Currently Untitled- Chapter Three
Fic: Currently Untitled
Fandom: RPFS
Characters/Pairing: Many. Jennifer Tilly and T-Swift in this chapter!
Rating: M15 this time, for violence. And the f word.
Word Count: This many
Disclaimer: Yeah, I wish I had control over the hottest female celebrities out there. Please don't sue me. I have no money. At all.
A/N: I remember reading a superhero fic involving some of the most awesome musicians I know of, however I can't find it anymore :( So I decided to write my own!
The bullet left the gun with a dull “tsew”, effectively quieted by the silencer. Jennifer spun the gun thrice around on her finger before sliding it back into its holster, looking around at the scene in front of her: twelve bodies, each the head of distinctive branches of “the business” lay looking up at her with dead eyes.
Footsteps. Shit.
She moved quickly, picking their pockets with gloved hands; money, jewellery, watches and cigarettes were claimed and shoved into her bag. Satisfied with her work- and her revenge- she slipped out the back entrance, casually tossing an unpinned grenade back into the room as one door closed and the other was stormed by a team of S.W.A.T agents. The resulting explosion put a grin on her face.
“Fuck you, government.”
She slung the bag over her shoulder and jumped into flight as the remaining handful of the S.W.A.T team burst out of the back door in a rush of smoke that smelled like gunpowder and blood; shooting at her figure as she retreated in the air, laughing.
Jennifer loved to fly. It was the only place she could ever really think; REALLY think, about real things and not about her work. She may have been one of the best assassins in the world but she still needed Jen-time; and now that she'd taken on an apprentice that time seemed to be getting less and less. Jennifer had met, or rather caught Taylor stealing from her. The girl had been standing on the other side of the road and was casually lifting the wallet out of Jennifer's bag with just her mind. While astounded, she was still a professional and had tracked the girl down to a shabby apartment in the less glamorous region of the city. Finding her had been the easy part. It was fighting her way through a cavalcade of flying books, chairs, ornaments and invisible barriers that had been the hard part. Taylor was terrified of her; most sane people would be. But she was really terrified, curled in a corner with a forcefield like barrier around herself, her blonde hair obscuring her face and shaking, screaming, crying uncontrollably. This had confused Jennifer severely, and had her forgetting about her wallet to simply calm the girl down. It had taken hours, but the girl eventually stated- in great, hiccuping sobs- that she wasn't going to let Jennifer take her back to “that horrible place on the island”. Jennifer responded by showcasing her ability of flight, earning Taylor's trust and her wallet back. “How about,” she had said. “How about I teach you everything I know?” The younger woman became her shadow: eagerly learning how to fight and steal without using her mind and without leaving a trace. However, she refused to learn how to take a life. “It's just not right.” was her argument.
A beeping in Jennifer's ear brought her thoughts back to where she was: floating over a network of grey and white, the urban sprawl beneath her reminiscent of the carpet in her apartment; dirty and old. Pressing a button on the piece in her ear, she answered the phone “It's Jennifer, you're good to go.”
“Tilly. You gotta get your ass over here like, yesterday. We have a situation.” Beyoncé's voice whispered, smooth as honey and with a bee's stinger still attached.
“Let me get the little one and I'll be there as soon as I can.”
Her reply was a disconnected tone. Looking down, she watched as the city got further and further away and white sand and palm trees came into view. Jennifer started her descent, aiming for the small cottage that hung a few metres from the water's edge. She touched down gently on the veranda, opening the door and walking briskly inside to the guest bedroom where the blonde lay, still asleep.
“T. T! Get up.” The blonde hardly stirred. “Taylor! Up!” A poke in the ribs had her jolting out of bed and onto the floor in a tangle of sheets.
“Whuwassat? I'm'wake.”
Jennifer rubbed her temple and turned to go to her own room. “You have ten minutes. We have to leave. Emergency.”
Just over ten minutes later the pair of them were dressed in similar outfits: black tops and pants, save for Jennifer's firearms strapped to her waist and shoulders. Selecting a ring of keys from the DVD shelf, Jennifer practically ran out the door with Taylor following behind her, the pair of them crossing the beach and jumping into the cleverly disguised boat awaiting them. At the press of a button, the outer hull of the boat fell off to reveal a sleek black exterior build for speed. The insides changed too; parts shifting and growing and shrinking and becoming infinitely more comfortable. A key turned in the ignition and the boat roared to life, speeding off so fast that Taylor thought her hair was going to fly off of her scalp. She yelled over the wail of the engine “Where are we going?!”
A smirk. “Where all good superheroes go eventually: New York. I got some friends for you to meet.”
The rest of the trip was spent in silence until they abandoned their ride for a more favourable telekinetic flight, landing on the lawn of an expansive mansion not long after. A figure sat on the porch to greet them.
“Well it's about fucking time!”
tbc...