Answer at Dawn

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by hotlineBLING, Jan 28, 2016.

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    • It is the year 2016, and a city in California known as Los Santos is buzzing with activities of all sorts. From surfers casually toking on the beach, to someone finding out their best friend is remarkably alive and, after a bank robbery gone wrong, was forced to fake their death and assume a new identity - for five years. This is what happens to Alec when he is tipped off to his old friend's existence through a rather turbulent series of events.

      The two are obviously ecstatic to see each other again, but for different reasons and in different ways.

      "Alec Reinhardt and Mia Wallace were once forces to be reckoned with, but how tainted will their chemistry be once they're reunited after all this time?"

    • Alec Reinhardt

      Alec Reinhardt, born in a small town near Bavaria, Germany, his parents were the average, middle class family. While they were very warm and caring to Alec -- throughout his elementary years he was a boring, average, 'always-attend-school-never-do-drugs' type, that all changed when he was sent to America to study in highschool and college. He met Mia, and of course, she was his only friend during highschool, more or less.

      His eyes were distinctly foreign, he had bright emerald green eyes, and pale skin, and he seems to be the intellectual type. Cold, calculating, never reckless. It seemed like those were the remnants of his time in highschool and elementary before he met Mia. While he was lean, he wasn't that muscular, in fact -- he wasn't that strong compared to Mia, but he could run faster than her if he tried. His days of running from hall monitors, then running from cops, then running away from cops from rooftops really made him a bit more athletic, but not so much compared to Mia.

      Usually, he thinks out plans and never speaks without thinking about what he's about to say first. He keeps appearances, and always manages to fast talk his way out of situations. He seems to be the type who never really cares about others, only sees what your worth is, but he has some sort of shell around him before he trusts anyone, even though his childhood was mainly boring. Other times, he seems to blend in with a crowd nicely, but his features betray him, his foreign complexion and his eyes.


      Mia Fisher

      Mia Therman Fisher was born in a small town in California. She grew up in a well-off home, where she lived with a family of six. Her mother and father were very cold and distant, but they always demanded the most of their children despite their lack of guidance. They were abusive, emotionally and physically, and this drove Mia out of the house at 16, and led to her somewhat bipolar behaviors. This is was a little before she met (your OC's name, lol).

      She has doe-like eyes and a dewey complexion. Her soft features disguise her chaotic, reckless, and impulsive personality. She has a thin waist but a rounded bottom and chest. She has muscular undertones, and can really pack a punch. However, she prefers not to get her knuckles dirty if she can help it and would much rather shoot a gun. Or at least, she did, before she was forced to give up that life for a more domestic one. She finds herself often feeling almost insane - craving so much that life she lived years ago.

      She seems to be very charming and poetic, and loves nothing more than a classic love story, with a twist of murder and thievery involved. It seems that almost everything she says and does is cryptic and can mean something deeper than she actually intends. This is probably because of her soft tone and delicate, yet tired, eyes.

      Anyone that knows her, however, knows better than to fall for that well-crafted persona.
    #1 hotlineBLING, Jan 28, 2016
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 3, 2016
  1. She combed through her thick and wild hair with a soft brush, with the morning sunlight pouring through the translucent white curtains and shining onto half her face, illuminating her olive skin. She rather enjoyed sitting in front of her mirror as she looked upon her face, admiring her naturally-occurring 1950's aesthetic. Her lips were almost as plump and full as her hair was, which were her favorite physical aspects of herself. Her cheekbones were deep and melted into her face. Her nose, which was upturned and round, yet flat. She loved herself so much, she almost forgot she had a husband for that same purpose - not that he fulfilled it.

    She stared into her own cognac-colored eyes as she pulled massive strands of hair over her shoulders. Her hair didn't fall over her skin like silk as much as it did like fluffy, taut clouds. She lifted her chin and brushed stray hairs from her chest so that her protruding collar bones were as bare as her face. Without another glance into the vanity, she slid out of the velvet seat. She had yet to dress herself, so she made her way to the closet and browsed through her options.

    "Ahh," she sighed freely. "What kindles my interest today?"

    Her closet was huge - filled from top to bottom and left to right with designers clothes from mainly three different clothing lines: Marc Jacobs, Fendi, and Louis Vuitton. She was very picky when it came to her attire, only buying what she felt truly was felicitous for her personality. Most people who stepped into her closet would ask if she'd gotten her wardrobe from her grandmother because of the resemblance of vintage clothing. She didn't believe they were all that vintage, as much as they were housewife material.

    She emerged from the closet sometime later, draped in a sleeveless sky-blue dress that barely spilled above her knees. It didn't do justice for her eyes, which were a light brown, but she loved the way it wrapped around her hips and hugged her figure. She slipped on her translucent cream-colored flats, which were covered in a darker lace pattern.

    "Corbin?" she called out as she strolled down the spiraling stairs. Her voice echoed throughout the empty house. The sunlight poured in from every angle it seemed, and a crystal chandelier above scattered beautiful rays onto the marble tile and white walls. It was so beautiful, but Mia's eyes had always tuned out what she was used to, except for herself.

    "I suppose he's not home," she laughed to herself, shaking her head as she leaned over the counter in the kitchen. She pulled a crystal cup from a cabinet above her before going into the fridge and getting out a large bottle of Romanee-Conti and pouring it into the glass, watching it cascade as it splashed against the rim.

    "Nice," she smiled lightly and took a sip from the glass. It hit her throat like a bittersweet candy. It should've burnt slightly, but she was numb to the alcohol's taste at that point.

    Her eyes glided to a few pill bottles resting in the corner, their labels reading things like "Klonopin" and "Xanax". The atmosphere was depressingly quiet as she sipped her wine and stared at them for a few moments.

    "Fuck," she huffed. She set the glass down on the counter. "Maybe after I see where Corbin ran off to," her voice trailed off almost disappointingly as she turned away from the pills.

    Her shoes made a pit-pat noise on the tile as she moved through the hallway. She felt relieved as her sights fell upon her Louis Vuitton purse, resting by the door where she remembered leaving it last. She had a habit of losing - well, pretty much anything she came into contact with under substances.

    She knelt down gently and reached into her bag. Random objects rustled and clanked as she blindly reached around for her phone. Finally, she pulled it out of her purse and held it below her face. It's screen illuminated her refined features in a blue-ish tint.

    The screen displayed her texts after she almost instinctively swiped through all of her notifications. They were mostly just emails from bank companies, showing purchases she'd made last night and the day before that she didn't recall making.

    She decided rather than texting Corbin, she would call him. This was usual behavior for her, because she inherently suspected Corbin was up to his promiscuous activities. She hit the green button and held it right alongside her ear. She looked beautiful and calm, but inside she felt a fire burning hot within her chest and lungs. She wanted to scream and punch the wall she was knelt beside, but refrained from doing so for the sake of her wall.

    He answered. She immediately shot up to her feet, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Corbin!" she couldn't help but sound eager and relieved.

    "Ah, o-okay," she nodded, her voice trailing off. Her eyes looked longing and distant as she stared at the floor. "Wait, what did you just say?"

    She felt her eyebrows almost furrow, but she wouldn't allow them to do so. God forbid she let her face show a single wrinkle at all.

    "Fuck it." She threw her hand up and almost let it hit her side, but instead she clenched it into a fist so tight that her palms began to hurt. She had to breath, and release enough anger so that she at least sounded remorseful.

    "That's fine, of course. I'm sorry, honey."

    She nodded slightly. She was now pacing back and forth in front of the glass door. "I know, honey. I know, I need to take them. I'm going to right now." Her thoughts flickered to her medication for only a split second.

    "I love you -" her sentence was cut short. A continuous tone rang in her ear, indicating the the call had been dropped. She pulled the phone from her face slowly and let out a long, exhausted sigh before dropping the phone into her purse.

    She felt a little less annoyed now that Corbin's dishonestly assuring tone wasn't whispering in hear, causing her to doubt him.

    She decided it was the perfect time, considering her phone showed her it was still only 8:34 A.M., to go sunbathe by the pool and finished her glass of wine. If she wasn't tipsy by the time Corbin and his gym trainer got home, Mia felt that she would do something much worse to his girl toy than she wanted to while contemplating it soberly.
    #2 hotlineBLING, Jan 29, 2016
    Last edited: Jan 29, 2016
  2. Alec leaned on the drywall of his bedroom, sitting on the bed. The golden sunlight peered through the balcony of his condominium, filling the room with a slightly bright glow. He sat there, watching television, as the Saturday morning passed him by. Living in Vespucci Beach and retiring in his twenties was something of a dream to him, but looking at it now, his life was somewhat boring. Flipping the channels as he jabbed the buttons on the remote, pointing at the sizable flat-screen television on the wall, as he switched the channel to Weazel News. The television's light showed his face in a different light. His pale white skin clearly showed his foreign nature, his messy jet black hair and rimless eyeglasses are some of his most notable features.

    Despite being a former criminal, he seems like a man experiencing his midlife crisis. Sitting at home, alone, and not wearing anything aside from his underwear. He sighed and parted his hair a bit as some strands were dangling over his eyes, as he immediately shot up, realizing that it was around 8:34 in the morning. Alec sauntered over to the bathroom, clearly not in any hurry whatsoever. His contracting job made him quite prominent in the Vinewood Hills, but so far, it only bought him this condo so far. It wasn't the best show of his wealth, in fact he would have been richer if not for a certain 'business associate' not giving him the cut he deserved.

    Discarding his underwear to the laundry basket in the corner, and turning the tap to the shower, he let the perfectly lukewarm water run over his body. It didn't take long for him to take a shower, and soon he stepped out, drying his lean, somewhat thin body. He wasn't one for athletics, but he didn't really care. It's not like he needed to run from the police anymore.

    He stepped onto the living room, and grabbed his generic smartphone, tapping through the unlock screen and viewing the notifications. Apparently, there was another construction job, and it was in the Vinewood Hills. He was ordered to oversee the construction by ten. He went into his closet, sorting through the random articles of clothing.

    He decided to go with a long sleeved red polo, some black slacks and matching black loafers, as changed into his clothes. He wasn't one for fashion, but he merely wore clean clothes that fit. After all, this was work. No need to go fancy when he's going to be on-station.

    Still, he had to eat. Deciding he still had some time before he would arrive at the work area, he opened the fridge. Within was a rather decent amount of frozen microwavable meals, and a few eggs and so and such. He grabbed a pitcher of water, and placed it on the dining table, along with a glass, as he poured himself some water. He grabbed a rather generic brand microwavable chicken fillet and mashed potato meal, and shoved it in the microwave, heating it for three minutes. He waited for it to finish, as he was browsing the internet on his phone.

    Apparently, infidelity is highest here in Los Santos, especially in the Vinewood Hills. Great, he's probably building a house for some rich girl to hide out in after she's done having sex with a married man. Whatever the case, money was money.

    After the meal was done cooking, he grabbed a spoon and fork, and tore open the plastic cling wrap, and started eating. He never really found Mia again, after all this time. He spent most of his cash bribing detectives, and eventually, he amassed some of the saved leftovers of the set-up money from his previous heists to pay off the federal agents from chasing him.

    All he knew was that one day, she disappeared after the cops got her. He escaped and that other guy they hired died. He wasn't proud that he ran away, but he did what he had to do.

    This was just great. He quickly finished up shaving and brushing his teeth, as he grabbed his car keys, wallet and phone, rushing out as he realized he was a bit late for work, contemplating his life. Walking briskly in front of a dark blue Oracle. Clicking the unlock button on his key fob, he opened the door to the driver's seat, put the key in the ignition as he quickly turned it -- the engine roaring to life as he stepped on the accelerator, switching the gearbox to 'D'.

    He hoped he had a bit of time left, or he was going to be in some serious trouble.
  3. "You're a joke, you know that?" Corbin exasperated, throwing his hand in the air. He turned his head slightly to look Mia in the eyes, who was returning his vicious glare with temperate eyes.

    "What are you going to do, Corbin?" Mia said in an obnoxiously cushioned tone. She shrugged her shoulder meticulously and gave him a side glance. "Do you know what I could do to you, and fucking - what's her name? Beatrice - a terrible name, by the way. You can't even handle me in bed, much less when I'm angry."

    Mia scoffed as she said that last sentence, mainly because it was true and the reason as to why she hadn't had pleasurable sex in many, many months. When they did, it was her lying limply while Corbin inserted himself for a short time, until he was finished. Then he would leave Mia as if she were nothing more than a sex toy, lying on the bed. She hated it when he did that, not because she felt used, but because she regretted allowing him the satisfaction. It was those small 'victories' that made Corbin feel dominant, sexy, perhaps even godly, while Mia was more than resentful of being so submissive towards him.

    Corbin could've exploded when Mia called him out. He whipped around quicker than she could blink, and in a moment, his hand was across her polished face so forcefully that it made a noise so loud it echoed throughout the entire house.

    A moment of silence passed between the two. Mia's chin was still turned to the left, her eyes at the ground and her hair hung limp over her face. Corbin realized what he'd just done, and took a few steps back slowly.

    "I'm sorry, but you're crazy, you know that, Mia? You need help!" he accused. His back nearly hit the wall, so his backing came to a halt. "L-look at you, you're fucking drunk and barred out! Your god damn heart is going to stop one day. Now you're accusing me of cheating, too. You are so fucking -"

    Without a single response to his blatant disrespect and fear, Mia forced him against the wall of the narrow hallway with her forearm. He merely grunted, and wanted to yell, but refrained from doing so for the sake of his own masculinity, even in the face of death. It would've been pathetic to Mia, had she been paying enough attention to him. At this point, she was so pent up with annoyance that she felt herself slip away and just wanted to see his brains splattered against the walls. She quickly and anxiously pulled a handgun out from the decorative desk that was besides the two and held it against his head. Her hand was shaking slightly, and her jaw was clenched tight.

    Corbin could barely speak without his voice shaking. "Y-you wouldn't do it. You know I love you-"

    "Shut the hell up, Corbin! For once!" Mia looked deep into his sea-colored eyes. Corbin didn't dare resist upon seeing her like this, so he simply eyed her quietly and prayed that she would find mercy in his poor, poor soul. He'd never seen her this angered.

    "You-" Mia dropped her arm and let her gun hang low, but it was still tight in her grip. She circled for a moment while Corbin stood there, shocked and at a loss for words. Mia pointed the gun at his head for a split second.

    "You ass! You fucking dickhead. She is so fucking dead, Corbin! You really fucked up this time!" she blurted out, not even thinking about the words that were being shouted from her lips. She headed towards the door, her dress swaying as she strided and her hair bouncing on her shoulders.

    Corbin could only watch her grab her bag and slam the door behind her helplessly, throwing his hands on his head and cussing beneath his breath. He would've chased after her, had she not been armed and dangerous - not the had to have a gun to be dangerous, but Corbin didn't see it that way. He immediately pulled out his phone and dialed Beatrice's number.

    She picked up after one ring, which was expected. Corbin's voice was still shaking.

    "Mia's crazy ass is headed towards your house, babe! I'm so sorry, I tried to stop her but she pulled a fucking gun on me," he put his hand against the wall. "I know! I told you, she's fucking crazy," he spoke in a near whisper and shot cautious glance around just to be sure Mia wasn't listening. "Look, you need to leave, though. Get the hell out of there before she finds your place. I don't know how she even know where you live, or if she does, but she has a god damn gun. Who knows what that bipolar bitch will do."

    Corbin was ready to hang up after he did what he felt was 'his part'. He wanted nothing more than to pack his things and leave, not even considering that he had no money or job of his own. He'd done this many times - left just to come back a week later, forgetting that he had none of his own cash for the drugs he felt he needed. He would kiss up to Mia, who took him back every time out of respect for her contract.

    "Will I - what? Will I come get you?" Corbin almost laughed as he repeated Beatrice's pleading words. "No, nope. Sorry, babe you're on your own. I got my own shit to take of. I warned you, sweet cheeks."

    He then hung up the phone and proceeded to throw it down the hall, watching it hit the wall and shatter into pieces.

    . . .

    Mia sped through the curved and narrow roads of Vinewood Hills like a professional Nascar driver, swerving around garbage cans and parked cars as if her Martin One-77's black tires were made of butter. Her windows were rolled up and within the car was a thick cloud of skunk-smelling smoke that leaked from the cherry of the joint she was smoking. She would take a puff, then hold it for as long as she could. She could barely see through the thick smoke, but somehow managed to miraculously not crash into any stray objects. The KB bud she was smoking (which she got from her long-time friend, Eddie Towe), was so strong it would knock any teenage kid off their feet and send them into a panic attack. Mia had a high tolerance, though. She barely felt the heaviness of her lids or the redness of her eyes because she was so engulfed with rage as well - not that you tell by looking at her.

    No, her gorgeous face that seemed to come straight from a 60's novel about romance and murder was rarely ever a representative of her emotions. Her heavy lashes hung low, but just enough to where you could look into her cognac-colored eyes and, if you looked hard enough, could see her true mental state. They were the seductive type, however, and many people found it hard to look passed that. Her winged eyeliner, thick hair and round, yet athletic, figure were enough to send average men over a cliff.

    This didn't phase Beatrice, though, who was looking over her balcony cautiously when Mia's car came to a stop below her house. Beatrice showed no fear, and was ready to face Mia - or at least she thought she was.

    "Oh, what a gorgeous house you have here," Mia assured her, just loud enough for Beatrice to hear. "Too bad it's going to be just about as fucked as you are when I'm done with it!" her tone changed mid-sentence to that of an angry swan, if one could speak.

    Mia proceeded to pull a few, small explosives from the trunk of her car - they were hidden beneath a false bottom, of course - and gracefully stuck them onto the support beams that held up the beautiful house's balcony over the cliff. Beatrice looked on for only a few moments, before her instincts kicked in.

    "Corbin was right about you!" she said, her voice cracking. "You're a psycho!" she yelled as she ran towards the padio door. Conveniently for Mia, Beatrice had locked herself out. The only way out at that point was to scale the mountain-side.

    Mia simply looked on as she continued sticking the explosives on, her harmonious expression not at all matching her current state-of-mind. After she finished placing the last of the bombs, she held within her manicured hands a small device with a little latch on the side.

    Mia was too busy sliding into the front seat of her car and slamming the door shut to notice Beatrice half falling, half stumbling down the hill and to safety. Mia's engine revved up, and once her car was down the hill a few moments later, she deactivated the bombs without a second thought.

    There was a giant crashing noise that could've shaken the Earth itself, and the house came tumbling down the mountain-side. Huge slabs of concrete and glass nearly crushed the tiny, frantic Beatrice below. However, she survived the demolishing of her house, and was there at the end to walk upon the debris of what was once a $1.4 million dollar house. She was covered in minor scrapes and bruises, but would live.

    Mia slid out of her car and walked up the road to where Beatrice was kneeling down upon the debris with her face buried in her palms, weeping.

    "You're so lucky, and so blessed, that I didn't shoot you, Beatrice," Mia bellowed, looking like a fierce lioness. "You're too cute to be shot, though. Have a good day, darling!" she said this as she turned and headed back down the hill, where her $900,000 car awaited her. Mia fixed her hair and situated her breasts beneath her dress before slamming the car door shut and speeding off in the opposite direction.
    #4 hotlineBLING, Jan 29, 2016
    Last edited: Jan 29, 2016
  4. Alec wasn't really in a hurry. He mostly obeyed road rules and such, simply swerving every so often at the slow drivers and whatnot as he turned up the winding mountainous and elevated roads of the Vinewood Hills. His BMW M3 drove past the numerous well designed houses, as he made his way over to the site. The city never really changed, but it was going to light up, and it was soon.

    Suddenly, the ground shook for a moment, and a loud sound -- similar to an explosion almost a few meters away from him, then the sound of something being demolished. It seemed unusual, but it felt like a demolition job to him. But then, he came around a certain part of the Vinewood Hills that's now mysteriously all over the road. It was his cousin Beatrice's house, destroyed, with a woman quickly getting into her vehicle and Beatrice kneeling there, crying.

    He stopped his car near to her, and rolled the window down. "Hey, what the fuck was that? What happened?" He fished his Vom Feuer AP Pistol out from his glovebox, loading it with a fresh magazine as she quickly explained that the woman who was now darting away in her sports car destroyed her house. He didn't need any other explanation. Without even having her explain the 'why', he immediately stepped on the accelerator on his car, he chased after the woman, forgetting about his job.

    Nobody fucks with his family and lives.

    While Beatrice never really did anything for him, he was loyal to those he considered family. After being betrayed by the people he worked with over the years, he only wanted the best for his family. A noble cause, but ultimately, he was blinded by the fact that his family wasn't really proud of having a criminal in their family tree. But nonetheless, he chased down this mystery woman, swerving and rapidly slamming the horn to let the other drivers move out of the way. Despite the fact that she was in a much, much more powerful vehicle, the traffic closed the gap between them, as he swerved through oncoming traffic.

    Eventually, however, he knew the cops were going to crack down on whoever just bombed her house, so he expected the cops to show up any minute now, and they would probably be suspicious of the two cars racing away from the scene. He tried to catch up to her car, and eventually he got close enough. He couldn't recognize the person behind the wheel, but he was hoping that she would stop before they reached the straightaway roads of Los Santos, where she would breeze past.

    While she did have driving skill, he had as well. Serving as the getaway driver for most of his previous heists had it's perks, and it did show by the way he avoided traffic and found a way, while still maintaining a decent speed. He climbed on sidewalks, swerved against trash bins and traffic lights, and went on the oncoming lane.

    Anyone with half a mind would notice that he was gaining on her, and it was only a matter of time until he saw who was behind the wheel.
  5. Mia refrained from excitedly hollering as she drove down the barely busy road. She had a smile bigger on her cheeks than any she'd flashed in a long time. Her white teeth glistened in the sunlight that shone through her car's windows. Her dark, fluffy hair was whipping around her gleaming face wildly as the wind rolled in through the windows. The radio was blaring a mellow, heavy bass song by Drake, and she felt almost euphoric as the pills and weed's effect on her system began to materialize.

    Mia had an idea of where she was headed - most likely Vespucci Beach. She was in no rush after having left the site of the crash, as she knew that no matter how she'd be caught, she had the WPP behind her. It was that same reckless behavior that ended her up right where she was in life at that point. Federal agent Martin Abbott knew this, too, and considering their complicated history, Mia was confident in the fact that she'd get off with a clean slate - for the second time. Mia was, however, overly self-confident and perhaps too much of an optimist to make any sort of accurate judgement calls.

    "That was amazing," she couldn't help but whisper, though her voice was entirely drowned out by the music. "How in the world-"

    Her sentence was cut short by her attention being diverted to her review mirror for a fleeting moment - only to do an immediate double take. She noticed a blue Oracle tailing her closely, and could only assume this person was following her, judging by their hasty and audacious driving. The car model wouldn't have been able to race her successfully, and she knew she could easily evade them - or so she thought. If only she'd known who was behind the wheel, she would've been able to access the fact that they were a much better driver than her, and they always have been.

    "Shit," she uttered. It couldn't have been a coincidence that Martin Abbott also drove a blue-tinted Oracle. She pushed the minus button on her radio so that the music came to a silent hum in the background. Her eyes stayed steady on the road ahead of her.

    She passed by other costly vehicles, parked on the side of the road in front of Postby's Clothing and other high-end stores, or simply driving through the streets as she was, except a little more mildly. There were many, many people walking down and along the sidewalks, entering stores and shops, talking on the phone, jaywalking - just being civilians - but Mia saw them as possible witnesses. She knew if she attempted to flee, it would only make matters worse for her already sticky situation.

    Martin Abbott was not a man who took "no" for an answer.

    Mia simply continued to drive according to the law, taking seemingly random turns here and there. Eventually she turned a street corner and ended up in an unfamiliarity poor neighborhood near Vespucci Beach after a short while of driving. She hadn't seen streets like those for a few years.

    "I guess I was headed here, anyhow," Mia joked to herself, though her voice was depressingly quiet. If Martin Abbott had been able to find and tail her that quickly, who knows what he might be up to?

    Her car came to a stop at the dead end of the neighborhood. She released her foot from the brake after she put the car in park. The car behind her did the same. She knew it without even a second glance at the Oracle.

    She slid her sunglasses over her round nose, and tried her hardest to keep a poker face. She didn't want Martin looking into her eyes for her own reasons.

    She heard his car door slum shut, and then rather hard and fast foot steps approaching her car. Mia kept her head straight. She'd almost completely forgotten about her appearance, otherwise she would've lifted her dress a bit more over her breasts and maybe brushed her hair over a little.

    When she heard his voice, she felt her jaw's need to drop, but refrained.

    She wanted so bad to turn the engine over in her car and speed off so quick the tires wouldn't have been able to keep up. But at the same time, she wanted to weep tears of joy. She felt relieved - so relieved - that she didn't have to keep it up any longer. She wouldn't have to spend anymore sleepless nights wandering when, or if, she would ever see him again. She also felt angry that she let it happen. She felt so many emotions in those first few seconds of hearing his voice, and then she immediately felt another one - curiosity. How many more emotions would there be, if she felt so much more in those first few seconds than she had in those last five years?

    She turned her head almost immediately, and lifted her sunglasses so that they held back her thick hair. Her eyes were shining, but her plump lips were straight. She wanted to smile, but she also felt the need to immediately apologize and explain why it all happened. She was socially keen, though, and she could only imagine what it must've felt like to be in his shoes - to see her again after all that time, and look her in the eyes. He must have seen her as a traitor - evil, perhaps. A sociopath.

    "I-I" she stuttered. Her soft voice almost wanted to crack, and she nearly felt like crying. She held it all back for her appearance, though. She had to keep in mind that that was most important above all else.

    "How are you?" she strained. She was cursing and yelling at herself within. Her thoughts were wild, and she had no clue what to say. She wished to know what Alec wanted to hear, but her system was also still under the influence of the Klonopin. It made her want to hop out of the car and hug him, but had she been sober, she would've wanted to run away.

    However, she couldn't do either of those things.

    She slid out of the car gracefully, almost forgetting to shut the door behind her. She didn't - couldn't - break eye contact with him. His emerald eyes shimmered in the sun's light, and his black hair almost reflected in a blue-ish tint. It seemed as if he hadn't aged a day after all that time, and she almost felt as if she'd time traveled back to that snowy day in Fort Collins five years before. She recalled his red-tinted skin in the white snow, firing his gun wildly. Then running off, and that was the last time she ever expected to see him.

    "You haven't aged a day, Alec," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She'd almost forgotten that just thirty minutes earlier she blew a house of the side of a cliff. None of that was on her mind as she stared into the emerald eyes she never expected to see ever again.

    "I know, fuck the small talk. I didn't mean - ," she stopped, looking up at the sky as she struggled to search for the right thing to say, as if there was a right thing. If there was anyone in the world who Mia didn't want to be disappointed or angry with her, it was one of the only people she ever truly bonded with.

    "I missed you," she blurted the confession almost questionably. She knew Alec was beyond enraged, but she hoped he would look beyond their bad history and recall their more intimate history, as she did. This was highly unlikely, whether it occurred to her or not.
    #6 hotlineBLING, Jan 29, 2016
    Last edited: Jan 29, 2016
  6. While the dark blue Oracle continued to chase down the sports car with skill. Despite the Oracle being barely able to chase down the much faster vehicle, he knew a few shortcuts that connected the city's underbelly, where he cut through alleyways and sometimes disappeared, to appear yet again at her tail, his car almost unusually close to her rear. But for some reason, she slowed down, allowing him to let light on the car's accelerator, engaging the cruise control.

    It was weird how she followed the law, and approached the neighborhood streets of Vespucci Beach's less glamorous area. It was uncomfortable how the other driver suddenly slowed down. Maybe she was setting an ambush? He grabbed his AP Pistol, placing it near the center console, as he trailed her a bit. Who was this person, just moments after driving off like an absolute crazy person, to being completely docile as she reached the city streets. Was she hiding something? It seemed so. Maybe she thought he was a cop, or she caught on, but either way, it was going to make things easier for him in the long run.

    The city's bustling streets meant that he couldn't wave his gun around anywhere. Even worse, there were the Vagos -- infamous for prowling Vespucci and getting involved in things that aren't their business. Maybe it's because of the territory thing, but he honestly couldn't deal with the cops and the Vagos at the same time, so he only decided to use his pistol if he really needed it.

    Then, she finally hit a dead end. She stopped. He did so as well, parking his car next to the curb, as he left the engine running -- in case she decided to start firing. He stepped out of the vehicle, grasping his firearm and folding his one arm behind his back, hiding his pistol.

    He slammed the door to his Oracle, and started walking forward, closing the gap between her and him, and he didn't even interpret her appearance. He simply yelled. "Hey, I don't know who the fuck you're problem is with Beatrice, but you're going to have to deal with me first." He sounded calm, but he still raised his voice, enough to be considered a stern warning.

    She turned her head, to reveal her face to him. It was her. Mia. All those years, all that time, and he even considered that she might be dead now after smoking herself to death. It seems like he was unlucky, because here she was, a few minutes after blowing up his cousin's house. What was going through his head at that time was all that hatred, that repressed, bottled up feeling of anger and resentment, as he immediately raised his pistol at her for a short moment, but he stopped himself. He only revealed his pistol, but it was resting at his side as thoughts were coming back to him, when he was using the same automatic pistol to gun down the cops that were bearing down on their vehicle. When he saved her from being shot by a security guard with a massive bravado, and where she led them to that 'set up', where he had to escape. He had to run down that snowy field for his life, leaving behind everything he sacrificed just to get away.

    The scene seemed almost poetic. Standing a few inches from his galaxy blue sedan, barely clutching his pistol, as his pale face seemed almost paler. The woman in front of him almost stuck in front, like a deer in headlights. It wasn't fear in her eyes, either. It was somewhat 'joy', and her face also spelt 'guilt', 'confusion', and much more. She didn't want to see him yet. Neither did he, honestly. He just didn't prepare for this day, where he would finally find her, then what? Would he find closure if he killed her?

    He didn't raise his gun as he saw that she didn't even do the same. It was only a split second, but for him it felt like years. He sighed as she started talking to him, much to his dismay. He didn't want to hear that voice again. He didn't want to, but yet he still stared back at her, staring at her eyes, his own emerald green eyes gazing back.

    "You missed me, huh?" He managed to let out a few words, but he was still in shock. The man with the messy hair and the slightly rugged face, hiding the scars that he held deep inside during that final heist. She did this. All of this. But it wasn't so bad, but she still betrayed him, in his own mind. What she did, he couldn't just forgive overnight. Even after years have passed, he still has flashbacks of those times, where he felt alive. She took away that feeling.

    "I don't want to miss you." He simply spat out, venom dripping from his voice, as he looked at her with smoldering hatred -- but he didn't really want to hate her.
    #7 Sabatron, Jan 30, 2016
    Last edited: Jan 30, 2016
  7. "I did," she blurted.

    She felt the lump in her throat grow so large, she could hardly swallow it. It was more than difficult to confront this man again - Alec Reinhardt. The man she so coldly betrayed all those years ago. It was hard enough to look him in the eyes, now that she was aware she was doing it.

    "I know," she started. She made sure to meet his eyes with her's. Even her lids were lifted so she didn't look tired and seductive, but rather aware and honest. She seemed so together, like she had all the answers, but her voice was shaking almost noticeably. "I know how it must seem to you. I swear, I didn't want to to do it, but an opportunity presented itself to me, so I took it. And I'll admit, I fucked up. I shouldn't have. I've had years to reflect on what happened that night. You think I don't regret leaving you?"

    Mia sighed, shaking her head as she struggled to justify her treacherous actions so long ago. Her lips were dewey and dribbling with seduction as she spoke, but her eyes were on the verge of tears. She cleared her throat, however, and forced the lump down her throat. She wiped the corner of her eyes with her index finger as not to smear her mascara. She never really got in her feelings like that, but she felt that her and Alec seeing each other again was the exception.

    She looked around as Alec spoke, sort of suspicious of her surroundings as the sun began to set on the horizon. The sky was beginning to fade into the dark, blue sky. She now regretted pulling over in this neighborhood, but she figured that it was the perfect place to speak to Martin - who she suspected was the one who was following her moments earlier.

    "I know nothing I can do can redeem what happened in Fort Collins," she said, fixing her thick hair and situating her dress before touching Alec's shoulder. "Please, let's go get drinks, or something. You look," she paused, her searching eyes looking over his face. "Just stressed. I want to make it up to you. Let's catch up? We can talk about what happened, and I'll explain everything. It's all... very complicated."

    She hadn't known whether or not she would tell Alec about the Witness Protection Program and federal agent Martin Abbott. They were sure to meet in the near future, though. Mia would have to tell him that Alec's discovered she's alive.
  8. He actually managed to hold himself back from shooting her. As much as how 'good' it would feel in the short term, he wouldn't get any closure from doing so. His morals just didn't allow it. Coming from a former bank robber that massacred police officers because they were in his way, he wasn't one to talk about morals. She was still the same -- quite pretty, her plump lips enhanced with the most expensive beauty products, maybe -- and she used the money she stole from him. So was her clothes, in which his own choice of outfit paled in comparison to. Well, of course, her eyes were wide open now, a symbol of her actually meaning what she said. Maybe he'll listen to her, for now. Blinding anger was one of his less desirable traits.

    "Yeah. You got married, and you didn't give a shit about me. Yeah, some... regret you held." He trembled a bit as he said those words. He was always depressed, and sometimes it wasn't about the money, too. He actually cared about her, and to see his trust replaced with greed, it wasn't easy to get over that. But it's been years since then. If she came back a day later, he'd probably get angry. But for now, he was at least glad that she was alive, somewhat. Even though he didn't want to admit it to her.

    "You're lucky I didn't just shoot you for wrecking my cousin's house. I know my cousin for constantly having her hole filled, so... your husband being an unfaithful guy or something?" He only said what he thought about from the top of his head. His emerald green eyes still fixated on her brown, doe-like eyes. He had to admit, she's aged rather well. Hell, this entire situation was just a lucky, or rather, an unlucky occurrence. He wasn't unreasonable, but he needed some answers. Answers that could justify what she did.

    He scratched his head. The sun was setting, and while this made the surroundings seem like an excellent place for a reunion or some soap drama scene, it meant that he literally just skipped work, for the umpteenth time. "Well, I'm middle class, I do work as a foreman, and I'm in a dead end job. I just skipped work just to chase some girl I thought was dead. Yes, I'm very stressed." He sighed deeply, as he mustered up the courage to actually accept her drinking invitation. "Yeah, I'll take you up on that offer. Just pay for me, alright? And not some noisy nightclub..." He ran a hand through his hair, and looked around. It was close-by to his house, and there were a number of beach-side bars nearby.

    He wasn't sure what he felt. He thought he finally got over it, but -- she's here. That's like getting over a drug addiction, then finding an entire month's supply in your car's glove box. He wasn't sure how to feel about this, but maybe after a few shots he'll come to his senses.
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