John braced himself as Duncan yanked the steering wheel hard left, pulling a U-turn into the nighttime Beverly Hills traffic. A squeal of horns followed them as they left the jewelry district. Judging from sound of Duncan grinding his teeth, John knew better than to comment on the driving. Instead, he asked, "So. They weren't at Tiffany's, Cartier, Van Cleef & Arpels or Harry Winston. Where to now?"
"Amanda is fairly predictable in her tastes. If it's not jewelry, it's fine art," Duncan replied as he maneuvered toward the highway. "You know where the most obvious target is," he answered.
"You mean …" John started to say, "No way … Is she really good enough to rob that place?" he asked incredulously.
Of the three people in the gallery after Jack's gun went off, only two were truly surprised by what happened: Amanda, and Jack. Cameron, who had been hit squarely in the upper chest near where her collarbone would be, was forced to take a slight step backwards after the impact, and she had almost dropped the statue before she firmly tightened her grip on it. Still, while there was clearly blood oozing from the wound and a glint of metal could clearly be seen showing through her flesh, she seemed largely undisturbed by what had just happened.
It was only her long years of experience that kept Amanda from inadvertently screaming Cameron's name in alarm—and from freezing up from the same adrenaline overload that had taken hold of Jack. Still, she reached forward involuntarily for a second before collecting herself. Looking at the man still sitting on his backside with his gun in his hand and his jaw hanging loosely open, she reached down and socked him hard in the jaw, knocking him out cleanly. "Sorry, sweetie," she muttered apologetically.
"What …" began Amanda before closing her mouth. "How …" she tried again before finally settling on, "Are you OK? Are you in pain?" Even Duncan, about as tough as they came, would have felt the pain of a collarbone injury, she realized. And that meant that Cameron was something more than just John's girlfriend tagging along for some free martial arts lessons, she realized.
At Cameron's assurances that she was unharmed, she shook her head a few times to make herself focus. "All right, then," Amanda said. "That shot will bring the police here even faster, and I don't think either of us want that to happen. Let's run."
Duncan supposed he should have been relieved to see he had figured out Amanda's location, and he was, to a certain extent. But that didn't stop him from fuming. As he tried to jimmy the lock on her car door, John put a hand on his shoulder. "Let me," the younger Immortal said.
Taking the tool from Duncan's hand, John wiggled a few times and popped the lock. Immediately, an alarm went off, but reaching in with a deft flick of his wrists, John quickly silenced it. At Duncan's unspoken question, John explained, "I spent quite a few years in the foster system, and quite a few more needing to get away in a hurry from large scary robots without actually owning a car." He smiled caustically. "Well, I got you in. What now?"
"We're going to move the car," Duncan said, an evil smile gracing his lips. "I want to give Amanda a little surprise."
The J. Paul Getty Museum, located in Santa Monica, was designed by noted architect Richard Meier to provide a natural, serene space where visitors could enjoy a variety of great artistic masterpieces in the classic Western tradition. Although originally budgeted for 350 million, by the time the museum and the adjoining buildings on the Getty Center campus were completed, construction costs had spiraled to more than 1.3 billion. The result of this overrun was a campus of incomparable beauty that boasts state-of-the-art security technology—and a very limited budget to pay actual security staff.
As a result, Amanda and Cameron were able to make their way out of the museum without being slowed by any additional encounters with underpaid security staff. Nevertheless, time was of the essence—the police were certain to arrive any minute, now, and so it was that when the two women crested a hill and looked down to where Amanda had parked her car, Amanda's immediately reaction was to yell:
"SHIT! Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no," she moaned. "This CANNOT be happening. Where the hell is the car? Tell me this happening--please tell me this isn't happening!"
Cameron tilted her head. "This isn't happening," she repeated dutifully, only to receive a glare from Amanda.
"Not helping, Cameron," she growled as she tried to think. Looking around, she had to decide—head toward the parking lots and hope that even at this late hour, there would be a car to steal—or take cover in the woods in the distance.
"Eenie, meenie, miney … oh screw it," Amanda muttered. "Come on," she told Cameron as she led the way toward the woods. A few yards later, she stopped short, as if hearing a noise that nobody else could hear. Following close behind her and unable to stop her momentum in time, Cameron crashed into her, her heavy frame knocking the Immortal to her knees. As Amanda stood up, she looked and from behind a tree, a familiar silhouette appeared—tall, male, wearing a familiar trench coat. Next to him, wearing a biker jacket and a slightly bemused expression, was John.
"Amanda!" Duncan ground out between clenched teeth. "Whatever that is that Cameron's carrying, you're going to put it back. Right now."
"But it's mine!" Amanda whined.
"Noooo," Duncan insisted, shaking his head in negation. "No it's not. That is a priceless masterpiece, sculpted by the great artist Auguste Rodin, and it belongs to the Getty Museum."
"It was mine before it ever belonged to the museum!" hissed Amanda. "I'm not putting it back, and I'm not leaving it behind. I have a better claim to it than anybody else ever could!"
"Put it back!" Duncan said, his voice rising as he pointed back toward the museum with one finger.
"What the hell!" John cried as he noticed the bullet hole in Cameron's chest. "Cam! Are you all right? Are you hurt?" Without waiting for an answer, he stepped closer to peer at the wound more closely in the dark.
"Any damage is superficial and I should be able to fully repair it overnight," Cameron told John, even as the youngest Immortal in the group whirled upon Amanda, suddenly enraged.
"What the fuck did you do," he hissed, the voice coming out strangled with anger and emotion. "What did you drag her into?" he asked, advancing upon her, fury blazing in his eyes.
"Now John," Amanda said, backing up nervously from both Duncan and especially from John. "Calm down, no harm was done … I mean, you heard it yourself, Cameron said the damage was superficial, she's going to be fine, and …"
"Did you know that before you went in?" John asked, his voice suddenly icy and quiet.
"Wh … what?" she asked.
"DID. YOU. KNOW. SHE. COULD. TAKE. A. BULLET. TO. THE CHEST!!" screamed John. "Or did you just drag my … my girlfriend … into an art heist not caring that she could be killed!!"
"But she wasn't killed!" Amanda protested. "I mean, look at her! She has metal underneath her skin! I don't know what she is, but she's heavier than a girl her size should be, she's stronger than any girl I've ever met, what the hell is she anyway? Oof!" she added as John suddenly backfisted her, enraged.
"What the hell is she?" John repeated. "What the hell is she?? She's human, she's the girl that I love, and she's not invulnerable!!" he snarled.
"John," Cameron said, urgency in her voice as she used her free hand to grab his arm and calm him.
"No!" John said, shrugging her arm off. "It doesn't matter that you're more durable than any of us, I don't care that your skeleton happens to be made of coltan and you can shrug off handgun fire as if it's nothing.
"The point is that she didn't know that when she dragged you into this mess! And just because it turned out OK for you doesn't excuse what she did." Turning back to Amanda, he advanced toward her again. "And it's not just about me," he hissed. "You have no idea what you put at risk tonight."
"That's enough, John," Duncan said, pulling him back. "Everyone needs to calm down."
"We should leave here immediately," added Cameron. "The police will arrive in approximately 97 seconds."
John looked at Cameron for a moment and nodded tersely, barely able to his emotions.
"This way," Duncan said, motioning toward where he had hidden his car.
Moments later, they were gone.
Author's Note:
It should go without saying that I don't actually know anything about breaking into museums of any kind and even less about breaking into the Getty Museum (which I've never even been to.) A loose version of how Amanda breaks in is based off of an X-men fanfic written by a certain Valerie J called "Blind Sight," available on this site. I highly recommend it.
I should note that I do not ever believe in hitting a woman, even one as infuriating as Amanda, except in the context of a martial arts training session. John will be making amends for that at some point in future chapters.
Once again, thanks to all who read and especially thank you to all who reviewed.