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LJ is still refusing to load for me, I'm gonna try crossposting for the heck of it with this.
Raven-centric, for
hc_bingo, the 'Caught in a robbery' square, which sort of covers the 'summary' section, doesn't it? Set not much before the movie, which meant I found myself looking at Wikipedia for the Life Savers flavors available in 1962. Thanks to
lindentreeisle for the bingo.
Raven was in the back of the store when the shouting started. She'd been trying to decide between Diet Rite and regular Pepsi, because did it really matter how many calories she took in, and suddenly there was shouting and action and men with guns.
Men with guns.
They were wearing pantyhose over their heads, but she could tell the man closest to her was on the short side. He was burly, and the half-inch of skin between his sleeves and his black leather gloves was white. "Don't move," he said to her, his voice sounding strange and muffled through the pantyhose. "We don't want nobody to get hurt."
Then you shouldn't have a gun, Raven thought, standing as still as she could, her mind running through a list of possibilities and dismissing them all. Charles was back at the hotel, too far away to be of any help (he could've changed their minds, made them think something was there that wasn't, found a policeman and put the thought of swinging into the store into his mind). And she had no way of contacting him; he could speak to her, sometimes, from a distance, but the connection only went in one direction. Don't move, the man had said. She could change, but what difference would that make? They'd be startled. They might start shooting, and someone might get hurt.
She could turn into anyone, but she couldn't turn into anyone who could help. She held tight onto the strap of her purse; was there anything in there she couldn't let go of? She didn't want to lose anything, but she could give them her money; she had enough money. Charles had given her the wallet, but that would be all right; she had plenty of gifts from him. Was there anything -- a note, a letter -- that would hint at who she really was? She'd never dared to be photographed wearing her real face, even as a joke at Halloween.
She had a pack of 5-flavor Life Savers, her wallet, her lipstick, her compact. A metal nail file; that could be a weapon, if she knew how to use it. Maybe she should get a weapon, a real one. She could be stronger, she knows that, and she's already fast. Surely there's someone offering self-defense classes. Anything would be better than this horrible waiting, standing as still as she can, hoping desperately that nothing else will happen, no one else will want to act heroic or come into the store and startle the thieves.
So many things that could go wrong; so many things she couldn't do.
She stayed after the men left, and talked to the police, as politely as she could. Charles had put her papers in order, found her a birth certificate. She had nothing to be afraid of.
She wanted to cry and hated herself for it.
They thanked her for helping, and she left the store, still clutching her purse, still anxious, still weak.
She wondered where she could find a set of free weights.
Raven-centric, for
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Raven was in the back of the store when the shouting started. She'd been trying to decide between Diet Rite and regular Pepsi, because did it really matter how many calories she took in, and suddenly there was shouting and action and men with guns.
Men with guns.
They were wearing pantyhose over their heads, but she could tell the man closest to her was on the short side. He was burly, and the half-inch of skin between his sleeves and his black leather gloves was white. "Don't move," he said to her, his voice sounding strange and muffled through the pantyhose. "We don't want nobody to get hurt."
Then you shouldn't have a gun, Raven thought, standing as still as she could, her mind running through a list of possibilities and dismissing them all. Charles was back at the hotel, too far away to be of any help (he could've changed their minds, made them think something was there that wasn't, found a policeman and put the thought of swinging into the store into his mind). And she had no way of contacting him; he could speak to her, sometimes, from a distance, but the connection only went in one direction. Don't move, the man had said. She could change, but what difference would that make? They'd be startled. They might start shooting, and someone might get hurt.
She could turn into anyone, but she couldn't turn into anyone who could help. She held tight onto the strap of her purse; was there anything in there she couldn't let go of? She didn't want to lose anything, but she could give them her money; she had enough money. Charles had given her the wallet, but that would be all right; she had plenty of gifts from him. Was there anything -- a note, a letter -- that would hint at who she really was? She'd never dared to be photographed wearing her real face, even as a joke at Halloween.
She had a pack of 5-flavor Life Savers, her wallet, her lipstick, her compact. A metal nail file; that could be a weapon, if she knew how to use it. Maybe she should get a weapon, a real one. She could be stronger, she knows that, and she's already fast. Surely there's someone offering self-defense classes. Anything would be better than this horrible waiting, standing as still as she can, hoping desperately that nothing else will happen, no one else will want to act heroic or come into the store and startle the thieves.
So many things that could go wrong; so many things she couldn't do.
She stayed after the men left, and talked to the police, as politely as she could. Charles had put her papers in order, found her a birth certificate. She had nothing to be afraid of.
She wanted to cry and hated herself for it.
They thanked her for helping, and she left the store, still clutching her purse, still anxious, still weak.
She wondered where she could find a set of free weights.