“So… we’ve got another assignment, today…” Churchill began, in a soft, paternal voice, as he gently dabbed a wet cloth against his team mate’s burning brow, “It’s a hell of a job.”
“Hmmn?”, Eva probed in response, through a weary, dreamy groan.
She’d spent most of last night sedated, and had been conscious for barely an hour.
“Well, since you asked so articulately, Madame Shakespeare-”
Weakly, a clammy hand- pallid and slicked with sweat- rose slowly into the air, and poised to strike…
Before resting, quite misleadingly, against Church’s cheek.

He winced: He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice.
“What’s…” she began, ailing, “What’s this?”
“Nothing,” he replied, flashing her the most charismatic smile he could muster with a swollen cheek, as if that might somehow contradict the verdict of Eva’s own eyes.
“Is… is this a bruise, Church?”
“What? No. What? You’re crazy!”

It was a bruise, alright, and then some: A shiner, clean and true.
It throbbed at least two agonising centimetres from his jaw, and was a worryingly deep shade of inky dark-orchid.

It was true, Churchill had won his boxing match with Escuela through and through: But that didn’t mean it’d been easy.
On the contrary; The two had littered one another with a flurry of lead blows; Painted each other black, blue and crimson, and worn themselves down to bone of their knuckles in the process.
It’d been a war of attrition, and in the end Churchill had only come through with a final uppercut the likes of which had- in some desolate, depraved crevice of this city- made Roark himself half stir from his slumber.

But the victory had only been moral: Physically, he felt as if he harboured the world’s most unforgiving hangover, the likes of which would require the mother of all prairie oysters to mend.
And worse yet, it wasn’t just him who’d taken a beating: The resultant knock-out of Church’s final punch had stirred the crowd into a frenzy, and a riot broke out throughout the gym.
It was quickly controlled by Sectors V and X, but not without a few scuffs and scrapes along the way.
Still, Church wagered he was amongst the worst for wear.

Most of his bruises were below his shirt, fortunately… but it was hard to obscure the most prominent of them, because it’d landed on his left cheek and left behind a most opaque and overt shadow.
He’d hoped that Eva would be blind to it, once medicated…
And, it seemed, he’d been wrong.

“It is!”, she declared, seemingly made lucid by the realisation.
“Listen, Eva, I can-!”
Smack
Clatter
Churchill hurtled quite suddenly from his seat, and to the floor, clasping his wounded cheek as a fresh handprint pulsated against his bruises.
He hissed bitterly through his teeth, in some effort to defuse the pain, and rolled across the sterile, aged tiles of the hospital floor.
“Agh! Jesus! Why?!”
“Because you’re an idiot! You promised you wouldn’t fight that match!”
“Sorry, what? I can’t hear anything over my own internal screaming!”

Sighing, Eva shook her head disappointedly towards him, as he clambered wearily back into his seat at her bedside.
“What am I going to do with you, Gunner?”
“Stop hitting me?”
“Man up.”
“Man down.”

The two scowled at one another for one long, spiteful moment, before looking away in indignant silence.
Soon, however, the stinging in Church’s cheek faded into naught more than a dull throb, and the annoyance in Eva’s face softened.
“Tell me about the mission,” she eventually muttered, albeit without turning to face him.
“Cultists”, he replied quietly.
“Cultists?”
“Yeah… they’re immune, like us. Except they think it’s a gift from God, or something: That it makes them the master race, or… something to that effect.”
“So, they’re like us?”
“No,” he shook his head, “We’re Runners, a community founded upon the idea that we should nurture others like us.”
“And they…?”
“Sacrifice them, usually. Runners especially… they call us ‘heretics!’”
“My God!”, she called, attempting to sit upright in indignation, before Church pushed her back down again.
She growled lightly in response, but obeyed his wishes all the same.

“So…” she began, having taken a few short breaths, “Who did they…”
“Sector H.”
“Damn… the medics?”
He nodded solemnly, finally turning back to her with a softened expression of his own, “They faked a distress call… bagged them somewhere to the West of us.”
“God… who are these guys?”
“They call themselves something in Latin, it’s ridiculous. The kind of thing your typical ‘edgy’ teenager would say.”
“Tabula Rasa?”
“Bingo!”
“My next guess would’ve been carpe diem.”
Church smiled sportively, “Well, I’ve just taken to calling them ‘Stupid’. How do I say ‘Stupid’ in Latin?”
“Plumbeus,” she replied, without missing a beat.

There was a pause, before Church’s smile curled into a teasing grin, “You’re such a nerd.”
“Shut up, and help me out of bed.”

By the time the two had managed to hobble their way into Sundown’s courtyard, the mid-morning sun had already begun to climb the sky, and greeted them ardently as they paced out to meet a familiar- and for that fact alone, unwelcomed- figure.
MacReary awaited them in the piazza’s centre, his teal robes motionless despite the definite breeze that blew through Sundown’s cloisters and halls, and his hoary hair swept back in a manner most unstylish.
In one hand, he held a small, glowing slate- one of the last remnants of technology Sundown had to offer, a data-pad on which mission histories were stored- and in the other, a small leather satchel.

Church and Eva sighed in unison, as they made their approach: They walked like dead men, they looked like dead men.
Their joints ached, and with Eva’s arm slung over his shoulders, she and Church looked as though they’d just finished the mission, as opposed to having only just arrived to start it.
MacReary seemed un-phased by this: Or pleased, honestly it was hard to tell.

“Gunner,” he greeted, gelidly.
“MacReary.”
“You’re looking well.”
“You’re sounding snarky.”
The Elder smiled wryly, before handing Churchill his data pad, which he in turn handed to Eva, before gesturing to the bag MacReary held in his right hand.
“That better be painkillers.”
“Some of it is painkillers. Some of it, antibiotics… none of it yours.”
“Then whose is it?”
“Well, with Sundown’s chief medical officers currently held captive, I thought it sensible to send a separate medic with you… a doctor for the doctors, so to speak.”
“A medic? Who the hell are you talking about, old man?”
“Oh, have you not met?”

MacReary took a step to the side, and- with his robes still otherwise totally stationary- gestured backwards.
In his shadow stood some delicate- and only vaguely familiar- figure, whom Church eyed sceptically.
“I’m sorry, I must have missed the memo that said you were suddenly in charge of my team, old man.”
“Ah, silly me, I must not have passed it on: Did you at least get the memo that explains that I’m an Elder?”
“Ah, I remember that one: I think Marina blew her nose on it.”
“Well, you know what they say about snot nosed children.”
“That you put them into Sector Y?”

Both Church and MacReary opened their mouths to protest the other, before Eva’s elbow quickly reminded Church’s ribs- and thus, the rest of him- that a new recruit was spectating them.
With a pensive sigh, Churchill turned to face her: Acacia was somebody he felt as though he’d met before, albeit fleetingly.
Perhaps, on one of many trips to the infirmary.
He raised a hand- The hand which wasn’t propping both himself and Eva up- and gave her a two-fingered, Polish salute, “Welcome aboard, I’m Churchill Gunner.”

MacReary handed Acacia her satchel- which, amongst other things, contained a trio of tranquilising needles, intended for ending combat without fatalities- before turning his attention solely to Sector V’s somewhat beaten-up leaders.
“And the rest of your Sector is…?”

Straightening up, Church craned his neck slightly, and lifted his chin to the sky.
“Sector V!”, he bellowed- motivated slightly by the fact that the gesture also defused the pain- “Front and centre!”

No black eyes. No bruised cheeks. No lost teeth. Klaus watched himself nod in the mirror, satisfied that he didn’t have any visible bruises after yesterday – The worst thing anyone could see was that his hair was a bit disheveled. He had a couple of bruises under his shirt, but it wasn’t anything he wanted people to worry about; not like it was as bad as what Church had. He grabbed a bottle of water and took a quick swig.
Yesterday had been a crazy one, alright. When Church swung the last punch and dropped that Spaniard all hell broke loose in that gym. It was like a full-blown riot; and most of it seemed to be uncomfortably focused toward Sector V. Even Klaus couldn’t escape a couple of people who seemed to have a bone to pick with him – Something about girlfriends and fan clubs? He didn’t have a clue what they were talking about, but whenever he told them that, it just seemed to make them angrier. In the end Klaus just figured it was too much effort and stopped trying to decipher it. After fixing his hair up, Klaus grabbed his coat, flung it on and left for the courtyard: He had a feeling he was needed…

Duck. Weave. Left hook. Right hook. Bright and early, Marina was already downstairs beating away at her punching bag. The gym was even emptier than usual today, no doubt used to the aftermath of yesterday’s match. After that, the gym was probably the last place anyone wanted to think about. But Marina felt differently – That match ignited her spirit! The way Church moved, the way he struck with such grace; and that last punch was absolutely amazing! Marina had barely been able to sleep last night; she was filled with such burning determination to train. However, even Marina had her limits, and she was soon panting away, sweat rolling down her skin. She looked up at the clock and let out a breath – No time for a shower, it seemed. She had to go and see how Church and Eva were doing, after all! As she rushed out, she grabbed a towel and patted herself down with it.

The two met up along the way, with Klaus telling Marina about his eerily specific hunch that Church was in the courtyard. So the two made their way to the plaza centre – When they saw Church, Eva and MacReary, it was just in time to see Church lift his chin to the sky and yell “Sector V! Front and centre!” The two shot into action, rushing to his side and posing with a hand in one pocket and the other outstretched and pointing.
“You called?”

Compared to some of the walking bruises that she’d seen limping around Sundown, Kenna considered herself to be quite well off after the incident after Church’s fight. But she was definitely never getting involved in a riot again – not that she ever planned to anyway.

Surprisingly, Kenna sort’ve enjoyed watching Church fight. She couldn’t even explain it. She was never much good at fighting, but she knew talent when she saw it. Within minutes of the fight commencing, Kenna found herself to be cheering Church on until her voice was hoarse with the rest of Sector V. Then he gave the perfect knock-out punch that, Kenna thought, must have left his knuckles raw.

Then the riot happened.

The riot after the fight between Church and the Spanish guy, whose name Kenna never learnt, was Hell. People were rushing around everywhere, pushing and shoving and fighting and throwing punches without much care for who was on the receiving end. Kenna herself, as reluctant as she was to fight, got caught in a few scraps. Thankfully, she was usually able to weave through the crowd to find either Klaus or Henry or someone who could actually take care of themselves so that at least she had back-up if she was in over her head. Despite her evasive manoeuvres, Kenna still found herself with a cut on her left temple about the length of her little finger, which must have been caught on someone’s ring or possibly a watch, and a spectacular bruise on her right arm that was a kaleidoscope of colours – purple, blue, green and even a spot of yellow. Kenna had no idea who hit her, but the blow literally knocked her off her feet. Thankfully, the angry grapefruit-size bruise was high up enough of her arm that only half an inch or so of colour was showing beneath her sleeve, she just had to hope that no one would comment on it.

Since the riot had calmed and she was sure she had no orders to fulfil, Kenna wandered around Sundown on her own without purpose. She had nothing to do and she, for once, decided that she was too tired and achy to train, so she figured she may as well trying and get better at memorizing the lay-out.

So far, not going too well. Kenna had no idea where she was.

I really hope we have nothing important to do, she thought as she dodged around a group of older Runners trying to get past her, God, I can just imagine that. We get the first mission since I’ve joined Sector V and I miss it.

Though the thought occurred to her as a joke, the anxious fear stirred in her stomach and she picked up the pace, trying to find someone she recognised. If she actually missed something important, not only would she be letting down the entire team, but she’d also probably get Church in trouble with the likes of MacReary for not having a full team. Trouble for Church was trouble for the team, and she really didn’t want these people to hate her already.

Ahead of her, Klaus and Marina disappeared around the corner. Relief washed through her and she had to prevent herself from grovelling to them.

Jogging to catch up to them, Kenna turned the corner and saw Church with MacReary – Speak of the Devil and he shall appear, she thought with a snicker – standing in a courtyard.

At the sight of the Elder, Kenna’s relief turned to wariness. Had she gotten the team in trouble after all? There’s no way they could’ve done a mission or something that important while she was out and about, right? What if-

“Sector V! Front and centre!”

With apprehension stirring in her chest, Kenna made her way forward to stand with the semi-assembled Sector, distractedly pulling her sleeve down over her bruise as she stopped just off to the side behind Klaus and Marina.

“Um. Hi- Hello.”

God that sounded lame.

Sent them a soft smile and a wave just to be safe.

It had been a long night. Acacia was halfway into a yawn when she thought better of it, ducking her head abruptly as Elder MacReary’s gaze passed over her. She smiled sheepishly and offered a quiet apology. He said nothing. When he turned away from her, Acacia’s smile blossomed into a giddy grin, and she had to fight back a squeal of happiness: today was THE DAY. Thanks to the influx of patients who were injured in the brawl following Churchill Gunner’s fight, she had been up most of the night, but she could barely contain the energy that buzzed through her entire body. Even the Elder’s curt explanation of Sector V’s latest assignment (her first mission!), though briefly sobering, hadn’t kept her spirits down for long. This was it. She was ready.

Unfortunately, the rest of Sundown was apparently not so eager to get the day started.

It was already mid-morning when, peeking around Elder MacReary for what felt like the thousandth time, she spied two figures making their way across the courtyard. Even from a distance, she recognized one of the two as Churchill Gunner; though she had never met him personally, she was well aware of Sector V’s leader and his more.. distinctive features. The identity of the other, smaller figure wasn’t so clear. From the way they moved, anyone could tell that they were injured, and as they drew closer, Acacia saw that the girl -- whose face she now recognized, even if her name still eluded her -- was placing much of her weight on Churchill. Her heart sank a little. From what MacReary had told her, their mission was going to be difficult enough with everyone operating at full capacity. If they were going into this with preexisting injuries, they would really have their work cut out for them.

Churchill and the Elder exchanged greetings, followed quickly by jabs, then suddenly the attention was on her. Acacia opened her mouth to introduce herself, but before she could make a sound, Churchill had started in on MacReary again. She would have to watch out for that temper.

Mercifully, Eva halted the hostilities with a well-placed elbow, and Acacia held back a chuckle. She shot her an appreciative smile before bringing her attention back to Churchill.

“Acacia Ridder, glad to be here. It’s an honor --” She paused as she reached out to accept the satchel from MacReary, realizing she might be gushing a little. “Um, it’s nice to meet you. Both of you,” she said, smiling at both the Sector V leaders as she slung her precious cargo over one shoulder.

When Churchill threw his head back and barked his order, Acacia felt a chill run the length of her spine, and she lifted her chin slightly, unconsciously mirroring his posture. As if they had already known their leader needed them, the members of Sector V began to assemble. She couldn’t help but admire how in sync they all seemed to be, and pride and anticipation swelled within her at the thought that she was now a part of it all.

For once Melanie hadn’t taken part of a fight. Instead she had kept herself hidden within the darkness of the shadows at the very edge of the room; shielded from view by the wall of Runners in front of her and the darkness around her. At first she wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do - she still felt oh so lost, like she had missed the last train at an unknown station: she didn’t know what she was supposed to do with her life. Sitting with her back against the wall, her dark hoodie blending her frame into the shadows and her hands tightly wrapped around her bend knees, she lost herself in this sea of empty misery only to find herself gaining consciousness when the last fist hit last piece of meat: she had skipped through the whole fight - and now that people was slowly making their way out of the hall that had just moments ago been filled with the sounds of battle was now only filled with the hustling and moaning of the wounded making their way towards the exits.

Most people would find it naturally to follow the ‘herd’: get up and make their way out with the crowd. Humans are, after all, flock animals and as such they find comfort in their numbers. Melanie however wasn’t like that; she didn’t feel any safer within a group - she was safer by herself. This meant that unlike the rest she didn’t find her ‘friends’, instead she stayed in the shadows, watching the remains of her sector slowly make their way out of the room, the victors of the battle.
“Stupid…” she muttered under her breath as she followed the rest of Sector V with her eyes as they made their way out of the room. Finally when the door had swallowed them she lowered her head to rest her it against her arms, using her knees as support. “What a stupid bunch…” she echoed again before she lost herself to the serenity of sleep.

She woke up bright and early at the crack of dawn. It wasn’t the sun that had woken her, instead it was another sector making their way towards the dining hall. It wasn’t surprising: Runners usually got up before the crack of dawn, they had to be prepared and ready - and most of them referred to Run when the air was colder and the city was still asleep beneath their feet. Annoyingly this meant that individuals such as Melanie that slept in random places couldn’t get much peace before the life in Sundown started to flutter with life.

Grumbling meaningless profanities she lifted her stiff body up from the dirty floor. It amazed her that she had been able to sleep somewhat comfortable against the cold wall - it wasn’t exactly the epitome of comfort after all. Sighing heavily as she stretched her body before dusting off her dirty clothes, the clouds of dust made it clear to her that she sorely needed a bath - and as she looked herself in the cracked mirror after she had made her way to the bath-areas her wounded, blood covered face only made this so much clearer.

“Damn,” she grumbled as she tried to hold in another wave of profanities, “Father really didn’t hold back, did he?”

Shaking her head she got herself under the shower - the water wasn’t anywhere near warm, but it felt heavenly against her dust- and blood-covered skin, and as this was washed away from her brown skin, so was her soreness and her fatique. After she had finished her (somewhat) tasty breakfast she almost felt reborn: she could feel her muscles crave the exercise they usually got and her cheeky personality had started to stir awake inside of her. She could feel her usual grin starting to form. She craved some fun.

With this in mind she started to make her way towards the main hall, if she wanted to find the rest of Sector V the hall would be the perfect place to start - and if that failed there was always the subject of ‘Church’ that the bedridden Eva could be teased with. Sadly this possibility didn’t occur: as she made her way towards the main area she spotted two familiar silhouettes making a turn around a corner, with a similar well-known silhouette in tow.

Well I guess I won’t need to go search for the rest Mel thought to herself as she headed in the same direction as the others. As she made her way around the corner she saw the others, however they weren’t alone. Together with them was two other persons: a female and-

Elder MacReary

The thought came with a sour taste in her mouth, she had never liked nor trusted this man - he was at the very top of the Runner-world and therefore he was also one of the most dangerous one’s. She was sure that he could see right through her, and because of this she always felt a sense of nervousness whenever she was around him; what would she do if he found out?

She stopped in the middle of a step. Found out. She had bruises covering her face, could she make them believe that they were just wounds from last night’s fight? But remembering how they had appeared in the mirror earlier Melanie didn’t feel so comfortable about that; to most they might appear fresh, but if someone knew a little about wounds it would be apparent that the bruises on her cheeks and lips weren’t something that she had gained just six to eight hours ago. Licking these same lips she thought about her situation: could she stay away?

No you idiot, she told herself, it would be even more suspicious if you didn’t show up.
Taking a deep breath in through her mouth she cleared her mind and took the first step towards the group, her familiar cheeky grin well painted on her face as she made her way towards the small group of Runners.

“My god!” she exclaimed when she came closer, hoping her voice sounded normal, “would you look at you guys - you look completely beaten to a pulp!” Grinning, this time for real, she winked at Eva, “I see you’re doing better, though well done getting Church all for y-”

She shut her mouth abruptly as she felt the atmosphere, clearly the usual frictions was in place whenever Church and MacReary were in the same room. However this wasn’t the only thing that caught Mel’s attention, no a certain smell had filled the air. Shifting her focus to the woman next to MacReary - the stench of medical-cleanliness oozed from her, something that most people wouldn’t notice, but Melanie had always been sensitive to that smell, ever since…

Focus! She commanded herself, glancing at Acacia as her mind continued asking questions. Who is she? Do I know her from somewhere - and why is she here…?

Somehow he had known. As soon as he was told about the fight transpiring between Church and a Runner from Sector Y, Henry knew it would descend into some sort of trouble. That's why he had brought his trusty crowbar. The fight itself went along calmly enough, as much as boxing matches can. Sure there was the occasional banter matches between opposing supporters, but nothing massively bad. Henry, being the quiet mild-mannered man he was, chose not to get involved. But his eyes were mainly fixed on Sector Y instead of the bout.

Still, when it all did kick off, as he felt it eventually would, he barely moved. In fact, he tried not to get involved. This went well until he saw some bastard right hook Kenna on her arm and send her clattering to the floor. At that point Henry threw himself wholly into the fray, barreling through the hysteria just to reach the culprit, instantly delivering a cracking strike to their rib cage upon getting close enough. The poor guy never saw it coming. His friend, however, had, and proceeded to thump Henry in the left eye. And surely enough it had left a bruise. That was nothing compared to the dislocated shoulder Henry had left him with though. As the riot raged on, Henry found himself with a split lip and ringing ear. But he hurtled on regardless, like a bull in a china shop, swinging his crowbar wildly. As things calmed down he had to be restrained in order to stop, apparently kicking and growling (though he doesn't remember that part). But stop he eventually did, panting wildly.

Henry was lucky. Had his rampage occurred in a smaller riot it would have been more noticeable. But the sheer scale of the brawl hid his little spree from most people, except for those effected or those who might care to keep an eye on him. And so, the next day, Henry simply got on with his simple routine. His left eye was now surrounded by a lovely purple circle, his lip was still split, his nose covered by a bandage and his ear still ringing a little. But aside from that he couldn't complain. It was strange, he thought, how calm everything was so suddenly afterward, as if no-one was holding a grudge against anyone anymore. That probably wouldn't last though. It never did.

As he busied himself with some rudimentary cleaning and a little bit of a training warm-up, Henry's ears picked up the distinctive tones of his Sector leader bellowing out. The man's head perked up, as a dog's might when its owner whistles. In a matter of seconds Henry had dropped what he was doing and bounded out of their living quarters. He arrived, albeit in last place again, in time to see two unfamiliar faces joining their little group. Silently he stalked up to the side of the rest of his Sector and stood rigidly, his cap shadowing the top half of his face, trusty face mask hanging limply around his neck and jacket undone. Henry shot some curious glances around, trying to see how much damage had been done to his teammates during the previous day's fiasco, before finally settling on Church.

He awaited news of their new purpose.

[Captain]

Church’s countenance was solemn for a moment, but softened substantially when he realized that Acacia was still there.
“Haha, but hey, why worry? We’ve got our own medic with us. Hell, I almost feel bad for the enemy.”
He took his hand from his face, and flashed Acacia a good-natured thumbs up, “Congratulations, you’ve just been assigned the most accident prone Sector in Sundown. You are going to be getting a lot of practice!”

Then, he returned to his senior Sector members, and smiled sheepishly.
“R’n’R, huh? Well, time or no, I don’t think we really have much of a choice…” he chuckled, almost embarrassedly, “We’re, uh… we’re sort of banged up. I think a shower is the least we deserve.”
He moved his hand downwards, and pressed it protectively against his ribs.
Following this, he scowled at Eva, although it was fairly obvious the gesture wasn’t intended to be too malicious, “Although, keep that up and it’ll be you carrying me to the medical bay, you follow?”
He maintained eye contact for a few seconds, before eventually rescinding that attitude, and turning both himself and Eva around.
“But first thing’s first. C’mon, Raggedy Anne, let’s go find you some clothes.”
And with that, he began pacing towards Sundown’s interior. However, before getting more than half-way across the plaza, he paused, and threw a glance over his shoulder.
“Hey, Marina? Show Acacia the ropes, will you? You’re the best, after all.”
And with that, he said no more, and continued onwards.

[Prince]

Marina grinned proudly, folding her arms and puffing her chest out, "Heheh, good choice!" Turning to Acacia, she thrust her finger out to point at her, "Alright, you're gonna be under my command! I'm gonna train you brutally but efficiently," she put her hands on her hips, "You shall refer to me as Ms. Marina, Marina the Best, or Commander Hoffen! Are there any questions, Acacia?"

[Berry]

Marina’s energy took Acacia by surprise. The rest of Sector V was in pretty bad shape -- it looked like “most accident prone sector in Sundown” wasn’t said in jest -- but this girl seemed pretty fiery. Eyes wide, she glanced at Churchill’s back as he walked away, then back at Marina, trying to size her up in the couple of seconds it took to tighten the chest strap that kept her pack from moving too much. “No questions,” she said, hoping her apprehension didn’t come out in her voice. “Ms. Marina,” she added for good measure, “the Best. Ma’am.” Acacia spread her feet slightly, knees loose, not really sure what to expect.

[Prince]

"Ja, right then! First thing you should know is that even I wouldn't be egoistical enough to make you refer to me as Marina the Best," She giggled with a grin, her posture significantly loosening up as she simply slipped her hands into the pockets of her dress, "Relax, we're all equals. We'll take this at a pace that works with you, everyone was new once." Marina held a hand out for shaking with a bright smile, "I don't know if we've been properly acquainted yet or not, my mind tends to wander, eheh. Marina Hoffen, at your service!"

[Berry]

Acacia stepped forward to shake Marina’s hand, her face relaxing into a characteristic -- and relieved -- smile. “Acacia Ridder,” she replied, “nice to meet you. I’ve seen you before, but we’ve never really met.” As she drew her hand back, she shrugged off the leather satchel MacReary had given her and set it off to one side. “So what’s the plan?” she asked, reaching up to twist her hair into a tighter bun as she spoke.

[Prince]

Marina nodded thoughtfully as she slid her hand back into her pocket, "Ja, ja… Makes sense! Though from what I've been told, most people hear me long before they see me," She chuckled sheepishly, "Right, the plan is to practice running and combat! At the very least you'll need one of them to get through our next mission. Hopefully it'll be the running. Still, it's best to go over both just in case! Now…" Marina put a hand on her chin in deep thought, "What would be free now… Well, it's still pretty early, so the gym should be nice and empty. After that incident yesterday, no one seems that eager to do a bit of training. But oh well, empty's just how we need it!" Marina nodded firmly, "So combat first. How's that sound?"

[Berry]

"Sounds good. Though I might be a little rusty," Acacia cautioned, picking up the satchel and swinging it right back onto her shoulder. Might as well get used to the damn thing, she thought as she lifted the strap over her head, fidgeting with it until it was nestled tightly below her red pack. She shot Marina a wry smile when she finally got it into place, and they headed out of the courtyard and wound their way through the corridors, eventually coming to the gym -- which, just as Marina had predicted, was completely empty. "I don't come here too often," Acacia said as she looked around the room. "It's not really my forte."

[Prince]

"I come here every morning!" Marina replied proudly, punching at the air, "I practise my boxing every day. Don't feel you have to though, I'm just kinda weird," Marina chuckled, striding further in and turning on the ball of her foot as she splayed her hands in the direction of the punching bag, "This is the punching bag I always use, so it's definitely not defective. Now, just for curiosity's sake, how much do you know about fighting? You have a specific style you prefer?"

[Berry]

"Is avoidance a style?" Although she said it with a playful smile, in all honesty, Acacia knew almost nothing about fighting, especially when it came to being on the offensive. She walked around the bag slowly, trying to visualize a person, imagining what might be a good spot to strike, but it just didn't click. When she came around to where Marina was standing, an idea struck. A terrible idea, maybe, but an idea nonetheless. "I don't know if I'd be too good at this," she began, laying one hand on the punching bag as she spoke, "but what if we sparred? Think you'd totally outclass me?"

[Prince]

Marina tilted her head in thought, "Hmm… That's a pretty gut idea! We haven't got all the time in the world, so trial by fire may be essential," She nodded firmly and thrust her hand forward in a thumbs up, "Alright, let's spar!" Marina went over and climbed into the ring, looking over the ropes with a smile, "Need help getting up? The ropes can be a bit tough to climb."

[Berry]

Without a word, Acacia followed Marina over to the ring, lifted herself up onto the platform, and slipped nimbly between the ropes, holding up her thumb and forefinger in an "O.K." as she went to stand opposite the other runner. At least there were some things she was good at. She slid one foot back, turning her body so that she faced Marina at an angle, and bent her elbows loosely. "Try to go easy on me," she said only half-jokingly, "we need at least one person without any bruises on this mission."

[Prince]

Marina chuckled with a wide grin, "Don't worry! I don't have my gloves on," She stretched quickly, before dropping into a fighting stance; her hands balled into fists, leaning in slightly as she swayed left and right, "Alright! Werden wir tanzen?" She grinned.

[Berry]

"Ja," Acacia shot back mischievously, her eyes sparkling as she took a step to her left. She kept her eyes trained on Marina as she moved, examining her stance, trying to glean as much information as possible from her fists, her posture, the way her feet were placed. At this point, Acacia was making it up as she went along; but she thought she knew enough about the human body to stand a chance. She took another step, placing her foot lightly, making sure to keep her weight evenly distributed. Breathe in -- two, three -- on the exhale, Acacia darted forward and to the right, aiming a quick jab at Marina's left side.

[Prince]

She thought quickly, Marina had to give her that - She thought well on her feet, and she seemed to glean quite a lot simply from watching someone's stance. Marina had to jump into action to weave around her strike, before returning with a right jab directed toward Acacia's right arm. The young German was trying her hardest to keep her fists quick but light; however, her muscle memory was making that a hard play. She was far too used to swinging fists covered in those weighted gloves.

[Berry]

Acacia realized too late that by coming in so close to her opponent, she had left herself wide open, and Marina's jab landed easily, though perhaps not as squarely as intended. Still, the blow knocked Acacia off balance, and she spun, barely righting herself rather clumsily at the last moment. She wasn’t used to being hit; the shock and frustration brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked hard, giving her head a sharp shake to clear it. Her right arm began to ache as she stepped forward again, then to her right, keeping her elbows close to her torso, waiting for Marina to make the first move this time.

[Prince]

Marina simply paced around Acacia, seemingly sizing her up. This tension, waiting for someone to make the first move… It reminded Marina of her fight with Tabitha. Staring into that Omega's sharp eyes, waiting for her to strike so she could pull her supreme counter move… Marina had to suppress a grin. Still she simply paced, swaying left and right gently, before suddenly ducking to the right and striking with a left hook.

[Berry]

If it hadn't been for the tiniest twitch at the corners of Marina's mouth, Acacia wouldn't have had a clue what was coming. But that little tell put her on alert, and she managed to step back in time, swatting rather pointlessly at Marina's fist as it breezed past her. Thinking quickly, though perhaps not clearly, Acacia darted around to Marina's left, turned on the ball of her foot, and aimed an open palmed strike at the back of her left shoulder.

[Prince]

The attack landed quite firmly, but Marina laughed, a wide and cheerful grin on her lips, "Hah, sehr gut, Acacia, sehr gut! You don't let a thing by, do you?" She quickly spun around to face her opponent and, oddly enough, hopped backwards. With barely a second between the two actions, Marina then moved in with a quick right straight aimed at Acacia's shoulders, "How about this?"

[Berry]

Reacting on instinct alone, Acacia flinched back, upper body moving independently of the lower: while her torso drew away, her feet remained planted, and she found herself off balance once again. Though she successfully avoided the attack, her momentum continued to carry her backward, and she landed squarely on her ass.

[Prince]

Marina chuckled, "Eheh, sorry about that. I try and hold back, but…" She went over and held a hand out to her, "I'll help you up. You're really gut at this, I can see what you mean when you said you were good with avoidance! You don't let a thing by, and you use that medical knowledge of yours to prima effect!" She smiled at her brightly, "You wanna keep on going?"

[Berry]

Blushing, Acacia took Marina's hand. "I'm not sure I want to see you at full steam," she returned with a laugh, "if that was you holding back. You're too much for me." Her blush spread to her ears when Marina complimented her, and she waved a hand dismissively, though deep down she was pleased. Acacia had to admit, she had done better than she expected; she was surprised to find that she did, indeed, want to continue, and she nodded eagerly. "Do we have time?"

[Prince]

Marina pulled her to her feet and playfully dusted off Acacia's shoulders, "Well, if you wanna keep going, then I wouldn't be one to say nein! It depends on how confident you are in your running abilities, you know? It's up to you, I may do the teaching, but you're the one doing the learning!"

[Berry]

"Let's do this a little longer, and then once you've thoroughly kicked my tail, we can move onto something I'm actually good at." At the moment, her desire to learn was blazing; but Acacia could feel the energy building up in her calves, knew it would soon snake its way up into her belly, and then her chest, becoming an ache that could only be soothed by the sound of feet slapping the pavement. For the time being, though, she tried to focus on the tast at hand. "Teach me how to punch properly."

[Prince]

"Ja, that sounds fair," Marina nodded sagely, before settling back into her stance, "Alright, punching. Now, something to know beforehand is that I fight using a pair of weighted gloves," She explained, "So I'm used to putting in a bit more strength than someone might need, just so I can actually strike quickly. Really, punching depends entirely on what kind of bow you're trying to land. A hook, for example, is something you'll want to put more strength into your arms than your fists," Marina struck Acacia in the side lightly with a right hook, "Feel how the fist is a little less… There, y'know?" Marina stepped back into place and patted a fist against her own chest, "Try it now, come at me with a hook. Keep in mind you can feint with a hook by going in the opposite direction, but for the most effective strike, you'll wanna lean into it. Give it a go!"

[Berry

As Marina demonstrated a right hook, Acacia tried to take in as much information as she could, her eyes darting from one point to the next on Marina's body. When she felt like she had a good idea of what to do, Acacia slid her feet into place, bent her knees slightly, and brought her fists up in front of her. One, two.. In one fluid motion, she shifted her weight to her right leg and brought her arm around, her fist landing, weakly, just below Marina's collar bone.

[Prince]

Marina nodded with a grin, flashing Acacia a thumbs up, "Perfect, perfect! Sehr gut, for sure! Now, lemme tell you about jabs and straights. A jab is just a quick strike, gut for taking advantage of a small moment of weakness," Marina struck her fist out sharply at Acacia's arm, though her fist landed surprisingly softly, "Like that. Think of it as kinda like a snake - A single quick, sharp strike. A straight, on the other hand, is gut for when an opponent is wide open. The perfect straight is when you pull your arm back," Marina pulled her arm back, balling her hand into a fist, "Set your feet on the ground," Marina shuffled her feet to keep herself steady, "And then strike!" She lashed out with a straight punch aimed at Acacia's chest, but once again it landed very softly, "For a straight, you want to focus on the energy in your hand and shoulders. Think of it as kinda like.. Uh… A slingshot! You pull it back, and then just let the part that'll hit do its thing," Marina chuckled with a grin, settling back into her usual stance, "Now, go on. First gimme a jab, and then a nice good straight!"

[Berry]

"Like a snake," Acacia repeated. She started to throw her left fist out, but stopped suddenly, pulling her arm back and hopping from one foot to the next for a moment to shake off the false start. Her eyes narrowed as she zeroed in on her target. Suddenly, her left shot out, striking Marina's right arm sharply. Acacia laughed breathlessly, eyes wide with surprise at her unexpected success. She allowed herself a brief moment to revel in the feeling, then shook her arms out, preparing for the next punch. Planting her feet firmly just like Marina had said, she pulled her left arm back, holding it much longer than would be practical in a real fight; then, as if releasing a spring, she flung her tightly balled fist at Marina's chest.. and missed. She stumbled forward as the blow barely grazed Marina's shoulder, immediately looking to the more experienced Runner for guidance. "What did I do wrong?" she asked, her disappointment painted all across her face.

[Prince]

Marina held Acacia steady with a chuckle, patting her shoulder, "Not much, don't worry! Your only problem was that when you pulled it off, you made more of a flinging motion," Marina explained, "It's alright, it's probably more my fault for explaining it badly. Heheh, I knew a slingshot would be nein gut as a comparison. Think of it more like…" Marina thought for a moment, before snapping her fingers, "A pinball machine! It's more like a pinball machine. You know how you pull it back, and then when you let go it snaps back and hits the ball? It's sort of like that. What you have to keep in mind is that it's called a straight for a reason - When you let the punch go, it has to go straight. Now go on, try it again! I know you can do this, that jab was sehr fantastisch!," Marina grinned with a sheepish giggle, rubbing her arm where Acacia's jab had landed, "Actually still sort of stings, heheh."

[Berry]

"Sorry!" Acacia reached for Marina's arm, placing her hand there gently before giving it a playful sock. "But I think you'll be okay," she laughed. Still smiling, she assumed her stance once again, this time favoring her right arm. Instead of simply mirroring what she had seen Marina do, Acacia paid close attention to the way her body felt with each small movement; as her right foot moved forward, she felt her left heel lift almost of its own accord, her upper body twisting as she leaned into the punch. Her movements were painfully slow, but she felt like she might actually be getting the hang of it. After several practice runs, she inhaled sharply and delivered a surprisingly solid -- though not exactly powerful -- punch to Marina's chest.

[Prince]

Marina was pushed back slightly by the surprising force behind the punch, "Oof! Gut, sehr gut!" Marina clapped with a wide smile, "You're really getting the hang of this, Acacia! That should be gut for the basics I think," Marina put her hands on her hips, "Shouldn't keep those legs waiting any longer! Ready to do some running?"

[Berry]

Already riding a slight high from their training thus far, Acacia grinned proudly and nodded, bouncing lightly from side to side. "Definitely! I know I'm gonna need a rinse after this.. Should we make our way to the showers?"

[Prince]

"Hmm… No reason not to!" Marina grinned back with a giggle, "The sparring was surprisingly intense. You know how to keep me on my feet, Acacia! If you aren't careful I might have to start waking you up at the same crazy early time I get up just so we can spar," Marina hoisted herself over the ropes and landed cleanly on the floor. She wiped some sweat from her forehead, letting out a sigh, "Whew! Ja, that's definitely catching up with me."

[Berry]

"I don't know if I'd mind that," Acacia said as she followed Marina, swinging herself under the ropes instead of over them. "I could certainly use the practice -- and you are the best, after all," she added with a playful wink. Tired though she may be, Acacia couldn't wait to get started on their run. She couldn't even seem to stand still. Anticipation beating out a steady rhythm in her chest, she cocked her head at Marina and asked, "Ready?"

[Prince]

Marina beamed with a firm nod, "Ja, I'm ready. Let's go and take a quick shower before we get running!" Marina made her way out of the gym, making sure Acacia was following. Along the way, she noticed two people rushing past them in the direction of the gym. Marina paused for a long moment, creasing her brow, "… Huh. Wass dast Church and bruder? I wonder what has them in such a hurry…" Shrugging with a sigh, she continued on, "Those two are just such weirdos sometimes." Soon, the pair reached the showers, "Here we are, the Sector V showers! They're like the other showers, but less annoying because Avery isn't there." Marina paused and grimaced, "Much less annoying."

[Berry]

Acacia chuckled. Just as Marina said, the Sector V showers didn't seem to be any different from those that Acacia usually frequented; but she couldn't shake the giddy feeling she got as she stepped over the threshold. It was just like the feeling she had gotten as she watched Sector V assemble that morning, a feeling of new beginnings, of being a part of something bigger than herself. It was a feeling she liked. Stepping behind one of the privacy walls, she undressed and showered quickly, her mind elsewhere as she went through all the familiar motions. Within minutes, she had dressed again and was roughly towelling her hair. Acacia was painfully aware of the tautness of her muscles; they needed to release, to stretch and push and strain. She hadn't run for a good twelve hours, and it was starting to drive her a little stir crazy. As she tied her damp and tangled hair up in a messy but secure bun, she turned to Marina and asked, "So what's our route?"

[Prince]

Marina's shower had managed to be even quicker than Acacia's - By the time Acacia had finished, Marina was already putting her ribbon back in her hair, "Our route? Mmm, well… We have zwei choices," Marina replied, checking her bow in the mirror with an almost odd care, "There's the car park over in Sector X - Don't worry, Frau Maggie's cool with letting me use it," With one last adjustment, she turned to Acacia, making a spinning motion with her finger, "Or there's the surrounding roof tops. I'd best warn you though, the car park would definitely be trial by feur, it's no tutorial run!"

[Berry]

"Let's stick to the rooftops," Acacia said, laughing lightly. "We want to be in one piece for the mission, right?"

[Prince]

Marina grinned with a chuckle and a nod, "Ja, das seems like a gut idea. Are you ready to go, or do you need to do anything else?"

[Berry]

In lieu of a verbal reply, Acacia began jogging in place, then slowly toward the door, a goofy grin on her face as she cocked her head in the direction she was moving.

[Prince]

Marina rolled her eyes, following her at a more restrained pace, "I'll take that as a ja, shall i?"

[Berry]

Acacia nodded vigorously, still grinning. She went a few more yards, giving her body a chance to warm up as she gradually lengthened her stride. When she hit a long, straight stretch of hallway, she took off, a happy warmth radiating out through her entire body before the runner's high even kicked in. When she ran like this, easy and free, her aches and woes simply dissolved, scattering behind her like dust.

[Prince]

Marina chuckled, breaking into a run after her, "Wow, you just can't wait!" She grinned, eventually catching up to her and following her pace, "Running really is great, isn't it? Things can get tough, but running just… It makes you feel like you've got everything under control. Like you really accomplished something that day…" Marina looked off wistfully, before grinning playfully, "Even if I totally haven't."

[Berry]

“Yeah,” Acacia puffed in agreement, “I know exactly what you mean. It’s like, no matter what life might throw at you, you’ve always got this outlet. If something’s bugging me, all I have to do is run, and it just fades away.” As she spoke, she ducked into a narrow stairwell that ended in a heavy steel door, behind which lay the rooftops of Sundown. The sun was well on its way to its midday peak, but the slight chill that lingered in the air raised goosebumps along Acacia’s bare arms. “This, I know something about,” she said to Marina, “but I’m sure I’m still miles behind the rest of you. What should we cover?”

[Prince]

Marina chuckled with a grin, "Well, you definitely know what you're doing in regards to running!" Marina walked over and looked out at the rooftops, "So, what we're gonna practice is jumping! You ready to go for it, Acacia?" Marina put her hands on her hips.

[Berry]

Acacia checked her bun to make sure it was still tightly bound, then nodded, her face set in determination. "Let's do it!"

[Prince]

"Alright," Marina stretched her legs idly as she talked, "Jumping is about getting a good running start, and knowing the technique when you have it!" Marina paced back from the ledge of their roof, "You'll wanna be about here, if you even have time to think about it," Marina stretched her arms out, "Now when you're running, you have to keep eine thing in mind - How big the gap between rooftops is. Luckily, the gap here isn't too big, but if it is, you'll need to think about when you jump. A short jump like this can be safely made a little further back, but if the gap's too big, you'll have to time yourself carefully and jump from the very ledge to get the necessary distance," Marina took a deep breath and pointed over at the other rooftop, "OK, this next part comes after you've jumped, but for reasons you can probably guess, I'll hafta explain it now. The important part of jumping technique is knowing how to land. Landing on your feet staggers you a bit, and that's not what you want when Omegas are chasing afar you. Nein, what you want to do when you land is tuck into a roll. That way you land neatly, get some distance, und you aren't too winded to keep running," Marinna grinned sheepishly at Acacia, "I think I may have talked a little too much there… You get all that?"

[Berry]

"I think so," Acacia said slowly. She tilted her head slightly as she tried to judge the distance she would have to cross. It wasn't the jump that worried her, so much as the subsequent roll that she would have to pull off. While she had managed to successfully land most of her jumps in the past, she'd only done just that: land. It was hard to prepare for the motion without having ever done it before; maybe if she saw Marina do it.. "Um, are you gonna go first?"

[Prince]

"Oh ja, of course!" Marina nodded firmly, "I was just making sure you got everything before I did my demonstration," She giggled with a grin, "Right, let's go… Watch me carefully, OK?" Marina ran at the ledge, and jumped just before she came close to the ledge. She shot across the gap, tucking into a ball just before landing and shifting into a roll. Hopping to her feet she let out a cheerful sigh and cupped her hands over her mouth, "You get that, Acacia?"

[Berry]

Acacia kept her eyes trained on her tutor during the whole exercise, but when Marina called back to her, she felt just as clueless as she had before. "Got it!" she said, much more confidently than she felt, and took a few steps back to give herself space for a running start. "Just gotta do it," she muttered under her breath. "It's easy. Just do it." An image of Marina's landing replayed in her head, and after a deep, bracing breath, Acacia started running. Right before she came to the ledge, she pushed off -- flew -- the concrete came up to greet her eagerly, and in that split second where she should have tucked her body in tightly, she panicked, bringing her shoulder down to roll but failing to follow through. Acacia went sprawling, her left shoulder and arm taking the brunt of the impact, though her pride was probably injured more than anything else. "Crap," she grunted, sitting up gingerly and inspecting her arm, which hardly warranted a bandage but would probably sport a lovely bruise before too long.

[Prince]

"Ah, Acacia!" Marina ran over to her, crouching down beside her, eyes full of worry, "Are you alright? Scheisse, I knew explained that badly! Are you hurt bad? Do you need me to take you to the Doktor?" Marina inspected Acacia's wound, but soon chuckled dryly, "Hah, you're the medic here… You'd know about this far better than me. How're you feeling?"

[Berry]

"I'm okay, I'm okay, it's not that bad," Acacia said quickly, her face so red it could have stopped traffic. "It's just a little scrape, the bleeding will stop on its own." She got to her feet and took off her satchel, checking that its contents had survived her clumsiness. When she was satisfied that everything was still intact, Acacia swung the bag back over her head, glancing sideways at Marina as she tightened the strap. "Sorry, I kind of freaked out at the last second," she said with a tentative smile. "You explained it fine, I think I just psyched myself out." After a moment of thought, her smile grew a little more sure, and she said, "I want to try it again."

[Prince]

Marina waited a moment, her brow creased in concern, but soon she smiled brightly with a nod, "Alright… If you're sure. Gut thing too, we need to get back over somehow!" With a chuckle, she stood up, "Want me to demonstrate again, or are you confident in doing it?"

[Berry]

"You go first, I want to see it one more time. But, one sec --" Acacia jogged a few yards along the roof's edge, until she was far enough away that she'd be able to get a good view of Marina's jump from the side. "Okay, go ahead!"

[Prince]

Marina chuckled, "OK, watch closely!" Marina paced back, before running up to the ledge and taking a jump. Just like before, he tucked in and landed into a roll, before cheerfully standing up, "Did you see it? Be honest now!"

[Berry]

This time, instead of just watching Marina and hoping she could figure out the mechanics afterward, Acacia paid close attention to which parts of the body were used at key moments, and tried to imagine her own body moving in the same way. "Yeah, I really got it this time!" She backed up a few feet, flashed two thumbs up, and tried it again. Landing on the balls of her feet, she immediately tucked in her head and shoulders, rolling from her right shoulder to her left hip. Her momentum carried her forward a little more than she was prepared for, making her stumble forward when she came to her feet again, but her ecstatic grin didn't falter. "Yes!" she cheered, punching happily at the air. "I can't believe I did it!"

[Prince]

Marina grinned widely, giving her a thumbs up, "Prima, sehr gut, fantastisch! You're a natural!" She patted Acacia's back heartily, glowing with pride, "You'll be a pro in no time Acacia, seriously gut work! But well…" Marina chuckled coyly, "You did have help from the very best, after all!"

[Berry]

"I never could have done it without you, boss," Acacia returned playfully, though her gratitude was genuine. Glancing up at the sky, she asked Marina, "When do you think we should head back?"

[Prince]

"Hmm… Probably right now, I'd say. I'm sure those drei are done with their business," Marina murmured, looking up at the sky with her for a second, before looking back at Acacia with a smile, "You did really gut, Acacia. I'm seriously impressed. Let's head back, we deserve some rest!"

[Berry]

Rotating her left arm to test for any soreness, Acacia nodded in agreement. "That sounds good. I think I need to get some ice on this if I want it working like it should later," she mused as they began walking back toward the stairwell. "Thanks a lot, Marina," she said after a moment, her eyes creased in a gentle smile. "I really appreciate you helping me out."

[Prince]

"Eheh," Marina chuckled, trying hard to hide her bright, goofy grin, "Well… I was just happy to help, is all! Need to make sure all the members of Sector V can keep up, you know?" She folded her arms with another chuckle.

[Berry]

"Well, it's nice that someone's there to watch out for us newbies." When she got to the bottom of the stairs, Acacia turned to Marina and laughed, "Now, if I mess up, I can just blame it on your training methods!"

[Prince]

Marina rolled her eyes with a chuckle, "You're cunning, I'll give you that! C'mon, go off and get your ice. We'll see you later OK?"

[Berry]

"All right, see you in a bit," Acacia said with a wave, then took off at a jog toward the medical ward.

[THE OMEGA - ROARK AND RUSLANA]

[Captain]
It was only when first light broke that the screams began again.
Throughout New London, a light ochre hue had begun to settle across the rooftops: A temperate, clement tone, through which an unseasonably balmy zephyr travelled.
Wintertide, it seemed, was drawing to her end, and taking with her the last of her bulky billows, leaving the tawny morn unhampered, and its denizens- humble avian flocks, which passed sporadically but nonetheless formed the bijous of the empyrean- salient for all who could, and cared to, see.
The Omegas were not amongst these spectators, however.

The Cage- sometimes referred to in sardonic tones as “Lockdown”- was a moderately sized but long decommissioned prison complex, which perhaps rivalled Sundown’s pinnacle in width, but made no such boasts in height or upkeep.
Its bulwarks were an anaemic sallow, devoid of most natural shades, discoloured by acidic cloudbursts and imbrued with the blood and bile of those who hadn’t the mettle to thrive within.
The partitions were scarcely better- and in some situations far worse, dependent on who played patron to the cells they occupied- and the courtyard was littered with the likes of it’s abominable, beastly citizens, whom brandished blades and bullet alike quite openly, lest any think them feeble in a society where only the strong survived.

The courtyard boasted no roof of its own of which to speak, but that made little difference: Even then, no shine would grace its coarse, cobbled flooring.
For towering above the complex there stood two otherwise foregone monoliths, titans of iron and glass which had- when forsaken, and left to the mercy of the savage, unrelenting elements- yielded unto one another, and collided upon simultaneous collapse in order to support their own structures.
The Cage lingers in their shadow, betwixt their bases: Torrents and deluge have pierced their canopies for two decades, but the sun has never been so persistent.
If an Omega wished to feel their skin kissed by light, they would need to venture outwards, amongst the desolate relics of Old London: And in doing so, they would need to brave The Spectres.

Even if ‘twere the case that these skyscrapers did not bedim the sky, though, it still seemed unlikely that any Omega would savour the morrow.
For even in the day’s zenith, it would be Herculean for any soul to ignore the screaming.

Amongst the inhabitants of The Cage, they were known only as ‘The Alpha’: Their names had become insignificant now, as had most things.
They were confined to an existence lingering behind iron bars, immured like the ogres they had become.
Even amongst the Omega, they had committed the cardinal sin: They had relented to the call of the wild-man, and in doing so had allowed their primal drives to wax, until they had been rendered beasts, snarling and savage as the jackal.
Upon freeing their mind of Servitutem, they had surrendered it to instinct.
At morn, they called out; at noon, they grew quiet; and when nightfall drew close, they howled until the moon reached her apex, before falling into still silence until next the sun rose.

And it was amongst all of this- amidst the shrieks of men made animals, and below the lax, leaning structures which formed The Cage’s modern megalith- that Roark Swallows stood.
He’d risen betimes than he would have usually- before The Alphas, even- but had achieved little more than restringing his bow, and retraining his aim against the wool-woven targets to the courtyard’s east, as it’d seemed most noticeably adrift beforehand.
This morning, his grip had seemed weaker, as indeed it was: The hand with which he’d once drawn his bow now bore a maroon-gauze cast, and had shuddered lightly with the effort of clutching the horsehair.
Still, he’d been able to draw it, and that was more than he’d been able to say a week prior.

Now, however, he stood idly atop one of The Cage’s ramparts, staring out at New London’s silhouette, his eyes hazed by the likeness of slow falling steam, and his lengthy black mane moving lightly to both east and west as breezes weaved throughout Lockdown’s walls.
The fingers of his left hand drummed lightly against the cool steel of his bow, as a carbon-fibre arrow was twirled rhythmically between those on the right.
“Buena Londres mañana,”he breathed in greeting to the waking world, “What pendejos’ve you got lined up for me today, eh?”

[Zordon
Ruslana sat up in her makeshift room, raising the back of her fist to her face and rubbing the crust from the inner corner of her eyes. Placing her hands down onto the thin excuse of a mattress, she winced as the squeak of the frame fell upon her ears. It always did that..and she'd always hated it. And yet, because she was still partially asleep, it never failed to catch her off guard.

She raised her arms above her head, sighing as relief overcame the tension in her muscles with a loud series of pops. Her room could be described as...adequate, at best. It was just large enough to contain her single atop its forsaken squeaky frame resting beside the worn wooden nightstand. If she thought about it, she'd be sure it had seen better days. But, hadn't they all?

In near silence, she padded over to the shower in the corner of the room, devoid of it's own separate area and turned the dial on the wall to it's hottest setting. She stood still for a moment as the steam began to rise from the fountain of water before stepping into it, already having been nude. As the water cascaded down her flesh, she thought to herself of the morning ahead of her while her body carried out it's muscles memories.

She was to meet with Roark after her daily routine and practice her archery, her new found love. Ruslana creaked the water knob back to its off position and stepped over toward the fine scrap of woven cloth hanging from the spherical handle on the wall. With little care to her delicacies, she dried herself off and dressed as she always had; her entire body covered from hr neck down in black cloth more thickly woven over her vital areas.

Reaching down beneath her bed, she slid her bow into the familiaring grip of her hand before sliding her torso between the strings and the curve, allowing it to rest on her shoulder. A small quiver attached to her hip and she was off to the cage, where she knew to find her teacher.

As always, he stood upon one of the higher ledges and with very little effort, she sprang from surface to surface until she stood near him. "Why do you always choose here?" she drawled, her Russian accent still prevalent in her words, though diluted over time.

[Captain]
"To remind me of what there is to gain," he replied simply, eyes unwavering from the bleak horizon. Slowly, the dull thrum of Roark's fingers beating against his weapon grew quieter, until he eventually relinquished the task altogether, "And what there is to lose."
Then, he turned to face her, "In my lifetime, I've watched men walk into the sea, for money, for power. If I ponder long enough, perhaps one day I'll understand."
He lingered on that thought for a moment, before simply shaking his head, freeing himself of such meditative thoughts, "But, you don't care, eh?", he raised his bow, "You're here for this, sí?"

[Zordon
Lana kept her single eyed gaze trained on him, drinking in the way the orange shade of the early sun highlighted his masculine features. Roark was not an unattractive man.. but, he was her teacher and his words were true. She had come to meet him this morning to continue her lessons with him, not to stare at his face. Simply nodding, casting his philosophical response to memory for later deciphering, she slid her bow from her torso, ducking her head as she did so. "Yes Señor.." she smirked, giving him her best Spanish accent.

Assuming the stance in front of him, she drew an arrow and notched it lightly. She could feel herself subconsciously relax her shoulders and bring her right hand to graze lightly at her chin whilst she stared past the arrowhead into the distance. Knowing he would evaluate her stance and make corrections to her body as necessary, Ruslana kept still with her back to him waiting for her respected teachers critiques.

"To remind me of what there is to gain and what there is to lose." she could hear his words echoing in her mind as she waited on him. Her eye lazily drifted from side to side, never straying to far from the point just in front of her arrow. It was not the most beautiful of views she'd seen or heard of but, there was a certain..beauty in the sight itself in the soft morning sun. Everything.. her mind suddenly clicked into gear, causing her shoulders to briefly tense. There is everything to gain and everything to lose.. her mind recited to him, almost straining to make sure he could hear her though she said nothing.

"Well?" she asked, breaking the silence from Roark and her own thoughts that simply wouldn't shut up. "Has my stance improved?"

[Captain]
"Improved? Yes," he replied, regarding her stance with his arms folded patiently across his chest, "Perfeccionado, though? Well..."
He un-gathered his arms, and paced lento to her flank, his frame docile and slack...
Then, quite suddenly, he swept his foot into her hind support, nudging it backwards just a few inches: Then, in rapid succession, he took her hand and raised it to the height of her cheek- as opposed to her chin- drawing her arm back further in the process, "Not quite, Dama. But you're quick with the uptake, that's a very good sign."
He withdrew, taking a few steps back, "And stop squeezing your bow. The tension of your string will keep it rigid, simply let the body rest against your thenar."

[Zordon]
Ruslana felt herself smirk slightly from his initial statement, feeling it melt away as he continued his statement and critiqued her as she'd expected. She allowed him to nudge her leg and adjust her hand higher up to her cheekbone. It felt more natural and she rolled her shoulders slightly to adjust to the new position. As he mentioned her grip on her bow, she released it, letting it cradle between her thumb and fore finger before more loosely wrapping it in her grasp again.

She let out a slow breath, allowing her lungs to to depress slowly in her chest. "And now? What do I get to shoot today, Uchitel?" she asked, letting her eye drift over to fall upon his face once more. "Or do you plan on having me stand here all morning?" The last few words left her lips with a slight upwards inflection, intended as a joke and for a brief moment, she could have sworn she smiled.

[Captain]
"Tempting, senorita," he jested in return, his features softening lightly in order to support a faint, playful smile, "The Cage could use some decoration, could it not? A statue, perhaps..."
He tapped his chin absentmindedly with his bow's nock, as if contemplating it, before shrugging and shaking his head, "But, where would I be without an apprentice to train? Very bored, I should imagine."
With a brief- but nonetheless good-natured- chuckle, Roark gestured for Ruslana to turn westward, towards the other side of the prison complex.
Somewhere in the distance, just above the shifting figures of courtyard-bound Omega, and betwixt the withered trunks of what had, at some point, been decorative birch trees, there hung a small target, suspended from a solitary nail.
It was round, and divided into three gradually shrinking circles.

Roark, experienced archer that he was, was the first to take a shot.
He nocked an arrow- some thin, carbon-fiber affair, with tawny feathers in place of fletches- and drew back his bow string, until his fingers brushed against his cheek bones.
Then, he took a moment to calculate the variables- Air speed, direction and resistance- before relinquishing it from his grip, and allowing his arrow to take flight.
It hurtled across the courtyard at such a speed that it's journey was almost invisible- as was the nature of such projectiles- before burying itself towards the target's center, and vibrating softly.
Roark lowered his bow, and flexed his aching, creaking fingers, "There's your target for the morning... make me proud of your training."

[Zordon]
Ruslana turned as he gestured, looking into the corpses of trees once fully grown. She relaxed her bow, the arrow remaining notched but the string lax and loose. Without saying anything aloud, she just felt more at ease holding the bow than she had any other weapon. Her eye rested on a solitary target in the distance composed of three concentric circles. Just like Roark... He was always doing his best to challenge her. Watching in awe as her teacher effortlessly notched his arrow, she noted that he paused for the slightest of moments and let his arrow fly. Jumping her gaze towards the target, she caught it as it whistled through all three circles with ease.

She scoffed, shaking her head and lifting her bow towards where his had just flown. "No pressure, of course." she mumbled, raising her back hand from her chin to her cheekbone and relaxing her grip on her bow, just as she replayed him telling her in her mind. Exhaling slowly, she prepared to release the arrow...and felt it slip prematurely through her fingers, flying way to far to the right of her target and falling entirely short.

Pulling another arrow from her hip quiver and internally grimacing at her imperfection, Lana quickly pulled another arrow and was tempted to shoot it immediately to recover. However, she stopped and closed her eyes, hanging her head for a moment to compose herself. Inhaling softly, she looked up once more at her target and let her arrow fly, clipping the interior of the second ring. Letting out a loud sigh, she looked to her teacher. "Other than missing... what am I doing wrong?" she asked in an exasperated tone.

[Captain]
"You're worrying," he explained, taking a step closer and peering over her shoulder.
"You are shooting as if the target might escape... it won't, promesa," he patted her reassuringly on the shoulder, "No Runner moves faster than an arrow. You don't need to shoot straight away... take your time. Check the direction of the wind, its speed... and then when you're sure you'll hit, finally let go. Sí?"

[Zordon]
"Not even one with metal legs.." she hissed between her teeth, notching another arrow and taking her time in lining up her shot. Ruslana waited for a few moments, feeling a very soft breeze, she recalculated and adjusted her aim before allowing the arrow to slide out from her grasp. It soared through the hanging circles, clipping the third of the circles only barely. She let out a loud groan and paced away from her standing spot, her dark locks escaping the hood she wore.

Angrily, she notched another arrow further away from where she was originally standing and within a single breath let the arrow fly, swiftly flying through all three circles without a hit. She smiled and turned to her teacher with a huge grin plastered on her face. "Perhaps my instinct is less worrisome." she offered him, shrugging though it was obvious she could not contain her excitement for having performed so well instinctively.

[Captain]
Roark, however, did not find her performance as impressive: Instead, he found her attitude concerning.
Perhaps she'd expected a pat on the back, or a "Buen Trabajo, muy bien!", but Roark's tutors had never been so keen to reward impatience, and neither was he.
Instead, he dealt her a quick- but fairly light- slap upside the head, distancing himself from her again as a frown etched itself into his face.
"Malo," was all he offered her, tone stern, "Just because you are an Omega does not mean you are an animal."
He paused, scrutinizing her with his eyes, "You are not a cowboy, shooting from the hip! You are an archer! We do not rely on instinct!" he berated, his accent- a little tamer than it had once been- flaring up now in all of its fiery, Hispanic glory, "Entiendes? Comprendes?"

He stared her down for a few long seconds, before exhaling deeply.
He'd overreacted, he knew that: But in this world, a mistake as simple as this could lead to another body on the rooftops.
"You want to talk about instincts, chica? Instincts are what we rely on to survive. You want to belittle yourself to an animal? Bueno, whatever. But I will remind you of this one thing, sí? If you are relying on instinct, then you are the prey. Tu entiendes? You are on the losing side of that battle."
Then, Roark lifted his bow again, holding it straight-out and to his left, "You can be prey if you want to, but me? I'm the predator. I don't train no prey."
He then turned his bow-holding arm to the horizon, and the scarred silhouette of Old London, "And when we're out there, on the battlefield? When your target is moving, adrenaline is flowing and there are members of your team getting in the way? You better take that moment to consider your shot. Because if you don't pause, if you don't make it count? They are not going to make the same mistake. Churchill Gunner will not hesitate to kick you right off of that rooftop, and neither will the rest of his silly little sector, comprender?"

Slowly, Roark lowered his bow, and then jerked his head towards the target once more, "Again. Properly, this time."

[Zordon]
Ruslana felt the smile melt from her face and once again, she felt like the little girl being chastised by all the men in her life. Always belittling her and telling her how she was not cut out for...anything really. She bit the inside of her lip, listening to his words as separated from herself as she could manage. "I am no prey.." she hissed between her teeth, feeling them grind against one another as she slowly lifted her bow once more.

In truth, he was right. He always had been. Sometimes that small fact got under her skin but, it always wore off and most times within minutes of the initial irritation. Lana simply wasn't used to someone being so correct about her with so little effort. He was no prey, that was certainly true. He was a fierce predator. And she respected him above all else. SO, she notched another arrow and closed her eyes. Inhaling slowly, she let the air fill her lungs and exhaled slowly, exhaling the anger with it so that all that was left in its absence were eased muscles and focus. Opening her undamaged eye and leaving the other still clenched shut, she took her aim and after careful consideration, let the arrow fly. She was pleased to watch it soar through all three rings, much like her teachers had the first time.

She was elated, but this time she was much more subtle in her response, turning to face him and bowing her head slightly. "I am predator. Please, continue to train me." she asked, knowing that her reaction could have caused him much disrespect, and rightfully so. "I will contain my temper. I swear it."

[Captain]
Roark returned his weapon to its resting place on his back, and folded his arms again as he glanced towards where Ruslana's arrow had finally struck.
For a moment, he didn't reply: He simply contemplated her words, and her actions... then, he offered her a sage nod, "Bueno, muy bien."
He turned to face her again, his features having calmed considerably and his irritation sated by her heeding of his words, "Of course I will train you, mi amiga," he assured her, tone softened, "That was a good shot. Keep practicing like that, sí? Patience is, as they say, a virtue."

[SPECTRE - GILLIGAN GUNNER]
A thick, silver brume had settled upon the thin, arid air, carrying with it the unsubtle, pungent savor of dried tobacco, and a texture which seemed almost viscid to the touch.
It hung there, static, as if suspended by the room’s gelid atmosphere, uncharacteristic for even London’s coldest days, and in doing so had rendered the room dusky, and silent.
The sun’s incline was obscured by a series of rattan shutters, motionless for the entirety of their life: The windows were firmly sealed away.
As for the glass walls which had, at one time, allowed employees to spectate the room’s owner as if he were an attraction, there for their own amusement, they too were impeded: The pallid, synthetic light of the offices were incapable of penetrating the smoke’s unshifting layers, and their sinister stillness had given most the only encouragement they needed to remain hushed.

But sooner or later, all perfect balances must be recalibrated: And for that to happen, they must first fail.
When the office door opened, it seemed that the tempo of time saw fit to re-steel itself, and forced its way across the room’s threshold.
As if commanded, once stationary smoke began to twist, and pirouette, as it precariously danced its way forth, and rushed through its newfound entrance to pollute newer, fresher lungs.
And as it receded, it left scarcely anything in its path; Save for one aged, wooden desk, stained a shade of smoked hickory; A scarred leather executives chair, and its occupant…
Gilligan Gunner, the face which had languished a thousand souls.

His frown was thin, and straight: A pair of pale, slender lips, through which one particularly prominent- and inhumanely sharp- fang protruded.
His skin was ivory, and without tarnish nor taint…
But by far, his most prominent features were his eyes: White as the eggs of spiders, and unblinking, always.

Stanley- he who had dared to open the door- fumbled nervously with the file he’d been clutching to his chest, stepping into the room as the door behind him slowly swung shut, and plunged both he and Gilligan back into the unstirring darkness.
“U-Uh, Sir,” he began, anxiously, “I…”
He paused, and exhaled deeply.
Stanley had been a Spectre for some years, now: He’d taken lives, and hunted the Omega relentlessly with the unforgiving ferocity of a wild cat…
But even then, his confidence was none in his better’s- his progenitor’s- presence.
“I have some news.”
A short silence passed between the two, before some rough, oxymoronic sound came forth: A voice which was both harsh and soft, as though it were a whisper spoken loudly.
“Go on.”
“We’ve… we’ve detected movement, on the ground level, sir. We think it might be runners.”
“I see.” Gilligan replied, coldly, “Then hunt them.”
“Well, sir, I-I was just thinking-”
“Hm?”
“Well, it’s just… it’s only one group- The Omega, they call themselves- that are actively antagonising us, sir. Shouldn’t we… shouldn’t we just focus on them, and leave the Runners to their lives? O-Of course, I’m not questioning your orders! But the rest of the Runners seem harmless, a-and-”

His pleads were cut short by sudden, heavy thudding of some great mass being dropped upon Gilligan’s desk.
A long, metallic blade: Thin, carbon steel, folded to perfection and as sharp as the snake’s tongue… starting at Gilligan’s knee, and remaining in lieu of limb.
“Enough.”
Stanley yelped… but Gilligan made no movements. He simply tilted his head back, to stare at the ceiling.
“Spectre, I recall… when I was still very young, you see… reading of the practices of the old world… and the article that stands most prominently in my memory, is one regarding the burning of snakes.”
“S-Sir?”
“Are you familiar?”
“No, sir.”
“Hrm. There were people, in the old world, that would burn snakes by their hundreds of thousands, when they were at their weakest… clustered together in writhing masses, for fear of otherwise dying in the oncoming Winter. And they did it because, in their eyes, these snakes were the avatars of evil: Serpents, whom had coaxed us from Eden and let loose our predecessors into the dustbowl that would one day be our world.”
“I’m not sure I follow…”

“But they weren’t achieving anything,” Gilligan continued, unphased, “They were attacking the symbols of evil, but not evil itself: They treated the symptoms, without ever truly pursuing the cause… and whilst it’s true, those snakes might have lunged to pollute their veins, if given the chance, their numbers were small, and when they were alone, each snake was fragile… terrified.”
“… sir?”
“Tell me Stanley, have you ever read The Bible? No, I suppose not: We live in a Godless world, you and I.”
“Do… Do you believe in God?”
“No… in a world where a man cannot escape me, a God will fare no better. An idea must be carried by stories, but no longer do men have the tongue for it. They’ve been made docile, by drugs… or else, deceased.”
“Then why did you mention it?”
"Revelations, 22:13, 'I am the Alpha, and the Omega. The first and the last. The beginning and the end.'"
“Alpha?”
"The Omega are the end. They are the symptom. They are our ball of snakes… symbols, nothing more."
“And the Runners?”
"The Alpha. The carriers of the dreamers disease, of which this city must be purged. Do you understand me, now?”

Stanley nodded.
“Very well… now leave me. Or don't. Either way, you will depart.”

[RUNNERS - CHURCHILL GUNNER]
At mid-day, when the sun seemed her most potent, hanging invitingly above and leaving a beautiful azure expanse in lieu of what had once been a tense field of flocked clouds, Churchill made his way to Sundown's entrance, and began the rigorous process of...
Leaning against the gates, and awaiting Sector V's arrival.
For a few moments, he considered summoning them in the same fashion he had earlier: But he supposed it was a situation that actually only ever worked out when (a) he was exceedingly lucky, and (b) it was funniest.
Still, he'd have paid good quantities of hot chocolate to have seen the look on MacReary's face again... he might even have given up his lucky tartan shorts to get a picture of it, framed.

With a soft yawn, he folded his arms across his chest, and glanced down at his stilts, watching for V's reflections in their surfaces.
"Any minute now, Church... any minute now."

[SPECTERS – ALETA ARABELLA]
“Come on. Get inside,” A gun was pressed against Aleta’s back, but she could tell the fear in that simple action, the quavering of his voice. His confidence was just about all he had on her, because without that, he was more scared of her than she was of him. She was made to sit down, and her manacles were locked onto her arms. Normally she would struggle, but she was so elated she didn’t even care, didn’t even take advantage of the numerous weak points he exposed. He left cautiously, making sure not to turn his back on her. Despite his wariness, Aleta didn’t make a move as he shuffled out of the room – Once he was gone, a low chuckle slipped from Aleta’s throat.
“Eheh… Heh heh…” A wide, dementedly ecstatic grin filled her lips, “He said… He said I did a good job again…” In an instant her smile dropped. She perked up, glancing around as her brow folded into a frown, “You again. You just won’t leave me alone…” She grumbled, her knuckles somehow turning whiter as she clenched her fists tightly, “I thought I told you before.” The room was dark and still as usual, the only distinguishable sound being droplets of water from the roof. Despite the silence, the way she tilted her head made it seem as though she was listening to someone. She looked down, slowly closing her eyelids, “Lying, huh? You think I’m lying? Telling a fib? Speaking falsehoods, fabricating the truth leaving out details trying to mislead you only telling one side of the story” her voice started out slow, getting faster and faster before ending with a shriek of “WELL I’M NOT!” She took a second to catch her breath, before a toothy grin stretched out across her face. A low, dark snicker passed her lips, “Kehehehe… Just like a BITCH to deny the truth. Hiding like a scared little baby, closing out the world like a child in denial! Wake up jane, when are you going to remember that I killed you?!” Another grim snicker, her body trembling – Not out of fear, but out of joy, “Keheheh… I still remember it some days. It floods my senses; the smell of your blood, the feel of your cold skin, the sound of your dying gurgles… And that stupid face of yours. You looked surprised, didn’t you? You didn’t expect me. How could you? I could’ve slit your throat in an instant, you know. You should be thankful, I let you live a little longer!” Her eyes were wide open, her grin twitching slightly, “I let you see the lovely things I painted in your dirty, filthy blood. You know, it’s probably a good thing you never got to confess those FAKE feelings of yours…” Aleta’s shaking was beginning to rattle her chains, creating a low, ominous backing sound, “He wouldn’t have been as nice as me. Those beautiful legs of his make my knives look like butter knives. He wouldn’t have smiled, either. I gave you lots of smiles, didn’t I? I bet Gilligan would have cut you to shreds while giving you that cold, harsh…” Aleta began panting heavily, “Dark, malice-filled glare of his…! Haah, haaah…! Hahaha, you lucky bitch! What would he have said to you, if he even thought you were worth wasting breath on? ‘Go back to Babylon’, I bet! ‘A dirty Siren trying to tempt the hero’, that’s what he’d called you! Nothing but a temptress, a lowly WHORE!” Aleta had lunged forward, stopped short by her shackles, She slowly fell back against the wall, snickering even more, “Nothing but a myth. Most people here don’t remember you. Gilligan sure doesn’t. But do you know who he does remember? Do you know who he calls on as his most-trusted Specter? Do you know who he praises with that beautiful voice of his?” Aleta leaned in, a wild, smug smile on her face, “I think you know who. Now go away. I’m done dealing with you,” There was a long pause. A long bout of deathly silence “… You’re ignoring me again? Are you deaf? Stupid? Dense? I. Said. FUCK OFF!” She shrieked, fire in her eyes. She soon slid back against the wall, closing her eyes and breathing a sigh of relief. The doorknob rattled slightly…
But he decided it better to not check.

[SECTOR V – SUNDOWN]
Klaus was the first to arrive at Church’s meeting place – He greeted him with a wave, his coat slung over his shoulder, hair still slightly wet, “Guten tag, Church. No one else shown up yet?” He peered around quizzically, “Huh, how odd… Well, hopefully schwester will be here soon…” In the distance there was a cry of ‘Haaa~lloooo!’ as the perky young German rushed in, looking bright and chipper as usual, “Ah, hallo there schwester.”
“Hallo Klaus!” Marina beamed at Church with an excited wave, “Guten tag Church! I’m sehr pumped for this mission, I’m ready to kick some butt!” Klaus sighed softly.
“Hopefully it won’t have to come to that.”
“It’d be cool if it did, though.”
“Perhaps, but hopefully it won’t.”
“But what if it did!”
“Schwester, this isn’t a game…”
“But if it was, it’d be cool.” Klaus shrugged with a sigh.
“Right, we’re waiting on the rest then, are we Church?”

[Empath]
As MacReary left, Melanie left out a silent sigh she hadn’t noticed she was holding in her. That old man had always given her a weird feeling - but since their last mission it had been worse than usual: she discovered to her own surprise that she had been worried about any comments about her ‘actions’ in their last mission for some reason. Luckily MacReary seemed to have forgotten it, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling of nervousness away - thank god she had only run into him twice since then. It was at this point in time that Melanie remembered where she was again: meeting with her sector - but more importantly than that, Eva was speaking to her, eyes wide as they filled with what appeared to be horror and concern.

“Hey, you alright?” Eva asked her before she continued; “Damn, we look beaten to a pulp? What did you do, get trampled? I never pegged you for the type to get involved in a riot, Mel.”

It took Melanie a second before she realised what Eva was talking about, but then suddenly the light bulb got turned on inside her head: Father had given her quite a few good hits resulting in her face looking a bit like a punching bag she guessed.

A weak smile formed on her lips, “oh you know…” was all she managed to say before she lost the ability to speak, her hand absentmindedly moved up towards her face, wanting to feel the bruises itself - however she commanded it to stop, resulting in a rather awkward pose where her right arm hang motionless for a second between her face and her shoulder. Finally she rested it on her left arm, just above her elbow - the usual pose she made when she wasn’t certain of something - which only made her appear even more awkward. “... Guess I'm finally getting into that rebellious age...?" She finally said with a voice not quite as normal as she had intended - she just hoped that the crooked smile helped cover it.

However she had not needed to worry - or at least she thought so because soon after Church, Eva and Klaus took off, talking about doing some R'n'R - and soon after both Marina and Acacia followed, leaving only Henry and herself. This pleased her greatly; fewer people she had to lie to for the moment.

"So..." She spoke to Henry, her usual grin securely placed on her face, "and then there were two, huh rookie?" She winked at him, before looking around. What was she supposed to do? They weren't going to regroup for some time so she had to figure out what she could do - it was a weird feeling for Melanie: 'free time' wasn’t a concept well known to those in Sector V, to be honest …mostly because Church seemed to find great pleasure in torturing them with gruesome training sessions, dangerous missions or – his favorite, at least that was what Melanie believed – internal fights with different sectors.

well Melanie thought after a few moments, the others are going to do some training - and it has been some time since I had a good session... she argued with herself. Zooming back into the real world once again, she focused on Henry once more.

“Well I will take my leave as well, got to get some training done - I don’t want to be caught up by the likes of Church and Eva!” she grinned before she waved a goodbye, soon followed by a last remark “I’ll see you later!”

With that she quickly took her leave, running through the maze of rooms and corridors that made up the interior of Sundown - she had gotten more comfortable with them now; easily knowing where she was and where she shouldn’t be. Smiling a bit to herself as she turned around a corner, ready to dodge out of the way if something was in her way - luckily there wasn’t, and so she continued her run - she could still remember how confused and lost she had been when she had just gotten into the Runner’s society and Sundown. There had been a lot of scolding from Church and Eva because she kept being late in the first month or so.

Finally, after following a few more corridors and corners, she arrived at the location she had been gunning for: it was a large room filled with different obstacles and debris that made the room perfect for technical running and manoeuvres. However it was because of the aforementioned that most Runners stayed away from this room: the roof and walls of the rooms that had surrounded the main area had collapsed, allowing the room to become so big - however at the same time the danger of further collapses were seen as extremely high, and therefore the Elders had warned the Runner society to stay away from areas such as this. Which was another reason why Melanie preferred it: she could be alone - and giving the middle finger to the Elders at the same time was definitely an added bonus.

As the sun slowly gained its power as it rose above New London, covering first the highest of the rooftops in its golden light, and soon after the lower levels as it reached new heights. The air that covered New London was starting to heat up because of the gentle touch of the sun, it was going to become a warm day - or at least a warmer day than the citizens of New London had experienced in a long time. Many Runners would seek out the sun-touched areas, craving to drink the warm sap of the sun after so many days of cold. However, at least one Runner didn’t notice this before the small droplets of salty sweat started to run down her skin: Melanie was running and dodging various obstacles in the room, smoothly making her way around her imaginary maze of a training ground. Bouncing off a wall; jumping over the rubble of a wall that once were - while at the same time incorporating kicks and punches into the constant stream of motions.

After a while Melanie came to a standstill in the middle of the room, the beams of light that emanated from the sun through the window had become shorter as the sun rose. However the room had only gotten warmer, and as a result she could feel how drenched in sweat her clothes were. It had been a harsher training session that what she usually had put herself through - and the reason was clear: Father.

She could feel the frustration, embarrassment and rage boil inside of her, not only towards Father, but also towards herself. She was indeed a failure - but it wasn’t too late to correct that.

Closing her eyes she shifted her stance. It wasn’t a stance that most Runners would use - or even know: it was a stance meant for fighting. Most Runners kept to the first code of the Runners; “Never fight when you can run” - a code Melanie had never really understood, running would never solve anything. If you wanted to solve a problem you had to take a stand and fight, fight for what you believed in and fight for your life - at least that was Melanie’s opinion.

Pushing these thoughts aside she began a set of flowing motions, each blending movements from various fighting styles into one smooth dance. Her mind created various enemies that she fought, a technique that had taken her years to perfect, but it came with great advantages.

At first Melanie fought smoothly, keeping her movements efficient and clean, however as she advanced she became more fierce and aggressive. With each punch, each kick and each knife-attack she poured her rage, frustrations and embarrassment into her movements, forcing herself further and harder than she normally would - and when she finally stopped she was panting and groaning from the physical and mental workout.

“Pheeew…” Melanie let out a heavy, long sigh as she stood up straight. Rubbing her neck softly as she looked down at herself: her clothes were drenched in sweat, her skin was shining with the reflections from the light and her hair clung tightly to her skin. “That was a nice workout” she grinned to herself, using her right hand to pull a few strands of brown hair away from her eyes. Stopping her hand suddenly before she rolled the strands of hair between her thumb and her finger she came to realise something.

It’s been a long time since I have had my hair cut... she thought to herself, thinking back in time to when the last time she had cut it was. It was… two months after joining Sector V? Yea that seems about right.

Usually she didn’t really care for her own appearance, it wasn’t like it mattered in the world she lived in. For her the important things was that her appearance didn’t get in the way of her functions as a Runner and a fighter - however it had gotten awfully long, and it was starting to get in her eyes and tickle her back when she moved…
Oh well, she thought annoyingly to herself, guess I cannot push it any longer...

With that she started to move towards the entrance to the room, pondering about how she would go about it, last time it had been a nice old lady - however she doubted she could find her again after all this time.

“Maybe I could do it myself…?” she spoke to no one but herself as she walked slowly down the path she had followed getting there.

[Vivid]
Pushing the air out of her lungs and between her lips in a thin stream, Eva finally came to a slow stop right outside of the mess hall. She wasn’t hungry, and it definitely wasn’t a good idea to eat right before heading out on a mission, but she liked the sound of the place. After being trapped in the infirmary for so long, she missed the cacophony of dishes clattering against each other and voices rising in an effort to be heard over one another. Placing her hands on her hips, she leaned from side to side, slowly stretching out the muscles as she peeked inside to glance at the clock mounted on the wall.

“Do I still have that much time?” After leaving Church and Klaus, she had gone ahead and jogged the rest of her route at an easy and leisurely pace… and then she went ahead and started it again, at her usual pace. Though it still felt like everything in her body was aching in one way or another, the pain couldn’t hold a candle to how she felt when she ran. The more she moved and warmed up, the looser her muscles and tendons grew, and she couldn’t resist the urge to keep pushing herself harder.

Even she knew better than to overdo it right out of the hospital bed, though. When she finally forced herself to stop, she had assumed enough time would have passed to demand her presence at the rendezvous point, but it looked as though she still had at least 45 minutes to kill. “Well, damn,” She muttered, “I’m already bored.”

Rather than going in and taking a seat, she decided to turn around and walk in the opposite direction, not feeling generous enough to allow a cramp or two to settle in her muscles. She continued to stretch out the rest of her muscles as she walked, rolling her head in slow circles and pulling her arms across and above and behind her. Focusing on keeping her steps slow and light, she clenched her fingers into loose fists and brought them up, holding them in a standard defensive stance. As carefully as she could, she threw a sloppy right jab, wincing as the movement shifted her not-quite-healed clavicle. Letting out a soft grunt, she grit her teeth and tried again, prepared to compensate for the pain now that she knew what to expect. Again and again, she pushed her fist out, focusing on keeping it straight and centered; slowly, she began to add in variation, trying hooks, uppercuts, and jabs as well. By the time she started implementing her good arm to execute actual combos, you could start to call her actions shadow-boxing, but only just barely.

“Agh, God,” She grunted, clutching at her right shoulder as she over extended her punch, causing a wave of sharp pain to travel up her neck and down her arm. Clenching her jaw in frustration, she growled and delivered a wild roundhouse kick to the wall, stumbling as she fell off balance. “Oh yeah, Eva, great idea, just do something that’ll hurt yourself more,” She grumbled as she leaned over to prod at the area around her ankle. “You can’t even kick something like a normal person, can you? Gotta be all flashy, even when there’s no one around to see you make a fool of yourself!”

”Maybe I could do it myself…?” It almost felt as if the voice had been summoned at that exact moment, solely to prove Eva wrong. To her surprise, though, she recognized the voice.

Taking her attention away from her injuries, she walked further down the hall to peek around the corner – sure enough, there was Melanie, walking in the opposite direction.
“Do what yourself?” The words were out before Eva had even thought about speaking. She was naturally friendly, which wasn’t always a good thing. The moment she saw a familiar face, she had a tendency to jump right into a conversation, as if she had been standing right next to them the entire time. “Er…um, hi.” She added lamely, lifting her hand in greeting. Yes, saying ‘hi’ was probably a more socially acceptable method of greeting.

[Empath]
Following the path of the corridor Melanie wasn’t paying much attention to what happened around her - not that one could blame her: usually these parts of Sundown were mostly left unused. Instead she dealt with the major problem of her hair, it really had grown too long.

“Do what yourself?” a voice spoke behind her, sending a jolt up her spine causing her muscles to contract, instantly ready for any possible situation, however this wasn’t necessary as the voice soon spoke again. “Er…um, hi”.

Turning around Melanie visibly relaxed as she saw that it was Eva who had sneaked up on her. Melanie grinned friendly before opening her mouth to speak.

“Oh jeez, you scared me!” she spoke with her usually cheeky grin on her face, “hasn’t anyone told you not to sneak up on people like that?” With a wink she added, “You never know how the person might react.”

[Vivid]
“Well, taking into account the fact that I grew up with Church and was practically raised by Maggie…no, I don’t think anyone ever did. I just had to learn the hard way,” Eva laughed, showing her palms in a placating fashion. “But sorry, didn’t mean to scare you – thanks for not jumping me,” She chuckled, gingerly touching her fingertips to her collarbone again. “Lord knows I don’t need any more bruises…”

[Empath]
A sweet laugh erupted from Melanie’s throat, “Good point” she said laughing. “That does explain a lot,” she joked, adding another wink in for good measure. “And no worries, guess I am a bit on edge…”

Her voice trailed off, the last few syllables tenderly floated through the air before she closed her mouth.

“Oh, and… uhm,” Melanie started, coughing a bit to hide her fragile voice, “I was just think that I needed a haircut” she spoke, this time a bit sturdier, “you know, it has been ages since I have gotten my hair cut, just after I joined you guys actually - and I could really do with one”. She smiled, before adding a last sentence. “You know, long hair like this” she said, using her thumb to point at her ponytail, “sure can get in the way when you’re running and fighting!”

[Vivid]
Eva’s eyebrows lifted as she spoke, an expression of recognition taking over her face.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” She grinned, pointing to her own short locks. “I’m always wondering how the other girls can stand it. If it so much as starts to brush my shoulders, I just lose it when I’m trying to run.” Thinking back to what she had overheard before speaking up, Eva tilted her head curiously. “Do you usually cut your own hair? Or have you found a hairstylist around here that doesn’t just take a steak knife and call it a pair of scissors?”

[Empath]
“Well,” Melanie started, “back when I arrived here there was this kind old lady who did my hair, however I doubt I can find her again - this place is a bit too big for that…” She rubbed her neck softly with her right hand before continuing, “and yea, luckily she did have a scissor, although it was still not exactly sharp!” Coughing once again before she continued, “So, yea, uhm… I was thinking of trying it myself, it’s just…” her voice trailed off as her cheeks took on a faint crimson colour, “that I’ve never really cared much for it, you know?”

Why am I blushing? Melanie wondered to herself, trying to hide her insecurity with another grin, “Just never really had time in this world, you know?”

[Vivid]
“Who does?” Eva laughed good-naturedly, making a point not to comment on the other girl’s embarrassment. “I sported the ugliest God-awful bowl cut for nearly three years and never gave a damn until I actually bothered taking the time to look in a mirror. That was a sad, sad day – it was also the day I decided to start learning how to properly cut hair, so you’re in luck!”

With a wink, she gestured for Melanie to follow her as turned around and began walking. “It’s hard to find the things that you need around here, especially anything of quality, but it’s possible. You just need to know where to look.” Eva grinned as they approached the infirmary. “Wait out here,” She whispered, recalling Melanie’s aversion to all things medical. The girl had looked ready to crawl out of her skin when Eva had first been admitted. “I’ll be right back out.”

Flashing her a thumbs up, Eva ducked into the room, scanning it for familiar faces as she carefully crept along. After looking it over several more times, she felt confident that a certain Frenchwoman was nowhere to be found, and scampered over to Nadine’s workspace.

“Come on, come on…” She muttered, pulling out the shelves of the little cart and pawing through its contents.
“Ahem,” A rough sound came from directly behind her ear, and she closed her eyes.
“Crap,” She muttered.
“Crap is right, ma crotte,” Sighing, Eva turned around to face the redheaded nurse, who had her arms crossed and her eyebrow cocked high. “Que fais-tu?”
“Oh, you know,” Eva pushed out a strained laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Just…hanging out.”
“Right,” Nadine looked unimpressed. “Tell me, how does ‘hanging out’ include going through my things?”
“I lost something, and I just thought you might have been keeping it here.”
“What is it that you’ve lost?”
“My dignity,” Eva muttered, covering it up with a cough. “I, uh, I mean – I need some new bandages. You know, for hand wraps…we’ve got a mission in just a bit, and I’m out.”
“That is what you call ‘lost’?”
“I…”
“Yes?”
“…Okay, look, I need to borrow the scissors.” Nadine frowned, glancing over her hair.
“You don’t look due for another haircut yet.”
“It’s not for me.”
“Eva…” Again, she frowned. “You know those are for medical-”
“Medical purposes, yeah, I know. Come on, though, please? She’s been with us for half a year now, and I still feel like I barely know her. This is the first time I’m getting much of a chance to talk to her one on one and maybe even do something nice for her and please, please, please, please, please-” Nadine couldn’t stifle a laugh as Eva dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around the nurse’s legs as she begged pitifully.
“Alright, alright, fine! Take it, allez!”
“Thank you,” Eva grinned, dragging out the ‘oo’ sound as she stood back up. “I’ll get it back to you when we come back.”
“You had better,” Nadine scolded, pulling the sharp tool out and setting it in Eva’s palm. “And you had better not come back covered head to toe in injuries again!”
“Ow, hey!” Eva protested as the Frenchwoman smacked her lightly on the head. “Hitting me won’t make anything better!”
“Coming from the woman who punched her sector leader when he was wounded in order to make him feel better? How convincing.”
“T-that’s a different matter entirely,” Eva grumbled. “Plus, he’s got a thick skull, and he’s Churchill Goddamn Gunner. He’ll always be able to take way more than I can.”
“Tell yourself that while you’re away then,” Nadine smirked, pinching her cheek. “Do not get into unnecessary fights, and let your teammates pick up some slack. You are not the only member, you know.”
“…Yeah, okay,” Eva grumbled. “You don’t have to worry, seriously. We’ve got our own personal medic with us!”
“Ah, yes, Acacia – you take care of her, Eva. She’s a sweet girl, and one of the most talented medics I’ve ever seen at her age.”
“Don’t worry. She’ll keep us from getting scrapes and bruises, and we’ll do the same for her. Just watch, we’ll be finished up with this mission by sundown, and everyone will throw us a big party. I’ll even invite you!”
“Cute,” Nadine sneered. “I’ll be counting on it. For now, get out of here, you’re wasting space.”
“Love you, too,” Eva chuckled as she walked back out of the infirmary. “Okay! Sorry that took a bit longer than I expected – I got caught.” Eva told Melanie with a sheepish grin. “But hey,” Holding up the scissors, she made a snipping motion. “Success! Come on, we’ve got about half an hour, let’s head over to the showers.”

[Empath]
Melanie grinned at Eva’s story about her past hair… ‘problems’ - somehow she couldn’t quite get her mind wrapped around that kind of trouble, however she didn’t have time to ponder over what that kind of trauma might feel like - let alone actually reply to it, as just moments later she found herself trying to keep up with Eva, as well as listening to her conversation. Melanie was just about to ask what Eva meant with looking at the ‘right places’, but suddenly she noticed where Eva had guided her: the infirmary.

Most people would see the infirmary as something nice, calming and secure: a place for healing and nurturing - however, for Melanie it was the complete opposite. To her the smell of the abnormal ‘cleanliness’ scorched her nose and the white tiles with the bare lighting brought back memories of her past. No, for Melanie the place of healing was just the opposite.

Luckily it seemed as if Eva knew this already, and as she went in to get the items - hopefully just a cutting tool, Melanie hoped - Melanie was left outside. Relax, Melanie thought to herself, letting out a mental sigh as she leaned her back up against the rough wall next to the door leading into the infirmary. It’s not like anything is going to happen - soon Eva will be back and I can leave this Godforsaken place.

Tilting her head back against the wall she settled in for a waiting-game: her eyes were closed and as such she only observed the world around her by the sounds of the different noises fusing together around her. She didn’t take particularly interest in any of them, and as such they were more a form of background noise to keep her interested. Luckily Eva didn’t take long to gather whatever it was she needed - and she appeared from the entrance to the infirmary. In her hand was a pair of scissors that she - quite scarcely, Melanie thought - waved around, cutting the air around her.

“You sure you can do this…?” Melanie asked, somehow a bit worried about Eva’s somewhat careless handling of the Scissors - somehow Melanie’s confidence in this ‘plan’ (if you could even call it that) was diminishing with each step.

[Vivid]
“Hey,” Eva glanced over her shoulder, giving Melanie a mock look of hurt. “Have a little faith, why don’t you? I’m able to handle my own hair, most of the time without a mirror, and it doesn’t look half bad.” Bringing her fingers up to her head, Eva bit her lip nervously. “I don’t think?”

[Empath]
Smiling Melanie nodded, “Indeed,” she said, “that is quite the skill - I am amazed you aren’t more known in Sundown for that”. Her smile turned into a grin, “‘Eva the Amazing Haircutter’ - now that is a title that would sound good.” - somehow she wasn’t so nervous anymore.

Stepping into the showers after Eva, Melanie looked around, “Where should we do this…?” she asked, looking expectantly at Eva.

[Vivid]
“If I’m going to be notorious for my skills with scissors, it’s not going to be because I’m a good hairstylist,” Eva laughed, twirling the sharp tool carelessly around her index finger. “Let’s just leave it at that.”

Walking over to the far end of the showers, she pulled out a short plastic stool and set it up next to the trash can. “We get a lot of Runners with foot injuries around here, so we just keep a few of these on hand. Here, have a seat.” Glancing around, Eva hummed thoughtfully. “You…might want to take your shirt off. It’s hard to keep the little bits of hair from falling into your clothes, and those itch like crazy, which I doubt you’ll want to deal with on a mission. Here,” She said, grabbing a clean towel and holding it out to her. “Go ahead and wrap that around your shoulders while I try to find a comb; someone always leaves at least one of them lying around.”

[Empath]
Melanie grinned as she took off her shirt, before wrapping her body in a towel as she sat down on the small stool. “Well,” Melanie spoke out loud to be sure Eva heard her on her quest for a comb, “just cut it kind of short, okay? Don’t want it to get in my way on the mission - been having a bit of difficulties lately with ‘this’” she spoke, pointing towards her long ponytail.

“But,” she followed after a brief pause, “you don’t need to make it look ‘pretty’ or anything like that, not really interested in that kind of thing - plus it wouldn’t really matter either”.

[Vivid]
“I will promise not to give you a bowl cut,” Eva said, returning with a triumphant grin as she waved a fine-tooth comb in the air. “How about that?” Chuckling, she gently pulled the elastic band out of Melanie’s hair, allowing it to fall straight down. “So I’m assuming you don’t want it as short as mine, around the ears and whatnot. What are you thinking, chin length, shoulder length?” She placed the side of her palm against Melanie’s neck in various places, trying to gauge exactly where to draw the line. “And what do you want me to do with your bangs?”

[Empath]
“Uhm…” Melanie really didn’t know how to respond to any of the questions Eva bombarded her with - wasn’t it easy enough just to say she wanted it ‘short’? Hair sure is troublesome, she grumbled in her head before opening her mouth to respond. “... just like… neck-long?” she finally spoke, her voice, however, didn’t hold her usual calm. Following the paths Eva had followed with her fingers, Melanie ran her fingers through her hair, trying to imagine what length would be good - but finally she came to the obvious conclusion.

“Why don’t you just do what you think is best…?”

[Vivid]
“Ah,” Eva grinned broadly. “What every hairstylist loves to hear! Okay, we’re working on a bit of a time limit here, so I’ll have to be quick – don’t make any sudden movement, alright?” Running her fingers through Melanie’s hair, she began pulling pieces back experimentally. “Wouldn’t want to get your ears…” She muttered, half serious.

After a few moments, she seemed to reach a decision, nodding her head with satisfaction. Moving to stand behind Melanie, Eva pulled all of her hair back into a loose ponytail and simply cut it right down the middle. Letting it go, she watched it settle just above Melanie’s shoulders, combing her fingers through it.

“That seems like a good length,” She murmured. “It’s still long enough to tie up, and it should be especially easy to manage. Okay, let me just thin it out a little so it’s not so blunt at the bottom.” They sat in silence for a few minutes, only accompanied by the small snipping noises of the scissors as Eva worked quickly and methodically, regularly running the comb through her hair and making sure the edges were even.

“So,” She finally spoke up, the sound muffled as she held the handle of the comb between her teeth. “I haven’t really had the chance to check up on you recently, especially with all the other newbies.” Her speech grew more comprehensible as she pulled the tool out of her mouth to cut off a few more inches. “I know you’ve been keeping up on your training, you make one hell of a Runner. Life in Sundown is kind of different, though. How have you been settling in? Anybody giving you a hard time?” Eva’s mouth quirked to the side as she thought of all the other sectors’ members that were constantly looking for trouble. “If Y’s little brats ever get on your nerves too much, don’t be afraid to just kick them where it hurts, whether that’s their shins or just a little higher up.”

[Empath]
Sitting as still as possible, Melanie tried to relax - something that wasn’t easy while having Eva standing with a pair of sharp objects right behind you. Melanie could feel how her body stiffened as Eva suddenly - and quite fiercely - cut off most of her hair, if it wasn’t for the warning of getting her ears cut off, Melanie would most likely have ran away before the first strand of hair hit the ground.

It took her a moment to realise that Eva was speaking, the chirping of the scissor, along with the fear of getting her ears cut off, had blocked out any other sound - however the topic of which Eva spoke about surprised Melanie.

She wants to know… how I’ve been? she wondered, using the mirror in front of her to look at the girl behind her. Eva was obviously concentrating on cutting - and hopefully also focusing on not cutting off her ears.

“Uhm…” Melanie started, not really sure how to reply to the question, “you know, all is good?” Melanie realised that her last sentence sounded more like a question than an actual answer, and quickly replied to her own question.

“Some Runners still don’t really trust me” she started out slowly, she really wasn’t used to this talking-about-your-feelings-stuff. “I guess my past worries them…?” she tried to keep her voice strong and light, but somehow she still felt it grow weaker as she continued to let the words slip off her tongue. Coughing slightly to regain the strength in her voice before she opened her mouth again, “But you know, considering how fast I got recruited into Sector V, I bet they are all just envious of my awesome skills!” she added with an actual honest grin, and with a laugh she started speaking shortly after.

“But you know, I sort of feel bad for those Y’s” she said lightly, “they get their arses’ kicked so often by you guys - I wouldn’t want to completely destroy them!”

[Vivid]
Eva let out a snort of laughter as she moved around to Melanie’s side, shifting her focus to the front of her hair. She waited until the comb was out of her mouth again before speaking.

“It’s nothing they don’t deserve,” She snickered. “It is a bit unfair, though, considering we’re just…you know, the best there is. It’s hardly ever even a competition! I do have to commend them for trying so hard, though.” She fell silent for a moment as she focused on trimming Melanie’s bangs, holding a hand out to shield the other girl’s eyes from falling pieces. “To be able to keep getting up, even after you’ve been kicked down over and over and over again…that’s a lesson every Runner needs to learn, eventually. I’m surprised they’ve got that figured out at their age. Don’t tell anyone I said this,” Lowering her voice to a whisper, Eva leaned forward as if to deliver extremely delicate news, eyes shifting from side to side. “But I’m actually somewhat impressed with them…proud, even. They’re young and stupid, but they really fight and try hard.” Coughing, she stood back up, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yep, those little monsters sure are a pain in the neck!”

Using her foot, she began sweeping the hair on the ground into a small pile, before moving around to Melanie’s other side. “As far as the others go, well…I guess it’s to be expected that they’ll still be kind of wary. Everybody’s got trust issues the size of Sundown itself – once they get to know you, though, I’m sure they’ll come around. Give it some time, they’re just paranoid old farts. You know, you’re always welcome to come join us whenever we’ve got some down time, though that’s nearly nonexistent. Just grab a seat with us at meals, and whatnot, I promise we won’t mind.” Prodding Melanie to turn to the side, Eva stepped back to judge her work, pulling the sides of her fringe down to gauge their length. “And if anyone ever does give you trouble, you just give us a holler. Sector V is always ready to show up with our fists swinging at the turn of a dime. We’re equipped to handle everything from throwing out the best insults you’ve ever heard, to just bringing a good old fashioned beatdown.” As she made a few final cuts, her lips curled into a smirk. “Even if we get our collective asses kicked, we’ll go down together. We’ve got your back, you know?”

[Empath]
Laughter burst forth from Melanie’s mouth, tears swelled up in her eyes as she clenched her stomach - completely forgetting that Eva was cutting her hair. “You really are a leader, huh?” she grinned, smiling to Eva through the mirror, “I am not sure who really is the oldest of the two of us, just look at how mature you are, Ms. Sector V!”

Reaching up with her right hand, Melanie touched the remains of her hair that had survived Eva’s slaughter, it really had gotten short, it felt almost too light, like there wasn’t anything left - but of course there were: her dark brown hair fell wildly around her face down to her neck, while a few bangs still encompassed her face. It was much shorter than what she was used to, and as she looked over her new self - almost mistaking it for someone else - it dawned on her; it was really short, much too short.

Her right hand fell from her hair to her neck, the dark etching of her ‘mark’ could faintly be felt against her fingertips, however it seemed luck was with her: Despite her hair having gotten so short, the edges still touched the lower markings, faintly hiding it with a cover of messy brown hair.

Phew... Melanie let out a mental sigh for the second time that day, hopefully it wasn’t going to become a habit of hers. However, a thought dawned on her as her hand froze in place, Eva must have seen it, how couldn’t she? Melanie thought. Shifting her gaze up at her second in command before returning to the mirror. She almost jumped off of the chair, shaking her hair to get the last few loose strands out before pulling up the hood in her thin sweatshirt in one smooth motion - thus covering her neck from the outside world.

“Thanks Eva” Melanie grinned playfully, “that was… less painful that I had imagined it would be, plus I still have both of my ears” Melanie said with a grin. A grin she hoped didn’t seem too forced. Did she see it? Melanie wondered, gazing at Eva briefly, she doesn’t appear to have… I think.

Once again her hand unconsciously reached up to her neck, running her fingers over the markings that had once been etched into her skin. She wasn’t sure what Eva might think if she had seen them, but most didn’t think much of it, it was, after all, just a strange tattoo - however, Melanie didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks, just the risk of Eva having seen it was too much.

“So,” Melanie started, forcing her hand away from her neck and instead using it to brush a few strands of hair away from her pants, “think we should head back to our Sector? I have no doubt Church is counting each second in hope of punishing us if we are late.” Melanie grinned.

[Vivid]
Eva’s eyebrows lifted in surprise as Melanie practically leapt out of the seat. As she pulled her hood up, the corners of Eva’s mouth turned down in a slight frown, wondering if she had done a bad job of cutting the girl’s hair. Letting out a soft hum, she decided not to dwell on it – there wasn’t much more she could do at the moment, and it wasn’t like she had butchered it. She could just offer to make some more tweaks later, if Melanie showed signs of being bothered by it.

“That sounds like a plan to me!” She replied with a smile, kneeling down to gather as much of the hair clippings as she could with her bare hands and throwing them into the trash. “He wants us there at…twelve-hundred hours,” Her eyes widened slightly as she spoke, catching sight of the small clock sitting just above the doorway, “which is five minutes away.” Cursing under her breath, she dropped the task of cleaning up the hair and snatched up the scissors. “Okay, we need to run, someone else can take care of that,” She muttered quickly, leading the way out of the showers. “I need to stop by our quarters first, drop off the scissors and grab a few other things. You can go on ahead – you know where we’re meeting, right?”

[Empath]
A slight sigh escaped Melanie’s lips, it didn’t appear as if Eva had seen anything. Cracking her fingers, she followed Eva’s gaze, “five minutes, huh?” she spoke, her usual light tone was back in her voice, “well it shouldn’t take that long - we are a pair of awesome Runners after all!” she added with a large grin. Melanie noted with great pleasure that Eva wasn’t heading towards the infirmary, but instead towards their quarters. Thank god, Melanie though, I needed to change as well, glad I can evade that area...

“I will join you” she spoke, “need to change out of these filthy, sweat soaked and dust covered clothes anyway”. Melanie purposefully smelled her shirt as they passed the door, frowning jokingly as she shook her head, “yep - definitely need a new set!”

As they ran across Sundown Melanie could feel how light her hair had become, it no longer swung around as much as it had just a day before. Running her right hand through it, I wonder if it looks alright…? she wondered - the notion that she actually cared about her appearance made her cheeks blush slightly, what is wrong with me? she wondered, I never cared about how I looked before, but why do I suddenly…?

Shaking her head before she quickly and smoothly made her way over a table that had been placed in the middle of one of the rooms they passed through, “oh just let it go you idiot,” she mumbled under her breath. Luckily she didn’t have to ponder over such unnecessary things as appearance, as not too long after they arrived at their target.
“Well, I will just go and grab some new clothes and I will be all set for Church’s punishment,” she grinned with a wave before she headed into her small room. Quickly gathering a few clothing items: a long loose, armless shirt painted in white with an image of a hooded skater in the front, a fresh pair of black baggy pants and last, but at least; a thin black hoodie. She made sure the hood was securely in place in order to hide her neck and that her knives and other items were all located in the correct place. Finally she stepped out of her little room and leaned against the entrance to Sector V’s quarters.

“Are you ready yet, Eva?” she yelled with a grin, absentmindedly playing with her now much shorter hair.

[Vivid]
Eva grinned widely as Melanie opted to join her, the two of them falling into a wild run. They settled into a pace that would be suitable out on the rooftops, but it could easily spell disaster indoors.

“Coming in hot, watch yourselves!” Eva began yelling out as they neared the busier, more populous parts of Sundown, trying desperately to maintain her balance as they dodged around the unsuspecting residents.

“On your left!”
“Coming through!”
“Hug the walls!”
“Move it!”

Every time they turned a corner or made their way through one of the narrower hallways, she snapped out commands that would have brought a tear to a drill sergeant’s eyes.

They finally slowed down as they reached their quarters, but they weren’t done rushing. As Melanie ducked into her little cubicle with a wave, Eva briskly entered her own, slapping the scissors down on the old filing cabinet that she called a nightstand. Dropping to her knee, she yanked the drawers open and began pulling out various items: her various compression wraps, a roll of bandages, a glove. Her fingers skimmed the dark blue material of a baseball cap, tucked safely away at the back of the drawer. She paused for a moment, biting her lip as her fingertips rested against brim, tapping rapidly as she tried to make a decision.

“It’ll all be okay…” She murmured after a moment, squeezing her eyes shut. “Promise.” Slamming the drawer shut, she sat heavily on her bed, ignoring its loud creaks and groans as she began frantically pulling the compression wraps on. Securing the ones around her ankle and knee, she pushed the rest of them into her waistband as she stood to face the wall opposite her. Perched precariously on the top edge of the cubicle was the only hanger she owned, the thin curved wire pushed through the arm holes of her sweater.

”Are you ready yet, Eva?”

Closing her eyes once more, Eva quickly pressed her thumb to her lips and then against the bright red V embroidered into the garment. “It’ll all be okay…” She whispered once more, almost like a prayer. “Promise.” With that, she yanked the coat down roughly, ignoring the sound of the hanger clattering to the ground as she pushed her arms through the holes of the garment. Grabbing a simple leather utility belt, which kept her knives sheathed horizontally at the small of her back, she threw it over her shoulder and walked out.

“Yeah,” She told Melanie with a smile as she adjusted the hood of her coat. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

It wasn’t too far of a run to get to the entrance. There was no doubt that they were late now, but Eva was holding out hope that they wouldn’t be the last ones there. She pulled out the roll of bandages as they jogged, pinching the end between her thumb and palm as she began wrapping her right hand, winding the material several times around her wrist, palm, and between her fingers. “Crap,” She cursed as the bandage slipped awkwardly. “I’ve never had to do this in motion before.” Placing the other end of the bandage between her teeth, she ripped the rest of the roll off crudely, tying the loose end in a tight knot before starting on her left hand.

By the time she finally got both of them squared away, they were outside and quickly approaching the gate. Lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she could just barely make out three figures waiting at the entrance, making her grin.

“Not last,” She sang, giving Melanie a wink as they joined the others, panting lightly as she came to a stop. Leaning her arm up against the gate right next to Church, she crossed her ankles and lifted a hand as if to examine the state of her nails.

“Hey,” She said with a cool voice, trying to play off the fact that they were undeniably late and had just showed up running like the devil was chasing them. Glancing up at their sector leader, she tried to maintain a nonchalant expression, but could feel a guilty smile threatening to break the mask. “How you doin’?” The question ended in a snort as she failed to keep her amusement in check, a hand lifting to her face as she dissolved into laughter.

[Empath]
Melanie grinned widely at Eva’s comment, “yea lucky us!” she said, “now you can’t punish us, Church!” She winked at Church, followed by a wave to the two others. “So where are the others at, anyone know?” she asked after a short while.

Henry

The meeting had been short and barely that sweet, but at least it was nice to see everyone in reasonably good spirits. The data-pad gave all the information he needed about their next assignment. Cultists. Ground-level. Hostages, possibly dead. Things were already terrifying enough as it was, no need to add bat-crazy-insane religious types. Something about it sent shivers down his spine. Aside from that though Henry watched quietly as the others talked amongst themselves as one-by-one they drifted away. Eventually it was just Mel, Kenna and himself. He felt a little uncomfortable for some reason, shifting around awkwardly as a silence settled across them. As Mel sent a wink his way he felt a red flush run through his cheeks and was thankful for the scarf over his face. Such a convenient hiding device. Henry returned a weak wave goodbye and then it was just him and Kenna.

For the first time in his conscious existence Henry felt the ever present risk of having nothing to say. And after a point the silence had remained for so long that it would almost seem more awkward to say something. He looked up. Left. Right. Down…then up again. He let out a cough to clear his throat. And finally built up the courage to talk.

“So…erm…how are you?” his voice was croaky from lack of use, but it just about did its job.

Kenna

A mission - The mission - this, more than anything else that had happened so far, was Kenna’s chance to prove herself to her knew Sector, to at least pretend that she could keep up. Despite her own opinions, she had to make others believe that she wasn’t this meek little weakling from Sector N, that she was capable of the extra push. If she screwed this up, it would paint a very horrible picture of her in missions to come. Kenna didn’t want to be babied, she wanted to pull her own weight, show she was part of the team.

So why was she finding it hard to breathe?

Kenna tried her best to pay attention as raptly as she had when doing boxing with Church and Sonia, but she found her thoughts wandering to the pain in her chest and the twisting in her stomach. The arm that had been punched in the riot was throbbing painfully as all her muscles coiled and tensed, as though she was expecting attack at any moment. Cultists and hostages – that’s about as much as her brain could process.

She tried not to focus on her breathing, or the fact that she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and her whole Sector was right there, but logic failed her and it became all she could think about. Her shoulders were raised and tensed, her hands were shaking and she just knew she was going to get all sweaty and gross.

Kenna focused on her breathing.
In – 1, 2, 3.
Out – 1, 2, 3.
And repeat.

Having calmed herself slightly, Kenna looked up in time to see the rest of the Sector filing out, tailed by Melanie shooting them a wink as she went. Kenna managed a nervous smile in return. She and Henry stood in heavy silence for a while, and she tried very hard not to look at him in case she starts panicking again.

“So... erm... How are you?”

Kenna looked up, fighting a strange urge to laugh at the question for some reason. Kenna gave him a small smile, trying to stop the heat rushing to her face simply because he was talking to her. What is it about social interactions that make her want to throw up?

“I’m...” she hesitated, looking around as though the answer will present itself to her, “I’m alright. Um. N-Nervous, I guess.”

It’s coming back, she realised. She can feel it in her chest, feel the tell-tale burning sensation stinging in her eyes. The tremors in her hands and legs came back with a vengeance, making her unsteady on her feet. Make an excuse, an inner voice told her, make an excuse and get out to calm yourself before it gets any worse.

“U-Um,” she cursed the crack in her voice, “I- I’m going to, uh- walk. Gonna walk.” She inserted what she hoped was a light-hearted laughed but sounded painful even to her own ears. “Cl- Clear my head. Um. Catch you later.”

She left as fast as she could while still trying to make it look like she was totally in control of her emotions. Checking the corridor and making sure it was empty, she moved a few yards away from where Henry was staying and gasped as she felt the first tear streak down her face. Kenna gasped for breath, holding her stomach and shaking. Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God- why can’t she breath? Why does it have to happen now? She’d been doing so well! Kenna met her Sector and did her first boxing session – but now this!?

She silently prayed that no one would come outside.

Henry

Now Henry wasn’t the sharpest knife in the draw when it came to social etiquette, but something inside him said that Kenna’s actions were a bit odd. He couldn’t be totally sure, but he felt as if she was perhaps feeling worse than she was letting on. The man watched he curiously as she turned to leave and swore that he saw her shake. Ever so slightly, but still a shake. And then the most definite of actions, her arm moving to her stomach. What could that be all about? Henry looked down at his shoes…they needed a good clean. His head craned back up to where Kenna was walking away. The quickest of internal battles erupted inside, a sheer 50/50 split in forces for either side. Just ignore the signs and leave, or do what would be considered the human thing and see if there was something wrong.

He turned away, seemingly having decided to leave himself out of whatever it was, but with a last minute sigh and sag of the shoulders swung about and gently strode after Kenna. Catching up to her was easy enough, but in those last few seconds he actually had no idea what to do. Which is why he was surprised to see himself raise his hand and rest it on the girl’s right shoulder, tugging slightly.

“Yo-…you don’t need to pretend,” he started, his plain brown eyes looking as intent as they could “Not around teammates. Not around…friends. Right?”

Henry still didn’t know exactly what it was he could do or say, but something deep inside told him it was the right thing to do. Protecting friends didn’t just extend to whacking bad guys with crowbars. It reached much further than that. It was as if he’d just had a mini-epiphany.

Kenna

Kenna was no closer to calming herself down when she felt the light pressure of a warm hand on her shoulder. She jumped slightly, having not heard the footsteps over her own ragged breathing, and then winced at the bolt of pain that shot down her bruised arm.

Kenna looked up from where she stood, slouched against the nearest wall with one hand wrapped around her stomach as though to calm it and the other placed firmly against the wall, to keep her balanced. Her hands were shaking worse than ever as the nervous attack kicked into gear. She had given up trying to wipe her tears away.

“Yo- ...you don’t need to pretend. Not around teammates. Not around... friends. Right?” Henry told her, just looking at her.

She had never been so simultaneously thankful and fearful to see a person in her entire life, but his words washed over her like water down a dry and stinging throat. He was so utterly calming that, for just a moment, she was able to take a regular breath – slow and calm.
Then the weight of the mission and all her fears and anxieties hit her again and she gasped, looking at Henry through tear-filled eyes, nodding mutely while wishing she could stop crying for one freaking second to tell him how grateful she is that he’s there for her.

“I- It’s just-” she gasped, choking on her own sobs, the dry air piercing her throat painfully, “I- I can’t-”

Waving her hands mutely, she fell into another bout of unintelligible sobbing with half-hearted attempts of apologies drowned in gasping tears. She stayed that way for at least a minute or two, not able to bring herself to confront Henry again until she had more of a grip on herself. Kenna felt awful – not just in the way that she always did after an attack, the sick stomach and dizziness with a feeling like your head is too heavy for your neck to carry – but also that she had to trouble Henry in such a way. From what little she had seen of the fellow rookie, she knew he wasn’t exactly a social butterfly at the best of times, never mind when someone was freaking out and crying.

Finally, her breathing slowed and tears dried up, leaving behind only an uncomfortable itchy feeling and the sensation of her eyeballs themselves feeling swollen in their sockets. Her hands still shook, but only with the last residues of wasted adrenaline leaving her body. Soon enough, she was able to stand up straight and wipe her eyes on the back of her hands, still leaning on the wall for support, and giving Henry a watery, sincere smile of gratitude.

“Um- Sorry. Y’know. That you have to... see that.” She felt her face flame as she thought of what a mess she must had looked. She groaned inwardly. “Thank you,” she told him earnestly, looking him in the face with the same grateful smile tugging at her lips.

“I- I just-” she wondered how to word it, whether she should actually discuss all the mad ramblings and fears in her head. In the end, she decided to dilute it. “I just don’t want... to disappoint anyone.”

Kenna gave another feeble smile, wiping her face on the back of her hand again and trying to get over the abject humiliation she felt. In front of one of her Sector! Honestly, she better do well in this mission if she wanted to get up to speed.

But, she had to admit, she felt quite a bit better knowing that Henry, at least, had her back on this.

Henry

The man’s hand recoiled slightly, jumping at the girl’s full outburst of tears. As she looked up at him with wet eyes, he looked back helplessly, searching her glossy eyes for an answer that so clearly wasn’t there. Something he could say to make her feel better. Henry patted his hand slowly, and ever so awkwardly, on her shoulder as she fell in and out of sobbing fits. A couple of minutes passed before the man joined Kenna slumped against the wall. He pulled down his scarf and took off his hat, trying to appear more…approachable he supposed.

Eventually she managed to calm down of her own accord and spoke more clearly. Disappoint, huh? Henry sighed audibly, but it was a sigh of agreement. Nodding his head at the same time he searched the empty space around them for words of comfort, for some semblance of a sentence that might be beneficial. Unsurprisingly all he found was stuffy air and murky walls. So instead he just started talking without really thinking.

“I think I know what you mean,” he started slowly, stuffing his one free hand into a pocket “You see what these other guys can do, the stuff that they can achieve, and it’s just like…it’s like, how are you supposed to prove you’re good enough to work alongside that? Some of the Runners around here are almost ten years my younger, but I’m the one who feels like a kid. Lost. Confused. Scared. Always worrying I might do something wrong. But you know, I learnt something since I started here.”

At this point the quickest and faintest smile passed across his lips and he looked sideways down at Kenna.

“All that sense of loss, confusion and fear? Your team, your friends. Us. They’ll always be there to help. Church and his enthusiasm. Eva and her big sister act. Marina with all her energy. Klaus, cool and calm. Mel and a joke ready. You couldn’t ask for better. And the only way you could ever disappoint them? Would be if they found out you thought you could ever disappoint them. You shouldn’t…we shouldn’t hide behind masks Kenna,” he paused and tugged at his scarf “Unless it’s to keep us warm.”

The last sentence was said with a definite smile. Was that a joke? Was it even meant to be funny? He wasn’t sure. Honestly he had already forgotten half the things he had just said. He was just surprised at how many words had just flowed from his mouth. He must have talked more in those last few moments than he had for the last few months. A small part of him felt happy for it, the rest just hoped it had helped.

Kenna

Kenna stayed silently perched in her place against the wall, tapping her feet lightly and giving Henry time to think. She wouldn’t be surprised if they just stood there silently for another few minutes. From what Kenna could judge from their brief meetings, Henry wasn’t much of a talker, and she felt bad for burdening him with all her worries now. If she didn’t know how to react to all this and it was in her own head – how the hell was he supposed to?
Once again, she found herself pleasantly surprised at Henry’s response and having to hold back tears for entirely different reasons.

“I think I know what you mean,” he said eventually. “You see what these other guys can do, the stuff that they can achieve, and it’s just like…it’s like, how are you supposed to prove you’re good enough to work alongside that? Some of the Runners around here are almost ten years my younger, but I’m the one who feels like a kid. Lost. Confused. Scared. Always worrying I might do something wrong. But you know, I learnt something since I started here.”

Was that a ghost of a smile that graced the corner of his mouth then, or simply a twitch of the lips? Kenna couldn’t tell, but she found herself looking at Henry in a new light, as though he was a new person. There is so much more to him than simple the quiet rookie who says little – and he is so much better than that. Kenna was, undoubtedly, glad she had met him. Maybe they could help each other out their shells a little, who knows?

“All that sense of loss, confusion and fear? Your team, your friends. Us. They’ll always be there to help. Church and his enthusiasm. Eva and her big sister act. Marina with all her energy. Klaus, cool and calm. Mel and a joke ready. You couldn’t ask for better. And the only way you could ever disappoint them? Would be if they found out you thought you could ever disappoint them. You shouldn’t…we shouldn’t hide behind masks Kenna,” he says, playing with his scarf. “Unless it’s to keep us warm.”

Kenna didn’t miss the pun and, despite how lousy she was feeling – mentally and physically – after her little episode, she cracked a smile and a little snigger burst from her lips. Then a full-on smile appeared on Henry’s face and it seemed to brighten him, weirdly reminding Kenna of a flower that’s gone without water for too long finally being watered again. She’d never seen him with such a sincere smile before, and it cheered her.

Allowing a small silence to stretch between them, Kenna carefully considered her words before saying anything. Whether he thought about his words carefully or just happened to spew them out, she had never heard Henry say so much before and be so undeniably helpful. Great swells of gratitude bloomed in her stomach, driving away the dizziness ever so slightly.

“I...” she cleared her throat, the dryness causing the word to come out croaky and weak, “I guess you’re right.” Kenna twisted her head slightly, shooting him a sideways look. “Thank you, Henry.”

She sighed, tired now, and stood up straight, stretching out her aching limbs.

“I don’t think you have any reason to worry, Henry,” she said smoothly, barely thinking about what she’s saying and not even realising that she actually said a full sentence without a stutter or false start. “You’re more than you give yourself credit for.” Dropping her arms from her stretching, she gave him another sideways look, accompanied by a very un-Kenna like childish grin. “You show those young whipper-snappers how it’s done.”

Kenna felt a sort of connection with Henry that she hadn’t realised before – they aren’t that different, really, are they? They’re both quiet, reserved, and at the extremes of Runner’s age-groups; Kenna, at the youngest end, and Henry and the older side. Despite the age difference between them, Kenna felt closer to Henry than the other so far.

Maybe they weren’t social butterflies like the others. Maybe they were out-going like Marina, cool like Klaus, ready to joke like Mel, motherly like Eva or confident like Church. But maybe that didn’t matter. They had their own skill set – Henry was incomparably kind and he could give one hell of a swing with that crow bar when he wanted to. All Kenna had to do was to find her own skill set.

“Thank you,” she said again, suddenly feeling the weight of her own words and the flush creeping up her neck and across her cheeks. For some reason, Kenna felt awkward whenever complimenting someone, as though worried how they might react to her being so forward.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, looking at her feet.

Henry

He could hardly believe that he’d always managed to muster a few useful words, and more than that he’d even managed to make someone laugh. His first joke was a rousing success! It sent warmth through his whole body, like he was finally managing to be…normal. Almost. He still had this slight niggling feeling that he might say something stupid or do something wrong, but it wasn’t as ever present as it always had been. Somehow he felt comfortable. Or at least more so than he usually did. His smile stayed, as if it was the first time he had ever smiled before and he was taking the time to enjoy it. He even let out a raspy chuckle when Kenna shot out her own joke.

His social skill was now at such a level that he even noticed Kenna’s shift back to awkwardness. So this was the point, he assumed, people would quickly switch subject to avoid any such feelings for as long as possible. Henry’s mind stumbled and stuttered over himself, but his body moved without thinking, pushing himself off the wall and stepping a few feet ahead of the girl. A walk around Sundown might do them both good, his body told his mind. His mind processed this quickly before agreeing, and claiming the idea. He turned halfway to face Kenna and gestured with his hand for her to follow.

“Come on,” he started “Lets grab some drink and food.”

Assured that the girl would follow, Henry turned away to walk and began to weave through the crowd. Sundown was always such a busy and bustling place, it still amazed him how utterly chaotic yet strictly efficient it all was. Amazing really that they had managed to build such a place. Beams of radiant light pierced the various canopies and makeshift structures where it could, and everywhere people had a job to do, or training to complete, or friends to hang out with. The two didn’t pass as many words after their talk, but it was nice to just have company. The food and drinks they got were replenishing enough, though the water could have done with more ice. They even managed a few more jokes, whether it was about themselves, the other V members or even the Elders. After a while they stopped at a sort of wide raised courtyard which looked out over a large part of Sundown and then over to the rest of London. They just sort of stood there in silence, appreciating the view.

But the one problem with downtime was that it never lasted, and soon they realised it was time to join the others. Time to set their minds to a more morbid task. Henry only hoped that their earlier talk would continue to help Kenna. The two slowly wound their way down and back through the crowds, eventually rounding a corner and seeing their teammates in sight. Henry placed his hat back on and adjusted a few bits of clothing, finally making sure his crowbar was firmly in place. It looked as if they were late.

Kenna

Kenna had never really heard Henry laugh before, and even though her meagre quip brought only the smallest sound of joyful breath escaping his lungs, she felt heightened. They were laughing, joking together. She was actually being sociable! And with someone she barely knew! She felt a surge a pride dampen the anxieties that tried to return to her and was pleased to see that Henry’s smile remained in place. Kenna realised that she’d like to see him smile and laugh, to be more involved, and hope that he could do the same when they were with the others and not just her. She also wished the same could be said for her, though she thought it may take time.
Henry must’ve noticed the change in her, the way her feet shuffled on the spot and her hands fumbled in front of her, because he stepped away from the wall and beckoned her towards him.

“Come on,” he suggested, “Let’s grab some drink and food.”

Before she could answer, he turned and started walking. Even more amazingly, without having to think about it, Kenna followed. She felt properly at ease for the first time since she met Sector V. They were all great people – she knew that now – but Henry was the first real connection she made. And to think, it started from her freaking out about a bloody mission! In a way, she was glad it happened.

Kenna dogged Henry without question, keeping pace and saying little for the journey. Neither of them were big talkers and nothing really needed to be said; it was a comfortable silence, squeezing through the bustling crowds of Sundown. More than once, Kenna fell behind slightly trying to walk around a group of Runners, and each time she was sure that Henry deliberately slowed so she could catch up, though neither of them commented on it.

Sundown never failed to amaze her. Corridors that she had wandered when they were deserted seemed totally different when they were full of people – brighter, more alive. There seemed to be light everywhere and Kenna found herself finally starting to feel good about her life as she settled with Henry in the canteen.

She hadn’t realised she was hungry, but Kenna ate her food quite happily. She didn’t want to eat too much and stuff herself before a mission, so she ate small portions, but enjoyed it all the same. Admittedly, she hardly paid attention to what food she was shovelling into her mouth; she was having such a good time just chatting idly with Henry. Kenna wouldn’t have pegged him for the joking type, but he was quick to make little quips about himself, the others in Sector V and even other runners in Sundown. (Kenna particularly enjoyed their jokes about the Elders and choked on her food more than once with laughter). Joking and laughing and chatting – it all came so naturally now that they’d had a little chat, broken the ice. There were times when she lost the ability to speak, panicking lest the conversation die and the magic keeping her social end, but it always carried on, flowing so easily. She hadn’t completely gotten over her stutter, either, nor had she gotten over the habit of over-analysing everything that was said, by others and herself, but the main difference now was the fact that it was hardly bothering her.

Their walk didn’t end there. They wandered to a raised courtyard – Henry leading, Kenna following meekly beside him – and Kenna allowed herself to be wrapped in the silence of it. It was one hell of a view! One of the best that Kenna had ever seen, at least. That was one of the reasons Kenna loved the Runners – the freedom of an open horizon, right in front of them.
Kenna hadn’t stopped smiling.

Eventually, their relaxation ended and they had to go meet with the others. Kenna was quite happy to stroll absently, but was glad that Henry picked up the pace. When they, eventually, came into sight of their team, Kenna saw that they were the last ones. Her anxieties about the upcoming mission, which had been slowly resurfacing meekly, were pushed away with the thought of Oh my God we’re late.

Kenna crossed the courtyard to her team at a half-walk, half-jog, quickly wiping her face again and praying that she didn’t look as pale as she felt and that her eyes weren’t red. She should’ve washed her face before she came down, she realised.
Keeping her gaze low so her fringe covered most of her face and hiding by Henry for good measure, Kenna prepared herself for a scolding.

“U-Uh,” she cursed the reappearance of her stutter, “Sorry. We’re, um, late.” Her voice grew quieter, “Sorry.”

She rubbed the back of her neck absently, fiddling with her hands but trying to stand up straight so she didn’t look like a slob.

“Good- uhm- Good to see you, guys,” she sent them a shaky grin, nowhere near as bright the other’s but still, hopefully, equal parts friendly and apologetic.

Terrified she may be, Kenna was rather looking forward to her first mission as part of Sector V.

There was a strange sort of escapism to be derived from looking into his legs, or at least Churchill had always thought so: a sort of reverie that came with watching the warped, misshapen figures of Sundown’s other denizens reflected in warm, stainless steel.
Over the years, he’d grown accustomed to the wonted, habitual stares of passing Runners as he paced by: He was sure, in different circumstances, he would’ve stared too.
But with that came the comments: Often they were tame, a “that’s new”, or “look at that!”, but it always seemed to be that they were talking about, not him.
That.
He even recalled, when he’d first arrived in Sundown, that some- long retired- physician had called him a ‘chimera’: Even in his youth, Church had known what that was, some monstrous creature made up from the bodies of others.
But that never seemed to matter, when he had the time to watch the reflections pass: Then, it was his turn to acknowledge how odd everybody else looked, their shapes and features contorted into twisted, skewed echoes.
Oftentimes, he even laughed, and lingered too long in the act, not that many seemed to mind too greatly.

The first person to ever spot him doing it was Maggie.
She’d been passing for lunch, and had heard his snickering as her eye-patch’s reflection rendered one half of her doppelganger’s face leathery, ”If I had legs like that, I’d admire them too,”- she’d jested, and teased- ”Tall and legsy… it’s a shame, if you were blonde you’d be just my type.”
For most, it seemed a good-natured, therapeutic hobby: It was only fair that on occasion, he got to remark how Chiaki’s warped reflection was so often lopsided, or how very strange Marina looked as she pranced up to him…

Churchill smiled faintly, eyes still fixated on his metal appendages as the world shuffled by.
The sun was some swirled, flower-shaped orange light, and beneath it all manners of long-limbed, short-bodied sorts glided by.
There went MacReary, his physique- and infamous robes- belittled to an undecipherable head, and long, wispy tail- and Dominika soon after, a blurred ball of enthusiastic energy.
And Klaus, bounding ever closer: A cloud of blonde-haired mist which slowly but surely solidified in his approach…
Wait, Klaus?

In an instant, Churchill snapped to attention, just in time to register his teammate’s greetings.
He felt the heat rushing to his cheeks: Had they spotted him, enraptured by a series of shapes, like some ill-attentive child?
They made no mention, but still his face darkened with the tell-tale signs of some deep embarrassment, made no better by the approach of Eva and Melanie.
Clearly, he’d lingered too long again: Lost as he awaited them.
He cleared his throat, but immediately it tightened again, as though he’d done nothing, “U-Uh. Hey there, Sector V,” he’d greeted, quietly, before spotting Henry and Kenna on their way to joined them.
He’d reeled so quickly from his woolgathering, he hadn’t even noticed that his Sector were, in fact, late: That is, until Eva had assured him that they weren’t last.

It took a few more moments for the Sector leader to fully steel himself: God forbid his team knew he was human, after all.
That was all it took, though, a reminder that although he’d indulged in such silly activities, he had at least done so in the right place, at the right time.
“I mean,” he began, exhaling again as he straightened up, and rolled back his shoulders, “Hello, Sector V,” he cast his eyes around, hard as hail, “And what time do we call this?”
And that, of course, was why it was so important that Sector V in particular never knew of his hobby: Because it was Church’s job to keep them alive, and who would heed the orders of a child at heart?
Better they never saw deeper than his sardonic skin, he thought. Better they never knew it hurt to punish them.

Thinking of which, Church turned his head to Melanie: He grinned, but it was a wry, thin grin, physically synonymous with a grimace, “Who says I can’t punish you? I can punish you whenever I want,” he assured her, tone mocking, “I’m just less likely to do it when you all arrive when I tell you to.”
He lingered for a moment, waiting for that message to sink in, before throwing his eyes about.
“I’d have you running laps,” he began, although his tone quickly lightened to the likes of being more playful, “But by the time you finish, John Gunner and his government will have died of old age, tardy bunch that you are.”
With that, he took the data-pad MacReary had handed him earlier, and passed it around the group, issuing the order that they read-up before he continued.



When they’d finished, Church had mostly regained his decorum, straightening his back further and folding his arms behind it, to maintain a slightly more powerful stance.
He felt as if- if any of them had spotted him- he needed to assert himself again, and regain their respect, “Now I know what you’re all thinking. The first sector on the ground in twenty years, aren’t we special?”, he began pacing back and forth in front of them, “And you know what? No, you’re not. You’re unlucky, you’re very unlucky.”
He nodded, to affirm his point, “Because I have no idea what it was like in Germany, or Belgium, but I was born down there, raised down there. And without a drop of the Servitutem in me,” he explained, gesturing broadly to the city outside of Sundown, “And let me tell you, it’s a whole lot worse than you think it is. London is not a city full of singing street urchins, and by no means should you consider yourself at home. But do you know what it is full of? Air. And that’s going to be a problem.”

He glanced around again, and eventually stopped pacing, his form growing a little laxer.
“Your bodies, your genetics, are designed to function at this altitude. You flourish when you’re breathing thinner, oxygen rich air. It’s what makes your heart pump and- when you hit the runner’s high- your head swim. But you won’t have any of that on the ground.”
He frowned, “No. You’re going to feel slow, you’re going to feel lethargic and you’re going to feel sluggish. It’s not just oxygen down there, it’s a whole lot of carbon, and your lungs just aren’t going to be prepared for it…”

Then, his expression weakened, so betray his concern, “So… I don’t want to see any acrobatics on the way down, okay? You aren’t going to be able to maintain it. If you’re in trouble, call for me: Otherwise, keep it simple.”
Churchill scratched the back of his neck, as if it were a worrisome tick, “And I know you think it won’t affect you, but believe me, it will. You aren’t going to be the special cases, not with your genetics. I’m sorry, but there are no miracles, and this is no miraculous life. Trust me on this.”

With that explained, Churchill paused for a few moments- as if to allow everyone time to process what he’d said- before his shoulders dropped, and he sighed wearily.
He had to admit, it pained him to act so authorative at times: He’d seen, particularly in Melanie, that it sometimes drew his Sector’s ire…
But they could hate him all they wanted, as long as they were alive.
“Alright… I think that’s everything. If you’re all prepared, then we can-”
He hesitated, and threw a few glances around, “Has… has anybody seen Acacia?”

Late.

Acacia sure knew how to make a good first impression.

“I’m sorry!” she called when she finally made it back to the courtyard and saw that she was the last to arrive, issuing another breathless apology as she skidded to a halt at the edge of the group. Her cheeks and neck were flushed, partly from the breakneck pace she had managed to maintain for almost the entire trip from the medical ward, and partly -- mostly -- from the waves of embarrassment that washed over her with increasing force as she tried to catch her breath.

“I, uh,” she began, praying it wouldn’t sound like an excuse, “I had to get some stuff from the med ward.” As she spoke, Acacia tugged self-consciously at her left sleeve; her arm and shoulder were already half-covered in a spectacular reddish-blue bruise, although icing it had helped to keep the swelling down some. At least she matched her team now.

In truth, she had spent a ridiculous amount of time checking, and re-checking, her pack once her arm had been tended to. She wanted to be sure she had everything she might need on this mission, because if she wasn’t properly prepared, her team would suffer. But she didn’t want to bring too much, or she might get weighed down and lag behind.. This cycle of indecision led her to unpack her supplies multiple times, only to throw everything back in after a few minutes of scrutiny -- lather, rinse, repeat. Anxiety was a pretty foreign emotion to Acacia, who always seemed to carry an extra helping of optimism in her back pocket, so she found herself ill equipped to do much else but succumb to her newfound neurosis until it subsided on its own. This was a new, exciting, terrifying step in her life, and the absolute last thing she wanted to do was falter when others were counting on her.

She realized, too late, that by wasting so much time worrying about nothing -- in the end, not a single item was added or removed from her kit -- she might have come very close to doing exactly what she was afraid of. She would have to work on some coping skills. Meditation, maybe. For now, she just hoped she hadn't done any permanent damage to her still-developing reputation.

[SECTOR V – SUNDOWN]

“Hello, Sector V,” he cast his eyes around, hard as hail, “And what time do we call this?”
Marina looked around blankly, checking her wrist (to no avail, she didn’t know how to read analog watches and digital watches were something she’d had no luck acquiring) and looking back up at Church with a furrowed brow. After a moment of thoughtful silence she brightly replied, “Pass!”
“12:17, schwester,” Klaus replied dryly. After some scolding, the datapad was passed around. Marina read through it with surprising speed and happily passed it on to her brother. Klaus looked through it with a sigh, “Tsk. Gottverdammt… I thought Omegas and Spectres would be the only troublemakers…” He then handed the datapad over to the next person.
“So… I don’t want to see any acrobatics on the way down, okay? You aren’t going to be able to maintain it. If you’re in trouble, call for me: Otherwise, keep it simple.”
Klaus listened to Church’s explanation aptly, nodding understandingly. He knew it’d be rough down there – He’d been there too, and Germany was barely better than London. Marina, however, didn’t remember what it was like down there; So while Klaus nodded in understanding, Marina simply puffed out her chest and grinned.
“A little air’s not gonna beat me, I’m the best there is!” Klaus sighed gently.
“Schwester, you really should be careful down there… Church is making a good point here, it’s no longer what we’re used to.” Marina simply pouted.
“A~lright, I’ll be careful.”
“Has… has anybody seen Acacia?”
Marina peered around curiously, “I was practicing with her earlier… She said she was gonna go to the med-bay!” As Klaus turned his head, a call of ”I’m sorry! was heard.
“Ah, there she is. Guten tag, frau Acacia.” Marina pumped her fist playfully.
“Yes! I’m not the only one late!” Klaus cleared his throat, and Marina rubbed her neck in apology, “Ahah, apologies.”
“Well, Church. Do you think we’re prepared to head off? Schwester und I are.”

[OMEGAS – TABITHA REYNARD]

Tabitha sat up in bed and yawned, promptly throwing the blankets off and getting to her feet. Usually, she was an early riser. Usually she was up early enough to see the blurry eyes of the younger Omegas, but today was an odd day. She showered in the regular fashion; quick and prompt, and then sat on her unmade bed to comb down her hair. It seemed particularly unruly today, but she eventually managed to comb it down. Getting back to her feet, her eyes caught sight of her usual attire – That black dominatrix gear, sat proudly on its hanger. But as she scanned it over carefully, an odd thought went through her head. A strange, foreign one she had rarely – if ever – heard.
”I don’t feel like wearing that.” Her brow slowly furrowed into a thoughtful frown.
”There’s not really a choice, is there? You have to wear something.”
“Yes. But I don’t want to wear that. not today.” Slowly she went over and opened the wardrobe her usual attire hung onto. The inside was bare, even barer than she remembered. It was strange, she recalled having a full wardrobe, once upon a time. But now there was just one outfit – A deep purple tracksuit.
”That thing looks gaudy.”
She took it out of the wardrobe.
”Who’s going to take a dominatrix in a tracksuit seriously?”
She slipped it off of the hanger.
”Come on, look at the colour. It matches your hair. Who wears a tracksuit that matches their hair?
She put on her underwear and placed the hanger back in the wardrobe.
”… You’re going to wear that no matter how much I complain, aren’t you?”
“Bingo.”
“You’re just… Impossible.”
She put her feet into the trousers, fit her arms through the sleeves and zipped the ensemble up. After a quick glance in the mirror, she put a pair of shoes on and left.

Through hearsay and questioning, Tabitha eventually found out Roark’s location, and within a fairly short time she had found the man himself, as well as his ‘student’, so to say. As she approached him she held up a hand in a short wave, “Hello, Roark. And you too, Rusiana,” She gave the Russian a glance and a quick nod of acknowledgement, “How goes the training? I must say, I have had quite an odd day so far. Everyone kept giving me odd glances, and asking if I was alright.”

Each time Church opened his mouth, Kenna felt an extra pound of guilt settle in her stomach. True, he said his accusations with a wry smile and a light tone, but being late to her first mission made her feel especially lousy. Hi! I’m Kenna, I’m new to one of the most reputable sectors in Sundown, but I can’t complete a sentence without stuttering, I break down in front of fellow members – oh! And I’ll be late to my first mission. Good luck with that!

She winced at her own thoughts. She shouldn’t be reverting back to that negative way of thinking already! She had just done so well, laughing with Henry like a normal person without much worrying, but now that she was with a group she was automatically slipping into that old rut. With the first mission soon to commence, Kenna couldn’t risk being distracted by such menial things – She was late, she got berated, end of discussion. Learn from your mistakes and all that, she just had to be careful not to be late again.

If only she could tell herself that in a way that would make her believe it.

Back when they were in Sector N together, Kenna never really understood Sonia’s nicknames for people (or the more recent ‘Church Kitty’ comments) but now, Kenna could fully understand why the girl had labelled her with the ‘Negative Bunny’ tag. She couldn’t say she agreed with the nickname, but Kenna could see where Sonia was coming from.

When the data-pad got passed around to her after Klaus, Kenna read it fully – twice – before passing it on to the next person, torn between apprehension and anticipation for the upcoming mission. It didn’t make sense to Kenna, the very concept of religion, it seemed... far-fetched. The belief that some greater being is responsible for all existence seemed dubious at best. However, she wasn’t one to scorn it. She felt envious of those able to have that faith to the extent that the existence of the greater being grants them a sense of safety, of comfort. She wished she had something like that, a proverbial safety-blanket.

Despite her not-scorning rule, Kenna had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at the thought of immunity to the Servitutem formula being a gift from God. Kenna wasn’t especially smart or anything, and she didn’t understand half of it, but she knew that immunity was gained solely by genetic and scientific means. Or, at least, that’s how she understood it. Still, that’s extremists for you.

As she read, a phrase on the data-pad stuck out to her – ground level.

Kenna hadn’t been on real ground for more than six months, the last time being just before she took to the rooftops in search of the Runners. Weirdly enough, despite how much she loved being a part of Sundown, Kenna was looking forward to being on real solid ground again. It’d been a while, longer than she had ever thought. It seemed odd now, to think that being on solid ground would be such an unfamiliar thing to her when it’s something that she experienced every day as a Wage Slave. Then again, she always said that life as a Wage Slave could hardly be considered living. Runners gave up a lot, sure – c’mon, hot chocolate was considered a delicacy! – but Wage Slaves gave up their freedom. Was it worth being a mindless non-entity if it meant she believed she was happy? Were the Runners any better, having freedom yet being faced with hardships? Neither seemed especially desirable, but that’s life she supposed.

Church’s warning stuck out to her, drawing her away from philosophies. She hadn’t thought about the differences in altitude or the effect that would have on the oxygen levels. Slow and sluggish? Kenna already feared her performance with the new sector, never mind when her limited skills were hindered! She just had to try harder, that’s all. Make that extra effort, take extra care. The rest of Sector V knew that she was young and inexperienced, so they’d probably cut her some slack, right? Like what Henry had said to her – they’d be disappointed if they knew that she thought she could disappoint them. They’re bound to be as accepting as Henry, so she had nothing to worry about. Right.

But her hands were shaking. Different from when she was having an attack, this time purely from nerves. The kind of nerves that you’d get before an important meeting, or when trying something new. This is all it was. Kenna was trying something new, going on her first mission as a part of V. No worries. Okay.

“So... I don’t want to see any acrobatics on the way down, okay? You aren’t going to be able to maintain it. If you’re in trouble, call for me: Otherwise, keep it simple.”

That lessened the knots of worry in her stomach and Kenna felt herself relax slightly. At least there was no pressure to do anything flashy, and Church had offered his help to those who needed it so he’d hardly belittle anyone who took him up on his offer. The thought comforted Kenna to the extent that she had to hold in a rare snort of laughter – as if she could perform any acrobatics anyway!

Acacia joined them and Kenna felt herself relax just that little bit more. It may be a bit more underhanded than she was used to, but Kenna was glad that she wasn’t the last one to arrive. Even so, she greeted Acacia with a glance in her direction and a brief wave.

As the tension coiled in her muscles dissipated, Kenna felt her excitement for the dawning mission increase. It would be rough, being on ground level, and it’d probably get a little hairy at times, but Kenna was looking forward to the opportunity. She could run, taste that freedom, and hopefully be of some use to her Sector. Maybe her timid personality could come in handy. If she tried hard, then the no doubt down-right lousy expectations of her performance could be beaten and she could prove herself to be better than her Sector had anticipated.

At the end of the day, Kenna was a Runner, a part of Sundown. And she was no less competitive than the rest of them.

As Church berated them lightheartedly, Eva maintained an amused expression, the corners of her mouth curling upwards as her eyebrows slanted in the same direction. At a glance, she looked laid back, if not a bit embarrassed. Her hands had disappeared into her pockets, but she continued to lean up against the gate like she owned the place. She was calm, relaxed, confident…she was Eva Janssen, second-in-command of Sector V, she couldn’t be anything but confident.

If anyone were to look closely, though, they would see the way her chest barely rose and fell with each shallow breath she took. They would see the way the muscles of her jaw trembled as she grit her teeth, and they would see the tightness around her eyes, the stiffness of her neck and shoulders, the outline of a fist clenched so tightly it was beginning to quiver in her pocket.

In truth, Eva was anything but relaxed – and she certainly wasn’t confident, though not for lack of effort. She was glad to be out of the infirmary, and especially grateful for the chance to get back out into the open air, but she felt like she was watching a nightmare unfold in front of her. As hard as she was trying to convince herself otherwise, she wasn’t ready for another mission in any way, shape, or form – especially not this one.

The last mission had been a disaster, even if it had ultimately ended in success. There had been too many close calls. Valeria had practically crippled her, and then Church as well when he was forced to come to her rescue. He had, quite literally, come face to face with death in the form of a gun barrel pressed to his forehead – it was the first time that Eva had ever truly feared she might lose him, and it was a fear so intense she felt she could have suffocated on it.

In her frantic attempt to save him, a child had been injured…possibly worse. She couldn’t bring herself to ask. But worse yet…she felt no remorse. She would never forgive herself for bringing harm to a child, but she couldn’t regret taking the actions needed to save Church, her sector leader, her friend, her partner in crime. She didn’t know what she would do if she ever lost him. She couldn’t bring herself to imagine life without a single member of her sector – the world may as well just stop turning.

And yet, here they stood – Sector V was fully assembled, and Daisy’s face was not among them. The girl, who had been a teammate and friend alike, was dead…yet the world kept turning. Life went on. They hadn’t even had a chance to properly grieve the loss, and they were already headed out on another mission. And it terrified Eva more than she would have ever thought possible.

She wanted to protect each and every one of them herself, but even her stubborn ego knew that wasn’t possible. She wanted to tell Church to shut up and take them back inside, to call the mission off and keep them all locked away somewhere safe. She wanted to get on her knees and beg them not to go, to disband Sector V and have each of them go into a safer profession.

But she knew she couldn’t do that – and not just because they would be in a world of trouble if they just abandoned a mission. It was because they were Runners. They lived for this. They were meant to run from the moment they were born, and it simply wasn’t an option to just…stop. That was like asking a fish to grow a pair of legs and start walking on land. Running was in their nature, they were either born or bred for it. The life of a Runner was far from easy – they wouldn’t be living it if they weren’t cut out for it, if it wasn’t the only option they had.

So, Eva kept her mouth shut and smiled and nodded compliantly as Church spoke, hiding the fact that every word he said felt like a stake being driven straight through her heart. Her feet had not touched the ground since she left Belgium. She had been young at the time, so she didn’t remember much, but she remembered enough to know not to doubt Church’s words. The ground level was dangerous and risky, and they were headed straight for it.

She was consumed with worry, so lost in her thoughts that she barely even skimmed over the contents of the datapad as it was passed to her before sending it on its way to the next individual. That was going to pose a problem – she couldn’t afford to be distracted, not right now. They would be descending soon, and she needed to focus. They had several relatively new Runners, and she needed to make sure she would be available to lend a hand if they needed one – she wouldn’t be much help if she was getting herself into trouble simply because she was too busy being paranoid.

Her eyes fell on the large bruise decorating the Acacia’s shoulder as the medic joined them, and she grimaced, thinking of what Nadine had told just half an hour ago. It was her responsibility to look out for their newest members – sitting back and mulling over everything that could go wrong really wasn’t going to do them any good. Clearing her throat quietly, she pushed off against the gate and finally decided to actively join in the conversation.

“Well, it sounds like we’ve got one hell of a job ahead of us! I’m tempted to crack a joke or two at our dear leader’s expense right now, but I’m actually going to be taking his lead on this one. He knows what he’s talking about. While we’re out there, just keep your ears open and if he tells you to run, you run. He tells you to jump, don’t even ask how high, you just jump. As long as you listen to him, you’ll be just fine.” Tilting her head, she gave them a bright grin, doing her best to look encouraging. “What he said goes for me as well – if you hit any snags along the way, just give me a holler. Those of you that have joined more recently, if you’re nervous, go ahead and pick a ‘senior’ to tail – we’ll take care of finding good lines, you just follow our lead and focus on running. Stay close, but not so close that you’re tripping over each other’s shoe laces, alright?”

Taking her hands out of her pockets, she turned to speak to Church directly, letting her grin shrink slightly. She knew there wasn’t much use in trying to pretend with him, but she still kept a lighthearted smile plastered firmly against her face. “If you’re going to be leading the way, I’ll take up the rear. If you don’t mind, that is,” She chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck lightly. “Wouldn’t want to step on your toes, or anything.”

Henry

He wasn't sure if he had imagined it, if perhaps he had just caught things from the wrong angle, but as he and Kenna appraoched Henry swore he spotted Church looking, well...looking lost in his own thoughts. It wasn't as if he'd know the other Runner for an extensive period of time, but it made him feel a little perplexed all the same. The man might have pondered on it more, but his thoughts were instantly bowled over by the presentation of a data-pad. Whereas others might have given it a quick skim to search for the important parts, Henry made sure to give the whole thing a thorough reading.

It wasn't so much the idea of potentially murderous cultists coming after him with sharp pointy things that scared Henry, rather more it was the concept of going back down there. To a place full of the lifeless living, a place he'd once been firmly stuck in. A swirl of concerns swept through his brain. What if the place dragged him back in? What if someone recognised his face? What if he ran into his family? He hadn't realised it but Henry completely spaced out, his eyes glazing over slightly. When he did finally snap out of it the man just simply handed the data-pad along slowly and distracted himself by listening to the others.

The last thing he wanted to do was give them reason to doubt him. To help in the task of distraction, Henry began to make sure his crowbar was firmly in place and all his attire properly tied or buttoned. But it wasn't just the group at large he had to reassure. Now he had to appear strong for Kenna. If she looked to him for confidence and found him wanting it could ruin what he'd said earlier. Henry hadn't really thought this whole thing through.

Now he actually had to act as if he was braver. No easy task.

“Oh come on Church!” Melanie exclaimed as he threatened them for being late, “it was merely a small delay, you shouldn't kill us for it...!” Melanie tried to stay serious, but even her try at appearing annoyed, crossing her arms in front of her chest and pouting didn't stand the test of time. Instead her frown quickly turned upwards, following the path of her lips before she annoyingly added “or you might just see 'camp-McReary' gain a few more members!”
Grinning and winking playfully to the other members of Sector V, before she took the datapad and engrossed herself in the intelligence they had received for their next mission. It took her a short time to comprehend the words and sentences that was written on the datapad, but soon it dawned on her what the meaning behind the text was.
“Great...” she exhaled in a loud sigh, “why did it has to be religious cultists? They are always so extreme from what I've heard from back in the day...” she grumbled.
“Hey Church!” she spoke out loud before she looked up from the datapad and handing it on to the next Runner, “why is it always us…”
Melanie shut her mouth with an audible snap, she hadn’t noticed that her leader had started speaking before she had even finished the briefing. Oh... she thought to herself when she realised what Church was talking about, ground level, huh?
For most Runners Melanie’s past was still somewhat shrouded in mystery - something that arguably didn’t help her fit in better. The few that knew could be counted on one hand, she had, after all, not opened up to that many and had only told those that needed to know about her past. Usually when the topic of someone’s past came up in a conversation between Runners (not that it did that often since most were painted in the colours sadness and pain) Melanie either evaded the questions or escaped either physically or in the verbally. However, those that knew something about her knew that at least some of her past had been set in the dark, water soaked streets of New London. And now she had to return to her ‘home’.
It sure has been some time... she thought to herself, the memories of a past that felt so distant erupted within her mind in one raw vortex. The memories of rain, hunger, fear, cold, loneliness. They still haunted her.
I wonder what happened to the others Melanie asked herself, while she had no recollections of names, the images of those that had taken care of her, hurt her and mattered to her was still etched into the backside of her eyelids, every time she closed her eyes the images spawned visions of what had happened, not just back then, but also what happened after she escaped the ‘streets’...
And then there was Ethan.
Rubbing the back of her neck, Melanie let out a deep sigh. She did not want to think of him. She had promised him everything, but she had yet to give him anything.
Letting out another sigh, her hand moved from her neck to the tip of her now shortened hair, it seemed like it had become a habit of hers to play with her hair since she got it cut - obviously she had to do something about it later…
“So,” she started, prolonging the sound for a bit longer than a standard word, before she continued. “Besides heading down below, what other possible problems could occur?”
Melanie suddenly appeared rather uncomfortable, looking around the group before coughing to clear her throat, she added with a slow voice. “Should we expect armed resistance…?”
The episode from their last mission still breathed heavily in the back of her mind, not what happened, but what the consequences could have been.