A/N: So, thought I'd try something new... how do you guys feel about shorter chapters in exchange for quicker updates, rather than longer chapters with longer waits? Hopefully, this way is a little more efficient in getting the story out. Let me know what you think!
Chapter 6: Aca-Initiation
Beca's definitely made a mistake.
Just when she thinks her life can't get any more strange, it does, taking the plunge from weird to downright bizarre in an unusual turn of events. She auditions for what she believes to be an acapella group, and somehow finds herself joining a cult instead. The darkened room is illuminated by the light of several dozen candles - enough to be considered a major fire hazard - and if the deep, bass like moans chanting in the background are anything to go by, she's fairly certain her soul is about to be offered up in some ritualistic sacrifice to Satan. (Or maybe Lady Gaga - one or the other…)
"The sopranos," she hears Aubrey announce, "Jessica, Mary Elise, Lily." There's a short pause, and Beca shifts uncomfortably beneath the cloth draped loosely over her head. "The mezzos… Cynthia Rose, Stacie, Kori. And our altos… Fat Amy, Denise, Ashley, and Beca."
The DJ gasps with relief as she's finally released, nose crinkling and lips twisting in revolt as she takes in their surroundings. Though her senses had painted a clear mental picture of the situation and its environment, seeing it with her own two eyes is a completely different experience altogether, and only solidifies her beliefs that she's been duped into becoming the newest member of some extreme religious faction.
"We shall begin," Aubrey continues, reverently lifting a chalice, which she then hands solemnly to Chloe, "by drinking the blood of the sisters that came before you."
"Dude, no!" she exclaims, eyes widening as she glances towards the other recruits, silently pleading with them for some sort of aid. They only shrug in response, and Beca can feel her stomach clench in revolt; was she seriously expected to drink blood? Like, had none of these women heard of HIV?
"Don't worry," Chloe whispers, offering her an assuring wink. "It's Boones Farm."
Hesitantly, Beca takes the drink bestowed before her and reluctantly raises the glass to her lips; with an encouraging nod from the older Bellas, she takes a tentative sip and is relieved to find that it is, in fact, only Boones Farm. Handing it back, she watches - still somewhat wary - as Chloe moves on down the line, until each new member had drunk from the cup. Returning it to its place in the center of their altar (because that's what it is - an altar), the senior takes the yellow scarves laid out before them and distributes it amongst the inductees, giving the brunette's hand an affectionate squeeze as she presents her with her own.
Retreating to her position behind the table, Chloe gently instructs, "Now, if you'll place your scarves in your right hand…"
Aubrey watches like a hawk, and once confident they've done as told, takes over. "I, sing your name…"
Beca doesn't sing her name so much as she speaks it in a higher pitch, wincing as her fellow newbies trill their response, loudly and out of key - or, in the case of the soft spoken Asian, whisper into the cloth what she believes to be (but desperately hopes isn't), "Lily, Harbinger of Death." She barely has enough time to process before Aubrey is once again addressing them, reciting an oath better suited to an army at war than a group of woman singing collegiate acapella.
Regardless of her personal opinion, Beca repeats Aubrey's words, though it comes out less of a statement and more like a question when she pledges abstinence from all Treblemakers, lest her "vocal cords be ripped out by wolves". Though she knows she won't be having any issues in that specific department, it's still an odd condition to have tacked onto their oath, and she can clearly see that everyone else is a little confused by it as well. 'Oh well,' she thinks, 'Their problem, not mine.'
Abruptly, the lights flicker on and the chanting stops (where had it even come from?), and Aubrey's face splits into a thin-lipped smile, stiff but proud as she declares, "You are all Bellas now."
The room erupts in sound as the newest members break out in cheers, and Beca cringes as she's swept up in a group hug, everyone gathering together in a celebratory embrace. She breaks free almost immediately, clutching her scarf to her body defensively as a tall, leggy brunette - she thinks her name is Stacie? - leans into her, shrinking back as her face is very nearly introduced to the taller woman's ample breasts.
Assuming that they are finished, Beca scurries for the door, eager to regain her precious personal space; she's two steps from freedom when a hand lands atop her shoulder, effectively stopping her in her tracks, and it takes everything the DJ has not to react violently. 'So close,' she mourns, silently. 'So close, and yet so far…'
"Where do you think you're going?"
Turning to face to her captor, Beca stumbles for words. "I was just… I thought we were done. And I was going to... I mean… err, I have… homework?" she manages anxiously to spit out. (Honestly, she hasn't done a single assignment since school started, but no one really needs to know that, and it's really the only plausible excuse she can currently think of.)
"As much as I… admire your dedication to schoolwork," Aubrey claims, her words clearly insincere, "We aren't done here quite yet. You have been newly inaugurated into the Bella's sacred sisterhood, and as is custom, we must partake in Aca-Initiation Night, to celebrate with our fellow aca-brethren the continuation of our musical bloodlines."
Brethren? Bloodlines? If she'd had any doubts before, they're gone now; Beca is 100% positive that she's now in a cult. 'Join a club, he said. It'll be fun, he said,' she snarks, silently. 'Thanks a lot, dad…'
"Oh, okay. Yeah…" she nods, gently slipping out from beneath her hand. "Totally, sounds… aca-awesome. Guide the way!" Side-stepping the blonde senior, she gestures for her to take the lead; Aubrey's eyes narrow at her skeptically, but finding nothing to suspect, she merely sniffs her nose at her and motions for everyone to follow.
With a silent sigh of relief, Beca falls in line with the other Bellas and trails after their new leader (Fuhrer, dictator, overlord - the words are interchangeable). Fortunately, there's no need for them to travel that far as they simply exit through the back of the music building and into an outdoor auditorium, where members of the other acapella groups have already begun to party.
"I don't know what I'm doing here," she groans, as she glances about the arena. Music thumps loudly in the background, intermingling with the raucous chatter of the students; it's sensory overload, too much commotion for her heightened senses, and already she can feel the beginning stages of what she knows will only lead to a powerful migraine. Still, Beca figures she can tough it out long enough to socialize with her new teammates, and to enjoy a cup or two of the cheap - but most importantly, free - booze.
"Beca!" Suddenly, from the crowd, a familiar voice calls out to her. "Beca! Becaaaw!"
The freshman smirks as she watches her fellow intern climb his way up the stadium, clambering over concrete benches and nearly toppling over once or twice in his clumsy haste. It's painfully clear that Jesse is inebriated, and she can smell the alcohol on his breath as he finally stumbles within range, panting in drunken exertion.
"Do my eyes deceive me, or are you a Barden Bella?" he grins, eyes gleaming with smug amusement.
"Shut up," she grumbles, half-heartedly. Beca had done nothing during their long shifts at the station but rip on him for wanting to join the Treblemakers, and here she was now, a member of the opposing group. "Are you okay?" she asks, redirecting the conversation to something that was far less embarrassing for herself. "You're really drunk, you know that? I don't think you're gonna remember any of this."
"I'm not drunk," Jesse protests, though his smile clearly says he knows he is. "You're just blurry."
Beca laughs and shakes her head, playfully pushing him as he rocks back and forth unsteadily on his feet. It was funny, but once he'd stopped hitting on her, she'd found Jesse ten times more tolerable than when they'd first met, and had even come - on occasion - to enjoy his company (so long as he wasn't going off on one of his infamous movie rants). They chat for a few more minutes, swapping stories about initiation, and then he departs, promising to return with drinks. She barely has enough time to catch her breath before she's approached again, this time by Chloe, who bounds towards her like an excitable puppy.
"Hey!" she greets breathlessly, slipping her hands around Beca's as she tugs her forward. "I'm so glad that I met you. I think we're gonna be really fast friends."
Beca, taken aback by the close proximity, blurts the first thing to come to mind. "But aren't we already?" Realizing that makes her sound presumptuous, she flounders to make it right. "Uhh… I don't mean to assume. What I meant to say is that... er, well, you saw me naked," she winks, attempting to save face despite the growing blush, warm and unpleasant, creeping its way steadily up her neck.
"I did," Chloe laughs, leaning upwards as she pulls Beca further down, until their foreheads rest against one another. "And we are," she assures, releasing the brunette's hands in favor of wrapping her arms around her neck, further deepening the embrace. "I just think that we're going to be really close, or… at least, that's what I'm hoping for. I like you. I like hanging out with you. I like getting to see the real you - the one hidden behind this wall of badassery that you've built up around yourself."
"Wall of badassery?" Beca mimics, brows raised high in question, and despite her discomfort, she's unable to repress the small smile that teases her lips.
"Oh, shush!" Chloe replies, shaking her gently with false aggravation. "I'm trying to make a point here!" The freshman grins curiously and nods, imitating the zipping of her lips and throwing away the key, which earns her a playful slap to the shoulder. "Anyway, I guess what I'm really saying is that I think you and I have a connection. I don't know if it's because you saved my life, or if it's because I just find you intriguing… all I know is that I want to know you, and… and I kind of hope you want that too?"
Not for the first time, Beca finds herself taken aback by Chloe's forwardness; she'd grown accustomed to life in the background, was used to being no more than a side-character in the story of other people's lives. Rarely did she find herself at the center of someone else's attention, and in the few previous instances where she'd been befriended, no one had stuck around long enough to break past her defenses. A part of her, the part buried deep inside her walls of mistrust and her barriers of doubt, yearns for the companionship Chloe so willingly offers. But the other part of her - the realist, the reason for all those walls and barriers, the one who's learnt time and time again that no one can be trusted - warns her to be wary.
Unsure of what to make of it, Beca releases a soft laugh of uncertainty. "Uh, ditto…" she only says, before mentally berating herself for such a stupid response. 'Ditto? Seriously?' she scolds, 'What are you, a Pokemon!?'
Fortunately, Chloe doesn't seem to notice her apprehension, and squeals delightedly as she tightens the hug, nearly sending Beca toppling over the bench and down into the row below with her. She somehow manages to remain upright, awkwardly returning the embrace as she pats a hand atop the ginger's head.
"Okay, well I should let you go and enjoy the party," she says, finally releasing her of her hold. "This ginger needs her jiggle juice! I'll see you later!"
"Make good choices!" she calls lamely after her, still reeling from the senior's earlier declaration. However, she has little time dwell on it as Jesse returns not a moment later, glancing back and forth between Beca and the retreating redhead, a curious expression written across his face as he hands the DJ her promised beverage.
"Hey, who was that?" he asks, gulping a mouthful of his drink.
"Oh, that's Chloe. She's… she's just a friend," Beca replies quietly, cautiously inspecting the contents of her cup. Taking a hesitant sip, she fights back the wave of nausea that washes through her, nearly gagging at the horrendous taste. "Dude, the fuck'd you put in here? Motor oil and bleach?"
"Maybe, I dunno," Jesse shrugs, taking another hearty gulp. "I can't really taste anything anymore, so I sort of just threw whatever I could find together. And that Chloe chick… you sure she's just a friend? You two were looking pretty cozy by my eye."
"How many fingers am I holding up?" she retorts, raising her hand.
The Treblemaker squints, leaning forward for closer inspection. "Pfft!" he eventually cries, "That's a trick question! You're not holding any up."
Beca's brows pinch, face scrunched in bemusement as her gaze darts back and forth between Jesse and her opened palm, exposing all four fingers and thumb. "Yeahhh…" she drawls out, "I don't trust your eye right now."
"I know what I saw," he insists, words beginning to slur; Jesse wavers where he stands, knees trembling beneath the weight of his drunken haze, and it's only through Beca's lightning fast reflex that he doesn't go tumbling down the stairs. Deciding that he's had more than enough to drink, she rips the cup from his hand and pours it onto the concrete, ignoring his whines of protests for "wasting perfectly good booze".
"I think it's time for you to call it a night," she declares, slinging his arm over her shoulder, letting Jesse slump against her as she all but lifts his dead weight up the steps towards the top of the auditorium. "You know Luke isn't going to be happy if you come in tomorrow, late and hungover," she reasons, as he mumbles his objection into her shoulder.
"Screw Luke," he murmurs, irately. "Him and his stupid, perfect abs… and his stupid British accent… and his… his stupid f-face…" Beca snorts at his drunken ramble and continues to carry him away, never once noticing the pair of emerald greens trained intently on their departure.
Nor does she see the darkened silhouette, guarding from the shadows.
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