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FYI [May. 6th, 2008|08:43 am]
the_middleone
[Tags|, , , , ]

Where: An undisclosed location
When: Sunday
Who:Bea

Macha rocked back and forth as she tried to count off the number of days she thought she been in here. If she was right, then her birthday was soon. Like tomorrow or today soon. She was sixteen now or almost now and she was supposed to be in a fancy restaurant, in a fancy dress eating dinner before going out to a teenager friendly dance club and then maybe, *maybe* if all her stars had aligned properly and they managed to find the time for it, she and Nick were going to have sex. For the first time in this body. They'd been on a handful of dates, but he was cute and charming and attentive and she was curious.

And all her plans had been shot to hell by the fact that she'd been stupid enough to be off her guard for a second and someone had kidnapped her. No, not just kidnapped her, but drugged her, and performed some sort of weird medical stuff on her. And that was just the nice stuff they'd done. The other stuff, the ordeals she guessed she could call them had been hard and painful. After her first round of those, they'd tossed her back in the Pit, as she liked to call it and she hurt so bad, she couldn't move, couldn't even really raise her head for anything.

That'd been the first night she cried.

She cried for the first time since finding out about Mom and Dad and the car crash.

Things had gotten marginally better. The food at least was halfway edible, though she wondered what they were spiking it with, because they had to be spiking it. It's what she might have done.

They also had to be taping her somehow so she had to be very careful on what she said and how she said it. She just wanted to go home. To be home with her aunt and sisters. Why weren't they here yet? Why hadn't they found her yet? Weren't they coming for her? She curled up into a small ball, whispering to herself. "Happy birthday to me."

"How's our latest subject doing?" The question came abruptly and the tech looked up startled. " She's...um fine, sir. I mean for being here that is. She's really coming along nicely. Endurance tests are being blown out of the water and our psych profile is almost complete." Commander O'Brien nodded, "Alright, she mention anything? Family, friends, any particular names we can run?"

The tech shook his head, " No sir, I mean we've gotten her to cry, gotten her to scream, but apart from that, she's been mostly silent."

"Curious," Kele noted, "So young too." He remarked absently. "Yes, sir, though we've figured out something interesting about her a few moments ago." The tech flipped some switches, "Just a few moments ago, she said something." Kele leaned close to the screen, "Have you figured out what it is yet?" The tech shrugged, "They're still analyzing it upstairs, sir, but it sounded awfully like happy birthday to me." Kele shot him a look, " Play it back slower this time." he instructed. The tech nodded and Kele managed to slowly read the subject's lips. "Looks like you're correct." he said, thoughts wheeling around in his mind, "Keep up the good work." The tech beamed, "Thank you, sir."

Kele left the building, hands jammed into the pockets of his pants as he walked to where his next meeting would be, trying to block out the mental images of red hair and those stare-through eyes.

Bea shivered as she managed to get a small amount of sleep before they came for her again.
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[Mar. 21st, 2008|01:49 pm]
easydrakeoven
[Tags|, , ]
[mood | chipper]

Who: Drake Howell and OPEN
Where: Starbucks on Capitol Hill
When: Friday, Noon

Drakes hair took about twenty minutes, his makeup…an hour. It was a look, a cultivated persona that no one could possibly deny. People stared, gawked. Old ladies crossed the road in polite neighborhoods to move away from him, and that was all fine…all good. Personally Drake didn’t care. If he worried about caring he’d never get anywhere in life, and that was just a waste of his time. Plus, he had more to worry about when it came to his band and paying rent.

“Drake…” His supervisor all but stalked up to him as he looked up, flicking hair out of his face as he adjusted a fingerless glove that inched half way up his arm. “Drake…you weren’t supposed come to work dressed like that. When I called to ask if you could fill in for Marc, I….” She was flabbergasted.

“Uh, It was my day off…” Like he was going to go home and shower again just because she wanted him to work. He was trying to get the assistant manager slot, yeah, but he lived on the other side of the city. By the time he went home, showered, and came back, he’d have missed an hour and half of work anyway. “Just chill. I’ll make coffee and just not speak anyone.”

He set his camera off to the side, glancing around the hoards of tourist and yuppie businessmen that cast him horrified glances from time to time. He had to hide the smirk as he made his way to the back, and picked up the first order of the night. Hmm, mocha. Such a boring thing.

“Hey, you want to hurry up?” Drake pushed the stem nozzle into the cup as he looked up at the guy.

“What? I can’t hear you!”

The guy grumbled as Drake finished the drink, and all but snatched it away. Heh. Jerk…

“Drake…” He looked up and smiled…a little, “never show up like this again. If I ever call you like this, just tell me you….are trying to be a girl!

I don’t think I heard you, Jamie…what?

She hissed at him a little, moving around him to the register to take another order before pushing him out of the way, telling him to clean or something. It was stupid, but cleaning got him outside. And Outside gave him plenty of things to take pictures of…
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