Dreams often come and go for just about everyone. This dream, though...it was different. It was more vivid...it almost felt...real, in a way.

The scene was set in a large room, a round table sitting in the center, a lone man at the head with a small smile. He wore a robe with a small blood red circle emblazoned on the right breast, a cross marking through that circle. The only one at the table other than the man was a young boy who couldn't be older than fifteen, messy brown hair framing a boyish face. From your perspective, though, it couldn't really be clear what they were looking at.

The one thing that could be seen was the corpse laying lifeless in the chair, blood seeping from the hole in her temple. It was a young girl, not much older than the boy. Her black hair stretched down to her elbows, blood dirtying it now. Much more couldn't be discerned before attention was drawn back to the pair facing each other at the table.

“Cut the crap!” the boy roared in rage. “You think this is a game!? You killed her!”

The man let out a sigh. “I did not. She simply chose wrong,” he responded. “And, need I remind you? That's precisely what this is. A game.” He gestured to something on the table. “Now, please. Continue. You wouldn't want to forfeit at the last turn now, would you?”

The boy's form grew rigid, but he reached forward, clutching a revolver that had been sitting on the table. Slowly, he lifted it to his head and pulled the trigger.

You awaken in a cold sweat. There had been similar dreams in the past, but this was the first one that was...so real. It was almost as if you were actually there.

Gil slowly opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. The fan spun above him, the ball bearing slowly giving out over time. Click. Click. He didn't see it, he was staring up at the ceiling because he was thinking. Russian Roulette. Or something similar. An interesting game. Of course, anyone who challenges you to it has rigged the guns.

He raises a hand to his head, and pulls it back, staring at it. Sweat. Shortness of breath. My heart is beating more rapidly than usual. My body is displaying fear signs. Why? I don't care anything for what happens in a dream. And yet... He felt a shiver down his spine. "It's not because it felt real. I've been in danger before."

Of course I never actually died...

The clock read eight in the morning. Later than many sleep in. Of course, Gil hardly has to work a nine to five. He stretched his limbs, and got up to go about his day. After a thorough shower, he flicks open his straight edge razor. Lather, and carefully sweep across the face. Not a scratch. My hands are no longer shaking. He brushes his teeth, two minutes on the dot. Then three more in front of the mirror.

Smile. Repeat.

He practices his smile in front of the mirror for those three minutes. It comes easier this morning because he doesn't feel like smiling. When he feels like smiling he can't seem to stop showing his teeth, and that doesn't make for a useful smile.

Still not quite able to shake the strange feeling from his dream, he decides to go out to his favorite breakfast restaurant. It's a locally owned place that serves the best fried potatoes he's ever had the pleasure of tasting. A bit pricey, but Gil couldn't care less about such things. He stopped caring about being frugal a long while back.

Smile practice comes in handy when he meets his favorite waitress for the day. She tends to light up the room when he smiles his charming little smile at her. More importantly, she tends to prioritize his table if he just smiles. It's worth bothering with. Of course it doesn't hurt that he tips better than most, which is only polite.

Net rolled out of bed. Literally. She hit the floor with a solid thud that should have startled her awake. The only reason it didn't, was that she was already awake. She'd awoken from the dream, freaked out and petrified. Laying face first in her pillow, everything had been dark, and she couldn't breath. She'd rolled to get out of her pillows, and ended up out of the bed. "Owww...." The young woman rubbed her hip right hip. She'd landed on it first.

"Stupid dream." Clarinet climbed to her feet, disentangling from her blankets. A small, black cat watched her from the dead center of her bed. "No wonder I fell off. Stupid cat, taking up all the room!" She scooped the tiny creature up into her arms for a snuggle. "You're suppose to chase away nasty things! Like bugs, and mice, and bad dreams! I named you Dreamcatcher for a reason!" The reason had, actually, been for the marking on her chest. It was round and webby. With the cat's paws dangling below, Net had been reminded of the charms. She'd thought the name quite sweet.

"Come on, Dream," She shivered for a second, remembering the young girl. "Where did that even come from?" Head shaking, Net trotted down the hall and into her bathroom. There was no way she was going to feel clean, not after that dream, until she had scrubbed herself pink from head to toe. "How could that man even sit there!" She demanded of her companion. "He just let a girl die, and he just sat there!" Catching the early signs of her personal panic, she shut her eyes. "No...stop." A long sight escaped her. "Happy, happy, happy. It was a stupid dream, no one really died. Think happy." She was suppose to be in class in an hour. But class was never happy. "I think I'll go shopping today." She informed her feline as she undressed. "I could use a new pair of boots. And a cute dress to match! Would you like a new toy mouse? Maybe I'll take you to the pet store." She flicked on the shower, as hot as she could stand.

Dreamcatcher perched on the edge of the bathtub, watching as water rolled down the curtain. "Merrrr?" She swatted at a few stray drops, then shook her paw indignantly. This water was wet. Tail in the air, she leaped down off the edge of the tub, and trotted back down the hall. Her human rejoined her a half hour later, hair dripping, and wrapped in a towel. Dreamcatcher promptly snubbed her, and went to sit by her empty food dish.

Clarinet dressed quickly. She adored dresses, but decided on a skirt today. Skirts were almost as good as dresses. It was a dark blue skirt, and she paired it with a cream colored top, and brown boots. Her eyes flicked over to her phone, charging on the bedside table. She picked it up, checked for messages, and dropped it again. That done, she grabbed her purse from yesterday. As she dumped some keys, lipstick, hairbands, a toy mouse, some gum, and whatever else was in her red purse, into a brown one, she surveyed her bedroom. She fed her cat in her room, and could see that there was still a ring of food around the inside edge. She supposed she should toss a little more on top, though. The water dish was still filled.

"Ooooh! Breakfast!" The thought of feeding her cat reminded Net she had to feed herself. She decided she was going to pop down to her favorite cafe for a nice little breakfast pastry, a cup of coffee with too much cream and sugar, and maybe a chance to flirt with a cute customer or two. None of the boys working the counter were old enough for her. There were only two, and they both seemed to be barely in high school. The girls were nice to chat with, though. She dumped a random amount of food into her cat's dish, and decided it would be good for the day. Likely, it was good enough for three days. "Good girl, Dreamcatcher. I'm gunna garb some breakfast, then some boots, and two new dresses, and a purse, and a boyfriend, and then I'll come take you to the pet store!"

Net scratched the eating cat's ears, then exited her bedroom. Net entered her bedroom. Clarinet scooped up her purse, draped it over her shoulder, and exited the bedroom.

Dreamcatcher's ears flicked towards the sound of the front door locking. It unlocked. Net sprinted back into the bedroom to grab her phone. A few minutes later and the front door locked again. Dreamcatcher snubbed her food and went to drink the water puddled on the bottom of the tub.

Teres bolted awake suddenly, her heart pounding almost as much as her head was. She groaned as she glanced around, the sun pouring in to the room through the gaps at the edges of the curtains. Her head ached and she felt tired, though the memory of the dream she had just had was still fresh in her mind and she felt almost completely alert already, a most unusual feeling for her in the morning. She ran her hand through her blonde hair, now little more than a tangled and matted mess as she yawned before sighing and turning her mind to the images she had just witnessed.

What an odd dream, and more-so odd that she had actually remembered it. A dead girl, a boy soon to be dead? Who was that man, and why were they all playing with a loaded gun? A few thoughts raced through her mind before it went back to the robe he had been wearing and more importantly the symbol that had adorned it… what was it again? A small blood red circle emblazoned on the right breast, a cross marking through that circle – she remembered it quite clearly, and with the thought in her mind she scrambled out of her bed and towards a discarded pad of paper and pencils, keeping the image in her head in-case it slipped away, excited to have finally remembered anything from a dream, or nightmare as it seemed.

She sketched up the symbol several times before deciding on one that she was happy with before tearing the page out of the little scrapbook and carrying through into the kitchen as she examined it. Moving through the doorway she suddenly stubbed her toe against the doorframe, her eyes widening as pain shot through her foot and caused her to scream before repeatedly cursing as she hopped about a bit, dropping the bit of paper as she did so. Swearing once more she moved over to the counter before taking a seat and lifting her foot into her hands, examining her toe closely as her previous thoughts of the symbol were forgotten, whining noises escaping her as she cradled her foot.

Satisfied that she hadn’t done any permanent damage she glanced over at the wall clock before she gasped in slight amazement at how early it was. Two minutes past eight, she struggled to remember the last time she had been up and about so early, let alone as awake as she felt at the moment. Resisting the urge to swear again as she stood, she half walked, half limped over to the bathroom to prepare herself for the day – though now in a thoroughly bad mood.

Emerging from the bathroom some time later and in a considerably better mood Teres wasted little time in doing her hair, makeup and dressing herself, before doing a brief tidy of the coffee table and seating area, bottles, rubbish and ashtrays littering around haphazardly. She made a black coffee before seating herself with her feet up across the table, laptop in her lap and a cigarette in her mouth as she powered the device up. She wondered briefly what to do with her morning, seeing as she had an entire morning and a day, before deciding that hopefully she would do nothing. She cycled through her different email inboxes looking for anything interesting or that would demand her immediate attention, the odd dream entirely forgotten for the moment as she clicked away.

As she refreshed the final inbox she had to check she flinched as a mail popped up, delivered yesterday with the subject only as ‘Delivery Required’, the sender being one whom she instantly recognised as a sleezeball who liked to call himself Knight, or rather a disposable email he had obviously set up to contact her. The only reason she tolerated any such contact from him was a simple one. Good, easy money.

The email read ‘Dear Miss Summers, Your presence is required asap regarding a delivery exchange. Please contact me on the usual number. K’

She knew that that meant he basically wanted her to deliver drugs or some other illegal package to one of his higher end contacts, basically something that none of his usual dealers was qualified to handle with the required subtlety or finesse. The last time she had done so was to some penthouse and she’d been forced to hang around for hours as ‘arm-candy’ for the guy who she had delivered to, a large pale guy who had tried several times to get her between his legs – something which she had not appreciated considering she was just the delivery girl.

Picking up her phone she scrolled through her contacts until she found his name, hesitating briefly as she hovered over the call button, summoning the mental strength she required to speak with him. Her stomach lurched briefly as she hit the button and listened as the phone rang, a few moments later a woman’s voice answered.

“Who is this?” asked Teres uncertainly.

“Oh I see. Well when he gets up tell him it’s Wrath, I got his email.”

“Now? Right now?”

“Fine, where?”

“I’ll be there in twenty” and with that she hung up the phone before stubbing her cigarette out and standing. “Great” she said sarcastically to herself, not at all impressed that she now had to not only leave the house for work, but to also get changed into one of her more presentable outfits to better blend with the more respectable levels of society.

"Fuck this" she said sourly to herself, already sulking “think of the money”.

“B-Blood…!” Theo gasped and suddenly fell into a coughing fit, the dryness in his throat taking its toll. The image of a blood-matted hair and a floor drenched in black stains flashed within his mind. He swallowed as his eyes flickered to the discarded t-shirts and jackets scattered around thin carpet, to the barren shelves that hung on the walls. The only source of light was the digital clock flashing a red 7:30 AM across the screen, and the morning light edging its way at the gaps in the blinds. Hesitantly, the young man tugged at the scarf around his neck, loosening the fabric tangled with sweat.

There was no smiling man dressed in a robe or a rigged boy with brown hair within his sight. No frantic rage filling the silence or the smell of old blood stuffing the room.

Nothing was out of place.

That dream… Too weird. Theo sighed and plopped back into bed. It was way too weird. He had dreams. Dreams he could not remember, those that was forgotten as soon as they appeared. However, this vision – this fantasy – was something he could clearly recall for the first time. Never before could he stare at the people inside his dreams, taking note of the emotions twisting the boy’s face or the pale complexion of a corpse. That man… That man was smiling; it was a smile no matter how small. Just what was that whole thing about anyway? The girl was dead, but the boy was still willing to play. The endgame must've been worth something.

Theo stared at the ceiling, pulling the pillow over his head and the covers over his body. He was going back to sleep. He would be damned if he couldn’t after a rough night like that. Not only did he have practice today, but a two mid-term tests and a try-out at the end of the week. It didn’t help that he had to stay up for his brothers’ football game last night. Slowly, he closed his eyes.

“THEOOOOOOOOO!”

Dammit… At the sound of his name, Theo groaned as he turned to his side, the blankets forming a protective shell, as a pair of heavy footsteps approached his door.

“Theo! Get up!” There was someone at his door already. A deep feminine voice pounded through the wood like a massive jackhammer. “We’re late!”

“…Five more minutes…” Theo grumbled softly, burying himself further into the comfort of his bed.

“No, we got to go!”

“Go away…”

“We’re going now!”

As the person at his door quickly walked away, Theo let out a breath of relief. However, just as he was about to sleep once again, the alarm suddenly blared alive. It was nothing more than a muffle beneath his pillow, but it was still enough to wreck him wide awake once again. He peered at the clock. It was eight in the morning. There was only ten minutes before the first bell.

As much as he wanted to tear the clock’s batteries out, there was an enemy with a bucket of cold water coming its way. Mustering his strength, he pushed himself up and shoved the mass of blankets to the side before stumbling his way to the door. Along the way, he almost tripped on the clothes hazardously tossed around on the carpet. A vest, a shirt, and a pair of jeans were picked up as he stuffed his bag with textbooks, wrinkled essays, and worn notebooks. With a quick glance at the clock once more, he cursed beneath his breath as he saw it was fifteen minutes pass eight. He quickly grabbed the rest of his things and tossed his gymnastic grips into the back pockets.

“I’m up already!” He called out calmly as he left his bedroom, passing by the twins who were each holding a bucket of ice water. They groaned in frustration. He shot them a look, briefly wondering what would've happen if he didn't get up in time. With a disgruntled shrug, Theo shut the bathroom door.

After one quick shower later, Theo entered the kitchen; his hair was too messy to be dealt with so it was left alone. The shower made him considerably better at a long night of perspiration and... well... blood. The kitchen was nearly empty except for the disgruntled sister at the table. Both of his parents were already out at work while the twins still had time before their afternoon class. The counters looked empty as well but, luckily, some coffee remained in the pot as plates of sandwiches were placed next to it.

“Good, you’re here. It’s about time,” his sister huffed, standing from her seat and grabbing the back of his shirt just as he was in reach of the sandwiches.

“Wait!" Theo held up his hands in defense. He glanced at the food forlornly. "The plate--”

“Eat when we get there!” A cup of coffee and a sandwich were shoved into his hands. Before Theo could so much as utter a word, he grabbed the entire plate of sandwiches and was already dragged out the door.

Bang.

An eye cracked open at hearing the sound in his head. He didn't jump. He didn't move from the position he had fallen asleep in. He had gotten used to the dreams. This had to be the third time this week. It was still only Monday. He had a long road ahead of him if this was how the week was deciding to go. It never got any easier to watch those scenes unfold. The blood that soaked the young woman...the gun held in the boy's hand...the deafening bang that resounded in his head...

The older man groaned as he felt the throb in his head, being brought back to reality. He reached out blindly, his palm finding the cold wood of the coffee table. His fingers found glass bottles, the slight movement being enough to roll them off the small table. He winced as one shattered upon the wooden floorboards. He'd have to clean that up before he cut himself. God damn it...

Shaking his head slightly, he reached over a bit further, finally finding what he sought. Bringing the small cell phone in front of him, he clicked on the power button, wincing once more as the screen brightened up the room. The throb seemed to worsen in the presence of this blinding light. Adjusting to the brightness, though, he read out the time. 8:03am. Oh, for Christ's sake. The dreams couldn't even wait until 10!? Another groan escaped him as he lowered his phone to the cushions of the couch he currently laid against, passed out from last night's escapades. Well, if you could call drinking the night away an escapade, anyway.

The one visible blue eyes shifted as he tried to make out what was on the floor before he moved to get up. Smiling a bit in appreciation at what he found, he reached down to grab a still half full bottle. Opening the cap quickly, he raised it to his lips, letting some of the harsh liquor rush down his throat, the warmth of the whiskey being enough to chase away the cold of his apartment.

Satisfied that he could move without cutting himself on broken glass, he lowered his foot off the couch, rolling slightly to pull himself off. He came out on his knees in front of the couch, still cradling the bottle in one hand with his phone in the other. Rising to his feet, though, he took a look around the room, reaching down to slip the phone into his right jean pocket, yawning lightly. He really would rather be back in bed...but he figured the sooner he was up, he could start pissing away the day once more. It was the only thing he could really look forward to.

His steps took him towards the kitchen, grabbing one of the white tshirts that was thrown haphazardly across the back of a chair. He placed the bottle of whiskey on the counter before pulling it on quickly and walking fully into the kitchen, his foot kicking away yet another empty bottle. He really should get around to cleaning this place up. Instead of bothering, though, he simply opened the fridge. His choices for breakfast were...dismal at best. Rum, beer, and more whiskey...well, at least he had bread. It was something. It would help if he had something to actually go with it, though.

Reaching inside, he took out a slice of bread, taking a bite of it as he shut the door behind it. He devoured the rather measly meal quickly, grabbing his bottle of whiskey once more for another swig. He didn't bother with socks as he found his sneakers, the right sneaker across the room from the left one. If only he could remember how he managed to take off his shoes so far apart from each other...

Once the ratty black sneakers were on, Lloyd made his way to the door, opening it as he finished the last of his whiskey and tossed the empty bottle back onto the couch he had awoken from. With the slight buzz back, he felt his headache lessening, though his mood wasn't any brighter. That dream had annoyed him and it was gonna take more than half a bottle of whiskey to forget that again. A light sight escaped his lips as his hand reached up the scratch the scraggly brown beard that adorned his face, not even bothering with shaving at this point. His feet started to move without really thinking of a destination, only pausing long enough to shut the door. He didn't lock it, though. Why bother? What were they gonna steal? His whiskey?

Well, on second thought, maybe he should have locked up. He was already too far gone, though, descending the steps of his apartment complex to start out for the day. Though, his goal was only going to be the same as any other day. He'd make his way to the bar until they kicked him out...in which case, he'd go to find another bar or possibly just some place to snack between drinks.

He'd figure it out when he got there. He just had to make his way out there first.

It didn't take him long to reach the bar, the bartender looking up in a bored manner as he heard the door open. It wasn't a surprise. Who else would come to this bar at 8am but this guy? Though he had never really been a stranger for the two years the man had worked there, he had become particularly frequent with the place as of late. The reason was lost on him, but hey. If he wanted to piss away his money with cheep booze, who was he to stop him? "The usual, Lloyd?"

"Mm..." the man offered as his own sign of consent, finding a bar stool at the end to sit on. The bartender rolled his eyes at the attitude of his customer. He's probably still drunk from the previous night. Regardless, the bartender set off to grab one of the beers Lloyd particularly enjoyed ordering. As the day went on, he would get into more liquor, but, for the time being, he would settle for a few morning beers.

The sound of the alarm clock jarred her awake, tearing her free from the dream she had been having. What a strange dream. It felt so real. She could have sworn she was in some other place as well. Never before had a dream seemed so lucid. It wasn't foggy like dreams she had before, and the events weren't escaping her despite her attempts to grasp at the details. Her hand finally pressed the snooze button in her attempts to quell the loud noises and rest for just a little bit longer.

Emlyn's body felt like it was dripping with perspiration, and prickled from the cold feeling of the fan blowing over her all at the same time. Her heart pounded against her rib cage. She really felt like she could use a shower. She could still feel the blood on her body, warm and sticky. It felt so real even though it had been like an out of body experience. The body of the dead girl didn't look like her though. The girl who had died was much younger with different facial features. A rounder face with a pug nose. Why did she think that girl was her? The smell of blood seemed to fill her nostrils still. It made her feel sick. Emlyn had never been able to stomach the sight or smell of blood, and feeling it made her feel queasy and lightheaded as well. She needed a shower.

Her inability to fall asleep caused her to move to a sitting position ,and she felt something leap up onto the queen sized bed. The ebony great dane sprawled across her lap and she let out an exasperated sigh. “The alarm is not your cue to join me.” Rather than deal with fighting the mutt, she reached for the journal next to the alarm clock and jotted down everything she could remember from her dream. It still seemed peculiar to her that she could recall it with such clarity.

“Crow,” she spoke with a lilt to her voice. The dog raised his head and regarded her with a curious look. “Want to go outside?” She queried. The dog needed no further motive to crawl off her and dart out of the door to her bedroom. Emlyn made her way out of her bed, dropping the journal into her bag on her way. After she had made her way down the hallway, she entered the area where her kitchen and living room were separated by the counter of her kitchen. The tiled floor of the kitchen and carpeted floor of the living room also helped differentiate between the two places.

Crow pranced around impatiently in front of the door to the backyard as she cut through the living room to the kitchen, and slid the panel from the dog door out. The great dane pushed his way through the flap before she was able to remove it completely.

Emlyn didn't linger in the kitchen for long. She made her way into the bathroom to continue with her morning ritual. She typically showered after work because her job caused her to get dirty, but she had enough time for a quick one. She hastily brushed her hair and teeth. On a typical morning, she brushed her teeth after she ate. However, she was in more of a hurry after deciding to shower. The coffee maker was turned on while she took the time to spread some cream cheese onto a bagel, wrapping it in a paper towel and retrieving her cup of coffee. She slid the panel back into place on the dog door and called for Crow to follow her into the garage, opening the passenger door of the faded blue pick up truck. The dog eagerly made his way into the seat and she moved in front of the vehicle to seat herself at the wheel, tossing her bag and tool belt into the back seat.

~*~*~*~*~

Russel parked his vehicle in front of the cafe. His transportation of choice was a red sports car. As if the Jaguar didn't draw attention to itself already, the color made it stand out even more. Then again, Rush had always enjoyed drawing unnecessary amounts of attention to himself. At a mere twenty two years of age, he frequently gave the impression that he came from a family with money where everything was handed to him and those he interacted with were quick to predict that he didn't have to work for a thing.

The way he was dressed served less as a status symbol than his car. Instead of a tailored suit, he adorned a simple pair of jeans with a white t-shirt and a leather jacket. His hair made his skin look near alabaster, but he had never tanned well. Raven hued hair was slicked back. He had often been told he looked like a greaser from some movie, The Outsiders if he remembered correctly. He had read the novel once, but he had never seen the film. Despite his choices in wardrobe, he had a boyish face with viridian pools and a mouth that was prone to incessant grinning and smirking. Probably not a face inclined for games such as Poker, or so he had been told.

He breached six feet by a mere two inches. Average height, he assumed. His build was anything short of intimidating. Thin limbed and wiry, he was left with little musculature to utilize to his advantage in the event of a fight.

He entered the establishment, and seated himself at the counter. He checked his phone briefly and made his order when one of the employees greeted him. He spoke with an accent that was distinctly European, Welsh to be precise. A younger girl approached him, setting an apple steamer before him. It was hot drink not unlike apple cider, but with caramel stirred into it and topped with a generous amount of whipped cream.

“The danish is on it's way,” she informed him.

Rush figured the girl was either a drop out, or fresh out of high school. She looked younger. She didn't manage to hold his interest for long because he began looking around the cafe as though he were expecting someone to arrive at any moment.

~*~*~*~*~

Juliana seated herself on a bench in front of the high school, taking her time with entering the building. It was supposed to be her first day. Most of the students ignored her. They probably thought she was in a different grade or something. It was probably impossible to remember every face. She preferred that. Her sepia hair was cropped short into a chin length bob and side swept bangs that were clipped out of the way by a barrette that had a cerulean bow attached to the clip. She adorned a simple ivory dress shirt under a cardigan that matched the accessory in her hair. Cerulean dress pants were paired with white heels and a crossbody drew color from her shoes and shirt. The purse was slung across her shoulder. The blue tones in her clothing drew attention to the azure spheres set in a khaki pigmented visage.

A fuschia backpack rested beside her on the bench, disrupting the color scheme. It would be shoved in a locker momentarily though.

Juliana rose to stand. The heels boosted her height by two inches, causing her to reach about five and a half feet. Her shoes clicked against the tiled floors when she stepped into the building and she placed her the backpack into her locker before heading to the office.

The secretary glanced up towards her when she opened the door. An older woman, probably about mid thirties. She had sorrel hair pinned into a bun at the top of her head. Juliana couldn't tell how long it was. Black rimmed, oval shaped glasses were perched on a long, thin nose. The woman's features were thin and gaunt with a ruddy complexion. A simple skirt suit and black pumps were adorned.

“Can I help you?” The older woman queried, although her tone conveyed that she didn't really want to assist a student at all.

“I transferred to this school recently,” Juliana spoke. Her words were pronounced in a way that suggested English was not her primary language.

The secretary rose to her feet. She was perhaps three inches taller, but her heels were an inch shorter than Juliana's.

“Do you have your schedule?” The secretary spoke. She sounded impatient. Maybe it was just her natural way of speaking, or maybe she just didn't like interacting with students much. Although her words made the younger girl curious about what the secretary was doing working at a school if that was the case.

“I have it, but there's no room number,” Juliana replied.

“Follow me,” the secretary commanded as she guided the new student down the hallway to her first classroom. She opened the door, “Your new student.” She walked away quickly, leaving the girl behind to enter the classroom by herself.

She glanced over the students. She was probably supposed to give a brief introduction, she supposed.

“My name is Juliana, I'm from Brazil.” Short and simple. “I'll find my own seat if you don't mind,” she informed the teacher, taking an empty seat towards the back of the classroom.

The bell chimed once more, signalling a new customer, as a man entered the diner, black sunglasses framing his face and hiding his eyes. His form was covered in a black suit, dressed as finely as he could despite the heat of the day. In his right hand, a matching black briefcase was held tightly, a small slip of paper taking up his left hand as he gazed down at it. What could be seen, though, showed tanned skin from much time spent out in the sun.

A young woman came up to him, a drawl to her voice. She clearly didn't like being at the diner. Given the wages, the man couldn't blame her. “Hello, sir. Is it just you today?” she asked politely, reaching for a menu.

The man shook his head, a small smile appearing on his face. “I'm meeting someone,” he responded in a light hearted voice. Despite the seriousness of his dress, he seemed like he couldn't have been older than his early twenties. Walking past her, he made his way to a table where a lone boy sat.

Seeing his target, he placed down the slip of paper on the table, revealing it to the boy. It was a picture of the young boy in question. “You must be Gilbert Solberg,” he stated, no question in his voice. “My name is Enrique. I had need to speak to you if I could have but a moment of your time.”

~ ~ ~

A sigh escaped the lips of the young blond as he leaned against the hood of the black sedan, staring up at the apartments he had been instructed to. In his hand, a picture was held, studying the girl in the photo.

Teres Wratherton. It had been annoying to search the girl out, but orders were orders. He was sure this would be less eventful than his second stop.

He ran a hand through his sandy blond hair, grown out to his shoulders. Dark shades obscured his emerald green eyes, but it did wonders for framing him in an ominous light, pale against the black suit he was instructed to wear. It was such an annoying process. Why couldn't the boss have gotten someone else to do this? Well, whatever. At least she wasn't hard on the eyes. That was...something, he supposed. Not enough to appreciate this damn job, but something.

Slipping the photo into his breast pocket, he crossed his arms, staring up towards the room number that he had been told she remained at. With any luck, this wouldn't take too much convincing and he could be on his way.

"You're in luck," Gil says to the man with his practiced smile. He holds his glass by the top, the palm of his head covering the opening. Though it is only water and ice, he twirls it about slowly in his hand, and seems to regard the result with a passive interest. "Time is something I have in abundance. The lack of scarcity means I won't even charge you for the product." He places the glass back down on the table, and finally takes a look at the man he's speaking to.

"Enrique. Only one name? You used two names when addressing me. You keep your eyes behind a pair of shades. Of course your business suit tells me so much more than your eyes ever could. You'd rather sweat in the summer heat than shed your attire for something more appropriate to the weather. You live in a world where casual appearances like mine aren't allowed. You have something for me, a message most likely, and it's a message that can go to no one else.

"I am intrigued," he flashes his teeth for merely a moment as a true smile slips out. They're normal pearly whites, well maintained, yet on his face they look almost like tombstones. "Tell me your message, Enrique."

It took her relatively little time for her to change, her jeans and hoody traded out for a black pencil skirt and white fitted blouse with a fitted blazer. She also traded her scruffy pair of converse for an elegant pair of pointed nude high heels and grabbed a pair of Wayfairer sunglasses. She had also quickly tied her hair back applied a little more make-up, all combining together to change her appearance dramatically into that of a much more respectable looking business woman or perhaps a secretary of some kind – she grabbed a small black handbag to finish the look and quickly crammed a few belongings into it. More importantly she didn’t look like anyone who would be involved with drugs, or at least not on a street level. As she moved quickly towards the door of her apartment she checked her phone and saw that she still had twelve minutes to get down to the street and then make her way the short distance to where Knight’s guy would hopefully be waiting. ‘Should just be about enough time’ she thought to herself as she exited into the dingy corridor and locked the door behind her.

She passed the lift, a clearly aged out of order sign hanging where it had been for the last four months and the pungent smell of weed hanging in the air. The smell was coming from the only other apartment in the corridor, she knew the tenants were a pair of hippie types that grew constantly and relied on her silence regarding the smell in the corridor. She never minded anyway and it made sense to have to have some weed fiends who were in her ‘debt’ so to speak. Descending the stairs as quickly as she could in the heels she continued to check her phone and keep an eye on the time out of habit more than anything else. Finally reaching the ground floor she sighed and made for the large reinforced glass doorway, rummaging into her bag quickly she pulled out a packet of cigarettes and slipped one into her mouth as she exited into the cool and somewhat refreshing air.

She took little notice of her surroundings as she began to walk swiftly towards her destination, she casually lit her cigarette before glancing once more at her phone, she was set to be perfectly on time for a change.

Clarinet could drive. It was something she did. But her car remained in it's location under the car park. Car keys in hand, she wondered down the sidewalk, trying to keep her eye on a bird. The bird was large, she could see that much. She guessed the wingspan to be somewhere between one and twenty feet. Twenty seemed quite high to her, and one seemed rather low, but she supposed it could not hurt to assume a wide variety of options. If she had to confirm a definite size, she'd probably say about five feet and four inches. But that was how tall she was, so maybe she was bias to that size.

What was odd about the bird, was the wings. It looked, to her, like every other feather had been plucked from the tip. Now, she was quite certain this could not be true, but it still had her curious. It had caught her eye, soaring across the street just as she locked her door. Forgetting that she had intended to take her car, she'd followed it, wondering what it could be. It occurred to her, walked directly into a red car parked outside the cafe, that she was lucky the bird had been going in the same direction as she. She debated, momentarily, if she should go into the cafe, or if she should chase the bird some more. The bird answered that question for her. It landed beside the street, picking at the remains of some poor animal that would never find out why the chicken crossed the road.

"A turkey vulture? I've been chasing a stupid turkey vulture? Ugh." Disgusted with herself, Clarinet shook her head and stepped around the car. She took a moment or two to admire the vehicle that had been introduced, painfully, to her left hip, then entered the store. She pulled out her phone and, as she stood in line, she checked the menu online.

"Miss? What can I get you?" the girl at the counter drew her attention.

Net looked up and smiled. "Hello! Good morning. How are you?" She asked brightly. "I'll have a chocolate latte with two pumps of caramel, please." She requested brightly. "Oh! And something to eat. Surprise me." She requested, starting to giggle. "Thanks!" She reached into her purse and pulled out a ten and a five. Setting them on the counter, she smiled. "You guys work too hard. Keep the change."

With that, she stepped out of line and looked around, searching for a place to sit.

The high school was in peace ever since the bell has rung. However, a black, slightly banged-up car sudden appeared from the street corner, breaking the relative silence with a screeching halt in front of the school’s front yard. The door opened and Theo stepped out of the car, not a wrinkle out of place on his outfit, and seemingly calm despite the neck-breaking speed of the vehicle was going at. He lightly scrunched his nose as the smell of burning rubber soon assaulted his nostrils.

“Crap, what time is it?” He quickly checked his cell phone. With one glance at the empty entrance of the school, he grabbed his bag and ran toward the school’s front doors.

“Hey! Remember you got practice today!” His sister’s voice shouted from behind.

“Okay!” Theo called back, glancing over his shoulders in time to see his sister slamming the car door shut. Within a matter of moments, the car took off and speed into the distance, leaving behind brake marks on asphalt.

He stepped into the building and wandered into the deserted halls. Only the sound of his footsteps echoed through the hallways until he reached his destination. He carefully opened the door. Inside was a typical classroom setting complete with desks, the students, and the teacher himself.

“Mr. Cyrus, you’re late. That’s a first,” the teacher stated, glancing away from the board as soon as he heard the door opened. “Do you have an excuse note?”

Theo shook his head.

“Then take a seat. I’ll be marking you down as tardy. Don’t do that again.”

As the teacher went back to the board and resumed talking, Theo scanned the classroom. Barely any seats remain except those in the very back. Usually he would sit somewhere in the middle section, but all the desks there were full.

With a soft sigh, he started toward the back, taking the nearest empty seat he could get. As he dropped his bag and took a seat, his eyes suddenly caught sight of something new. Or, well, someone.

There was a new student in class, one he never seen here or in school. It was a girl, possibly around his age give or take. Her outfit was filled with tasteful shades of blue. The color schemes were what really drew his attention since gray sweatpants and t-shirts combo was a good enough standard around here. There wasn’t much else he could say about her without making assumptions.

Okay, new student. Nothing else is new.

Theo gave a small nod of acknowledgement and took out his notebook. Flipping through the pages until he came upon an empty page, he readied his pen as he listened to the teacher’s drawls.

Rush glanced towards the shop window impatiently. He was too preoccupied that he wasn't observant enough to notice the employee trying to capture his attention. The girl walked straight into his vehicle. He prepared to stand up and exit the cafe, but it seemed the door was her destination.

"... Sir?" The employee asked uncertainly.

His head pivoted towards her. "Right. Sorry." He quickly apologized and deposited a bill into the tip jar before taking his danish. He stood around absently, watching the new entrant surreptitously. When she moved to find a seat, he stepped in front of her to intercept the girl.

"You could have scratched my car. Don't you think you should have left a note or..." Rush started out with the momentum to appear furious, but it went downhill after that. He had struggled to keep his face straight, but one side of his mouth began tugging upwards while the other tried to remain flat and serious. His mouth quirked into a grin and he began laughing hysterically.

"Sorry, sorry." Rush repeated the word before extending his invitation. "Sit with me?"

~*~*~*~*~

Juliana began glancing around the classroom, observing her classmates one by one. It was a while before the voice of the teacher disrupted her from the notebook she was scribbling in. Another classmate entered. She watched him make his way to one of the seats near her.

Her pen continued to scribe as the teacher lectured, and she carefully ripped a paper out of her notebook, slowly enough to not alert everyone in the classroom. She placed it beside her notebook and her wrist kept moving between her class notes and the new sheet of paper while jotting something down.

When she had finished, she cautiously folded the loose paper. The perforation had been torn with great care prior to doing so. Julianna waited for the teacher to turn his back to the students to write on the board. She used the opportunity to slide the paper onto his desk. She rolled the perforation into a tiny ball while she waited for his response.

My name is Julianna.
Show me around after this?

Enrique offered a small frown. “Very...perceptive of you,” he commented just before his smile returned. “It's less a message and more a challenge.” The man reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a manila folder, a few papers neatly organized within. “It is true that you frequent the casinos, correct? It has come to our attention that you seem to like that sort of thing. We run a game of...higher stakes. My boss has sent me to fetch you as you are of interest to him. He would like the opportunity to explain the game and see if you might be interested.” His free hand reached into the folder, procuring a piece of paper and placing it down in front of him. It was a report on the boy, showing when he visited casinos and how much was spent or gained at each. “You seem to have a penchant for betting big. We appreciate that kind of confidence and thought it worth it to extend an invitation to you."

~ ~ ~

As he noticed the woman exiting her apartment, he straightened a bit, but frowned in response. Was that actually her? He had to do a double take to ensure that he had the right woman, pulling the photo out once more. Shaking his head, he let out a sigh.

Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask, he supposed.

As she hit the sidewalk, the man took a step forward, blocking her path forward. “Excuse me...Miss...Teres Wratherton?” he asked hesitantly before plastering on an all too fake smile. “My name is Nico. Nico Regale. May I have a moment of your time?” He sounded polite enough, though he was just hoping this would go over smoothly. He didn't need trouble on his first mission for the boss. That just wouldn't do. He needed things to go smoothly.

Net blinked at this random guy. She wasn't quite sure why he was laughing at her, but if this was a pickup line, it wasn't working very well. She didn't think you were suppose to get girls to agree to go out with you by confusing them too much to say no. She blinked at him, listening as his angry tone turned to one of amusement. Sit with him? After he'd laughed at her? "Um...yeah, sure. I'll sit with you." No, wait. Wait. Apparently it was working. Why hadn't she said no?

Net followed the young man over to his table, trying to process what had just happened. "Uh, thanks for asking me to sit, I guess. The tables are kinda full." She admitted as she glanced around the little shop. "So, my name's Clarinet. Like the woodwind, yes. No, I don't blow." She added with a sigh. She'd learned to add that qualifier around guys. She brushed a bit of hair behind her ear, curious about her new table partner. He looked young, and his car spoke of wealth. But he ether wasn't from around here, or he hadn't attended high school with her. Most of the rich kids went to her high school. Unless they'd been private schooled. Judging by his dress, however, she assumed he had gone through public. Private school kids only wore designer brand t-shirts, and his was an obvious knock off. Not to mention the 'trying too hard' leather jacket. Seriously, who wore those any more?

"I didn't scratch your car!" Net shot upright in her chair, indignant by the accusation she'd only just registered. "I checked it before I came inside. It's got some niiiice curves. Curves I didn't scratch." She added quickly. "And yes, if I had, I would have left a note. Jerk."

"Plus casinos like their whales," Gil laughs lightly, looking down at the list. It was... almost terrifyingly accurate. They even knew about the dirtier business, all the way back to the beginning. "You been setting this up for a while? Some of this goes back years. Hmmm... this is quite a decision," he puts up a facade of worry, but it mostly fails and just comes off as terribly sarcastic. His heart isn't in this one. He takes out a deck of cards, and begins to shuffle. "I do like games though... maybe I'll play one right now." He flips over the top card.

It's the Ace of Diamonds.

This is why you never let your opponent shuffle the cards.

"Looks like I'm going then. Come on, take me to our mysterious employer."

As Teres continued to stare down at her phone her path was suddenly blocked by a man wearing a black suit and dark glasses, she almost kept walking and crashed into him but managed to stop just in time. She stared at him like a deer caught in a truck’s headlights as he spoke.

“Excuse me...Miss...Teres Wratherton?”

He quickly smiled at her, a smile that she was all too familiar with. Regaining her composure as he introduced himself she threw on the semblance of a preoccupied business woman in a rush, after all it was half true.

Her mind raced with thoughts. Who was this guy? How had he even found her? And more importantly what the hell did he want from her.

“I… er..” she blurted before checking the time once more. Her ‘perfectly on time’ was starting to slip away, she had places to be and this stranger was putting her way more on edge than she had expected to be this early in the morning. She considered telling him to go shove it, but if he’d tracked her down once then he could probably do it again. Taking off her sunglasses she looked him down once, making sure to show a sceptical expression as she did so, a glint of interest also showing through.

“You a cop?” she asked in earnest, though he seemed a little young and a little… attractive to be a cop, she wanted all the cards on the table before they talked about anything.

Once he had answered she rolled her eyes and briefly bit her lip before saying “If you can walk and talk then sure you can have a moment of my time, Nico Regale.”

With that she set off once more towards her destination, he would have about five minutes at the most before she would need to ditch him. Whoever was waiting for her would be extremely unhappy if she arrived with some suit in tow – no matter how adorable he looked, and that would make Knight very unhappy, which could end up being extremely detrimental to her health.

In all honesty, Theo wasn’t paying much attention to the lecture. His eyes couldn’t help but stare at everything that might be of interest to him. From the bumps on the ceiling to the scrap pieces of paper littering the floors, everything else seemed so much more interesting than what’s written on the board.

As he tapped the tip of his pencil against the desk, a sound rustled from the seat next to him. It was soft sound; it was light enough not to gather much interest. In the end, his pencil stood ready in hand as the teacher erased the board of its content and began to write new information on it. However, as soon as the teacher faced away, Theo blinked as the transfer student reached to the side and slid a piece of paper slipped onto his desk.

What’s this? He raised an eyebrow, tossing a curious glance at her. The paper that was passed was neatly folded with not visible tears or holes. With great caution, he took hold of it and pulled it into his lap where the desk blocked the view from the teacher. He opened the note.

My name is Julianna.
Show me around after this?

This… was interesting. He was the last person he would suspect to be asked of a thing especially from a transfer student. Although, it wasn’t like he had much to do after class or even school for that matter. Sure, there was practice, but he got plenty of empty time before then. It would be a nice break from talking to the occasional athletes and teachers.

Shoving the notice into his desk, he flipped to an empty page. As he stared at the board, his pencil immediately went to work. Within a matter of moments, he slowly ripped the page out of his notebook and folded it up. The opportunity came when the teacher was distracted with the board, and he carefully slide the paper onto her desk.

It’s nice to meet you. I’m Theo.
Sure. Although, not much to see around here.

Rush was pleased with himself that she didn't get irritated by his joke. Although, the attempt at the joke was turned poor by his laughing – he really felt like he could have pulled it off if he maintained a serious expression. Or perhaps being serious may have had the opposite effect he desired. He was certain one of his friends would have appreciated it.

He prepared to pull one of the chairs out for her, but she had seated herself before he had a chance to provide the courtesy. He prepared to provide her with his name as he reached for the back of his own chair, poised to slide in across from her. He was momentarily startled when she reacted about the car. A delayed reaction, he noted.

The boy was quick to apologize. Maybe his joke hadn't gone over so well. He scratched at the back of his head somewhat nervously. “Sorry... That was sort of supposed to be a prank. It would be fine if you did scratch it. I could always get a new vehicle.” There was a pause as he realized he spoke casually of replacing his sports car with a different one rather than taking it into a shop to have the damage from the scratches fixed. “If you're interested, I could probably help you get into a car of your own like that one out there.”

He seated himself, finally choosing to introduce himself. “My name is Rush. Like, as in... Rush Hour?” He speculated, as though he felt the need to compare his name to something because she had. He considered her last remark, but the intended meaning seemed to be lost on him. “Do you pluck then?” He prodded and pantomimed playing something like a guitar. “Like strings,” he clarified.

~*~*~*~*~

Julianna continued to scribe into her notebook as though she were writing notes from the lecture. Her gaze drifted between the aforementioned teacher and the classmate she had passed her not to. Her hands seemed to retrieve the note, almost eagerly. Her fingers worked the folds open as quietly and inconspicuously as possible.

Her pen immediately began to scratch at the paper below his handwriting. Her letters slanted to the right, and she nearly hovered over the paper as she wrote. Unlike most of the members of the class, she leaned over her paper as she wrote, her head a scant few inches from the tip of her writing utensil. When she had finished scrawling her message, she folded along the lines that were already in the paper. Julianna's eyes flitted from the note before her and the teacher as she went about her actions.

She leaned over, scooting the piece of paper back onto Theo's desk.

If there isn't much to see then we should get out of here.
Don't you agree?

The man offered a small smile at that, holding his hand out to the side for Gil. “That's good. You have to like games to get along with our lot,” Enrique said. He let the other man rise from his seat, reaching into his pocket as he did so.

He retrieved his wallet, opening it and taking out a few bills, placing it on the table. It was far more than what Gil's bill would be, a generous sum made up of a stack of $50 bills. He smiled kindly at the waitress as she returned, looking down at the table. “Unfortunately, we're leaving a bit early, but feel free to keep the change.” Her eyes drifted to the table she had been attending, eyes widening in shock as she noticed the money he had put down. She turned her head back up to the two, but they were already leaving the diner by the time she did, exiting into the sunlight once more.

Enrique pulled out his sunglasses from his pocket, placing them on. He walked forward a few steps before stopping in front of a dark blue sedan, the car looking as impressive as the suit worn by the man. Opening the back seat door, he gestured for the Gil to enter.

Once he was seated, the stranger took his own seat in the front seat, starting the car up and beginning to pull out. “It won't be a long drive. We'll be heading to meet my employer while we wait for the other invitees to arrive,” he explained, glancing back through the rearview mirror.

~ ~ ~

Nico was quick, reaching out and grabbing her upper arm as she started to move past him. An apologetic look crossed his features briefly, but then he returned to his bored expression. “Unfortunately, I cannot. I will, however, offer to drive you as close to your destination as I can,” he replied. “You'll get there faster and, if you don't like the sound of my deal by the time we stop, you get out and leave. I believe, however, you will prefer what I have to offer you over your current...living situation.” He glanced up towards her apartment before returning his gaze to her.

“So, what do you think? Give me the chance to explain? I'm on a time limit too and you're not the only one I need to visit today.”