Oct 10, 2013 - [6:03 pm]
Just outside Arcadia Bay, Oregon

Setting up the bombs was relatively easy, but not fast. We took our time, making sure they were all secure, properly placed, and well-hidden. We checked and re-checked all the details, and it was an hour until we were completely satisfied. Thankfully, we didn't run into any trouble while we were there.

Probably because trouble was waiting for us back to the truck.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Chloe mutters, glowering at both the RV blocking her truck, and at the man leaning against it. "What do you want, Frank?"

"So here I am, driving along, and what should I see?" Frank Bowers drawls, pushing off the side of his rolling home. Dropping a cigarette in the dirt, he grinds it out with one heel and gestures to the pickup. "Chloe Price's personal shitmobile."

"I asked, what the fuck do you want?" Chloe growls.

"What the hell do you think I want, brat? I want my goddamn money."

I'd love for Chloe to keep her cool right now, but I know better than to think she actually will. That's why I'm not particularly surprised when she pulls the envelope of cash from her pocket and waves it at him. "It's right here, motherfucker! Three grand! And this is as close as you're ever gonna get to it!"

Maybe Frank will actually be reasonable?

"You little bitch! You gimme that cash right fucking now!"

I guess not.

"Blow me, Francis!"

Maybe I should try to de-escalate this situation?

"Yeah? How about I just break your fucking arm and take it!"

Too late.

Chloe's eyes flash angrily, and her gun is leveled on Frank before I can say a word. "Fucking try it, dickless."

"Oh, we're doing this again, are we?" He snorts. "How about we just skip to the part where you bitch out, drop the empty gun, and give me that mone-"

The gun barks and a bullet shatters the RV's side-view mirror.

"Holy shit, you crazy bitch! What the fuck are y-"

The next bullet buries itself in the side of the RV. Inside, I can hear Pompidou start barking wildly. It sounds like he's back in Frank's bedroom, though, well away from where Chloe's aiming.

"Call me a bitch again, Frank. I fucking dare you."

"Alright! Fuck!" Raising his hands, Frank takes a deliberate step back. "I'm sorry!"

"You're sorry," she echoes.

"Yeah. I got pissed, but I'm cool now. Shit doesn't have to go down like this. Just put the gun away so we can talk, okay?"

"Talk," Chloe murmurs, staring at him over the sights. The silence stretches out for a long, tense minute. "You really want to talk?"

He looks relieved. He really shouldn't be. "Yeah, I really want to talk."

"Okay, let's talk." She slowly pulls the hammer back. "Tell me you didn't take her from me."

He blinks. "The fuck is that supposed to m-"

She fires again. The round hits less than a foot from Frank's head and he drops to the ground, gawking up at Chloe in disbelief. "Let's try that again, Frank. Tell me you didn't take her from me."

"I don't kno-"

"Don't you dare bullshit me," she interrupts, "Tell me it wasn't happening while me and Rachel were still together."

Frank's eyes go wide. "I..."

"Tell me you weren't fucking her while she was with me!" Chloe screams. The next shot punches a hole in the RV's tire and leaves a nasty gash in Frank's arm on its way.

"Fuck!" he howls, clutching the wound. "You fucking shot me!"

"Not yet, I haven't." She snarls. "Now fucking answer me."

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He's obviously terrified for his life (which is smart, because he probably should be) and thinking there's no right answer (which is also smart, because there probably isn't). After a second, he glances in my direction. "What the fuck?! Do something!"

"I'm pretty sure this one is on you, Frank," I comment, raising my hand a little, ready to rewind if Chloe actually puts a bullet somewhere important. The motion must have caught her attention, because she turns to look at me.

"Hey, Max?"

"Yeah?"

"You'd just take it back, wouldn't you?"

"...yeah," I admit, adding, "Sorry."

"S'fine," she sighs, lowering the gun. "Didn't really wanna kill him, anyway."

"You sure? You could just shoot him in the leg or something."

"What the fuck is wrong with you two?!"

"Shut it!" Chloe snaps, putting a round in the dirt between his legs. Frank wisely shuts it. "It's kinda tempting, but I wouldn't remember anyway. Just do your thing."

"Okay." I give her a sympathetic smile that she won't remember either, then I wind the clock back to before things got out of hand.

"...fuck do you want?" Chloe growls.

"What the hell do you think I want, brat? I want my goddamn mon-"

"Back off, Frank," I interrupt, stepping between them.

"Oh, it's you." He snorts. "What, no gun this time? I'm insulted."

"I don't need a gun to deal with you."

"Whatever." He moves to shove me aside. "Get the fuck outta my w-omph!"

It's weird how no one ever sees a gut punch coming. People always expect someone to swing at their face, but why would I hurt my hand (again) punching Frank in the head when I can hit him in his nice, soft stomach instead? Gasping, as much from shock as from pain, he stumbles backward.

I skip back, keeping my fists up. "We're not looking for trouble."

"Yeah?" he growls. "Well, you fucking found it!" He comes at me swinging, for all the good it does him. A flick of my wrist halts his fist in midair. I rewind things a few seconds, back to when he was still moving backward, and try again.

"Back off," I repeat. "It doesn't have to go down like this."

This time he doesn't even answer before he swings; I stop it and roll things back to before I hit him.

"...no gun this time? I'm insulted."

"Take it easy, Frank. Let's all try and stay calm."

"I'll be plenty calm, so long as I get my fucking three grand!" He glares past me to Chloe. "I want what you fucking owe me, Price!"

"What I owe you?" she shouts from somewhere behind me. "Here's what I fucking owe y-"

I start the rewind before she can draw her gun. As things reverse, I idly wonder how much shorter this conversation would be without all the swearing.

I wish there were a way we could avoid Frank altogether, but who knows how long he's been waiting here for us? Any rewind longer than a few minutes will mean having to go back to get Chloe, and anything more than an hour will undo all the explosives we just placed. It's easier to deal with this here.

"...no gun this time? I'm insulted."

"Let's just talk this out, okay?"

"Fuck off," he growls, trying to shove me again. I shove back. He swings at me, I stop it, and the whole process repeats.

I try to talk him down a couple more times, but he's not listening and I'm actually getting kind of winded. Grumbling, I go back to a second before he tried to shove me and let the rewind go.

Sorry, Frank, but we don't have time for this.

Like before, he never sees the shot to the gut coming. I doubt I'd have gotten away with it if I were a grown man; he just doesn't expect a teenage girl to go on the attack like that. But unlike the first time we did this, I'm not trying to give him a warning. I throw everything I've got into the punch, driving my fist right into the soft spot under his ribs and sending the air rushing from his lungs.

He clutches his stomach, doubling over at the waist. As he does, I step in and swing my fist in a tight, fast right hook.

There's a sweet spot, right at corner of the jaw, that fighters call 'the button' and there's this whole myth about how there's a nerve cluster there and hitting it will instantly knock someone unconscious.

It's complete bullshit. People don't have an off switch. Forget what you've seen in the movies; you can't safely knock someone out. Getting knocked unconscious is really, really bad. If you hit someone over the head really hard and they fall motionless to the ground, it's probably because you killed them.

But even if the nerve cluster thing is nonsense, the reason people still believe it is because getting hit right on that spot hurts like a motherfucker. It feels like someone took out your brain, shook it really hard, and put it back in upside down. And that's definitely how Frank looks as he staggers back with a low moan, stunned, waving his arm in front of him as he tries to regain his balance.

I don't give him a chance to find it. Lunging forward, I grab his right arm and hold it tight across my chest. One of the other girls at the boxing gym showed me this; it's probably one of the simplest throws in the world, but damn does it work.

Swinging my right leg around Frank's, I stomp down between his feet and shove as hard as I can against his left shoulder. The stomping motion slams my leg into the back of his and his knee instantly gives out. Suddenly way off balance, he can't push back against my shove and his upper body goes where I tell it to go. In this case, right into the dirt.

He hits the ground with a faint 'oof', as what little air he had left in his lungs makes a quick exit. Inside the RV, Pompidou starts barking up a storm again.

Before he can even think of catching his breath, I lever his arm around until Frank rolls onto his stomach with a wheeze. Making sure his face is turned away from Chloe, I ruthlessly jam his arm up behind his back, pin it with one knee and lean down to his ear. "If you wanna live, you'll listen close."

Frank Bowers is a lot of things, but he's not suicidal. He's gasping, probably seeing stars, and there's no way in hell he's got the leverage to get free. With a grunt, he gives me an almost imperceptible nod.

"I'm going to make this simple. Chloe has a loaded gun, and she knows about you and Rachel." His eyes widen and I feel him tense up. "You're definitely not her favorite person right now, so do you really think it's a good idea to provoke her?"

He hesitates, then shakes his head slightly.

"Me either. That's why you're going to forgive that debt of hers so I can convince her to call it even."

"The fu-"

"Write off three grand, and you won't have to worry about getting shot in the back one day. Sounds like a pretty good deal to me."

"...fine," he mutters, eventually.

"Smart move. Now I'm going to let you up, and you're going to keep your cool. You start talking shit or try to cause trouble? You'll end up right back here. And if you even think about trying to hurt Chloe?" I reach into his pocket for his switchblade, snapping it open right in front of his face. "I swear to god I'll make you wish she'd shot you."

He turns his head as much as he can, peering me from the corner of his eye, like he's trying to judge how serious I am. A few seconds later, he mutters, "Got it."

I stand up, taking a few steps back as Frank climbs slowly to his feet. "We good here, Frank?"

He glowers at me for a second, then gives a curt nod. "Yeah. We're good."

"The debt?"

He turns to Chloe, who's been watching slack-jawed the whole time, and I can practically hear his teeth grind. "Forget it."

"W-what...the fuck..." Chloe stammers, her eyes jumping from me to Frank, then back. I have to remind myself that from her perspective, the entire 'fight' took less than a minute. Only about six seconds, actually, if you don't include me and Frank's little chat at the end.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Am I okay?! Are you kidding me?! Holy shit, Max! That was fucking epic! You fucking dropped him!" Cackling, she turns to Frank, who's gingerly rubbing his jaw. "She fucking dropped you! Who's the bitch now, Frank? Huh? Who's the bitch now?"

He glares at her, then glances to me. I briefly consider making him say it, but there's no need to be an asshole. He's holding up his end of the deal and he knows what'll happen if he pushes his luck. That's enough for me.

"Come on, Chloe," I say, pulling her toward the truck. "We're done here."

"Hear that, Frank?! We're fucking done!"

"Chloe..."

"Alright, alright." Pulling her door open, she gives him one last sickly-sweet smile. "Bye, Francis!"

She's in the truck before I can say anything, the little smartass. Before I join her, I look back to the RV. "Hey Frank?"

"Fucking what?" he groans, his hand on the door handle.

"Catch." I toss his switchblade back to him, and he snatches it out of the air. "A word of advice? Keep your phone close tonight. And be ready to get out of town in a hurry."

"That a threat, kid?" I clench my fists and take a step toward him; he actually flinches. "Fuck, alright! Chill!"

"It's a warning. When the time comes, get out of town."

"When what time comes?" he asks, doubtfully.

"When it happens, you'll know."

"Oh, is that right?" He crosses his arms, some of his bluster returning.

"You better. Because by this time tomorrow, anyone who doesn't will be long dead." I snap my fingers, pointing to the RV. "Now get that thing out of our way."

I climb into the truck before he can respond, buckle my seatbelt, and look up to find a much calmer Chloe than I expected to see. She doesn't say anything; just looks at me quietly, an odd kind of thoughtfulness in her eyes.

"You okay?" I ask, and she nods. "...something on your mind?"

After a few more quiet seconds, she says, "You didn't kill him."

"What?!" I cry, shocked that she'd think I might. "Of course I didn't!"

"You could've." Before I can respond, she adds, "Don't argue. We both know you could've. But you didn't."

The sound of Frank's RV pulling away is all that breaks the silence as I try to figure out what she means.

"Did I shoot him?" she asks, eventually.

"No."

"I wanted to. After what you told me. About h-him..." Her voice breaks a little. "...him and Rachel. I thought about it, while we were standing there."

"You didn't." She looks unconvinced. "You shot his side mirror, put two bullets in the side of the RV, and shot out one of his tires." I hesitate. "Though that last one did graze his arm, so I guess you shot him a little."

"Oh."

"I made sure Pompidou was okay, though," I add. "He was in the back, barking like crazy."

The tiniest hint of a smile tugs at the corner of her lips before she turns serious again. "Would you have let me kill him?"

"No, never!" I insist, taking her hand. "I was ready to rewind the whole time."

"You're still watching out for me, aren't you?"

"Alwa-" She doesn't let me finish before she leans in to wrap her arms around me.

"Thank you," she whispers, squeezing me tightly.

"You don't need to thank me. I'd never let anything happen to you."

"No. Thank you for being you." She leans back a little, her eyes shining. "It's been years and you're so different and I was afraid you'd be completely different but you're still you."

"I...am?"

"Mhm." She nods, just slightly. "You're Max. You're my Max, who rolls her eyes at my crappy jokes, and tries to keep me from doing stupid shit, and watches me shoot at a drug dealer without letting me kill him and somehow still finds time to make sure his dumb dog is safe." She laughs and pulls me close again. "I really, really missed you, Max. I didn't know how much until I saw you again."

Since I got here, it's the first time she's said that without sounding a little upset. It's like she's finally happy that I'm back instead of angry that I was gone. "I'm sor-"

"No more apologizing." She lightly jabs my shoulder with one finger. "You traveled two years back in time to save my chain-smoking ass. We're square, okay?"

"I guess..."

"We are," she insists. "No arguing."

"Fine," I say, reluctantly.

"Good." She pauses thoughtfully. "Hey, Max?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." It seems like a weird question, and I look down at myself to see why she might think I wasn't.

"No, I mean how are you holding up?" She sighs. "After everything you told us last night. You've had a really rough year, and I want to know if you're okay. Because I'm... not okay. I feel like I'm right on the edge of freaking the fuck out."

"Chloe..."

"But this isn't about me," she rolls over me. "I can hold on until all this is over. I want to know how you're doing."

I swallow heavily. She's looking at me with so much warmth and concern that it makes my heart swell. "I'm...dealing. It's like you said. I can hold on until this is over."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"You know I'm here for you, right? I mean, just cause we're all Mission: Impossible right now doesn't mean you need to carry it all on your own."

"I know, but I can make it another twenty-four hours." I laugh humorlessly. "Then I'm gonna get completely wasted, crawl into bed, and cry for a week."

"Sounds good. Mind if I join you?"

As heavy as this has been, I can't help giving her a little smile. "For the drinking part or the bed part?"

"Well, one usually leads to the other." She chuckles, leaning over to lightly bump our shoulders together. "Seriously, though. Tomorrow we'll find a bottle of tequila or something, go someplace quiet, and just...get everything out. Like all those red lights, for a start. Sound good?"

I wince a bit. "Better make it two bottles,."

"You got it." She regards me quietly for a second. "Hey, would you do something else for me?"

"Anything."

"Say you're amazing."

"You're amazing."

"No, smartass. I want to hear you say that you're amazing."

I cringe. Self-affirmations are like my kryptonite. "Why?"

"Because believe it or not, you are." She gives me a playfully stern look. "But you're also a dumbass who'd never admit it on her own."

"Chloe..." I squirm awkwardly. "Do I have to?"

"You can stall as much as you want, cutie." She crosses her arms, smirking. "But I can wait as long as you can."

My breath catches in my throat. Cutie. She called me cutie. She did it without knowing that's what she used to call me all the time and I'm pretty sure my heart's about to burst and I am not blushing shut up.

"I'm amazing," I whisper.

"Was that so hard?"

"Yes," I say, the tiniest bit petulantly.

"Well, you did it." She leans in. "Because you're amazing."

"Seriously?" Chloe's ability to go from heartwarming to obnoxious in the blink of an eye never ceases to amaze me. "You suck."

"You'd know," she fires back, waggling her eyebrows.

"You shush!" I laugh, playfully shoving her away. "Let's just get going!"

"Okay, okay. No need to get bossy."

I could bask all day in that bright smile of hers, which is a totally romantic and not at all weird thing to think. "Do you want to go break into a government building or not?"

"If I had a bucket list, Maximus, that'd probably be at the top."

"If you think that's good, just wait until I tell you how we're breaking in," I laugh.

"Really?!" I nod, explain the details, and she positively beams. "Max, you are the fucking best!"