Max slowly roused the next morning, her otherwise deep and contented sleep disrupted by an intense dream near dawn. She couldn't help but feel a nagging sensation, as if some of her suppressed memories were rattling loose. She'd definitely made it to New York City, - although she still couldn't understand how she'd gotten there so quickly - and she had a vague recollection about trying to track someone - or was it something? - down. Beyond that, everything receded into a foreboding haze, leaving her instinctively fearing any possible return to the Damocles Initiative.
Damnit, I still can't remember most of it. Wish I took a minute to collect my thoughts right after I had that dream, but when I woke up earlier this morning...was too damn tired to care.
She glanced over to her friend, who was still zonked out; it was only then that Max noticed her hand was clasping Chloe's. She didn't remember falling asleep that way; it must have happened sometime during the night. Not that she minded. Quite the opposite. It brought a smile to her face, and made her blush as well, for some reason she couldn't put her finger on.
But she was up now, her body used to waking up at a specific time in the morning, and on top of that, she seriously needed to pee! Carefully, reluctantly disengaging her fingers from Chloe's, she hobbled off to the bathroom, sat down, and began to consider her next steps as she relieved herself.
So what should I do now?
This was a new thing for her; over the past five years, she'd have days off, but few ways to spend the time. Now, she was essentially mistress of her own destiny; both a legal adult and outside of the stifling grasp of the US Government. While she couldn't go hog wild, she was honestly freer than she'd ever been in her entire life.
I should totally leave, though. Make plans, buy some supplies, figure out how to stay one step ahead . Go to the bank, get out as much money as I can, and burn rubber. Just...just get up and go, and run, and keep running, and don't stop.
Still, she couldn't shake the weird feeling that maybe she didn't have to immediately flee Arcadia Bay. Oh, eventually she'd have to, sure. There was no way around it. But instinctively, she couldn't make herself feel the tension, the pressure, the fear of being caught. It was almost like part of her brain knew something it wasn't telling the rest of her.
Also? It is so awesome to be back, and hanging with Chloe! There's a ton of stuff we still need to talk about. Do. I mean, as long as I don't go crazy, and I keep my head down, they won't find me for a while. A few days at least. I mean...they know I was too scared to come back to town, so...it makes sense, doesn't it? That it might be a little while before they went to look for me. I mean, after all, I somehow made it from New York City to Arcadia Bay in...uhh...um...
The longer she thought the problem through, she more she became aware of how strange it all was.
Okay, now wait a sec! I know I was in New York City in the middle of the night on Monday because I have an ATM receipt showing it. But then I pop up in Chloe's truck, or so she tells me, around - what was it? - nine or ten in the morning local time, so that's like noon on the East Coast. Commercial flights don't usually take off until five in the morning at the earliest, and it's a seven or eight hour flight from New York to Portland. Drive from the airport to Arcadia bay is almost two hours so...no. No way could I have made a commercial flight in time and then all the driving.
Maybe a private jet? Assuming I left at four, and it was top of the line. Something like a Cessna Citation X, which can go almost the speed of sound...thank you spy school, for teaching me these weird things, by the way. And then if it diverted to a private airport...
"Ugh! Damnit!" she groaned in frustration, tugging at her hair. She was grasping at straws at this point.
But she still couldn't escape the indescribable feeling that she'd been in Arcadia Bay a lot longer than she could remember. An amount of time that should point to the impossible.
Biting down on her lip, Max made up her mind.
One more day. I'll stay one more day, and then I'll leave tomorrow. Probably best not to tell Chloe...she'll...she'll wanna talk me out it, and I wouldn't blame her for trying.
She rose up, washed her hands and face, took a swig of mouthwash...
...guh! First thing I get is a toothbrush! Mouth feels so gross right now.
...flushed the toilet and then headed back into Chloe's bedroom.
Closing the door gently behind her, she sat back down in front of the laptop, and began to browse around, still checking for any signs about New York. The city and the surrounding metropolis remained stubbornly, delightfully explosion free. After that, she found herself randomly clicking on various sites, news stories, and aimlessly roaming the web. During her captivity at Zion Control, she was only give access to an extremely limited subset of the Internet; now faced with unlimited choice, she found she was completely unsure of what to look up first.
She felt a tapping on her shoulder, glanced up, and saw a sleepy Chloe trying to catch her attention.
"Morning, Che." Max murmured with a smile.
"Hey. Looking for something in particular?"
Max shook her head. "No. Just...I just never had free reign on the Internet like this before. Or, at least for a long time. And now, I can't think of anything good to search for."
Chloe laughed lightly and said, "Alright, just...you're not looking at my browser history, are you?"
"What? No!"
"Good." Chloe said. "I believe you. But...if you did, for some weird reason, don't freak or judge, okay? Because I write sometimes, you know, and I have to look up things, so that I get details right. As a writer."
"Oh christ, Chloe, I don't care about the midget-elephant pornography you're looking up, or whatever it is." Max shook her head again. "Oh! I could look up porn! Naaah. Too easy. Wowser..."
Max paused, staring hard at the screen and then groaned, covering up her face with a hand. "Oh shit, Che. This is so pathetic. Look at me. I have no life, no interests, or like...fucking hobbies. I spent so many years trying to get through this crazy training shit that the government put me through. God." She gave a heavy, wistful sigh. "Where do I even start? How do I take the pieces of my life and put them back together?," She gave a shrug. "Maybe it's for the best I don't think too hard on that. Given that I'm just gonna have to hit the road and keep running, in, uh, in a day...or...two."
Damnit! Let it slip already!
Chloe said nothing in reply to Max's statement about leaving. She instead glanced about her desk and smiled, reaching over to grab an old, white instant camera, which she then held out.
Glancing over with a confused look on her face, Max took it.
"This is my Dad's camera."
"Oh!" Max exclaimed. "I thought it looked familiar. This was the one he used when he took that last picture of us."
Chloe nodded. "Yeah. I remember how much you used to drool over it, and the talks you and he had, about becoming a photographer. Going to Blackwell, studying. I mean, that was your plan, right? Before all this shit happened?
Max held the camera against her chest, bit down on her lip and nodded once. "...I suppose it was. I don't know about is. I don't know what I want out of life right now, other than the chance to find the answer to that question. Funny, it's so fucked up, this kind of Stockholm Syndrome I got into. Right up near the end, I was actually happy to be only half a slave instead of a full one, looking forward to this whole plan of being a field agent, with this cover story of owning a gym and being an MMA instructor. Or something."
Chloe flopped onto the edge of her bed. "Hey, don't knock it. MMA instructor sounds like a cool life story!"
Max traced her fingers over the camera, familiarizing herself anew with its smooth, cool surface. "Yeah, but, that was only an extension of my real job. It was only because it's all I knew what to do. I mean, photography didn't even occur to me...but...now."
As if by instinct, she raised the camera up, peering through the viewfinder. Took the time to try and compose the shot, putting Chloe - who was more than happy to smile and lean back in a casual pose on the bed - more to the right of the frame, as opposed to directly in the center of the shot. Pressed down on the button, and was rewarded with the satisfying click and whirr of the camera spitting out a film square.
Shaking it out, she stared in wonder at the picture as it slowly resolved itself from a muddled murk of browns and greys into a vibrant slice of life.
"How'd it feel, Maxima?" Chloe asked.
"G-good. Yeah. Good." Max responded. "Familiar. Like listening to your favorite song for the first time in forever, and suddenly remembering everything good that you forgot about it." Short of finding Chloe, it was the most palpable sense of reconnecting and rediscovering her old life that she'd made thus far.
Chloe shook out her hair for a moment, and glanced to the side, almost shyly, "Um. I think that he'd want you to have it. My Dad I mean. The camera's been sitting on my desk for a long time now. Kinda surprised it still works. But maybe if you hit the road, and run around, you can take pictures of all the places you end up in, right? Find something to do with your life that's...you know, what you want to do." She rose up, and peered at the developed photo, lighting up. "Oh, damn woman! I think you've got an eye for detail or something. Look at that. Seriously, you make me look...I don't know. But it's totally one of the best pictures anyone's ever taken of me. Can , uh, can I have this one?"
It was Max's turn to blush now, all smiles as she bowed her head, regarding the camera in her lap. "S-sure. I just take the picture. You're the awesome subject." She handed it out to her. Then paused as an idea hit her.
"Oh shit! I don't have to worry about the Feds snooping my photos, if I don't take them with a camera phone. Damn...hold on!" She rose up, wrapped an arm around Chloe's waist, and then held the camera out at arm's length.
"Say cheese!" she called out.
Chloe threw up a peace sign, and laughed. "Maxaroni and Che you mean."
The camera clicked again, just in time for Max to dissolve into giggles. "God. I forgot about that one too! Che-Burger and Max the Mad. It's ahh..." she sat back down again, regarding the picture as it faded into view. "Five years is a long time, Chloe. A long damn time. Maybe it's 'cause we're young, but it felt like a lifetime. I just...can't believe it's over, you know? The Zion thing. I don't know what's going to happen, how long and how far I'm going to have to run in the end but..."
She paused, smiling sweetly as she regarded the photo: Taken at a slightly skewed angle, providing energy and a sense of off-kilter craziness to the mood. The two of them looked happy. Honestly, legitimately happy. Certainly, the brightest Max could recall seeing herself; she couldn't speak for Chloe, but given what little she'd seen of her friend's life over the past half-decade, she had to wonder about her as well.
Chloe deftly, delicately snagged the photo and studied it in the light. Gave a crooked smile and said, "I almost want to keep this one, too. Damn."
Max put the camera down. "I better save the film. And I don't know about you, but I'm kind of starving right now."
"Oh yeah. Yeah, totally. Um...I know! Let's head to the Two Whales. I know Joyce is working there today, for sure. You okay with that? I mean, trying to be all super-secret and shit?"
Max shrugged. "Your step-dad saw me, cat's out of the bag there." She rose up and started to head to the closet. "Still, I'll see if there's a hoodie in there that'll fit me, for walking around outside. Oh, and...uh...you mind if I borrow a pair of your underwear? Might be a bit big on me but, I need something at this point. Gotta hit a cheap clothes shop today, anyhow."
"Help yourself. I'm going to take a few minutes and medicate." Chloe reached over, digging into her stash box and pulling out another pre-rolled joint.
"Kinda early to be sparking up, isn't it?" Max smirked.
Chloe shrugged noncommittally. "Like I said, it's medicinal. Shit knows, I've got hella anxiety issues in my life."
Max paused for a minute, getting quickly dressed, as Chloe took a large toke. She walked back over, sat down next to the other girl, and said. "Not saying it to judge...shit. I totally sound like I'm judging, right? Sorry."
"You seemed to like it just fine yesterday afternoon, playa." Chloe laughed.
"Hah. Yeah. I did."
Handing over the joint to her, Chloe said, "C'moooon. Get buzzed up again. Just think of it this way: every hit you take, that's one more giant-sized middle finger you're giving to your former lords and masters, right? Wait, did I say that already? Yesterday? Eh, whatevs. Still true."
Max narrowed her eyes and reminisced. All the assholes, all the dicks and their fucked up behavior. The way they treated her. Wright and Martinet especially, but even Jenkowitz, and some of the security douches and...
She grabbed the joint and took as long a hit as she could stand, held it until she thought she might burst, and coughed it all out, gasping for breath.
"Viva la revolucion! Viva Max!" Chloe called out triumphantly, clapping her hands.
Still coughing up her lungs, Max croaked. "H-holy...shit. I immediately - *coughcoughCOUGH* - regret that." Coughing interspersed with laughter, she wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand.
"You'll regret it a lot less when the shit really kicks in, Maxima." Chloe said, taking another drag for herself, before handing it back.
"No doubt." Max responded, taking a much more judicious draw this time around.
By the time they were done sharing the joint, Max had an extremely pleasant buzz, thrumming from her head to her toes, a sense of lethargic relaxation, and a surprisingly strong dampening of giving a shit about All The Things. She wouldn't say she was wasted, but at the same time, she had absolutely no point of reference or much in the way of experience to judge it again. She wouldn't be much use in a fight at the moment, but that was okay; she was way, waaaaay too mellow to even think about violence. If anything, she had to suppress the urge to grin and giggle, or gape with awe at every little thing that caught her eye.
Definitely going to get more experience. Yeah. You know...just for comparison's sake.
As they started to head out the door, Max remarked. "I thought this stuff was supposed to make you paranoid or something?"
They hopped in the truck, and Chloe answered, "Yeah. Kinda. Depends on the strain for one thing. Obviously, this shit is calming and kind. But sharing a joint isn't anything like taking a bunch of bong rips or dabbing, or hot-knifing hash. I remember the first time I got hella overstoned. I was absolutely fucking convinced I was never gonna be right again, like I totally broke my brain. And I couldn't trust all the sensations coming from my body...like...like I remember washing my hands, and having the water way on cold because I was afraid any heat was going to burn me. Hot water just felt so good, and I couldn't trust it. Hell, at one point, I was convinced I burned myself, and spent half an hour just looking at my hands to check. Really fucking sucked! But, then I got over it. Didn't help that I was by myself at the time, so no one was there to talk me down. So situation is the third big thing. Having cool people around while you chill is absolutely the best. Just...hard for me, finding people worth hanging with. Except now I got you! At...at least for a day or two, right?" She tried her best to chase the sad, nervous expression away from her face.
Tucking a few errant strands of hair underneath her beanie, Chloe concluded, "Trust me, Max, if you smoke long enough, you're going to have it happen to you. Rite of passage." She paused, starting the truck engine, and slowly pulling out of the driveway. "Kinda related matter, sorry to be like a selfish sounding bitch about it...I mean I'm happy to share my stash with you Max, but I'm running low as it is. So if we're gonna keep smoking together, ummm...I need more cash." She then held up a hand, defensively, in anticipation of what Max might have said next. "I mean, I know you just gave me some money and that's cool, great! Don't think I'm an ungrateful asshole, but I gotta give that to Frank to pay him off, you know? So it's just..." she bowed her head, and murmured lamely. "Sorry. I really suck."
Max leaned against the door of the truck, staring out the window, more or less spacing out. She glanced over, and reached out a hand, comfortingly rubbing Chloe's leg. "You...don't...suck. You never sucked. You've always been awesome, Che." And she meant it. Maybe she hadn't seen her in five years, but she damn well knew Chloe as a person, her core, her deep down nature. From the first time Max had seen her in action as kids, she always had faith in her.
I mean geeze, her Dad dies...my fault for that, kinda, and she gets the world's worst stepdad in exchange, and then some other girl comes along and like...uses her and shit and...
Max felt a curious tightening in her chest, a sense of almost...panic? Anxiety? Gnawing need? The thought of this Rachel girl being - how would she describe it? - special? to Chloe just made Max...ugh! She couldn't put her finger on it, not through the warm, comforting haze of her marijuana buzz, but...
...she wasn't any good for her. Poor Chloe. God, if only I could have...
And now she was going to have to leave her alone again, in another day or so.
Fuck!
Realizing she'd fallen silent without meaning to, Max continued, "Seriously. You were awesome then, and you seem really awesome now, just - you're going through hard times. Believe me I know. And yeah, don't worry." She grinned lazily, "Your idea about scamming Keno actually sounded pretty cool. We can do that, make some money. Althoooough. Heh. Hee hee."
A giddy thrill went its way up her stomach as the part of her brain trained to consider 'out of the box' solutions kicked in.
Chloe smiled, a little misty, and murmured. "Th-thanks Max. I really missed you, you know? This is great. This is probably the best I've had it in almost a year. And, oh! I know that look. Is it cool? Does it involve time travel? Like traveling back to when weed was still legal, and bringing bales of it back!?"
Max started gigging, rubbing her face and arms floppily, before shaking her head. "N-no. Just...well...there's nothing stopping me from going to someone, pretending to buy weed, and as long as I grab the bag before they get the money, I could rewind away, and they'd never know I ripped them off."
Chloe stopped the car short, almost bringing it to a complete stop. Glanced around, and then pulled off to the side of the road.
"Wait. Wait, shit! Really? Like..."
"Like for cereal!" Max giggled again.
Chloe gazed at her with ferocious intensity. "How the hell does that even work? When you go back in time, doesn't the weed go away?" Chloe asked, incredulous.
Max shook her head emphatically. "Nope. When I carry stuff it's like, not part of normal space/time anymore. So I mean, say, if I go and buy something, and it's in my hands or on my person, and then rewind back ten minutes, it stays with me, but completely vanishes from wherever said thing was located ten minutes ago."
Chloe looked like she was about to hyperventilate from sheer joy.
"M-max. Okay, okay, okay, Max? Don't freak, okay. Let's all just chill, because this is perfect. This is perfect! You gotta do this, what I'm about to ask, okay? Not only is it hella cool, but it works because Frank doesn't know you, doesn't know you're my friend so...so so just..."
Max started laughing out loud. "Oh God, Chloe, you chill!"
"No! I'm serious, okay." The blunette started to laugh, despite herself. "This is gonna be amazeballs!"
Ten minutes later, Max found herself in front of a skeezy yet oddly familiar looking RV, in the back parking lot of the Two Whales diner; five hundred bucks in hand and a quick briefing from Chloe on what exactly to say to this guy, the mysterious Frank.
Max was excited and nervous, at least as much as the weed would allow, but she wasn't all that terrified. After years of becoming familiar with her powers, and just as many years of psych-ops training, she figured it would be a pretty easy thing.
I mean, piece of cake, right? It's no different than all the manipulation exercises that they put me through. This guy's just some stupid criminal thug. Anything goes wrong, I'll just rewind, try again. No problem. None at all.
In theory, it should be like taking candy from a baby.
In theory...
Uh, assuming the weed doesn't fuck up my powers. Oh..oh, shit. Maybe I should test it...okay...back a minute. Yup. Yup I just went back a minute. Okay wait, did I? Yeah, yeah I did. C'mon, obviously. Don't freak out now, Max, This is going to be totally fine, you haven't had a situation where your powers stopped temporarily working for over two years now. Uh..wait? Wait a second. I think? Gah! So easy! Just do it.
Wasting no further time, she rapped on the door, and acted casual. There was a loud barking that was quickly hushed. The door cracked just a bit, and a man's voice murmured low.
"Fuck you looking for?"
"Heyyyy." Max murmured, hands in her hoodie pockets, and just sort of swaying a little, back and forth. "You Frank, right? Ah...heh. Justin, he told me you're the guy to go see. Y'know? For herbal medication."
"I don't know any Justin, fuck off."
Wow. A paranoid drug dealer. Who would have guessed?
Flashing her winningest smile, and tapping into that lovely, mellow vibe still running up and down her brain, she laughed low. "Don't be that way, man. You know Justin. Skater boi, brownish hair, crappy 'statche. I mean, what the shit, you need him here to make introductions or something? C'mon, I got cash. Could be your cash, you know? Real quick."
Frank paused, clearly weighing the situation in his head. Max took it as a good sign that he didn't close the door and tell her to go away. After a few seconds, he pushed the door open a little more. Tall and lanky, maybe in his mid to late twenties, Frank had a scruffy blonde goatee to match his scruffy blonde hair. Beady, paranoid eyes raked her up and down, evaluating. "Alright. I'm trusting you. We make this fucking quick, and I'm not selling you anything but...ah...herbals. Got it?"
Max aimlessly toyed with her raven locks and bopped her head. "Yeah, yeah, s'cool. Whatevs, don't got a taste for the hard stuff anyhow."
"Hah, that's what they all say. Anyhow, get the fuck in quick."
She quickly scooted inside, then immediately regretted it when she came face to face with the snarling mutt inside.
AH JESUS...
"...Christ! Fuck kinda dog is that?!" Max jumped with a start.
"Pompidou, sit." Frank said, in a dominant but not aggressive voice, supplementing his command with a hand signal. The dog immediately sat, but glared at Max, clearly ready to pounce on her with ferocious intent if given the signal.
Max glanced curiously between the two, mind going to work to intuit the situation despite the lingering buzz still partially clouding her brain.
Huh. Guy knows how to handle dogs. Clearly has a knack for it. Can see it in his body language. Why does it not surprise me that the drug dealer is secretly a softy for dogs? Can't say I blame him, given how shitty people in general are.
Max still gave Pompidou a wide berth. Even with her rewind powers protecting her, she instinctively felt a pang of fear stabbing her in the gut. But she went with that, used it, because it would be the expected response in this situation, from the character she was playing.
"N-n-nice doggie..heh...heh." She sat down on the chair Frank motioned to; he couldn't help but smirk at her response.
"Alright girl, make this fucking quick, I don't have time to dick around."
Max bit down on her lip, and began, "Yeah, right, so...it's my birthday at the end of the week..." Technically, this was true; according to her lifeclock, she'd be biologically nineteen sometime this week, depending on how many more hours she ended up burning off.
"Don't care." Frank interrupted. "Just tell me what me what the hell you want to buy, not your life story.
Max adopted an air of extra bravado, as she assumed someone in her position would, "Just an ounce of your top shelf shit. Justin was raving about this stuff you sold him last month it was called...ah...uh...fuck. Can't remember. But, I'm not picky, you know?" she flashed him a dazed smile.
Frank snorted, crooked his lips into an unkind smile. "I'll bet you're not. Well, I've got Girl Scout Cookies. Straight from Colorado. Cost you four-fifty. Take it or leave it."
Oh my God. Seriously? Girl Scout Cookies? That's what they call it? Geezus, that just sounds kinda...embarrassing.
One of the first things that Reese taught her when she was learning how to do this sort of work was...
"...always reject the first offer. Seriously Max, no matter how reasonable it seems, no matter what your ultimate goal is, always reject it out of hand and try to negotiate. The kind of people you might have to deal with in undercover work, they're on the lookout to see if you're overly eager. If you don't try and fight them a bit, it'll get their paranoia humming. They're expecting you to try and screw them over, just a little, the same way they're trying to screw you. It's all part of the game."
Max threw up her hands and whined. "Awww God...maaaan. But it really is seriously gonna be my birthday. And you know that's high for shit, especially when the state next door's got it legal. Can't ya knock off like fifty...?"
"No. Fuck you." Frank interjected. "Don't like it, then feel free to take your biz to any of the other fine purveyors in Arcadia Bay." He paused for a moment, then smiled viciously. "Oh right, it's just me. Don't like it, then drive your ass to Washington state. Otherwise, four-fifty. Try to talk me down again on it, and I'll kick your ass out."
"Fine!" Max groaned with feigned disgust, and then pulled out four crisp one-hundred dollar bills, flanked by a couple of fifties. "See?" she said, holding them out. "Legit, yeah?"
"Allll right. I do believe we can work together..." he started to reach out, but Max pulled the cash back.
"Eh-eh-eh! I showed you mine, you show me yours. Fair's fair, right? Show me an ounce of the good stuff."
He glared at her sideways, then raised his hands in ascent. "Right. Fine. You got me there. You just keep your ass in that chair while I head into the back. Otherwise..." he canted his head towards the dog.
Taking a moment to finally get a good look at her surroundings, Max shook her head, wondering how the hell he could live like this. It was the smell that got her first before the grubby dirt and the unclean looking surfaces in the interior of the RV; all wet dog and body odor. So gross!
Still, he's freer now than you've been for the past five years. Guy gets to live where he wants, picks up and drives if he doesn't like where he's at. There's something to be said for that.
Returning with a stash box and a scale, the scent of marijuana hit her like a wave as he unsealed a fancy looking glass jar. It was earthy, skunky, with undercurrents of citrus. Sharp. At least it covered up the worst of the stank inside, so for that she was grateful. He expertly measured out several of the fat buds, and then moved the scale over so she could see the read out.
"See? Twenty eight point six grams. I threw in the extra because it's your birthday." Frank drawled mockingly.
Max made sure to frown suspiciously, to act as if she were expecting to be set up or cheated. Hell, for all she knew, he was shorting her, but it was imperative she act accordingly.
"Dunno...seems a little light to me, man."
He took some off the scale. "Now it's twenty-three grams, but you still have to pay me the full four-fifty. You wanna keep at it, little girl?"
"Jesus fuck! Fine, fine, you win. Shit!"
She could practically hear Reese evaluating her actions in her mind.
"Good. Nice touch Max, give him a chance to bare his teeth, show dominance, make himself the big dog. It'll lower his guard. Well played."
Hell, now Max was absolutely gleeful at the notion that she was going to totally screw him over on this deal, scott free.
Man, drug dealers are assholes!
"Damn right. I always win." he chuckled, and began to seal the remaining material up in a ziplock baggie. Clutched it tight in his hand, and extended the other one expectantly. "The cash, please?"
Max's mind whirled, trying to figure out the best exit strategy based on the variables at hand. She desperately wished she'd thought to bring one of her guns; the Desert Eagle certainly looked more intimidating, but was harder to conceal. There was the much more suitable Glock, in its spine holster back at Chloe's house, where it was doing her precisely zero good.
She could easily take this burnout in a fight; fuck, she could take three of him down. It was the dog that complicated matters. There was already a sick, lurching sensation in her stomach, as she realized what she'd probably have to do, in order to make this work. She was going to have to push hard past her squeamishness in order to pull it all off. Hell, if she actually did start this new life, running and surviving on the road, chances were good she was going to have to do some things that were going to make her hate herself: steal, lie, cheat. If she let her conscience constantly get in the way, she was going to be dead inside a week.
Consider this your trial by fire.
Max held out the money, moving slowly. Then feinted, grabbing his wrist, and quickly snapping it with vicious, trained precision. Frank roared in agony, but it had the desired effect: she was easily able to snag the baggie and make her way to the door.
Pompidou was on her in a heartbeat; untrained, she would have easily panicked, but she, much to her dismay, knew exactly where to kick out to disable an attack dog, or at least stun it temporarily; the steel toes in her boots delivering a crunch that might normally have been satisfying, except that it did nothing but cause the bile to rise to her throat, and slash viciously at her sense of empathy. Smashing her way inelegantly through the door, clutching both cash and weed in hand, she ran as quickly as she could to the dumpster, dog and master emerging from the RV with murder in their eyes.
A few minutes of rewinding, and none of it had happened. She quickly dashed down to the corner of the block where Chloe was waiting for her. Before heading to Frank's, Max had spent a few minutes at this spot, building a buffer for herself, just in case. Thus, with the past ten minutes of time now safely erased, she opened the truck and sat down.
She was trembling, her nerves on fire. The rush of adrenalin had completely chased away whatever buzz she had. But there was something to it, something more than just pure fight-or-flight.
The rush. It was incredibly unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. The power.
Oh...oh God. That was...that felt gooood!
She'd essentially created the perfect crime. She stole from the asshole, and he'd never, ever know. Maybe he'd notice he was light an ounce of weed, but who the hell was he going to blame. Her? Fuck no! Because...because shit! She got away with it! She totally got away with it. She could do so much. So many things. And who the fuck was going to stop her?
It was an almost sexual feeling coursing through her now. Demonically dark , lusciously decadent...
...it scared the absolute fuck out of her.
"Ahh, what's up, Max? Forget something? Change of plans?" Chloe tilted her head curiously.
Max smirked, willing her hands to stop shaking. Held out the money first, and then the weed. Casually, she shrugged and murmured, acting like she'd done nothing more than walk down the street, something she'd pulled off a million times before.
"Like taking candy from a baby."
Chloe gasped, shuddered, her eyes wide with surprise and delight. "Fuck! But...but you just...you only left the truck for two seconds, Max! How did you even?"
"Time travel. I has it." she smirked with feigned cool..
Opening the baggie, Chloe brought it to her nose and sucked in a great lungful of air, shuddering in response.
"Frank said this stuff has a dumb name, like..."
"...Girl Scout Cookieeees!" Chloe moaned out. "Oh fuck! I had this shit only twice. Never forgot it though. Oh Max...eeeee...ma! We are gonna make the world bow before us! I should...maybe...ah." Chloe stared rather hungrily at the baggie, then shook her head. "No! No, definitely...we need to be good and save this for later. Yeah. Special occasion. Ha ha!" Max just stared for a moment, as Chloe leaned in, hugged her tightly, and kissed her on the cheek, before stashing the weed away in the glove compartment.
Another warm, thrilling flush shot through her body, and Max melted, despite herself. Her cheek burned where Chloe kissed it, and she found herself staring at the blunette, a goofy grin on her face. A new kind of heady buzz fogged up her brain; there was something about seeing the way the other girl was impressed, earning hoots and hollers and cheers; she felt helpless before its power.
But...but I like it. I like making Chloe happy. Making her think I'm special.
Max shook her head, groaned slightly, and scrubbed at her face. God! What was happening to her? It was like her mind was short circuiting, with a million different feelings. A storm raged across her brain; she felt nauseated and sick and invulnerable and marvelous, all at the same time.
Suddenly, her quiet little room, almost a mile below the streets of Seattle, seemed nice. A calm, quiet place to center herself. Echos of the nearly overwhelming panic and agoraphobia she felt when she went shopping by herself in Seattle last month raced to the forefront of her mind.
"Ummm...Max? Max? Are you okay?" Chloe asked, with growing concern in her voice.
She quickly nodded, giving what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "F-fine, Chloe. Just low blood sugar, you know? Let's go in and get some grub, I am seriously starved."
"Yeah, sure. Time travel work up an appetite?"
"Something like that."
Bouncing out of the truck, Chloe walked around and grabbed her hand as she emerged from her side. "Yeah! Waffles, and coffee, and shit! For SoooopaMax, the Queen!"
Max found herself still feeling powerless, but not so immediately overwhelmed.
Would be nice though, if I could just stop the world and get off for a few minutes?
A/N: Hey gang! Welcome back! It's Black Swan Saturday, New Years FRIDAY edition! Just couldn't wait to get back in the swing of it, so why not open 2016 the right way? Thanks to you all for being patient, and thanks as always, so very very much to Corentin IV for her skillful edits!
Sorry for taking such a long break, but boy, I really needed it. Sadly, I did not get nearly as much writing as I wanted/needed done BUT I'm quite confident that we should have five to six weeks of uninterrupted updates to take us through Tuesday in the series. I'm guessing we'll get through to about mid-February, and then take off again until March.
And check out the new cover! When SleepySenshi on Tumblr was kind enough to let me use one of her pieces as the cover art for A Power Greater Than My Own, I decided that I wanted to commission her to do fitting cover art for this series. I love it and I hope you do too! The full piece can be found att her Tumblr site.
So, here's to 2016 being a great one! A happy New Years to all my readers and all my wonderful friends here at FFN!