When Everything Changes
Author's note: Yeah, I know I'm a little late to the party, but I only recently figured out how to summit works... Show full author's note »
PursuitNeal ran through the woods, ignoring the thorns and braches tearing at him. He couldn’t believe he had gotten himself into this, and he wasn’t even sure what he had gotten himself into! After he ran away from the ghost girl he caught up with the van again, just in time to see it go now a right side if the road he didn’t even know existed and his curiosity had gotten the better of him, so he took advantage of the trees and bushes and hid in them to fallow the van. When the van parked he knelt down in some bushes, and watched as they parked, got out of the car, the young woman he found himself calling Goth Girl getting stuck in the dirt, Gwen and Jack helping her get free, Jack declaring he wanted to set up camp because this-whatever the this was-was going to take longer than one day. The fact that they opted for camping rather finding a motel or inn was a clear sign that whatever they were doing wasn’t on the up and up. At that point he lost his balance and fell. And then they started chasing him through the woods with their guns drawn. He was rather certain he was going to die.
Certain he had lost his pursuers, Neal walked more slowly through the woods, realizing her had another problem: he was hopelessly lost. He was too scared to go back, having a pretty good idea of what was there, but he knew that if he kept going deeper into the woods said woods would eventually devour him. Yes, he figured, if the armed band who was doing who-knows-what didn’t shoot him dead, possibly after torturing him to know why he was spying on them, he’d die of exposure or dehydration or attacked by some wild animal.
Neal stumbled over a rock, but was able to catch on to a tree branch before he fell. Despite being rather fit, he was not made for the woods. He had sent the majority of his life in a cosmopolitan setting, and the only experience he had with forests were drawing or painting landscapes of them. He hopped the people chasing him were just as bad at navigating through the great outdoors as he was, then he might have a fighting chance. Certainly Goth Girl couldn’t be, otherwise she wouldn’t have wore those spiked heels. As he continued through the woods he felt a sang on his shoulder. He tried to continue but he couldn’t move. He turned around to see his jacket had caught on a tree. Deciding trying to get it off wasn’t worth the time, he took his arms out of the sleeves and ran.
Violet ran through the woods, ignoring the members of her team calling her name behind her, looking ahead at the trail her quarry was leaving. There were probably going to consequences for ignoring them, but she didn’t care and it wasn’t even her fault she didn’t care or had run off in the first place, when she saw the trail the guy had left she had edmitly zoned in, which was what she called it when she went into a trace-like state while hunting, where all she saw or heard or smelled or noticed whatsoever was her prey and/or the trail it left. It didn’t matter rather weather she was hunting a buck or tracking a potential spy, the trance was just the same. She took a piece of broken branch in her hand, and sighed. “’Unbelievable.” She thought to herself, “This must’ve put his full weight on this branch. What would possessed him to-“ She didn’t have to look far for the answer. She looked down to see the rock he must have stumbled over. This guy was not made for the woods. “Then again,” Violet thought to herself, as she picked up the tattered black suit jacket the man had shed on another tree, “The preppy clothes kind of gave that away. I mean, I know I’m not exactly dressed for the area either, but I’m a having an identity crisis, what’s his excuse?” Her mental rant was interrupted by a rusluling to her right. She turned around and, sure enough, there were the tracks she had been fallowing. She walked over to the tree and saw the guy was now in her sights. She thought about trying to shoot him, but then realized that she could probly get close enough she could bring him back without having to hurt him, so she tied the jacket around her waist-just dropping might make noise-started to sneak towards the man who was now standing still, trying to figure out where to go.
Neal couldn’t believe it. Not only was Goth Girl good at navigating through the woods, she was right on his trail! By the way she examined the trail he could tell she was tracking him, her gun ready to shoot, she looked like a seasoned huntress. Add that with the tense movements of her body, the intense look in her, the dirt that covered her stocking feet, she looked feral. He looked around trying to find a somewhat clear trail to run down when he heard the click of a gun behind him and cold, female, American accented voice saying, “Turn around.”
Neal turned around, his hands raised, though she hadn’t told him to, it was more out of habit really. He saw Goth Girl had her hand gun heal right at his chest, her finger on the trigger.
“I’m unarmed.” Neal said, calmly as he could manage.
Goth Girl looked at him intensely and said, “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.” She walked to the side, her gun still trained on him, and then walked up to his back and put the barrel of the gun on his side. When Neal flinched Goth Girl said, “You move, you die.” Then she stuck her hand into Neal right pants pocket. Then she stuck her hand into his other pants pocket. Then she untucked part of his shirt, stuck her hand in his shirt, and started feeling his abdomen, startling him. “Hey!” He cried.
“Don’t hey me,” Goth Girl said, “If you didn’t want to be searched you shouldn’t have been spying on us.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve had searches done when I’ve been arrested that were less invasive than this.” She was feeling the side of his chest now.
“What you arrested for?”
Neal stopped talking. He wasn’t sure if he should tell her. He wouldn’t know how to even begin explaining so he decided to keep his mouth shut.
“You’re not gonna tell me?” She had finished with his torso, and had moved on his legs, kneeling down and feeling them from the outside of his pants. “You were so talkative a minute ago.” The she stood up, keeping her gun trained to him and said, “Walk.”
They started walking in lock step. Neal caught a whiff of something on the breeze. Like roses, mixed with frankincense and sweet almonds. It had to be some sort of perfume Goth Girl was wearing. Not a bad sent to smell before one died, he decided. As they turned back to the way they had come her eyes turn to look Neal. “What’s your name?” She asked, the edge in her voice lost.
“I guess the interrogation’s already started,” Neal thought to himself, but said nothing out loud.
“My name’s Violet,” Her voice now softened.
Neal wasn’t expecting that but it calmed him a bit. “Neal,” He responded, “My name’s Neal.”
Just then, the sound of crunching of leaves and twigs filled the forest and the team came into view. Neal and Violet took another lock step forward. “Look who I found,” Violet said, pushing a Neal a little further with her hand, “He told his name was Neal. He seems kinda scared, so Martha’s innocent guy, wrong place, wrong time theory’s looking better and better, but for full disclosure he’s very good at controlling his emotions, so he’s obviously a pro at something or other, and he emitted to being arrested once but not for what.”
“Let’s get him back to the camp and sort this thing out.” Jack said. Then all turned around and started walk back to the camp, Violet with her gun still trained on Neal. “Oh, and Violet,” Jack added.
“Yes, Jack?” Violet replied.