A/N- I hate presentations. So what happens? I get given three bloody presentations to do at school in English, Psychology and Philosophy. So I have been forced to focus on that, rather than this, which is something I, y'know, actually enjoy doing. Either way, I've got it done, and I sincerely hope it's up to my usual standards. Super-duper thanks to Rissa-channn, Avalongirl55, Guest, Iris RainbowWolf, tangle-of-ivy, Julieta A, Katiekatt64 and Zstar1 for reviewing!
Chapter Seven- Cease and Desist
"We gotta run!" I shrieked as we landed on roughly on the catwalk about the stage. "Like now! We have gotta run now!"
"We all established that about thirty seconds ago!" snapped Danny as he, Henley and Merritt began sprinting off in the direction of the exit door that led to a set of iron stairs and platforms that led down to an alley. I had to admire Henley's dexterity to run in those heels.
Jack and I both seized the bags on the catwalk that contained our disguises for the next leg of the evening. We looked at each other, nodded, and ran together, trying to catch up with the others. Unlike Henley, my heels kept slipping down the slats of the catwalk, and every running step threatened to break my ankle.
The door to the alley was in sight as we dropped down from the catwalk to the backstage area, the luminescent EXIT sign literally lighting the way for us. My shoes were rubbing my ankles raw, and I was so grateful that I would be changing into flats in the next couple of minutes. I could physically feel the skin breaking and beginning to bleed.
"Hey! Stop! Freeze!" Shit! Rhodes had managed to untangle himself from the scrum of hypno victims and was now tearing his way towards us. Oh damn. Clearly it was time for us to pick up the pace.
We burst out the door about fifteen seconds after Henley, Danny and Merritt, and the five of us regrouped back into a line. I turned around for a fleeting second and saw that Rhodes had disappeared. He must have turned and headed around the front of the building.
The streets were still completely packed to bursting, as full as they had been when we arrived twelve hours ago. It wasn't easy, trying to push our way past everyone, but somehow we managed to break through the wall of people and get down a different alleyway that was almost deserted.
That French Interpol agent, Elmer or Alma or whatever the hell she was called, was hot on our heels; the benefits of being dressed practically, rather than being decked out in the formalwear the five of us were sporting. She was shouting- in vain, albeit- to get us to freeze, stop, all that generic cop stuff…not that we paid any attention, mind.
Instead, we ran until we found a different ladder that lead up to the roof of another building. We climbed it as swiftly as we could, hoisting ourselves up. Alma was close behind us as we splashed through a couple of puddles that had gathered up on the roof, but we were still a good thirty metres ahead of her.
We jumped over a half-wall that led to a different roof which then lead back down to yet another alleyway. Merritt, Henley and Danny all split down three different ways once we hit the floor, and Jack and I went down a fourth, ducking down behind a dumpster as we watched Alma race after Danny.
"Dear Christ, I can't breathe," I panted, trying to regain the use of my lungs. Jack, meanwhile, was breathing perfectly normally, smirking at me as we peered over the top of the dumpster, making sure the coast was clear. "Don't laugh at me! I seriously think there is a high chance that I'm dying!"
"I'm not laughing," he said sincerely, opening his backpack and pulling out his cop costume. Of course. It had to be a cop costume. Not something that made him look ugly, oh no, it had to be a costume that made him look even more like a male model. I was having trouble focussing as it was.
"Pretty sure you are," I replied, trying to drag myself back to the situation at hand, opening my own bag and pulling out my own disguise: a white dress with red lace detailing, a curly black wig, red ballet pumps, a small white handbag and a cheap phone. "Okay, back's to each other," I ordered, and we turned away from each other. "And…strip." For a few moments, we made no sound from us except for the rustling of fabric as we both removed and put on our clothing.
However, going against my own words, I couldn't help but turn my head slightly, and caught sight of Jack slipping the light blue police shirt on, catching a glimpse of the well-defined muscle of his back. That was all it took for me to start blushing furiously, so I quickly slipped my hair under the wig, arranging it so no little blonde tendrils started sneaking out. What I did notice, though, was that this dress was very, very tight. It felt a little like wearing a gigantic rubber band.
"Are you ready?" Jack asked a few moments later.
"Sure am," I answered, standing up and dusting gravel from my dress. " Have you got the tracker to royally mess with Rhodes?" Jack nodded. "Good. So. We get caught, it's the classic 'deny all charges,' I'm guessing?"
"Yeah, that sounds about right," Jack replied, placing his police hat over his brown hair. "I guess I'll see you in a little while."
"I guess you will. Y'know, providing neither of us do get arrested," I joked. We quickly hugged, then ran off in different directions, the crowds at either end of our alley engulfing us almost instantaneously.
I pushed my way through to the pavement, moving my wig-hair out of my eyes. However, as I reached the pavement, a man suddenly grabbed hold of my hand and whirled me around, dancing with me. Though initially I was quite pissed off, after a few seconds I found myself enjoying it, so I laughed and joined in properly, spinning around, tossing my wig-hair about and shaking my hips.
"Have a great Mardi Gras!" I said warmly to the man once I'd extracted myself from the man, who kissed me on the cheek and wished me the same. I now pressed myself up on the pavement, took the phone out of my bag and pretended to dial. I was supposed to wait here until I got an actual signal that the all was clear, that we could get back to the hotel.
"Oh my God, hey honey!" I twittered into the phone a few moments later, acting like someone had picked up. I put on a thick New Orleans twang, an accent that was essentially the total opposite of my London drawl. "I'm missin' you so much!"
I leaned against the wall, pretending to happily chatter away, occasionally saying things like, "Can you speak up, doll, it's so loud here!"
Unfortunately, it didn't take long for me to see one of Rhodes' lapdogs pushing his way through the crowd, looking around for any of us Horsemen. It was Original Agent Guy, the agent who had busted our door down at the Aria and arrested us there. Oh, fantastic.
"Shit," I muttered under my breath, and I quickly turned on my heel and began making my way up the street, pushing past anyone I came into contact with. I kept the phone call going, though it was getting steadily more absurd as I went.
"No, of course I've been feedin' the llama," I assured nobody, checking over my shoulder. Original Agent Guy was getting closer, about twenty feet away from me, but I hadn't been made yet; he was still craning his neck up like a meerkat, looking for one of us, any of us.
Just keep walking, just keep walking, I told myself, no longer even bothering with the fake phone call anymore. I just wanted to get away from here, and find somewhere, anywhere, out of the public eye.
"Miss Blackwell!" Oh. Fuck. I had been made. "Hunter Blackwell! Stop!" I forced myself to keep calm, to carry on walking like I hadn't heard, like I didn't recognize the name, because it wasn't me. I didn't even pick up my pace. I started up the fake call again, calmer, more assured.
"So honey, when are you back?" I asked. "Next Friday? Oh, she'll be so excited! She's missed her daddy so much!"
"Miss Blackwell! I said stop!" I heard footsteps hurrying up behind me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for impact as I was convinced I was about to get tackled. "Blackwell! Freeze!" A firm hand clamped down on my shoulder, whirling me around. I was now standing no more than fifteen centimetres away from Original Agent Guy, who was staring at me impassively.
"Can I help you, officer?" I asked innocently, keeping the heavy New Orleans accent.
"Drop the act, Blackwell," he ordered me.
I widened my eyes in false confusion. "I'm sorry? Blackwell? I don't know anyone called Blackwell. My name is…is…" Damn, I hadn't thought this far ahead. "Is Queenie DuBois." Hm, so maybe taking my inspiration from A Streetcar Named Desire wasn't the best idea.
"Oh really?" Original Agent Guy looked highly unimpressed. And unconvinced.
"Yeah," I said, taking on a harder tone. "It's a common name here in New Orleans." Probably.
"You know I don't believe you for a second, right?"
"Sir, I really have no idea what you are talkin' about," I insisted. "Now if you don't mind, I have a daughter at home and a babysitter to relieve." I turned sharply to walk away, but Original Agent Guy grabbed hold of my left arm tightly, forcing me to turn back around. "Hey! Take your hands off me!"
Original Agent Guy said nothing, and instead used the hand not gripping my wrist to push up the white sleeve of my dress, revealing my motivational, and very recognizable, tattoo. Oh crap-balls.
"Don't know Hunter Blackwell, huh?" he smirked, and before I could react, he reached up and pulled my wig off, causing my blonde hair to tumble down around my shoulders.
"Er…I…er…" I stuttered, unsure how to continue.
"Hunter Blackwell, I'm arresting you-" Original Agent Guy started to say.
"Happy Mardi Gras!" I practically screamed in his face, ripping my arm out of his grip and sprinting down the street. I heard Original Agent Guy let out a cry of irritation, but I didn't stop and turn around to see if he was following me.
"Get out of the way!" I kept shouting as soon as anyone got in front of me. "Move! Goddamn you people, MOVE IT!" I didn't know how long I was running for, but it didn't seem like too long before I did turn my head back to see where he was, and as a result, I well and truly collided with someone.
That someone clasped their hands around my upper arms and stopped me from falling to the floor. It was a very familiar grasp.
"Jack!" I gasped out, grabbing his shoulders, my knees nearly giving out from relief.
"Hunter! Are you okay?"
"Not really! Rhodes' main bitch found me! I was literally ten seconds away from getting arrested! Jesus, Jack, I was so scared!"
"Rhodes nearly got me too," Jack informed me. "When I planted the tracker. I've been running for the last ten minutes, hiding in the crowd."
"Wilder! Blackwell!" Original Agent Guy's voice suddenly burst over the noises of the crowd.
"Shit!" I cried at the same time Jack exclaimed, "Run!" We linked hands and ran. And ran. And ran. It seemed like we would be running forever.
"We're on the news!" I shouted, bursting out of my room in our hotel suite. "They're talking about our escape! Quick! Someone put on WSVD News!"
"What channel is it?" asked Henley, grabbing the remote and fumbling with it.
"I don't know, like Five or something!" I replied. "Be quick!"
"Found it!" she declared, and she, Danny, Merritt, Jack and I all gathered on the black leather sofa, staring intently at the TV screen.
"…the alphabet agencies, calling into question the efficacy of the FBI's task force," the newsreader was saying. "As well as the man in charge of the investigation, Special Agent Dylan Rhodes, who was publicly ridiculed and even tackled at tonight's performance." Cue cutting to a clip of Rhodes being taken down by the hypno victims. We couldn't help it; all of us laughed quite a lot.
"Talk about a fumble," the newsreader continued. "This is quickly becoming a national story, as The Horsemen have now seemingly pulled off the impossible for the second time in as many days. Two nights ago in Vegas, The Horsemen seemingly robbed a bank in Paris whilst remaining on stage the entire time…"
"Well, I'm sure our friend Dylan really appreciated that story," said Merritt with his usual dry and sarcastic undertone.
"We're a national story," said Danny, looking smug.
"We're getting more famous by the day," added Henley.
"Guys…how are we gonna pull this thing in New York off?" I said numbly. "Shit is getting serious now. This could go very, very wrong."
"I'm really quite surprised I didn't pick up on how much of a worrier you are when we first met," remarked Merritt, and I scowled at him.
"I was never like this till I decided to join up to The Horsemen, thanks very much," I said. "Seriously, us against the FBI…this is starting to feel like West Side Story."
"Not everything in life has to link to a movie," Danny said.
"Tell that to our lives!" I retorted. "Everything that's happened over the last year and a bit has basically been like the plot of a movie!"
"That's a little dramatic, Hunter," said Jack, shuffling the deck of cards in his hands.
"Is it?" I shot back. "Is it really?"
"Yes," everyone insisted snappishly.
"Hunter, not everything has to be so theatrical," Henley told me gently.
"When it's her, it does," muttered Danny.
I raised my eyebrows. "Right. Well okay then." I stood up and shook back my hair, folding my arms. "I just thought you guys might want to see us. Sorry for being excited. I'm going to bed. See you in the morning. Don't forget, we need to be up at five for the flight back."
I sulked back to my room, ignoring the calls behind me. I was so fed up of them all talking to me like I was such a child. Yeah, okay, I was the youngest. I was easily as mature…nope, I couldn't even kid myself on that front.
But I did have feelings. And having Danny totally disregard nearly everything I said was really beginning to grate thinly on my nerves. Normally I could brush his comments off, but tonight…I didn't know if it was because I was tired, because I'd been so close to getting landed in jail, or what.
I just knew that I was mentally in a bad place at the moment. It didn't help that everyone else was being so dismissive of me. Henley was supposed to be my friend, and Jack…well, Jack hadn't really said anything. That was both a comfort and an irritation. Why hadn't he stuck up for me? He usually did. Maybe he felt the same as everyone else, and just didn't know how to tell me.
Well, if that's the case, fuck him, and fuck everyone else, I thought bitterly, moodily changing into a black shorts-and-t-shirt pyjama set and flumped down into my bed, pulling the covers up over my head.
God, I was so scared. I didn't want to go back to New York tomorrow. Everything was going to change. I could feel it, deep in my bones. Someone was going to get hurt, and I had a very strong feeling that it was going to be me. It was going to be physical, and it was going to be emotional, and I didn't know how to stop it from happening.
I just wanted to stay here, in New Orleans. Everything had been so right here. I'd seen my parents and my sister for the first time in three years and I'd helped my sister get her life back on track. I'd come off the phone with her not one hour ago, listening to her cry with happiness at what we had done for her.
I'd finally admitted my feelings for Jack to someone aloud, feelings that had only intensified over the last few hours. I wanted to tell him. God, I wanted to tell him so badly. I wanted him to kiss me, to hold me close and tell me that everything was going to be alright. That we would be alright.
Nothing was alright. Not now. Tomorrow, we had one chance to pull of what really would be our biggest, greatest illusion. One chance, and that was it. If we messed up…someone could die. Innocent people, potentially, if we pulled one wrong move. Death was imminent, in one form or another.
I refused to talk to anyone the next morning. At first, it wasn't all that noticeable, as at five AM, none of us wanted to talk all that much. However, as the morning wore on, everyone else got a bit more chatty and a bit more animated, then you had me; moody little Hunter walking about a metre behind everyone else, mouth shut in a firm line.
I felt sick to my stomach with worry. Everyone else was talking about the plans, going over them like a mantra, checking that everyone was clear with everything. I knew that if I even attempted to open my mouth, all that would come out would be a fountain of vomit.
Packing our stuff, I didn't talk.
Driving to the airport, I didn't talk.
On the flight back to New York, I didn't talk.
Driving to our East Evan Street headquarters, I didn't talk.
It was only when five of us got out of our two cabs, did I make any form of communication with anyone. We simultaneously stood in a line of the pavement and looked up at the building intensely. Jack turned to look at me, and I looked at him.
We didn't say anything, but the looks on our faces made it clear that things were changing very soon.
A/N- I'd like to reply to the review I received from Katiekatt64:
I'm sorry that you don't like Hunter's characterisation. I chose to create her the way I did so she was out of character for the movie. I wanted someone different, someone who was fun to write about, rather than a clone of the rest of the characters. I wanted her to be 'such a white girl,' as you put it. As she points out several times, she's immature for her age (which was 20 in chapters 1/2 and is now 21, not 22), she is childish, and she likes to have fun and use words like 'OMG' and 'lates.' I also fail to see how making a smoothie makes her immature, no offence. I'm not mitigating my choices, because they are perfectly justified as far as I am concerned. I am merely explaining. If you don't like the character, don't read the story.
Now that that's out of the way, I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! I know it's a little shorter than usual, and I will certainly admit that this was definitely more of a filler chapter, but these things cannae be help sometimes. Something HUGE is happening in Chapter Eight! I cannot wait for you guys to read it! Also, who spotted that fourth wall break, ahaha? Anyway, please review! I know this chapter wasn't the best, again, I do apologise for the filter, but like I said, some HUGENESS is going down in the next chapter! Please, please review! Xx Gee xX
[insert usual spiel about actor links and Polyvore page here]