A/N: Another chapter, and another episode split into two parts. It keeps getting better--and longer. Yeah, I was in a rut all day, and I couldn't wrap my head around a certain little nuance in Dollhouse. Not saying though, just because I don't feel like it. If you're keeping track of the actual TV series, did you find this episode confusing, because I sure as hell did! I was like, WHAT THE HELL?! WHAT THE FUCK?! HOLY CRAP! Yeah, but it comes with the territory. I guess the new eps are going to be even more confusing. Well, enjoy this for now. So review when you're done, disclaimer is in the first chapter, and away we go!
PS: Sorry! Almost forgot to type it in: I published a new fic for Dollhouse if you want to check it out. I've reached 100 hits in two days if it makes you feel any better. Not that it would, just...if you have anything to say, please say it in a review. I have a bunch of hits, but no one is typing what they think! So please, find it in your heart to review--or not, if you're not interested, I really wouldn't know.
In Los Angeles, in the El Capitan theater (which had changed over the past eight years; it now had a section for small concerts, not just movies), famous singing star Shania Gold was wearing a metallic silver colored bra top and a silver colored wrap that just barely covered her butt, but it jangled when she walked—or in this case, danced. She was also wearing suede boots that went up to the middle of her calf. Today was kick-starting her US tour, but they changed the choreography to better fit the small stage in the theater. One of the backup singers was standing near a section where there were flames going off, and in the middle of one of Shania's songs, the backup singer caught on fire. She wasn't injured, but it was enough to scare her shitless.
"I QUIT SHANIA! I QUIT!" She screamed after the show, and then left to a dance studio to get her things and return to her normal life as a struggling singer. Shania just stood there, emotionless, and someone might've interpreted it as Shania being her diva self and not caring who quit or who was fired. But one dancer didn't interpret it as such: Leshawna Kasine, leader of her own group of dancers who danced with Shania onstage. She left to Shania's agent, Mr. Bernie Katz.
"Yo Katz, I think something's up. This is the 3rd attempt on her life. Wasn't Shania supposed to be standing where that backup singer caught on fire?"
"Yes, I believe so. I'll check up on Shania, see how she's feeling."
"Thanks Mr. Katz." Leshawna left the English accented agent. He knew what he had to do. The next morning, at 6 AM, Bernie left to his red Corvette and started driving—to Las Vegas. He had to see an old friend and ask a favor of her.
In the Twilight Mall, at around 8 AM, Courtney and Bridgette had decided to run on the treadmills to start their day. Today, Courtney had decided to push herself to her limits. After getting flashbacks about how much she hated Harold, her anger caused her not stress, but better physical fitness. But Bridgette decided not to push herself today. She got off the treadmill and took the towel situated on a table and started wiping the sweat off of her. However, the run had made Bridgette tired and dizzy, and first, it was a little stumble. Courtney noticed and got off her treadmill and took her towel. Then, Bridgette lost her balance completely and started to collapse, but just before Bridgette suffered any brain damage, Courtney caught her.
"S-sorry. I-I was dizzy." Bridgette put a hand to her head to stop the world from turning every which way.
"I didn't want you to get hurt. You're my friend." Courtney smiled and patted some sweat off her forehead using her own towel.
"Friends help each other out, right?" Bridgette asked Courtney. Courtney smiled because it had been something that she had taught Bridgette in an attempt to re-jog her memory.
"Yes. Yes they do." And with that, both girls left the fitness area to take a long shower.
Meanwhile, in Beth's office space, she was just about finished wrapping the day's bandage around Chase's abdomen. It was to prevent any infection from getting into the wound the broad head arrow had created from the last Outing.
"You shouldn't have taken the arrow out. You could've bled to death. You should know that a broad head arrow does more damage coming out than in." Beth explained while she went to put the roll of gauze away.
"I'll remember that the next time I'm being bow-hunted." Chase attempted to chuckle, but there was pain in his abdomen.
"You're healing nicely."
"So I'm Certified, right?" After every severe injury, a Clerk had to be cleared by Beth if they could go back to their Mankin and watch over them. Beth, however, had other plans.
"I really recommend you take a few more days off Chase, just to make sure you don't tear the wound open…or worse."
"I'll be fine. Really, if you don't Certify me and Courtney gets sent out again, she could end up with some stranger as her Clerk. Do you want that?"
"We're all strangers to them. We think we know them, and they think they know us, but they really don't, and neither do we."
"Courtney's my responsibility, and we both know there's someone out there who wants her dead." Chase got up and started putting on and re-buttoning his blue shirt. "And upstairs says it can't be Tyler." Chase knew damn well that it could be Tyler and that Harold and Heather were trying to hide something from the staff. Or not, Chase had been wrong before.
"You're Certified." Beth smiled weakly and signed off on the clipboard.
"Thanks."
"But please…watch yourself. Someone else is watching."
"Someone always is."
"Bernie Katz. Fancy seeing you here." Heather threw her voice so she sounded posh and British as she entered her office. Today, she was wearing a royal purple V-neck short sleeved knee length dress with splashes of white flowers on it. Bernie was already waiting for her, for he had a request to make to her.
"Come on Heather, drop the accent."
"Then drop yours too, and that dreadful name."
"Fine." Bernie's accent was gone now.
"So Joseph, my wonderful cousin, what brings you all the way to Vegas?"
"First things first: tone down the sun in here. I'm burning up." He winked at her.
"God Joe, I know you were the agent to the Jonas Brothers for a time, but you don't have to say their lyrics all of the time. They're has-beens anyway." But Heather turned down the lights nevertheless. "TD is still rubbing off on me; the sunlight was ever common in the show. So what brings you here?"
"My new client, Shania Gold, is kick-starting her US tour."
"That Rihanna wannabee?" Joe furrowed his eyebrows.
"She's different from that other has-been. But she's started at the El Capitan Theater."
"Not the Hollywood Bowl? I thought you'd put her there first."
"No, no, that's for the summers. We put her in El Capitan just to remind everyone she can sing the damn songs. We get more people lining up to buy tickets to see her on tour that way." Joe poured himself some brandy that was next to the orchids on Heather's bureau.
"Hmph. You know you can always go to our summer home in Malibu. To unwind and relax." Heather took a seat on the black leather couch and looked at her nails, examining them.
"Fuck, I'll just say it: someone's trying to kill Shania. And it's not me, so don't try to fire some sort of insult my way." Joe wandered to the opposite couch and took a seat, brandy in hand. Heather's smug smile was long gone however; she was now in business mode.
"Kill her?"
"Didn't you hear about the accident at the theater? First concert of the tour and one of our backup singers quits. I wouldn't blame her; she got caught on fire from the pyro effects."
"So it's an accident?"
"Not quite. We changed the choreography for that concert due to the space; Shania was supposed to be standing where the girl caught on fire."
"Has it happened before?"
"There was one time, in New York City; some lighting almost fell on her head. And there was one other, and now this."
"How's Shania taking all of this?" Heather spotted a diorama on the table and picked it up. It was filled with head shots of Shania.
"I don't know. She's been distant, emotionless…I don't know. She didn't even try to stop our backup singer from leaving." Joe dug into a suitcase. "Here, this is some of her fan mail. She's been getting it since she could sing, but this…"
"Is crazy. All from the same guy…times change, but the fans don't. Well, as far as I can see, you've come to ask for a Mankin, someone to protect her, not a bodyguard."
"Exactly! She hates bodyguards anyway. They "cramp her style" or some other crap about not being able to breathe." Joe took a sip from his cup of brandy. "This Mankin needs to be someone Shania likes, trusts, and will always protect Shania without knowing she's supposed to. I know you can do it, and I have the money."
"But there's risk."
"Yup; she has to be willing to take a bullet for Shania, and I know you can do that too."
"We don't want it to come to that. However, we need a credible reason for her to be in Shania's life."
"We do need a backup singer. You can make her sing beautifully, right?"
"Yes, don't worry. In fact, I won't even charge you. We're all in the family."
"Oh, thanks Heather. You have no idea how grateful I am to you."
"So now you're grateful, and after all of those pranks you pulled on me so many years ago."
"And with your brother too. Good times, good times." Joe stood up and brushed off his suit. "TD didn't change you a bit cousin."
"Goodbye Joseph."
"Seems you can't find love either. You haven't been able to since TD you know." Joe had his English accent back, and he was starting to get back into his Bernie Katz persona.
"I said goodbye."
"Fine, fine." And Joe left Heather with those last words, which burned Heather at her very core. She left to her desk and called Harold.
"Harold, get Chase in here." She hung up, took a deep breath, and then started to call Cody. "Cody, have Imprint #6702 ready for Courtney immediately."
"You wanted to see me—again, Heather?" Chase smirked, concealing the pain from the arrow.
"Yes. You know about singing star Shania Gold?"
"Yeah. Shallow girl if you ask me."
"Well, we're having Courtney protect her. She's going to be a backup singer."
"You'll be keeping track of her vitals, as usual, but you'll be getting eyes and ears this time, okay?" Chase sighed and rolled his eyes at Harold's command.
"Got it. And I'll go; Courtney's probably already gone by now." Chase left the office on his own accord.
"At least he knows what to do now." Harold then left the office, leaving Heather by herself. She sat on her swivel chair and looked out to the other skyscrapers of Las Vegas. Her thoughts were interrupted by another call.
"Yes?"
"Heather-feather! It's Bernie again!"
"Joe, what do you want?"
"Could I get one more Mankin to watch over her? Not as a backup singer, but as a fan girl. We put up a video contest a while back, and we'll have her be the winner."
"You want her there as backup?"
"Exactly! Just as smart as ever Heather-feather!"
"Shut up you idiot. I'll do it, but this one will cost you."
"I'll wire the money over to your personal bank account, no worries. And, it'll include a little bit more, just for old times' sake."
"Fine."
"Bye Heather-feather! I'll keep you posted!"
"We'll be posted as it is, just make sure Courtney becomes friends with Shania."
"Alright, you're boss Heather—"
"Don't even dare say what you're going to say next."
"Bye." Heather slammed the phone onto the receiver.
"Fucking bastard."
Courtney sang Shania's requested song perfectly. Shania even joined in and sang harmony, with a little bit of prodding from Joe.
"Get her working." And Shania left.
"Wait, I got the part?" Courtney asked the small audience. Joe came up to her.
"Yes. You got the part."
"Oh my God, I got the part! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Courtney jumped up and down with joy.
"WHY ISN'T SHE WORKING?!" Shania screamed from outside of the dance studio.
"That's Shania for you." Joe smiled.
"You will not be disappointed!"
Meanwhile, back in the Twilight Mall, Cody was checking on an Imprint's brain functions when Beth walked in, very, very upset, purple skirt, black shirt, and white lab coat flowing in the self-generated wind.
"You sent Courtney out on a high risk Outing?" Cody stopped working at his computer and turned in his swivel chair to face Beth. He never showed his love for her, but showed outright cynicism to her, like Noah from his teenage years.
"Beth, so good of you to annoy me!"
"I had her flagged for romantic or altruistic Outings only. Does anybody read these?" She waved a blue folder in Cody's face.
"You know, her last romantic Outing turned out to be extremely high risk, maybe her Outing with Shania will turn romantic." Cody laughed at his own joke.
"She's a bodyguard!"
"She's a singer." Cody typed up a few things on his computer. "Okay, persona and parameter. Her persona is a struggling singer who just got her first break; whoo hoo. Her parameter: she must protect Shania, which she will do instinctively and unconsciously at all times." Cody got up from his seat and walked over to the imprint machine. Beth followed.
"She doesn't even know she's a bodyguard? And this makes what better?"
"What do you want, someone who's paid to protect you or someone who wants to protect you? Besides, they were orders from Heather, not me. But this is the beauty of what we do."
"And what about Chase? He's not up to any serious physical threats."
"What are you, buddies now? Oh God, of course you are! You both disapprove of everything! You're going to get married and have scowling babies!" Cody put an Imprint disk into the chair.
"Don't be an idiot." Beth kept her cool, anger ever escalating.
"Stop with the stress; we're sending in backup anyway. Again, orders from Heather." And at that point, Bridgette walked in, along with her Clerk, Russell Benton. "Please, have a seat Bridgette."
Shania was instructing Leshawna's dance crew on how to dance onstage for the next show. Damn girl's gonna get a fist in her mouth if she doesn't fucking shut up! Leshawna fired off another long string of curses in her head while dancing. In the back of her mind however, she was wondering what Courtney was doing here, and under a different name too.
"Janis, softer on your consonants." The singing director advised Courtney, whose name was now Janis Kusmitch. Courtney was dressed in her bra while a seamstress was hemming some jeans Courtney was wearing.
"I haven't seen all of the lyrics yet, so I'm flying blind." Courtney let out a soft giggle. The singing director rolled his eyes.
"CAN WE GET THE NEW GIRL A LYRIC BOOK?! NOW?!?!?!" He left to find an assistant who'd give him a lyric book.
"They're not very good lyrics." One of the backup singers, an African-American woman by the name of Raina informed Courtney.
"Oh, well, that's okay." Courtney shifted a little.
"Try not to move please." The seamstress informed Courtney.
"Sorry."
"So, is this your first big tour?" Raina asked Courtney.
"Big one? Yes. I've been working a lot, but nothing like Shania Gold. This is the dream gig." Courtney then noticed a few bodyguards talking to each other. "So what's with all of the muscle?"
"You heard about that "accident", right?" Raina asked.
"Yeah."
"Well, first there were three bodyguards, now there's eight, and a whole security staff." The other backup singer, Yasmin, informed Courtney instead of Raina.
"And they don't bring in her fan mail anymore. From what I heard, it goes straight to the police." Raina informed Courtney.
"What about Shania? Diva, or DIIIIVA?"
"Depends on the day. She's the real deal, don't get me wrong. But—"
"All right ladies, and here you go Janis." The singing director handed Courtney a thick packet of papers with the lyrics to all of Shania's songs. The three girls started to exercise their vocal cords, and then the singing director mysteriously left the girls on the orders of Joe. Joe left, and that left the three girls that had stopped practicing. The seamstress got up, done with hemming the jeans.
"All right, now bra off please." Yasmin and Raina left Courtney alone.
"What? Isn't there a bathroom or someplace where I can change?" Courtney looked around nervously.
"Honey, you'll be going through three quick changes during the concert; they're all going to see your stuff sooner or later." Courtney heaved a sigh, then took off her bra and quickly changed into the skimpy top that only wrapped around her breasts. Is it always this crazy?
"OKAY, STOP! STOP!!! Who's eating a mint? SOMEBODY'S EATING A MINT!!!" Shania screamed to her dance crew.
"HEY! NO ONE TALKS TO MY DANCE CREW LIKE THAT EXCEPT FOR ME!" Leshawna yelled back.
"OH REALLY?!"
"REALLY!"
"You know what?! I can't deal with this. I-I can't—"
"Okay Shania, I think it's time to go now." He calmed down Shania. "Don't upset my client."
"OH, I DID NOT JUST HEAR YOU SAY THAT! GET BACK HERE YOU SCRAWNY WHITE BOY!!!" The other members of Leshawna's dance crew held her back from punching Joe's lights out. But as Leshawna was fighting to get out of her crew's grasps and slap Joe and Shania, she saw Courtney leave with them. Courtney. What the hell is she doing here, and under a false name too? And she was never a good singer. In Total Drama, the Musical, Courtney wasn't necessarily the greatest singer in the world. So now that Courtney sounded wonderful, this aroused suspicion in Leshawna. She stopped fighting and went to the food table to get some water.
"Hey Zeke, I can't come to Geoff's place tonight." DJ was in his small cubicle, reclining in the swivel chair.
"DJ, why are you telling me? Why not tell Geoff?"
"Because I'm going out on other business, and I don't want Geoff to worry about me."
"I'm worried about you."
"Yeah, but I trust you a little bit more than Geoff, at least, for now. Tell Geoff that I had to visit some relatives in the area, okay? And please, don't let them worry about me. I'll be fine."
"But—"
"Bye Zeke." DJ hung up. He twirled a small business card in his hands. He could remember it now, how the card came into his possession. It was, after all, only yesterday.
DJ stepped back into his hotel suite after another long day in his small cubicle. He sighed and dragged his feet over to his bed. However, when he was taking off his shoes, he found a card stuck to the bottom of his right shoe. Thankfully, he could read the message on the card because he had stepped on the back side and not the front.
Agent Jones, meet me at Club Chloraine, 8 PM on the balcony overlooking the city. I have some important news for you. –Nicolai Zubaczec
DJ carefully removed the business card from his shoe and examined it. It looked legitimate enough, but it was around the same time as when he was supposed to meet Geoff and everyone else. DJ couldn't bring himself to call Geoff just yet, so DJ fell asleep, still in his suit.
DJ glanced at his fake Rolex watch. 4 PM. Crap, only a few more hours to go.
DJ drove up to a tall, imposing building. He could hear the music blaring from all the way up on the top floor. So he walked in, snuck past the guards, and walked all the way to the balcony, past all of the partygoers, some playing in the pool, others at the bar, others talking and lounging or dancing. Then he saw Nicolai. He didn't stand next to him however; instead, he went to another side of the balcony and looked out over LA.
"Nice view."
"Yeah. Look at all of the pretty lights, the people look like ants, I can see my house from here—ARE YOU TRYING TO GET ME FUCKING KILLED?" Nicolai spoke with a thick Russian accent.
"I wasn't followed, if it makes you feel any better."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, you cannot be seen snooping around my family or talking to me. If the Zubaczecs see us together, we'll both fucking die! And I'm going to be tortured by them first!" The two men were now face to face. "Besides, they know nothing."
"They traffic girls."
"Maybe, maybe not, but I know they don't brainwash them!"
"I thought you had some important news for me."
"Yeah, yeah, I do. I did what you asked; started throwing Twilight Mall around them, and they looked at me like I was a lunatic from the fucking Chernobyl blast!" Nicolai started wandering to a chaise.
"Maybe you're too small time." DJ kept looking at the lit LA skyline.
"It's a myth, OKAY?!?! It's an urban legend! Young people having their personalities replaced so they can be the perfect date?! It's alligators in the sewers!"
"I've heard it all before."
"I'm a dead end, okay? I have no leads, nothing."
"I don't think so."
"Oh, no. No, no, no. I know what you've done. You might not know me, but I've checked you up plenty Agent Jones. Trespassing, fights, illegal dealings, you're just as worse as our family. So the Bureau gives you the one job you can't blow because it doesn't exist!"
"The technology exists."
"So somebody made a monkey tango. Doesn't mean it's been tried on humans."
"It does."
"How do you know that, huh?" DJ looked out over the skyline once more.
"You split an atom, you make a bomb. Anything new, first things first: destroy, manipulate, control…its human nature."
"Yeah, people are crap. Look, I don't think there's a Twilight Mall. If I get different, I'll give you word. I wish there was though." Nicolai started to leave to go back to the party.
"Why?"
"So I can sign up. New start, wipe all of the terrible burdens away, no? Yes, when I start over, I want to be George fucking Clooney." And Nicolai left DJ to ponder about their conversation.
Meanwhile, in the backstage of the El Capitan Theater, Courtney noticed that there were no guards at the freight elevator.
"Mr. Katz?" She tapped Joe's shoulder, and he turned around to face Courtney. "I was just walking off my nerves and I noticed that there was no security by the freight elevator, and I was thinking that someone could get in there, say, a homicidal fan."
"Good eyes Janis."
"Bridgette should come into play in a minute." Cody instructed Chase. Chase was in the same van watching over Courtney's vitals.
"I'm glad they're double tracking this. Who's Bridgette's Clerk?"
"Russell Benton. You won't like this guy."
"Duly noted." Fifteen minutes to curtain. It was what Courtney was hearing at that moment. "Courtney's on in fifteen. Okay, okay…"
"Oh my God, are you nervous? Opening night jitters? Your little girl out there on the big stage?"
"On the stage where the last little girl caught fire."
"Point taken."
"Her singing's not a problem, right? I mean, she's a good singer, I think she's a good singer, she wouldn't freeze up onstage—"
"Chase, dude, chill. She'll be just fine. So, what's the deal with Shania? You've heard her through Courtney; what's she like?"
"Do you like shallow, vapid, diva-like monsters?"
"Really? She seemed so earthy and normal with Katie Couric." And hot… "You can't trust people these days." Cody ended the call as he took out an Imprint disk. You think you know someone…The seat was starting to rise, and on it was a Mankin who looked just like Nicolai Zubaczec. "Nick, how are you feeling?"
"Did I fall asleep?"
At the entrance to the theater, people were filing in, including a red headed lanky kid who was reminiscent of Harold coming in with crutches. He passed through the security guards okay, and he started to make a bee-line for a secret door.
Backstage, Shania, Yasmin, Raina, and Courtney were just about to go onstage.
"Deep breaths in and out. Prevents pre-show barfing. The biz taught me that when I was twelve." Shania advised Courtney, who was now wearing a snakeskin red mini skirt, fishnet leggings, knee high black leather stiletto boots, and a black spaghetti strap top.
"Shania! This is Brianna, winner of the number one fan contest! She flew in all the way from British Columbia!" Joe gestured to Bridgette, who was now clad in a blue knit dress, black flats, and had her hair curled.
"Oh, hey sweetie. I'd love to hang with you, but I have a show to do."
"Of course! Oh my God, oh my God, it's SHANIA!!!" Bridgette squealed and jumped up and down with glee.
"Are fans like that? Do they get to you?" Courtney whispered to Shania while going up to the stage.
"Comes with the territory." Shania got into position, and as did Courtney. Bridgette was backstage watching the performance alongside Joe. But the nerdy, lanky man with crutches entered in a separate room and climbed up a ladder. On the landing, he started taking apart his crutches. During Shania's performance of her hit song "Superstar", the nerdy man pieced together a sniper rifle (the parts were hidden in the crutches). About a minute later, he was done piecing the rifle together and left the room walking with his crutches. His plan was already set in motion.
"Where's DJ?" Geoff asked Ezekiel, who had just arrived. He was the last out of Duncan, Izzy, Owen, Sadie, and Noah to arrive at Geoff's house.
"He couldn't make it. Had to visit some relatives." Noah quirked an eyebrow, but Geoff bought the lie.
"Okay, I guess. So, we all know why we're here, right?"
"Cut the crap Geoff. Courtney's been kidnapped, Bridgette's gone, and come to think of it, I haven't heard from too many of our TD buddies in years." Duncan argued.
"DJ did tell me that he, Katie, and Sadie went to university in New York, but Katie was kidnapped one night a few years back." Ezekiel commented.
"Don't remind me." Sadie meekly responded.
"News doesn't travel fast among us, but I know that Gwen and Trent kept in touch with everybody." Izzy added. The others nodded in response.
"Aren't Gwen and Trent on a world tour?" Owen asked Izzy.
"Yeah. Trent's music is really good."
"Back on topic: who the fuck wants us dead?" There was a banging on the door after Duncan asked his question. Geoff opened the door, only to find a teary eyed woman with teal streaks in her hair standing at the door.
"GWEN?!" Sadie, Noah, Duncan, and Ezekiel crowded around Geoff to see their long-time TD friend. Gwen was obviously shocked, but it didn't show, for what she said next started to bring her to tears.
"Tr-Tr-Trent's gone." Duncan was the first to react to this news.
"Come on Gwen." He led her into the home, and they all sat on the couches around a glass top coffee table.
"Trent's gone, Courtney's gone, Bridgette's gone, Katie's gone, who else has been kidnapped?" Ezekiel asked out loud.
"He was supposed to start performing in a few days, after Shania left LA. But now he's gone. What the hell am I going to do?!" Gwen yelled in frustration.
"Gwen, we have reason to believe that someone is out to get all of us." Noah explained calmly to Gwen. He then started to tell the story of how they found Courtney's cloned body, all of the events that had started happening, with input from Duncan, Geoff, Ezekiel, Izzy, and Owen. Sadie was still a little shaken by her memory of Katie and that DJ was gone. DJ, where are you?
The next morning, DJ was at work, talking on his cell phone, an LG Shine (ancient compared to the phones on the market), with Nicolai, who was in La Brea Park, talking through a dilapidated pay phone, one of the last around.
"Agent Jones, I may have something for you after all. It used to be called the Devonshire Hotel, big noise back when Hollywood still had its dignity."
"That's nice, what am I looking for?"
"A basement. If people were held, it was probably down there. Hey, I'm still getting the sixth sense that this is a dead lead."
"Why call?"
"Because you pay very nicely. Watch your back." Nicolai hung up and started walking as far away from the pay phone as possible. DJ got up from his seat and left to find the Devonshire Hotel.
DJ kicked in a fence leading to the basement of the dilapidated hotel. With his small flashlight, phone in his pants pocket, and 9 mm gun concealed on him, he wandered in, looking for any evidence or anyone in sight. The basement was dark despite it being early noon and the sun was shining outside, so the flashlight helped greatly. As DJ went to open a window, three men, one carrying a 2x4, approached him, and the man with the 2x4 hit DJ's side, sending DJ barreling to the ground.
"You want to mess with the Zubaczecs?" The guy with the 2x4 asked. DJ noted the thick Russian accent.
"No, not really." The guy swung again, and DJ managed to successfully dodge it, then used it to jab the man in the stomach. After knocking out another guy, one of them shot a bullet into DJ's side, causing him to collapse to the ground.
"Какой идиот, чтобы прибыть сюда один." The man who shot DJ spoke. Translated, the man said, what an idiot to come here alone. He switched to English. "Do you know who we are? We are the last faces you'll see." DJ got up, despite the bullet wound, and twisted the gun out of the man's hand, causing a few shots to go off, but nothing serious, because they were fired into the ground. A few more of the men came to and started to go at him. One of them shot DJ repeatedly, but DJ was using another body as a shield at the time. After one more guy was knocked out, DJ tried to extract a confession out of one of the conscious men.
"What do you know about the Twilight Mall?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" DJ punched his head, knocking him out. No one ever fucking does. DJ staggered a bit, then fell to the ground. As he did this, he just barely managed to call 911 to be taken to the hospital.
At around 5 PM, Shania and Courtney were going to the VIP section of a club with paparazzi camera light flashing everywhere. Shania was wearing a red tube dress and Courtney was wearing a hot pink cocktail dress. Courtney was irked by all of the blinding light and the gasping people.
"Are you sure this is safe?"
"This is my party!"
"So you know all of these people?"
"Girl, relax. We're surrounded." Yeah right. Both girls were now in the VIP area, in their own separate area, and Bridgette was there waiting for Shania. "What in the hell is this skank doing at my table? I told you I—"
"Shania!" Joe came up to the now seething pop star. "You remember Brianna, the winner of the online video contest. She's your number one fan."
"Why do you always try to hurt me?"
"Be a saint darling." And Joe left to talk to his own friends. Shania looked down, and then plastered her most sincere grin on her face.
"Hey. You have no idea how much it means to me that you're here tonight." Bridgette looked like she was about to faint.
"Oh, my God, I—"
"Have a seat." The three girls, Shania, Bridgette, and Courtney sat down. A server came with two champagnes, one for Shania and one for Courtney. Bridgette already had her drink in her hand.
"I just have to say that you are so beautiful and talented, and you saved my life. I had your first CD before any of my friends, and I told them—"
"Okay, slow down. Listen, sweetie, you can just hang. So just turn off fan mode and turn on…what was your name again?" Bridgette was slightly taken aback by this. Her real personality, before she was mind wiped, was starting to shine through.
"Brianna…"
"Turn on Brianna mode."
"Brianna mode. Okay…"
"What are you drinking?"
"Oh, it's a Shirley Temple, they're so good, and I want to be able to enjoy every moment here."
"Well, you're making us feel like alcoholics, so why don't you have some champagne?"
"I'm not really a drinker, but I guess just this once will be okay. I've had champagne before, so yeah." Shania called another server with a champagne glass in her hand, and this server gave the glass to Bridgette.
"Unbelievable. Do people just do what you tell them to?" Courtney asked Shania.
"Pretty much."
"Brianna, if Shania wanted you to take off your clothes and run down the street right now, just for kicks, would you do it?"
"With or without my underwear?" Bridgette asked Courtney. Shania exchanged glances with Courtney, and the two started laughing. A guy came up to the three girls, about to take something out of his jacket, when Courtney got up and kicked him away, and he was down on the floor. Spilling out of his jacket was a camera.
"Paparazzi." Courtney sniffed.
"Damn girl, you need to chill." Shania laughed.
"That was so cool. Where did you learn to do that?" Bridgette asked Courtney as security dragged the paparazzo away.
"Oh, a few self-defense classes."
Concert night, and Russell Benton was almost at the van where Chase was watching over Courtney's vitals, along with searching for who would want to kill Shania by looking up her fan sites. Fucking fan sites. There's too many…Russell walked in at this point.
"It took you FORTY minutes to get coffee?" Chase asked Russell.
"You had eyes on. Besides, my girl doesn't come into play unless it's an extreme situation. Whatcha got there?"
"Shania's fan sites. There are HUNDREDS of them all over the place."
"Bunch of crazies."
"That's what I'm looking for. A man had to be on here somewhere."
"Right, you're the ex-cop, investigating somebody else's problem. You just keep an eye out to make sure the girls get the job done."
"Bridgette's new, right?" Russell nodded. "What happened to the previous Mankin?"
"He got the job done."
"Right." Chase sighed and went back to searching through the fan sites. Hating the guy already. Nice going Cody.
A/N: Hey, hey, hey! So, how did you like it? I'd love to read what you think!
Shania is not Sha-NIA, it's Shuh-NIGH-Uh. Just to clear things up.
Joe is Mr. Katz, Courtney is Janis, and Bridgette is Brianna. Just in case you missed anything.
Nicolai is really a Mankin whose Imrpint isn't deleted at all.
"Chernobyl blast" is talking about the Chernobyl nuclear disaster of 1986. More info on Wikipedia and Google, but if you've played Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare, you'll know about this disaster.
Couples so far: DuncanxCourtney, BridgettexGeoff, GwenxTrent, KatiexNoah, SadiexDJ, CodyxBeth, IzzyxOwen, more to come. Oh yes, many more, maybe even a few crack pairings?
No songs in mind today. The songs that were in my mind were for my other fanfic. Whoops, sorry!
Kidnapped list: Katie, Courtney, Bridgette, Trent (Note: these are kidnappings that are confirmed and known by The Company, listed below (excluding DJ for now))
The Company: Geoff, Izzy, Owen, Duncan, Noah, Sadie, Gwen, Ezekiel, DJ
Will DJ live to see tomorrow? What does the red-head have in store for Shania? Will Leshawna recognize Courtney and Bridgette and try to jog their memories? Will Cody profess his love for Beth or continue acting like Noah? Will Chase punch Russell's lights out for being a jerk, maybe even Cody too? Is Heather going to heed her cousin's words and find love? All that and more, NEXT!!! Review please!