KILL THE LIGHTS [callen]

[brynn abigail foster]

I'M NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND, BABY.

i ain't your cute little sex toy.

"Isn't this exciting?" Abbie grinned up at her partner.
"You're blowing this out of proportion. It's just an assignment."
"Just an assignment?! Bradley, you must be joking. We're getting into the hottest party in the city. Possibly in the state. For free. Guaranteed. We're on the damn list. Just an assignment?!"
"It's not like we get to party. We just have to get this guy and go."
Brad was an illusionist, and not the first one Abbie had met who was more than a bit disillusioned. "Do you think that once we get him, we get taken off the list? Helloooo. Think a little."
He just shrugged.
Men were infuriating sometimes.
"Nice costume, at any rate." she grumbled. He was dressed in a sleek, designer pin-striped suit, a fedora perched on his head, and a perfectly functioning revolver for a prop. Everything was as authentic as it got; straight from the age of prohibition. She knew Brad came from money, but sometimes she forgot just how much.
She couldn't understand why he was involved with Alticor. They usually went for the desperate or the brilliant, of which, Brad was neither. He was obviously well-off, had nobody to protect, and had only scraped through college with the help of daddy's money. Even his gift was nothing spectacular. It wasn't bad, but Abbie had encountered people who had far better control of the same ability. He was a good fighter, and he knew his way around the city, but she just couldn't see Alticor seeking him out for something like that. Besides, his attitude was nothing like those of the people Alticor forced in. They were either broken or defiant. He was just a cocky asshole who kissed the butts of the higher ups, while managing to break protocol on a daily basis. Her only conclusion was that he enjoyed ruining people's lives and had volunteered for the job.
"Yeah, you too." his response broke through her train of thought and she turned to see him smirking at her. She blushed a little. She could practically feel him objectifying her.
Had she known she was going to be partnered with Brad, she may have rethought her costume. As it was, she was wearing a skimpy black dress, lace gloves, a big red rose in her hair, and a pair of dangerously high red stilettos. A pair of fang dental caps completed the look. She thought it was a rather fitting costume for her.
"So what's the plan? You'll seduce him into the car and I'll bust out the chloroform?"
That was certainly enough to piss her off. That was all women were good for to Brad. He didn't care that her ability was at least ten times more dangerous than his. He didn't care that she'd been in the program longer. She was just bait.
"Actually," she snapped, "I'll handle this."
Brad just laughed.
She had half a mind to blow his eyes out right then and there. He was almost worse than- no. She wasn't going to think about him tonight.
"Come on, Abs. They're sending me along for a reason. You don't think you could handle him on your own, do you?"
"Excuse me?" Abbie wheeled around to face him. "This is my assignment. You are backup. And for God's sake, I don't know how the think sending you, of all people, is going to help. You're nothing more than a spoiled rich brat who can do parlor tricks! I've seen people without abilities who are better illusionists than you are. So next time you want to try this shit with me, you'd best consider who could kill you in two seconds flat."
"Feisty, huih? You know what I-"
The doors across the lab slid open with a hiss, and an older man walked in.
"Miss Foster, Mister Cartsdale. I take it you've read up on your target?"
"Yes, sir." Abbi nodded. The guy they were after was pretty average, unmarried, and without much family too, which made her job a whole lot easier.
"Uhh.. Yeah.." Brad glanced at her. If he'd read the file, she'd be amazed.
"Now, Miss Foster, as this is your assignment-"
"You've gotta be kidding me!" Brad interjected.
The older man gave him a stern look before continuing, "Now, as I was saying, I know that a partnership between Mister Cartsdale and yourself isn't ideal, but the two of you are close in age, and he knows how to blend in at such an- Miss Foster, please stop making Mister Cartsdale's eyes swell."
"Sorry Mr. Ackerman." she mumbled.
"Here are your I.D.'s. There's a car waiting for you outside. Miss Foster, please try not to kill your partner in public?"
"No guarantees, Mr. Ackerman." she grinned, taking out her Coach wallet and swapping her real I.D. for the fake. "Come on asshole, I'll tell you the plan in the car."

* * * * * * * * *

Had it gone over well? Not so much. But it wasn't like he had a choice. And it was a fairly good plan. They'd have him in no time. Then Alticor could deal with him, she could ditch Brad, and then maybe stand a chance of actually enjoying her night.
It was fairly simple. They'd just get the guy noticeably tipsy, Brad would make him think it was later than it was, when he stood up to leave, Abbie would make his legs go weak, and then they'd offer to help him to his car. Then they just had to get him into their car, Abbie could make him pass out, and then they were golden. The rest would be up to the higher-ups.
The only problem was that it might take a while, and a while with Brad could potentially feel like an extremely unpleasant eternity.
But nothing changed the fact that she was getting into the hottest party of the year. People were still talking from last year. This just might end up being the best Halloween ever.
The car glided to a stop in front of the club, music thrumming through the air. She could feel the drumbeat pulsing through the ground as she stepped out of the car, and even Bradley's hand on her back couldn't wipe the grin off her face.

* * * * * * * * *

Getting in had been a cakewalk (not like she'd expected it to be otherwise) and they'd already spotted their target. Abbie was keeping an eye on the man while Brad bought their drinks. They'd been there less than half an hour, and murder was looking like a great option, and was sounding better every minute. She scanned the crowd boredly, looking for familiar faces, or- even better- famous faces. She wasn't seeing either, however.
She sighed, looking over to the bar, dreading Brad's return. She glanced at their man again, who was busy charming the tiara off of a fairy princess who looked an awful lot like one of the girls from the city ballet.
It was getting to the point where she was going to have to go over there herself, when she made the mistake of looking through the crowd again.
"Oh no." she groaned, the color draining from her face. "Not tonight. I can't deal with this tonight." But apparently she had to.
She looked back to Brad, sighing in relief when she saw he was too busy hitting on the slutty bartender to notice the "threat" behind him. She slid off her barstool, slinking quickly through the throng.
"Callen!" she tried to keep her voice down as she tugged on the back of his shirt.
This was looking like a disaster already.

I'M NOT YOUR LION OR YOUR TIGER,
won't be your nasty little boy.

[callen lee jones]

Tonight was going to be somewhat of a relaxing one. He had already had a few too many drinks, making him much looser than he would be on any other given day. Because it was Halloween and the girl that had a crush on him had asked him multiple times to go to the party with him, he finally gave in and said yes. There were a few restrictions to it though. he didn’t want to be touched, he didn’t want her clinging to him like a leech, and he wanted to be able to do whatever he wanted. Basically it would be like going to a party with a friend, nothing more. He didn’t even really like the girl, but he figured if he went with her to this thing, she’d see that she actually didn’t like him because he was a terrible person, and she would move on, simple as that.

It wasn’t that Callen hated everyone…well, actually he kind of did. Ever since his family was taken away from him, he wanted nothing to do with the human race, and more specifically anyone involved in Alticor. Only one person in that entire group of assholes was on is “slightly tolerable” side. She was rude, thought way too highly of herself, and he pretty much hated everything about her. The only thing that made Callen not kill Abbie when he saw her was the fact that she had to keep her brother alive. If it weren’t for Lyle, he would have imploded her the first time he saw her. Callen felt sorry for her—almost. Then he thought about how much of a complete cunt she was.

He didn’t dress up. He just wore his normal clothes, which for most people would be considered a costume. He put on his tight skinny black jeans, threw on an Iron Maiden t-shirt, covered his eyes with black liner, ran his hands through his hair a few times, and left. It wasn’t hard for him to get ready because he didn’t give a shit what he looked like.

He told Audrey, his “date” that he would just meet her at the party, so he got into his car and headed for the club where it was being held. It was one of the biggest Halloween ordeals in all of Boshford, and he had heard that a lot of people were going to be there. He hoped he would be able to find someone other than Audrey to talk to. She was yappy and didn’t know when to end a conversation. He wasn’t looking forward to telling her that he didn’t care and that she should just go get another drink. If worst came to worst, he could just shut her up via his own mouth. Though he’d probably regret it later, making out with the girl would probably shut her up. He could only hope.

Callen had been to this club before, and he walked right up to the bouncer who was standing guard. After slipping him a hundred, the man opened the little red velvet rope for him. He went straight to the bar and ordered three shots of the best whiskey he had. Once they were poured, he threw them back like they were water. He turned to see a crowd of people. The bar tender slid the drinks towards him, and Callen turned around to take them back as well. Six shots in a matter of minutes was enough to put a normal person in a bathroom puking their guts out, but it didn’t really bother him all that much. He was used to drinking at least a bottle in two days. He could take it down like a pro, no problem.

He focused his mind on the wood of the bar. He felt something tugging on his shirt. He prepared himself to turn around and find Audrey pulling on him. Instead, when he turned and heard his name being called, he saw no one other than Abbie. He rolled his eyes angrily. Of all the people in Boshford, the one person that could get under his skin, it had to be her that was here. He would rather be stuck to Audrey for an entire night than have to be with Abbie tonight. He sighed and ordered three more shots. “What the hell do you want, Abbie?” he asked. He took the first shot the bartender poured and threw it back. Was she stalking him or something? This was ridiculous. They seemed to run into each other at the most random times, each of them more annoying than the last.

[brynn abigail foster]

She shouldn't have expected his reaction to be any different. Really. By now she should know better. But yet, she still had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from snapping back. She folded her arms as he slammed down another shot, and took a deliberately slow breath. "What I want," she paused as her jaw clenched in frustration, "is to save your sorry ass. Though why I even bother anymore is beyond me."
She looked back over at Brad, knowing she didn't have much time. "Look," she slid into the seat next to him. She knew he wouldn't like it, but he could deal with it for the minute she'd be there. "I've only got a few seconds, so could you please just not interrupt?"
She bit her lip for a moment as he took the next shot the bartender slid toward him. His eyes were like ice as he glared at her over his alcohol. "Hurry the hell up then."
"Fine," she grumbled. Next time, she decided, she'd just let him deal with it himself. If he wanted to get gunned down the second he set foot out of the club, that was his own damn issue. "I'm here for work. There's a guy here that they want me to bring in. If it were just me, I'd leave you alone, but they always send us out in pairs. And.. The guy I'm with..." she glanced nervously back over at Brad, "He'd call Alticor the second he saw you, and I wouldn't be able to stop him. I just-" She stopped for a moment. If she told him to leave, he's just laugh at her. If she told him to hide... He'd probably just walk away.
"He's over there, in the gray fedora. Talking to the bartender in the bunny costume. Just... Be careful? Please?" It was silent for an unnaturally long second before she realized how much it sounded like she gave a damn what happened to him. Shaking her head, she added gruffly, "I don't want to have to explain why some guys guts are on the ceiling. Or why there's a dead freak in the parking lot."
She slid off the barstool, her heels hitting the ground with a soft click. She was astutely aware of the fact that her already short dress had gotten hiked a good inch farther up her thighs, but she tried to ignore it. She could fix it once she was out of sight. She looked up at him uncertainly. Somehow, she doubted he'd listen to a word she'd said.

[callen lee jones]

Callen would rather not listen to Abbie talk, so when she told him she’d be quick, he was somewhat relieved. He took his shot and slammed it down on the bar. With a sigh, he told her to hurry up. He really didn’t want to talk to her in the first place, and having her banter on was not something he would ever choose to listen to. Her voice was irritating, and her presence wasn’t welcome. When she slid on the next to him, he grumbled. He didn’t scoot over, but he contemplated it. He sighed and looked at her from the mirror that was plastered against the full length of the bar. He could see lights flashing in his eyes and Abbie, barely covered by the little clothing she had one.

She explained why she was there, as if he actually cared at all, and explained to him that she was here for Alticor. Instantly he tensed up. Not only did he not want to be around Abbie, but he also didn’t want to be around anyone from Alticor. Tonight was supposed to be about forgetting about all of that shit and letting loose to have fun—or as much fun as the alcohol would let him. Truthfully, he never wanted to be around those assholes at all, much less in a public place where it would be impossible to kill them without being caught or blowing up an innocent bystander. He looked in the direction Abby did and saw the guy with the hat. He snorted a little and looked back at Abbie. “You’re kidding, right?” he asked. That guy wouldn’t be able to touch him even if he tried. To even think that Callen could be hurt by some pansy ass rich boy was hilarious. And a fedora? What was he some kind of 50’s pimp or something? Abbie looked like she was nervous about the guy seeing her next to him. he almost laughed. Why should she be nervous? He had gotten out of more than a few situations with Alticor, and he was sure he could handle it.

“Chill, I think I can contain myself from blowing up some prissy little bitch.” He shook his head and took back the third shot that was shoved his way. That made nine. How many he would have was unknown, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t anywhere near done. He was certain it was only around one or two, and the night was nowhere near done either. Callen spotted Audrey come into the club and he looked back at Abbie. Without saying anything, he walked up to her. She was dressed in barely any clothes, and her makeup was done up twice as heavy as it normally was. He tried smiling at her, but it turned into something else entirely. ”What?” she asked as if she had done something wrong. Callen looked back at the bar, but didn’t see Abbie anywhere. He looked over to where Brad was before, and saw her standing next to him, staring right at him. He turned back to Audrey and shook his head. “Nothing. Want a drink?” he asked and took her arm. He led her to the bar and sat her beside him. ”Are we going to dance later?” she asked. He looked down at her, and nodded. “Yeah, sure,” he replied. He wanted to think about anything but Alticor and Abbie tonight. Audrey would do just the trick.

[brynn abigail foster]

Things went nearly exactly as she'd expected- he was sardonic and rude, didn't take a word she'd said seriously, and even managed to get an offhand death threat in there. "Well hey, it's your scrawny ass on the line." she smiled sarcastically up at him. "Pardon my trying to help." she turned and strode off across the room, where Brad had moved on from the bartender to an even sluttier looking peroxide blonde.
"Ahem," Abbie coughed loudly, "As much as I'd hate to drag you away from this... charming.. young lady, Bradley," she gave her "partner's" idea of attractive a distasteful once-over, "I seem to recall us coming here for something slightly more important." She folded her arms, raising an eyebrow at the incompetent schmuck the buddy system had landed her with. He glanced at her bemusedly, then turned back to his victim. Oh, you're joking Abbie thought bitterly. "It's always gotta be the hard way with you." she grumbled, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him from his seat, leaving the simpering blonde in a state of confusion.
Once she'd gotten him a safe distance away, she dropped her hand from his arm.
"Ow! he whined, rubbing where her fingers had dug into what little muscle he had. "What the hell was that f-"
"Don't even start with me. Work first, asshole." she growled, stalking off towards their mark.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Forty-seven minutes later, Abbie was still feigning interest in Mr. Donwald's stream of chatter, still wearing her most charming smile, still trying to keep Brad in check. In short, she was sick and tired of waiting. The man flagged the bartender down and ordered another round of drinks for him and his "friends." Abbie forced a giggle, tripping over it just enough to sound like the booze had gotten to her.
"Pete!" she put her hands on his forearm, simultaneously stepping on Brad's foot. She glanced at her- ugh- partner to make sure he understood. Fortunately, he nodded and picked up his phone. Abbie turned back to the hydrakinetic with the same vapid grin on her face, "Don't you think you've had enough for now?" He just laughed. She turned to Brad again- he was just putting his phone back in his pocket. The bartender set their drinks down, and Mr. Donwald slid off his stool.
"See?" He grinned, taking a few steps, "I'm perfectly-" he staggered a little, looking a bit puzzled. Abbie and Brad exchanged a look and rushed forward, each taking a side and holding the man up.
"C'mon," Brad laughed, "Let's get you some fresh air."

• • • • • • • • • • • • • •

They were pushing open the back door as their driver was backing into the alley. The man hardly had time to realize this wasn't normal before the color drained from his face and he slumped over, unconscious. Brad, of course, ducked out from under the man's arm to open the car door, leaving Abbie to support the 34-year-old man, and then to get him into the backseat of the car. The inevitable twist in her gut came as the car door slammed shut, but it's for Lyle.. she told herself, and forced the guilt back down.
"All in a day's work.." she muttered to herself as she watched the car until it was out of view. Brad was already ducking back into the club, and after another moment, she followed suit.

[callen lee jones]

Callen really didn’t like her attitude at the moment—not that he had enjoyed it any other time either. She always thought she was helping him out somehow when she was really just messing with him and trying to fuck shit up. Abbie just liked to put herself up on that high pedestal and make her look like she was better than everyone else around her. Callen ignored her and rolled his eyes when she strolled off. He was glad that he could now finally get shit faced without having to have her around acting like some princess. He couldn’t handle her at the moment and instead fixed his eyes on his date, Audrey. She was nice enough, though she seemed a little air headed, which he could tolerate only for so long.

---

He realized that he had lost his date along the journey through the evening. Callen looked around to see where she was, stumbling over a couple on one of the red leather couches and running into some guy who he knew was in the resistance; he was a flier, he though… or something cool like that. The door to the club opened and he saw a familiar figure walk in with a guy leaning on her. His thoughts of his fellow resistance member vanished and he walked towards her with a grin on his face. “Found yourself a keeper, didn’t you?” he slurred. Callen laughed and pulled a cigarette from his back pocket and stuck it between his lips. He searched his pockets for his lighter but couldn’t seem to place it, so he covered his hands and made a tiny enough explosion in front of the cigarette to light the tip. He pulled his hands away, making a face of accomplishment and yelled, “Hey!” as if he were surprised it worked, when he was more surprised that he hadn’t accidentally blown something else up.

He took a long drag and poked the halfway dead guy that was hanging onto Abbie. “Why don’t you just put him on the couch over there?” he said, taking the other side of the guy and doing just that without her permission. He turned and looked at her, having to bend over to meet her eye-to-eye. “Why don’t you get those panties out of a wad and drink with me?” he asked, grabbed a bottle of liquor from the counter, and shoved it at her.