Participants:
| Scene Title | The Lost Lion Cub |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Lucille Ryans has been on the run for a long time… |
| Date | October 3, 2010 |
The noise of the marketplace is a riot of shouting, laughter and the sound of passing cars.
Beneath a hot sun in sweltering heat and little breeze, the open-air markets of a heavily tourism-influenced bazaar spreads out as far as the eye can see in every direction. Cars speed by on a raised highway nearby, offering little shade from the afternoon sun that stabs down at a sharp angle from its perch in the cloudless skies above. Surrounding the plaza like the battlements of an old castle, walls of skyscrapers rise up high into the arid heavens, gleaming with walls of glass and concrete.
Beneath the minimal shadow of a palm tree, a young woman sits with her arms wrapped around herself on a concrete bench, her loose white blouse and tan slacks understated against the vibrant sea of colors of the other tourists. A shawl of ivory colored cotton is wrapped around the brunette's shoulders, her short, dark hair trimmed close to her head, wide blue eyes staring out worriedly into the marketplace.
The only thing that makes Lucille Ryans stand out from the crowd is her nervousness, is the fear that paints itself in her expressive eyes and across her face. One knee jittering up and down, Lucille looks up into the crowded bazaar, only to hear a voice come crisply over her shoulder from behind the bench.
"Morocco is gorgeous this time of year, isn't it?" A sharp breath escapes the back of Lucille's throat as she whips around, spotting a tall and smartly dressed man in a camel-colored suit and black undershirt unbuttoned slightly. His short brown hair is receeding, showing his age, and the horn-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose reflect the Moroccan sunlight in gleaming quality.
"Easy, Lucille. I'm a friend of your father," he cooly explains, offering out a hand to her.
"You can call me Mister Bennet."
One Month Earlier
Paris, France
September 3, 2010
"Lucille Ryans!" Comes a shout through the back dressing room, crowded with young women all with the build and likely weight of coat racks. Bright studio lights shine down on the dressing room, where some women are perched in folding chairs by large illuminated mirrors, having eccentric silver makeup applied to their faces, thick eyelined and eyeshadow and glittering fake lashes put on.
"Has anyone seen Lucille Ryans!?" The call goes sharply out from a sleekly dressed but diminitive man in an ink black suit, wild gray hair swept back into curly ringlets that cascade down to his shoulders. Carrying a clipboard fast to his chest, the director of the Paul d'Argent fashion line's upcoming show strides out of the dressing room and towards the back door to the studio lot, pushing the door open to find an equally tall, equally thin but unequally prepared young woman standing just outside the back door, a cigarette pinched between her fingers, tears welled up in her eyes and mascara running down her cheeks.
He may have sent the message days ago, but in her busy schedule, Lucille Ryans only now heard her father's final voicemail on her cell phone. That if she 'doesn't hear from him again' that he 'loves her and Delia dearly' and 'is sorry'.
"Lucille what the fuck is wrong," the little man asks with a slap of his clipboard to the inside of the door, "you're supposed to go out onto the runway in ten minutes!"
"Shit Randy! I'm so sorry." She says and drops the cancer stick and stomps it out before running into the building. She really needs to quick, it's time. The young model runs a hand over her new hair style and looks over her shoulder at the director as she prepares to go out on the runway soon.
Fuck, damnit. Lucille Ryans, you're messing things up. She thinks to herself as she grabs a tissue and fixes the make up that she's basically ruined. She's hoping that this doesn't screw up her future bookings. Then she stops herself.. dad just left a message implying that he might die.
Before the tears can come again, she shakes her head. "Deal later, work now." she mutters to herself.
"You're goddamned right you're sorry," the tiny, effeminite man shouts as he steps aside to let Lucille in, "and for the fifth fucking time it's Randall not Randy." Jerking his head towards the interior of the studio, Randall offers a furrow of his brows. "Also," he swings that clip-board out to smack against Lucille's stomach and bar her from entering. "You know how i feel about visitors on show time, but you have a few gentlemen callers waiting for you in the back hall past makeup."
Randall's eyes narrow, "Get them out of here and then get your ass into makeup, I don't care what boy drama you've got going on, you're in makeup in three minutes or I'm going to put Anya up in your place."
Boy drama?
Lucille blinks and then looks at Randall with a light smirk. Taking the clipboard and shoving it roughly out of the way. She smiles sweetly at the man, "Whatever you say.. Randall." Lu says softly and then she's moving forward towards where her 'callers' are? What the hell.. who does she even know here that would..?
Okay, it better not be that guy she kissed last night. He was beyond creepy. The oldest Ryans walks into the area and looks around. "Someone here looking for me?" she calls out and tilts her head. This is so dumb. That bitch Anya cannot be allowed to take her spot, she's evil!
When Lucille crosses the makeup floor and dressing room to the double-doors that leads out into the fluorescent-lit halls, there's three well-dressed gentlemen in suits standing patiently, one of them on a cell phone. " — she's here, I'll call you back." Flipping the phone shut, one of the three darkly-dressed gentlemen turns towards Lucille, taking a few steps closer towards her as he tucks his phone into his black jacket's interior pocket, then offers out a hand.
"Lucille, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Lucas, I'm a friend of your father's." Of the three men, 'Lucas' is the only one with a beard, trimmed close to his chin, as short as his hair is cut. He's old enough to be a friend of Benjamin's, probably somewhere in his early 40's, professionally dressed, military posture.
"Your father wanted me to come and get you. He's in a spot of trouble and he needs your help. I've been ordered to pick up both you and your sister." As Lucas is speaking, Lucille's phone vibrates noisily in the pocket it had been stowed away in.
"Oh! Does he need help? Is he okay?!" Lucille asks and she's getting ready to shake the guy's hands. He does look like he could be a friend of dad's nothing out of the ordinary. But how did they find her? Oh well.. it happens like that sometimes. Dad has powerful friends. The model then looks down to her phone and holds up on finger to the guy. "Sorry, hold on one second."
She turns around and moves away a few spaces. It could be her father or sister after all! With a shaky hand, she withdraws her phone and hopes that it's one of her family.
Lucas shifts awkwardly when Lucille reaches for the phone, but for as eager as he seemed to shake her hand, his head dips down into a slow, understanding nod. Her question never got answered, and when Lucille's attention turns to her cell phone, Lucas' turns to the other men in suits standing behind him. On Lucille's cell phone however isn't an incoming call, but a text message alert:
this man tried to kill your father. you are in danger. get away. — REBEL
"Everything allright, darlin'?" is Lucas' call as he starts to edge closer to Lucille, chin tilting up and eyes angling down, trying to get a better look at her cell phone.
"Well.. fuck me." Lucille says softly with wide eyes before she types out the quick reply of.
» Thanks, where should I go?
And then before the man can see. She whirls around and brings her elbow to his face. If she had an successful hit then she would have moved towards the doors, to exit the building. Hair flying as she does this all. The only thing running through her mind is that.. dad isn't dead.. dad isn't dead.. these men tried and obviously failed.
Were it not for Lucas Eldridge not expecting an elbow to be thrown his way, the agent of the Commonwealth Institute may have been able to protect himself. But when Lucille Ryans whips around and strikes the agent square in the cheek with the point of her elbow as he's closing in on her, there's a sharp jolt of pain that rocks through her arm from the hit, like being struck on the funny-bone, followed by Eldridge letting out a yelp of shock as he staggers backwards clutching his face before tripping over his own feet and landing flat on his back on the floor.
The moment Lucille begins to run, the other two agents are already in hot pursuit as she barrels through the double doors back into the dressing room and makeup area. The phone in her hand rings once, then the speakerphone activates and a three-part harmony of voices echoes up from the speaker.
«Turn left, head out onto the catwalk area. Run to the end and drop down into the seating area and head for the double doors at the end of the auditorium.»
Behind Lucille, shouting echoes as the agents call back to her, one reaching inside of his jacket and withdrawing a taser gun. The models let out a surprised shout when Lucille charges thorugh the back area, but when they see men in black suits chasing Lucille, one reaching for what outwardly looks not unlike a gun, screams begin to rise into the air.
«I will buy you as much time as possible.»
"Thanks for finally getting back in touch with me!" she yells and then she's shoving models to the side, adrenaline pumping through her as she makes her way to the catwalk. The model Anya gets a special shove that brings her to the ground behind her, something to slow the agents down.. and also to put Anya in her place.
Enough of petty drama, Lucille looks over her shoulder one second and then she's barreling through the last of the models and the person running the line and list. They look in shock as she charges out onto the catwalk and her eyes take a moment to adjust as she continues to run, she runs into a model who takes a tumble and she loses her footing, only to right herself and leap off the end of the catwalk and she's coming to a roll near the seats. One heel snaps and she kicks both shoes off. Better to go shoeless then to break her neck.
With a quick look, Lucille runs off towards the double doors. Arms pumping, she's not out of shape. She's just never had to run a whole lot. Models.. don't run.. they strut.
Screams fill the dressing rooms, followed by shouts and cries. The crowd of onlookers whom have only just now begun to flood into the hall for the show yelp with surprise when Lucille comes barreling off of the catwalk and rolls when she slams into the ground. «We had been avoiding contact with you at your father's request. However, now is not such a time as to be worried about promises.»
Behind Lucille, the two agents skid out onto the runway, then come to a halt when they see the crowd, dashing back behind the curtain and away from the stage lights, while Lucille plows through the double doors into the lobby of the theater that the modeling show is being held in. Hundreds of well-dressed men and women still wait to take their seats, conversing in the tiled theater lobby as Lucille comes running out barefoot. A fur murmurs of surprise bubble through the crowd, followed by sharp looks cast her way.
«Go outside.»
In the direction Rebel recommends, there is a wall of glass windows and doors leading out onto a sidewalk of a busy Parisian street, cars whippingpast, pedestrians crossing the sidewalk beyond where a velvet rope cordons off a large area for the fashion show attendants who had been previously waiting outside under dismal gray skies.
«You have sixteen seconds.»
"Got it."
Lucille looks towards the glass and doors and dashes towards them. "Move out of the way!" she yells, "Fire!" she yells louder. Fashion people don't want to be burned.. that's not a good look. So the model dodges around people and then she's yanking the door open and coming outside, attempting to cross the street.
No looks behind her back this time, she needs to get away. "Where to now?" she shouts over the sounds of the city.
The moment that Lucille yells fire, her boasts are backed up by the sudden scream of an alarm ringing noisily through the theater and the explosion of every single sprinklerhead in a shower of water cascading down on the guests. The fire alarms go off with raucous effect, creating a downpour inside of the building and sending all of the guests fleeing for the exits in a decidedly disorderly fashion. Concealed by the panicking crowd trying to leave, Lucille is the eye of that proverbial storm, wheeling around with her cell-phone pressed to her ear, trying ot hear Rebel over the scream of the alarm, looking for whatever is supposed to be happening in sixteen seconds.
«Cross the street to the sidewalk and turn right. Do not look back.»
From her vantage point outside of the theater, Lucille can see two of the agents charging into the lobby from a side employee's entrance, one of them pressing his fingers to one ear, shouting as he spins around, likely trying to find Lucille's position.
Nodding her head, the young woman runs out into the street and slams her hand down on the hood of a car that screeches to a stop in front of her seconds ago. She doesn't stop for more than a moment before she's running as fast as she can to the other side of the street. After a few car honks, she makes it safely and keeps running straight before turning right and charging ahead. The slap of her feet against the pavement loud. "Now?"
The wind whips through her hair and she doesn't look behind her, she does allow herself a small smile. She might make it away from this yet.. hopefully.
A moment later after Lucille crosses the street, there's a screech of tires and an explosion of glass accompanied by a crunch of metal and plastic. When the traffic lights beyond the theater begin to malfunction, cars skid through the lights as they turn green in all four directions. Collisions pile up, other cars grind to a halt, horns wail and screams carry out onto the street. Across the now congested road, the agents in pursuit of Lucille Ryans spot her dashing across the street, blocked by rows of traffic.
Shouting and pointing in her direction, they take off on foot, trying to cross the congested lanes filled with cars and irate drivers shouting in French at one another. «Turn right, follow the street to the intersection, then enter the department store on the corner.»
A drizzling rain begins to fall from the sky, followed by a distant rumble of thunder echoing thorugh the clouds.
She's human, and so looks back for a second and gapes. "You've got to be shitting me." She says softly and then she's shaking her head, hair becoming matted down to her forehead as she continues to run, making sure that she doesn't slip as the ground begins to get wet.
She makes the next turn and skids to a stop as an old woman blocks her path. She quickly runs around the roman and then she's ducking into the department store. "They're gonna find me soon huh.. any bright ideas?" Lucille's breathing is heavy and she leans against the wall for a moment, knowing she looks crazy with makeup running down her face and wet.
Is this what daddy and Delia have been dealing with back at home? Are they alright? Is she going to be alright? She grits her teeth and forces the thoughts of doubt out of her head. No time for that, only time to survive right about now.
Rebel has no response as Lucille charges down the sidewalk barefoot, feet getting wet as the rain slicks concrete. Agents weaving through traffic far behind her try to catch up, but their distance is making it difficult to keep an eye on her position in the busy streets of Paris. By the time Lucille reaches the end of the street she's turning sharply toards the glass dours of a fashion boutique that Rebel had indicated, barging in with a slam of her body ont he doors, bare feet tracking watery footprints on a tile floor.
The clerk behind the counter looks up to Lucille with surprise at her entrance, then begins aggrivatedly shouting at her as she trods around barefoot through his store. «There is a door back past the clothing that reads 'Exit'. Go out that door and head up to the roof on the stairwell.»
The distinctive alternating whine of European police cars scream past the store, even as the clerk is waving one hand frantically at Lucille, ordering her to leave his shop. «They are coming. Hurry.»
Someone is shining down on Lucille and she nods her head grimly as she glares at the shop owner and quickly runs towards the back, but not before yanking a pair of black boots that were on display. Flat ones, these will help. Before the shop owner can stop her, she yells out, "Sorry!" And then she's tugging the boots on as she slams through the door marked exit and she leans against the railing of the stairs as she tugs on the other boot, clenching her teeth around her phone as she does so. "Much better." She says to herself and then she's launching herself up two or three stairs at a time. Turning and going up the next landing.
Her calves burning and her thighs twitching but she can't stop. She has to keep going or she just might die. As she runs up the stairs, she doesn't hear anyone there and she sighs in temporary relief. After another set of stairs, the model bursts onto the roof and puts her hands on her knees. "Okay Rebel, now what do I to get off the fucking roof?" she's upset, but not at Rebel. Just at the whole damn situation.
Rain is now beating down on Lucille on the rooftop, an autumn downpour darkening her clothing and weighing down her long hair into thick coils that slither down her back. There's a burp of static over the phone she's carrying, a crackle of distortion, then a soft beep. When she pulls the phone away to look at the touch screen, droplets of water beading on the surface, there is a notification that reads signal lost across the front, with the antenna symbol showing a red circle with a line through it.
There is nowhere to go up here on the roof. The flat expansive of open concrete has one air-conditioning exhaust, too small to hide behind. There's no other rooftop even close to jumping distance without the threat of breaking her neck in the intervening fall. She has quite literally been backed into a corner, and now the signal to her phone seems to have been somehow terminated.
A moment later, there is a clap of thunder, not in the skies, but on the rooftop, followed by an explosive discharge of electricity that crackles through the water in a bursting bubble of lightning. Standing in the middle of the eruption of electricity, Lucas Eldridge narrows his eyes as he feels rain pelting his face and shoulders, steam rising up off of his body as he adjusts his necktie.
"Nowhere else to go, Miss Ryans." In Eldridge's hand, a small black remote-control sized device flickers with a flashing red light. "This isn't the first time we've had to deal with Rebel," he explains, walking forward with a splash of patent leather shoes on the damp concrete. "You should come with me, Lucille. Don't make this any harder on yourself than it has to be, your father wouldn't want to find out you had an accident out here in Paris. He wouldn't want to lose one of his darling girls."
As the rain falls harder, Lucille glares through the drops of water at the agent. Her phone is placed into a pocket in her shirt and she tilts her head at the man hair flattened to her head. "What do you want?" She yells out at him, standing her ground. She doesn't inch forward or backwards. Instead she looks from the corners of her eyes, there has to be something that she can do!
"Just leave us alone and don't you fucking dare threaten my family." She says, fists balled up. Visibly very upset.
"I want you, Lucille. I need you to come back to the states with me," Lucas explains as he continues to walk forward, lifting up a hand out to the blonde. "Your father is in a very dangerous position right now, and I think that if you're with me it would help him come to his senses and turn himself in." Turn himself in?
"Your father's done something terrible, made a very large mistake, and now he's wanted by the United States Government. I'm a federal agent, Miss Ryans," which means he has absolutely zero authority here in Paris to be operating the way he is. "I just want to bring you home, get you safe, and then maybe you can see your sister?" One of Lucas' brows raise slowly. "Delia, isn't it? We've already got her in custody, so there's no reason for you to run. She's safe, Lucille, and you can be too if you just come with me. Don't ruin your life like this."
There's a furrow of Lucas' brows, "Don't throw away everything you have, and make the same mistakes your father has." Once more he offers out his hand, dangerously close to the young woman now. "Come on…"
The young model looks at Lucas.. and she glares hard. All the options run through her head. She can't.. she can't let him take her. She has more chance of saving Delia out of custody then in custody. As her grey eyes study the man, an eyebrow raises and she tenses up.
"Bullshit." She says softly and then takes the man's hand. But that's not before she pulls his body towards hers so that she can knee him in the stomach. At the same time, she's trying to reach for his taser. Something that might get him down for long enough that she can get away. The blood pounds in Lucille's head. If she fails at this, then it's all over.
When Lucille grasps at Eldridge's hand and yanks him forward, the agent begins to crackle with electricity, clearly intending on taking her with him now that she's within the safe zone of his teleportation ability. But the moment that he knee comes up, he's slamming his free hand down on her thigh to keep the hit from connecting, but in that fever-pitched moment of panic, Lucas Eldridge lets out a scream of shock from something that Lucille can't quite understand.
Her palm becomes feverishly warm to the touch, not hot enough to be painful at all. However she can see Eldridge's veins bulge at his neck, at his temples, his eyes go bloodshot and his jaws open in a howl of tension and pain as his fingers clamp down on her hand. Muscles twitch, Eldridge tenses up and falls forward on top of Lucille, dropping the remote to the rooftop with a clatter and a clack.
The agent's weight and shifting posture sends Lucille crashing down onto her rear and then flat on her back. Choking, Eldridge's eyes shut and mouth opens, a growl of pain causing him to convulse as he lays there atop Lucille, going into what looks like some kind of shock.
Lucille Ryans has experienced some weird stuff in her life but this honey, this takes the cake. Lu's eye grow wide and her mouth opens but nothing comes out. She can't believe this.. what is happening.. is he having a heart attack? Why.. why is her hand so warm?
That's when she screams but she can't seem to stop whatever is happening.. she can't make her hand move. She tries her best to get Lucas off of her by pushing him with her other hand on his face. Trying to back away, tears run down her face as she stares up at the agent in shock.
Rainwater helps slick Lucille's hand around Lucas' vice-grip, and the longer their skin remains in contact, the more paralyzed Lucas looks. His skin has flushed red, eyes blulge, tongue swells, it's as if he's having a severe allergic reaction to something. As she struggles beneath his weight, trying to wriggle out from beneath the agent, Lucille can feel a throbbing pulse in the back of her head that is hastening, feel a subtle tingling sensation in her fingertips, and when she finally pulls away from Eldridge, when her fingers finally slip free of his hand, she notices the flushed coloration of his skin immediately beginning to return to normal.
Choking and coughing, Lucas rolls onto his stomach, trying to get to his knees, but can't lift his forehead up from the rainy concrete. A wet, wheezing cough slipping past his lips along with a wavering string of mucus running from his nose.
In her adrenaline-fueled panic, Lucille notices that throbbing sensation in her head is gone the moment her hand leaves Lucas'. But more importantly, she can see the signal jammer he dropped sitting a few feet away in the rain.
Breathing heavy, Luc scrambles to her feet and rushes towards the jamming device. Kicking the man on the ground, twice hard in the stomach. "Stay down fucker." She says as she blinks wildly and slides across the roof, grabbing the jammer and effectively switching it off. She then throws it off the roof and grabs her phone. Making her way towards the stairs, going around Eldridge.
"Rebel! What do I do next? Hello!?" she screams into the phone, her eyes on Eldridge as she backs away. The only place she knows that she can go is down the stairs. She looks down at her hand for a moment as it dawns on her that she caused his pain.. she did it. "Holy shit.." she says softly in shock.
«Run.»
When that is emphasized by Rebel over the phone, the door to the stairwell bursts open and the other two agents are scrambling out into view, one lifting his taser gun up and the other reaching inside of his jacket. They bolt halt when they see Eldridge laying on his side, curled up in the fetal position. But in Lucille's ear Rebel's voice twitters noisily.
«Run in the opposite direction of the stairwell and jump, there is a fire escape access one floor down, if you time the jump right you will land on it and be able to transfer into the tenement building.»
What?
«Hurry.»
As Rebel gives that last order, Lucille can hear the chopping rotors of a helicopter moving through the heavy rain, but something doesn't sound right. The engine is whining, there's a noisy shrieking of an alert over the sounds of the engine. It also sounds like it's rapidly getting closer.
You've got to be kidding.
Lucille nods her head and shoves the phone in her pocket and then she's turning and running hard to the other side of the rooftop. As she gets right to the edge, she jumps and falls. As she begins to fall short of where she was suppose to land, her arms come up and she grips the rail hard with a noisy clang!.
Allowing herself a moment to breathe, she then puts into practice old gymnastics training. Closing her eyes, she swings one leg up and pulls her whole body over the rail so that she can fall over onto the landing of the fire escape. Looking at the window, she positions herself so her feet are against the window and she slams her booted feet into them. Kicking the shards aside, she ducks into the building. Grabbing her phone out of her pocket and making her way towards the door.
"Now?" she asks as she opens the door and comes to the hallway. Her grey eyes scan the hallway and see nobody there. Safe.. for a moment.
Glass shattered and window broken, Lucille is climbing in to a second story apartment, just in time to hear the descending rotor of a helicopter descending towards the building she'd just escaped. Through the window of the empty apartment, Lucille can see a news helicopter falling out of the sky with a stalling engine. There's a blast of electricity on the rooftop mere seconds before the helicopter impacts, creating a tremendous explosion that rattles the walls of the adjacent building, sending a ball of fire belching up into the rainy sky.
The phone in Lucille's hand vibrates, followed by Rebel's voice echoing inside the empty and unrented apartment. «I have bought you some time. Descend to the street, there will be a taxi waiting for you. Tell the driver to take you to a convenience store.»
Lucille blinks at the destruction being wrought around her. Just shaking her head as she runs down the hall and descends down the stairs. Her booted feet making loud noises as she comes to the first floor and sees the taxi through the doors leading out of the building. "I hope.. I hope you didn't kill.." she knows that Rebel did though.. no way someone could survive that. No way.
"Thank you." Is all she says as she jogs out of the building and slides into the cab as she opens the door. "Take me to a convenience store." She says to the driver and lays her head against the window, looking up towards the sky. Not believing what had just happened.. not believing what she had just experienced.
"Is my father safe? Whatever happened to that girl.. from the bus crash?" she asks absently into the phone. She.. isn't really there at the moment.
The cabbie does not hear Lucille at all.
He might not even be aware she's in the cab, because he — and everyone else on the street — is staring up at the ball of fire exploding from the top of the building he's parked next to. Refuse and rubble falls down onto the street, fiery wreckage of the helicopter crashing down onto the road. It's only after he heard Lucille trying to talk to Rebel that he meets her stare in the mirror, then whips around with his eyes wide.
"«I am not going anywhere!»" he shouts in French, staring back at her as he points up to the window, "«Did you not see the explosion! I—// I cannot!//»" But then, there is a response from Rebel crackling over the phone.
«Make him drive.»
Without Rebel having to say another word, she leans forward and takes the driver's shirt in her hand. "Look.. I've had a really fucked up day. My career is over and my family is in trouble./" She growls out at the man. "So if you don't put this fucking car into gear and drive so help me, I will slam your head into this steering wheel and then shove my boot up your ass, okay?" she asks with a tilt of her head, still not letting go of the guy's collar. Careful not to touch his skin.. she doesn't want a repeat of what happened on the roof. Not at the moment anyway.
When the driver doesn't move, she prepares to move her hand to his head to in fact slam his face into the steering wheel. Today just isn't Lucille's day.
Shrieking once, the cab driver lifts both of his hands, eyes wide as his head dips down, shoulders hunched and fingers trembling. Sucking in a sharp breath, the cab driver glances briefly over his shoulder to Lucille, then reaches down to the steering column and puts the vehicle in drive. He speaks enough English to realize what it is she's threatening, and all cab drivers are trained to follow orders if their cab is hijacked, and report it after the fact for their own safety.
Swallowing nervously, the cab driver puts both hands on the steering wheels and begins to drive, swerving slowly around parked traffic and the flaming wreckage of the helicopter, even as the sirens of French police cars wail in the distance. Over the phone, Lucille receives her next instructions, ones that will take her far away from the realm of comfort, and closer to the edge of a world her father never wanted her to become a part of.
«Purchase hair dye at the convenience store, a pair of scissors, and a bag. Trim your hair in the bathroom, take the dye in the bag with you and proceed to hail another cab to head for the airport.»
«Tickets will be waiting for you.»
Casablanca, Morocco
Present Day
Staring down at Lucille, Noah Bennet offers the young brunette a fond smile, tilting his head enough to allow his eyes to be seen behind the lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses. The last time someone said they were a friend of her father's, there was a terrible lie being uttered. This time, however, Lucille Ryans has a lie-detector of her own.
Vibrating on the bench beside her, a text message chirps on the front of the phone.
he is the way home. — REBEL
And home is a long, long way away.
The much changed woman looks up at Bennet and raises an eyebrow ready to mouth off.. or defend herself before the phone vibrates and she sees the text message. Lucille closes her eyes and if Bennet was staring hard enough.. he might see a tear well up as she opens her eyes, but she swiftly places a pair of sunglasses on her face.
Standing, she looks behind her. The last time she'll ever do that and she takes Bennet's hand. "Alrighty then, let's get home." And they're off.
To a new start in a old place.