charliepollock1357, Lackluster Brilliance, cxcxcx386, asdfg: I guess we're missing Beca more with that last scene.
avidreader: It's my pleasure to take you to another roller coaster. God, that sounds evil. LOL.
brittanysnodes, madness2013: Don't we just want to give her a hug? :(
Natali1798: What did I do?
MysticFalls94: I just hope my guts don't fail me. I can't think of any other way to start the series than continuing from where we left of - she was truly heartbroken and then there was a rose! It's like, her senses convince her that Beca's gone, but her heart just wouldn't accept it. That for me is captivating.
NightmareWalker: I have to admit the breathing thing was stalker-ish, and I even included it into writing. But in this context, I find it really spellbinding how one simple breathing could totally change a person. I wanted to illustrate in the most possible way that even through [a pretentious] death, Beca and Chloe had a very strong connection. No words or physical existence required, just one quiet breathing. I hope I was able to convey that.
Guest (Feb 14): Oh she will definitely be back! :)
itsmefiebs: It just worries me if ever people start making comparisons.
BeChloeFan01: Exactly, dear. I'm glad you felt that, too.
badwriters: Thank you for reading Stolen! There will be a happy ending this time, I can promise you.
ShesArmed: So am I.
theothergranger: When one doesn't always have your side and rub off to your face how pathetic you can be then still end up feeling disappointed when she had no way to make you happy... that's the truest of friendship.
CHAPTER TWO: Ghost
"Boo."
Stan seriously backed away in apprehension at the sight of a petrifying Ghostface-gone-wrong after opening the front door of the motel room he had to share with Fat Amy and Jesse. In his defense, it wasn't even Halloween yet or April Fool's! Learn to use the peephole, he mentally reminded himself.
"Mom," he groaned as Ghostface removed the mask to reveal the very amused expression on his mother's face. She was annoyingly laughing her lungs out.
"You should have seen your face, dear."
"What are you doing here, mom?" questioned the young Mitchell shaking his head in averseness when the woman had already crossed the invisible barrier between the outside world and the living room. He didn't want a visitor or company, by the way.
"God, you sounded like Beca."
Ronie had a grimace on as if being close to the monster's likeness was the most terrible thing in the planet, and Stan couldn't help but grunt because it was tactlessly true.
"I am going to cook dinner for you," she smirked and waltzed into the kitchen carrying the paper bags all by herself. Her son had no other choice but to trail behind her. "When you were a kid, you used to be so obsessed with peanut butter and jelly. They were your favorite! But no, we're not going to eat sandwiches for dinner. I just thought the idea would entice you."
"I'm fine," he muttered scratching the back of his head coyly.
"Actually, it's just take-out food," she confessed ignoring the silent plea from him.
"Mom, really, I'm fine."
"It's Thai."
"Mom!" Stan yelled out though quickly stopped himself before saying anything more stupid, letting out a deep sigh as he strained to avoid his mother's eyes. He didn't mean to. "I'm not hungry… I'm sorry."
And it was Ronie's turn to take a deep breath and asked, "What are you doing here?"
"I live here," he mumbled the obvious answer.
"Seriously, Stan, what the hell are you doing here?"
Something about it implied that it was more than just being in the room or eating take-out food with his mother because she was serious, not being her goofy self but acting like a real parent this time around.
"I know your friends went out tonight... including Chloe, and you're here locking up."
"I lost a father and a sister," he stated just in case everybody forgot about it. He had an impeccably rational reason for locking up.
"Well, Chloe lost her everything."
And Stan kept his mouth shut to the glaring truth.
"She's trying whatever she can to not be this ridiculous," he had to endure another lecture which sucked. "And newsflash: I, too, lost Beca and Phil. We all lose people we love, Stan. I know it hurts, but that's just how life works. Then you're supposed to be moving on, not shutting people out! You can't be living with the ghosts of the past. They're… ghosts."
"If you're tired of consoling-"
Ronie cut him off straightaway, "You are an idiot if you think I'll ever get tired of you. You're my son! And that's why I need you to stop this crap now. Give me the chance to be your mom again, and let me help you. But then you have to help yourself, too."
If only she could tell him the entire truth.
"You've always been my mother," he assured her holding her hands. "You know, even when we all thought you're already dead, it never changed. It's just that… during that night, I… I had a father for the first time, mom. It was so fulfilling. Then it's just so frustrating that it was so brief I didn't even get to say I love him."
"Phil knew you do, and he did love you. He didn't tell you as much as Fat Amy and Aubrey, but… he did, Stan. He loved you just as much as he loved your sister."
"Now he's gone."
"And you should understand that it wasn't Jesse's fault," she said ignoring the groan and the disregard on her son's face. "If there was anything that boy did, it was to protect you… because that's what friends do."
He gave his mother one more look before staring down at the floor. Stan knew she was right, took him over a year to finally let it sink in. Truth was it's been there all along in his subconsciousness. Perhaps, after all, maybe he only needed an excuse to be pathetic for once, to get mad at the entire universe because as his mother suggested, this was how life worked – so unfair. Damn it, he was starting to think like his sister, too!
"I don't know about you there but Mr. Ghostface and I here," Ronie paused to position the mask comfortably on the center of the dining table before settling on a chair with great enthusiasm, "are going to enjoy this lovely dinner. Let's all pretend I cooked this myself… unless it tastes bad."
And so his goofy of a mother was back. Stan chuckled and shook his head in hilarity while dragging his feet towards the table to join her for dinner. He glanced at her for the first time in his new life. He bid goodbye to the ghosts of the past; he didn't need them anymore. He only needed the people he didn't lose, his mother to start with and then there were his friends; they were his family.
Quincy Tanner was two hundred percent sure that he plummeted into his expensive and comfy couch before completely passing out, that was his very last memory. Okay, he was drunk, but he was so damn sure about it. So in his most possible sober state, he wondered what on earth was he doing in the kitchen and his entire body sprawled all over the dining table? The soft sound of beat box patterns created the impression that he was dreaming, yet the taste of blood in his mouth was all too real. He shut his eyes wide open and was shocked to see himself being secured in place with large duct tapes by an Asian woman.
"Who are you?" he asked with hiss. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, bitch?"
But it was as if she didn't even notice him at all except from the fact that she continued to wrap the tape around him until the roll had ultimately ran out. He shook his body, struggled to get out of the trap but to no avail.
"Get me fucking out of here!" he was practically yelling.
The woman slowly directed her big and perfectly round brown eyes towards him and murmured, "Ssh. You'll wake the neighbors up, Mr. Tanner."
"What?"
He couldn't hear a thing. He could swear her lips moved to speak, but her voice was incredibly inaudible even during this very noiseless time of the night.
"What the fuck do you want from me?" he tried to question once again trying to sound bolder and more powerful in an attempt to scare her off. At least intimidate her. "I'm fucking telling you, you don't want to mess with me… I'm a Syndic! If you kill me now, the Syndicate will surely come hunt you down. You hear that? They will fucking kill you!"
Right at the very end of that sentence, the Syndic received a jaw dropping punch from out of nowhere. The enormous pain he had to wince through implied that he had already received more than necessary before he drifted back to consciousness. That should explain his ruptured lips.
"That's not how you talk to a lady, bastard," another voice filled the atmosphere. It was deep and extremely masculine as it was. Soon, a gigantic man, possibly at least six feet and six inches in height, became more visible to the naked eye. He could easily pass as a bouncer or a professional wrestler merely by his physical appearance, and it was enough to make the hostage essentially shudder in fear. "No wonder you still don't have a wife at forty-two. Who wants a filthy drunkard jackass for a husband, right?"
Quincy let out a chuckle to cover for his terror and avoid the inclination to stammer his flustered words. "So… w-what the fuck do you want from me, Vin Diesel?"
"His name is Thud," the Asian woman informed, but of course, nobody heard her. "I'm Lilly Onakuramara."
Thud took his gun out, filled the magazine with cartridges, loaded it as the hostage intently watched, and set it on the table next to Quincy's hand, just a few centimeters away, like an intended form of false hope. If only he wasn't wrapped with sticky duct tapes, it would have been easier for the Syndic to simply reach for the gun and kill the pair of intruders.
"What the fuck do I want from you? It's actually quite simple, Tanner. You see, you have information that my boss needs to know. Badly. So fucking badly."
"And what is it?"
"Where's your boss, Tanner? Where on earth is Bumper Allen?"
Quincy slid his head into a more convenient position wherein he could check on whatever expression there was upon the big guy's face. Shit, he was serious.
"And why would I tell you?"
Provoking Andre the Giant was a bad idea. Quincy got another hard punch for it, lost a tooth that he almost swallowed, and coughed more blood out of his windpipes. Thankfully, Thud stopped immediately. Maybe he was being merciful. No, probably because another sound of footsteps was closing in. The Syndic shut his eyes tightly so when he opened them, he could see the arrival through the dark much clearer.
"No." He could only wish that what he was witnessing was nothing more but a terrifying nightmare. "T-This can't be."
If he wasn't tied into place, he would have bolted out of his own house, run away as fast as he could, away from this dangerous monster. Forget about the muscular man, this tiny creature was the real deal. He could die in an instant.
"But you're already dead!"
Quincy hoped the rumors weren't true. He could hope he was looking right at a ghost. Unluckily for him, this woman was indeed Beca Mitchell, and the knife she just plunged into his thigh was just as real, and so was the electric drill she had in hand. This was taking too much time than she could tolerate.
"What the fuck are you gonna do to me, Phoenix?"
"If you could have just cooperated with me earlier," muttered Thud. He was honestly feeling sorry. "She's not exactly patient, Syndic."
The mighty Phoenix directed her blank stare towards the hostage as she removed the Phillips screw driver from the drill. She reached for the counter and soon a masonry drill bit was being attached into the chunk. Anticipating the worst, Quincy cried for mercy and screamed for help but Thud purposely shoved an apple into the Syndic's mouth; Lilly plugged it in, and so the drilling began. Beca casually drove the tool into the hostage's shoulder creating a hole deep into his skin, his muscles, his bones; fresh hot blood splattering everywhere.
"I'll talk! I'll talk!" he desperately screamed out against the piece of fruit stuck in between his teeth. "I'll fucking talk!"
Thud removed the apple and questioned with a sense of mockery, "You were saying?"
"I'll fucking talk, you fucking butchers!"
And so Beca switched off the drill and huffed. Why did he have to wait for her to build a bloody tunnel into his shoulder before talking? Idiot.
"N-Nobody knows… exactly where he is," Quincy tried to speak as he tried to catch his breath. "Bumper and… the others… t-they're switching locations from time to time. The… police are after them."
"What about the treasure?" inquired the giant in behalf of his typically speechless boss.
"I don't know about the fucking treasure!"
Beca immediately switched on the drill once more. Just the first few roars and it already sounded like a requiem for the poor Syndic. He struggled to get out of the duct tapes because if the mighty Phoenix threatened to craft another hole into his body, she would surely do it. True enough, the broiling drill bit started to penetrate the skin upon his stomach.
"No fucking treasure yet!" he yelled in great torment. "They haven't found it!"
And the drilling fortunately came to end.
"Bumper needs to find the treasure to be at least as rich as he was before you put him down! But they have no lead. They're just hunting some people down, tracing that fucking Benji's transactions before he became a dead man. That's all the fuck I know!"
Nonchalantly, with that same emotionless state, Beca dropped the drill on the floor and walked out of the house without a single word.
"We still have to kill you though," Thud flashed a sinister grin at the guy who would soon be roasted inside his own kitchen before soaking him with fuel.
Meanwhile, Beca stood next to Cynthia-Rose who was waiting as a lookout at the doorstep. The dark-skinned woman immediately showed the blinking red dot on the screen of a tracking device. She seemed a little troubled, but the other was, as expected, too calm about it.
"Yo. If Lilly's device is correct, the police are on their way. Besides, some of the households turned their lights on. At least one has possibly called in to report already."
The cold-blooded creature, as usual, made no response. Several seconds more, Lilly emerged out of the house followed closely by Thud who poured the remaining fuel over the porch. Along with Cynthia-Rose, he began to march away long before Lilly who enjoyed lighting up fires for fun, could throw a lighter in causing the house to be gradually swarmed by fire. Beca, on the other hand, coolly pulled a cigarette out of her breast pocket, lit it up with the aid of the burning post then joined her new team into the darkness.
"Here are your keys, boss," the man tossed them to the Head Phoenix.
Beca subsequently hopped into her precious convertible – a beautifully restored shiny black 1962 Ferrari 250 GT California Spyder – and spoke her first words in three days, "Don't call me 'boss'."
"What should I call you then?"
But then she was back to being her normally quiet self. She started the engine, exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke, and drove off.
"Should I call her 'buddy' or something? But she's the Head Phoenix!"
Thud presented the dilemma before Cynthia-Rose because for one, she had known Beca the longest, and second, even if Lilly gave out an answer, he wouldn't hear a thing. Unfortunately though, the old Phoenix simply shrugged her shoulders as soon as they got into the old van much to the guy's disappointment. So many years of working with the mighty Phoenix, but even up to this point, CR honestly still couldn't read Beca's mind. Especially not when she was being her old bulletproof character.
"Cheers to unemployment!"
Fat Amy howled as she raised her glass of strawberry smoothie that she hoped Chloe would pay for at the end of the night. Her friends, including those customers from the other tables, threw her an odd look, and the only reason Jesse raised his can of soda was because she elbowed him right on the rib; Aubrey reluctantly complied while Chloe giggled as she raised her own cup of coffee.
"I told you it's not for long," the other blonde contended. "I can get you a job at my father's company. You're both, like, super talented with computers. He'll hire you in no time."
"We're criminals," Jesse reminded in a whisper in case somebody would overhear.
"Psh... He doesn't have to know that."
Aubrey frantically fanned herself with her newly-manicured nails before taking a big gulp of water. Her father would surely kill her if he ever found out about it, let alone that she'd been hanging out with these kinds of people at a filthy local diner which used to be a crime scene by the way. It's not a good image for a Posen.
"But I'm enjoying the bum life," whined Fat Amy. "Look at you two, you don't have jobs but you're, like, super rich. Give it some time, I bet I'll be fucking rich, too."
"Uh… we do have jobs, Fat Amy," Chloe tried to explain. "People pay us to make an appearance on their TV shows or events or parties or whatever, and we also appear on magazines and endorse stuff. That's work for us."
"And they pay you real good?" the Australian blonde inquired and received a pair of nods. "Lucky bitches."
"My father will certainly like you," lied the Posen heiress with a matching smug.
"Forget it, mate. I don't want to work for your father. I mean, you're already practically a psycho, so what do you expect from King of the Posens? I'd rather work here at the diner and get free meals everyday. Besides, who needs a fucking job anyway? I'm living the dream, suckers!"
"We owe Richard Posen a fortune," Jesse muttered then munched into his cheeseburger.
"Shut it, Jesse!" Fat Amy elbowed him again for popping out her happy bubbles and sighed. Freaking life after The Secret Society. It was actually awfully much better back then. They didn't have to worry about anything else; they just had to do their part on every mission. Suddenly, their money bags were draining. Fast.
"I happen to have a job offer for you," the redhead offered from out of the blue. "It's not an exciting adventure to the wilderness – I mean, the opportunity to work with the Posens like what Aubrey offers, but I'll give you a good pay for it."
"Shoot," the pair of IT experts sat up to listen. It felt like an orientation for a new mission all over again except there was no scary Phil anymore. May he rest in peace.
Chloe reached for her bag and scrambled through the items in search for the essential element for the offered job while her friends waited patiently including Aubrey who was secretly dying out of curiosity. What the hell was her best friend up to this time? Before long, the employer was holding up a small piece of pink-colored paper.
"You think you can track this phone number for me?" she asked sliding the paper towards the experts.
"This is a piece of cake, Chloe."
Excellent, Chloe smiled. She took a sip on her coffee while Jesse and Fat Amy eagerly ogled at the screen of the pocket PC device waiting for it to process the typed in number.
"Is there anything you're not telling me?" Aubrey interrogated.
"It's…" her best friend's voice trailed off as she racked her brain for a convincing alibi for it. "You know... just a phone number."
Fat Amy only reached for the fries when the continued beeping erupted. The result was in and so all four instinctively leaned closer together for the big reveal.
"Nothing," the Australian chick announced, surprised herself by the result clearly displayed on the tiny screen. "The phone number doesn't exist."
Chloe could only gasped in a mixture of disbelief and disappointment, "What do you mean it doesn't exist?"
"It's like a fake number… only it's real," explained Jesse and instantly panicked at the confused expression on both heiresses' faces. "Uh… i-it appears on all records, the telecommunication company's and even on the government's, but it's untraceable… You know, the phone number is right there, but it isn't. I-It's like… a ghost!"
"A ghost?" Aubrey snorted at the thought of it.
"That's right," the other blonde nodded her head in serious affirmation though. "It's a ghost. Metaphorically… May be literally as well... Fuck, that's scary."
The Posen heiress turned to her best friend, alarmed, and questioned, "Where'd you get it anyway?"
"It's been calling me," Chloe told a pinch of truth, but left the rest of it to herself. She didn't want them to know that she'd been obsessed about it. Ever since it first called, she'd been getting them almost every night. Every call was the same – speechless, just quiet breathing – and it was supposed to freak her out already. Instead, they calmed her to sleep just like that. "I just want to know who it is."
"Maybe it's Beca," Fat Amy innocently suggested earning herself a death glare from the so-called blonde bitch because then Chloe's face shot up like she was seriously considering the idea. "What? I meant ghost Beca, not alive Beca. Don't be silly, people. She's burned-to-ashes-and-buried-in-an-urn-inside-a-metal-casket-six-feet-under-the-ground dead. Oh, and ghost Beca sure would be creepy like hell. An immortal Dothraki warrior. I'm going to pee my pants if she ever called me from the underworld. They've got a very nice reception though."
But no, Chloe was already considering the idea. Her little hope was growing.
"You know what?" Jesse chimed in to clear out their muddled heads. "This is probably just a glitch. I'll update the data when we get home then we'll find a match for it after that. I'll let you know when the job is done, Chloe."
She smiled gratefully and nodded her head absentmindedly. The guy neatly tucked the small piece of pink-colored paper into his empty wallet. The redhead, however, took her phone and began covertly punching in the numbers - she'd even memorized them already - then deliberately paused after the last digit. The name was still blank. What would she type into it? She sneaked a glance at her friends especially at Aubrey just to make sure nobody was looking then closed her eyes as she bravely typed in a name. A few moments later, she opened them and there it was glaring back at her – Beca.
"Hey."
All four reflexively turned to the side and dropped their jaws in shock. A young Mitchell stood by their booth, a sly smile creeping out for them.
"I hope I'm not late… over a year too late."
"Stan!" they chorused in so much excitement; who cared when the rest of the diner was eyeing the group with the third degree? Stan Mitchell was back! That's all that mattered.
Fat Amy hurriedly pushed Jesse off his seat to make room for Stan; Aubrey, however, alertly enclosed the newly-arrived member of the group at the opposite end much to the Australian's dismay; hence, Chloe gladly scooted over to welcome poor Jesse to her side of the booth – it would seem like they would only have each other from this point forward when the others were clearly preoccupied with stuff already. As expected, the pair of blondes kicked off with their competition right away – the heiress offered anything that money could buy while the IT expert showered the man of the hour with sense of humor.
"Hey," Stan took a break and turned towards the only other guy at the booth. "Swanson."
Jesse, startled by the fact that he wasn't invisible to him anymore, frenziedly turned around to either sides just in case there happened to be another 'Swanson' in the diner. His redheaded seatmate, nonetheless, encouragingly nodded her head to confirm that the spotlight was indeed focused on nobody else but him.
"Y-Yeah?"
"I just want to say that," the young Mitchell surprisingly offered a hand to his old friend, "I would have done the same thing for you, man."
The IT expert was beyond speechless; the little gesture of shaking the hand waiting for him and the undeniably rewarding grin plastered on his face was the only indication that he was more than blissful for this reunion, and who cared when everybody else was giving them odd looks once more because the rest of the group were whooping madly?
"Wait, where's CR?" asked Stan later on.
"She left," the two blondes unintentionally spoke in unison. "She said she has to go fix some personal stuff."
"Oh," he said pursing his lips sexily in that oblivious manner. "I thought The Society was her only... personal stuff."
"She wanted to say goodbye to you," Chloe told him.
"I guess I missed a lot of things."
"The good thing is that you're back!" Fat Amy highlighted the news, a rational excuse to wrap an arm around him. "We're back, baby!"
Aubrey anxiously pushed the chubby arms off the guy, "The only we here is Stan and I."
Chloe was cracking up at her seat as Stan horrifyingly begged Jesse for rescue who apologetically returned with a helpless shrug while the two blondes screamed at each other. It felt like the old times. If only the mighty Phoenix was there too. She would have hated everything about it except from the redheaded monster's presence.
"Come on, Stan." The Posen heiress grabbed him by the hand and dragged him away from the booth. "Let's go somewhere that doesn't have 'heart attack' written all over their menu."
"Hey, I actually like this place!" Fat Amy defended the diner and followed out. "And I'm coming wherever you're taking him, slutbag."
Jesse let out a heavy sigh, "I skipped high school for this."
"This is much better," Chloe gave him a pat on the shoulder, chuckling in delight. She took some cash out of her bag , left it on the table, and stood up. "Come on, Jesse. Stan needs us. We don't want him to stay away forever, do we?"
The brunet finished his drink in one long gulp and compulsorily trailed behind the young heiress. That was convenient because when they reached the door, Chloe accidentally bumped into this gigantic man with biceps that were as big as beach balls and almost flew away at the impact, Jesse easily caught her before a tragic fall. If the horrible monster was here, this Nathan Jones would regret it.
"Chloe, are you okay?"
She nodded her head as an assurance but was easily distracted by the fact that the big and frightening man was frantically searching for something he might have dropped on the floor. He looked so scared that it didn't fit his behemoth appearance. Thankfully, his companion, an Asian woman with long silky black hair and big round eyes, came to his rescue murmuring something inaudible as she picked up a small red box from the space next to Chloe's foot and handed it over to him.
"Must give this to boss before I lose it," he said before heading into the diner forgetting all along that he almost killed someone with his concrete wall of a body.
The Asian woman turned to the pair of stunned strangers and moved her lips to speak in an incredibly soft voice, "That's Thud and he's probably sorry about what happened."
"What?" Jesse furrowed his eyebrows in confusion because he couldn't make out anything. But she was already on her way passed them to go after her friend.
Meanwhile, Chloe's mind was already drifting away. She recognized the small red box. It was a Dunhill Top Leaf cigarette packet, exactly what her Beca used to smoke before. And there were thousands of smokers in the world who could have certainly shared the same preference, but there had to be a reason why her heart was racing wildly, hopeful and anticipating. The urge to turn around was alarmingly right around the corner.
"Come on, let's get you out of here."
Before she could decide to do something stupid like stalking the pair of strangers perhaps, Jesse had already ushered her out of the diner to meet the trio at the parking lot. She never got the chance to turn around after that. But she should have. And then she should have found the ghost she was looking for.
So close! And cruel, I know. LOL. A little trivia: I originally planned to continue Stan's animosity towards Jesse at least for a little more, but it just doesn't feel right without him in the group. And it's interesting to note that it was Stan's first one-on-one conversation with Ronie.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Perfect.