Disclaimer: I don't own Charlie's Angels or the Santa Monica Promenade.
A/N: Thanks a bunch to Scarr C for putting up three reviews; glad to see you're reading!
XI
Another Attack in Santa Monica
Dylan and Anthony
As we drove down the freeway, I looked over at Anthony's suit and suddenly thought of something. "Maybe we should stop at your home," I said out loud. "Get some clothes for the next couple of days
He glanced over at me and then nodded. He swerved across the freeway and got off at the first exit we came to. At the red light, Anthony seemed to take in his surroundings before turning to the right.
After driving for about ten minutes, we pulled up at an old brick building.
I glanced around; this area looked to have mostly industrial buildings. "Where do you live?" I asked, confused.
Not answering me, Anthony got out of the car and walked to the steel door of the building. There was a fingerprint id panel, and he placed his hand on it. There was a beeping noise and then the door swung open.
I had walked up to Anthony, and was surprised to look inside and see that the room in front of me was empty. I stepped inside and I saw the metal staircase to the right of the door.
Anthony closed the door behind him and walked past me to the stairs, motioning for me to follow him.
The second floor of the building was his apartment. There were four rooms; a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and a family room.
"I'm going to take a shower and change," Anthony signed to me.
"Okay, I'll stay out here and wait for you," I said. He nodded and left, and I found myself looking around the room.
All I could say about it was that it was white and extremely clean. The only color in the room was two black leather armchairs. No paintings, no books or television.
Despite the ordinary look of the room, I found myself liking this place. It suited Anthony's personality really well. And as I sat down in one of the armchairs-I could see how the white would soothe him after come back from killing someone.
I leaned back and closed my eyes. I must have nodded off, because the next thing I knew, Anthony was shaking me by my shoulders. "How long was I asleep?" I asked, rubbing my eyes and stifling a yawn.
"Not long," he signed. He had a black duffel bag on the floor next to him. "I'm ready to go," he then signed.
We left the building, Anthony making sure the door was locked. I was about to hand him the car keys when he stopped me.
"I've driven enough. And it's your car anyway," he signed.
With that, I got into the car and we continued on to Santa Monica.
Anthony
He had never liked being around large groups of people. The only time Anthony allowed himself to go to crowded places when he was protecting Dylan.
This was a different situation, however. He was going willingly into a crowded place this time. And he was going out to eat with Dylan; it was almost like a first date.
After Dylan had parked on a quiet street block from the Promenade, Anthony held his cane in his left hand.
"There's a restaurant about halfway down the Promenade," Dylan said. She walked over to the sidewalk where Anthony was standing. "Do you like Indonesian food at all?"
Anthony shrugged and signed, "Never had it."
"I think you'll like it," Dylan said. She took his hand and entwined her fingers with his.
They walked to the restraint in silence, but Anthony kept glancing down at their hands, clasped together.
Dylan
Dinner turned out to be a lot of fun. The restaurant we went into was only big enough for six people to eat in. I ended up having to teach Anthony how to eat his food with chopsticks. And the best part was we had a long conversation about what we liked best about California.
When we had finished, we strolled around the Promenade for a while before we headed back to my car. We were passing a movie theater when a large amount of people started coming out.
Somehow, I was separated from Anthony. I looked around for a few moments, but I didn't see him. All of a sudden, my arm was grabbed and I felt the small sting of a needle being injected into my arms. The next thing I knew, I was being dragged off to the alley behind the theater.
I turned around, and came face to face with one of the thugs who had attacked me before.
Before I could react, this man wrapped his hands around my throat and began squeezing, hard.
I was starting to feel the effects of whatever he had injected me with. My arms and legs were going numb, and all I could do was move my fingers slightly.
"Got a message from 'J,'" the thug said with a British accent. "You 'ave two more days to investigate. Good luck Angel." He started to squeeze even more tightly.
I opened my mouth to try and yell for help, but all that came out was a wheezing sound.
Out of nowhere, a familiar black cane swung by and hit the thug hard on the head. He fell to the ground, unconscious and his head was bleeding.
Now that I had been let go of, I breathed in deeply. When I exhaled, a horrible rattling sound came from my throat.
Anthony helped me stand up and then he saw that I couldn't walk too well. He put his arm around my waist and led me back to the Promenade.
When we got closer to my car, the numb feeling went away from my limbs. I told Anthony that I could walk, but he held onto me, ignoring what I had said. Usually I would hate it when a guy tried to treat me like I'm weak. But I was enjoying Anthony's arm around my waist- so I didn't argue about that.
When we got to my car, Anthony signed, "I think it's better if I drove. You need to get your breath back."
I nodded and handed the keys over to him. I got onto the car, and as Anthony drove us back home, I recalled what the thug had told me. "Anthony, the guy who attacked me said we only have two days left until 'J' contacts us again," I said.
He glanced at me and signed, "I have a feeling that 'J' will make sure they aren't found out until they want us to know who they are."
A/N: Thanks a bunch to Scarr C for putting up three reviews; glad to see you're reading!
XI
Another Attack in Santa Monica
Dylan and Anthony
As we drove down the freeway, I looked over at Anthony's suit and suddenly thought of something. "Maybe we should stop at your home," I said out loud. "Get some clothes for the next couple of days
He glanced over at me and then nodded. He swerved across the freeway and got off at the first exit we came to. At the red light, Anthony seemed to take in his surroundings before turning to the right.
After driving for about ten minutes, we pulled up at an old brick building.
I glanced around; this area looked to have mostly industrial buildings. "Where do you live?" I asked, confused.
Not answering me, Anthony got out of the car and walked to the steel door of the building. There was a fingerprint id panel, and he placed his hand on it. There was a beeping noise and then the door swung open.
I had walked up to Anthony, and was surprised to look inside and see that the room in front of me was empty. I stepped inside and I saw the metal staircase to the right of the door.
Anthony closed the door behind him and walked past me to the stairs, motioning for me to follow him.
The second floor of the building was his apartment. There were four rooms; a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and a family room.
"I'm going to take a shower and change," Anthony signed to me.
"Okay, I'll stay out here and wait for you," I said. He nodded and left, and I found myself looking around the room.
All I could say about it was that it was white and extremely clean. The only color in the room was two black leather armchairs. No paintings, no books or television.
Despite the ordinary look of the room, I found myself liking this place. It suited Anthony's personality really well. And as I sat down in one of the armchairs-I could see how the white would soothe him after come back from killing someone.
I leaned back and closed my eyes. I must have nodded off, because the next thing I knew, Anthony was shaking me by my shoulders. "How long was I asleep?" I asked, rubbing my eyes and stifling a yawn.
"Not long," he signed. He had a black duffel bag on the floor next to him. "I'm ready to go," he then signed.
We left the building, Anthony making sure the door was locked. I was about to hand him the car keys when he stopped me.
"I've driven enough. And it's your car anyway," he signed.
With that, I got into the car and we continued on to Santa Monica.
Anthony
He had never liked being around large groups of people. The only time Anthony allowed himself to go to crowded places when he was protecting Dylan.
This was a different situation, however. He was going willingly into a crowded place this time. And he was going out to eat with Dylan; it was almost like a first date.
After Dylan had parked on a quiet street block from the Promenade, Anthony held his cane in his left hand.
"There's a restaurant about halfway down the Promenade," Dylan said. She walked over to the sidewalk where Anthony was standing. "Do you like Indonesian food at all?"
Anthony shrugged and signed, "Never had it."
"I think you'll like it," Dylan said. She took his hand and entwined her fingers with his.
They walked to the restraint in silence, but Anthony kept glancing down at their hands, clasped together.
Dylan
Dinner turned out to be a lot of fun. The restaurant we went into was only big enough for six people to eat in. I ended up having to teach Anthony how to eat his food with chopsticks. And the best part was we had a long conversation about what we liked best about California.
When we had finished, we strolled around the Promenade for a while before we headed back to my car. We were passing a movie theater when a large amount of people started coming out.
Somehow, I was separated from Anthony. I looked around for a few moments, but I didn't see him. All of a sudden, my arm was grabbed and I felt the small sting of a needle being injected into my arms. The next thing I knew, I was being dragged off to the alley behind the theater.
I turned around, and came face to face with one of the thugs who had attacked me before.
Before I could react, this man wrapped his hands around my throat and began squeezing, hard.
I was starting to feel the effects of whatever he had injected me with. My arms and legs were going numb, and all I could do was move my fingers slightly.
"Got a message from 'J,'" the thug said with a British accent. "You 'ave two more days to investigate. Good luck Angel." He started to squeeze even more tightly.
I opened my mouth to try and yell for help, but all that came out was a wheezing sound.
Out of nowhere, a familiar black cane swung by and hit the thug hard on the head. He fell to the ground, unconscious and his head was bleeding.
Now that I had been let go of, I breathed in deeply. When I exhaled, a horrible rattling sound came from my throat.
Anthony helped me stand up and then he saw that I couldn't walk too well. He put his arm around my waist and led me back to the Promenade.
When we got closer to my car, the numb feeling went away from my limbs. I told Anthony that I could walk, but he held onto me, ignoring what I had said. Usually I would hate it when a guy tried to treat me like I'm weak. But I was enjoying Anthony's arm around my waist- so I didn't argue about that.
When we got to my car, Anthony signed, "I think it's better if I drove. You need to get your breath back."
I nodded and handed the keys over to him. I got onto the car, and as Anthony drove us back home, I recalled what the thug had told me. "Anthony, the guy who attacked me said we only have two days left until 'J' contacts us again," I said.
He glanced at me and signed, "I have a feeling that 'J' will make sure they aren't found out until they want us to know who they are."