1 We're Back Chapter 7
A/N: I had to hold the humour a little for this. Lemme know if it sucks? Thanks for reading!
P.S. I have nothing against guys, or reporters. Really I don't! Sorry to anyone who gets offended.
~
When Two-Bit woke he was lying on a plush leather couch. Wherever he was, it was warm, and he didn't feel much like getting himself up. But he wasn't exactly in a position to lie back and relax. Forcing his eyes open, he looked around the dimly lit room for his abductors.
"Hello?" he called apprehensively. For a moment nothing happened, then he heard the sound of quick, heavy footsteps pounding on the carpeted floor, making the leaves on the nearby fake plant shake madly. Somewhere, a door creaked and then suddenly, the room was flooded with light. Squinting against the glare, Two-Bit shoved off the couch. A slim man with thick glasses and short salt-and-pepper coloured hair stood blinking and wringing his hands in his long white lab coat.
Two-Bit felt a sudden urge to rush the man and grab him by the collar of his coat. He was pissed. Nobody drugs a greaser and gets away with it. He was about to jump the guy when a sudden, unbidden though occurred to him: the man could tell him what this was all about. Promising himself that he'd get even later, Two-Bit decided to give the man a chance.
"You're awake!" The man smiled, a little nervously. "Well, ah, would you like something to drink?"
Two-Bit realised that he was parched. "Yeah sure," he said, and the man crossed the room quickly, to where a water-filled plastic jug stood on a table. Two-Bit followed, noticing with surprise that the man was several inches taller than he was. The man was so rabbity and scared looking that he appeared to be very short.
"Here," said the man, handing him a cup. Two-Bit accepted, and quickly gulped down the water. It occurred to him halfway through that the water could have been drugged too, and he gave himself a swift mental kick for taking anything from these people.
"What do you want from me?" Two-Bit demanded once he'd finished his drink.
The rabbit man gave him a twitchy smile. "Follow me," he said, and hurried back to the door through which he had come. Two-Bit found himself in a long, marble hallway, its whitewashed walls strongly resembling those of the hospitals. There were several white-painted closed doors on both sides of the hallway, but the man ignored them, leading Two-Bt quickly to the end of the hall. Here, the pattern of doors was broken. The wood of these pair of ornate doors was a dark chestnut colour, and the trim was full of intricate little carvings. A brass plaque embedded in the wood read clearly: MEETING ROOM.
The man hovered around the door for a minute; obviously he didn't really want to go in. Two-Bit decided to give him a hand. He reached forward and grasped the shiny brass doorknob, with every intention of turning it. The man reacted instantly, reaching forward and slapping Two-Bit's hand.
"Hey!" Two-Bit cried indignantly.
"Don't touch." The man turned to his side where a little white box was attached to the wall. Two-Bit watched, fascinated, as the man pressed one of the buttons on the box and began speaking rapidly into a small hole.
It was all very strange and alien. Somewhat like as if Two-Bit had been thrown into the future.
'What the hell is going on?' he thought watching the man speak.
But the box quickly left his mind, because the doors opened at that moment. A tall, strong looking man with thick blond hair clad also in a white lab coat peered through the crack in the door at them.
"Is this him?" he asked in a whisper, nodding at Two-Bit. The rabbit man nodded, and they were quickly admitted.
The room was unlike any the greaser had ever seen. It was huge, for starters, and the windows were tall, looking out at a magnificent view the sunset over a slow moving river. Two-Bit craned his neck, trying to spot any other signs of humans in the wilderness outside the building.
"Ahem. Mr. Matthews?" someone said. Two-Bit turned his gaze to the shiny wood table, and suited men sitting in front of him.
"Uh, yeah, that's me," he said, feeling out of place.
"Have a seat," an old man with a familiar white moustache gestured at an empty chair. Two-Bit stared.
"Mr. V! Hey, what the hell is going on here?" Two-Bit demanded, outraged. So that Mr. Vanviera was behind all this! [Had you not guessed.]
"Mr. Matthews, there's no need to make a scene-"
"It's Two-Bit," the greaser interrupted, "and yeah, there is a need to make a scene. What the hell am I doing here?"
"We wanted to offer you a short-term job, Mr. Matthews," said another man, with hair greased almost as much as Steve's. He smiled and stroked his chin. "But we wanted to make sure you wouldn't refuse."
Large, meaty hands clamped down on both the greaser's shoulders. Two-Bit looked up and found himself staring at the tallest, most muscular man he'd ever seen, wearing a police uniform. Sharp brown eyes glared down at him, and Two-Bit swallowed nervously, wishing desperately that Darry were here to protect him.
"What's my job?" Two-Bit asked meekly.
Mr. Vanviera stood instantly, beaming. "Good boy, I knew you'd co-operate."
'Then why'd you drug me,' Two-Bit thought.
"Mr. Matthews-"
"Two-Bit," he said through gritted teeth.
"You've met Dr. Wittles," Mr. V motioned at the rabbit man. "And this is Dr. Burgman." The blonde-haired man nodded at Two-Bit, but his gaze was on Mr. Vanviera. "They were the scientists who created the equipment that brought your friend to life."
Two-Bit opened his mouth. "Oh. Hi." There was nothing much to say to that.
"Your job is simple." Mr. V leaned forward, fixing the greaser with a piercing stare. "Just do whatever you did that day you revived, uh, Dallas Winston." The room seemed to shudder at his name. Two-Bit caught one man gagging.
Then the full meaning of what the man said hit him. "WHAAAAATTT?!" he yelped. "I can't do that! I ain't no doc…" The muscled man gripped his shoulders tight. "Uh…look, there's gotta be a mistake," Two-Bit pleaded. He couldn't bring people back to life. He wouldn't! Unless…
"There's been no mistake," Mr. Vanviera informed him. "We'll pay you for it," he added. "This project needs a certain person to do what you did. If you don't take this job, nothing will work, the project will go down, the hospital will collapse along with the economy…"
Two-Bit stopped listening. He'd already made up his mind what to do.
"Okay, I'll do it…" he paused. "On one condition."
The men looked up, sceptical looks on their faces. "What would that condition be," one of them asked wearily. They'd been prepared for this, but they'd also hoped that the greaser wouldn't ask for too much. One by one they reached for their chequebooks.
"Not money," Two-Bit said quickly. "I want to bring back this one person first. He was a friend," Two-Bit paused. The men were giving him strange looks, but they were noticeably relieved that he didn't want more money.
"Well, what's the person's name?" Dr. Burgman asked, flipping open a large folder. "I'll see if we have him."
Two-Bit grinned, all thoughts of his mugging and the muscled policeman gone from his mind. "His name is Johnny – John Cade."
~
"What was the first thing you thought when you first woke up?"
Eleanor was running. She was terrified and running as fast as her legs could carry her, which didn't seem to be fast enough at all. Millions of reporters on motorbikes were chasing her, shouting questions to the wind.
"Help!" she screamed. "Help me!"
Electricity flashed, and then Eleanor was surrounded, the yells of the inquiring reporters swirling around her.
"This is hell," she said wildly, "for sure. I really died, and now I'm in hell."
"Wrong," said a bored voice. "You're not in hell. I've been there, and it's not this nice." A pair of familiar jean-blue eyes popped up beside her. They turned themselves to face the many squabbling people. "I've seen worse," the male voice scoffed, and a mouth appeared to go along with it. Then hair, long, and thick and blond, tumbling down over a pale face that had suddenly come into being. The scene around them faded, and Eleanor found herself in a misty place, full of white smoke. She looked around, interested. Eleanor had never had a stereotypical dream before. Out of the smoke, came the eyes, and the hair, and the face, and (unfortunately) the mouth, all attached to, what she saw now, was a very, VERY familiar boy.
"Hey!" she squeaked indignantly. "You're me!"
"No, you've got it backwards," said the boy, looking irritated. "You're ME. Like, in MY body."
"Whatever," Eleanor replied, with the quick acceptance that comes with most dreams. "Have you really been to hell?"
"Yeah, an' the devil greeted me personally, shook my hand and told me I was doing a fine job," the boy said sarcastically.
"Stop it," Eleanor ordered. "Or I'll make your body do something stupid."
The boy was silent. But only for about two seconds. "You know it's not fair," he complained. "You get to live it my body-"
"Get to? You mean, HAVE to."
"Shut up, stupid, I'm talking." Obviously the boy didn't care for manners. "Why don't I get to live in yours?"
"Ask the devil, since you know him so well."
"I can't believe you're my replacement." The boy gave her a disgusted look. "You probably won't do any drugs, or drink at all. You'll ruin my rep. And my body won't ever get laid with you in there."
"I can't imagine any self-respecting girl having sex with your body when YOU'RE in there," Eleanor retorted. "And drugs, smoking and drinking are bad for your health. You did them, and look where you ended up."
The two teenagers glared at one another for awhile.
"At least you're mean," he said finally. This did not help things.
"Look, if you have anything important to say, say it now," Eleanor growled. "Otherwise I'll wake up, and you'll be left in the dark."
"Well, you could at least tell me how the guys are. And is Johnny alive?" For a minute the boy dropped the sneer, and looked almost hopeful.
Eleanor crossed her dream arms, noticing happily that they were her own, and not the stupid boy's. "I'm not telling you anything unless you learn some manners and introduce yourself properly."
"FINE," he said through gritted teeth. The boy drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. "I'm Dallas Winston-"
"I know," Eleanor interrupted.
"Ok, now who's being rude?"
"Sorry," Eleanor said sheepishly.
"I'm Dallas Winston," the boy started again. "And, uh, who are you?"
'Well at least he's trying,' Eleanor thought. "I'm Eleanor Prop. Pleased to meet you."
"Pleased-to-meet-you." The boy repeated without emotion. "Now will you tell me?"
Eleanor sighed. "Alright FINE. They guys seem okay. I met Two-Bit and Soda and Steve and Tim. I don't know who Johnny is."
Dallas kicked at nothing, then sat down in the mist. He stared at his hands looking so miserable that Eleanor suddenly felt sorry for him.
"They really missed you," she added. "They won't leave me alone."
"Good," he grunted.
"Sodapop is really good-looking," she remarked and Dallas' head snapped up, his eyes wide.
"Don't you DARE!" he yelped. "No way, you cannot EVER make a move on any of them while you're me, if you do I'll…" he trailed off.
"You'll do what? Throw smoke-balls at me?" Eleanor smirked at him. "Sorry, pal. I can do whatever I want. So you'd better be nice to me." She grinned back at Dally.
And, oh, if looks could kill…
"Look, don't…" Dallas sighed, defeated at last. "PLEASE don't make a move on them, okay?"
"Okay," Eleanor agreed. "I've sworn off boys anyway. You guys are all stupid, immature animals obsessed with your crotches." Dally's mouth dropped open and his eyes looked furious. But Eleanor was already beginning to feel light-headed. "Well, I'll see you later," she said cheerfully. "I've got to wake up now."
"Wait!" Dallas shouted, lunging for her, but Eleanor was already floating away from dreamland, and back into the world.
"Sodapop here I come!" she yelled, for Dally's benefit. His agonised swearing was music to her ears. She woke smiling, and noticed, with much joy, that there was not a reporter (nor a motorbike) in sight.
A/N: I had to hold the humour a little for this. Lemme know if it sucks? Thanks for reading!
P.S. I have nothing against guys, or reporters. Really I don't! Sorry to anyone who gets offended.
~
When Two-Bit woke he was lying on a plush leather couch. Wherever he was, it was warm, and he didn't feel much like getting himself up. But he wasn't exactly in a position to lie back and relax. Forcing his eyes open, he looked around the dimly lit room for his abductors.
"Hello?" he called apprehensively. For a moment nothing happened, then he heard the sound of quick, heavy footsteps pounding on the carpeted floor, making the leaves on the nearby fake plant shake madly. Somewhere, a door creaked and then suddenly, the room was flooded with light. Squinting against the glare, Two-Bit shoved off the couch. A slim man with thick glasses and short salt-and-pepper coloured hair stood blinking and wringing his hands in his long white lab coat.
Two-Bit felt a sudden urge to rush the man and grab him by the collar of his coat. He was pissed. Nobody drugs a greaser and gets away with it. He was about to jump the guy when a sudden, unbidden though occurred to him: the man could tell him what this was all about. Promising himself that he'd get even later, Two-Bit decided to give the man a chance.
"You're awake!" The man smiled, a little nervously. "Well, ah, would you like something to drink?"
Two-Bit realised that he was parched. "Yeah sure," he said, and the man crossed the room quickly, to where a water-filled plastic jug stood on a table. Two-Bit followed, noticing with surprise that the man was several inches taller than he was. The man was so rabbity and scared looking that he appeared to be very short.
"Here," said the man, handing him a cup. Two-Bit accepted, and quickly gulped down the water. It occurred to him halfway through that the water could have been drugged too, and he gave himself a swift mental kick for taking anything from these people.
"What do you want from me?" Two-Bit demanded once he'd finished his drink.
The rabbit man gave him a twitchy smile. "Follow me," he said, and hurried back to the door through which he had come. Two-Bit found himself in a long, marble hallway, its whitewashed walls strongly resembling those of the hospitals. There were several white-painted closed doors on both sides of the hallway, but the man ignored them, leading Two-Bt quickly to the end of the hall. Here, the pattern of doors was broken. The wood of these pair of ornate doors was a dark chestnut colour, and the trim was full of intricate little carvings. A brass plaque embedded in the wood read clearly: MEETING ROOM.
The man hovered around the door for a minute; obviously he didn't really want to go in. Two-Bit decided to give him a hand. He reached forward and grasped the shiny brass doorknob, with every intention of turning it. The man reacted instantly, reaching forward and slapping Two-Bit's hand.
"Hey!" Two-Bit cried indignantly.
"Don't touch." The man turned to his side where a little white box was attached to the wall. Two-Bit watched, fascinated, as the man pressed one of the buttons on the box and began speaking rapidly into a small hole.
It was all very strange and alien. Somewhat like as if Two-Bit had been thrown into the future.
'What the hell is going on?' he thought watching the man speak.
But the box quickly left his mind, because the doors opened at that moment. A tall, strong looking man with thick blond hair clad also in a white lab coat peered through the crack in the door at them.
"Is this him?" he asked in a whisper, nodding at Two-Bit. The rabbit man nodded, and they were quickly admitted.
The room was unlike any the greaser had ever seen. It was huge, for starters, and the windows were tall, looking out at a magnificent view the sunset over a slow moving river. Two-Bit craned his neck, trying to spot any other signs of humans in the wilderness outside the building.
"Ahem. Mr. Matthews?" someone said. Two-Bit turned his gaze to the shiny wood table, and suited men sitting in front of him.
"Uh, yeah, that's me," he said, feeling out of place.
"Have a seat," an old man with a familiar white moustache gestured at an empty chair. Two-Bit stared.
"Mr. V! Hey, what the hell is going on here?" Two-Bit demanded, outraged. So that Mr. Vanviera was behind all this! [Had you not guessed.]
"Mr. Matthews, there's no need to make a scene-"
"It's Two-Bit," the greaser interrupted, "and yeah, there is a need to make a scene. What the hell am I doing here?"
"We wanted to offer you a short-term job, Mr. Matthews," said another man, with hair greased almost as much as Steve's. He smiled and stroked his chin. "But we wanted to make sure you wouldn't refuse."
Large, meaty hands clamped down on both the greaser's shoulders. Two-Bit looked up and found himself staring at the tallest, most muscular man he'd ever seen, wearing a police uniform. Sharp brown eyes glared down at him, and Two-Bit swallowed nervously, wishing desperately that Darry were here to protect him.
"What's my job?" Two-Bit asked meekly.
Mr. Vanviera stood instantly, beaming. "Good boy, I knew you'd co-operate."
'Then why'd you drug me,' Two-Bit thought.
"Mr. Matthews-"
"Two-Bit," he said through gritted teeth.
"You've met Dr. Wittles," Mr. V motioned at the rabbit man. "And this is Dr. Burgman." The blonde-haired man nodded at Two-Bit, but his gaze was on Mr. Vanviera. "They were the scientists who created the equipment that brought your friend to life."
Two-Bit opened his mouth. "Oh. Hi." There was nothing much to say to that.
"Your job is simple." Mr. V leaned forward, fixing the greaser with a piercing stare. "Just do whatever you did that day you revived, uh, Dallas Winston." The room seemed to shudder at his name. Two-Bit caught one man gagging.
Then the full meaning of what the man said hit him. "WHAAAAATTT?!" he yelped. "I can't do that! I ain't no doc…" The muscled man gripped his shoulders tight. "Uh…look, there's gotta be a mistake," Two-Bit pleaded. He couldn't bring people back to life. He wouldn't! Unless…
"There's been no mistake," Mr. Vanviera informed him. "We'll pay you for it," he added. "This project needs a certain person to do what you did. If you don't take this job, nothing will work, the project will go down, the hospital will collapse along with the economy…"
Two-Bit stopped listening. He'd already made up his mind what to do.
"Okay, I'll do it…" he paused. "On one condition."
The men looked up, sceptical looks on their faces. "What would that condition be," one of them asked wearily. They'd been prepared for this, but they'd also hoped that the greaser wouldn't ask for too much. One by one they reached for their chequebooks.
"Not money," Two-Bit said quickly. "I want to bring back this one person first. He was a friend," Two-Bit paused. The men were giving him strange looks, but they were noticeably relieved that he didn't want more money.
"Well, what's the person's name?" Dr. Burgman asked, flipping open a large folder. "I'll see if we have him."
Two-Bit grinned, all thoughts of his mugging and the muscled policeman gone from his mind. "His name is Johnny – John Cade."
~
"What was the first thing you thought when you first woke up?"
Eleanor was running. She was terrified and running as fast as her legs could carry her, which didn't seem to be fast enough at all. Millions of reporters on motorbikes were chasing her, shouting questions to the wind.
"Help!" she screamed. "Help me!"
Electricity flashed, and then Eleanor was surrounded, the yells of the inquiring reporters swirling around her.
"This is hell," she said wildly, "for sure. I really died, and now I'm in hell."
"Wrong," said a bored voice. "You're not in hell. I've been there, and it's not this nice." A pair of familiar jean-blue eyes popped up beside her. They turned themselves to face the many squabbling people. "I've seen worse," the male voice scoffed, and a mouth appeared to go along with it. Then hair, long, and thick and blond, tumbling down over a pale face that had suddenly come into being. The scene around them faded, and Eleanor found herself in a misty place, full of white smoke. She looked around, interested. Eleanor had never had a stereotypical dream before. Out of the smoke, came the eyes, and the hair, and the face, and (unfortunately) the mouth, all attached to, what she saw now, was a very, VERY familiar boy.
"Hey!" she squeaked indignantly. "You're me!"
"No, you've got it backwards," said the boy, looking irritated. "You're ME. Like, in MY body."
"Whatever," Eleanor replied, with the quick acceptance that comes with most dreams. "Have you really been to hell?"
"Yeah, an' the devil greeted me personally, shook my hand and told me I was doing a fine job," the boy said sarcastically.
"Stop it," Eleanor ordered. "Or I'll make your body do something stupid."
The boy was silent. But only for about two seconds. "You know it's not fair," he complained. "You get to live it my body-"
"Get to? You mean, HAVE to."
"Shut up, stupid, I'm talking." Obviously the boy didn't care for manners. "Why don't I get to live in yours?"
"Ask the devil, since you know him so well."
"I can't believe you're my replacement." The boy gave her a disgusted look. "You probably won't do any drugs, or drink at all. You'll ruin my rep. And my body won't ever get laid with you in there."
"I can't imagine any self-respecting girl having sex with your body when YOU'RE in there," Eleanor retorted. "And drugs, smoking and drinking are bad for your health. You did them, and look where you ended up."
The two teenagers glared at one another for awhile.
"At least you're mean," he said finally. This did not help things.
"Look, if you have anything important to say, say it now," Eleanor growled. "Otherwise I'll wake up, and you'll be left in the dark."
"Well, you could at least tell me how the guys are. And is Johnny alive?" For a minute the boy dropped the sneer, and looked almost hopeful.
Eleanor crossed her dream arms, noticing happily that they were her own, and not the stupid boy's. "I'm not telling you anything unless you learn some manners and introduce yourself properly."
"FINE," he said through gritted teeth. The boy drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. "I'm Dallas Winston-"
"I know," Eleanor interrupted.
"Ok, now who's being rude?"
"Sorry," Eleanor said sheepishly.
"I'm Dallas Winston," the boy started again. "And, uh, who are you?"
'Well at least he's trying,' Eleanor thought. "I'm Eleanor Prop. Pleased to meet you."
"Pleased-to-meet-you." The boy repeated without emotion. "Now will you tell me?"
Eleanor sighed. "Alright FINE. They guys seem okay. I met Two-Bit and Soda and Steve and Tim. I don't know who Johnny is."
Dallas kicked at nothing, then sat down in the mist. He stared at his hands looking so miserable that Eleanor suddenly felt sorry for him.
"They really missed you," she added. "They won't leave me alone."
"Good," he grunted.
"Sodapop is really good-looking," she remarked and Dallas' head snapped up, his eyes wide.
"Don't you DARE!" he yelped. "No way, you cannot EVER make a move on any of them while you're me, if you do I'll…" he trailed off.
"You'll do what? Throw smoke-balls at me?" Eleanor smirked at him. "Sorry, pal. I can do whatever I want. So you'd better be nice to me." She grinned back at Dally.
And, oh, if looks could kill…
"Look, don't…" Dallas sighed, defeated at last. "PLEASE don't make a move on them, okay?"
"Okay," Eleanor agreed. "I've sworn off boys anyway. You guys are all stupid, immature animals obsessed with your crotches." Dally's mouth dropped open and his eyes looked furious. But Eleanor was already beginning to feel light-headed. "Well, I'll see you later," she said cheerfully. "I've got to wake up now."
"Wait!" Dallas shouted, lunging for her, but Eleanor was already floating away from dreamland, and back into the world.
"Sodapop here I come!" she yelled, for Dally's benefit. His agonised swearing was music to her ears. She woke smiling, and noticed, with much joy, that there was not a reporter (nor a motorbike) in sight.