Drive

[Ella Drake]

Light from the setting sun peeked into the room through the closed blinds. A gentle moan slipped through parted lips as Ella slowly began to regain consciousness. The young woman rolled to her side, finally moving from the posed position she had been in for the last several hours. Arms reached up and wrapped around the pillow that had been under her head, and pulled it down into a hug. Stirring in the remnants of her chemically induced sleep Ella became slightly more aware of her surroundings.

The closer Ella came to being awake, the more her head began to pound preventing her from falling back into the heavy sleep she had been forced into. Eyelids were still to heavy to obey the brunette’s internal commands for them to open. Hand slowly raised digits pressing gently against her temple before brushing dark strands away from her face. Rolling herself back onto her back Ella’s eyes opened only the slightest revealing only a darkening haze.

“Jase?” her voice came out in a barely audible rasp. Palms pressed over her eyes as she scrubbed the sleep away from them. Green orbs blinked in rapid succession while Ella adjusted to being awake. Using her elbows she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, a decision she regretted almost instantly. The room began to spin ever so slightly and her temples throbbed with growing pain. Laying back down Ella’s groggy mind began taking in the room finally coming to the realization that she was not at home in her own bed, nor was she in Jason’s apartment. Despite the unyielding pain of her waking headache Ella pulled herself into an upright position.

Ella felt as if she had been sucked into some crappy horror flick, where the chick woke up in a strange place only to realize someone had hacked off her legs or stolen her kidneys. Eyes scanned the room moving over the faded wallpaper which screamed ‘Welcome to 1975' and continued to take note of the cheesy dilapidated-retro decor. She had absolutely no recollection of arriving in the motel room, for a moment she considered the possibility that she may of gone on a bender and perhaps she would of believed it if it weren’t for the knot behind her ear and the unfamiliar taste in her mouth. Green orbs rested on the twin bed that sat parallel to the one she had been laying on, it was undisturbed save for the suit case resting a top it.

Cautiously swinging her legs over the side of the bed she pressed her feet flat on the floor. Gazing down and her sneaker clad feet Ella came to the realization that she was wearing the same clothing she put on most mornings she went to the gym. Memory began coming back to in a rush. That morning she had gone to the same coffee shop she always did on the mornings she went to the gym, and ordered the same thing she did every time. She recalled how her morning coffee had a funny taste to it, but she had drank it anyway. Ella could remember everything up until she arrived at the gym then nothing until she awoke minutes earlier.

The brunette wrapped her arms around herself in a hug as she pushed herself to her feet. The world continued to spin and her head pounded like a war drum, but Ella was far to stubborn to let those minor details stop her from trying to Nancy Drew herself out of the situation she had come to find herself in. Moving slowly around the room she reached over to a lamp on one of the side tables and flicked on a lamp. Groaning at the sudden flood of light, Ella almost did not hear the sound of voices outside the door. Eyes widened in fear and she quickly began searching for something to protect herself with. Snatching the phone book she slid to the other side of the door, wielding the thick book ready to hit whoever it was coming into the small room in hopes she could get away.

Readying herself, Ella’s heartbeat sounded like thunder in her ears and the sound of the key working the lock was no better. Time seemed to slow down each second feeling like an eternity. The door slowly began to open, and Ella swung the heavy book while clutching it with both hands. The swing of it backed with all the might the groggy woman could muster, Ella managed to hit the intruder square in the nose.

[Jason Williams]

Jason slammed his palm down on to the buzzing alarm clock. He groaned it was nine in the morning and he really didn't want to be getting up. But he needed to sitting up in his bed he felt the side of his head hair pushed down messed. Looking around he noticed Ella hadn't stopped by she pretty much did after her morning run. He shrugged it off going to take his shower.

Stepping into the kitchen after his shower he pulled out his cell phone."Ella where are you?" he put it away thinking maybe she needed time. Women and there odd problems. He grabbed his bag and headed off for the day he had classes to go to.

The day went by slow till his class day was over. it was time for his part time job on campus at the library it was boring but Ella was the reason he took it. When he got there though he was shocked to see she wasn't there. Pulling for his phone again he left her another message. Things were now getting odd Ella never missed a day of work and Jason was getting worried. Ditching his shift he hurried over to her place using the spare key she had given him.

The place was empty he sighed he didn't know where she was and didn't know what to do. Hearing a noise all to Familiar he walked toward her bedroom it was her cell phone laying on a large yellowish envelope. Picking it up it said new text message. Curious as ever he opened it up nothing more but directions to some place he had never heard before.

When he looked down at the envelope big black letters were written on it "Open Me " Carefully digits picked the envelope up and opened pulling out a note that explained not to call the cops. Looking further in he pulled out two pairs of keys. One looking like it belonged to a motel room to be exact room number nine, and the other looking like Ella's car keys. her car was stolen a few nights ago what was all this. He peaked inside to see something else pulling it out was a one way plane ticket. Scanning it over he noticed the plane went to the same town as the directions. It was like some game he wondered if Ella would be where the ticket was going. He just hoped she was safe or whoever did this would get whats coming to them.

The next hours were a blur to Jason he couldn't stop thinking the whole plane ride over. He was so confused as to what was going on why were him and Ella pulled into this they were two normal people.

When the plane landed it was in short distance where the directions told him to go.Landing him at some cheesy looking motel. Hand dug deep into his pocket as he pulled out the key to the hotel room number nine. Walking slowly he put it in and started to turn it slowly. As he walked in to the room he felt a forceful hit to his nose.

He had been struck by a phone book. Stumbling back he slid down against the wall holding his nose. Just looking at Ella in a defensive pose "Nice to see you to."

[Ella Drake]

The brunette dropped the phonebook and hands raised covering her mouth and her horrified expression.“Jason Oh my god I’m so sorry. I thought you were... Are you all right?” Reaching out she flung her arms around the neck of her beau. Her anxiety lessened as she held onto Jason, having him there seemed to make her feeling of sheer dread dissipate. Green orbs shut tight before she released him from the tight hold before rocking back onto her heals. Looking up at him she hoped that he would be able to tell her what the hell happened that lead to her waking up in a strange motel room.

Taking a step back her hands clasped around his for arms. Eyes locked with his and she studied his face. It didn’t look as if she had hit him hard enough to break his nose, but the watering in his eyes showed it had at least been hard enough for him to really feel it. “What’s going on? One minute I’m on my way to the gym, next thing I know I’m waking up here feeling like I got hit by a truck.”

She listened to her boyfriend and his reply and it only confused her further. “Miami. You’re screwing with me right?” Ella let go of him and ran a hand through her hair before begging to pace. Teeth ran across her lower lip. He may as well of just told her that she had been abducted by aliens, because that was how much sense all of this was making to her. The more Jason told her about what he had found at her apartment and how he had gotten there the harder it seemed to get for her to breath. Tucking molasses strands behind her ears she sat down on the end of the bed. “...and my car keys?”

Before he could speak again the motel phone rang. Silence fell like a led balloon and the air may as well of been sucked out of the room. Orbs wandered to the phone and all seemed to happen in slow motion making the time between rings feel like an eternity. Sitting there, her eyes stayed on the ringing phone. The silence between rings was deafening, so much so that a single heartbeat sounded like thunder in her ears. Voice far calmer than it should of been she simply said. “Don’t answer that.”

[Alex Tully]

The overgrown garden was a virtual Technicolor kaleidoscope of colors. His hand reached out slowly, pushing the bent branches of the wall ivy out of his path as he ducked into the walled in garden. Spring was long within her prime, awakening the winter dormant plants into full bloom. With a wrinkle of his forehead, Alex glanced to the left and right, clearly looking for something.

He was wearing a white button-down oxford shirt, his black tie loosened, top button undone. Moving to the next archway, the sleeve of his suit jacket caught on the thorns of a budding rose bush, and as he whipped his arm to free it, the branch slashed across the line of his cheekbone. Wincing, he brought his hand to the wound, tapping the open flesh, staining the pads of his fingers with blood. The hurt was a shallow afterthought, but it didn't lessen the sting.

"Ah there you are Mr. Tully," a distinctive Yorkshire accent met his ears. Turning his head, of sandy locks, Alex's cornflower blue eyes fixed onto the aged stare of the elder gentleman who was sitting at a wrought iron table. "I trust you didn't have trouble finding the estate?"
"No Sir. Everything was pretty straightforward."
Alex walked to meet him, digits fishing in the pocket of his slacks, keys jangling into the palm of his hand. "1970 Ford Mustang Mach 1, delivered ahead of schedule. Are we done now?"
"Indeed. My son will be quite pleased to know you've arrived on time. I trust there were no complications?"
"No Sir."
"Excellent."

The well distinguished man gestured to the other side of the table where a briefcase sat. Alex moved in to take his payment and then just as his hand reached out, he is ears caught the click of a gun slide. He had time enough to turn before the muzzle flashed the blast rang in his ears, and the bullet tore into his chest.

--

He awoke with a start, covered in sweat on the sofa in his home in Hastings, Nebraska. Ever since his wife went missing, his dreams were plagued with both new and old demons. The ring of a cellular phone was what had awakened him, but the funny part was, Alex didn't own a cellular phone.

[Dante Davis]

It was all calculated down to the second and organized in ways even he never thought possible. Everything from vehicular speeds, distance, temperament, and possible traffic and weather conditions had all been pre-calculated for each of the selected players in hopes that they would all make it on time. Although he had nothing to do with the previous stages he had to know all of those things, for Dante Davis was to be the one representing his employers throughout the duration of the contest. Aging man looked at his reflection in the window and adjusted his gold tie. Glancing down at his watch he noted that it was almost time to place the next call. Looking out at Key West which made for the backdrop of that days events smile crossed his face. Yes, today was most certainly a good day for a race.

Nodding with contentment he returned to the table where his yellow legal pad, lap top, and designated race phone sat almost too neatly. Organized and orderly, as always it helped Mr. Davis keep his part in all of this running smoothly. Taking his seat he looked up the next file and next number he was to call on the computer. Dialing the number he looked down at his pre-written speech and waited for the man on the other end to pick up. Picking up his pen and placing it to the paper waiting for an answer on the other end. From the moment the man on the other end spoke he Mr. Davis began taking notes. “Mr. Tully, you’re a rather patient man. Most men would of opened that package on site.” Alex Tully - Angry but seemingly steady at the same time. Inquires about wife.He cut the man off and began the pitch he had already used dozens of times in the last day and a half.

“Listen closely. I'm about to make you an offer, one that could change your life, but you must follow instructions to the letter or risk losing this opportunity. You'll not have time to consider it; you will not have to think-- only to act, for action now is what is required. In the next 15 minutes, you must be in your car and on the road. You will drive to Key West, Florida. It is essential that you drive, you may not fly, you may not take a train, you must arrive in a vehicle. You're going to the Wayfarer Hotel, proceed directly to the Ponce de Leon Ballroom, only there will you find the answers you seek. The moment of decision is upon you.”

Dante paused for a moment. “Did you get all of that Mr. Tully?” after the gruff and immediate response Mr. Davis hung up the phone. Placing it back on the table he went onto the next file, glancing momentarily at the count down clock he had been provided with.

---

“...did you get all that Mr. Williams?” Hesitated response on the other end of the line marked the last call he had to make until after the orientation. Hanging up he packed up what had been spread out neatly on the table and headed down to the Ponce de Leon Ballroom.

Nodding to the handful of others who worked for the proprietors of the competition. He made his way to the podium that had been set up for him. Watching the others from the corner of his eye as he set out his things once more in preparation. While the others took their places, they waited for the first to arrive. This wait was not one that was long lived. Silence of the room was broken as the first of the selected players arrive.

“...because I’m your brother and I can barely understand you!” One brother said to the other as they entered. They stopped just inside the doors and looked around. The shorter of the two looked at him and asked. “Hey is this the Punce-dillyon Ballroom right?” Dante smiled. “Why yes Mr. Cody it is.” “Are we late or something?” Mr Davis glanced at the security camera and gave only the slightest of nodded to his co-worker who was recording the entire thing. “No, in fact you are the first to arrive...” This was something he had not expected, of all the contestants he thought for sure the Cody brothers would of been some of the last, of this he made a note. “Just take a seat, any time now the others will arrive and we can begin.”

[Alex Tully]

Hastings, Nebraska
“Mr. Tully, you’re a rather patient man. Most men would've opened that package on sight.”

A cynical retort was on the cusp of blurting from his lips, but he kept his cool. Whoever this guy was, he knew more than he was letting on. Logic told Tully this was the guy that had his wife and that instructions for the ransom were soon to follow. Jaw tightened as the voice on the other end spoke instructions. He didn't recognize the man on the other end, but that didn't mean a thing. The old life he'd thought was dead and buried knew men like this one very well. Alex just prayed this was something else; that his missing wife had no connection whatsoever with the life he'd left behind.

But deep inside Tully knew better.

"… The moment of decision is upon you.”
It was all her needed to know. 3 minutes later his form was busting out the front door to his house. He didn't bother to lock up, feed the fish, and arrange for the neighbor boy to take in the recycling bins; his goal was simple, get to Key West.

--
Key West, Florida
1,918 miles and 31 hours later, a very tired, red-eyed Alex Tully was pulling his overheated pickup into the parking lot of the Wayfarer Hotel. Fists clenched at his sides he stalked inside the building, eyes scanning the brass plaques above the twin French doors to the banquet halls, looking for the Ponce de Leon Ballroom. Shoulder bumped hard into a passing woman, his eyes meeting with hers briefly as he apologized and then continued. The room was emptying, Tully's mouth was agape as he watched in confusion, but pushed inside regardless.
"Mr. Tully! You're late. Not a very good way to start."
"Late for what - what is this?" He stammered, approaching the wormy fellow at the folding table, who was closing a briefcase.

[Jason Williams]

Jason ignored her hand reaching for the phone. Something told him everything would be more clearer if he picked up. “Listen closely. I'm about to make you an offer, one that could change your life, but you must follow instructions to the letter or risk losing this opportunity. You'll not have time to consider it; you will not have to think-- only to act, for action now is what is required. In the next 15 minutes, you must be in your car and on the road. You will drive to Key West, Florida. It is essential that you drive, you may not fly, you may not take a train, you must arrive in a vehicle. You're going to the Wayfarer Hotel, proceed directly to the Ponce de Leon Ballroom, only there will you find the answers you seek. The moment of decision is upon you.”

Jason grew silent before the next words make him speak up again. “...did you get all that Mr. Williams?” Jason cleared his throat "Yes I got it all." the person on the other end hung up Jason looked at Ella who was giving him the look of death for picking up the phone. "Hey come on now you hit me with a phone book. I can pick up the phone." He smiled pulling out the car keys."I just don’t know where your car is." He let out a small laugh. Ella grabbed her keys before walking out of the room. He followed her out and she pointed. "Well I did not see it." her car was sitting there.

The next fifteen minutes were a rush to get to the car and get going. Mostly before getting into the car Jason complained that he wanted to drive but he knew Ella would just laugh at him. He just shook his head and got into the passenger side. The drive wasn’t really that bad well not bad at all. Jason held Ella's hand he hated being a way for her that long. She kept him in check he liked to do stupid things and she was the voice of a reason. "So I am enjoying this quiet time what do you think this is all about?"

Ella glanced at Jason, "I really don't know. We end up in some random motel in Florida and my previously missing car is just sitting out front. Then we get a phone call from some guy telling us to go to Key West. Whatever it is," Jason smiled when she squeezed his hand "someone went to a lot of trouble to get us here."

When they got there they found there way right to the ball room and took seats. the meeting went on for what seemed a lifetime Jason had short attention span. The meeting ended and everyone was leaving, Jason was still kind of confused as to why he and Ella had been chosen. Walking with Ella he watched her. "This is all a bit nuts don’t you think? I mean besides all the money...we could do things." Jason watched as Ella seemed to be spaced out. He wished he could be inside her head maybe it would help him help her out.

"Hey how about I drive for a little. You know you have had a long couple days." he smiled at her. Ella handed over the keys as she ranted on how she wanted to give Mr. Davis a piece of her mind and hit him with a phone book. Jason just laughed, that was his girl. Getting in he grasped the steering wheel. He loved Ella’s car. He loved the speed and all of the other perks of driving a muscle car . It just felt right when he got behind the wheel. Taking off kind of fast he sped past the people. They didn’t have their first assignment yet, but he was ready."Lets do this." He smirked at her all cocky.

[Brennan Donovan]

He hadn’t been in the diner long, not more then three minutes before an overly cheery young waitress came prancing along to take his order. He gave her a friendly smile and settled with just a burger and fries along side a chilled coke. She’d offered a little more then small talk but that wasn’t something Donovan was particularly interested in at the moment. Besides more often then not it was his accent that attracted the attention and as flattering as that was, if became annoying at times. Glance slipped out the large diner window to the left of him watching the taxi cabs drive down E 7th street. Thumb brushed against bottom lip as he remained content just watching the New York outside as other patron’s music choices played from the jukebox in the corner.

Attention was brought back to the inner workings of the diner as the waitress brought his plate over to him. Giving her a nod and a smile Brennan reached over for the ketchup. Lifting the bun he squirted some on his burger and on the side of his plate. With the snap of the ketchup lid corner of eyes caught the figure climbing in the booth opposite to him. Cerulean hued irises looked up towards the man donned in business attire. “I t’ink you ‘ave the wrong booth.” Taking a bite of fries Donovan reached over for his soda letting the straw fall against his lips. “No, I have the right one Mr. Donovan.” The man before him smiled with the name just as the waitress returned, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize he was waiting on a friend. Can I get you something?” Brennan glared over at the unknown man, “Nah, he’ll be leavin’ soon.” “He’s right but if I could get a coke miss.” She nodded and headed back behind the counter to retrieve the man’s drink request.

Brennan Donovan wasn’t a man to be shaken by random strangers seated within his booth so he continued to eat his meal. “I have a proposition for you Brennan… thank you.” Taking his own drink the man took a sip before continuing on. “I work for what you might call a business man and he’s put together this sorta… cross country race. He’d like you to be one of the contestants. Cash prize at the end and I hear you’re a man who dealt with money and took a liking to it.” Brennan gave a slight laugh to the man, “Everyone takes a likin’ to money. Greed is what drives humans to be better but I’m not interested in a rich man’s game.” The man before him pulled up his briefcase unclasping it he retrieved a file. “I apologize, when I said he’d like you to be one of the contestants I didn’t mean you had an option Mr. Donovan.” Slipping a manila folder over to the Irish born man fingers opened it slightly as eyes looked over the contents for a moment before giving a side grin. “Dis supposed to scare me? You ‘ave my file. Takes more den knowin’ a name an a few details ‘bout my past to do that. So, like I said before… tell your boss I’m not interested in his fantasy of makin’ people do what he wants.”

“He figured you’d say that.” “Did he now? Then why are you still ‘ere?” “My boss doesn’t give in that easily Mr. Donovan. See you’re a key component, one he can’t let slip by just because you simply don’t want to partake. He’ll do what’s necessary, being ex-IRA as well as a sell out arms dealer you must know something about that.” “You’re makin’ me repeat myself… knowin’ ‘bout my past does nothin’ to tip the odds in his favor.” The man gave a creepy smile, “Depends on the parts of the past you choose to utilize.” With that the tailored suit reached into his brief case withdrawing a photo of a young boy in the arms of a woman he slipped it in front of the tempered Irishman. “That supposed to mean somethin’ to me?” “Don’t play stupid Brennan I really don’t have the patience. You know that face even if you haven’t seen her since you left Ireland. You know Johanna.” His finger tapped the beautiful raven haired woman in the photo. “What you do with her?” “Ah ah it’s just the boy. Johanna hasn’t been around for a while now. Died in a car accident a few years back along with her new hubby. And here she didn‘t call to let you know it was yours - that speaks on so many levels. I think he has your eyes.” Brennan reached over and grabbed the man by the tie pulling it tightly in a closed fist. “Now, now don’t cause a scene Brennan. He’s perfectly fine… and he’ll remain that way if you just agree to participate.” “An’ what do I ‘ave to do?” “Drive.”

---------------------

Bare frame lay entangled in the navy hued sheets of the queen sized bed nestled diagonally from the vertex where two walls met. Boxer clad lower half lifted thigh as sprawled out body twisted towards the edge. Right arm slowly slipped off the edge of the mattress as gravity set in. Brennan was fast asleep with his head nestled in the confines of the pillow. His chest lay flat against the firm mattress, his back slowly moving up and down as lungs took in soft breaths. The beam of sunlight from the window made its way slowly to his closed eyes. They twitched a little as the bright light remained hovered over them. Through the silent room auditory senses picked up on an unfamiliar ring tone muffled in the distance. Within seconds of the first ring lids shot open to reveal cobalt orbs tinted a light red from exhaustion.

Left arm pushed down against the cushion as body lifted up. Palm slipped down face rounding off at the stubble lined jaw. The stiffness of his body made distinct cracks as Brennan sat up listening to the foreign sound. Leaning over to his bedside table fingers fell along the handle to a drawer, pulling it free, sight caught a newly placed Bible setting neatly within the confines of the space. Picking it up thumb worked along the edge opening the cover with small splinters from the book’s spine. Inside was a cut out space large enough for a cellular phone, much like the one already inside. The front screen blinked with an envelope and 1 new. Flipping it open eyes were illuminated by the words against the screen. “Rest comes to those who earn it. Drive to St Patrick's Cathedral, find it’s twin.” Brow narrowed, Donovan hadn’t wanted this nor did he fancy playing games but here he was. Taking in a breath of frustration he went to put the phone down, hesitating as the device made another text message alert, “See you at the finish line Brennan.”

[Vincent Kane]

Vincent's eyes rolled rapidly beneath their lids, breathing quickening with each intake of air filling his lungs. His head giving a momentary twitch, mind wrapped up in the nightmare, it's icy tendrils gripping him to the surreal scene unfolding in the darkness. His form lay sprawled across the bed, still dressed in the clothes from the night before, having simply fallen asleep. A shrill tone filled his ears, breaking into his consciousness, pulling him from the dark. Reflexes acted quickly, a muscled arm swinging around, grabbing the cold metal from beneath his pillow. His arm extended, the other arm supporting him as he sat up, eyes darting around the room. The ringing grew louder as he sat there for a moment, trying to get his breathing and racing heart under control. He paused, brows furrowing in confusion at the noise around him, not recognizing the tune. It wasn't his cell phone.. so whom did it belong to? His head followed the noise, turning to his left, his eyes following. Blue orbs focused on a Bible that had not been there the night before. Cautiously, he moved his legs over the side of the bed, standing soundlessly as he raised the .45 before him. His back turned against the wall, keeping himself protected and still able to look before him. One hand released the other that remained clenched around the gun and slowly moved towards the Bible. His fingers grazed the worn cover, opening it to reveal a cut out, a cell phone inside. He ignored the phone for a moment, continuing it's irritating ring as his feet moved along the grotesque motel room carpet. His breathing grew quiet and steady, mind alert, his posture straight, as he continued to move toward the bathroom.

A steady hand reached out, his gun still held high in the other as his fingertips gently pushed the door open. No one. Vincent let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, before moving forward and sliding back the shower curtain only to be met with nothing once again. The ringing had stopped. His feet turned, carrying his shirtless form towards the nightstand once more. His eyes dropped down to the Bible, the gun now hanging limply in his hand as he stared at it. The screen lit up for a moment as it made a small sound, an envelope now appearing on the screen. He reached out, grasping the metallic phone in his hand before opening it, the words of the message standing out boldly on the screen. “Rest comes to those who earn it. Drive to St Patrick's Cathedral, find it’s twin... See you at the finish line Vincent Kane.” His brow twitched for a moment in slight confusion. The memory of last night drift back to him slowly as he continued to stare down at the phone in his hands. The man at the bar, dressed in a crisp new suit and not exactly blending in with the other bar patrons, looking completely out of place as if he were dressed for a high end business meeting. He knew his name and everything about him. Vincent's eyes focused on the wall before him, recalling the man's words and the odd situation.

Vincent had been sitting at a bar just outside of New York City, flying back from an unexpected trip to Africa for just a few days. A man had sat at his table, a creepy presence around him, Vincent's mood becoming wary of the unknown man. It only intensified as the unknown stranger revealed Vincent's name, pulling out a file and pushing it across the table for his eyes to gaze upon. His grip tightened around the bottle of beer, blue orbs pulling up from the papers, darkly focusing on the stranger. "Who the hell are you?", he ground out, lip curling slightly, eyes locked on the man's who had simply smiled at Kane's expression. "I have a proposition for you, Vincent Kane. You have been placed into a cross country race.. If you do not accept, there will be consequences..", the stranger nodded towards the papers in the folder, held tightly between Vincent's fingers. "There will be a reward at the end of the race, once you have reached the final destination. The finish line." Vincent gave a slight laugh. "I don't give a damn about money." The man's eyes remained upon him, unwavering. "Oh, but you do.. you care about your secrets enough to fight to keep them hidden.. This is the moment to decide, Vincent, whether you accept to participate or have your secrets revealed and quite possibly face prison." Vincent's head turned, breathing deeply, his eyes focused on the other side of the room for a moment before turning back to him, unable to stand the silence. "What do I have to do..?", he asked reluctantly. The man spoke once simple word, giving him the impression that he had simply said the single phrase many times before, "Drive." Vincent shook his head for a moment, the images of the man's face disappearing for a moment from his thoughts. Someone knew his secrets. Someone knew who he really was.

Vincent leaned forward, hands holding himself up on the bed as he closed his eyes. He took a breath before standing straight once again. It appeared that he was going for a road trip.. He placed the gun on the bed, moving towards the duffle bag that he had dropped beside the door last night. He gripped the fabric of his shirt and jeans and layed it out on the bed as he took a quick shower. He emerged, towl drying his hair and pulled the dark green fabric over his torso. After he finished getting dressed the roamed the room making sure that he wasn't leaving anything behind, pausing for a moment to remake the bed. He grabbed the .45 and the Bible from the dresser, a hand reaching out to grasp the doorknob as he left the room, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------

The engine of the Olds 442 purred in the early morning silence as the driver sat outside St. Patrick's Cathedral, eyes fixed on the building. He turned back to face out the windshield, pressing his boot clad foot down on the gas and turned into the parking lot. He opened the door, standing as he closed it behind him, the rusty hinges sqeaking slightly. Vincent squinted in the sunlight for a moment, a hand reaching up to pull down his shades as he walked into the church, only to pull them off a moment later. He silently walked foward, his duffle bag over his shoulder, the odd Bible inside. He noiselessly moved along before pausing and deciding to take a seat at a pew in the back. Vincent leaned back, forgetting for a moment that the .45 was in his waistband, not in the usual holster. He licked his lips, eyes roaming around the practically empty cathedral. His brows furrowed in thought, curious about who he was next to meet..

[Brennan Donovan]

A better part of an hour had past since he’d parked his Boulevard C50 just outside the church at unmetered parking. Denim clad limbs had walked down ever aisle of pews twice, bible in hand, searching for its matching counterpart. Well worn boots rounded the front pew where he’d left his helmet and bag for a third time. Lungs taking in even paced breaths as temper faltered to the negative results to the initial search. Cobalt hued orbs scanned over the relatively empty church skimming over the few bowed heads of people praying, he’d checked their bibles too. Taking a deep breath he flagged a passing clergyman, “Eh, ‘xcuse me, I’m lookin’ for a bible that looks ‘xactly like dis one.” The man took a few moments overlooking the book and shook his head, “It doesn’t strike me as familiar but maybe it’s in the offices.” His hand reached up ushering over another man, “Go with Father Deacon and search for them there.” Brennan returned a thankful nod to the man’s smile as lower limbs took after the man of cloth.

A few moments later the two returned from the hall that led to the two offices and other rooms holding gatherings what had been searched, all shielding no luck. “I’m sorry but I don’t think we possess the bible you are looking for.” By now Brennan’s attitude had turned from patient to annoyed with the present outcome. “You’re tellin’ me, in dis entire church you don’ ‘ave a fuckin’ bible like dis one?!” “Sir… you’re in a house of God and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t curse. But I’m sorry it seems that way, besides our bibles have crosses on them, your’s has a pair of praying hands.” The man’s finger fell along the gold etching against black leather as if Donovan’s own eyes missed it. “Maybe you have the wrong church?” Brennan grew more impatient, was this part of the rich man’s game, scavenger hunts with no items to find. “Dis is St. Patrick’s Cathedral, I’m at the right one.” “Perhaps you simple misheard the na…” Donovan cut him off, “I didn’… now if you ‘xcuse me dis seems to ‘ave been a waste of my time.” “Nothing is a waste my son, perhaps you were sent here to talk about what troubles you?” Cerulean orbs narrowed at the man, “Believe me Father. I’m not a forgiveness seekin’ man.” With that the celtic bred man turned to grab his things before heading for the doors in which he'd entered.

[Vincent Kane]

Blue orbs lift from their place, focused on the dark wood of the pew before him and turned to the voices at the front of the room. Voices that didn't sound like they belonged there, with their loudness and intensity unlike the usual tone of hushed words from others inside the church. A look of confusion passed his features, slowly turning into a small smirk of interest. He recognized that accent.. and the man it paired to. Brennan Donovan stood in the corner of the room, speaking to a clergyman.. a seemingly familiar book between his fingers. His interest only grew as he quickly realized that it must be the same Bible, it's pair, that Vincent now possessed inside his bag. His mind wandered, wondering momentarily how Donovan was also dragged into this.. and why. What was the purpose of this entire race with it's details so scarcely explained? Vincent's eyes remained on his old friend as he turned away from the man from his position in the back of the room. His fingers moved, his eyes still following Donovan as he pulled out the strange Bible from his bag. He stood as Brennan passed him, booted feet echoing in the Cathedral with every step, coming to a halt right behind the man he hadn't seen in years.

The last time he had seen Brennan Donovan was during a 'business' trip to Ireland.. it had been at least five years since he had last seen the man, yet he still looked just as Vincent remembered. "Most people would claim that this was a coincidence.. however, I don't believe in those..", he mused, eyes fixated on the back of Brennan's head, waiting for him to turn around. "Then again.. I find this an odd situation that we've found ourselves in.. so as far as I know, anything could be possible..", his lip pulled into the faintest smirk. "I assume.. that you too have this." Vincent raised the Bible in the air, still watching Brennan with focused azure eyes. The unexpected and abnormal situation in the past day had Vincent, if anything, very intrigued.. which was quite possibly justified his only reasons for going along with this. He'd known the possibility of going to prison was held above his head for a long time now.. if this was to be his last thrilling adventure then so be it, he was in quite willingly. His eyes locked onto Donovan's as he slowly turned around, Vincent's smirk easily growing into a slight grin.

[Brennan Donovan]

Deep hue of fitted denim took stride down the center passageway of the church that led straight to the huge wooden doors that stood at entrance. Tongue ran along pressed lips as he shook his head in frustration, thumb pressing harder down against the leather binding of the bible. If this was just a ploy to get Brennan fired up the man in the suit had done just that. No one liked being toyed around with especially a former arms dealer. Glance was still on the sandstone laid floor as corner sight caught a figure standing up but he pushed past it still angered by the runaround. Right hand was hooked around motorcycle helmet as pace picked up until he heard a voice emanate from behind him. “Most people would claim that this was a coincidence… however, I don’t believe in those..” Brennan paused as if questioning whether the tone was directed to him but he knew it was a slim chance to none that it wasn’t. “Then again.. I find this an odd situation that we’ve found ourselves in.. so far as I know, anything could be possible..” His own lips curved with the sudden hit in familiarity the voice brought forth, Vincent Kane.

“I assume.. That you too have this.” Brennan turned in that moment, his cerulean orbs skimming over his old friend before falling straight on the identical bible in his hands. “Aye, an I guess yours came wit a sleek new cell phone as well?” Vincent nodded, “Shiny…” The man before him seemed to pause as brow quirked upwards, “How did you get pilled into this anyway, Donovan?” Brennan’s eyes fell for a moment, why was he doing this, he didn’t owe anything to Johanna. He didn’t even know he had a child out there until the uptight suit laid it out for him but he knew that boy was his. He had his mother’s hair and a ice tint stare Brennan saw every morning when he looked in the mirror. “Some suit in a diner swayed me wit his way wit words. Guess he, or someone like him, got to you as well?” “Threat… one that I couldn’t simply ignore this time ‘round.”

“Destroyin’ your entire suit collection?” Kane’s lips pulled back into a grin, “Funny… no actually it was my ties.” Laugh escaped Donovan’s throat as he nodded toward his old friend, “Would ‘ave been my second guess...” With that the Ireland native raised his bible,
“…suppose dis means we’re partners again?” Again Vin nodded in agreement looking over his own bible. “Been a while… definitely some fun times…” The man before him trailed off as he pulled out the cellular device. “Have anything new from these people yet? I’ve got nothing… I’m assuming one of us might have a piece of this puzzle the other doesn’t..” Bottom lip pressed upwards as slight frown gave way to facial features, “Don’ know bout you but I’m no avid reader… I wouldn’ know if somethin’ was missin’ or add…” Accented voice was cut off by the Father who’d helped in his previous search of the good book’s twin. “Any luck with what you were searching for?” Vincent took this one as he nodded, “Yeah, I was just running a little late… but we’ll be out of here before communion.”

The priest nodded alongside his own laughter as his glance fell upon the two men, “Every man walks his own path. You just need to find yours.” Irish tenor replied before mind could take into account just how much that phrase meant. “Aye, road less traveled an what not.” Curve of mouth arched back as they gave way to a small smile just as the priest nodded and turned away to awaiting patrons of the church. Crisp navy encircled orbs moved across the stone that built up the church before falling upon his old partner in crime, grin widening before slowly seeding back with thought. Memory was kicking in now, he’d heard those words before from an acquaintance. Donovan remembered the last job he’d seen the man who first spoke those words and how it had gone south real fast at the end, least for Donovan’s sake. Brennan had managed to escape a bullet by finding himself in a church… a confessional. Lower limbs took off towards his hunch as Vin’s eyes caught him in time to follow close after. Ducking into one of the doors his auditory senses picked up on Vincent situating himself in the other. Hands already quickly went to work, searching for the answer, wondering if he’d connected anything of value. Through the meshed window he heard the low tone of his friend venture curiosity, “Mind telling me where this sudden need to confess your sins came from?”

Fingertips pried at wood, pressed down against seat in search of something he was sure was there. “You know the job. Sometimes it goes all fucked up on ya… workin’ wit a fellow quite like yourself Vin, jus’ possibly less fashionable.” He spoke well paced for someone moving about in a frenzy to find the lining of his past within this orchestrated game. “T’ings go south real quick and dis guy bails. His right, mind ya, but dis leaves me hanging high and dry. No escape… could mean a bullet…” Brennan laughed slightly at the remembrance of him cursing after the speeding car before hightailing it away from the gunfire. “Dere was dis church near by. I go runnin’ in… they follow. I hide in a confessional… they leave because group of blues show up ‘cause a priest called ‘um…” Trailing off in his story the Irish tenor skimmed over an envelope. Steady hands opened the envelope pulling out an ‘I wish you were here’ postcard. Turning it over he read it out loud, “Nothin’ is as easy as it looks. Everythin’ takes longer than you expect. And if anythin’ can go wrong, It will, at the worst possible moment - Abraham Lincoln” Vin chimed in from the opposite confessional, “That’s not Lincoln… isn’t that Murphy’s Law?” “Ya… so Illinois then?”

[Vincent Kane]

"They never make anything easy..", the muttered words passed through his lips, his head turned towards the screen and Donovan's sihouette. Vincent's form moved from the confessional, a glance over his shoulder towards his old friend. His boots echoed throughout the church as they made their way toward the doors, slipping out into the sunlight. His eyes moved to slits at the sudden burst of light from the sun. A hand reached up, pulling gently on the frames of his sunglasses. Blue orbs focused on his friend once more, still not too sure what to believe of the situation.. Vincent stood there for a moment, a hand slipping into the pocket of his suit jacket. Pressing the cigarette to his lips, he lit it, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Thought you quit." His head turned, a hand running through his short, dark hair. "Yeah well.. you know. Times like these and all that", he gave a shrug, "Been a while since something like this has happened. Things have been quiet for me lately." Lips pressed together, holding the cigarette as his hand reached out as he asked for his friend's keys. He ignored the questioning look as his fingers wrapped around the metal, moving towards the donation box just beside the doors and dropping them in, receiving a loud metal clank. Vincent's eyes pulled back toward Donovan. "No need for them now..", he began, a hand slipping into the soft fabric of his suit jacket.

His fingers wrapped around the cold metal of his .45, pulling it out and against his side, concealing it from other people if they were to walk by. "Sorry man.. but how am I supposed to know your not involved? What, you just show up here after all these years?", he shook his head, thoughts racing through his mind. Vincent wondered if he was only overreacting.. perhaps it was only his paranoia. His index finger hovered over the trigger, eyes focused on Donovan's own furious ones. "I've layed low for all these years and suddenly, I'm being threatened and you show up out of nowhere.. and I've got the feeling that at some point along this 'game', the shit is gonna hit the fan." Vincent's other hand reached up, throwing the cigarette from his lips onto the floor. He couldn't help but to feel as though he were being set up. Why now? Why after all this time he was suddenly being dragged into this. People were after him.. it wasn't anything new, but if Donovan was involved, he'd bring the man down along with him. He was careful, after all these years, with who he trusted.. and now, he wasn't so sure about half the people he knew..

[Brennan Donovan]

Postcard donning the words “Wish You Were Here” tapped nervously against opposite hand as taller stature followed suit with the man before him. Mind was already racing towards the numerous possibilities that lay in store in this so called game. What exactly did ‘game’ mean in this instance and how dangerous was it going to be when the dealer already knew so much about past discrepancies. Jaw line tightened once again as balanced step hurried its pace in order to keep up with Vincent’s own. Deep raven pupils dilated as soon as well worn boots stepped outside the church and into the sun. Wincing with sudden reaction until sight adjusted to the brightness. The two men stood outside the church in what would seem a more then awkward atmosphere of old times digging up into the present tense. Brennan wasn’t sure what one said or did in a situation where old acquaintances ran into each other unexpectedly, even worse both being arms dealers.

Taking notice to Kane’s actions Irish bred man caught sight of him reaching for cigarettes which opted towards brow arching in remembrance, “Thought you quit?” Gleam of sun caught aviator sunglasses as Vincent looked backed at Brennan. “Yeah well… you know. Times like these and all that. Been a while since something like this has happened. Things have been quiet for me lately.” Brennan nodded in agreement with the words Vin spoke partly knowing it rang true with himself. Donovan hadn’t necessarily been off the radar, in a sense, but he hadn’t run any guns or really anything of that nature for quite some time. It wasn’t permanent, even though the man longed it to be, because Brennan knew that retirement in his line of business meant a nice plot six feet under.

Debating within his head as to whether or not light up a cigarette of his own Donovan decided against it. Auditory senses picked up on Vin calling for his keys and obliging his friend without really thinking much of it hand dug into denim pocket. Retrieving keys only to hand them over with slight confusion drawn across his face. Looking away momentarily, Brennan found himself quickly looking back as Vincent moved in front of him towards the donation box just outside the cathedral’s doors, into which he shoved the motorcycle keys within. “No need for them now.” Brennan barely heard those words as he stepped forward, shoulder slamming into Kane’s own as he moved toward the box. Fingers slipped into the slit in which shimmering silver had so easily slipped into. Frustration took over even paced breaths as hands ran along the wood in hopes of finding someway to open it. Thumb pressed along the lock in place before slamming palm against it in anger. “What the fuck Vin… I jus’ bought dat bike.” Turning back to Vincent Brennan’s already formed curses disappeared with the sight of the .45 barrel covered against wandering eyes by suit jacket. “…first you go an take me keys. Now you gonna point a gun at me…” His words grew softer as he mentioned the firearm with passing patrons of the church.

“Sorry man… but how am I supposed to know you’re not involved? What, you just show up here after all these years? I’ve layed low for all these years and suddenly, I’m being threatened and you show up out of nowhere… and I’ve got the feeling that at some point along this ‘game’, the shit is gonna hit the fan.” Brennan’s eyes grew furious as he kept sight on the man wielding the gun and worried less about the barrel. “Involved in what?! I’m not even sure what da hell dis is.” Holding up the Leather bound Bible within his tightened grasp, “I got a Bible… an a threat jus’ as you.” Throat swallowed as he tried to control the Irish blood boiling within his veins. “What they threaten you? Take your guns and all da other shit ya sale to da authorities?” Brennan shook his head all the while cobalt orbs remained locked with Kane’s. “They threaten to kill someone if you don’ play ‘long… ‘cause dat’s what dey did to me.”

He noticed Vin’s eyes soften for a moment, realization maybe, but finger still remained hovering over the trigger. “It’s really none of your God damn business…” Donovan’s hand flung up catching his mouth before it slipped along unshaven jaw line. “You ‘member Johanna? Yeah, well seems dat night turned out ‘little more den we thought. Yesterday, I found out I ‘ave a son. Didn’ even know ‘bout him until some suit showed me his picture…” Again Brennan swallowed hard, he wasn’t a man that told many things, especially with a gun in his midst. He was trained to withstand but somehow it didn’t matter anymore, not now.
“I shouldn’ even give a fuck ‘bout ‘im. Johanna didn’ t’ink it was worth mentionin’… but when I saw da photo…” Eyes had slipped momentarily before regaining focused stare, “…the least I can do is save da kid from a man dat doesn’ even exist to 'im.” Again thumb rounded the corner of his lip applying pressure. “So if you’re gon’ do dis paranoia t’ing, get it over wit. ‘Cause I ain’t driven, God knows how many miles, wit you if you’re gon’ ‘ave a gun to me back da entire time.”

[Ella Drake]

Hands gripped the edge of the sink in the closet sized ladies room of the road side diner she and her beau had stopped at. Brunette gazed into the mirror and eventually spaced out deep in thought as the water ran. As intriguing as she found the $32 million dollar race to be, Ella could not help but wonder why exactly they were their. Why out of the six billion people on the planet she and Jason were chosen to participate. Focus was brought back to reality by a sharp knocking at the door. “You know there are other people who need to use this facility.” Snooty tone from the complete stranger made Ella cross her eyes and mimic the woman on the other side. Washing her hands and she turned off the tap and grabbed paper towel from the dispenser drying her hands. Reaching down she grabbed the cream coloured hoodie which lay a top her closed bag and tugged it on. Giving herself one last tired look, she made a face at herself picked up her bag and exited the cramped room.

Impatient woman gave Ella a dirty look as she brushed past her. Flip-flop clad feet moved quickly across the linoleum floor of the diner. Dropping her bag on the seat across from Jason she slid into the booth pushing it the bag towards the window. Glossy lips smiled at Jason as she watched him watch her adjust the way she sat. “So, we get the first destination yet?” She watched him pull out the assigned race phone and put it on the table. “No we haven't got anything yet. It's driving me crazy, they kidnap you and now they are making us wait forever.” Ella reached out and placed her hand over his, digits squeezing slightly before releasing and leaning back into the booth and sighed. “I know, I mean hurrying up is the least they could do for dragging us out here.” Hint of sarcasm matched the small smile that spread on her lips. This had always been her coping mechanism, and had been fortunate enough to find someone willing to put up with her when she was in that mode.

Slender fingers wrapped around the handle of the ceramic coffee cup before her and brought it to her lips. It was like drinking jet fuel, but beggars couldn't be choosers and at least it would keep her going. Tongue flicked across her bottom lip as the two sat quietly for a moment. Forearms pressed against the table as she leant against it. “So what's your take on the sitch? I mean really.” “The money could really help. I mean it is kind of crazy but they have gone pretty far to get us into it.” They had gone over these things multiple times and it always came down to those two things. The two pros in the long line of cons. The negatives neither of them really had not spoken about, the brunette figured that as long as she had her Jason with her, the negatives didn't matter all that much. “I still think it sounds like some shitty reality TV show with some big catch to it.”

“Yes well as long as it doesn't turn out we are brother and sister I think we will be good.” He laughed slightly. Ella nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee stifling a laugh. It was an on going joke between the two of them. Between Jason's dysfunctional family and Drake's being adopted, it was just one of those things they found broke tension when the rest of the world seemed strained. Jokes of the 'shouldn't be funny because they're based on things that have the ability to be true' variety just had that way about them. “I think I'd have to kill myself at that point.” She was joking of course, but the idea of finding out the man you loved was actually your half brother would have that affect. He laughed at her twisted joke. “Careful, or I'm going to make ride in the trunk.”