A/N Thanks to reviewers!
People were to busy to notice the young man standing stock still, gazing intently at the door of Frank Tenpenny's office. Those who did acknowledge his presence didn't want to disturb the complete, concentrated silence he was in, though he didn't look much of a threat.
Dylan wasn't to sure what he was going to do, it all seemed so simple when he had left Cesar's car, but now, standing in front of his office it was much harder than he ever expected. Though the anger that he had been lied to, a pawn in the twisted game they played made him turn the brass handle. His office was slightly bigger than the others, a brown desk took up most of the room and various cabinets and newspaper cuttings plastered the walls. Tenpenny wasn't alone. A fairly tall man, with quite long sandy coloured curly hair, stood with his back to Dylan. He was dressed in dark grey worn jeans, and a dark blue zippy-up jacket, Tenpenny straightened in his large leather chair from his slouched position and cleared his throat.
'Thank you Adrian that's all we'll be discussing today,' he said in a professional manner, the supposed Adrian turned to face Dylan and nodded. He had a stern expression on his roguish rigid face and his blue eyes to puncture through Dylan's anguished character, he was probably only a few years older than Dylan but the unshaven jaw, and out-of-place scar that lined his temple contradicted this judgement. At first Dylan thought that Adrian had aggressively, accidentally walked into him, but as he apologised the man shoved what felt like a crinkled, cracked, dollar bill into Dylan's splayed hands, automatically Dylan shoved the paper into his jean pocket.
'Where the hell have you been Garnier? I've been ringing your cell all day!' Tenpenny fumed. Dylan remained quite, just staring into Tenpenny's eyes, which seemed to flash suspicion at Dylan's silence, but he settled back into his rant.
'You think you can show up here in your civi's… explain yourself!' Dylan didn't say anything. 'What the hell is wrong with you?' he said slowly.
'
I didn't believe it Tenpenny…your working undercover right?' said Dylan, Tenpenny seemed to freeze.
'Not another one,' muttered Tenpenny, slowly standing up and gathering himself. 'What ever you've seen Mr Garnier, you better forget it now,' he said menacingly, an icy tone that Dylan didn't want to explore further.
'You must be joking…' smiled Dylan, shaking his head.
'Oh, believe me I'm not,' he said quickly, pacing slowly towards Dylan, who kept still.
'The games up Frank, your going down…I reckon for life,' Dylan whispered the last part, Tenpenny was dangerously close to him now.
'People have tried before Dylan…' he pointed to a newspaper cutting, which bore the face of Ralph Pendlebury who had been shot only a few weeks ago, 'and failed…' he finished, smiling smugly. Dylan was taken aback suddenly, but regained his calmness.
'
So who knocked him off, a whacked out Balla?' Tenpenny laughed.
'You'd be surprised, someone a little closer to home…'
'Who?' but Tenpenny didn't want to talk anymore, from nowhere a black baton appeared and swept into Dylan's stomach, delivering a blow that almost knocked him off his feet. He stumbled into the closed door, clutching his winded stomach, waiting for another collision, most likely to be to his head, but Tenpenny threw the baton to one side and grabbed Dylan by the collar of his white t-shirt, his eyes glinting fiercely, subtly smiling, and enjoying the power he had.
'Eddie!' yelled Tenpenny triumphantly 'The tables have turned Dilbert,' he whispered into Dylan's ear. Then, rather spectacularly the door that Dylan was pressed against, disappeared from behind, and both victim and villain fell through the doorway. Tenpenny's grip vanished, and Dylan rolled over his shoulder, a little manoeuvre he had learnt in training, his sneaks making contact with someone's chin. Leaping up back onto his feet, he quickly turned to the exit, swerving and dodging any human obstacles. He grinned when he heard the gutless tone of Pulaski.
'Uhhh…sorry…'
'You fucking idiot!' screamed Tenpenny. Dylan took three steps at a time and made a silent prayer, when he saw that his car (that he had parked in a disabled parking space) hadn't been towed away. Fumbling with his keys, he thrust metal into lock, and chucked himself into the vehicle. He was about to escape the carnage he had created in a cocktail of screeching rubber and groaning mechanics, when there was an urgent rap on the window, and another joined him in the car. A woman hastily sat down, slim, dressed in grey pants and a red strappy top, she was of Chinese ethnicity, black pigtails and her round soft face grew fierce at Dylan's disbelief.
'What the hell are you doing? DRIVE!' she yelled, her accent wasn't the gaudy Los Santos one that Dylan had grown accustomed to hearing, but a slicker and glossier tone. Dylan floored the pedal, still marvelling at her forwardness to invade his car without an explanation. They sped past the small square that gave the area its name 'Pershing' it held various structures and a small pool, where people were enjoying the afternoon sun. Not entirely sure where he was going, he took a right, heading down a main road in the direction of Verona Beach. Glancing quickly into his rear-view mirror, he saw no sign of police cars, not yet anyway. The white sands of the beach came into view and Dylan realised that number 1: he had to get out of Los Santos and number 2: he had to get out of his Oceanic. Narrowly missing a old yellow taxi they turned into the thoroughfare that lay directly parallel to the beach.
'What's your name?' he said breathlessly
'Katie,' she said, looking gleefully at the road stretched in front of them.
'Read this out to me,' he shoved his hand into his jean pocket, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper that had been handed to him earlier. She took it and squinted at the messy handwriting.
'Angel Pine, 9 pm, Cluckin' Bell,' she recited. Dylan lost concentration for a second then snapping back into reality, turned the wheel sharply to dodge a truck, almost clipping a bare-chested roller skater. Katie laughed in delight, Dylan shot her a strange look.
'Where's that?' said Dylan, he had never heard of the place. Katie ignored him for a few moments, staring at him with a look of interest.
'Your on the run right?'
'Uhhh…' It had never really occurred to him that he was on the running from the law.
'Well there's one thing we have in common…' she muttered. Great, Dylan had a fugitive in his car. 'There's a bus that leaves for San Fierro in about…' she looked at her watch, 'ten minutes, it passes through Angel Pine, the bus stops just about 20 metres down the road.'
'Well that's just fucking excellent, maybe we'll reach the city limit before Tenpenny catches up with us!' Katie looked at him wearily, then outstretched her arms, and grabbed the steering wheel, turning it violently.
'What the-!' yelled Dylan, trying to tear her arms away from the wheel.
'Look, I can do this a helluva lot better than you!' she shrieked. They passed a pay n' spray, and entered into a small street. The beach lay stretched out to the left of them, with car parks and beach-huts lining it, to the right shops selling various souvenirs. Katie let go of the wheel, leaving Dylan scrambling for control, and pointed to a small car park.
'Dump this piece of crap in there, everyone does,' she said, Dylan frowned, though it was true, his Oceanic was on its last legs. He brought down his foot on the brakes before they hit an unawares tourist and swivelled into the car park. The car engine died and Dylan let out a huge sigh of relief, Katie just stared at him looking irritated and bored.
'Come on,' she said, Dylan just quickly scanned for his Rock Star jacket that he usually left in the back seat, seizing it and hastily putting it on, hoping that it would offer some sort of protection from the law. Saying a silent farewell, he left his car keys carefully placed on the front seat: it would be stolen with in the hour. He hurried after Katie, who gestured to a graffiti ridden structure.
'The bus stop is just beyond that bridge.' They passed a group of Ballas who wolf whistled as Katie jogged past them, they reached the stop, finally having a moment to rest.
'It should arrive in a few minutes,' she said surveying Dylan, who was on look out for any Police cars.
'Oh no!' whispered Katie, Dylan looked at where she was staring and his eyes widened in horror.
'Hide me!' she yelped.
He opened his mouth to retort, but they hadn't noticed the grey coach that the Police car was trailing behind. This time Katie sighed in relief as the coach stopped with a hiss, Dylan glanced nervously at the cop inside the car. It was Hernandez. Dylan didn't know if Hernandez had noticed him, he didn't stick around on the pavement long enough to find out. Sitting down with Katie on one of the rugged seats, he took one long, last look at Los Santos sprawled behind him, as they headed towards the bridge that separated the Island of Los Santos from San Fierro, wondering if he would ever return.
A/N Thanks for reading, hit that review button!
