Notes: It's a long one today.
Glossary - GTA is short for Grand Theft Auto. If you don't know what that is, I guess you live under a rock, but uh, it's a video game where you steal cars, do crimes, shoot people, drive around etc.

'We have to go.' Elsa takes both their cigarettes and stubs them out in the ashtray, 'Someone's coming.'

'Like the police?'

'No, worse.' There's no time for backstory, 'Bad guys.'

'I thought you were the bad guys!' Anna shrieks with delight and giggles as Elsa hoists her over her shoulder once again - it's to be expected at this point, 'Whooh, you're strong! Do you work out?'

Elsa's mind spins through frantic thoughts and questions, like a wheel of fortune. Should she bother locking up? Hide the laptops? Should she try to bring any of the cargo with her? There's still a couple of million dollars worth of drugs and guns in the house. Her boss wouldn't expect it, but it would earn her some good favour to store away for a rainy day. Maybe Anna could even help-

No. No, that's ridiculous. Anna is a wild card. She's trying to squeeze Elsa's butt right now.

Safety first. Those assholes could be anywhere. She grabs both their bags, throws Anna in the front seat, and hits the open road.

'Ooo, I get to ride in the front, like a people?'

Crowbar, useless as always, didn't know which direction the assholes are coming from. Just that they're on the highway. The highway which is rapidly approaching at the end of this dirt road, where Elsa will have to make a decision. North or south? They probably won't follow them. They'll probably assume she left everything of value behind. But just in case they're in a particularly greedy mood, she makes the unorthodox decision to drive off the road, straight onto the wispy yellowing field, avoiding the highway altogether.

'What!? What is happening!' Anna presses her hands and face against the window, like she's in a plane that's taking off, 'This adventure keeps getting weirder! I feel like Alice in Wonderland.'

Steering over the bumpy hills is difficult, and monopolises Elsa's focus. The wheels don't grip very well. She has to slow down and maneuver through some pesky trees, then speed up again to ram down a fence, and of course, avoid all the curious cows milling about on the field, mooing at them obnoxiously. Each new obstacle expertly navigated earns cheers and whoops from Anna, who is apparently having a lot of fun without the burden of avoiding death and keeping the van intact. 'I can't believe you ran over a fence! This is just like GTA! Hey, can we run over a cop next?'

Finally they make it onto a backroad, knocking down another fence and turning tightly. If her calculations are correct, they are heading south now. Yep, the setting sun is to her right. Homeward bound. The tension in her jaw starts to ease, just a little bit. The pounding in her temples dies down. Anna's right. It is a little like GTA, in that utter relief and slowing of thoughts when you finally escape the danger and can just focus on that satisfying hum of the motor and smooth tyres against slick sealed bitumen roads.

'Are you mad at me?'

'What?' Geez, this girl has some weird priorities. 'Why- Why would I be mad at you?'

'Well you're ignoring me,' Anna says with genuine (baffling) insecurity in her voice. 'Did I say something wrong?'

'Kind of just focusing on not getting us killed, here.' She tries to explain the gravity of the situation, knowing it's probably pointless. Tries to speak Anna's language. 'Real life isn't like GTA. You can't just run through a spray of bullets and survive because you're the main character.'

'Right, right,' Anna says seriously, 'Not even if-'

Elsa cuts her off, 'Not even if you use your special ability.'

Anna is quiet for a moment, um-ing and ah-ing to herself. Most definitely not contemplating the seriousness of her situation, like anyone else would be. No, there's no point trying to predict what ridiculous and reckless (and kind of amusing, to be completely honest) thing will come out of her mouth. Elsa begrudgingly admits to herself that she is kind of looking forward to hearing it.

'What would your special ability be?' Anna asks. 'If you were a GTA character?'

That's a weird question. Kind of a fun question. The kind of question Elsa's brothers would ask. She should give them a call, some time. It's been a while. Although Olaf's going through this gross stage where he repeats the filthy things he hears playing Call of Duty online, without having a clue what they mean. It's sickening, even for Elsa, to hear slurs and depraved sexual innuendo coming out of the mouth of her sweet, innocent little eleven-year-old brother who still sleeps with a plushie and thinks babies come from cabbages. Call her a square, but Elsa is firmly in the violent-video-games-are-a-bad-influence camp.

'I think yours would be sarcasm.' Anna offers. 'Mine would be charming animals to do my bidding, obviously. And also cunnilingus. I give spectacular cunnilingus.'

Damn. Elsa can't compete with that. 'How come you get two abilities? I want two abilities. Sarcasm, and… uh…'

Blank. Blank. They pass field after field with dopey-ass cows and sheep staring at them dumbly. Reflecting her dumb, blank mind back at her.

Think, Elsa. Back in high school, she was an excellent student. Well, academically, at least. Socially, she had some challenges.

'I'm really good at multiple choice tests.'

'How is that helpful in GTA?'

'Excuse me? How is eating pussy helpful?'

'How is it not? Use your imagination.'

The conversation flows surprisingly easily as they cruise through the country roads, through dull, yellowing fields, past distant mountains, through lush forest. Alongside the blazing sunset casting its fiery brilliance over the untouched Australian landscape in all its harsh, dry, but very alive glory.

It turns out they have very different approaches to video games. Anna likes to create a "communist people's army" in Age of Empires. Yes, it's what it sounds like. No military units. No gold. Just hundreds and hundreds of upgraded villagers attacking until the enemy runs out of resources. It's certainly not what the game developers had in mind. Elsa, meanwhile, likes to build walls. Rows and rows of impenetrable, thick stone walls, with a tower here and there, for good measure. Much like in real life. Walls make her feel safe.

They both play The Sims, as well. Elsa plays properly. She takes very good care of her sims. Never lets them get too hungry or tired. Always tries to achieve their goals. And she absolutely never uses cheats. Not even the money cheat. It's just not as satisfying once you cheat.

Anna likes to invite all the men in town to her house for a party, then trap them in an underground labyrinth and watch them die, one by one.

Various topics make their way in and out of conversation. Nothing too deep. Celebrities. School subjects. Movies. Anna knows better than to ask where they're going. She's a little nervous. Of course, she won't admit it, but the tell-tale signs are there. Elsa rewards her bravery by staying calm and indulging in her chitter-chatter.

They're just about to cross the mighty Murray River and re-enter Victoria when who should emerge to make Elsa's life harder but the goddamn New South Wales Police themselves. Seriously? Out of all the hundreds of times she has crossed this border, they choose tonight to take a break from sitting on their asses eating donuts, and do their bloody jobs for once.

Her mind is spinning again, like the wheel of fortune wheel. All the options whizzing past, all equally suspicious and infeasible. Turn around and speed away? Slow down and cut the tape on Anna's wrists? Throw her in the back? Cover her with a blanket? That's stupid, she doesn't even have a blanket!

It's just like last time, when she got sucked into this whole mess in the first place, and chained to the game. Only this time, it's a human being in the car, not a shit load of pure grade cocaine. And she can't just throw her into the river and bolt, like she did with all those blocks of snow white nose candy.

A really silly part of her goes into GTA mode. There are only, what, six of them, max? She could probably take them. She has enough bullets, if she makes every shot. Anna would probably swoon. But she's never going to see Anna, or anyone for that matter, because she's going to the clink until she's a wrinkled old husk of a woman with saggy tits and probably a few wonky face tattoos. Anna might still be into that, actually. God, why is she thinking about that? Priorities, Elsa!

It's happening. They're pulling her over. Three cop cars. One in front, another alongside her. Another behind. She can't outspeed them. There's nowhere to go.

This is what it feels like to be trapped. Elsa's mouth is dry like the red desert sands. Her hands shake on the steering wheel. Her chest is tight like someone has reached in and grabbed her lungs and squeezed them, and she feels like she's going to vomit. Or maybe even wet her pants.

Shit, is this how her hostages feel?

Someone must have snitched. One of the guys must have got caught and sold her out. Or maybe Anna's mother snapped and called the cops. It doesn't matter now. She's headed for the slammer, for sure. She's going to live the rest of her life in a tiny metal box, wearing a hideous jumpsuit, surrounded by bogans and meth heads - the kind of girls who used to beat her up in school. The guards will strip her naked, make her squat and cough, shine a torch into her butthole or something. The food won't even be vegan!

And the worst part is she deserves it. This was always her fate. She was stupid to think she could get away with this. With any of it.

All these thoughts and more run through her head as she rolls the window down. The boys in blue approach - one at each window. They're looking at her like hawks locked in on their prey.

'Got your license in there with you, mate?'

They know.

'Where you coming from, tonight?'

They must know. Their eyes flick to the duct tape.

She tries to say "Sydney" but the word gets stuck in her throat but all that comes out is a slow, pathetic hiss. It's just like high school all again.

At least she's not wearing a Sailor Moon costume with cat ears, this time.

'Evening officer,' Anna smiles at the cop in her window, all bright and sunshiny. She's about to be rescued, after all. She'll get hot chocolate and a blanket at the police station. She'll get her phone back. She might even get to have one of those Sixty Minutes specials made about her ordeal. Elsa's going to have a toothbrush shiv in the kidney. 'What can we help you with?'

'I think maybe we're the ones that can help you, hm?' He looks to her wrists and back to her.

Elsa's cop leans into the window, squinting at her license, and back to her, 'You care to explain why your mate here is all tied up?'

She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. She is frozen. Completely frozen in place. Like a statue.

'It's a little bit embarrassing, officer,' Anna says. Good for her. She's getting herself rescued. Well, it was a good run. Maybe prison won't be so bad. There's probably vegan food in the commissary. 'It's a little game my life partner and I play. In the bedroom.' She speaks out of the side of her mouth, bulging her eyes in a don't-make-me-spell-it-out fashion, 'If you know what I mean.'

'You're telling us this is some kind of sex game?' Elsa's cop asks, disbelief all over him.

It takes a moment for her to register what's happening. Anna is covering for her.

Anna is covering for her?

She manages to nod awkwardly, hot shame rising to her cheeks. These cops will think she's a kinky sex freak now. And she kind of has to go along with it.

'Ma'am', Anna's cop is the absolute picture of scepticism, 'Your nose is clearly broken?'

But Anna is determined to run with this, 'What are you, the sex police? Our private life is none of your business!'

Oh, too far, Anna. They're never going to believe that. The tape, maybe. But this? No.

'It is our business if you're being assaulted.' There it is. Let's see her try to wiggle out of this.

'Okay, look, I admit it. I got into a bar fight. I can't help it. I'm very protective of my life partner. She has crippling social anxiety. Crippling, do you understand? When someone makes her uncomfortable, like you're doing now, it just gets me really riled up! That's why we're playing the kidnapping game. Roleplays help us both let off steam after a stressful night. And to be honest, mate, you're kinda killin' the mood, you feel me?'

All the suspicion on the officers' faces has now just turned to complete bewilderment. Yep. Elsa knows exactly what they're feeling. Just pure, Anna-flavoured W. T. F.

'I'm sorry, come again?' Says Elsa's cop.

'Can your friend confirm this?' Anna's cop says.

Again, nothing but choked noises come out of Elsa. It's not a lie. She does have social anxiety. She's maybe not crippled by it, but she definitely has a social limp, so to speak.

Anna somehow manages to waggle her finger at the cop, 'Okay, first of all, this is my life partner, not my friend, okay? This isn't the 1950s. And secondly, as I have previously stated, she has crippling social anxiety. It's been a long battle, but she can order her own coffee now, and make her own doctors appointments, and we are so proud of her! But having to answer questions on the spot is very traumatic. And I would like your badge number, sir, because I think you could use some sensitivity training around mental health accessibility and LGBTQ plus inclusivity.'

The two cops look at each other, dumbly, like a couple of mooing cows, before shaking their heads and stepping back.

'Yeah, nah, fuck this shit, mate.' The first one throws Elsa's license back at her. 'You're free to go.'

'Bloody Victorians.'

'Fuckin' oath.'

And just like that, they're free. Over the bridge. Into Victoria. No face tattoos, squatting and coughing or toothbrush shivs today.

It takes a good twenty minutes for Elsa's nerves to fire at an acceptable pace, for her thoughts to reorder themselves. For her heart to stop hammering against her chest and her hands to stop shaking on the wheel. She feels like she's been pulled from the side of a cliff, onto solid ground.

To her credit, Anna says nothing during this time. Just turns the radio up and hums along to the biggest hits from the 80s, 90s and today, whatever "today" means.

'Why, Anna? Why would you do that?'

Anna turns slowly, with such a wicked, devious smile on her face, like a little haunted doll, that Elsa almost regrets asking.

This must be how Hans feels when he realises his half eaten cereal is probably spiked with acid or something.

'You owe me, now.'

Shit. In all her imaginings of prison life, Elsa ironically did not stop to actually take into account the shifting power dynamics right in front of her. Huh. Is it too late to shoot her in the leg? 'What do you want?'

Please say something normal. Brownie. Coffee. Weed. A goddamn hug. Hell, Elsa will give her a kiss if that's what she wants. Just a little peck. On the lips even, sure. That wouldn't be so bad. No tongue, though.

'Three things.' She pauses for dramatic effect. It's very effective. She's clearly put thought into this. 'First, I'd like this tape off my hands.'

'Okay yeah, that's a good idea.' Elsa indicates (even though there's no one else on the road), pulls over briefly and cuts the tape. Indicates again, pulls out again. The suspense is killing her.

'Thank you.' She flexes her wrists satisfiedly, 'Second thing. I would like McDonalds.'

'You can't be serious.'

'Oh, I've never been more serious about anything in my entire life. You saw the sign. Drive-Thru coming up. And Mama needs her hotcakes! If you know what I mean. I'm kidding about that last part. There's no innuendo. I actually just want hotcakes.'

'Fine.'

They drive in silence (if the biggest hits of the 80s, 90s and today can be considered silence) for a while, until Elsa breaks and asks, 'What's the third thing?'

'I'm so glad you asked. I want to know who you are.'

'That's, that's kind of difficult,' Elsa says. On a practical level, it's a huge risk to take, even though Anna has already had the chance to turn her in and declined. 'I mean it's kind of an abstract concept. I don't even really know who I am, any more.'

'How about we start with your name.'

There it is again. Searching for humanity. It's fair enough. She wants to know that the person who has taken total control of her life, who she has put her trust in, now, is in fact a person. Not a "sexless drone" or whatever she called her earlier. Elsa reaches for her wallet and flicks it over.

This is apparently more than Anna could have hoped for. She opens it and pulls out cards like they're the answers to humanity's great questions. 'Ooo, license! Elsa! Interesting name. Not what I would have picked for you. Hagenbatten. Is that German?'

'Norwegian.'

'Interesting! Interesting. Birthday's in December - Sagittarius but just on the cusp. Nineties baby. Footscray! You're from the westside, huh? I've heard the Pho out there is amazing. You still live at this address?'

Jesus, she's like a medical receptionist. 'No.'

'No, that would have been too good to be true. It's funny, most regular people look like serial killers in their license photos. And here you are, bad to the bone, looking like an angel! Cute. What else do we have here? Medicare card. Bank card. Bank card. Bank- you have a lot of bank cards! All under different names. Are these- You know what? I don't need to know. Loyalty card, loyalty card, I've never heard of these cafes, and oh my god! Is this what I think it is? Doth the universe really bless me so? It is!'

Elsa glances over briefly to see her high school ID card, and cringes. She isn't sure why she even keeps it. Sometimes it's nice to be reminded of the innocent human she used to be.

'Aw, look at you, so little and cute! Are those cat ears!' It's a statement, not a question. They both know those are definitely cat ears. 'Oh, that's amazing. I would have been friends with you.'

'No you wouldn't.'

'Yes I would.'

'No. You wouldn't.'

'Would so.'

'Anna! You wouldn't. Okay? Nobody was.' Elsa doesn't know why she's compelled to argue this. Maybe it still stings, a little. They turn into the McDonalds Drive-Thru, finally. 'What do you want?'

'I just want to connect with you, emotionally-'

'From. Mcdonalds.'

'Oh. Uh. Right.' Anna puts all the cards back into the wallet awkwardly and hands it over, eventually ordering her precious hotcakes, hashbrowns and a chocolate shake.

The employee in the window gives them a raised eyebrow, but says nothing.

It's three hot apple pies and a soy latte for Elsa. They eat in silence in the parked van. It's not entirely uncomfortable, but a little foreboding, as lights whizz past them on the highway, in the dark cover of the night. All these cars, these people driving down the highway for their own reasons, with their own secrets and lies and traumatic high school memories. Elsa drifts off inside herself, thinking about the girls who used to bully her. Thinking about shooting them in the legs.

'So, um,' Anna's tone loses its surety. She fidgets a bit. 'What happens next? I guess you can't tell me where we're going… '

Elsa shakes her head apologetically. To be fair, she's only just found out, herself. She suggested a cheap motel, but her boss insisted they go to the Blue House. One her least favourite bases/meth labs in the outer suburbs of Melbourne.

'So, we'll go to the next place, and um, you'll stay with me? Right?'

Aw, that is just too much. Adorable. Heartbreaking. Even Elsa can't shut that down. 'Yeah of course. I'm not going to just dump you there and leave. I'm the one who's gotta return you to your parents, anyway.'

'Yeah, sure. Right.' Anna swallows, 'And when do you think that might happen?'

'Hopefully really soon.' Elsa says the word "hopefully", but oddly enough she notes a feeling that is mildly… unhopeful? Unexcited? Like a deflated balloon. Or a plastic bag. Oh god. Is she starting to enjoy her company? Is she getting fond of her? Looks like she needs to shoot herself in the leg. 'Negotiations are going really well.'

'Negotiations? What is there to negotiate?' Anna asks, offended, 'He pays the money, you let me go, why would he try to negotiate? I'm his favourite!'

She sure is. Poor Hans.

'Okay, negotiation is the wrong word. It's just that we're dealing with such ridiculously massive sums of money. And your dad's having to access his illegal funds. It can take a while to process international transfers, for accounts to clear-'

'Wait, wait,' Anna interrupts, 'How big a sum are we talking?'

She really should not tell Anna this. She's never told a hostage this before. To be fair, none of them have ever had the chance to ask. But it's better than thinking about high school. 'Originally we were going to ask for four million... But he straight up offered us eight, so…'

There's a big, reverent silence as they both sit and contemplate the value of a human life. Of Anna's life. Elsa stares down at her open palms, thinking about the atrocities they have committed. The lives they have ended. Real people with hopes and dreams and probably weird kinks, too. She's lost count of how many. What were they worth? What would they have become?

'Well that's great!' Anna's tone is like your mum's tone when you tell her you're seeing someone new, and they're really nice, 'That's enough to get you out of debt!'

Oh, bless. Bless her heart. So naive. So optimistic.

'Uh-uh. I don't get to keep it. I only get a tiny cut. Like maybe five percent. But you know. I'm just chipping away at it. Bit by bit.'

The horror on Anna's face is like when you tell your mum the new person you're seeing just got out of jail, 'But you did all the work! That's so unfair!'

Yes. Yes, she did. And yes, it is. All Elsa can do is nod. Life is unfair. Life isn't a video game. When you drop five million dollars worth of cocaine in the river, you don't get a second chance. You pay for it.

Anna chews her hotcakes angrily. She slurps on her shake aggressively. 'So your boss who takes all the cut, that's who you owe the money to?'

'No.' This is such a depressing topic. 'I just work under her, like a supervisor. It's complicated. Don't worry about it.'

'Why don't you just call my dad, take the money for yourself, pay your debt, and then fuck her off?'

'It- It's not that simple, Anna. She'll send people to cut off my ears in the night.'

'Uh, that's why you kill her?' Anna says in a duh tone. 'Then we can run off into the sunset together and live happily ever after. Like Thelma and Louise.'

Elsa doesn't have the heart to tell her that even if she wanted to, it's just more complicated than that. There's a hierarchy, and she's at the bottom. Nor does she have the heart to tell her that Thelma and Louise die at the end of the film. Instead she simply takes a cigarette, lights it, and tries to enjoy this brief time before she has to put Anna in the back and go to that wretched, awful house.

And the moral of the story is... don't mess with the weird girl who comes to school in cat ears and a Sailor Moon costume. You just don't know what she's capable of.

Anyway, a lot of dialogue in this chapter, whew! I think someone might need to tape Anna's mouth shut next chapter...