Author's Notes: So, remember how I said you might get more frequent chapters from me because it's summer? Well, it's actually going to be a much busier summer than I anticipated, so once again, I apologize for the wait.

On a better hand, however, I am in love with this chapter. When I finally got around to writing it, I wrote for three hours straight. I was so excited to get to this part and I love how it came out. Action! Tragedy! Betrayal! This chapter's got it all. You're in for a real treat, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

And yes. This entire chapter is an allusion to The Great Gatsby.

…..

The tales of Mr. Livingstock's parties had hardly been exaggerated, as Reynie soon discovered. The manor itself, which was surrounded by groves of olive trees and intricately shaped topiaries, emitted an amber, welcoming glow. After passing through tall gates, the house's victims walked on white and blue tiled paths that wound through a maze of hallways lined with velvet curtains and gilded frescos. Much of the party, however, was held in the many open air courtyards, where slight breezes kept the crowd from becoming suffocatingly hot.

Lively jazz music drifted through the air, swinging and swaying to the beat of a thousand throbbing souls. The trumpets and piano danced together, weaving an intricate and beautiful pattern. Barefoot men and women, dressed in fine silk, moved passionately across the dance floor, their bodies twisting and intertwining in a dizzying whirlwind of motion. Their sweat glistened in the golden lights with a similar luster to the splendid jewelry hanging off their necks and adorning their knuckles. Waiters walked amongst the crowd, offering out trays of drink, appetizers, and mini desserts that were greedily snatched up.

"Are you quite sure we aren't late?" Reynie had to lean towards Lea to make himself heard.

"I'm never late, Reynie. It just seems that all of Trippoli decided to arrive early. Did you know that there weren't any invitations this time? Anyone and everyone was welcome to come."

"How generous of Mr. Livingstock."

Usually, the parties were invite-only. Mr. Livingstock did a lottery to determine who would have the honor of attending, but besides these wild cards, there was a select crowd that was always welcome at his events. For their loyalty, the Kietas were a part of this group, which also included his frequent customers and business partners, as well as victims he'd picked from the streets. These poor souls took many forms; rich or poor, old or young, it didn't matter. As long as Mr. Livingstock believed he could exploit them to line his pockets, they would get an invitation.

"You stay here; I'm going to see if I can't find our host," Lea said, shifting the bag on her shoulder. "And don't do anything stupid, Reynie."

"No promises."

Lea rolled her eyes and gave a small laugh before disappearing into the crowd.

Now alone, Reynie fought the urge to fiddle with his mask. While he wasn't the only one wearing the masquerade accessory, which had been requested in the dress code, plenty had discarded their own masks, leaving them in piles on the sideline. Reynie was part of a much smaller group that had kept them on, and his disguise made him feel more conspicuous than hidden.

"Champagne, sir?"

Reynie jumped at the voice of a waiter, who extended a tray of glasses towards him. Reynie wasn't much for alcohol; the only time he'd tried any was when Milligan offered him a bit of whiskey when he was just a teen. Still, he felt disinclined to reject the server, and he took a glass with a nod.

He stared at the bubbly wine, swishing it around thoughtfully before tipping it back and taking a large gulp. He wasn't a fan. He swallowed it with a grimace and, fighting a cough, placed the unfinished drink on a passing server's tray.

"Well, it never hurts to try something new," he muttered to himself.

"No," said a voice behind him. "No, it doesn't."

Reynie turned to see an old man dressed in a fine, satin suit. In one hand, he carried a jewel topped cane, and in the other was a glass of carbonated beverage.

"I've never been a fan of champagne myself, so I can't blame you," the old man said. Reynie cast a look towards the drink in his hand, and the man, noticing his gaze, laughed.

"Sparkling water," he explained, "which I greatly prefer to alcohol. I like to keep a bottle with me for these sorts of events so I don't feel left out. I get to enjoy my drink, and everyone else is none the wiser."

"That's very smart of you, Mr—"

"Livingstock. It's a pleasure."

"Oh!" Reynie exclaimed. "Mr. Livingstock! It's an honor to meet you." Reynie took the man's hand and shook it firmly. "My friend just went to look for you actually."

Mr. Livingstock smiled.

"Oh? I didn't realize I was sought after. Who is your friend?"

"I think you know her well. Her name is Leanelle Kieta; we're here to—"

"Ah," Mr. Livingstock interrupted him. "I see. So you're this…special guest, she's been telling me about." Mr. Livingstock looked the boy up and down, and Reynie bit his lip.

"Yes sir. That's me."

"We should talk then."

"Yes, I think we should."

"Come on, then. We'll go somewhere more private."

Mr. Livingstock began to walk away, his cane clicking against the ground. As he strode, the throngs of people parted to let him through, yet none recognized or even acknowledged him. Reynie was quick to follow his host.

After passing through several congested areas of revelry, the two of them entered a more quiet wing of the home where only a few guests had wandered to. They lingered in the corners, dazed from drinking or wrapped in the arms of a lover. Mr. Livingstock gave all of this an envious smile.

"Ah, the pleasure of youth. How I do miss it. Say then son, forgive me for being frank, but are you and Miss Kieta…well, how do I put this?" The man stopped walking to contemplate his words. "Intimate, I suppose?"

Reynie flushed.

"Oh no no no, not at all." He insisted. "I only met her a few days ago; she's just a friend." To Reynie, it seemed as if the temperature of the house raised several degrees, and he tugged at his shirt collar.

Mr. Livingstock, however, only laughed.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to embarrass you. It's only that Lea is very dear to me, almost like my own daughter. You'll find I'm quite protective of her. Now, with that out of the way, why don't you come in and have a seat?" With a sweep of his arm, Mr. Livingstock pushed open a tall wooden door, engraved with woodland carvings. Inside was a small room, filled with bookshelves, a desk, and two chairs. A servant stood in the corner, brushing what appeared to be an enormous ball of pillow stuffing sitting atop a cushioned pedestal. But then, the shape moved and out of the whiteness peered the two beady eyes of a cat.

"Oh, there she is. My darling Pumpkin." Mr. Livingstock moved forward and scooped the cat up into his arms. "These parties frighten her terribly, I'm afraid. There there, my dear. It's alright; I'm here now," he crooned to the animal.

Reynie hardly thought the best looked frightened, but rather that it might claw off the face of anyone who came near. The cat's beady eyes followed him as he took a seat in front of Mr. Livingstock's wooden desk.

"Jeffery," Mr. Livingstock commanded. The servant, who had been tucking away the brush and comb, straightened in attention. "Take my little angel out for some fresh air, and if she gets the nibbles, she's welcome to any hor-d'oeuvres except for the grape jelly. That would upset your stomach, wouldn't it, Pumpkin?" He turned his attention back to his beloved pet, who purred and leaned against the man.

With reluctance, Mr. Livingstock forfeited the animal over to Jeffery, who acknowledged his task with a "Yes sir." and left the two alone. The great wooden door shut behind him with a soft thud.

"Sparkling water?" Mr. Livingstock asked Reynie, pulling a glass bottle out of an ice bucket.

"Yes, thank you. Sir."

Mr. Livingstock smiled as he poured the young man a glass.

"Very polite fellow you are. What did you say your name was?"

"Oh, uhm…" Reynie searched his mind for the pseudonym he had adopted, but nothing came forward

"Well?"

Reynie bit his lip. His eyes darted to the bookshelf behind Mr. Livingstock, and the title of a classic literature piece caught his eye. Somewhere in his mind, a memory of turning pages and absorbing words came forward.

"Nick…" he said, hesitating. "My name is Nick Carraway."

Mr. Livingstock, still standing, handed Reynie his glass and picked up his own. Swirling the liquid slowly, he nodded to himself.

"Nick Carraway. A fine name. It does sound familiar, but I can't place where I've heard of you. You must forgive me, usually I'm so on top of my connections."

"I'm new in town,"

"Oh. And you're leaving already?"

"Trippoli's just not the place for me."

"A shame, then. It's a fine town."

Finally, he took a seat in his leather armchair.

"To your safe travels then!" He said, raising his glass in the air. Reynie mellowly mirrored the gesture, and took a sip of his water.

"About that Mr. Livingstock—" he began

"How did you meet Lea?"

Reynie stopped and set down his glass.

"I—I'm sorry?"

"Where did you meet her? I'm curious." The man leaned back lazily and crossed one leg over the other.

"I'm sure, but we really should talk about tonight and the train. I thought that was what we were coming in here to do."

Mr. Livingstock laughed and gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Oh Nick, you must relax a bit. Everything is in order, I assure you."

"But—"

"Where did you meet Lea?"

Mr. Livingstock was staring at him now, and for the first time Reynie noticed his dark, stormy eyes. He gulped.

"Well, it's kind of a long story—"

Suddenly, he was cut off by a loud scream coming from within the house. Reynie quickly stood up from his seat and looked towards the door. Mr. Livingstock, however, only sighed, and slowly uncoiled himself from his chair.

"What was that?"

"Oh, probably just some woman who's found her husband dancing with another lady," he said, cavalierly draining the rest of his glass. "It's common enough at these sorts of events."

Reynie gripped the strap of his satchel tightly.

"I think I should go see what that was, Mr. Livingstock."

"No no no, there's no need for that," Mr. Livingstock laughed. "Take your seat, Reynie, let's talk some more."

Reynie stopped.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"What did you just call me?"

Reynie turned to look at Mr. Livingstock, who was in the middle of pouring himself a fresh glass of water. At his words, the old man froze, realizing what he'd done. He gave a quiet laugh.

"Now, son," he set the pitcher back down, "I don't know what you heard but—"

Reynie shook his head.

"No," he interrupted. "Mr. Livingstock, you called me Reynie. Mr. Livingstock. you…" Reynie took a small step backwards, his breath hitching in his throat.

The old man sighed and looked at him with those somber, grey eyes.

"Why don't you take a seat, Reynie?"

Once more, Reynie shook his head, frowning now. "I'm leaving, Mr. Livingstock. I appreciate your help, but I think me and Lea can take it from here."

He hurried backwards and crashed into his chair. Both him and the furniture tumbled to the ground with a crash. Reynie picked himself up and leapt for the door, ignoring Mr. Livingstock's cries of "Wait!".

He pushed out into the open hallway and took off at breakneck pace. He moved so quickly he almost ran into the figure that rounded the corner in front of him.

"Lea!" He gasped, holding onto her shoulder to steady himself.

"There you are! Where have you been? We've got to go; the police are here. I've no idea where Mr. Livingstock is but—" She looked past Reynie, down the hall, and gave a relieved smile.

"Mr Livingstock! There you are!" She shoved past Reynie and moved towards him.

"Lea, don't!" Reynie called out, but she ignored him.

"I've been looking for you all night, we need your help out of here; the police have come."

"He knows the police are here Lea; he was the one who called them!" Reynie shouted after her.

This time she listened, and, with a pause, turned to him.

"Reynie…" she laughed. "What are you—what are you talking about?" She turned back to the old man. "What is he talking about?"

Mr. Livingstock looked at her with sorrowful eyes. "I'm sorry, my dear. But I had to."

"No, no what are you-" she shook her head and gave another quiet laugh. "This doesn't make any sense…you wouldn't. You didn't…did you?"

He said nothing, and instead only stared at the young woman.

Lea wasn't laughing anymore. She swallowed and stuttered the beginnings of sentences she couldn't finish. Shaking her head, she took several steps backwards.

"Oh my god, you did." Tears began to well in her eyes, and her voice shook. "How could you? How could you do this?"

"I had to. I have to look out for myself."

"You twisted, greedy, criminal!" She spat. "I thought you cared about me!"

"But I do, Lea." He lunged forward and took her hand. "I've gotten you a full pardon. They only want him. Both of our lives can go back to normal, we can—"

Lea jerked her arm out his grasp. "No. No, I'm not going to stay here. And neither is he. C'mon Reynie, we've got a train to catch."

She stalked away, and Reynie began to follow when he felt himself suddenly pulled back.

"No!" Mr. Livingstock's voice trembled with angwe, holding onto Reynie by his satchel. "You're not going anywhere! Do you know the kind of trouble I'll be in if I let you go? Do you know what they'll do to me?" Reynie pulled at the bag but the man's grip was strong. "Please, Reynie. How many people's lives are you prepared to destroy just so you can keep running?"

Reynie's grip went slack. Mr. Livingstock kept his grasp, pleading with him to stay.

"He hasn't destroyed your life," Lea said, coming towards the two men. Drawing her pocket knife out, she touched the blade to the strap. "You've done a fine job of doing that yourself." And with a quick slice, she cut the bag strap and Reynie fell backwards from the sudden release in tension.

"Cmon!" Lea yelled, pulling him to his feet and into a run.

"But the file!"

"Forget it, your life is more important."

From behind them, Mr. Livingstock gave a few more desperate cries after them and

Reynie did his best to tune out the man's begging.

The pair dashed through several halls until they emerged into the large courtyard where they'd first been. It had suffered a drastic change since Reynie had last seen it. No one was dancing anymore, and all the music had gone quiet. Instead, people were pushing and shoving one another to escape the large group of police who were moving in, clearly unconcerned with hurting anyone who got in their way.

"Keep your head down," Lea muttered, taking his hand and pulling him alongside the wall

"The entryway is blocked," Reynie whispered. "Where are we going?"

"Side exit. I know this house like the back of my hand. From there we can cut through some woods to reach the train station in the center of town."

"How do we even know there will be a train waiting?"

"Because we weren't the original passengers. Mr. Livingstock wasn't lying when he told me there was another family looking to leave."

Reynie nodded, and let Lea guide him across the room. The current of people pushed him in opposing directions, and he clenched her hand tighter so he wouldn't be swept away. From somewhere in the room, Reynie heard the all too familiar hum of electricity, and then the scream of some poor soul who hadn't cooperated. He couldn't help himself from turning his head to see who'd fallen. This, he regretted instantly.

In the brief moment he glanced, Reynie locked eyes with a familiar, bespectacled face. Sharpe. The recognition, it seemed, went both ways, for the Ten Man grinned a toothy smile and whistled to his accomplices.

"Lea, we've got to hurry."

"Why?"

"We've been spotted."

Lea paused to look back, where all of the police were swarming in their direction.

"Oh yes, I see. Let's run then." And once again, the two took off.

Their pace was somewhat slowed by the swarming mass of people, but at least it seemed the Ten Men were hindered as well. Reynie did his best to politely excuse himself as he shoved past people, but he had no idea if anyone heard him. When they finally broke through the crowd, Lea began to lead him around a bend. At that moment, a yellow blur soared in the periphery of Reynie's vision and struck the wall. The pencil stuck and quivered violently. Reynie paused in terrified realization of how close he had been to being struck.

"Cmon!" Lea grabbed his arm and dragged him away as yet another pencil sliced through the air he'd been previously standing in.

The two raced down bend after bend, their shoes pounding against the tiles. From behind them, they could hear the Ten Men's footsteps as they pursued the pair. Their taunts and jeers echoed off the high ceiling, joyously indulging in the hunt.

"Almost there, Reynie," Lea said to him through gasps for air. "See?" As they rounded a final bend, a small iron gate leading out into the night came into view. Reynie willed himself to run harder.

Lea made it first, and unlatched the gate to freedom. Reynie dashed out after her into the warm night air when suddenly a fist grabbed him by the back of his collar and lifted his feet off the ground. They'd been waiting; of course they had been.

"Now, now chicky," the voice crooned. "What's all this rush?"

Reynie twisted in the man's grasp, kicking his legs helplessly in mid air. He couldn't see who had a hold of him, but if there were any Ten Man clever enough to outsmart Reynie, and who could lift him by one hand, it would be McCracken.

"Let me go," he gasped, still struggling.

"No, I don't think I will. Not when we've just been reunited after so long." His cologne was so unbearably strong, Reynie felt dizzy. "Now, if you would just stop kicking, we'll go back inside and have a little chat."

Reynie fought harder.

"Oh dear, that won't do." McCracken clicked his tongue. "Won't you cooperate? It'll be far less painful if you do." At this, he wrapped his massive hand around Reynie's neck and squeezed tightly. Air escaped Reynie, and for several excruciating seconds, spots dotted his vision. And then the pressure was gone, and Reynie was on the ground, coughing in the Ten Men's shadow. The great man laughed at Reynie's gasps for air.

"You're a hard man to find, Reynie; I'll give you that. 4 whole days I've spent searching every corner of Trippoli for you! I'm afraid it's made me terribly impatient."

Reynie cast his eyes around for Lea, but the world was spinning and he caught no sight of her.

"Oh, my young friend," McCracken continued, "you and I are going to have so much fun together!"

Reynie's stomach turned at the horrible sound of McCracken's briefcase snapping open.

"In fact, I don't think I can wait another moment. After all, I've already waited so terribly long to—"

But Reynie never found out what McCracken had in store for him, for at that moment, the Ten Man gave a great cry of pain and stumbled backwards.

Reynie felt himself being pulled upwards once more, but this time by a smaller, comforting hand.

"Lea!" He said, grinning at the wonderfully familiar splotches of white on her face.

"Don't talk, run." She instructed, and Reynie did as he was told.

The two sprinted past olive trees and flowering bushes towards a wooded grove a few yards ahead. From behind them, McCracken gave an angry outcry.

"What…did you do?" Reynie asked.

"Threw…my knife…" She gasped. "Into his…shoulder"

"You stabbed a Ten Man?"

"Yes…I guess so."

The woods were steadily approaching, and with it, the promise of cover. But McCracken, and the other Ten Men, who had caught up by this point, were hot on their heels.

"You can run, my dears, but you're only delaying the inevitable!" Despite his injury, McCracken seemed to have recovered his trademark, cheery attitude rather quickly.

Reynie and Lea burst into the trees, leaves crunching beneath their feet. The vegetation was tall, and had thick, outstretching branches that blocked the moonlight from cutting through and illuminating the forest floor. Lea guided him through a series of zigzagging directions until Reynie was thoroughly disoriented. He could only hope the Ten Men were just as lost as he. He could still hear them, somewhere farther behind, a distant sound in the vast woods.

"Do you know where we're going?" He asked Lea, as he stumbled over roots.

"Of course. We just have to pray that the train is still there."

The train was still there; a fact that greatly pleased Reynie and Lea as they burst out from the wood and into the far end of a rail yard. Every track was empty except for the one at the very front of the lot, the farthest one from them. On this track stood a long, cargo train, covered in fading red paint. Reynie almost collapsed in relief when he saw it.

"We're going to be okay. Lea, we're going to be okay!" He laughed, clutching her arm.

At that moment, however, the train whistle blew, and the gears shifted into motion. The wheels turned as the train began to move forward

"Don't celebrate just yet." Lea said, adjusting the duffel bag on her shoulder.

The two ran towards the train, hurdling over tracks.

"Wait!" Lea called, "Wait for us!"

As futile a cry like this may seem, it did prove to have some effect. On one of the cargo cars, a sliding door cracked open, and the small face of a young girl peered out. Her eyes widened at the sight of them.

"Can you let us in?" Reynie called out to her. The girl stared at the two of them for a moment and then disappeared from the doorway. Reynie's heart dropped.

"Well, it was worth a shot," Lea said. "Don't stop running. Do you see those ladders? Maybe we can jump onto one of them and climb to the top."

The train was moving quicker with each passing second, and jumping towards a speeding vehicle did not appeal to Reynie in the slightest. But then, he heard the emergence of the Ten Men from the woods behind him, and decided he would be willing to take that risk.

Now running along the side of the train, Reynie braced himself to jump, and to likely face a painful death, when a grinding noise caught his attention. Several cars in front of them, the sliding door had been opened all the way. The little girl was waving frantically to them, before she was pulled back by an older man who looked quite similar to her.

"Come on!" He shouted to them. "We'll pull you in!" He leaned out of the cabin, extending a hand as far as he could. Reynie would have laughed with joy if he had enough air. His legs and lungs were burning by now, but the sheer hope of that outstretched hand compelled him forward. Lea reached the car just before him, and the man lifted her up into the cabin. And then it was the two of them, both holding out their hands to grab Reynie. With one final stride, Reynie grasped their arms and let them haul him inside.

It was hardly a graceful maneuver, and Reynie stumbled forward in the cabin. The car was dark, but he could make out shadows of the little girl and another figure, as well as several large piles of hay. He could feel the train rocking beneath the wooden floor as it sped away from Trippoli and onward to their destination. Reynie felt relief was over him. They had made it. They were safe. And with that realization, he promptly collapsed to the floor, utterly exhausted.

Endnotes: As I'm sure you noticed, I tried a new format with dialogue and paragraph breaks, so let me know if you like it better, worse, don't care, etc, etc.

See you next update!