This is me answering Aira's question from the reviews; this is not a Triple Treble. I'm doing Aubrey's POV instead of Beca's so that the mission can be understood better. I don't know if there will be yet, but if I do a sequel, then it'll be Beca's POV, along with Chloe's.
Chapter 3
Chloe's POV
"Wow." I say, looking around at the apartment Aubrey's dad got us. It's not much, but it's definitely bigger- and better- than our bunker in Puerto Rico. There's one bedroom, one bathroom, a dining room, a kitchen, a living room, and a laundry room. The walls are an off-white and kind of dirty, but it's nothing a little cleaning can't fix. The furniture is also super old, but it can be replaced. As for the carpet… we're stuck with it. But it has heat and AC, which automatically makes it better than the bunker. Also, it has electricity and a fridge. Oh, and a bathtub! I see our stuff in boxes in the corner, and I sigh in relief.
"Yeah." Aubrey agrees after taking it all in. We take our bags and throw them on the couch. Bree flops down on the couch and closes her eyes. I roll my eyes at her before moving over to the boxes. I grab the top one and use my nail to cut the tape, then slowly open it; clothing. The next five boxes contain the same thing.
When I finally get to the suitcases under the boxes, I see our gear- any gun you could think of, grenades, mini cameras, thick gloves, ear coms, even ski masks.
I jump when my phone starts ringing, almost dropping the AK47 in my hands. I quickly- and carefully- set it down before answering. "Hello?"
"Hi, is this Chloe Beale?" A very chipper voice asks.
"Uh, yes this is. Who am I speaking to?"
"Barden Security. I just wanted to remind you that today is the activities fair? I didn't see the Bellas booth." Oh shit! I signal to Aubrey to get up, taking my jacket off as I do so.
"We're on our way right now! Thank you so much!" I hang up, then look at Aubrey. "We're late to the fair. How are we going to get there?" As if answering my question, a hear a beep outside, followed by a ding from Aubrey's phone. She glances at it, then gives me a reassuring smile.
"There's a rental car outside for us."
"Perfect." We grab our wallets, then head outside. There, I see a 2012 Nissan Altima waiting, along with Captain Bernie.
"Zeke! What are you doing here?" I ask as I walk up. He gives me a small, tight-lipped smile and hands me the key to the car.
"I'm just here to supply you ladies with your car. You know, government connections and all." He steps back and presses his hand to his forehead in salute. "Ladies." He turns and starts to walk away, then turns back. "Good luck." He calls out softly.
I climb into the car and start the engine, grinning at the soft, purr-like sound it makes. "Oh my gosh, she's beautiful."
"It's a car, Chlo." Aubrey rolls her eyes and gets in next to me.
"You really suck, did you know that?" I ask, a fake pout on my face as I turn to look at her. She just rolls her eyes.
"I know."
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When we get to the activities fair, we put our ear coms in. "We'll be right next to each other, but father can give us extra information if we need it." Aubrey says, handing me one.
I nod. "Makes sense." I put it in, then press the button. "Testing, one two, one two."
Aubrey does the same. "Loud and clear, Sergeant."
I laugh and lower my hand. "Yeah, I wish. We're Privates, soldier."
Aubrey too laughs, but it's tenser than mine. "Yeah, I know." She glances away, then says, "Let's get this booth set up. The sooner we find Mitchell, the better."
I sigh, then nod. "Yeah, let's go." I say softly. Aubrey gives me a questioning look, but I shake my head before she can ask. "I'm fine." She offers no response (which I'm grateful for), and we look around until we find the Bellas booth.
"Found it." Aubrey pokes me in the arm and points. All it is is a white table with some flyers- there's no one even there. "File says we're the last two." Bree says, seemingly reading my mind.
"I wonder what your dad's going to do about the fake pukegate from last year? How is he going to convince everyone to act like it was real that should've been there?"
"I have no clue." Aubrey shakes her head. "Now, seriously, we need to get in character." She winks at me, then says, "We have tradition to uphold."
Suddenly, I spot a girl eyeing our booth. I quickly scroll through my phone to see if she's in any extra files, and turns out, she is. Barbra (Barb) Mellisa Johnson, 20 years old, now a senior. As she passes our table, I give her a wide smile.
"Hi, Barb, are you gonna audition this year? We have openings." If she realizes she's never seen me before, she doesn't act on it.
"Oh, now that you've puked your way to the bottom, you might actually consider me?" Aubrey sighs as Barb responds. Obviously, her dad has already gotten to her. "I auditioned for you three times and never got in because you said my boobs look like bologna." She puts her hands on her hips, revealing her breasts, which indeed look like bologna. Aubrey gives her a look that clearly says 'well', and I do my best not to laugh. "The word's out. The Bellas is the laughing stock of a capella. Good luck auditioning this year. Douche b's." With that, she walks away.
"Oh my gosh. This is a travesty!" I look over at Aubrey. "God, if we can't recruit Bologna Barb, then we can't get anybody, let alone Mitchell."
Aubrey sighs. "Take the dramatics down a notch, Chloe. I'm confident that we'll get eight super-hot girls with bikini-ready bodies that can harmonize on perfect pitch."
"Why does super-hot matter?" I ask curiously, dropping my voice down a volume.
"Two reasons: One, we have to keep with tradition. You know, to keep our cover." I nod, and she continues. "Two, I read Mitchell's files. She's bi."
This shocks me a little, and the only thing that I can come up with to say is, "Why don't we just get good singers?"
"What good singers? What?" A blonde, overweight girl walks up to us.
"Hi! Can you sing?" I ask her.
"Yeah." She responds.
"Can you read music?"
"Yeah."
"Can you match pitch?"
"Try me." I look over at Aubrey, and she nods. We go through three different pitches together, and she matches them all, even throwing in a crazy mixture of the three at the end that makes me want to laugh and makes Aubrey give her a weird look between wanting her to stop and laughing. I can't deny it though, the girl can sing.
"That was a really good start!" Aubrey says to her, and I allow myself to let out a small laugh.
"I'm the best singer in Tasmania. With teeth." The girl says, and I finally catch on to her Australian accent. She gives us a smile for emphasis.
"Love it." Aubrey says, an amused smile still on her face.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Fat Amy."
"Um, you call yourself Fat Amy?" Aubrey asks, and I give the Aussie in front of us a confused look. Who would intentionally degrade themselves like that?
"Yeah, so twig bitches like you don't do it behind my back." Oh. Aubrey gives me a slightly confused look, but I nod at her like it makes sense.
"I will… see you at auditions, Fat Amy." Aubrey hands her a flyer.
"I can sing, but I'm also good at modern dance, olden dance, and, uh, mermaid dancing." Aubrey's face turns into one of pure shock at these words, and I can feel my own surprise on my face as well. This girl is full of surprises. "Which is a little different. Usually sat on the ground-" she sits on the ground and moves her upper body around in circles.
"Ooh!" Aubrey says, and I can tell she's trying not to laugh. This is the type of thing we secretly found funny whenever the guys did it back at home, but knew General Posen would beat us for if he knew. "I see that."
"Yeah. Well, I'll keep the rest of my sexy surprises a secret." After struggling to get up, she gives us a very suggestive wink and walks away.
"Alright… that was interesting." Aubrey says once she's gone, and I allow myself to laugh again.
"Right?"
"Now we really need to find super-hot girls." Aubrey's face turns serious again. I sigh and look away, then gasp when I see Beca Mitchell walking in our general direction, not looking at anything in particular. She's in a grey cardigan, a red tank top, and a pair of jeans.
"Ooh, what about her?" I point to her, and Aubrey turns and sees her. She immediately catches on and plays along.
"Ooh, I don't know. She looks a little too alternative for us." Her eye has a twinkle in it, so when Mitchell walks up, I shove a flyer in her face to cover up the fact that my blood is boiling in my veins just by looking at her.
"Hi! Any interest in joining our a cappella group?"
"Oh, right. This is like a thing now." She asks sarcastically, practically laughing in our faces. I inwardly groan at her comment. Of course she's going to be stubborn.
"Oh, totes. We sing covers of songs, but we do it without any instruments. It's all from our mouths." I point to my mouth with my pen, glancing over to see a fake smile plastered on Aubrey's face. It's obvious she's just trying to stick to the plan.
"Yikes."
I decide to ignore the comment as I continue talking, hoping to sway her decision. "There's four groups on campus. The Bella's, that's us, we're the tits." I go through the rest of the groups, and Aubrey and I make a disgusted laugh at the mention of the Treblemakers, the male a cappella group and our supposed enemies. "So, are you interested?"
With that same amused smirk on her face, she says, "Sorry, it's just, it's pretty lame."
"Aca-scuse me?" Aubrey cuts in, and I look down and bite my bottom lip in an attempt not to laugh again. Where the hell did she come up with that word? "Synchronized lady-dancing to a Mariah Carey chart-topper is not lame."
"We sing all over the world and compete in national championships." I add, hoping Aubrey's harsh tone won't scare her away. We need this, more than anything. I need it.
"On purpose?"
"We played the Cobb Energy Performing Arts Center, you bitch." Aubrey responds. I can tell how annoyed she's already getting, so I step in again.
"What Aubrey means to say is that we are a close-knit, talented group of ladies whose dream is to return to the national finals at Lincoln Center this year. Help us turn our dreams into a reality?" I turn my full charm on, hoping it will work.
She falters for a second before she answers, and it's less sarcastic than before. "Sorry, I don't even sing. But it was really nice to meet you guys." With that, she walks away.
"Shoot." I whisper, watching her leave. A wave of disappointment flows through me as I watch my one opportunity to avenge my father disappear.
"What are we gonna do?" Aubrey asks, obviously pissed.
"Well, you calling her a bitch probably wasn't the smartest idea." I tell her, and she sighs, putting her face in her hands.
"I know, I'm sorry. She just already gets on my nerves. To know she's-" She glances around, lowering her voice, "a murderer, and we have to pretend to want her? It makes me sick."
I nod. "I know, Bree." All too well.
Sometimes I think she can read my mind, and now is one of those times. "I'm sorry, Chlo. Obviously, you have more right to be upset than I do. And you're handling it better already."
I sigh again, then decide to be honest with her. "No, I'm not." I look down. "I want to just… kill her. So badly. But we have to get close to her first." Tears well up in my eyes as I look back up at her.
Aubrey simply nods, then pulls me in for a hug. "I know. And I'm proud of you for being this strong."
"Thanks." I whisper, melting into the embrace.
"But…"
I groan. "But?"
"I think it's going to be primarily up to you to get her to join. She already doesn't like me." I glare at her, and she relents a little. "I can try, Chlo. But I think it's going to have to be you."
Another long, annoyed sigh. "Yeah, I know." I pause, then add, a lot quieter than before, "I almost feel like it was a bad idea, coming on this mission." Aubrey just raises an eyebrow, so I continue. "I tell myself I'll keep my emotions in check, but will I?" Betraying me, a tear falls down my cheek. "What if I lose myself? What if I forget who I am?"
"Chloe." Aubrey pulls me in for another hug, and a few more tears escape as a lousily wraps my arms around her waist. "I promise you won't lose yourself. If it starts to happen, I'll be there to bring you back to reality. I swear."
When I pull away, a small smile tugs at my lips. "I really don't deserve you."
"Shut up with that." She says sternly, yet smiles back. "I love you."
"I love you too, Bree."
