Disclaimer: Still not mine.

A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! Oh and P.S, thanks to everyone who has reviewed since my last update: Turner, A.E Hall, xxxjodiexxx, cheekybumbum, w1cked angel, lovestoread, Nelle07, A Bit, Azul Tigress, Rayvin813, West Trekker, Lumnia, Grenade Jumper, Barb, and Libretto!

Four - The Job

Life's funny, really. Like, when you think things just couldn't possibly get any worse than they already are something almost always comes along to prove you wrong. I guess in my case that thing is Lash.

He immediately ducked through the crowd, leaving me to scramble after him and wonder if I had long to go in this world. Of course it did occur to me that I could simply leave. Sure, I could just turn around, go home and spend the rest of the night planning a new way to follow Lash around. No problem. Only I'd already said I'd do whatever it was Lash had planned and somehow I didn't think backing out of my word was going to be good for my health.

I scrambled after him, elbowing my way through the mass of bodies. I caught up with him standing a short way from the security lining the bar area.

"Lash, what –" I started to say, but he interrupted.

"We need a distraction," he told me, eyes scanning over the crowd behind us. "Watch that guy."

I followed Lash's gaze to see the huge drunken man who had knocked me over earlier. He had stumbled his way over to the middle of the dance floor where he was bobbing up and down in a ridiculous imitation of dancing. But even as I watched him he staggered, flinging his arms out and whirling them in circles in an attempt to keep his balance. I gasped as he went down, taking those in his immediate presence with him.

From the corner of my eye I saw Lash's arm return to its normal length.

I barely had time to wonder at the questionable effectiveness of the distraction when there was an angry yell, followed by a stuttered apology cut off by a wild punch. It took about three seconds for the situation to become a fully blown brawl.

Distraction indeed.

Bodies were flying everywhere, limbs flung through the air to connect with unsuspecting jaws, the singer of the band threw himself off stage to join the fight. In short it was pandemonium. And I was actually a little impressed that Lash had been able to cause it all with barely a flick of the wrist. Well, impressed and disgusted.

"Don't just stand there."

My eyes felt like giant saucers and I was pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to move even if I tried. Lash, on the other hand, seemed to be operating on some preconceived plan. Before I could react he had roughly tugged the tie out of my hair, leaving it to fall about my shoulders, and strolled over to the bar as if he owned the place. The majority of security guards had run off to either stop or join the brawl, leaving Lash with an open field.

I had no idea what he was doing. Surely, surely, he hadn't dragged me into this just so he could buy a shot of bourbon for his coke? My mind informed me that if this was the case I had just made the sort of mistake that makes Uwie Boll movies look like innocent misunderstandings.

I was still staring, my head feeling a little too light as it followed Lash's progress across the floor. Basically, I was shocked. No, I think I'd moved on from shock to horror, actually. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me that this was wrong, wrong, wrong! What had I been thinking?! Why had I agreed to this? And, come to think of it, Lash still hadn't bothered to tell me what 'this' was.

Walk away, Alissa, walk away right now!

Lash glanced at me over his shoulder, smirk in place, obviously taking enjoyment from my complete lack of. He tossed me a wink before sliding neatly over the bar top and disappearing from view.

"Oh great," I muttered out loud, senses returning in a rush.

There was nothing for it, I knew what I had to do. Trying to look as casual as possible, I hurried over to the last spot I'd seen Lash. Peering over the high, polished wood I could see nothing at first but the continuing floor on the other side. Then Lash's form materialized, crouched low in the shadows. He seemed to be lost in concentration, he didn't even notice my frantic arm waving or desperate pleas to get out of there.

I looked up and down the bar. Despite the almost epic fight going on in the background, a lot of people were still milling about, not to mention all the bartenders. There was no way I was ever going to get over without someone noticing.

A split second later most of the neatly stacked glasses were sent crashing to the ground in a shower of glittering, jagged pieces. I distinctly saw my hair tie lying innocently alongside the mess. Oh God, did that mean I was indirectly responsible for a crime? There wasn't much time to ponder the thought, though, as everyone's attention was drawn to the 'accident', I scrambled unceremoniously over the bar, dropping down right beside Lash.

"What are -?" I tried to ask again, but he waved an impatient hand at me.

"See the door?" he whispered, jerking his head in its direction. "We need that key." He pointed. I think my lungs collapsed a little.

It was a small key, tarnished silver, and it glimmered tauntingly on a hook exactly two centimeters from the closest bartender, still serving drinks while his colleagues rushed to clean up.

"Lash, no!" I hissed. "You've had your laugh, let's just go. We aren't supposed to be back here! We could get in so much trouble!"

Predictably, Lash ignored me. "Hurry up and get the key, sidekick."

"What?!"

Lash mock pouted. "I thought we were a team."

I frowned with indignation. "I am not helping you! You're practically breaking the law! Starting a brawl, destruction of property, breaking and entering, and let's not forget the –"

Lash super-stretched his arm past me, snaking it past the bartender and grabbing the key easily. No one noticed. That's justice for you.

"Quick." Lash jammed the key in the door, already rattling the handle, and yanked it open. He pushed me inside, slamming the door behind him and relocking it.

It was as if someone had flicked the switch to mute. There was a vague sense of movement and noise coming from outside, but it had become a dim pulse, distant and unimportant. It was also pitch black. I waved my hand in front of my face, nothing.

It occurred to me that being shoved into a dark room by a criminal-wannabe probably wasn't something a girl should experience often… or, you know, at all. It was like the plot of a cheesy horror movie, except I wasn't a cheerleader. Still, it was a bit disconcerting knowing that Lash was in this room somewhere but not being able to see him. Just a bit.

I stretched my hands out warily, feeling around for my surroundings. I found a waist-high something. And screamed.

I was having mental images of my own funeral when the overhead light switched on.

I felt like a bit of an idiot standing in the middle of the now well lit room, one outstretched hand on the back of a randomly placed chair. I quickly cleared my throat, trying to hide the blush that was threatening to rise.

Luckily Lash was too busy poking around to pay me any attention.

It was obvious that this was the backroom. A jumble of coats and bags belonging to the bar staff hung from hooks near the door, there was a lunch table and a TV, an assortment of coffee mugs and all the usual things you would expect people to have at work. Then there was row upon row of spare glasses glinting dully in the light, electrical tape wound around an alarmingly large bundle of different colored wires, a stack of promotional VIP cards, cartoons of alcohol stacked high against the far wall… and, of course, a safe.

Lash, who had been examining the boxes of alcohol a little too closely for my liking, suddenly ripped one open, pulling out several bottles of beer and stowing them away under his jacket. I stared at him hopelessly. "Lash," I said warily. "You dragged me all the way back here to steal beer?"

Lash snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, sidekick. I also came for the money."

"Money?" I repeated weakly, somehow unable to believe that this could be happening. I mean, there was no way Lash was simply robbing this place. No way. It had to be some sort of misunderstanding. "What are you talking about?"

He twisted the cap off a bottle and, taking a deep swig, didn't answer. Instead he dropped to his knees in front of the safe, squinting at the combination lock. If someone walked in now we would be trapped, caught red handed. I wondered why my parents would say when they had to bail me out of jail. How do I get myself into these situations?

Lash gave the lock an experimental twist.

"No!" I hissed, dashing across the floor and almost knocking the random chair over. "No way!" I pushed my way between him and the safe, managing to hit his nose with my knee. A part of me was waiting for him to start laughing and announce that this was all a big joke. It was getting less and less likely.

"Get out of the way," he said calmly.

"Lash, please!" I begged desperately. "You can't just rob them!"

"Look," he rocked back on his heels, shrugging his shoulders up at me, "I was born with superpowers. I need cash. It doesn't take a genius to work it out."

I stared down at him incredulously. Has he seriously never heard of a paper route? "No, you're right," I folded my arms, "it takes a villain."

"Villain, hero," he said flippantly, pushing me aside, "We all end up the same in the end."

"So, you and Speed were planning on becoming petty thieves?"

"What can I say?" he grinned. "We aim high."

He got to work, pressing his ear against the metal like they do in movies, spinning the dial round and round, waiting for a faint click. I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised that he knew exactly what to do to get in here, and how to crack the safe once he was. Supposedly he'd been planning this with Speed for ages. What do their mother's think they do at night?

I watched helplessly, holding my breath, as he gave the lock a final twist and the door creaked open to his shout of triumph. Despite myself, I peered over his shoulder, wondering what was worth all this to get. As he'd said, it was full of money.

Clear plastic bags were stacked haphazardly inside, each full to bursting point with bills. My mouth fell open as Lash started grabbing randomly at them without thought. It went right alongside the stolen beer. I wouldn't be surprised if the jacket was stolen too. In fact, who knows! Maybe he's a big time crime lord with a ring of associates who all refer to him as 'The Shark.'

So much for thinking getting to know him would make a difference. If anything it's made it worse. How can I ever convince someone determined on making it on America's Most Wanted before he hits twenty that he'd rather do good?

My thoughts were interrupted by the doorknob turning.

Lash froze, a bag of money falling out of his hands. My head snapped around so fast I distinctly heard my neck crack. Oh God! There was a bang that sounded uncomfortably like a fist knocking repeatedly on wood.

"Who's in there?" a male voice yelled.

Lash's arm super-stretched across the room to the light switch, plunging us back into complete darkness. I was actually thankful that he'd locked the door behind us. I could hear my own shallow gasps as the man on the other side rattled the handle violently.

"I don't want to die!" I whimpered.

"Shut up," Lash's voice growled at me from somewhere on my left, "and you'll be fine."

Fine?! "Fine?" I repeated out loud in a hissing whisper. "How can you describe anything about this as 'fine'? This is the least fine I've ever been in my entire life!"

"Hey!" the man on the other side shouted, and it sounded as though he was moving away from the door. Oh please let the fight have spilled over onto the bar! "Someone get me the spare key to the backroom. I swear there's someone in here."

I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the scream that threatened to burst out. They were going to come in!

"Lash!" I cried, still keeping my voice low, not sure how far away he was. "Lash, what are we going to do?"

"There's that 'we' again, sidekick." He sounded faintly amused, as if we weren't exactly where we weren't supposed to be. I heard the echoing bang of metal on metal that meant he'd slammed the safe door closed. Obviously while seeing fit to cut the lights, he saw no need to keep quiet. The temptation to yell at him was almost overwhelming.

"Did you put the money back?" I asked wildly, thinking for a second that he couldn't possibly be that stupid…

"No way!"

Then again...

They were banging on the door again, threatening something about cops and baseball bats that would be making imminent contact with our faces. I felt like crying.

There was a cluttered crash and a string of swearing that meant Lash was making his way across the room in the dark. I think he'd just found that chair. Suddenly, whilst I was in the middle of wringing my hands, a shaft a metallic, silver light cut across the cement floor, turning everything into half-shadows.

Lash had pulled aside a small curtain hiding a window that led directly onto the street. It was set high in the wall – he'd had to climb on top of the lunch table to reach it – but it was big enough to crawl through. Even as I stared a pair of feet in red high heels clicked past, a skirt swishing after them.

I hurried over as he attempted to crack it open, throwing all his weight against the rusted frame. Behind us were more yells for the spare key.

"Hurry, Lash," I begged, glancing at the still-locked-but-for-how-long door. "Please, hurry!"

The window wasn't budging. Lash definitely wasn't bothering with keeping his voice down now, cursing at it like it was a hundred feet away. In the new light I could see sweat forming on his upper lip.

"Finally!" the voice outside exclaimed. "Bout bloody time one of you got it!"

I had never really paid attention to the sound a key makes when it fits into a lock, until then that is. It's tiny, like mice feet on carpet or something; an invisible click and scrape that means it's all about to come to an end. It was enough to make my blood run cold.

Lash squared his shoulder, jamming it against the window one last time…

It opened.

I could already feel the air on my face. Cars and pedestrians and neon lights. The bad side of town had never been so welcoming! Lash pushed one leg out, throwing a few beer bottles ahead of him. It's nice to think that I rank somewhere below alcohol on his list of things to save. I'll have to make a mental note to never be trapped in a burning building with him.

"Wait!" I cried, seeing that he was about to swing himself completely outside. I grabbed at the table, hoisting myself up, legs coming away sticky where they made contact with my still wet sweater. The door started to open.

For one horrible second I thought Lash was going to slam the window closed in my face, leaving me with a lot of explaining I was nowhere near up to doing. He paused, chewing his lip, brain working furiously. There was no way I'd made it on my own, I wasn't tall enough.

"Lash!" I screamed at him.

He sighed, sticking a hand back in. "Come on, sidekick."

I grabbed it, letting him pull me up and through the window just as a group of bartenders came bursting in. My shins scraped painfully against the sharp pane, and my elbows hit the pavement hard as I landed awkwardly, re-hurting my bruised wrist, but at that moment I didn't care. As my feet slithered out after me I saw Lash, loaded down with beer and money, taking off across the street.

I scrambled up and followed, running as fast as I could. It wasn't fair really; his legs could stretch way longer than mine.

I vaguely recognized his car from all those times I'd seen him in it during the stalking phase. He already had the door open, throwing things in at random, digging frantically through his pockets for his keys. Even as I watched him, he took another swig of beer. I crossed my arms.

"You can't drive!" I informed him. "You've been drinking!"

"Get in the car." He jumped behind the wheel, leaning over to open the passenger side door. I shook my head.

From inside Panic there was a shout that carried across to us and the music suddenly stopped.

"Get in the car RIGHT NOW!" Lash shouted at me.

I slid in wordlessly, pulling the door after me. He'd already taken off, accelerating hard enough to make me clutch frantically at the edge of the seat. I glanced over my shoulder as we speed away; the front doors to Panic were overflowing with bouncers.

I sat back, heart racing. What had just happened? I'd gone to my first (and only) club in the hopes of discovering what a secretly good person Lash was, only to discover that he was even more horrible than I'd imagined! I was an accessory to a crime, I had beer all over my favorite sweater and, worst of all, I probably wasn't going to be home by twelve.

I closed my eyes, hearing nothing but the roar of the engine. I was acutely aware of Lash beside me, but as things were now, I never wanted to see him again. How could I have been so unbelievably stupid! I'd just earned my ride home through petty theft!

Once we hit three blocks away, Lash slowed down, pulling into the curb. He left the motor idling as he turned to me.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

"Corner of Maple and Fairfield Avenue," I stared straight ahead while I told him, blankly watching the rows of houses with all their normal crime-free residents.

"Right."

We sat there in silence since he made no move to keep driving. The fear was leaving me, being slowly replaced by anger. I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth, feeling my breath coming out in short bursts, hot tears building in the corners of my eyes.

"Green," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Okay now I stared at him. "What?"

He shrugged. "My favorite color. Green."

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. A moment later he revved the engine and pulled off, racing through the streets to my house. I just wanted to crawl under my bed and never wake up again. I wanted to forget ever having been bitten by that stupid bug, ever having wanted to be a sidekick. What was the point? I obviously wasn't any good at it, I couldn't even convince my hero to be a hero!

Lash didn't say anything as he stopped outside my house. I half expected him to hand me some money and tell me it was my 'cut' or something. Instead he drummed his fingers on the dashboard as I climbed out and by the time I reached the front porch, he was gone.

My parents were well and truly asleep so I crept up to my room as quietly as possible, pausing only to throw my sweater into the wash. Who cared if my mom saw it and locked me in my room for the rest of my life? I didn't particularly want to leave it anyway.

I kicked off my shoes and lay down on my bed, not bothering to change. My mom had been right all along; I should have just given up. If I was supposed to be a sidekick it would have just happened, instead I'd ruined any chance I might have had. I could only imagine what Principal Powers would have to say about that. No doubt she'd be very disappointed.

That night I dreamt of raging fires again. Only this time, I was holding the lighter.