Edward had seen the seventh circle of hell (a long story for a later time), and it was a fairly unpleasant place. Somewhat hot. He had kind of wished he had thought to bring one of those portable, hand-held fans with him. It was a rather disagreeable sort of joint, made more so by the brief thought that while one of those stupid wolves could stand in the snow and not get cold, the fact that he couldn't walk through fire and not get hot was just plain unfair.
The seventh circle of hell had nothing on the DMV.
"Department of Monstrous Vultures," he suggested dully. Bella lolled her head up from its position on his shoulder to fix him with a rather blank stare.
"Not bad enough. Department of Murderous Vandals?" The brown flecked, industrial tile floor had managed to suck even the inflection out of her voice-- not content to simply stop time, but put a stopper on all excitement, stifle happiness and all emotion besides, and generally piss a person (or vampire) off. She could have just told him she was pregnant and that Carlisle/Emmett/Jasper/Mr. Banner was the father and Edward couldn't have even managed to get excited.
He sighed. "Nah…" Edward repositioned himself, trying to get as comfortable as possible on the hard tile floor while Bella checked their number for the twenty-second time (yes, he had been counting). Not that the hard metal chairs were much better. But they we all filled up by other people looking as bored as they were, so it was a bit of a moot point.
Bella jiggled her foot, and Edward could tell she was playing Name-The-Person, by the expression on her face. The game they had invented half an hour or so ago (it could have been longer), when the battery on his cell phone ran out and they couldn't play Tetris anymore. It basically consisted picking some random, unfortunate loser like themselves and giving them a name. Something along the lines of Lonely-Jock-Kid, Fake-Looking-Chick, Soap-Opera-And-Bon-Bons, or Male-Pattern-Baldness.
Edward started banging his head against the wall. If he was lucky, maybe he could beat himself unconscious. After all, who wouldn't want to? You certainly would when assailed over and over and over by the same thought of, 'I'm… so… bored… Neerrruugghhh...'
So he told Bella of this plan, because it wasn't like anyone was listening or he had anything better to do. Her interest seemed mildly piqued. "So they actually think 'uuuunnnngghh?'"
Edward shook his head. It took a lot of effort to move lately. "Yes, but no. It's more like 'nnnneeegguurrhh.'"
Bella nodded. It seemed like it took her a lot of effort too, so he was a little gladdened by that fact.
She continued. "Oh, so more like 'nneerrruuggh.'"
"Precisely." Edward moved onto more enlightening matters. Like crushing those annoying little mini half-pencils to dust. But his vindictive streak was not quite satisfied by simple pleasures like destroying such cheap government property, and it only left him a bit more angry. Angry as in Hmm-Maybe-I-Should-Burn-The-White-House-Yawn-Too-Much-Trouble…
The computer-generated voice droned out that number one-hundred-thirty-three was up. The way that all the vowels sounded the same was vaguely unsettling. Kind of like walking in a dark rat-infested barn, or having someone else's saliva dripping on the back of one's neck.
Only sixty five people left to go.
Bella absently reminisced about her first trip to the DMV, and how she went to use the eye test and the foam pad where your forehead went was stained bright yellow, while Edward seethed as much as one can in a funk state as strong as his.
"Whatever little punk decided that it was a good idea to 'borrow' our wallets during the assembly is going to pay. Painfully. In a limb-rendering sort of way."
Bella gave the closest she had ever come to an evil smile, and Edward contented himself with thoughts of revenge and ripping her clothes off and having her right there on the tile floor (because he highly doubted that anyone could even draw themselves out of their stupor enough to notice). But soon that even became too much trouble.
Luckily, Bella picked then to point to the only visible aberration to the surplus beige paint covering the high walls. "Why did they frame that ugly of a poster? Because if their plan was to not offend anyone of any religion, creed, race or sexual orientation, they have really failed."
The poster was indeed offensive. It hung almost randomly in the middle of the very large wall, and was the only decoration in the entire room. A delightfully inane babbling brook was pictured under the caption of, "Spring is the renewal of the world." Hell, it was an insult to art everywhere to put this drivel in a frame. Further inspection revealed that there was another matching poster suspended behind the fat woman running the second station up front.
Bella got another, slightly maniacal grin. "I bet you can't steal that thing without getting caught."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're on."
The following feat of athletic achievement was one for the ages. Edward moved so fast that all the security cameras caught was a brief flicker. He was even faster than that time he prevented Bella from being squished by an old van. Or the time she almost got squished by a runaway pickup the following summer. Or when Emmett was chasing after him after he stole Rosalie's (Emmett's) favorite lingerie on a prank back in 1973. Or when both he and Emmett stole Alice's "Naughty Toy Box" and discovered that if
Edward was a mountain lion and Emmett was an irritated grizzly, then Jasper was somewhere along the lines of some genetically altered and pissed off, rabid… well, it was best not to go into details on that one.
He had been lucky to survive that encounter. The stakes were not near as high this time, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. Even jail (not that it wouldn't be easy to escape, but a criminal record didn't do wonders for someone trying to remain anonymous) would be an improvement over this place. They got TV.
Within a matter of seconds both paintings were stacked in the back of Bella's pickup, and the electronic read out and voice had been tampered with so that they were next Less than five minutes later, (give or take a few time-consuming forms and much flashing of alternative identification), they were assured that replacement licenses would be put in the mail, and arrive in a week (month) or two.
Edward drove the truck home, telepathic mind absently searching for any police officers that might be in the area. Not like anyone was going to pull him over, at the speed he was going. The only chance he had at a ticket was going too slow. Although that had happened once. Bella would not be hearing the end of it until he finally convinced her to take possession of the BMW he bought her last month and had done nothing but sit in Emmett's share of the garage.
Waking to reality was a slow process, as their minds adjusted to the fact that there was, in fact, life outside that moved and breathed and hadn't progressed a hundred years while they were trapped.
"So… what are you planning on doing with those things?"
Edward allowed himself a slightly maniacal snicker. "Give me a few more minutes. I haven't thought of anything unpleasant enough."
A/N: Again, edited by Lomesir, who is, again, the best person ever. Very much so. Because this was a piece of CRAP with terrible grammar before my lovely beta had their lovely way with it. You couldn't even see the margins for all the comments. –more love-