The Francisco Seven [multiple celebrities] [complete]

[Cindylover1969]

The floor suddenly felt very unsteady underneath Grace. Looking nervously at Kate as she took out a bottle and two glasses, she gulped.
"I believe the phrase you're looking for is 'Oh, crap,'" the warden said calmly, pouring some whisky into the glasses and handing one to Grace before lifting up her own. “Salut.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Whoever said “Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise” hadn’t figured on the FBI, Jessica Biel figured as she studied reports in her office. Being a Fed certainly hadn’t made her wealthy, coming in first every day – well, apart from the cleaners – didn’t do anything for her health, and if she was wise she’d have quit long ago. She didn’t even have a vacation to look forward to because she’d already used all her holiday time.
And she couldn’t even work it off by humping Beverley Mitchell. At least not until she and the other Musketeers (also known as Kristen Bell and Tammin Sursok) got back from checking out that club in LA; Jessica had half-expected to get a call from the La-La Land office telling them that BJ and/or Beverley was in a holding cell or hospital… no love lost between those two, especially now that she was Agent Mitchell.
As if Fate was cueing it up, her phone rang. Glad to have an excuse not to go over reports for a few minutes, Jessica snatched it up, expecting for a second that they had indeed come to blows. Again.
“Biel here… Mm-hmm… No, the agents on the case are on another assignment… WHAT!?! When the fuck did THIS happen?... I’m on it. Thanks for letting me know.”
The second the phone went back in its cradle, Jessica was dialling Kristen. It didn’t matter whether or not they were done in LA, and it didn’t matter how much of a prima donna Miss Pancake Chest could be – the San Francisco Eight Minus Two Plus One were out and heading home, and Biel needed Bell and Beverley… and she supposed BJ… back on base. Now.
* * * * * * * * *
“This Is A Channel 7 Special Bulletin!”
JoAnna and Jason had been enjoying their evening at home so far; he’d managed to make dinner without messing something up for the eleventh time in a row – a new record – and she’d been thinking over their last upcoming vacation as a non-married couple now that she’d finally set a date. And then the announcer had crashed in.
“Oh, it’s probably something from the Governor,” Jason said airily. “He picks his nose and someone thinks it’s a big deal…”
The graphics dissolved to show the newsdesk, and a professional-looking young blonde sitting there. Jason’s attention got caught, and so was JoAnna’s; if Ashley Benson was fronting it instead of Tony Romano, it had to be something big. Channel 7 didn’t waste billboards on people lumbered with filler.

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“It has been confirmed that seven prisoners have escaped from the Remy Hadley Correctional Facility for Women upstate,” Ashley said. “Six of them are members of the group known as the San Francisco Eight…”
As pictures of the escapees filled the screen JoAnna gulped, and Jason eyed his soon-to-be-wife with concern. Even though that Pressly psycho wasn’t among the prisoners, that didn’t mean they might not want to take out the last six months on her or anyone else who’d sent them up.
“They’re not going to get you, JoAnna,” he assured her. “I promise.”
Before she could reply, the theme from “NCIS” burst forth from her jeans pocket – what a time to get a message. “Hang on, I gotta see this…” she said, taking out the phone.
“Not a problem – take your mind off the news,” Jason nodded as JoAnna looked at the screen, nodded and rapidly texted a reply, before pocketing the phone.
“That was Lorraine Myers,” she said casually.
“The one who can’t belch without telling you about it? Why do you hang around with her all the time?” Jason sighed.
“It’s a woman thing. You wouldn’t understand… come on, let’s go and have some fun before this turns into a fight.”
“What kind of fun?” Jason asked, smiling.
JoAnna made a very familiar gesture involving a thumb-index finger circle with one hand and the index finger of the other, smiling back. That was the kind of thing she wouldn’t have done last year; she was getting to the perfect balance, not exactly planning threesomes but not quite such a prude either – sometimes she even swore when they had sex now. Jason suspected that the hostage incident had changed something in her, made her just a bit eager to lighten up in some ways, but he knew better than to bring that up around her.
“You’re getting filthier every day,” he laughed.  “First you let me take dirty pictures of you and now this. What would your mother say?”
“Probably something like ‘You go to your room, JoAnna Leanna Garcia,’” JoAnna replied, giggling as she got up. “Now come on, let’s do what Mom says…”
As she led him upstairs, she had her mind mostly on what was about to happen – and partly on the message; “Did you see the news?” had come from a female friend, but not Lorraine. Her reply – “Yeah; fire up stage 2” – was on its way to Troian Bellisario, who would soon be on her way to meet the crew once they arrived in the City by the Bay. Their meeting place had been passed on to the others by Shay, who’d received it as a PS in the last letter she’d gotten from JoAnna.
JoAnna told herself the rising heartbeat and wetness in her crotch as she and Jason entered the bedroom and began to undress were because of him, and they were.
Mostly.

[Cindylover1969]

* * * * * * * * * *
The women spent most of their first day as escapees asleep.
Megan had driven as long as she could before the adrenaline ran dry; they managed to get the van off the road and hidden before getting some rest, which was easier for some of them than others. But each one had managed to sleep before late afternoon, when Megan came back from the Land of Nod first and chose not to wait until the rest were awake before starting it up.
Heading down the road, Megan kept it going as close to the limit as possible; their ride wasn’t stolen, but the last thing they needed was a speeding ticket. Either Pete or Rachel had made sure the tank was almost full, so they wouldn’t have to stop for anything else - bladders willing.
Sitting next to her, Roselyn was glad that this one had air conditioning (UNLIKE the cargo van Rhona had lumbered them with); she didn’t like having car windows open at night. Way too cold. And her arm was almost numb from the blood loss – which was why she was another member of the Torn Uniform club; on getting inside the first move was to get some strips off and bandage up her wound.
Handing out some eagerly-grabbed snacks, Olivia smiled wearily at Emma and Shay, and at Blake and Hayden sitting behind them.
Holding Emma’s still trembling hand – whether from the temperature or because she’d killed Fontana, she didn’t know and didn’t want to ask - Shay turned to give her ex-cellmate a reassuring glance and smile. And widened her eyes when she saw Blake was holding Hayden’s tiny hand as if her life depended on it.
“Still got the details of that place?” Roselyn asked Shay.
“Right here,” she assured the leader, tapping her chest.
“But we HAVE to get you guys fixed up somewhere,” Blake added.
“As soon as five of us draw straws," Megan said.
"For what? And how come five? There’s seven of us,” Olivia pointed out.
"Well, you want Rosie,” Emma told Olivia, “and Hayden here has dibs on Ashley Benson, so you two are kinda disqualified.”
“From what?” Hayden asked, already knowing the answer.
“From choosing who gets to kill Rhona Mitra,” Roselyn said calmly.

[Cindylover1969]

Coming tomorrow we get into the final part: The San Francisco Seven: The Payback

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* * * * * * * * * *
Son of a bitch.

Tracy Spiridakos had forgotten her wallet at home – she’d been in a rush to leave because she’d gotten up late because she’d been out with her girlfriends the night before because she was celebrating her promotion…  wow, this wasn’t the best way to start the weekend.

The young woman frantically felt her pockets and rummaged through her purse as she walked the last several yards – no money, but at least she still had her driver’s license, even if her damn car was in the garage again and she’d had to ride the subway like a common… like a common person without a car. And there was her bank, so the ID would come in handy to get some money out. Man, how did her parents get by without ATM machines? Tracy had to ask them the next time she was over there.
In she went, glad at least that it was early-ish and the lines at the counters weren’t too long; she darted to the shortest one, hoping that she wouldn’t have to be in here for a while.

“Good morning,” smiled the man behind the counter five minutes later.

“Hi!” Tracy countered.

“How’s the weekend so far?” he asked.

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“Oh, it could be worse,” she said casually. “You?”
“Can’t complain, ma’am. What can I do for you this morning?”

“I could do with some cash,” Tracy replied, handing him her driver’s licence and handing it over, along with the withdrawal slip she’d filled in while waiting. “Otherwise I’ve got a long weekend of nothing to do.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” the man assured her. “This’ll just take a moment…”

He started to do his work on the keyboard, while Tracy glanced around the bank just to kill time. She didn’t want to tap her feet, but the sooner she had the money in her hands the sooner the weekend could really start…

“Ma’am, there seems to be a little problem with your account.”

“What do you mean?” Tracy asked. “I got paid yesterday – there should be enough in there, c’mon.”

“Well, according to this… your account’s empty.”

Tracy’s heart almost stopped; she shook her head as she stared at him. “Wh…. What?! That’s impossible! I’ve got like $7000 in there, I checked last night and it was there and now you’re telling me it’s gone?!”

“I’m afraid so, ma’am,” the man said sympathetically.

“No,” the young woman said hastily and disbelievingly. “No, that can’t be. Show me the screen.”

“Brace yourself,” he said as he swivelled the screen to face her. Tracy read the information on it, her eyes resting on the telling figure on the far right: 0.00.

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“If you’ll take a seat one of our customer services personnel will see you in a few moments, and we’ll try and sort this out,” he continued, as Tracy’s eyes began to swim. This couldn’t be happening…  it just couldn’t.

“Please tell me I’m dreaming,” she moaned.

She didn’t wake up.

* * * * * * * * *

The women spent most of their first day as escapees asleep.

Megan had driven as long as she could before the adrenaline ran dry; they managed to get the van off the road and hidden before getting some rest, which was easier for some of them than others. But each one of them was slumbering as the world continued around them.

And above them, as a helicopter skimmed through the sky in the opposite direction…

“Seriously, is this a fucking joke?” asked Kristen Bell to no one in particular as the helicopter started its descent to the Remy Hadley courtyard. “Seven women bust out of here and no one manages to spot them? I mean, one I can understand but SEVEN?! What are they, invisible?”

“They must have some people helping them out,” Tammin Sursok mused in the seat opposite the pilot as she felt relief the flight was over – as hot as Kristen was, the moment she’d heard the San Francisco Eight… all right, the San Francisco Seven… had broken out of Remy Hadley the bitching and moaning had started. It hadn’t stopped on the way to their quickly arranged jet at LAX, it hadn’t stopped as they flew to Paradise and transferred to the chopper, and it wasn’t stopping now... Kristen probably did it in her sleep.

“Outside help? You worked that out by yourself? Well done, BJ!” Beverley Mitchell sarcastically clapped behind her as the helicopter landed.

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Not for the first time, Tammin had mixed feelings over where she was sitting – on the one hand, she hadn’t had to sit right next to Teacher’s Pet Mitchell (she couldn’t bring herself to call her “Agent Mitchell” even mentally). On the other hand, she’d been tempted many, many times to kick Beverley out during the flight, and if there was any way at all she could have made it look like an accident she would have. At least she had someone in her corner now, someone she could unload to after hours who’d help it all go away for a while.

At least Tammin had Victoria Justice.

“All that time in LA getting less than nowhere at Spectacular – someone should sue that place for false advertising – and now we’ve got to talk to some meathead guards…” Kristen’s grumbling soundtracked the helicopter touching down.

“Welcome to Remy Hadley,” said Tom, the guard who was waiting by the landing spot.

“Hi!” Kristen smiled to the meathead, brandishing her ID just in case he thought they were flying Avon Ladies. “I’m Agent Bell, my friend is Agent Mitchell, and the one in front is Agent Sursok.”

“Three of you?” he asked.

“We all worked on the case back in San Fran,” Beverley explained, ignoring the brief but blazing glare Tammin gave her. “This breakout made us all look bad.”

“We’ve been taking a lot of heat about this too,” he confided as he escorted the three agents to the entrance, with two more guards standing by the helicopter just in case any of the convicts working outside got any ideas. “Especially since they attacked one of the guards getting out.”

“Oh yeah, I read the report – Scarlett Johansson, right?” Tammin said. “I hear she’s popular with the prisoners.”

“She certainly is, ma’am,” Tom agreed. “Several of them had sex with Scarlett during the escape.”

“During?!” all three Feds echoed in surprise.

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“Yes, apparently that was part of their plan…”

“I thought that was made up!” Beverley laughed.

“Believe me, ma’am, everything you’ve heard about this place is true.”

Tom chuckled, but Tammin was still thinking about the other thing he’d just said. So a bunch of the San Fran Eight had gang-banged Scarlett in full view of the other prisoners, and she’d ended up at death’s door… but she’d been found in the guards’ quarters, far away from the route the gang had taken. She couldn’t have crawled all the way there from anywhere the escapees could have been in that condition. No way. And if they’d wanted to beat the woman to a pulp, why didn’t they just do it right there on the catwalk? She may have been a popular guard, but she was still a guard.

Even though it was a beautiful breezy morning, Tammin Sursok was smelling something nasty in the air.

* * * * * * * * * *

If there was one thing the current warden at Remy Hadley and her predecessor had in common, it was an appreciation for pairing up kittens and cougars.

When Alyssa Milano had given the go-ahead for the old cells to become playhouses for the guards, she had made one condition; she wanted to choose who the women to break it in would be (“Don’t worry, it’ll just be a one-time thing”). And thus Susan Sarandon and Taylor Swift became the first convicts to be banged, first by each other and then by the guards in attendance. That was also the first time proceedings had been filmed, as had all the assignations in there since. Including the time Warden Milano herself had made lifer Shannen Doherty her bitch.

Much as Kate Winslet had wished Alyssa hadn’t taken that particular video with her when she left, she had her own favourites. Like the one she and the agents were watching in her office; it had everything. Sex – all right, foreplay – and violence, plus Blake Lively naked. Kate, Tammin, Kristen and Beverley kept going back and forth between the gorgeous nude Blake tied up and the battle between Hayden Panettiere and Jaime Pressly, right up to when the victorious Hayden and the saved Blake left with the others.

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“Whoa,” Kristen said, impressed.

“That’s what I thought as well,” Kate admitted.

“Man, I would not want to get between her and Lively,” Beverley added.

“I would,” said Tammin, Kristen and Kate as one, all with big grins.

“Anyway,” the warden continued, switching off the screen, “Miss Pressly used the panelling in that area to try and escape… and you know how that fared for her.”

“And Jennifer Lawrence,” Kristen added. “But why weren’t the guards sent straight to that cell once someone got there after lights out?”

“We’re not mindreaders, Agent Bell,” said the warden. “If we had known this was coming, we would have stopped it.”

“So they went there and then to the other block – and they managed to get a keycard just like that?” asked Tammin.

“It might have been one of the guards. Probably Johansson,” Kate suggested.

“That would make sense,” Beverley agreed. “Sweet-talked her into helping them out, then beat the shit out of her to keep her from selling them out.”

“But it was still a little too easy…” Tammin said thoughtfully. “I can see them researching the layout, but who got them all the stuff they needed inside? And we know you had Grace Park in here all the time like she was a consultant or—“

“I don’t like what you’re implying, Agent Sursok,” Kate told her stiffly. “Of course there are a few rotten apples in any barrel, but Remy Hadley is hardly a den of corruption. They got out despite our best

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efforts, and my head guard nearly lost her life in the process – your job is to get them back. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“Yeah,” Tammin sighed as she and the others got up. “So do we.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“So heads I talk to Johansson, tails you do,” Beverley said to Tammin.

“Deal,” Agent Sursok replied. “But you’re using MY coin.”

“Whatever,” Beverley grumbled, accepting Tammin’s dime and flipping it.

As the coin made its choice, the door opened and a lovely but cross face emerged. Freema Agyeman was in charge of Remy Hadley’s medical facility, and she did not like official visitors; her patients may have been convicts (plus guards), but they were patients.

“Cate Blanchett and Jennifer Lawrence are still comatose, but the others are awake,” she said without a hint of a hello.

“We’re just glad we might still have a chance to ask them what happened,” Tammin replied as the agents entered.

“Start with Jaime Pressly, then hit up Scarlett Johansson-WHAT?” Kristen asked, seeing the shocked looks Tammin and Dr. Agyeman gave her. “It’s just an expression.”

“Yeah, it’s not like we did it,” Beverley backed her up.

“Wrap up with Grace Park,” Kristen told the good doctor. “We won’t take up much of your time.”

“You shouldn’t take up any of it at all,” Dr. Agyeman replied.  “This way.”

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This way led the three by a row of infirmary beds; there was rarely a time when the entire ward was empty, but there was rarely a time when the entire ward was occupied. Sarah Shahi and Kristen Stewart were asleep (and in restraints, in Stewart’s case), but it was the pair of Cate Blanchett and Jennifer Lawrence that caught Tammin’s eye. Both were in adjoining beds, connected to the machines that kept track of their every heartbeat; their bodies had been medically dressed, but the two of them had needed enough blood to make a vampire go “I’m good, thanks.” Several of the bullets the head guard had taken had shot clean through her body, but they’d still dug enough out of her to make a necklace; and Jennifer’s battered, scratched face was only the tip of the iceberg (the sewn-up wounds in her back, the smashed ribcage and other internal injuries when she’d hit the ledge a hundred feet down the mountainside with Jaime slamming onto her as SHE landed…).

Tammin patted one of Jennifer’s hands in passing as they got to Jaime Pressly, who glared at them through her oxygen mask. Her face was covered with stitched-up cuts, both her legs were in plaster, and had her gown been open the agents would have seen more bandages around her chest.

“I’m not going to pretend I’m sorry for you,” the agent told the patient.

“Bite me, Fed,” Jaime muttered through her remaining teeth.

“Jaime Pressly of the Black Panty Gang,” Kristen said. “Just wasn’t your night, huh? First you get the crap beaten out of you by a dwarf, then you fall off a mountain. Aren’t you lucky you had Jenny Lawrence there to land on.”

“I ain’t talking to you,” the bedridden blonde replied.

“Why’d you turn on them?” Tammin asked. “Trying to get rid of Blake Lively and Jennifer like that – whatever happened to honour among thieves?”

“I said I ain’t talking to you,” Jaime grunted. “You can’t give me nothin’ ‘cause I’m never getting outta here.”

“It could be easier for you around here if you just tell us where they’re  going,” Beverley told her. “You had this all mapped out, you had to have an endgame.”

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“Tell you what,” Jaime grimaced; even the morphine drip could only ease the pain so much. “One of you chops off the heads of the other two right here, right now, and I’ll talk.”

From Tammin’s POV Beverley’s head on a platter sounded like a good deal, but…

“Get worse soon, Pressly,” she hissed.

“You bring my girls back, hear?” Jaime called as strongly as she could. “I got unfinished business.”

The group studied Scarlett Johansson, lying a couple of beds down. Her face and what they could see of her body was covered with broken, puffed-up skin; Kristen shook her head. They’d really gone to town on this one.

Tammin noticed Scarlett’s eyes were watching them even more intently than Jaime, and her lips were trembling; almost like she had something she wanted to say to them, and had to get it out before she was too drained to say anything.

“Scarlett?” Beverley asked tenderly, leaning in towards the patient and willing herself not to be distracted by the effects of the beating.

“…not…”

“We’ll get them,” she told the guard. “I promise those prisoners will pay for what they did to you.”

Scarlett’s mind processed what Beverley was saying. The prisoners? No – they’d knocked her out but that was all… whatever else they’d done, they hadn’t done this. Scarlett struggled to get out what she had to say, but she was so tired… and she was so beaten…

“…wasn’t…” she whispered.

“Yes?” Beverley asked, leaning in closer.

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“C’mon, BJ – let’s have a word with Gracie…” Kristen suggested, as she and Tammin withdrew.

“What is it, Scarlett?” asked the other agent. “Which ones did this?”

“…not… prisoners…” Scarlett breathed painfully.

“Huh?”

“…was… “ The guard paused to get some breath. “…was…Blanchett…”

“You mean…?” Beverley said, surprised.

Scarlett nodded as much as she could. “…Blanchett… beat me… tried… kill… Summer…  “

The agent returned the nod and rested a hand on Scarlett’s arm.

“…Cate… psycho… she did… this….” Scarlett sighed and closed her eyes. She was asleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

“The patient isn’t exactly in the best condition for this,” Dr. Agyeman informed Kristen sternly.

Agent Bell raised an eyebrow to that. “She was more than willing to consult with the warden during the escape, Doctor. If she can talk, I’ll talk with her.”

“Suit yourself, but I’m not leaving the room,” Freeman said, matching Kristen’s expression. For some reason, Bell found the stubborn doctor incredibly hot in that moment. Under other circumstances…

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"I'll wait outside," Tammin said, in a bid to not antagonise the doctor any further, and moved away.

“Grace Park, computer hacker, and illustrious member of the San Francisco Eight,” Kristen said, moving past Agyeman and towards her patient.

“Nice to be known, I guess,” Grace muttered through the oxygen mask over her mouth. One eye was completely swollen shut, the other was black and blue, matching a number of bruises up and down her arms and legs. A little over 12 hours ago, maybe 13, Grace had been beaten to a pulp by her former partners in crime just prior to their successful escape from Remy Hadley. An escape Grace had helped plan and execute.

“Here’s what I don’t get, Grace - you fully admit you helped plant a computer virus that let your little group escape from this joint. So what’d you do to piss them off and make them leave you behind?” Kristen asked.

“I made one too many passes at the straight blonde,” Grace mumbled between split lips.

“They left you behind, Park - why are you protecting them?”

“You’re going to find them. They’ll be back,” the prisoner said.

“True, true,” Kristen said, pacing around Park’s bed. “But then, you won’t, will you?”

“Huh?”

“Your file contains an interesting little piece of information you might not have heard yet, Park. You’re getting transferred. To the Valerii Kalakaua minimum security prison in Hawaii.”

“First I’m hearing of it,” Grace muttered.

“Really? Funny, how your transfer date was listed as tomorrow, exactly two days after the rest of your crew had planned on escaping.”