A/N: So, that whole short chapter/short update thing didn't seem to pan out so well for me. I can't really make any promises on when updates will come out, but I will do my best to get them out to you all in a timely manner. Thanks for all your patience thus far! Also, as we're sort of getting to that point in the fic now, I just want to remind you all that I'm not an expert on comic book lore, and a lot of what I write doesn't necessarily stick true to the original story lines. It's a combination of the Spiderman/Marvel multi-verse stories all rolled into one, with certain aspects taken from the movies and TV shows as well. So just a little heads up if you're like a die-hard fan of the comics - it's not going to be accurate to what you know.
BUT, this is first and foremost a PP fic, so it will still follow the plotline and whatnot throughout the rest of the movie. I mold the story to fit the Pitch Perfect universe, and not the other way around. Anyway, enough chatter. Enjoy!
Chapter 7: Midnight, Morning Rendezvous
A rustle of leaves, a scramble of dirt - unseen and barely heard.
Beca tenses as she pauses in her walk; deliberately, her eyes narrow as she cautiously tilts her head, glancing over her shoulder towards the source of the noise. Patiently, she waits, expecting the tell-tale tingle to alert her that danger is near. She knows she's an easy target; after all, it's a college campus and she's a woman, alone and unescorted after leaving a party that undoubtedly served alcohol. If she were anyone else, she'd be scared, but being who she is - being what she is - Beca is less frightened than she is annoyed.
Still, that doesn't mean she can't be careful, and she spreads her senses, probing for some sign of an intruder. She waits several moments, taking in the quiet evening air; there's a dull ache at the base of her skull - which she attributes to the earlier (absolutely vile) concoction supplied by Jesse - but nothing like the usual prickle of alarm to warn her of impending peril. Although perfectly capable of defending herself, Beca decides to err on the side of caution and changes direction, slipping off between buildings where she scales the wall five storeys towards the safety of the rooftops.
From her vantage point, she can see all of Barden's campus, the rolling hills of green spread before her like carpet before a king, with nearby Atlanta's skyline bordering the horizon; for a moment, she allows herself to stare out across the dark expanse of buildings and streetlights, drinking in the view with all its streaks of black, dotted with whites and yellows, reds and greens. This, she believes, is her natural element, where she belongs - hovering above the rest of society, not as a superior, but as an observer, and an intercessor. It is, after all, where she feels most comfortable, most free to be herself - powers and all.
Returning her attention towards the search for her potential assailant, Beca scours the grounds below, eying every bush and tree one might consider hiding behind. Neither her physical senses, nor her supernatural attributes are able to detect even the slightest hint of danger, and so she has no choice but to relent in her pursuit of this hidden adversary. Chalking it up to a figment of her imagination, Beca eyes the next building over and prepares to leap, muscles coiling like a spring before launching herself towards its roof.
The freshman is struck mid-air, warning bells exploding in her mind milliseconds before it hits; she never sees it coming - all she sees is the echo of a shadow, an atrocious glow of pink winking into existence behind her as she's hit squarely in the back. It doesn't hurt so much as it stuns her, and Beca flies downward with accelerated force. She lands haphazardly atop her intended building, skidding along the coarse patch of shingles, though she's given little time to recover. From behind comes a whistle, so low it's almost inaudible, but it's growing louder fast - and faster still.
Throwing herself to her feet, Beca spins on the heel of her boots, catching sight of several metallic glints headed directly for her. With dexterity unknown to even the most elite of athletes, she reaches out and catches two of the knives by their handles, wielding them for her own self as she parries the remaining incoming blades.
Hurling them to the floor, Beca raises her arms, crossing them above her head just as a cloudy burst of pink flares to life, and a dark figure descends upon her. Blocking the downward kick, she retaliates with an upward knee, sinking it into thin air as her attacker stumbles back. Growling with obvious frustration, the brunette lashes out, fists flying left and right as she attempts to land even a single hit. With practiced ease, her opponent dodges nimbly, which only serves to further aggravate the already furious DJ.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" she demands between breaths, grimacing as she's bashed harshly across the face. Staggering backwards, Beca shakes off the pain and takes a second to assess her mysterious foe, hands once held in defense dropping with disbelief as she finally takes in their appearance. "Oh, for fuck's sake! You've got to be shitting me!" she exclaims, wondering - not for the first time - why the universe insists on making her its bitch.
Apparently joining a cult isn't enough trauma for one night, because there, standing before her is a goddamn ninja - black dogi, face mask, headband and all.
"What did I ever do to you!?" she groans, as they press the offensive, forcing her to defend against the onslaught of attacks. Accustomed to thugs and otherwise untrained, non-super powered individuals, Beca finds herself woefully unprepared to take on someone fairly capable of fighting back, and is desperately outclassed as she struggles to keep up with their higher level of skill.
Somehow, she ends up as the ball in a one-sided game of ping pong, as the ninja - god, that sounds weird even in her own mind - teleports from one side of the roof to other, kicking her back and forth. Beca can do nothing else but grit her teeth and endure, wincing as her already battered ribs are smashed in, eliciting a wounded cry from her bruised lips. Abruptly, she's picked up and flung into the air, eyes widening as she's engulfed in the strange pink glow; for a brief moment, she feels nothing at all - weightless and free - but in the next instant, she swears every nerve in her body is lit on fire.
"Ohh, that's going to hurt in the morning," she wheezes, as she's dropped directly onto the street, plummeting twenty feet onto the hard asphalt below. Rolling onto her hands and knees, Beca braces herself against the concrete, hardly bothering to glance up as two feet step into view. "Is that all you got?" she taunts, against her better judgement.
'I'm an idiot,' she immediately thinks, as she's snatched up by the collar of her shirt and ripped upwards onto her feet. Fierce green eyes gleam radiantly, standing out vividly amongst the sea of black that surrounds their face, and Beca marvels silently at the unearthly glow. She has but a moment to contemplate its uniqueness when something sharp - needlelike and thin - pierces the skin of her shoulder; it's a pinch at best, but the fear of what could possibly be injected into her system is enough to send every instinct she has into fight mode.
Beca tilts back and then launches forward, slamming her skull into the forehead of her opponent; they meet with a resounding crack, and she uses their surprise and disorientation to her advantage. Releasing herself from their grip, she slams her fists into them in quick succession, nailing them with a gut wrenching uppercut, followed by a searing elbow across the jaw. But she doesn't stop there, going on to clobber her adversary with a right hand, left cross, right hook combo. Beca is just about to deliver the final blow, rearing back for a straight left, when they lurch forward, slipping back into her personal space as they snatch back the needle still embedded into her.
She just catches a glimpse of the tube before they're gone, blinking out of sight in that obnoxious hue, and the realization of what it contains nearly hits harder than her attacker. As she lays a hand atop the wound, massaging away the pain, Beca can't help but wonder, 'What the hell would anyone want with my blood?'
How did she get here?
She's lying half-asleep, tangled in her bed sheets, arms flung wide; sleep sits on her eyelids, but slowly begins to melt in the sunrise as morning light filters in through the window. From the haze of random thoughts comes some semblance of order - a subtle awareness of herself and her surroundings. Beca curls inwards, groaning as her muscles ache with protest, and shifts restlessly in an attempt to find a more comfortable position.
Finding her pillow lumpy, she grumbles quietly and scoots a bit to the side, rearranging her head until it rests on something firmer. With a soft sigh of content, Beca nestles into its warmth, musing quietly to herself at the oddity of that thought. How could her pillow be warm? Sure, it could absorb and radiate the heat of her own body, but this felt less residual and more… human…?
"Good morning, sunshine," a sultry voice murmurs into her ear.
Beca's eyes snap open, and promptly shrieks as she's greeted to the sight of a strange woman lying casually in her bed. She quickly recognizes those hazel eyes, and brown hair streaked with blonde, which only elicits a second shriek from her as she jerks back in surprise. For a time there's nothing but silence, punctuated only by the unintelligent babble that her mouth insists on blurting out.
"S-Stacie?" she ultimately stammers, "That's… that's your name, right?"
"Yep!" she confirms, smiling brightly. "And you're Beca."
"Yeah, that's uh… that's me," the smaller woman replies, clutching the blankets to her chest. "Not to be rude, but what are you doing in my bed? And… and, oh my god… are you naked!?" She takes in the other freshman's bare shoulders, and after checking that she herself is still clothed, flings the covers over her instead. Seriously, what was with this school? There had been nothing in the brochure to inform her that Barden was a campus of nudists, nor had her father warned her that clothing was "option only". This isn't what she (didn't) sign up for!
Tilting her head, Stacie stares down at her in thinly veiled amusement, lips quirked into a gentle smile as she explains, "First off, this is my room. And second… again, this is my room, and I find sleeping nude is the best way to get a full night's rest. Seriously, don't knock it till you try it!"
"This… this is your room?" Beca repeats, wild eyed and confused as she finally takes in her environment, only to realize that it is - in fact - not her room. "What? But… but, wait. I don't understand… how did I end up in your room and not mine?"
"I brought you here, duh!" Stacie shrugs coolly, as though that explains everything; instead, it only opens up a new can of worms for Beca to try and sort out.
"Okay, but why did you bring me here?" she asks, before hesitantly adding, "We didn't, uhm… y'know… we didn't do it, right?"
"What?" Stacie's brows crinkle momentarily with confusion, but laughs and shakes her head when she understands the question. "Oh, no! I mean…" her eyes trail wickedly over Beca's body, "I'd definitely hit that, but I have a policy against doing it when the second party involved is unconscious or otherwise unable to participate properly in the affair. I mean, it's just bad practice, y'know?"
There's a number of things Beca can think of in response to that statement (particularly the last bit), but she figures it's best to keep on track and only ask questions directly related to her and the situation she finds herself in now. Instead, she steers the conversation in the direction she wants it to go, asking skeptically,"What do you mean by unconscious?"
"Uhm… asleep? Out cold? Comatose? Knocked the fuck out?" Stacie lists, ticking off a finger for every synonym. "I could go on, but I think you get the picture. Yeah, I totally found you on the way back from Aca-Initiation Night, lying beneath a tree in front of the Business and Economics building. Pretty sure you were trying to use a pinecone for a pillow…"
Beca unconsciously reaches for her face, feeling for any indentations or splinters left behind. "Oh, that… really explains nothing at all," she breathes, cringing awkwardly at the whole ordeal. "But thank you for taking me in and not leaving me out to be kidnapped, or whatever. That would have really sucked…"
"No problem," Stacie assures, "We're Bellas now! That means we're like sisters, so we gotta watch each other's back, right?"
"Oh, yeah. Right," Beca nods, with a grin that's half-grimace. "Sisters…"
"Speaking of Bellas, we've got practice at nine," the taller brunette reminds, as she slowly peels back the sheets. The action causes Beca's face to erupt into a brilliant shade of red, an impromptu portrayal of Mt. Vesuvius as she stumbles from the bed, dropping to the floor with a heavy thud.
"Bellas practice, yes! Of course," she exclaims with false enthusiasm. Hand held protectively over her eyes, Beca fumbles blindly for the door, arm outstretched in search of salvation. She runs first into the closet, and then the desk, apologizing profusely along the way until she finally manages to find the door knob and let herself out.
"See you later!" Stacie calls, as the door slams shut behind her.
"Oh my god, what is happening to my life?" Beca groans, as she staggers down the hall, wracking her brain for some sense of clarity - anything to enlighten her on the previous night's events. Her memory is crystal clear right up until the point she had dropped Jesse off at his dorm, handing his boneless form over to the shy but sweet Benji. Anything beyond that is incomprehensible, mere snippets of sights and sounds that - when put together - paints a picture best likened to that of a Picasso; which is to say, completely abstract and no help to her at all.
"Fuck, I'll figure this out later," she grumbles, as she reaches her own dorm, surprised to find that she and Stacie are floormates, with their rooms located only on opposite ends of the building. How had she never seen the other girl before? Deciding she had enough mysteries to solve as is, Beca dismisses the thought and shuffles tiredly into the room, ignoring the startled expression on Kimmy Jin's face as she falls atop her bed in an exhausted heap.
"Stop staring," Beca mumbles a minute later, face pressed snugly into her pillow (an actual pillow this time, and not someone else's chest - she made sure of it).
"You used the door," she states, bluntly.
"Yeah, so?"
"You never use the door," Kimmy Jin declares, sounding equal parts bored and unimpressed. "What's wrong, white girl?"
"Do you actually care?" she asks, lifting her head ever so slightly, peering at her roommate through doubtful eyes.
"No," the other girl curtly replies, "But I thought it'd better to ask, and deal with it on my own terms, than have you rant to me uninvited."
Beca's lips part to reply, a sarcastic retort on the tip of her tongue, when she's interrupted by the pounding of a fist on their door. She and Kimmy Jin lock eyes, silently debating over who will get up and answer it, when Chloe's voice wafts cheerfully into the room, singing a greeting that has Beca - reluctant as she is - scrambling to let her in, lest she upset their neighbors.
"Jesus, Chloe! Can you be any louder?" she hisses, only to slap a hand atop the redhead's mouth as she grins playfully, inhaling deeply to no doubt prove that yes, she can be louder. "That was rhetorical," Beca proclaims, yanking her into the room where they could talk more privately (Kimmy Jin not included). "What are you even doing here? It's like seven in the morning."
"I know!" Chloe nods, in a manner the freshman believes far too lively for this early in the day. "I just wanted to make sure that you woke up in time for practice, and that you'd have enough time to get ready. I know you tend to oversleep - don't you dare deny it! - and Aubrey is a real taskmaster when it comes to punctuality. Plus, I wanted to see if you might come to breakfast with me? I thought we could go to that diner we went to last time."
As if on cue, Beca's stomach growls like a beast demanding to be fed, so loudly that even Kimmy Jin - who had been pointedly ignoring the two - raises her brow in callous surprise. Scratching her cheek, the shorter Bella coughs and murmurs, "I guess you know my weakness."
Chloe laughs brightly, nudging her teasingly as she replies, "It's really not that hard to figure out."
"Yeah, yeah," she sighs, moving around to gather her things. "Anyway, give me like twenty minutes to shower, change, brush my teeth… all that stuff, and whatever. You can hang out here if you want."
"Sure! I'll just wait he-..." Kimmy Jin glares, and Chloe quickly corrects herself, "I'll be in the lobby when you're ready."
True to her word, Beca emerges from the stairwell twenty minutes later, a bag slung casually over her shoulder. She's freshly washed and dressed, her dark hair still damp, tied back in a half braid with the fringe teased out. Chloe moves to greet her, slipping her arm casually through Beca's, who startles momentarily at the contact.
"Hey," she grins shyly, "Sorry to keep you waiting."
"No worries! I was just emailing one of my professors about an upcoming paper, so I had something to kill the time with," Chloe informs, leading the younger student out the exit and down the sidewalk towards the main avenue. "Anyway, what did you think of initiation ight? Did you have fun at the party? I tried looking for you again after our first talk, but I couldn't find you anywhere."
"Oh, yeah… it was, uh, it was interesting," she explains, deciding to keep her personal opinions on their cult like rituals to herself, "And I didn't stay too long at the party… actually, I left early with a friend. He was pretty wasted by the time we arrived, so I took him back to his dorm and left him with his roommate. After that, I… well, honestly, I don't really know what I did after that, but I know I didn't make it back."
"Looks like he wasn't the only one to have too much to drink," the ginger laughs, as they make their way down the road. "Sounds like you completely blacked out."
"Yeah," Beca murmurs, feigning a chuckle. "Too much to drink I guess." Though she knows that isn't the case, it's by far the easiest and most logical explanation for her lack of memory. The remainder of their walk is spent in idle chit chat, varying in topic from classes, to music, to the latest puppy video Chloe had seen online; the senior does most of the talking, but Beca doesn't mind, preferring to listen and give input when required, and generally content - one might even say happy - to simply have her company.
They arrive at the diner a short ten minutes later, announcing their entrance with muffled laughter over a Vine Chloe insists that Beca watch. The hostess leads them to a booth by the window at their request, and they shuffle in on opposite sides of the table as they're handed their menus, with a promise that their waitress will be there momentarily to take their orders. The first few minutes are spent in relative silence, both girls looking over the food options; a short time later, they place their order with the server, and settle in to wait it out, sitting together in a companionable fashion.
For a while, they stare outside and people watch, making a game of it as they invent stories and backgrounds for those that pass. They're still getting to know one another, but it's fun and lighthearted, an easy way to learn about the other without pressure or expectations, or the usual questions involved on such occasions. Eventually, their food is brought out, and Beca ravenously attacks her plate, both to Chloe's amusement and chagrin.
"You've, uh… you've got a little something right there," she says, pointing to the brunette's mouth, where a scrap of egg dangles loosely. Beca blushes, murmuring an apology as she swipes at it with the back of her hand, only to completely miss her target. Chloe snickers softly and reaches up with a napkin, snatching the offending morsel from her lips and dabbing it clean. "Got it!"
"Thanks," Beca grins gratefully, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"Happy to help," Chloe beams, taking up her fork and digging into her own plate. "But here's a thought… why not slow down, and actually taste your food? I'm pretty sure we humans, as a species, have evolved enough and advanced beyond the stage of the hunter-gatherer, so I don't think you really need to worry about your food running off any time soon."
"Ha, ha," she drawls, sarcastically. Her face twists with mock displeasure as she stabs a slice of ham and lifts it deliberately towards her lips, tearing off a chunk with her teeth and making a show out of chewing her food. "Oh, yeah! That's so much better," Beca says, as she finally swallows the bite. "Can't believe what I've been missing out on. Thank you, you've… you've changed my life."
"You don't have to be such a brat about it," Chloe scoffs, kicking her gently beneath the table. Beca smirks around her next mouthful, earning herself another (harder) kick, which she feigns injury to with a childish pout. "Don't even try that one with me. I know you can take it just as well as you dish it."
"Because I'm a badass?" she asks, "Protected by my… what did you call it again? Oh, yeah - my wall of badassery?"
"Shut up," the ginger retorts, "You know what I meant to say! I mean…" she pauses, almost hesitating before she asks, "You do know what I meant, right? Like, you know I was one hundred percent sincere last night when I said I wanted to know you better, and all that other stuff."
"No, I-I totally know," Beca replies, stumbling awkwardly over her words as her confidence wanes, and she withdraws into the safety her shell. "I believe you when you say that."
"Okay, and… and what about you?" Chloe presses, cautiously. "Did you mean it? When you said you felt it too… the connection, that is… and how you wanted the same, t-to be friends, and everything."
Beca gulps and flounders desperately for the right thing to say, drowning in her social inexperience as her mouth flaps open and close, struggling to form proper words. "Chloe, I have to be honest," she eventually gets out, "I didn't have many friends growing up, and none that I could ever consider very close. I've always sort of been the odd one out, and so it… it's difficult… for me to sort of comprehend the idea that anyone would willingly go out of their way to try and get to know me - the real me.
"The real me, who, truthfully, I haven't quite figured out myself. And I can't say I have much personal experience or knowledge in what it means to be a friend… the kind of friends you want us to be, but I can admit to feeling this weird sort of attachment to you that I don't get with other people. I do want us to be friends, and I want us to be close and to know you better… I just don't know if I'll be any good at it…"
Chloe doesn't know whether or not to be heartbroken over Beca's confession of loneliness, or thrilled at being given the chance to be the remedy for it. She instead settles for something a little in between, reaching across the table to lay her hand atop the younger woman's, warmth blossoming in her chest as Beca slowly rotates her wrist and shyly lets her palm rest in her own.
"Friendship isn't easy for anyone, even for those of us who are more… social or interactive. It takes time, patience, and dedication to make it work. But I can assure you," Chloe smiles, eyes locking with the DJ, "you're off to a really great start."
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