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"YOUR EYES ARE LIKE STARLIGHT NOW."

It's a soft, scratchy ringtone, paired with the faint vibration in her palm—an innocently concealed signal for the next move.

"I ought to say, 'no, no, no, sir,'" Marilyn Maxwell sings quietly, shadowed beneath the constant hum of Dean Martin. "Mind if I move in closer?"

Her gaze zeroes in on the brilliantly lit tree, radiating with warmth and joy, almost burning the holiday spirit into the fucking night sky.

"At least I'm gonna say that I tried..." Another loving lull, barely audible in the rippling crowd of tourists. "What's the sense of hurtin' my pride?"

The lights flicker, flicker, flicker—

"I really can't stay..."

A satisfied smile curls at her lips.

"Oh, baby, don't hold out..."

—and everything goes dark.

"Baby," she drawls beneath a wave of surprised gasps. "It's fucking cold outside."

Now.

In one smooth, fluid motion, she kills the song, slides the burner phone to her ear, and nods. "Okay, Blue, we're out."

"Out."

"Atom did it." With a halfhearted laugh, she shakes her head. "Whatever the fuck that bitch did, it worked."

A faint chuckle floats through the line, thick and raspy with an unspoken victory. "Blew a transformer. Manhole explosion. Knocked out the grid. As far as 28th to 72nd."

Perfect.

With a wry smile, she glances up at the cut silhouette of 30 Rock, towering up into a starless sky. Nothing but a dim haze coats the entire city, obscuring everything but the looming shadows cast in the weak glow of too many phone screens.

They decided on darkness. People feared darkness, and in those moments of insecurity, the fragility of this city was damning.

In mere seconds, every trace of that fucking holiday cheer lingering in the icy air had descended into hushed whispers, little wisps of panic and dread fluttering around her from a million unlucky motherfuckers who decided to flock to this tourist trap for Christmas Eve. If only they knew.

"It's out," she snickers. "Everything."

"Is Cadillac in place?"

As she searches the street, devouring every inch of exposed gravel in the faint headlights, stagnant as the ocean of darkness floods into the street. Suddenly, all those people resemble ghosts, flickering through the fleeting light, speaking softly and suspiciously about the blackout. Her teeth grind together. "I don't know," she mutters bitterly, craning to her tiptoes to find something in the constant flow of shadows. "Can't see shit."

"Find him."

Without another word, Blue hangs up on her.

Fuck. A curse unravels in the back of her throat, twisted into the strand of bile that burns the top of her mouth. Biting back the vicious urge to scream in frustration, she swallows the surge of nausea frantically. This isn't the time for her to pick a fight with him; she knew it wouldn't change anything. Somewhere in the moments that held everything together, the responsibility had fallen on her, and this wasn't what she fucking signed up for. This... wasn't at all what she signed up for, but they were in the final moments of a midnight marathon, and someone had to find the finish line.

Fighting would only fuck them over.

Quick fingers fumble for the number. Another fucking number to another fucking burner phone.

"Fuck, man," he answers with a breathless huff. "Did you seriously choose Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree for your ringtone?"

A coy smile flirts at her lips. "It's poetic, right?"

"I don't have fucking time for this."

An icy wind lashes at her cheeks. As she ducks under the awning of the building, a palm grazing brick, her jaw clenches. "Right. Where are you?"

"48th and 6th." A quick rasp. "Road block is set."

She nods. "Power is out."

"Yeah, I got that." A slew of horns erupt somewhere in the background. Cadillac strains a tight hiss into her ear. "There are too many people in the street. We're stuck."

Something akin to aggravation twists her lips into a scowl. "No," she snaps. "You can't be stuck."

There couldn't be a delay. Nothing.

Her gaze strays to the street, to the ripples of confused pedestrians slowly shifting through sheets of light, to the traffic jam. Another horn blares, closer to her, catapulting her into a chaotic conclusion. "Cadillac, do whatever you have to do to get here."

"If you want me to get there on time," he sighs impatiently, "I'm gonna have to ride the sidewalk."

Hastily, she twists into the shadows of the awning. "Okay, yeah."

"There could be casualties, babe."

Blue would say no.

"Do it," she says quietly. "Just get here. Now."

And in an unnerving imitation of Blue, an echo of a command, she hangs up on him. There are some things that they seem to share—an affinity for having the last word.

Shakily, she inhales. Everything around her is fierce and frantic, a whirlwind of dwindling lights and gyrating figures closing in on her with the sudden soundtrack of horns and sirens, tense conversations and...

Determination spikes her blood. They were too far in to back out now. This was a dead end street, and she wasn't going down for it.

Her head sways. A faint blue glow of the tiny burner phone guides her trembling fingers to dial that first number. Blue.

"Okay," he clips out as soon as the dial tone cracks. No greeting. "Cadillac?"

A feral growl threatens to bubble up, but she grinds her teeth together. "Corner of 48th and 6th."

"Road bloc—"

"Set."

"Good work," he says softly, an unmistakable trace of respect in his voice. "Keep it quick."

Her heart skips. "Always."

Blue snickers. "Don't I know it?"

"You think."

"Mmm. Stay warm, baby."

"It's cold outside," she murmurs coolly, fighting off an irresistible shiver. "Thanks for that."

When his teasing laughter bleeds through the line, caressing her ear with an icy challenge, she bites down on her bottom lip so hard that she tastes blood. Warmth floods through her mouth, metallic and murderous. "Yeah, I thought you'd like that."

A crisp wind stings her cheeks, numbs her fingertips, seizes her in a cold embrace, but it's nothing compared to the cutting edge in his voice that freezes her blood. "You know me so well, Blue."

"Aw, don't tell me you didn't love it?"

Her nostrils flare. "Fuck off. Are you good?"

"You know where I am."

As she raises her chin, a smile twitches at her lips. "Yeah, I do."

"Keep them together," he lulls. "You're it, Star."

Mhmm. It's all on her now. After all, what would this plan be without the fucking star? "I've got it."

"Are you sure about that?"

And as always, that slight mocking tone in his voice lights a fire in her blood. All the ice in her veins thaws, boils, burns with a violent desire for...

Blood.

Gnawing on her raw bottom lip, she hums lazily.

"We're on a schedule," he warns when she doesn't respond, something hostile tracing the reminder to her heart. "You know that."

"I know." Stiffly, she pulls the phone away from her ear to check the time. "I know. It's 22:11."

Blue pauses. Blue hesitates for half a fucking heartbeat.

"Blue."

"We've got nineteen minutes to steal that fucking star, baby," he laughs lowly. "Don't fuck up."

☆

**LOOOOOOL. OMFG. We gotta get ready for some real tension—sexual and... otherwise. 😏

Have any of you seen the Rockefeller Tree? AND THE STAR? It's gorgeous. 🌟