticed. I see the cheap camera in the corner of the door pointed down at me. I see the second camera in the flower pot next to the closest window. I see the weird position of another flower pot on the steps beside me and I immediately suspect that it has been moved quickly, carelessly, as if somebody wanted to get something from or underneath it. Maybe something like a key.

Hugo Cross is obviously not getting the door and I take into consideration the possibility that I've woken him up. So I leave, giving him the time to fall back asleep to make sure I can safely enter his house without him being awake to see it. I return after twenty minutes of randomly taking a walk through the neighborhood with my sports bag hanging over my shoulder. I then put my sun glasses on despite the dim light of this wintery day, pull out the black graffiti spray I bought this morning and spray the screen of the camera at the corner of the door while holding a hand at the side of my face to hide it from the second one in the flower pot. I then do the same thing with it and double check for any other one. I put the spray back in my bag along with the sunglasses in order not to look weird to any of the neighbors in case I'm being seen.

I check the street and when I see it empty, I lift the flower pot on the steps in front of the door. There's no key underneath it. I dig around the withered plant until I come upon a small bag with a dust white as snow.

I lift an eyebrow. So it wasn't the key mister Hugo was hiding in the flower pot. I take the bag knowing that it will turn out useful somehow and start thinking for another way of entering the house. On a whim, I check the window just in case. My eyes widen when I find it open. I double check the street and then put down all the flower pots as fast as I can. I lift the window all the way up and jump through the gap skillfully, hurrying to close it without sound, to hide from it and look inside the house.

With my heart beating fast I study an unkempt living room as silent as a grave. The walls are grey and the furniture is old and cheap. There are dozens of books and files spread on a table in the middle of the room, but other than that, the room has no plants, no ornaments, no pictures, nothing. I step soundlessly on the cheap grey moquette, keeping a close look-out for any other cameras or important objects. I roll my eyes down the walls to check for any hint of fake or traps that lead to hidden places. The entire house smells like chemical substances and there are several darkened areas on the ceiling after maybe a tall flame erupted or something small exploded. Maybe a failed experiment. I enter the kitchen and see the sink full of dishes. I push the creaking door of the bathroom and notice thousands of bottles on, inside and around the cabinet, as well as the mirror. They are all very well organized and specifically labeled. Most of them are medicine, nothing too important.

I prepare to leave when I see a medium sized bottle labeled as HF. At first, I squeeze all my chemistry knowledge to remember what it stood for. I have a mild guess what it is, but in order to make sure, I take it and open the lid. I let a few drops of the transparent liquid drop on a toothbrush and the wired plastic is immediately burnt, it curls up and then melts dripping in the sink as blue liquid plastic drops. My guess was correct. HF stands for hydrofluoric acid and in bigger doses it can even burn someone to death. Hugo Cross was a complete moron to leave it here in the open.

I zip my sport bag closed over the sealed bottle with the acid. I scan the medications left around the cabinet. I decide upon several of them and then, as silently as I can, I take them and scrape the scotch on top of the paper labels off. It takes a while and I jump at every sound I hear from both inside and outside the house. There are times when my heart starts beating so fast with anticipation that I think my entire plan is going to be ruined. But Hugo never woke up during my stay and in the end, I manag to take all the labels off. Then I do the thing an experienced chemist is most scared of. I start sticking the labels back on, only to the wrong bottles. All the important medications and pills that have a very strict schedule and amount which should be taken, are now mixed up and he'll never know which ones were which. Because I checked, and most of the pills look all the same: round and white.

I silently place the bottles back on the shelves or cabinet, checking to see how plausible it looks. If you look carefully, the scotch was messed up at the corners, but other than that it looks perfectly fine.

I prepare to leave, convinced that for Target number 26 the mission is completed.

Target number 21, Mike Deposit, whom I've already met last night, has a motorcycle. His motorcycle is his utter love and he is so protective with it that he could kill anybody who would even glimpse at it. His motorcycle is the only thing he uses as a mean of transportation and he likes to show off with it as often as he can. To do that, every night he takes it for a ride in the city and then stops for half an hour at all the bars he knows until he meets with some buddies and is so absorbed in the conversations or games of gambling that he could even stay for a good few hours without checking on his beloved motorcycle.

Tonight he will be the one to lead me to other targets that I don't know the current location of.

It's 3 p.m. As I wait for the sky to get darker so that the gang members will surface out to the night, I take the bag with white dust that I found at Hugo Cross's house. I throw it on the table in my room and drop down on a chair. For a few minutes, the clock ticking on the wall is the only sound as I stare at the bag. What is it? Is it drugs? What if it's poison? How can I tell? I drum my fingers on the table, thinking. I keep thinking, until I remember seeing a cat walking around the Pension earlier this morning. I jump off my chair and go downstairs looking for it. I find it, I pick it up and take it to my room against its struggles to jump out of my arms. I apologize to the kitty as I lock myself in my room with her once again. I then go straight to the bag and open it, forcing the cat's nose inside the small gap. At first she fights it, but in the end I manage to hold her tightly until I'm sure she breathed in a few times. The cat doesn't die, nor now, nor after quarter an hour. Instead, it calms down so much that it stops moving, laying on the ground with opened legs, looking so relaxed that the only word which could describe her right now is high. So my experiment turned out right. The white dust is probably cocaine.

I open the door and let the cat leave once she's a little more awake. I then take out the well hidden labeled bottles in my suitcase. Reece and Cynthia. Ricin takes longer to inactivate the system than Cyanide, so I choose Ricin. The dust isn't as delicate as the cocaine and it's definitely not as white, but still, I mix the poison with the drug inside the bag, knowing that when their time to be applied comes, the lights will be too bad for others to notice the color of the level of granulated-ness. Because according to my plan, it will be happening in a dim-lighted bar.

It's 4 p.m. and outside the light is already fading. I take another shower, just to make sure I don't smell like any chemical substance. I then take another dress I have: the dress for the second day, and apply make-up, making sure I look as attractive as possible.

I hide the stuff I don't want others to be finding in my room and take the things I need outside with me. By the time I'm outside it's almost five and already dark. I start walking though the cold winter air in a specific direction. I know where to find Mike Deposit around this time. He's supposed to go grab a bite at a diner and then go downtown to meet Targets number 12, 13 and 14 before randomly visiting bars. I'm close to downtown when I hear the unmistakable groaning sound similar to a whale's cry, which belongs to a motorcycle breaking the speed limit. I'm almost sure it was my target, because Medleytown is a too small and poor to afford selling motorcycles. I keep walking, now personally assured by Mike Deposit that I'm going in the right direction.

After a while I see Mike's motorcycle parked in front of a random bar. I subtly throw it an inquiring glance before I climb the steps to enter the bar. I'm already making plans about my actions while stepping into the dimmed light.

This is when I enter Theresa mode.

Mike Deposit along with Targets number 12, 13, 14, 19 and 20 all live in the same mansion at the exit towards the highway. They share the rent even though Mike could easily pay for all six of them considering how rich he is. The mansion is so extravagant and expensive that it's also packed with an elevator. I saw the building from afar when the BLS van was passing by. It's very impressive and to be honest, I almost can't wait to visit it later tonight.

I see the first four men gathered around a table at a game of poker, exactly as I guessed. Targets number 19 and 20 must be either home, or out in the city. According to my information, they like going around the town beating the crap out of anybody who crosses ways with them, or they're out robbing people and shops.

I sit at the bar shyly, trying as hard as I can to look like I'm already experienced in this kind of stuff. Theresa has a pride as hard as stone. I look around at the people in the bar, a lot fewer than at The Pockets, and my eyes intentionally meet with Mike Deposit's. I smile seductively and hold his questioning eyes for a few moments before I wink and turn to the barman. I answer his question telling him that for the moment I don't want anything. I then glimpse back at Mike, but he's too caught up in the game. I click my tongue annoyed. How do I make him come here?

I start looking at the time now and then, at the digital clock on the barman's drink table. I try to seem very impatient and bored so I begin watching the game of poker of my targets. I never knew the rules of the game. All I know is that if you give the right combination of cards, you win the round. And neither do I start to understand more from watching their game, but that's not my purpose to begin with. Eventually Target number 14 notices me staring at them and elbows Mike suggestively. He then motions for me to come to their table.

But Theresa wouldn't do that in a thousand years, so I simply lift an eyebrow cockily and then roll my eyes, looking at the time and then at the door over the heads of the people. From the corner of my eye I see one guy standing up. I wait and I notice Target number 13, Peter Borne, pop up beside me resting against the bar.

"Hey there pretty lady. Ye've been staring for a while. Ye think ye wanna join for a game?"

"Sorry, I'm waiting for someone." I lie, turning my head arrogantly from him.

"Come'on, just a short round, whadda' ye' say?"

"I don't know how to play poker."

"I can teach yeah'."

I sigh heavily, as if I'm making them a favor by accepting.

"Hmph. Fine, you can teach me poker. I've got nothing better to do anyway."

So I stand up and follow him to the table.

"Why good day, missus. Would you like to join us for a game of poker?" Mike grins at me while doing the cards with professional moves.

"I'm fine just by watching." I declare sitting on an empty chair beside him. "Plus the moment the person I'm waiting for shows up, I'm leaving you gentlemen."

"Uuu, and whomever might you be waiting for?" he asks me wiggling his eyebrows and I narrow my eyes as if wondering whether I should tell them or not.

"A guy."

"Of course," they laugh, apparently in a very good mood. Perfect. It's something I need.

"His name is Chase."

They never expected me to continue so now they're staring at me with wide eyes and smoking cigarettes in a ridiculous frozen position. It's silent for a moment and nobody's moving.

"Oh **! She's Chase's girl." Mike calls out and stands up alarmed. He grabs my chair and starts pulling it away from the table along with me. "It was nice knowing you missus. But it's probably time you left before he got any wrong idea."

I screech scared by the sudden movement and grab unto the chair like my life depended on it.

"I'm nobody's girl!" I scream pissed off, obviously overreacting like the usual Theresa. "Stop pulling me!"

"Listen sweetheart," Target number 13 Peter Borne says with a cigar between his teeth, moving his mustache in a funny way. "We don't want no trouble with the boss, alright? The least he has to do is see us glimpse his girl's way and we're muerto, like ol' Reece always says. So tell him we're sorry we were friendly with yeah'."

I'm starting to learn more and more about Chase and each time I'm more surprised. So he's the jealous type? Or just controlling and overly possessive?

"That's why I'm telling you that I'm nobody's girl!"

Mike stopped pulling the chair and now I'm pissed off, dragging myself back to the table embarrassed to have to do such a pride damaging act and I place my hands decisively on the table.

"If I want to play poker, I play poker and nobody can do anything about it." I flip my hair and cross my legs cockily.

"Fine," Mike lifts his hands in defense. "I tried."

He sits down.

"But don't go crying to him that we forced you or anything, alright?"

I roll my eyes.

"You couldn't force me even if you wanted."

"Yeah. Exactly. Make sure to tell him that too, okay?" he insists cautiously.

"Actually," Target number 13 Peter Bourne adds "Tell 'im otherwise; that you forced us to let you tag along."

"Are you stupid?!" I snap but then pull out a sudden flinch as if it was just a slip of attitude that usually Theresa is trying to cover. I have a slight moment of regret, but then pride kicks in and I straighten my back. "I don't have to reason myself to anyone."

Then I pull a secret maneuver and lowering my eyes a little sadly but as if trying to hide it, I press my lips together and my eyebrows furrow. I open my mouth once to speak, but pause to gather myself and compress the sadness.

"Plus… I doubt he's coming anymore." I add in a proud tone hiding disappointment.

Of course that Theresa's acting skills suck and she is like an open book to the four men staring at her more or less surprised.

"You think he gave you the bag to hold?"

Surprised by the sudden relationship counselor-like question, I look at the man who spoke. He's Target number 12, an older guy with grizzled black hair pulled back with way too much hair gel and wearing a white bottom up shirt opened up at the chest area to reveal a very well built torso. His face is the kind you'd expect for any person sitting at this type of table: a poker-face.

"W-what?" I ask to hide the confusion. I expected them to laugh me off or to ignore me, but don't tell me that he's going to show me compassion for my situation.

"Chase likes to play with girls a lot, which is the reason why he can't stop at a single one. And usually he keeps them around for a while, making sure everybody knows his girl is the territory that's off limits even to his best buddies." he says mildly, in a sympathetic way.

"Yeah, even Choi Wu got it good from him once." Mike admits in a mutter, falling silent probably remembering about it.

So Choi Wu is Chase's closest friend after all? I had a feeling, but I wasn't sure.

Theresa is starting to get excited, feeling so intrigued by who Chase seems to be, that she unconsciously leans in towards the men with wide eyes.

"Why? What did Choi Wu do?"

"Well." says Target number 12, the guy with the opened shirt whose name is Derrick Carpits. He laughs and clears his throat. "Choi Wu just so happened to be pissed off at Chase, they had a fight, and then Chase found them sucking each other's faces. That was the end of Choi Wu's rebellion against boss, for an eternity. So even if he's dumped you, don't go around doing stupid things because we'll be the ones to suffer."

"Wait, dumped me?" I ask and they all stare at me confused. "You told me that because you thought he dumped me?"

"Isn't that why he's not showing up? Because he got bored of you and moved on to the next girl?"

"I met Chase yesterday." I press the words like it's obvious, almost as if I'm offended. "And nothing has happened between us."

Yet, Lucy inside me is dying to add.

There's a pause of silence around the table and then the guys burst out laughing one after another, with snorts and belly-shaking. I look at each confused and annoyed. They don't stop and especially don't feel the need to illuminate me as to why I'm the center of amusement. Mike starts doing the cards again, his shoulders still jumping in laughter and him shaking his head like it was one of the best jokes he's ever heard.

I feel the need to enter defense, for some reason.

"B-But it's not like he doesn't like me." I state arrogantly, but nobody's listening to me anymore. Mike's fingers are moving fast above the table as he splits the cards equally to each player. They take their respective decks, all except me, who said I'm not playing. I glare at them grumpy to have been insulted in such a way.

I start preparing the field for my next move.

I sigh affectedly and suddenly stand up.

"I'm going outside for a moment, to see if Chase is coming or not after all."

"I thought we already settled that he's not coming." Derrick Carpits states cackling and throwing me a curious glance.

I turn to glare at him before walking away swinging my hips. I shoulder my purse and unconsciously squeeze it in my palm. I try not to look surprised as I realize my hands are sweating. I guess I'm more nervous than I'm ready to admit. I walk through the people with a tumultuous heat beating in my chest. When I reach the exit door, I open it flinging my eyes forth as if I'm searching for someone.

But the moment I close it behind me, I check both sides and find myself almost alone, aside from some people smoking and laughing at something. It's pitch black already and snow is falling so slowly and mildly that along with the cheerful music and light coming from inside, it gives the romantic feeling of winter. I shudder at the memory flash of a toothy grin and the familiar touch of its lips. I squeeze my eyes with pain. I can't afford to think about him right now. Because I'll see him in a few days anyway.

Oh, let it be so. Please let me see him again. Please don't let me die here.

And thus, with the longing expression on my face, I look around for somebody other than the one in my head. I wipe the chills off my bare arms and shift my head alongside the horizon of blackened houses and blocks until I completely turn towards the bar again and see somebody glaring at me through the window.

I flinch when I see Mike piercing his dark eyes right through me in a suspicious manner. My heart starts racing so fast that for an absurd second, I think that I'm busted. However, I remember that Theresa has nothing to feel guilty about, so I play dumb. I lift my eyebrows lightly and then part my face from his. He, as well, turns back to his game of poker.

What was that? Did he suspect anything?

Now I'm very glad that I stopped to take in the view as if I'm still waiting for Chase. I have to be very careful of what I'm doing, even when I think that nobody's watching me.

I walk a certain distance away from the windows until I make sure that nobody can see me. I then prepare to continue my plan in which I stop a passenger and threaten the life out of him to go to the poker table and tell those people that a certain guy called Hugo Cross told him to urgently pass on a little bag. Bag which, of course, contains the poisoned drug. I have the little details to rely on in order to make them dance to my song.

But what I certainly didn't expect and was out of any plan that I was capable of hatching, is exactly what's happening now, when I'm caught red-handed, about to take out the bag of cocaine, in front of the last person I expected to see tonight.

Before my eyes, every single move that I've carved so meticulously in my plan for tonight, is wrecked to the ground by that beautiful face grinning at me with those ice-cold green eyes that glimmer deviously even in the darkness of the night. Chase stops in front of me, hood pulled over his head, hands in pockets, looking at me with such wicked, shadowed eyes hiding so many secrets, that the image hits me like an ice bucket dropped down my naked back. I shiver uncontrollably and so guiltily, that Theresa is, for the longest moment so far, forgotten.

Chase's steps melt the fragile carpet of snow that looks blue in the darkness of the night. He's almost soundless as he approaches me lazily.

"Hey there, pretty lady." his voice sounds in the silence one octave lower than usual. I shiver again. "What are you doing in such a retreated side of the city?"

The only things that come to mind are the bag of cocaine and the scissors in my purse, and the dumbfound expression that reflects like a mirror what I was about to do just now. I know I'm frozen, but I'm also overly aware that time is not; time is running and I can't afford to lose any second according to my plan. And thousands of facial expressions and reactions of Theresa come to my mind, but I'm so blocked that I can't pull any of them.

What should I answer? That I'm at the bar with his buddies? That I came out looking for him? That I lied telling them that we were supposed to meet tonight when in fact we weren't?

I open my mouth to answer, straightening my back and finally being able to pull myself together.

"T-that's none of your business."

"But I thought that we agreed you're only allowed in such dangerous places if you're with me."

He's now so close that I can see the light from a streetlamp reflecting in his mischievous green eyes. It's silent. A light steam exits his nostrils. The streetlamp flickers a few times and then it completely shuts off, leaving us in complete darkness.

"I didn't know how to contact you." I confess as if I didn't even notice the lights.

"You wanted to contact me?" he asks as if he's testing me. Somehow I feel a different question behind this one, so I chose my words carefully.

"I was hoping I could meet you again."

This way I can turn the situation to my favor regarding my lie to the other gang members.

"You were?" he grins even wider as he's narrowing his eyes.

"Of course. I can't find a single thing in this town. How do you expect me to manage without a guide?"

After a break of silence, the atmosphere seems to lighten out of the blue and he bursts out laughing. I try to compress the need to sigh with relief. I managed this one.

But my bran is working restlessly. I'm desperately searching for a plan B. Chase just ruined my absolutely immaculate plan A and now I have to search for solutions. How do I adapt? I'm supposed to be good at spontaneity, but not for this mission. No, this mission has to be perfect. I can't take any risks. I need to be prepared beforehand. I can't afford to make my targets take me by surprise like that. Especially not Chase. He's the most dangerous one of them. Because he observes too many details he isn't supposed to observe. It wouldn't surprise me if just now, he saw right through me.

"Were you going somewhere?" we ask in unison and look at each other surprised.

I laugh amused and he chuckles as well. But then I clear my throat and return to being the serious Theresa. It's all to give him the impression that he's seeing hidden parts of me, that nobody else is seeing. That, in order to make him think he's closer to me than others.

"You go first." he chuckles low from the throat and I see him study me closely in the darkness.

"I was… " I hesitate glimpsing at my feet "I wasn't going anywhere."

"But you did come out of a bar just now."

My eyes snap up at him. He's looking at me with that knowing smirk that makes me so annoyed and scared at the same time.

"Are you following me?" I ask in a whisper.

"No, I just happened to pass by, hon."

"Sure you did." I narrow my eyes at him and he cackles. "What about you? Where were you going?"

"I was going to meet up with some friends, hoping that I'd cross ways with a hot chick."

It's either my imagination, either his body is bending forth closing the distance between us. I watch as a cloud of steam exits through his opened lips and then he glimpses down at mine.

"I guess my wish came true." he says on a low voice.

I get scared for some reason. I whirl on my heels and start walking away, in the opposite direction I was going, pulling the cocky attitude. For a moment I panic, thinking that this is not how Theresa would act, but then a brilliant idea strikes me. I fake anger for no apparent reason.

"Whatever. Just stop with the creepy stalking, you weirdo. Nobody likes that." I bark at him as I stomp down the road towards the bar I exited a few minutes ago.

Chase takes me by surprise when his big fingers grip my shoulder powerfully and he pulls me back so brutally that I trip and turn, falling in the direction he's pulling. I end up bumping against his chest, right under a pair of murderous green eyes, wishing I were thousands of miles away. My breath is cut short when he hisses between his teeth threateningly:

"Don't talk to me like that, you b*tch. Who the f* do you think you are? All I've done yesterday was swallow your crap one after another and I've gotten seriously sick of it."

I'm so shocked and scared that I have to bite my tongue the moment he grips me so hard that it becomes painful, in order not to burst out shouting something unnecessary. I force myself twice as shocked because I'm currently Theresa and my eyes start tearing up. His own eyes are so cold and blood-thirsty that I'm blocked trembling under his violent grasp.

But then, his face changes and he calms down just as suddenly as he snapped. He looks a little doubtful, as if he didn't intend me to see a surprisingly violent side of him. Not towards me, at least. I have to admit, Chase surprises me more and more each moment I spend with him. And each time I desire more and more to reach that moment in which I land the final strike.

I'm clenching my teeth, trying not to cry with anger and pain. I shake once trying to free myself, but Chase doesn't let go.

"Let go of me, you bastard." I say lowly, trying to keep a steady voice. "Let go of me! Get your dirty hands off of me!"

"I didn't mean it like that." he apologizes so ridiculously calmly that not even the biggest fool could take him seriously.

"Of course you didn't mean it like that." I concentrate so much poison in the sarcasm and such a hateful glare in his direction, that you'd expect him to react. But he's not impressed and his other hand is suddenly circling my waist. I yelp shocked when he pulls.

"I'm sorry, okay? I really didn't mean that."

I start yelling:

"Let me go! Don't you dare touch me!"

"But I hate people being rude and suddenly, you were very rude with me." he explains, pouting innocently, which angers Theresa even more, making her burst angrily in a confession:

"Because you look so much like him and have the same name as him and then you go and say the same sappy crap like him!"

Because apparently 'hot chick' is sappy to Theresa. But Chase seems to have fallen for the fake tears and now he's silent, watching me with widened eyes. Finally Theresa's heartbroken side comes to the surface. It's true that she's mainly cocky and bossy, but the reason why she came to this town in the first place is because she's heartbroken. Now she slowly relaxes, having poured her frustration, and she cries helplessly with her face covered in her hands.

Chase is for the first time since I've met him, blocked. He doesn't know what to do. His touch is suddenly robotic and unsure and he's staring at me break down without making a sound. I don't let this opportunity slip and after a while, I grasp his jacket with my wet hands and cover my face at his chest. He smells of cologne.

"Don't look at me." I say a lot calmer now, but still hiccupping. "I'm hideous."

His only reply is tightening his grip around me. I can't help but think for a moment of Natsu and how natural it was to feel his arms around me, while this stranger only makes me grow Goosebumps. But I continue to pretend he makes me feel good. Even if I'm trembling weakly in his arms.

I wipe my cheeks and check fast to see if my makeup is ruined, but luckily it's not. Hats off to the makers of waterproof mascara and eyeliner. In fact, with my cheeks red and eyes puffy like this, I know I look cute. I'm going to use this to my advantage.

I sniff and stare at his chest embarrassedly, pretending to fix the zip of his jacket.

"Let's p… pretend this didn't happen, okay?"

"Only if you promise to forgive me for hurting you."

I lift my chin proudly, using the last speck of pride I have and then I nod, making it all look like I'm making him a favor.

"B… But I didn't take you for the kind of person who would talk to me like that." I look sideways forcing nonchalance.

He sighs.

"I am the kind of person who demands respect from people. I tend to dislike it when I'm being treated disrespectfully."

"Is it… Because you're a gang leader?" I sniff quietly.

"Yeah." he says hesitatingly as if he doesn't know the answer himself.

I suddenly have a face so sad, so heartbreaking, at the edge of bursting out crying again, that I instantly feel Chase tense up again with confusion. He doesn't know what he said to have made me cry again.

"My ex used to be like that too." my voice is so high pitched in an attempt to muffle the tears, that I sound like a pathetic little mouse. Chase seems to think so too, because his hand starts caressing my back soothingly, although with awkward movements.

My shoulders start shuddering again and more tears gather up only to spill over. My breath is heretic and I'm gripping Chase's jacket tightly.

"Shh, don't cry." he says so robotically that I barely stop myself from giving him the look. "He must've been a dipsh*t for dumping you."

"Yeah," I whimper desperately wiping my tears off my cheeks.

"He was a total idiot. But it was his loss, not yours."

"I know that," I continue.

"He kicked away his chance to be happy."

"Exactly." I sigh wiping the last tears and sniffing disgracefully. I breathe in and out a few more times to regain my regular breath.

We wait a few moments in silence until I finally lift my eyes to look at him. I'm disappointed to realize I can't read through his green eyes. I stare a few moments longingly.

"Chase?" I ask silently.

"Yeah?" comes his late reply.

I hesitate for a moment, but then, with a pleading, dazed look, I ask him:

"Will you make me forget?"

For a moment I have the impression that the broken streetlamp has lightened up again. But then I realize that the glimmer in Chase's eyes didn't belong to any outside source of light.

And again, for a moment, I see beyond his layers into a dark, dark interior where there's a hunger and a dissatisfaction that unsettles me and makes me shiver. Then his thin lips spread into a devious grin and it's almost like I can see the storm of thoughts clouding his mind, but I can't read them. My heart starts beating fast and I find myself unable to breathe in the air that my lungs are in such need for.

"Of course."

It came as natural as if he were telling me the weather was nice. But there's something to it that keeps me blocked. It's in these kinds of moments that I find it too hard to enter Theresa after he's so underhandedly forced me out.

I approach him even more. I feel him respond when his fingers apply a certain pressure on my skin.

"Then buy me a drink."I say and then smile.

It takes him a moment, but then he smiles back, he grins, and eventually he starts laughing.

"Now there's the Theresa that I know."

"Is it a Theresa that you like more?"

"Not necessarily."

"Is there any Theresa that you like?" I pout sadly.

"I'm about to find out." he smirks and suddenly, Theresa loses interest in him.

I push myself out of his arms and I start walking towards the bar where I left my coat and the four targets playing poker.

"I need to fix my face." I excuse myself. Chase doesn't seem to mind too much my disrespectful spontaneity and if he does, he doesn't show it. He follows me and we enter together the bar.

-.-.-.-.-

I let out a huge sigh as I lean against the bathroom wall. Pain is booming in my temples, so I start massaging my head gingerly. I open my eyes and take a look at my reflection in the huge mirrors behind the sinks. I look so tired and so depressed, my eyes puffed and cheeks red, that any person glimpsing at me could tell that I'm not even near the energetic, impulsive Theresa, but a girl worn out from working.

I grimace when I hit a spot that hurts. Everything is stressing me out so much that I'm lucky to have this moment of silence in the stinky ladies' bathroom at the bar. I had to change the entire plan just because I had to meet that stupid Chase. At least I was smart enough not to miss the chance and our relationship escalated more than I expected. I'm glad I chose the moment to use the heartbroken side of Theresa. With the new plan, everything should roll along well. Now all I have to do is look as convincing as I can and even Chase could be tricked.

Right now he joined his buddies for the game of poker while I excused myself to fix my make-up. I noticed that the moment they saw me return along with Chase, their faces dropped and they immediately avoided making eye contact with me. And I also noticed a look of pride and domination from Chase that more or less surprised me. I mean, I sure do intend to make him want to owe me, but why is he already being possessive?

I need to remember that I'm working right now and try to concentrate. I study my surroundings. After a while of thinking, I decide that the ladies' bathroom is no good. So what I do is exit it and after checking all sides existent, I realize nobody's watching me and especially not Chase or Mike. Then I slap my cheeks to make them look redder, I force some tears out and in a rush, I recklessly storm inside the men's bathroom.

Hiccupping and sobbing, I look like I'm crying and because of the tears, I can't see well. So I pass a shocked man and enter the first stall I see, locking myself and letting out the cries. However, in reality I'm taking the bag of cocaine out of my bag. I look around fast.

"Excuse me," the man turns and addresses me hesitatingly.

I pretend to freeze and then I open the door slowly to face him.

"W-what are you doing here? Get out!" I say rudely, but he's not impressed.

"This is the men's bathroom."

"No, this is the ladies' bathroom."

"Maybe you didn't see well because of the tears. Clearly the sign belongs to the men." he explains and I stare at him dumb-founded.

"O-oh… T-then I'm sorry. I'll… get out right away."

I make a move to leave, but then I stop and return into the stall a moment.

"I'll just take some toilet paper for my nose and then I'll leave."

"Of course," he says and then leaves himself. Once I make sure he's gone, I drop the toilet paper and hurry to put the plastic bag with cocaine in the trashcan, hoping that nobody will find it before one of the targets will. I then take out the earring from my left ear and, with regret, I throw it in the trash as well. Let's hope I'm not doing this for nothing. Somebody flushes the toilet, so I move fast before I'd get caught. When I'm out of the bathroom, I fix my hair and apply my lipstick fast before I return at the poker table.

From the moment I enter the group's view length, I see Chase lift his head slowly while laughing with the guys at something. His eyes lock with me, he studies me intently and then holds my eyes the entire time it takes me to reach them. Theresa is 'slippery' when it comes to stares, but I am not. I try not to get stuck and sweat from all pores and instead smile largely and return him the gaze. It's becoming obvious that Chase is interested in me and he's not going to let me go that easily. I mentally high-five myself. When I sit down beside him, I have an affected expression.

"What took you so long?" Chase asks me in a whisper nonchalantly.

"I accidentally entered the men's bathroom." I tell him a little frustrated. "And then I dropped my earring in the trashcan."

"How the hell did you manage that?" he asks amused.

"I wiped my face with a tissue; I threw the tissue; my earring fell. What's so surprising about it?" I ask very annoyed, as if he's only making my situation worse by being so heartless.

"And let me guess. It was your favorite earring." he mocks me.

"It was something I really liked, just like everything else I wear." I shoot back at him.

"Then I'm sorry to hear that." he seems extremely amused by my girl problems and very unlikely to care about any of them.

He then turns his attention back on the game and I'm completely ignored.

"Who's winning?" I ask disinterested with a sigh.

"Peter," Derrick mutters not moving his eyes from his cards.

"Like hell he is." Mike comments with the indispensable poker face common to all. Only Chase dares to keep that sly smirk as if he already knew he'd win.

"I'm less interested on the person who's winning rather than the person who's losing." I state out with the beginning of a devious grin. I'm looking at their cards as if I could understand what's happening. Chase looks at me questioningly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," I cross my legs sensually and eye him cunningly "That a game isn't a game without a punishment for the loser."

Chase makes a low sound from his throat to express his approval and leans back in his chair, losing interest in the game for the moment.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Nothing in particular," I shrug. "I just thought it would be more fun that way."

"Well she's right." Mike looks at Chase and not at me; he's not daring to. "Let's make prizes and punishments."

I suddenly get very enthusiastic and stand up on an impulse. I jump up and down a few times as I say:

"Then I know the punishment." I clap my hands like a happy brat as I say: "The loser has to look for my lost earring!"

Grinning widely, I show them the ear that still has one earring. Chase starts laughing while a few tensed guys suddenly relax. I wonder what they thought I was going to say.

"That's boring, Theresa." Chase furrows his eyebrows still laughing.

"But it's gross. And I need someone to get my earring back." I state arrogantly.

"And what does the winner get?" Peter asks.

"The earring!" Target 14 says and the table bursts out laughing. "The clean one!" he continues and the laughter only intensifies.

Here's the situation: Chase kind of likes me. In a way or another, he does, even if not romantically. And because his friends can feel that, they don't dare to make any movement or even statement that would address me. They don't want to get on Chase's bad side. But Chase seems a possessive and competitive guy, even if he is unconsciously. So in fact, suppose his buddies made a move on me, he would immediately react in a more or less jealous manner. Or at least, in the worst possible situation, he would stay grumpy and try to get back at them because I've already implanted the grain inside him that makes him think I'm some kind of incredible creature that he alone is allowed to know. So judging from the progress I've made so far, it would be great if he suddenly got jealous over me. But I can't have his gang comrades to rely on for that one; they're way too faithful. So in the end I have to do it myself. I follow his reaction very carefully from the corner of my eye when I speak:

"The winner," the laugher dying down, they turn to look at my flirty face "Will receive a kiss from me."

I send them a flying kiss and then I laugh at their dumb-found faces. For now, Chase seems surprised in a very calm way. It's so frustrating how I can't read through his facial expressions yet. The guys don't know if to be happy or terrified by the idea of being kissed by the girl Chase has his eyes set on. But slowly, I can feel the spirits rising. Secretly they want to win.

Pretending to misunderstand their silence, I drop down on the chair irritated, crossing my arms at my chest.

"Or we could just dawdle staring at each other and playing boring games of poker one after another."

"Hell no." Target 14 cackles "I'll take it."

"A little competition makes the game more exciting." Derrick nods.

"Well I sure as damn ain't going to start searching trashcans." Peter says.

Mike laughs and doesn't say anything, although it's obvious he has nothing against it. Chase is the one who remains completely silent. All guys are looking at him, as if still checking if it's alright. Something tells them they're stepping on a landmine by agreeing to my preposition, but they're enjoying the fun too much to step back.

Chase clicks his tongue annoyed.

"You're just a bunch of idiots."

He takes the cards brutally and starts shuffling them. Chase rarely seems to lose his temper, so the fact that he's doing so right now is a good sign.

The game starts and it's so obvious that the atmosphere is so much tenser, that it's almost amusing. The competition appears without notice, either because nobody wants to search the trashcan for a little earring, no matter how 'boring' it is, either because they secretly wants me to kiss them. As for me, I'm still figuring out whether it's Theresa-like or not to stick to a cheek-kiss. I guess they'd be disappointed, wouldn't they? Ha ha, Lucy you're so sneaky.

Although… Obviously Theresa doesn't intend to forget about her ex with a simple cheek kiss.

After a few rounds, I glimpse at Chase. He's so concentrated on the game, in such a furious manner, so much different from the way he was before, chuckling slyly, that I'm hoping to be right. I want his feelings to be stimulated by this game and no matter what happens, it's my win. No matter who wins or loses, I get the cocaine in the trashcan to be discovered and either get Chase jealous, either get to kiss him.

Theresa is bored of waiting and she starts walking from chair to chair, looking at the players' cards.

"What does this mean?" I point to a combination in Derrick's hands as I whisper into his ear. He keeps such a flat face that it's almost amazing.

"That I'm winning," he obviously lies since the numbers are really bad.

I'm giggling, so amused by the situation, that you'd say I'm the one playing and not them. When I start massaging Target 14's shoulders, Chase's eyes that have so diligently watched his own cards so far, lift and glare into mine for a moment. I lift my eyebrows confused as to why he'd be angry.

"Chase must be losing," Mike cackles silently, making fun of his fuming expression. He earns a glare from the gang leader and the game continues for a while, until they start showing their cards for the last round.

Peter has a really bad combination and the guys around him burst with exclamations and laughter.

"Dude, I thought you had the best cards!"

"Me too! I was sure he'd win!"

"I have a good poker face." Peter explains with a sorrowful smile.

So far, Mike has the lead putting the others far behind, and it's Chase's last turn. My heart is beating extremely fast and for a moment, I'm scared that he's going to win. I'm scared that I'll have to kiss him. But when I remember how violent he was with me when I was a little disrespectful, thinking that he'll have to watch me kiss another man scares me even more. Right now, he's very pissed off and nothing even happened yet. I didn't think about how badly he'd react if he were jealous.

I see Chase's cards, but they don't mean anything to me since I don't know the rules. However, judging from the reaction of the four other men, I understand that Chase has won the game. I don't know how to react. The others are throwing their cards as if frustrated, but they're grinning like you'd normally do after a good game. Nobody expected him to win with that frown shadowing his face the entire game.

"Damn it, Chase. At least restrain from having any expression. Don't lead us wrongly like that." Mike leans back in his seat. "Heck. Now I'm thirsty."

"Who lost?"

"Peter."

"Go buy drinks!"

"Yeah! A round of beers, on you."

"Hell no!" Peter protests.

"But you lost!"

For a moment, I get confused. Actually, I get scared. Did they forget about the deal? They need to search for the earring in order to find the bag. Did I calculate things wrongly? They didn't take me seriously at all?

"The deal was for the loser to search my earring!" I protest offended, figuring that Theresa would want things done her way no matter what.

"Yeah." Chase speaks and the noise dies down until it gets completely silent. His voice was mocking, angry, and his body language communicates that suddenly he's the gang leader. His legs are widely spread and one arm is hung over the back rest. His face is so murderous that nobody dares to make a sound. "Yeah, respect the girl's damn deal."

Peter sighs just for the sake of his pride and he stands up.

"Where did you lose your stupid earring?" he asks bored.

"Show some interest, you moron. The girl put her feelings into the matter." Chase continues the mock. Even I am intimidated and can't move.

It's silent and I realize they're waiting for my reply.

"In the men's bathroom." Thanks to my acting experience, I sound completely nonchalant.

"Go Peter." Derrick cheers and the ice cracks enough for the guys to start yelling idiotic encouragements.

"What about the other side of the deal, Chase?" Mike asks with a smirk. We're all curious to what he has to say, but Chase is glaring at Mike silently.

"Don't be an idiot. I'm not going to do something so stupid."

Even though I do my best not to show it, I'm genuinely shocked to hear that. Not disappointed, oh heavens no! I'm so relieved, actually, that a weight falls off my shoulders. But… why? Why does Chase say that? I thought I had him figured out.

I realize Theresa would be deeply offended if her own preposition were to be disrespected, so I react fast. I stand up and circle his chair with feline movements. Standing at his back, I gently send my fingers through his blonde hair.

"But you don't have to do anything." I smile seductively "I have."

Chase doesn't react and neither do any of the other people present. It's like they're frozen under my spell.

"When I promise something, I usually intend to keep that promise."

"I don't particularly care about that, Theresa." he fake-smiles.

"But isn't it your prize? Why don't you want it?" I circle the chair again and boldly sit on his lap, still playing with his hair.

My head higher than his, I look down into his blue, dangerous eyes. He's glaring at me coldly, but I'm wearing a rebellious little smirk showing him I'm not scared.

He doesn't push me away and suddenly I realize why he said he didn't want to kiss me. He's embarrassed. He's embarrassed to fall for such a childish situation in which he gets jealous over a silly kiss, especially in front of his men. He wants to look cool in front of them, but he can't because he's at my fingertip. That's what he was trying to avoid. And now, when he's not moving as I'm approaching him, I realize something very, extremely important. Chase is about to lose his pride if he accepts this. He's about to look less like a leader by doing this. He's not pushing back.

So Chase is very easy to manipulate.

When I'm this close to him, he's no longer the gang leader. He's just someone who's trying to look cool while doing something un-cool. But he's being completely manipulated by me and he doesn't even know it.

Realizing this is probably the most precious thing I've achieved during this mission.

Because realizing this, Chase is as good as dead.

Hey guys! I cut this chapter short because I didn't realize what I had in mind would spread over a good few chapters. I hope it didn't seem rushed.

Anyway, I'm getting really excited! Even though it was literally the hardest chapter to write ever, I know that it's not half as hard as the next one will be. It's SO hard to plan out this mission, but it's already done (so many sketches and notes!) and I can't wait to write it!

I hope you're looking forward to the next chapter! See ya'!