Blacklight S2 (R)

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

As a concerned Angelica bustled about the room, fussing over Elijah and his injuries, chastising him with each and every complaint he made, Emma took the opportunity to talk to Rylee alone. She nudged the young man out into the hallway, and closed the door behind them; Angelica didn't need to hear any more about what was going on back in D-79, she'd already heard and seen enough.

Emma leant up against the oak banister, overlooking the wide entrance hall below, the front door partially open to anyone who wanted to enter. To think that a place as safe and secure as this one would hold a member of the Triad; worse, that he was the one in charge of it. It raised all sorts of questions.

Questions that would probably never be answered now.

Rylee draped his arms over the banister, his intent sapphire gaze locked ahead. “The others wouldn't come.” His murmur was so low, that for a moment she wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly.
“And you're not happy about that?” Disappointment leaked from every inch of him; from the creases in his face, to the way his fingers knotted together.

He shot her an incredulous look, “Aren't you? Ethan said himself he thought you were both in trouble, but they wouldn't do anything about it! So, I came myself. I thought we were supposed to be a team...”

Emma looked at him thoughtfully. There was a strange, foreign emotion beginning to grow within her chest when she stared at him now, very different from the usual impatience and irritation. At some point during the last month, Rylee had grown up.
And for that, Emma felt...proud.

“We are a team, Ry,” She told him softly. “We all have someone to look out for us - Elijah and I are lucky that we have you. You're even luckier... Since you have the two of us. God help anyone who decides to mess with that.”
Rylee breathed out a laugh, the tension dispensing along with it. “That's true.”

Elijah and Rylee weren't blood related, there were no physical likeness to the other, but from time to time, Emma noticed resemblances in their personalities. She'd glimpsed the brave interior within Rylee, and found a softness inside Elijah even he didn't know he had.

It was in that second, that Emma found herself in one of those instances - Rylee’s smile was warm, but there was a hardness in his eyes, a restraint of sorts, blocking the full force of the happiness he really wanted to express.

He sighed, a deep puff of breath escaping his lungs, before he asked, “What did that asshole do to you down there?”
Emma met his steady gaze. “He wanted answers and we wouldn't give him any. But we did find out he was a member of the Triad and that D-79 isn't the only place where you can find one.” What purpose would there be in telling him all the unnecessary details of what went on in that house? She didn't want to see the look of pity in Rylee's eyes, or worse, for him to see the fear in her own when she told him.

“Triad?” He asked, brows raised.

She frowned - only to remember a second later that no-one other than Elijah and herself knew of the insane, Hoffman-driven cult's name. They hadn't seen or properly spoken to anyone since before the train fiasco, and thanks to O'Hare, that's when they'd found out for themselves the motives and purpose (somewhat) of the deadly group. The man now lying dead in his basement filled in the rest.

Emma ran her fingers through her tangled hair, the events if the morning quickly catching up on her. “O'Hare called it the Dark Triad...”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

It had been confirmed – Elijah’s rib was fractured. Of course he hadn’t expected his day to get much better after being tortured with his girlfriend, but this was definitely a setback. His pain tolerance was high, but having an odd limp everywhere he walked had proven to be nothing short of a nuisance as they neared the hidden portal of the Safe Haven, which happened to be disguised as an outhouse.

Rylee and Emma was by his side, the plumper boy being the first to thrust open the wooden door as he stood by the entrance. “Ready?” he questioned, tone uncertain. “The rest of the group is hidden out at a temporary base for now. We’re changing locations.”

Elijah wasn’t particularly shocked; after all, with the government catching on to their plans and the threat of Hoffman knowing where they lived, remaining in a city of ashes was borderline suicidal. The only question that plagued his thoughts was the major ‘What now?’ They knew of the Dark Triad, which was still a great dent of progress in their efforts, but it almost meant nothing when they had no idea as to where their headquarters was located or how large their organization was.

The Dark Triad was meant to be a secret society for a reason – it was only by the chance occurrence did you run into one, and after having their last true link murdered, they were back to researching again until they found substantial information.

Both Elijah and Emma nodded their heads simultaneously before they were thrusting their bodies into the vortex, the Safe Haven swirling in a blend of colors around them.

___

“You two are safe!” Beth shouted in glee, arms wrapping around them individually as her brown eyes glimmered with excitement.

By temporary base, Elijah had instantly thought of a small, make-shift house in which they could hide out before relocating, but instead, their base only comprised of raggedy tents, some blankets, and a few bottles of water and other dry foods. Christ, it was like the 8th grade annual camping trip all over again. Elijah felt himself subconsciously stiffen.

The woman’s hair was slung up in a messy bun, her tank top hanging off of her slender form, bones protruding softly from the flesh. It was obvious how much this operation was taking from them, but yet, they were too far gone to turn back now. Occasionally Elijah would wonder how life was in the agency, how Landry was, but then the thoughts escaped his mind just as quickly, knowing such ideas were only for the mentally weak.

“Barely,” Emma murmured, her hair a vivacious mess of curls snaking down her shoulders. In spite of Angelica’s healing abilities, he was positive they both looked like they had gone through hell and back, causing the wide-eyed stares of others.

“Still alive,” Logan butted in, appearing from behind the brunette with several, thick bags of supplies. He assumed they were computer parts and other bits and pieces of technology they’d need to move forward. “We’re moving west come morning – the Underground is a warzone right now. Mostly everyone’s dead; the survivor’s have been placed in camps and brainwashed. It’s a miracle we made it out alive.”

“Although they came close,” Ryan’s soft voice sounded, trailing closely behind Logan. “Dozens of guards raided our headquarters during the night; thankfully we were able to fight them off before fleeing thirty miles.”

“And they won’t find us out here?” Elijah questioned, brows raising.

“We created a labyrinth – it would be nearly impossible,” Beth replied. “We just need to rejuvenate for a few hours to be more effective at dusk.”

Emma nodded, instinctively tracing a finger along Elijah’s forearm before stepping towards a tent. “My head is pounding. I’m turning in.”

He stopped her momentarily before leaning in, lips brushing against her lobe lightly before murmuring, “I’ll be in a moment.”

For the time being, he had a shitload to explain, and with barely any time to cover it all.

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

This wasn't exactly what Emma had in mind when she'd thought about returning to base - a crappy, make-shift tent, deep within a woodland. It hardly oozed with security. How was she supposed to sleep like this? Emma groaned at the very thought of it. She was exhausted and aching from head to toe, and jesus, still wearing the goddamn sundress she'd worn the night before.
Could things get any worse?

There was no missing Logan's teasing comment before she ducked into the tent, either.
“Nice dress, Emma. You actually look like a girl!”
“Shit, really? And here I was, trying to go for the flying monkey look.” She retorted dryly, allowing the flap to slap shut behind her.

Fortunately for Emma, she'd never had to endure a camping trip before, not with school, or family, or her nonexistent friends; only now did she realise how lucky she really was. It was small and cramped, with an array of tousled blankets thrown across the floor, the air was hot and humid in comparison to the fresh air outside and there was a lingering smell that Emma couldn't quite put her finger on - like a mixture of plastic and feet.

She grimaced and turned, laying in a way that put her head close to the entrance and the light breeze blowing in through the open flap. If she was going to get any sleep tonight, this was the only way she was going to get it.

The sound of distant chatter was strangely relaxing, lulling her into a light slumber... Until the entrance burst open, forcing her to release the weak grasp she had on sleep. Emma's eyes snapped open just in time to watch Beth climb into the space beside her, her face the holder of a genuinely happy smile.

“Sorry to disturb,” She began, situating herself on her stomach, her head dropping in to her palm. “But I couldn't help myself. I'm happy you're back, Em.”
“Is that what the smile is for?”
“Well, it definitely isn't for what Elijah just told us...Triad? Fuck, Em, this really is some serious shit, isn't it?”
Emma rested her head on to her arm. “And you're only just realising this? Beth, D-79 is on the verge of destruction, what's left of its people are now mindless zombies...”
Beth rolled her eyes dramatically. “I know that already, but I didn't guess that Hoffman was the leader of an actual cult, with more followers than we ever could have imagined...” The smile she'd held seconds before vanished, a solemn mask now capturing her expression. “You hear of these kinds of things happening in the past, you read it in books and watch it in movies, but this is so much more. So many people have died, the president is still missing, the city we all called home is as good as gone and there are truly evil people out there, some of them in hiding, waiting to strike...”

The weight of their dire situation had sunk in long ago, before Henry Hoffman had even aimed his sights on the innocent orphans; yet, Emma found herself reacting to Beth's bleak speech.
They knew of Hoffman and his following in D-79, but with the appearance of a Triad member in Safe Haven, there were high possibilities that they were spread out all over America.
Hoffman was one thing, but taking on the rest of them was...impossible. Nine individuals could only do so much to help.

As if she'd heard Emma's thoughts aloud, Beth sighed and said, “We may have to think of recruiting.”
“We need to find our feet first, find some kind of place to call home... Or at least to call 'base'. The nine of us are going to have a hard time hiding as it is.”
“True,” Beth agreed thoughtfully. “And by your tone, I'm guessing that you're not a fan of the whole camping thing...” A ghost of a smile crept across her lips when Emma's expression twisted, her react evident.
“I'd rather sleep outside.”
“I hate to tell you that it's supposed to rain later, so that option is out.”
“And you know this, how?”
She shrugged, “We brought a lot of our equipment with us, one of them Rylee's computer, that just happens to tell us upcoming weather forecasts.”
“Equipment, hmm?” Emma pondered. “Don't suppose you managed to bring any of my clothes, did you?”

A slow grin spread out across her face, a flicker of hope alighting within Emma with it. “You have, haven't you?”
“Maaaaaybe. Why? Don't you want to run around, kicking Triad ass in a sundress? You look sweet, Em!”
“Do I look like the kind of girl that wants to be sweet?”
Beth blew out a light laugh. “Yes! Cute little Emma in a pretty flower dress. Oh! Maybe we could distract them with you! Oh look, it's an innocent young woman, walking her poodle - ”
“ - poodle?”
“ - when suddenly, BAM, she pulls a gun out from beneath her petticoats!” Beth raised up into her knees as she spoke, holding her hand to her chest, fingers imitating a gun. “The poodle could be a bomb!”

Emma stared at her blankly, trying not to envision the ridiculous image Beth was forcing onto her. “Do you have clothes for me, or not?”
Beth dropped her arms to her side. “Why are you wearing that anyway?”
“Because. Now, do you - “
“I'm not going to answer you until you tell me what I want to know.”

Hazel eyes narrowed on the smiling woman, and when Emma never replied, Beth dropped once more onto her stomach, her haze bright with excitement and knowledge.
“Was it for Elijah?” She asked.
“And what would make you think that?”
“Because you look nice, Em, and you only ever make an effort for one person...” Thin, dark brows wiggled suggestively. “So, despite being tortured for information, you and Eli managed to make time for romance. If that's not love, I don't know what is!”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

It had felt like the difficulty setting on his life had been cranked all the way up and there was no reverting now. Hoffman had a goal, and that was to turn the population into his slaves through draining them of everything they’ve ever known. It was an insurmountable goal for such a small group of people, yet, for some reason, they continued with their plans, as if it were somewhat possible. Elijah knew they’d have to discuss recruiting after they got away from D-79 and find some way to scavenge for usable people before Hoffman turned them.

Elijah had started towards the tent, his moving labored, before a grip on his wrist pulled him away towards the trees, her brown eyes instantly connecting with his.

“You’re back,” she mused, hair slicked back in a wild ponytail as her clothing hung haphazardly from her slender frame. “That’s reassuring.”
Elijah shrugged, “I haven’t died yet.” If he were to really look back on his life, he had been in near death situations more times than he could count. From nearly getting bombed in vehicles during his military days to wrestling with a serial killer and escaping a twisted Triad member that intended to splatter their insides across his basement, he didn’t necessarily have the easiest life.

“Everything’s pretty much been a clusterfuck while you two were gone,” she continued, and Elijah noticed the scars and bruises that splayed across her once clear skin. “Our headquarters was ambushed; thankfully everyone got out alive. But that was a warning that Hoffman knows of us, and where we live, and if I had it my way, we’d be hundreds of miles away from this place instead of wasting time camping out.”

Elijah couldn’t say he disagreed – in spite of the raw exhaustion that plagued his bones, waking up to guards surrounding them in the hundreds were no doubt worse. Besides, with new technology and different shifts, they could have set up an RV on the ultimate cruise mode. But for the first time, he wasn’t going to argue, because quite frankly, he’d let the chips fall where they may until morning time. If they got out alive, they definitely had a shit load to think about.

“We’ll wait it out regardless,” he responded with a shrug. “We only have a few more hours until dusk anyways.”
Sol looked mildly frustrated, but nodded. “I’ll stay up for as long as I can and patrol. Ryan agreed to volunteer after me.”

“Okay,” Elijah replied, about to turn around when she stopped him once again. His lips turned downwards in a frown, the fatigue developing to a point of disorientation. He just yearned to get away from the craziness of his world for a few more hours, and the only way to achieve that was with one particular woman in his arms. “What?”
“I also found something that I think you may find some interest in,” Sol responded before reaching into her back pocket and extending it towards him.

Elijah’s eyes widened at the small photograph in between her thumb and pointer, the paper fringed around the corners. At first, it astounded him that such a picture existed when holograms had overrode the use for it, but then he understood as soon as he gazed upon it, skin paling several shades.

“Where’d you get this?” he hissed, snatching it from her grasp.

“To be continued,” she whispered, “in the morning.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

”Yes, I have some clothes for you, so stop looking at me like you want to kill me,” Beth chastised. “I’m not quite sure what I grabbed though, so don’t go throwing that dress away too soon.”

Emma groaned low beneath her breath and dropped her face into her arm. She was too tired and too cranky to deal with Beth, or anyone, right now.
“I’m serious about that poodle and petticoats idea; just you wait until I tell the guys! I bet they’ll love it as much as I do.”
“We. Are. Not. Doing. It.”
“Why not? It’s brilliant.”
“It’s ridiculous.”

Beth curled her finger around a stray lock of hair dangling down from her forehead, her attention fixated onto the movement as she spoke. “You’re right, it is ridiculous. Why make you the distraction, when it could be me?” Large dark eyes darted toward Emma. “I’m ten times sexier than you are, anyway.”
She had to give it to her; Beth was a determined little thing. She’d get what she wanted, one way or another.
“That’s not going to work,” Emma murmured, peeking up through her hair. “The days of women using their bodies as a power over men is long over.” Even as she said the words, she didn’t believe them. Who was she kidding? Women did it every day, all over the world.
Emma had even done it once or twice to Elijah.

Beth didn’t believe her either.
She folded her arms, perching herself upright onto her forearms in the process. “Don’t give me that crap. You’re just jealous because I’m thinner than you are – every single Triad member that lays eyes on me is gunna look and think ’Oh, man, I want a piece of that!’”
“Why would I want to be as skinny as you are? I’m surprised dogs don’t chew on your arms and legs as you pass them, thinking it’s a walking, talking bone.”
Dropping her head back, Beth laughed. “Speaking of a bone…”

Before either of the women could speak again, the entrance of the tent was pulled back, Elijah’s bruised and exhausted face appearing in its place. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Beth immediately got up onto her knees and hustled out of the tent. “Girl stuff,” She answered, taking the slip from Elijah’s hand. “You wouldn’t get it.”
He looked down at Emma, who had finally moved to roll onto her side. “Mhmm. Anything important?”
“No,” She answered quickly, shifting a fiery glare onto the brunette. “And Beth was just leaving, weren’t you?”

There was a five second silent stand off between the two women, one glaring hard at the other, until Beth sighed in defeat and kicked at the grassy ground with her boot. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going. Get as much sleep as you can, alright? We’re heading out early and we don’t want you to slow us down.”
Elijah frowned at her. “Thanks so much for your concern, but if anyone’s going to be doing the slowing down, it’s you. Try to keep up with us.”
“You’re the walking wounded.”
“You’ll be the walking wounded if you don’t – “
“Don’t worry, Beth,” Emma interjected. “We’ll be ready.”

With that, Beth turned on her heels and retreated toward the dwindling fire, Rylee more than happy for her company as she sat at his side.

Elijah winced as he ducked into the tent, his arm braced across his aching ribs. The moment he was laying comfortably next to her, Emma melded into her usual nook, hand coming to rest on his own as his arm wrapped around her waist.
She looked up at him, her chin rubbing affectionately at his chest. “How are you feeling?”
“Like hell.”
“Get some sleep, big guy, while you can. Who knows when we’ll get the chance again.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Elijah felt a warm circle of heat on his stomach as the artificial sun filtered through the open tent, Emma peeking her head through the olive tarp. All of his limbs felt like they were being tugged down by obnoxious weights, body frozen in place as he let out a small groan. Elijah hadn’t experienced the feeling of proper rest in what felt like weeks and sometimes the athletic and mental feats he had been able to overcome astounded him.

“We’re about to head out,” Emma murmured softly into the tiny space, warm, hazel eyes connecting with his.
He relished in the soft blankets Beth had thrown out for them for several more seconds until he was gradually hoisting his body into a ninety degree angle, the sharp pain in his stomach causing him to wince involuntarily. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Nothing dire has happened since last night, so I figured you deserved the sleep.” Then, curving the corners of her lips upwards in a lazy smile, she added, “Besides, you look cute while unconscious. Drool and all.”

Elijah instinctively wiped at his face as she beamed at him playfully before ambling over to him and carefully draping an arm around his neck. “How bad are your ribs?”
“Painful as hell,” he breathed, accepting her attempt at trying to help him up, even though he was much taller, and in turn, much heavier. “But it’s the least of our problems, for now.” He’d double check with Lucas on his medical status, but he doubted it’d be more than a fracture. Other than the bone being incredibly uncomfortable, it wouldn’t act as a huge hindrance. And if they were lucky, he’d have plenty of time to heal before they were forced to do something else life threatening.

As Emma helped him to his feet, he instinctively stuck his hand into the back pocket of his trousers to feel the worn paper of the photograph between his fingers, only to send a shock up and down his spine. Sol had the answers he yearned for, and he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to discuss it with her. The notion that she had found something so…unexpected made him tense. And being tense would hardly help the group moving forward. He had to figure out what it meant – for himself.

“Of course the lovebirds are taking a century and a half,” a cool voice muttered, the pair’s gaze simultaneously locking in on a familiar head of light strawberry blonde hair. Ethan hoisted a large machine gun on his shoulder, loose camouflage pants tugged into the top of his combat boots. He looked like a rich kid dressing up for a costume party. “Can we get the hell out of here before we’re ambushed again? That’d be great.”

Elijah rolled his eyes before tugging on a cream-colored t-shirt next to the sleeping bag. “What? Afraid you can’t take em’ on, GI Joe?” He then pushed past him into the clearing with Emma on his heels, the rest of the group circled around a large, hovering RV.

“The fastest transportation in the East!” Sol exclaimed with a bright grin, before slapping its metal side. “It should take us to the other side of the country in about a day or so.”

Emma furrowed her eyebrows, trailing up to the vehicle. “I thought we were just moving up North?”

“Unless you’re looking for suicide,” Ryan butted in, hands casually shoved in his pockets, “we’ll need to move as far away as possible. Hoffman senses us, and we’ll be as good as dead if we stay around these parts. He’s probably plotting for our arrival.”
Beth nodded in agreement. “So far you two have received the worst treatment out of all of us, so I’m sure you wouldn’t mind the last minute change in plans.”

Elijah shrugged. He needed all the time in the world to dull the pain of his injuries and a nice, semi-long trip would at least help his efforts. “I’m down.”

Emma let out a tiny sigh, but tilted her jaw slightly in approval. “Fine.”

“And we’ll have time to discuss plans on the way there. Rylee thinks he may have found something of interest.”

The pudgy boy stared at the brunette without really staring at her, clouds shrouding his eyes before he was straightening up immediately, a cough escaping his throat. Elijah could only scrunch his nose in confusion. “Oh, uh, right! I’ve kinda devised a plan, a-and it might be crazy, but what do we have to lose, right?”

Lucas and Logan returned with small, compact cubes which held their campsite before sliding open the doors to the RV and stepping inside.

“Tell us on the way,” Emma declared before following after the twins.

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma watched the passing views with a mild interest, only half listening to the conversation going on in the RV around her. Ethan was keeping them away from the highways, sticking to winding back roads; it was taking them nearly twice as long, but it was safer, away from spying camera’s and unwanted attention.

Ethan was at the wheel, Sol sat in the passenger seat, pressing at the many buttons littered across the dash board. Logan was positioned against the back of Sol’s seat, his nose deep within a book, while Lucas dismantled his gun from the chair beside his twin. Beth and Rylee were sat together on one side of the plush coach, leaving enough space for Elijah to lie out, his head resting against Emma’s lap. Ryan stepped out from the small bathroom, a disgruntled look passed across his face.

“So,” Emma began, turning away from the window. “What’s this plan of yours, Rylee? I’m dying of excitement here.”
He shifted in his seat, turning his body to face her. “Right, um, well… during the raid of the base, bits of our equipment was stolen – “
A frown marred her brows. “Anything important?”
“No,” Logan answered, nose still pressed to the pages of his book. “Everything of importance was stored away into Cubes hours before they hit. They mostly took weapons, most of which are replaceable.”
Rylee nodded. “What he said.”

Elijah kicked at his cousin, murmuring a command to continue. For the first time since Emma’s birthday, he looked relaxed, his eyes heavy as she gently ran her fingers through his hair; that was growing longer with each passing week.

“Okay, okay, I’m getting to it! One of the guns that were taken had a built in tracker, and well… we tracked them.”
“And?”
“And,” Beth answered with a proud smile. “We think we may have found their base.”

Emma shook her head. “Wait, I thought their base was in D-79?”
“We thought it was too, but they must have abandoned it and moved on.” Reaching under the seat, Rylee pulled out his trusty laptop, opening it to reveal an active map. He tapped a finger at the screen, where a small blinking red light resided. “They brought the stuff there, to D-25.”
“They’re that far into the South?”

Why, of all places, would Hoffman move his base away from the North? He’d practically concurred it, the president no where in sight, the authorities under his and the Triad’s thumb – whereas the South still had their president, his reign undisturbed for over fifteen years.
Emma felt her stomach do an uncomfortable twist. “He’s going after the South now, isn’t he?”
Beth nodded solemnly. “That’s what we think. What’s weird, however, is where the base is…” She nodded to Rylee, who clicked at the red dot, instantly zooming in on its location.

Emma’s eyes narrowed as she read the sign on the building, it’s bright neon pink lettering flashing on and off. “Is that…is that a strip club?”
Rylee snapped the laptop shut. “Sure is! And signals are coming strongly from beneath the building. Logan did research when we were in Safe Haven, and it turns out the building has recently been taken over by new management – fifty bucks, it’s Hoffman.”
“What was strange was it was taken over nearly three months ago. He’d only been mayor of D-79 just over a month then.”
“So he planned it all along,” Elijah mused aloud.
“Looks that way, the scheming bastard.”

Rylee stored his laptop away once more, leaving Beth free to lean across his back and shoot Emma a wicked grin. “We need to get into that club, Em.”
She stared at the woman blankly. “Okay… and how do you suggest we do that?”

It was Sol’s turn to grin now. She spun around in the passenger seat, her thin brows wiggling as she regarded the confused redhead. “Tell me, Emma, do you know how to dance?”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

“So, you’re basically saying that you want them pretend to be glorified hookers?” Elijah questioned, in between sputters of laughter. After over a year of working beside the red head, he knew well enough she’d never gyrate for anyone. Hell, she had hardly gyrated for him, except for that one time a few weeks back when Elijah had put his excellent persuasive skills to use. Needless to say, it was pretty much a shot in the dark.

“Absolutely not,” Emma responded firmly and resolutely, a second hardly transpiring before she had written off her decision as final.

Rylee seemed to pout though, expression manifesting into that of a depressed ten year old boy. “But this is our next major step! The Triad is always moving; who knows when we’ll get another chance?” It was apparent the kid made sense, in spite of his wild proposition. He was certain most men would have cringed at the thought of their girlfriend twirling around half naked in front of other men, but Elijah felt indifferent. For one, it was for the greater good of the nation, and two, he didn’t have a shred of insecurity in regards to his appearance and their relationship (as of a few nights ago) that would ever leave him to doubt her loyalty. Besides, Emma was Emma, and if anything, he’d enjoy it more than her.

“There has to be another way to get into the strip club, that doesn’t involve being a stripper. Besides, wouldn’t they be able to tell if a new dancer simply showed up out of the blue?” Her back flattened against the booth, Elijah adjusting his position so he was propped upright. He felt the sharpness in his ribs and winced slightly. Lucas had agreed to examine it once he had finished his daily research. Even though he hardly said anything to anyone, his genuineness was apparent and efficiency top of the notch.

“There is no way, Emma,” Beth sighed, raking her fingers through tendrils of chestnut hair. “And Rylee has taken care of it.” Pausing, she reached into a duffel pushed against the large, glass windows that lined the booth, removing a small, darkened cube as she tossed it lightly on the table. In a few moments, a blue screen materialized in the air, a simple, profile picture of Emma spilling out before them with words to the right of it.

“H-How’d you?” Her voice stammered as she took in the sight of a sandy blonde-haired version of herself, plush red lips curled back in a smile as long, voluptuous eyelashes framed her hazel eyes. Elijah even felt himself sucking in a sharp intake of air, eyebrows raising in amusement.

“Since when was my girlfriend a blonde?” he mused, just to warrant himself a solid kick in the ankle from the red head.
“I think it suits her, no?” Rylee grinned brightly. “I was able to morph a standard company picture of you into Sweden’s sexiest top model. They picked you up right away.”
Emma scowled, her face flushed a stubborn red. “I’m not a fucking blonde, Rylee!” She then grabbed the end of her hair, as if to make a point of her fiery strawberry locks as she waved it in front of his face.
“I know,” he continued, completely oblivious to her anger. “But with a wonderful thing called technology, we can temporarily change your hair color in less than a minute. Now will you please do this, Em? Do you want the entire world to comprise of zombies?”
“I hate people.”
“But what about us?”
“You’re not much better.”
“Well, what about Elijah? What if they kidnap him and erase all of his thoughts, memories, recollections, emotions…”

Elijah opened his mouth to refute the statement and remind him he was Elijah Walker afterall, and that would never happen, but Emma seemed to cut him to the chase, something else smoldering in her eyes. The smirk fell off his face once he realized what replaced her anger – fear.

He felt an almost instinctive urge to squeeze her hand from beneath the table, hoping the tiny gesture would convince her that everything would be fine; that he’d be fine. They’d all be fine.

“Okay,” she murmured, her voice clipped and irritated. “I’ll do it.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma was not amused. Not one, teeny, tiny, little bit. The last thing she wanted to do was dance around a dark, dirty club, wearing close to nothing and being the subject of a perverts disturbing fantasy, with strange hands touching her and greedy eyes watching her every move.
It sounded like her own personal hell.

She spared a quick, sharp glance in Elijah’s direction. If pretending to be a stripper for one night meant that he’d be safe for another day longer, then she’d do it. The moment Rylee had mentioned Elijah losing his memories and emotions, all her resilience and determination had vanished, fear taking its place. The thought of him forgetting her, forgetting them…

Rylee cut her thoughts short as he placed a similar cube onto the table top, a mischievous glint in his eye. Another blue screen materialised, this one holding an image of Beth, sporting bright red hair, the ruby locks cascading around her shoulder in loose curls.
Beth gaped at the image. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s you.” Rylee offered her simply, a boyish smile capturing his lips.
“That’s not me.”
“Oh, I think it is,” Emma intervened, shooting the girl a smile of her own. “Looks like I’m not the only one who’ll be playing this game.”

A childish part of Emma wanted to point and laugh at the stunned brunette, ”Ha! See how you like it!”, if only to make herself feel better, but her restraint won out and she settled for a smug grin instead.

Beth’s head snapped from one direction to the other. “You told me only Emma had to do it!”
Emma felt her brow twitch in annoyance. “Oh yeah, because out of the three women here, I’m the most in tune with my sexual side. Why the hell should it have been me to do it?!”

Logan laughed, “Because you’re the hottest.”
“A unique kind of attractive.” Lucas added from behind his book.
“A killer body.” Sol winked.
“Curvaceous in all the right places.” Ethan added further.
Rylee swiped his arm across the table top, scooping up the cubes. “You have the potential to bring a man to his knees, Em, only you don’t know it.”

Any other woman would have soaked up the comments eagerly, taking them as the compliments they were intended to be, but Emma, however? Not so much. With each additional statement, her irritation only escalated.

"Yeah. Its worked on one man so far, after all." Elijah winked in her direction playfully.

She rolled her eyes at him, trying to ignore the way her stomach somersaulted at his words.
“So, all those things automatically make me a good candidate for a stripper?”
Storing the cubes away safely into the rucksack, Rylee shook his head, “Not necessarily. Those things make you… tempting, Emma, and that’s what we need you do to. Tempt. Between you and Beth, you shouldn’t have a problem getting access to their base below. Be sexy!”

Emma and Beth’s eyes locked, their resolve faltering.

Emma sighed, “I want to know the exact person I’m supposed to be…tempting. If you think for a second that I’ll be climbing over every man in the room until we find the right one, you’re crazy.”
“The tattoos will give them away, right?” Ethan called back, glancing briefly from the road ahead. “All the Triad members have them.”
“That guy back in Safe Haven had one on the back of his neck,” Rylee shifted uncomfortably, clearly recalling the memory in his mind. “A circle with a triangle in the centre. I saw it just before I…”
“Brained him.” Elijah finished.
“Yeah, that.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard,” Ethan continued. “All you girls have to do is find one.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

***

The Smoke Room was a dark-bricked compact building with boarded windows and a neon sign in hot pink radiating from just above the door. Elijah was clad in a conservative battleship gray suit with rimmed glasses and a cigarette between his lips. He would be sharing a few beers and some pretzels with Jennings McAvoy, a supposed Triad member. Logan and Rylee had tirelessly relayed the information about the man to him – an ex-con arrested for hacking into the country’s main banking system and looting several million that had only join the Triad for amnesty against the vicious claws of the government. Apparently there had been Triad members on the inside that had cleared his files in the middle of the night, helping him with a clean escape into oblivion. The only thing the Triad didn’t seem to know was that Jennings McAvoy had a price, and would sell information on the secret organization if enough bank notes were slid in his face.

Elijah would pretend to be an affluent business man interested in giving him five million dollars for any and all secrets that regarded the Triad, as well as a swift identity change so he could flee the country by tomorrow morning. Only there would be no money, and no fleeing – they’d use him as a catalyst to learn more about the Triad, and perhaps threaten to spill confidential information if the exact whereabouts of the president wasn’t revealed.

It would be a brilliant plan if everyone did their parts well and stayed in character. Starting with Beth and Emma.

“Why are thongs so uncomfortable?” Beth hissed, crudely tugging at her backside as a skimpy half-top circled her slender features, cleavage nearly spilling out of its confines. Elijah stared for longer than he should have before removing the stick from his mouth.

“Now you understand the hard life of a stripper. Uncomfortable underwear, clothes that are too tight, all of that,” Sol responded with a slight smirk as she was dressed down in a black t-shirt and jeans, hair slicked back. She would be camped out on the outside in case there was a runway with while Lucas, who was dressed up in a wing-tipped blouse and tie, would be offering backup if things got out of hand on the inside. Rylee, Ethan and Logan were operating things from within the control vehicle.

Beth rolled her eyes in response, before Elijah glanced around at the scene for a newly-turned blonde only to see she was nowhere in sight. A cluster of men in clean formal wear and hats glanced at the cluster of people by the entrance with vague interest before slipping into the club, a cloud of smoke seeping from the door.

“Where’s Emma?” he questioned, pivoting his body to see if he had accidentally missed her.
Beth let out a scoff. “Good question.” Then, heels clicking over to a car a few yards away, she rapped on the window. “Emma! Get out!”
“Hell no,” Elijah heard her hiss, only to snicker slightly. This would be good.
“Emma! We need to do this! There’s not much time!” she exclaimed. “I did it! So can you!”

The air was showered in silence before the door swung open, Elijah’s eyes nearly popping out of his sockets at the sight. Her hair, once a fiery red, was now a luminous platinum, lips puckered with bright red lipstick, eyelashes curtaining over hazel eyes and a tinge of blush on her cheeks. She was clad in a deep red corset over a silk panty and garters, although her outfit was soon covered by a trench coat that matched Beth’s.

“Well, now that we’re done wasting time, even though both of you ladies look incredible,” Sol began, “could we please get this over with?”

She then tilted her jaw towards the glittery doors, signaling entrance.

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Never, in her twenty-nine years of living, had Emma felt this uncomfortable in her own skin before. Every item of clothing currently touching her skin made her feel restless and uneasy, putting her miles out of her comfort zone. But then, hadn’t the last few months done just that? Hell, Emma was beginning to forget what a comfort zone was.

She shuffled anxiously on the spot, hands brushing at the sleeves of the dull grey trench coat covering her bare arms. If she felt this way now, god only knew what she’d feel like inside that club…

Emma looked up at the dark-bricked building opposite; it loomed above, seemingly growing larger the longer she stared at it, its lights reminding her of a flickering pink flame, drawing in the unsuspecting moths. She grimaced at the thought; what if they were the moths? After all, they were acting on gut feelings and relying on technology, in a district deep within the South that none of them had visited before, and following the leader of a psychotic cult.
They were anywhere but in a strong position.

Forcing her gaze away from the club, Emma turned to Elijah, who was now standing at her side, his hands deep within the pockets of his grey suit. He looked leaner in the smart attire, the material hugging at the contorts of his form comfortably; and the glasses that sat neatly on his straight nose made him look… dorky.
It amazed her when she realised how attracted to that she was. Dorky on Elijah was absolutely adorable, which in turn only made him more appealing to her.

“That better be the last cigarette you smoke tonight,” She murmured to him. “Otherwise you won’t be kissing me for a while.”
To this day, Emma had a dislike for cigarettes, the scars located on various spots around her body would always make sure of that.

And speaking of which, many of them were on show in her current choice of outfit. She’d already mentally noted to keep her hair over her right shoulder as much as she possibly could.

Elijah smirked. "How can you resist this?"
“For as long as it takes for the taste of smoke to disappear from your mouth.” Emma looked away, her attention once more set onto the club. “So…do I look as ridiculous as I feel?”
"You look smokin'," he responded, before adding with a slight snicker, "No pun intended."
She rolled her eyes. “Even with the blonde hair?”
Emma looked and felt like Amanda. How could that be sexy?
"Even with the blonde hair," he repeated, gripping her shoulders before pressing a soft, tender kiss to her forehead. "You'll do fine."

For a brief second, Emma allowed herself to indulge in the touch, her hands gripping lightly at the smooth material of his suit jacket.

“Hey!” Sol’s voice broke through Emma’s haze. She pushed herself between them, shoving them apart with one hard shove. “Stop with the fucking lovey dovey shit. We’ve got more important stuff to do – like work!”
Beth materialised at Emma’s back, her arm looping through her own. “Let’s go, before Sol blows up.”
“Or before someone spots Eli stuffing his tongue down a strippers throat!” Sol snapped in reply.
“Watch your mouth.” Emma turned a hard, stern glare onto the woman. “Or I’ll be stuffing my fist down your throat.”

Her fingers hesitated, lingering on Elijah’s jacket until the very last second. Then, when her hand was once more at her side, Emma followed behind Beth to the side of the building, entering through a black door labelled ’Staff Only.

The building was alive with noise, the serene silence sealed away as the door slammed shut behind them, locking them within the madness.

“Stay close,” Beth told her as they walked down the bustling hallway.
An array of woman were busily moving throughout the back rooms, some wearing nothing but a pair of panties, showcasing their bare breasts for the world to see.
With this kind of company, Emma felt overdressed in the trench coat.

Some doors were opened as they past by, giving the pair a full view of what was happening inside; it ranged from the simple things, girls getting dressed, or slapping on the make-up in the mirrors, to the more intense. One man was most definitely getting his money’s worth – and ruining a perfectly good tie.

Beth stopped short at the end of the hall, a tall, dark haired Asian woman standing in their path, wearing the smallest, tightest leather dress Emma had seen. How did she move in that thing?
“You’re here. About time.” Dark eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of them. “Lose the coats. You’re on the floor in ten.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Elijah let the smoke plume from between his lips, taking in the distinct flavor of a good cigar as he seated himself next to the Triad Member in question. Jennings McAvoy was a weasley looking man with gelled back, dusty blonde hair, a narrow, pointed nose, and ridiculously disproportioned, stuffy cheeks. Christ, it wasn’t a shocker the man had to get his pleasures from paying off women – there was no way in hell he had any sort of game with features that resembled a caricature.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McAvoy,” he greeted, reaching out a hand to shake the other man.
“Ah yes, Mr. Churchill, it is a pleasure indeed.” His bright green eyes connected with Elijah’s twinkling under the dulled strobe lights of the club. Then, pausing, he glanced down at the jet black box of cigars resting by his elbow, eyebrows perking upwards. “Excuse me for asking, but if I’m not mistaken, are those Cohibas?”
Elijah’s face instantly lit up with a feigned excitement before nodding. “How’d you know?”
“I consider myself a connoisseur of cigars. I’ve been smoking them since I was fourteen.” He chuckled delightfully before ordering them a round of Scotch.

Out of all the Triad members they had met so far, he was certainly the friendliest.

“Would you like one?” Elijah offered, nudging the box towards him with an encouraging nod. He then brought the cigar back to his lips before taking several drags. Other than the unruly days of his youth where he’d steal a pack of his mother’s cigarettes and smoke it out in the woods with some friends, Elijah didn’t consider himself a smoker. Matter of fact, had it not been for the incredible control he had over his body, he was sure he would have been wheezing on the suffocating cloud that settled in his throat.

“Thank you, that’s kind,” he responded while reaching for the thick cigar and allowing Elijah to light it for him. Their view simultaneously locked onto the stage, a maze of glossy poles all leading towards a contemporary black catwalk that led out from the entrance. His stomach did somersaults at the notion of Emma soon appearing from behind the black silk in nothing but a skimpy corset and panties.

“Come out here to see anyone special?” the man inquired, accepting the drink from the waitress as he obnoxiously stuck a twenty in her bra. The woman seemed disgusted, although Jennings didn’t seem to notice. She then traipsed over to him, removing the glass from her tray as she bent over in front of him, her cleavage inches from his face. From beneath glittered lashes, she winked at him before discreetly squeezing his bicep and moving over to the next table.

Elijah took a moment to think about his question before allowing the smirk to tweak at the corners of his lips, nodding in response. “Yeah. And yourself?”
“Just playing the field, my friend,” he replied, smoke flitting past his chapped lips.
Elijah snickered in response while shaking his head in the process. If he hadn’t been under a disguise with numerous limitations, he would have quickly told the man there was an exceedingly large chance that more than ninety-five percent of the women in the club found him repulsive, but alas, he had a job to complete.

“So, shall we get to business?” Elijah inquired before tapping lightly at the briefcase next to his inside foot.
Jenning’s eyes smoldered with a pure, unadulterated greed as he nodded frankly. “Absolutely.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma stood behind the curtain, precisely ninth in the line of women gradually filtering out onto the stage. Beth was two in front of her, shooting her uneasy glances every few seconds. The way they were being herded out, one after another, it was both degrading and unnecessary. Though somehow, it felt fitting; after all, Emma had the unnerving sense that they were like lambs being led to slaughter.

As the line dwindled ever closer, she found herself thinking of Elijah - Shocker! What else did she think about in her spare time? – and how things were going with him. He was more than capable of looking after himself, Triad member or not, but would he be successful in getting them the answers they needed? For all they knew, the northern president could be within the hidden base below, locked away as a prisoner.

The curtain parted and Beth vanished out into the spotlight, quickly followed by the girl behind her. Sepia, the tall Asian woman who took command of the club’s female staff had informed her of what to expect once she stepped out onto the stage. Main objective? Head toward the man waving the most money at you. Sounded simple enough.

Emma blinked when she realised that the parting curtain was now for her, the woman in front of her already reaching the end of the catwalk and into the waiting arms of a burly man.

Jesus Christ, was she actually doing this? Walking out into a horde of horny, perverted, rich men, wearing next to nothing; it was hardly ideal.

Forcing her legs to move, Emma strode out into the light, her stride oozing with a confidence she didn’t have.

Music thumped loudly from the overhead speakers, an array of multicoloured lights flashed up from various locations on the catwalk, illuminating the runway and the eager, smirking faces of the men outlining it. Emma weaved throughout the poles, her hands unconsciously touching at the cold metal as she looked down into the crowd. Wolf whistles echoed from one end of the room to the other, as well as other more obscene noises from the men at her sides. She’d never seen humans look more like animals before in her life – they drummed at the stage excitedly, money filled fists pounding hard onto the surface, tongues hanging from their mouths like a panting dog.

“Come on sugar, come to daddy!”
“…good enough to eat!”
“Sway those luscious hips this way, honey!”
“...they’d be a hand full. Yes, please!” Another, loud wolf whistle sounded, drawing her attention to a tall, lanky brunette to her right. His arm was raised high into the air, long fingers clutching at a wad of hundred dollar bills. But the money wasn’t what caught her lingering stare; it was the circular tattoo peeping out from beneath his sleeve that interested her.
Hellooo, Mr.Triad.

Emma forced a smile to her lips as she sauntered across to him, her steps deliberately slow. A chorus of boo’s sounded when it was clear to everyone that she’d made her choice; one man beside Mr.Triad even pulled more money out of his suit pocket in an attempt to draw her attention elsewhere. Emma ignored the feeble try and pressed her back up against the nearest pole, her arms raised above her hand, showcasing the swell of her breasts.

His eyes grew wide and glassy with her movements, his mouth dropping open. “It’s my goddamn birthday…” He breathed, reaching out and beckoning her forward.

Without the hesitation she felt, Emma allowed him to take her hand and lift her from the stage. The second her heels touched the floor, his grabbing hands were everywhere, brushing at her waist to get to her thigh. He squeezed tightly at the sensitive flesh there. “I’m Van. I’m telling you my name, because you’ll be screaming it later.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Elijah didn’t waste a second cutting straight to business as he inclined his body along the table, fingers folded together. “Where’s Hoffman?” Right now, the ex-mayor was the true bounty on the list, and perhaps their only true key in putting an end to this. But capturing him had become exceedingly difficult when his goons were out doing the hard work for him while he hid somewhere safe.

Jennings rolled the cigar in between his fat fingers before responding, “He was just here, actually.”
Elijah’s eyebrows instantly perked up. “And he’s still here?”
“No.”
His lips tightened slightly. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“Mr. Churchhill. Unfortunately Hoffman is always moving – there’s no place he stays in for longer than forty eight hours. It’s too dangerous. With rebel groups popping up around the nation, he’s a hot commodity. Do you know how many people want his blood smeared under their fingernails? He realizes this.”
“And he’s trying to wipe these groups out?”

Jennings snorted softly before nodding. “They’re his only threat, really. The rest of the nation is either a) trying to escape which is impossible now, b) committing suicide, c) frightened into submission, or d) already turned into mindless robots.”
Elijah pressed his back into the chair, expression emotionless as he expertly masked the flurry of thoughts that paraded through his brain. “And why can’t anyone escape?”
“The airports are barricaded; guards are surrounding any and all borders and seaways. Hoffman has gotten what he wanted, and that’s blocking off America from the rest of the world. Sort of like North Korea, decades ago, if you will.”

Elijah had been experiencing more ‘oh, fuck’ moments in this month than he had ever in his life. Every fiber of his being wanted to be the slightest bit worried, but hindering emotions such as fear had no room in his regime. It was for the weak. And weak was something he was not. All they would need is more manpower – a way to get in contact with other rebel groups and fuel a revolt. They couldn’t do this alone anymore.

“What are the Triad’s next plans?” Elijah inquired, starting on his next shot and downing it in one swallow. The cigar he had started was burning slowly on the ash tray next to his elbow.

“Hoffman is incredibly secretive with his plans; I suppose he doesn’t trust us as much as he lets on. All I can tell you is his plans aren’t staying in America – he wants world domination, and will fight until his very last breath to get it.”

“Christ,” Elijah breathed. It was evident the man had lost his marbles a long time ago; after all, who woke up and thought, ‘Well gee! Lemme go tell mommy I want to be a raging murderer slash world dictator!’ That was surely an interesting conversation for the dinner table.

In the midst of their conversation, Elijah’s eyes had occasionally skirted over to his red-head-turned-blonde, a stocky man with balding hair and an expression that looked much too happy for his comfort, placing a firm hand on her ass. Elijah bit down on his tongue, forcing away the incessant urge to smash the prick’s face in before reaching down into his wallet and waving a few twenties in her face when their eyes connected, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.

Elijah didn’t want to break up dialogue that would no doubt aide their cause, but when Emma looked as uncomfortable as she did, he had to intervene, even if she only stopped by for a minute or two.

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

When Elijah’s burning blue eyes connected with hers through the bustling crowd, she couldn’t control the overriding need to go to him. Mr. Triad was hands on, the constant movement of his touch making it difficult for Emma to start a search of her own; she’d barely managed to grip at his leather clad shoulders before he was forcing her to move away, his grabby fingers continuously knocking her concentration. And not in the good way, not in the way she was used too.

His hungry lips pressed to her collarbone, his slobbering tongue flicking out across her skin. Emma nearly convulsed on the spot, her muscles tensing, and her skin itching to break free of his unwanted attention. “You smell like the ripest cherry, just ready and waiting to be picked.”

She wanted to be the one to punch this guy in the face when the time came, and if he touched her any closer to – rough fingers stroked across her inner thigh, and that was it. Emma pushed back from him, her hands fisted at her sides to stop her from striking out in a way she normally would have. There was pretending, and then there was going too far. Emma had a hard enough time letting him be this close to her, let alone touching her in a way she’d only ever experienced with Elijah.

“Easy tiger,” Mr. Triad purred, her momentary loss of control ignored. His hands captured her hips once more, dragging her back to him. “Don’t rush. We’ll get to the good part soon.”

Puzzled, Emma glanced behind her, only to see the corridor leading off to the private suits.
You wish, she thought, turning back to him. It would be a cold, very cold, day in hell before Emma took a single step down that corridor.

“I’m not the one that’s rushing here,” Emma forced herself to tell him teasingly, her finger tip poking at his stubby nose. “Those hands of yours need time to cool down. I’ll be right back.”
Before she could so much as turn from him, Mr. Triad latched onto her arm, his long fingers tight. “Where are you going?”
“I have a regular who wants my attention,” She winked at him and touched his hand briefly. “I can’t disappoint, baby, but I’ll be back, don’t worry about that.” It wasn’t like Emma had a choice; she needed to get to a Triad member, to find a way to get into the base below, and unfortunately for her, this snake was one of them.

His stern features softened, but his fingers didn’t loosen. “If you don’t come back in five minutes, I’ll come and get you myself.”
Emma patted his hand once more, “Of course, baby. I’ll be back.”
At her forced reassurance, Mr. Triad dropped his hand, a smile crawling to his lips when she turned away; no doubt from the power he was sure he had over her, ‘allowing’ her to leave his side. She would have laughed at him if she could have.

With the use of the sultry walk she’d used on stage, Emma approached Elijah’s table, catching the attention of the man sat with him. He looked her up and down much like Mr. Triad did, hunger and lust buried deep within his gaze, but Emma didn’t pay the man any attention, her interest zoned in entirely on her slick suited man.

Even in this environment, the closer she got to him, the more she felt herself relax.

Bracing her palms on the table top in front of Elijah, Emma leaned in, his familiar scent overpowering all other smells emitting around the club. “Hello, big guy. What can I do for you tonight?”

[/blockquote][/font]