Finally, the sun was rising again, bringing yet another day. Yet another day that they were alive. Another day that they would need to survive. The rising on the sun was lost to those unfortunate enough to have been chased to live underground; all the light they had were from measly fires, torches and candles. There was a generator, but it was reserved for emergencies.
The smell of sewer was hard to miss, but at least it overpowered the scent of the severe lack of hygiene among most of the supers that resided in the off-sewer rooms that was generally referred to as The Headquarters.

But this day was no different than the one before it, nor the past ten years. The only thing special about it was the fact that it was exactly ten years since the walls went up and the Technopath assumed his throne as the the sole leader of the city; his reign ensured by his army of neigh indestructible metal soldiers, the Crusaders. Their footsteps still fell hard on the ground above, sometimes causing small pieces of rubble and dust to fall from the ceiling. When it got really quiet, the sounds of the dark city above them were just barely audible and one might be able to hear the occasional cry for help before the sound of shots eliminated the source.

To Jacques, with his enhanced sense of hearing, the cries for help sounded painfully close and he sometimes got the feeling that he was close enough to actually reach them in time, but he knew this was not the case. His helplessness in this whole situation; the feeling of being utterly weak and useless, usually left him in a sour mood and he was enough of an asshole not to care that he took it out on others who were in the exact same situation as he. Even his brother, the one person who actually cared enough to worry when he was in an even more sullen mood than usual, he was not above metaphorically body-slamming to the ground with words; hell, he even did it physically, sometimes.
But despite the fact that he was more or less chronically pissed off, he was one of the most contributing members of the Resistance. At least once a week, he risked his life by going to the surface to scout for other supers; usually in the shape of a rat to be as incognito as possible. How he got the shape of a rat, he was not proud of going into; it had tasted like shit and the meat was stringy as hell, but at least he did not go to bed hungry.

He was currently draped on Ruben's lap, one of his slender legs draped across his mechanical thigh, but most of his body snuggled into the crook of his right knee. Long, curved claws repeatedly kneaded the metal limb as a low purr rang from the back of his throat at the sensation of his brother's rough fingers against his scalp. He was also currently a cat.
Ruben was sketching squiggly, incomprehensible doodles into a tattered old sketchbook by the light of a candle whilst absently kneading the tips of his fingers into the top of Jacques head; it was more of a reflex than anything else. Had he been in his human form, he would have kicked him off, but he was quite adorable as a small, gray-striped cat. It was kind of funny how his low height seemed to be incorporated in his animal forms, as well. Not that Ruben was any taller, but, like with most other things, he was not quite as annoyed by it as Jacques. Usually, when Jacques got all clingy and cuddly like he was at the moment, whether in human or animal form, it meant he was planning on going to the surface later and was nervous about it.
Ruben stopped kneading the cat's head for a moment, reaching for his eraser instead. Jacques was not pleased with this and as his vocal chords were not equipped with the ability to speak when he was like this, he chose to inform his brother of his unhappiness by sinking his teeth into the young man's elbow. Ruben yelped at the pain and instantly stood, making the fluffy ball of gray fall from his lap into a graceless pile on the ground. Instantly, Jacques scrambled back on all fours, hissed at his brother and curled up on the ground instead, sulking. How Jacques managed to pout in cat form was beyond Ruben, but he did.

“If you're gonna act like a jerk, I'm gonna go talk to somebody else,” Ruben announced, raising a brow as Jacques, very forcefully, turned over onto his other side and curled up in a tight ball, letting out a growling meowing from the back of his throat. Flipping him the bird and stealing his pants from the pile of clothes that had been abandoned in favor of shifting forms, Ruben walked away. He really hoped that Jacques would choose to stay in cat form or find some other pants rather than walk around naked again. Or, well, almost naked; he had his hat and boots on last time.

A heavy metallic clang rang out through the western end of HQ. Jeff had slammed the heavy iron barricade closed after he had entered. He stood in the vacant corridor for a few minutes, unmoving, focusing on what had just happened. He could hear the screams of the bystanders, the whirring of the crusader's movements... he couldn't stop replaying it all in his mind, over and over, looking for where he went wrong.
"Darnit..." He muttered under his breath as he threw a fist into the concrete wall. He thought about the fact that the kid had run rather than come with him to safety, but immediately told himself to be grateful that the kid had not been captured. "I'll find him tomorrow. No big deal."

With that, Jeff headed into the living areas of HQ. Blood dripped perpetually off the finger tips of his right hand as he walked, the blood was running down his arm from a nasty looking gash in his shoulder. He figured he would head over to see Wendy first, since he wasn't fond of losing consciousness at the best of times. Then perhaps Katerina could tell him where to find that kid the crusaders were after.

Jeff walked through the main section where most of the supers liked to gather, offering no more than a smile and a nod to those who tried to speak to him. He was not in the mood for idle small talk. Besides, he had to deliver the food stores that he had gone to the surface for in the first place. Fortunately he could just drop it with Ruben on the way to see Wendy. He had to hurry though, the large bag on his back was starting to feel heavy, which for him was a bad sign. As Jeff pushed on towards the people he required, his body made it more and more difficult to move. "Bastard must have gotten me worse than I realized." He muttered again to no one in particular. It was a good thing he had brought his spear with him, as he was now using it to bear some of his weight with each step. Finally he stopped at Ruben's door and slammed his left fist into it before dropping the bag of supplies in the doorway. Jeff quickly moved on, he no longer felt like explaining the details; no he was getting too tired for that.

Wendy's little clinic, was not far now, and with the lightened Load, Jeff was faring much better. Clinic may be a bit of a grandiose term, but life in the sewers means adjusting your expectations. Jeff made it to the door way and leaned against the wall, before banging lightly to announce his presence. He took slow deep breaths as his mind continued to replay the incident that had just happened above ground.

Wendy was sitting in the clinic of sorts within the headquarters of the Resistance, scanning through the limited supplies that were available to her. The "clinic" was in a small store room, dimly lit by a candle sitting on a wooden shelf attached to the grimy wall. A few boxes of matches had been tossed almost haphazardly on a shelf below the candle, under a forgotten roll of bandages. There were three narrow cots pushed up against the wall, covered in thin, ragged blankets. An old beaten-up sofa had somehow made its way into the clinic, and it had been placed under the shelves that were affixed to the wall. A thin door with creaky hinges and a busted lock was next to the sofa. There was another door next to the first cot, leading to a tiny room that reminded Wendy of a closet. That was where she slept and stored her few belongings. The remainder of the space was taken up by two rickety wooden tables that looked like they would fall apart any day now, covered with a hodgepodge of medical supplies.

Wendy spent her days healing whoever needed to be healed, and she appreciated how people seemed to know what injuries were severe enough to garner her attention. It always irked her just the slightest bit when someone came to her with a single bruise or a thin, superficial cut. Although Wendy never downright rejected anyone, she could not help feeling just a tad irritated when things like that happened. She preferred to reserve her energy for people with more...well, serious injuries. Then she would be more than happy to help.

The Headquarters seemed to be waking up for another day of remaining in hiding, a few clatters and clangs permeating through the air into the clinic. Wendy, as always, had been up early. Since she rarely ventured above ground, due to the threat of the Technopath and his Crusaders coupled with her inability to defend herself with her powers, Wendy usually only had a vague idea of what time of day it was. She could gauge if it was morning, afternoon, or evening, but other than that it was all guesswork. She made sure that she got a decent amount of sleep in order to keep her energy levels fairly high so she would be able to heal people if they needed it, but Wendy was sometimes needed for late-night healing sessions which could last hours at a time. Those screwed up her sleep schedule.

Wendy got up from the stool she had been perched on and stretched, yawning. She reasoned that she should be able to get a bite to eat soon, seeing as more people were starting to move around and get ready for the coming day. No one had come in with any healing that they needed yet, so Wendy figured that now would be a good time to get some food into her system. Just as her mind formulated the thought, someone knocked lightly on the door. Wendy walked over quickly and twisted the door knob, yanking the door open with more force than necessary because it sometimes got stuck against the door frame. The hinges squealed in protest, and Wendy looked up to find Jeff with a large cut on his shoulder, blood streaming from the wound and dripping onto the floor. Wendy smiled warmly at him in greeting-Jeff was one of the supers who consistently required her help.

"What did you get yourself into this time?" Wendy asked idly, her voice slightly accented despite the fact she had left China over ten years ago. Turning around, Wendy's eyes flitted through the room before they landed on a metal canister the size of a bucket that one would use to build a sand castle with at the beach. She beckoned for Jeff to come inside and sit down before unscrewing the cap on the canister to reveal some clean water, at least as clean as it could get down in the sewers. She dipped a small hand towel into the water, preparing to mop up some of the blood running from Jeff's wound before healing it.

Phoebe's eyes blinked open, and instantly a small shot of panic coursed through her. She couldn't see anything. It was dark.

Of course it was dark. It was always dark in this new home of hers. It had been dark since the walls came up. As her heart picked up speed, she reached quickly next to the thin, tattered mattress she had been sleeping on, feeling around for her lighter and candle. Swallowing hard and fumbling a little, she managed to ignite the candle.

Resting on her side, she stared into the flame, doing her best to control her breathing and calm herself down. Starting the day with an attack would be a great way to ruin it. The daily morning struggle; it was unpleasant, but she was getting used to it. At least, as much as she could.

Feeling better, she sat up, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Falling asleep was also a struggle. She'd blow out her candle, and just squeeze her eyes shut, convincing herself it wasn't actually pitch black. It sort of worked, as long as she kept her eyes closed. And eventually, she would fall asleep. She was a heavy sleeper, so once she managed that, she'd stay sleeping without trouble. Thank God for that. Having to deal with the dark multiple times a night would drive her mad.

Now, to get ready for the day. Phoebe awkwardly slipped on her bike shorts, not having much room to maneuver, and picked up her candle carefully, crawling out of her cramped tent with a small yawn. She looked around the room briefly, noting with a nervous frown that there was no one else up and about. Her roommates -- of sorts -- were all either still asleep or off somewhere else. It was quiet, and it made her feel alone.

Being alone made her anxious and uneasy. Just like her fear of the dark, it seemed so dumb and irrational, but she couldn't help how she felt. It made her wonder if there was something wrong with her.

Doing her best to push aside those thoughts, Phoebe kneeled in front of the dirty little mirror that was simply resting against the cold wall next to her tent. Pulling the bucket of reasonably clean water next to it closer to her, she looked to the piece of cardboard on the floor that held her few hygienic items: a hairbrush, a toothbrush, and a twisted up tube of toothpaste. All three nicked from the same abandoned house (and of course, the toothbrush was in its packaging when she'd taken it).

Full-body washes were few and far between, so Phoebe did her best to at least keep her hair in... well, 'acceptable' condition. She was sort of proud of it, as it reminded her of both her parents -- it had the vivid colour of her mother's hair, and the thickness of her father's. Dipping the bristles of the brush in the water, she worked at her hair, wetting it down and getting rid of knots. After several minutes, she was satisfied and sufficiently agitated by the fact that she was still alone. Hurriedly, she pulled any lost hair off the brush, tossing the small clump into a second bucket -- this one given the job of being a trashcan -- and brushed her teeth, using just a dot of toothpaste.

Hopping to her feet, Phoebe exited the room, still running her fingers through and playing with her damp hair. She was antsy today, and not just because she was alone. She hadn't been to the surface in a while, hadn't seen the sun or breathed in air that didn't smell of waste. Jacques must have been about ready to go out again, too. Maybe she could find him and ask him to go together again. While he was a little scary, Phoebe had found that he wasn't that bad. Once you learned to not take the things he said too seriously, at least. Also, going in a pair was safer. And she wouldn't be alone. Funny how perfectly that worked out for her.

On her way to the lounge, she spotted Ruben, and a bright smile spread across her face.

"Good morning, Ruben!" she greeted cheerfully, pushing her hair behind her left ear and taking something of hop towards him. "How's it going?" She paused when she spotted the pants in his hands, a bit of worry creeping into her happy face. "I, um... am I going to be seeing Jacques naked again?" She pronounced the man's name a little funny, unable to say it in the same way Ruben did. While most called him 'Jack,' she didn't, for no reason in particular -- she just found 'Jacques' nicer.

Piper sang. Not that she did it well. Her brother Sam, had once told her that she couldn't hold a tune in a bucket. Still, it made her, and the others she lived near, happy. Currently she was singing some aria from an opera. She had practiced when she had nothing else to do. The old turn table was a crank style, scavenged from a dead woman's house. There had only been opera records. Piper knew them all by heart and could sing them all too.

Piper's heels clicked down the road. The sidewalk was taken up by stalls. She waved at the vendors and continued on her way. Two children dashed into her path, grabbing her legs.

"Pipes! Pipes!" They cried.

Piper laughed and pulled them off. "Hey you little devils." Her tone was light. "You listening to your mom?"

The duo nodded their head emphatically. Piper babysat during the day whenever their mother was indisposed. Carly was a hard working woman and a nice one. They lived in the next building over. Will, Carly's husband, had been killed by Crusaders. The sad thing was, she was the lucky one. Most people talked of their entire family being wiped out. Everyone had lost someone.

Once Piper disentangled herself enough to escape, she left with promises of a visit soon. The worn messenger bag over her shoulder was full and she had things to do. Her keen black eyes watched the wall graffiti. Nothing had changed since yesterday. The Fixers used graffiti to pass on messages. One of the original founders had known a homeless man who had taught them what he called Hobo Code. It was used by homeless transients who used the rail system to move from city to city. They could read the code to find safe places, or places to avoid. Where to go for food, etc.

The Fixers had learned the code, then changed it. The Technopath wasn't something they took lightly. If only they knew the code, then he could not. It provided a measure of safety. Most of the signs they used were permanent, carved into buildings. When they first started they had used chalk, but that ran out years ago.

Piper watched the codes for signs of gang activities. So far no new movement. Piper continued into the next street and paused to pass some food off to the man they called Hansel. The man was homeless, but he was a valuable ally. In exchange for food he gave her a few new houses that had "opened up" during the night. Which meant their occupants had died, but no one knew yet. Piper thanked him and continued down the road.

Two streets over Piper reached her second destination.

"Maggs." Piper proclaimed. "You've outdone yourself again." She ran a hand over a vintage 60's dress. She never asked how Maggs got her wares, and Maggs was kind enough to return the favor.

"Of course." Maggs said smugly. The old woman sat in an old chair. Her granddaughter hovered nearby.

"The usual price?" Piper asked, even though she knew the answer.

"Of course." Maggs agreed, eyes sparkling.

Piper reached into her bag and pulled out a small bottle. Medicine had run out years ago. But humans were cunning and smart. One of Piper's clients grew medicinal herbs in exchange for odd jobs, usually fixing the drainage system or the pumps. Magg's granddaughter grabbed the bottle and ran off with it. When Piper went home after her errands she'd find the dress waiting for her.

Piper bent down and kissed Maggs. "Call me if you find anything new." The old woman didn't need the reminder. But the choreographed dance was an anchor for her. Neither of them ever deviated from the routine.

And so Piper was on her way, singing her song that she didn't know the meaning of. Her last destination was further away. It was in one of the bad part of the area. Buildings lay half demolished and even now, if one looked close enough they could see bones of unfortunate victims. The only people who lived here were either desperate or insane. Mama was the latter.

"Mama?" Piper asked opening a door on the third floor. It was dark and something rustled. Piper pulled her bag closer as she slipped into Mama's room.

"Mama?" Piper pulled the door closed. "You in Mama?" Piper knew Mama never left. The old woman was too frail to move. Had she died? Or had someone taken her life? That would be the only reason Mama would never answer her.

Piper pulled out a candle and lit it. The room was clogged with old stuff. Mama had been a hoarder before the technopath and she remained a hoarder after him too. Piper swept the room, her free hand pulling out her knife.

"Mama?" She tired again as she moved into the bedroom.

"Oh Mama." Piper put the candle on something she hoped wouldn't burn. The light was barely enough to see Mama's body by. The old black woman was still fat, even with food so scarce. And it was obvious she had passed. Piper worked her way to the bed and pressed her finger's to the woman's throat confirming what her eyes had told her.

"Hey Mama, you're free." Piper whispered to the dead woman. "Tell Sam "Hi" for me, okay?"

Piper pressed a quick kiss to the woman's cold forehead before going back to the candle. She paused to wipe her eyes. Then she emptied out her delivery. It was an old book. She dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. She scanned the flat with an experienced eye and picked up whatever she could fit into her bag. When that filled she used one of Mama's. Soon other scavengers would be here and they'd not leave anything behind. Whatever she wanted she had to take now. It might seem cold to take from a dead woman, but there was no room for old traditions. Just like someone would take Mama's body for burning. Or she's be left in an empty room to rot. There was no burials anymore.

Outside Mama's home she pulled out her knife again and gouged an X over the symbol that marked this place safe for Fixers. She did the same to the symbol on the outside of the building. With a heavy heart for Mama she retraced her steps back home. With any luck someone had something for her to fix. Then she'd be able to barter for food. If not, when she went out tonight she'd have to steal some.

As soon as he had left his brother to stew in his loneliness, Ruben regretted doing so. He regretted stealing his pants even more, but that was for another reason. Leaving Jacques while he was in his cuddly moods felt like leaving a crying baby. He was not as obvious with his insecurities as some were, but he was just as terrified as everyone else of going to the surface, even if he was also confident that he would survive it. Everyone saw that Jacques was chronically pissed off, you'd have to be blind and deaf or exceptionally stupid not to, but they did not know that it was just the way he handled any emotion, whether it was worry, fear, sadness or actually anger, he defaulted straight to getting pissed and lashing out at others. At least it was better that it was Ruben than someone else who did not know how to deal with him or could defend themselves if he got physical.

“Good morning, Ruben!” came the cheery voice that Ruben had learned was that of his brother's little partner in crime for his surface trips and he turned to smile warmly at her in greeting; a smile which only widened when he saw how bright the smile that lit up her face was, “How's it going?”

“Morning to you, too, Pheebs,” he said softly, choosing a shorter version of her name that he could at least somewhat pronounce without completely butchering it. His thoughts of Jacques were momentarily pushed from his mind.

Before he could answer her question, though, the young redhead spotted the pants that Ruben had balled up in his hands and since this was not the first time he had been so short-sighed as to forget Jacques' complete lack of tact and modesty, she immediately knew that they belonged to the wilder brother, "I, um... am I going to be seeing Jacques naked again?" she questioned warily. Ruben tried not to notice how she could not quite roll the first syllable of Jacques name corerctly; it was a commom thing for english speakers, but at least she tried.

He laughed softly, holding out the pants in front of him as if to study them, "I was just considering giving zem back to 'im," he informed her with a hint of humor to his soft tone and not bothering to supress his accent like he usually did; she never seemed to mind it, anyways, "but I am sort of afraid to. Last time 'e bit my shoulder. I still 'ave ze marks," he halfway explained, halfway joked. He decided not to mention that not only had Jacques been waiting in ambush for him to return the pants, but he had also not been in his human shape when he sunk his teeth into his shoulder, but rather in the shape of a pitbull. It was always a sore subject for other people when Jacques acted more animal than human. It was the same with his scars; people knew he had them, but they had no idea that Jacques was responsible for far more than half of them. He also decided not to mention that he saw the man naked almost every day and that, on several occasions, he had attempted even sleep in the nude; which would have been fine if he had not curled his naked form against ruben's side. He had even once pounced him, like one would expect a cat to do to a playmate, while not wearing clothes, but when Ruben had responded by slamming him into the wall with enough force that Jacques had needed to go to Wendy for a healing session, the slightly older twin had learned not to do so again.
Without allowing Phoebe time to really muse over the fact that Jacques would actually bite him like that, he quickly added, "He is cat right now. Petit et velu – small and furry," and Jacques would likely punch him in the arm for calling him that, "but I zink 'e wants to go to ze surface today."

----------

Meanwhile, Jacques had decided that he was not going to kick Ruben's ass for taking his pants, again, and briefly wondered why the hell he even kept taking them. It had never ended well for the slightly younger twin and it likely never would. Even if Jacques was relatively unbothered by nudity, whether it was his own or somebody else's, he knew that other's were highly bothered by it.
So, in a rare case of actually giving a damn about someone that was not himself and to some degree his brother, he pulled on another pair of pants as soon as his skin stopped tingling after the change. The pants were Ruben's and he made a point of not putting on underwear first, but at least he would not strut into the lounge in nothing but boots and hat again. The dark pants fit him rather snugly, since he was more muscular than his brother and he felt a pang of guilt go through him when he felt the cold metal of the zipper that was sewed into the left pant leg high on the thigh. He decided to steal one of Ruben's shirts, too, for good measure and slipped on a white wifebeater that was an even tighter fit than the pants. He considered taking it off, but he was more stubborn than he was uncomfortable.
Pulling his boots on his bare feet and grabbing his worn, old cowboy-style hat, he headed out of their room. He had two choices; he could either go find Ruben and punch him in the shoulder or go to the surface without telling him so. Since the latter was as unimaginable to him as the Crusaders dancing the waltz, he breathed in though his nose deeply, searching for the familiar scent that belonged to, well, himself.

Kayin was roused from her uneasy sleep by the plastic rustling of the tarp they used to keep away the bugs. Groggy and disoriented, she took some time to reorganize her thoughts before gingerly moving aside the flap of her tent—it looked like someone was getting ready to go out.

Though she had been informally involved with the Resistance for maybe three or four years, she hadn’t been a sanctioned member until just recently, and even newer was the housing setup in which she shared a room with three women her age. She had been very much on edge about it, and requested that each night they all reciprocate her goodnight wish to them, because you didn’t really hurt someone whom you’d said goodnight to just moments earlier, did you? Either way it had made her feel better about the arrangement.

Phoebe—discernible in the dimly-lit room by the red color of her hair—was leaving already, so Kayin assumed it was earlier in the morning than she wanted to be up. Phoebe had a distressing habit of leaving the base early and coming back late, sometimes after everyone else was asleep. Kayin herself stayed up until everyone was accounted for and she had wished them goodnight. It was exhausting, but necessary, since more exhausting still were nighttime delusions that the missing person was standing just beside her, ready to drive a knife into its target.

Either way Kayin wasn’t planning to go anywhere just yet. She knew it would only make her day worse if she didn’t go out now, but it was of little consequence to her at the moment. She would wait it out and see if anyone needed her for something; they knew where to find her. Her role was usually helping out with odd jobs maintaining the base, or on a rare day when things were bad and Wendy was preoccupied healing people in her clinic, Kayin’s strange half-manual, half-Super branch of first aid was called upon on the surface where battles often raged.

Otherwise she spent her days passively, writing strings of words on any available surface in her small dwelling, or taking on the risky job of scavenging for spare parts or plants above ground if she was feeling exceptionally gung-ho. She usually worked alone, which was fine with her, though she sometimes felt like there was some duty she was not living up to, seeing everyone else with battle buddies, establishing connections and bartering.

Things were alright the way they were currently. Kayin took a ballpoint from the gym bag that contained her few possessions and sent faint blue writing down her thigh to pass the time.
"well, you
ripped all the flowers from my garden
and salted the soil
i’ve got my green coffins—
now i’m just leaving"

It was comfortably warm in the beat up car of Enzio, so much in fact that his sister Katerina was quietly dozing off, barely able to keep her head upright. They didn't get much sleep over the last couple of days. Their mother had been buried little over two weeks ago and on top of that there had been increased Crusader activity in their area. Grieving for the passing of his much loved mother was hard enough even without worrying for his sister's life. He couldn't do it both at the same time, so he put his grief aside to protect his sister. The thought of losing her was too much for him to bear. Not only was she a living memory of their mother, she filled the hole she left behind. He shook his head, trying to will away such thoughts. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel with a look of determination on his face. Enzio was willing to do anything to keep her safe. They were driving into the main district of the city and it was fairly quiet for the time of day. Enzio usually wouldn't think much of it, but the news of Crusaders closing in had him on edge. He surveyed the road warily, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

He took his eyes of the road for a couple of seconds to glance at his sleeping sister. His expression softened into a gentle smile, even when she was sleeping she looked like her. Enzio considered snapping a picture of her because he knew she hated photo's, but in the end decided against it. It was too dangerous to take out his phone while he was still driving. With his luck they'd ran into someone and they didn't have the money to fix their own car, let alone someone else's. With their mother gone they lost a good chuck of income. Their father worked hard in the family restaurant and so did his brother who worked a construction job. It was barely enough to go around, the funeral alone had put them in major debt. They had to get a loan to pay for it and it was a miracle they even got it. Katerine made some money occasionally with her fortune telling and catering for people in their community, but it was not a steady source of income. Nobody but they knew about her being a super and he wanted to keep it that way. The less people who knew what she could do the better. He trusted nobody.

Katerina stirred in her seat, feeling like someone was watching her. She opened her eyes and took a deep breath, still halfway asleep. Even without looking at him Katerina knew her brother had been watching her. She straightened her clothes not wanting them to wrinkle and ran her fingers through her curls to make sure they looked good.
"Hey there sleeping beauty" Enzio said jokingly, turning his eyes back on the road. His sister hated that nickname. Even when she was sleeping she somehow made sure she wouldn't mess up her looks. You'd never catch Katerina with a bedhead or wrinkled clothes, not on a normal occasion anyway.

She ignored Enzio teasing her and looked out of the window, they were getting closer to their destination.
"You know, when you're sleeping you look exactly like mom" He attempted to sound casual, but there was an undertone of sadness to his words.
When he mentioned their mother Katerina glanced at him seeing soft clouds of grey gathering around his head. From his chest, grasping claws of vague pink stretched outwards into her direction. None of these were visible to Enzio and he didn't even realize what shapes his thoughts were creating. It told Katerina everything he wasn't able to put into words. He missed her and tried to hold onto her as a replacement almost.

When she tried to make eye contact he avoided her gaze. Enzio knew from his sisters face that she knew more than she let on and he didn't feel like talking about it right now. She carefully put her hand on his arm giving him a soft squeeze.
"I know, you don't have to say it out loud" Katerina said quietly, swallowing back the lump she felt in her throat.

For the remainder of the ride the siblings didn't say much to each other. They weren't the talkative type to begin with and the increasing tension they both felt as they got closer to their destination didn't help much. Enzio pulled over at the side of the road, facing his dad's restaurant. The restaurant was now open nearly the entire day, including the mornings. They offered breakfast too, since they needed all the money they could get. Their dad spent more time in the restaurant than he did at home. It was during the mornings that Katerina could earn a bit of extra cash by offering readings to their customers. Most if not all of the customers were Italian Americans and a lot of them were also very superstitious which was usually the reason they went to Katerina. Anxious to know their future. Still it didn't sit right with Enzio for her to be out in the open like this, it was dangerous.

Katerina watched her dads restaurant from behind the car window, there were a lot of customers considering the time of day. Maybe she would be better of helping her dad waiting tables. Then again she occupied the customers so they didn't mind having to wait a while to get their order. Her grandmother warned her her intuition may be clouded because she was grieving and it was best not to tell fortunes when she felt especially down. But life went on and she needed to do the things she had been doing before her mom passed away.

Enzio looked at his sister who seemed to be lost in thought as usual. She always had something on her mind which was probably the reason why she was so forgetful. It was too busy in there.
"I'll come and pick you up when you're done, so hi to dad for me." He said with slight smile.

"I will" Kat replied, smiling reassuringly.
"Don't forget to ask nona and Carlo what they want for dinner, I'll take it with me when I'm done."
Enzio nodded and waited for his sister to get inside the restaurant before driving off.

She knocked again. This time even harder and this time with her handful of keys on a keychain.

The sounds of metal on metal echoed out into the distance as she glanced over her shoulder, glowing red eyes already set in a half-hearted scowl. But instantly a pang of sadness shot into her heart when she saw no one there standing at her shoulder. “Why doncha just walk through it, Boo? Maybe see some people humping on the other side, you perv..!” he would have said. “Yeah, whatever. Shuddup, Nightfall...” she would reply. Or something to that extent or even lamer. But at any rate, she could still hear her big brother's voice in her head, as fresh and annoyingly dry and coy just like the first day he said it after she actually did walk through a door and witness two people humping.

Stephan always had little quips like that armed and ready for his little sister... just as she had her 'Shuddup' quips always armed in reply. It had always been like that. Always. Another pang shot into her heart when she realized, that only after 5 days of not seeing him or their mom, just how lonely she was. Without them. But they would be here soon. She just knew it.

Through thick pouting lips, Brigitte released a heavy sigh.

It was true. She could float through walls and doors. But why not float on through the Techno's iron walls then, she was posed that question by many. And actually she did try it. A few times. And it cost them several lives of those involved in trying to get Brigitte across the walls. But even if they did succeed and get her across the barrier, what then? Who was out there to help anyways?

And why wasn't there external help in the first place? Was there really anyone out there on the outside that could breach the Technopath's defenses?

Because even a girl who could float through walls was not able to breach the defense mechanisms. The walls were layered. And in one layer was an electrical current. One that shifted and changed. One that scrambled up frequencies that affected things in different “phases” just like a ghost. Boo.

She almost died the first time. She barely made it out before becoming corporeal again. But the third time they almost made it. Almost.

Most likely No-No, as her family and friends called the Technopath, would have already changed it so that if and when their next attempt happened, the work they put in would be more complex and daunting to get her through. But they did almost make it. Almost.

And that was the most powerful thing they had in the world right now.

Hope.

That is what the silvery-headed young woman held in her breast, and that hope cast away the pangs of loneliness and sadness in her heart. Her mom, ShadowBane. Her brother, Stephan/Nightfall. Their friends and their friends' families. They would be here soon. And the Resistance would grow.

Bree stood there, dressed in a dirty grey hoodie and blue jeans both of which were two sizes two big for her. Glowing red eyes, stared at the keys in her possession. So many of them. More than half were useless. But the ones that were useful about 7 of them were precious. One in particular was her favourite. It had an American car brand on it and an 'X' engraved into it.

It was the key to ShadowBane's black sedan.

And hidden in that sedan was the equipment made to attempt breaching No-No's Unbreachable Wall. The car. The cargo. The key. It was out there. They were still out there... she just knew it...

Another sigh escaped her as she stared down at her ratty formerly-white sneakers. Glowing red eyes closed and she was left in near dark once more.

“'In Resistance may we build our own hope, our own fate, our own future...'” she whispered.

Full rosy lips pulled up in a wry smirk as glowing red eyes ignited once more.

“'We build our own hope...'” she repeated dryly then knocked again.

Wendy came to the door and greeted Jeff with a smile. That smile always made him feel at ease, like there was nothing to worry about. He knew, obviously, that there was plenty to worry about; but for now at least he would be able to put it out of his mind. Jeff attempted to return the smile, but it felt forced so he stopped. Jeff pushed against the wall until he was standing upright in the doorway, then eyed his wound as he answered Wendy's question. "Had a run I'm with a new model crusader." As he spoke, Jeff realized that he had lost all feeling in his left arm. A feeling that would be terrifying for him under normal circumstances. He had no doubt however that Wendy could fix it. She has put him together from much worse before.

Accepting his invitation, Jeff entered the clinic, which was uncomfortably small. It wasn't that there wasn't enough room, but that it forced then to remain in close proximity the whole time which felt all to intimate to Jeff; even though Wendy was one of the few resistance members he would consider himself comfortable with. Before taking the offered seat, Jeff carefully removed his armoured top and placed it aside. This exposed the terrible wound in his left shoulder that went right to the bone.

Once he sat down, Jeff looked away and let Wendy get to work. He just couldn't bring himself to look at her when she was so close to him. Instead he looked around the room, wondering if he old find some supplies that would be of help to her. He tried his hand at small talk after several moments of silence. "I guess these empty beds are good news... hopefully they stay that way." As soon as he spoke, Jeff felt like he was way out of his element. He stayed silent for the remainder of their visit, until he said thank you and goodbye.

***

After leaving the Clinic, Jeff headed straight for the main entrance again. He was feeling a little fatigued, but he had work to Do. He needed to get to that kid before the Technopath could. Jeff made no qualms about ignoring people as he jogged by them. Most people were used to Jeff avoiding social interaction when he could, especially when there was something urgent to take care of.

Jeff stopped sharply down the corridor from the entrance. There was a metallic knocking echoing through towards him. "Strange," Jeff muttered under his breath, " I thought everyone was in." Jeff paused only a moment before sprinting to the door, grateful that he still had his spear with him. After turning the large wheel that controls the pressure lock, Jeff heaved the door open to find the exact opposite of What he expected.

The tip of his spear had been the first thing through, which now sat pointed toward the young woman's face. In Jeff's puzzlement he took longer than he should have to withdraw it from her. "Ummm..." was all that came out at first. This was a new one for him. "Can I help you?" Jeff offered finally, not really sure why else to say.

Ah the sun. It wasn't too often that Naomi properly enjoyed it. And while she was top side today was not one of those days. It was far too risky and getting spotted was not an option. No the years have taught her to stay to the shadows and alleys. Even then she didn't often travel far when outside.

Emerging she knew that Piper was usually on runs about this time. Her family had gathered a few items for her to bring back to the Fixers. Her joining the group had come with some tension. Apparently they did not accept people with powers. It allowed them some level of neutrality. It was a smart idea and the young woman respected their cunning. But she was there to learn, not cause any trouble. As such she kept her abilities a secret. Even among people that may not like you quiet was the best way to go for all parties.

Waiting patiently for Piper she opened her bag and puller out a book. Reading was a form of entertainment and knowledge that was mostly safe. It was also one of the few escapes from the situation one was in. To some extent they were something of a commodity since there were a limited amount and no more were coming in. Fiction less so but it still could fetch something decent. Naomi was fortunate that her uncle was an avid reader.

Wendy made a sympathetic sound from the back of her throat when Jeff replied to her question, telling her about a run-in with a new type of Crusader. He walked into the clinic and sat down, exposing the wound in his left shoulder. Wendy was unfazed by the sight, and she began to mop up the blood surrounding the wound with the hand towel she had procured. She carefully wiped away the thick red liquid until there was only a few splotches of it left, putting the cap back onto the metal canister and setting the towel aside as she prepared for the real work.

Wendy gently placed a hand on Jeff's shoulder, her fingertips just an inch or two from the gash carved into his skin. She sent a stream of sparks toward the affected area, pacing herself so she wouldn't get burned out later on. The silvery sparks skipped across Jeff's skin and were seemingly swallowed up by the nasty cut which still had a bit of blood oozing from it. As always, Wendy was transfixed by the sparks, watching them pirouette and grand jeté into the wound, working their magic. Wendy kept her eyes glued on the gash that was quickly closing up, knowing that the sparks were in there repairing cells and rebuilding tissue. If she was perfectly honest with herself, Wendy had no idea how the sparks worked-they just did. Wendy thought of herself as more of a carrier and deliverer of the sparks than the person who facilitated the actual healing process.

After a minute or so of silence, Jeff spoke up. "I guess these empty beds are good news... hopefully they stay that way," he said, seeming to cast a glance around the cluttered room.

Wendy laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "Yes, empty beds certainly are good news," she replied, and the two lapsed into silence again. After a few more minutes, Wendy gingerly prodded at the wound with her right hand, feeling lightly for any smaller cuts she might have missed. The gash was closing up quite speedily, but it would still be a short while before Jeff was completely healed. Wendy let the sparks dance across the wound, subtly varying the amount of sparks that flowed out of her fingertips in order to target the places where the wound seemed most severe, especially the area where the Crusader had punctured Jeff's skin. She moved her hands around the gash, which had stopped bleeding, and concentrated on fixing Jeff up.

Approximately five minutes went by, and Wendy could tell that she was just about finished. The stream of sparks was slowing down as well, transforming from a rushing river into a gurgling creek, going from a spirited jig to a graceful waltz. Finally, Wendy sent a last burst of sparks before letting the flow peter out and eventually fade. She was sweating slightly, but the gash had disappeared from Jeff's skin, leaving no trace of its existence. Wendy cleaned up the rest of the blood and smiled at Jeff.

"You are good to go," she told him, tossing the bloodied towel into a cardboard box at the foot of the bed in the middle. This particular box was in use as a laundry hamper of sorts, although most clothing did not go into the washing machine dyed a deep crimson. Jeff thanked her and bade her farewell, and Wendy gave him a small wave, watching him walk out the door before turning to wash her hands.

Wendy's thoughts flitted to Phoebe. She wondered what the spunky redhead was doing-probably either sleeping or getting ready to head up to the surface with Jacques, or maybe simply chatting somebody's ear off somewhere in the Headquarters. Wendy felt her lips instinctively quirk up in an affectionate grin. Phoebe's energy and enthusiasm was rare these days, and she reminded Wendy of her childhood friend from home. Wendy recalled how they would race through the streets at dawn to avoid being late for school, how they could talk to each other about anything and everything, and how they used to play in the yard as five-year-olds, jumping rope and chasing each other around. Wendy sighed a tad wistfully, shaking off her nostalgic thoughts. Phoebe was like Wei Xiao in many ways, despite the fact that Wei Xiao was more than ten years older than Phoebe-like Wendy herself.

Wendy decided that it would be a good time to get something to eat, so she walked out of the clinic and shut the door behind her. The lock was busted, but she knew that nobody in the Resistance would steal from the clinic. Wendy walked through the corridors at a leisurely pace, smiling and nodding to other members of the Resistance that she passed on her way to get some food.

Ilyaas yawned as he awoke. Another sleepy day, another night survived without having been killed in his sleep by mechanised steel.

Working in the crew's only electronics workshop, the place was pretty much his home. He could return to the surface, yeah, his powers pretty much guaranteed that, but he knew his place was down here, helping what remained of the metahuman species survive.

He knew his place. Everyone knew. If someone had something that was broken, like a radio or a cellphone, they'd bring it to him. Any electronic scrap or machine or gadget that someone found, they brought to him. He'd use his rudimentary smarts, combined with what little manuals and texts he'd scavenged from the world above, to fix or remedy what problems he was given. Then the objects would be returned to their owners, or the scrap kept within his workshop for future projects. He wasn't much of an inventor, but anything to help the cause was appreciated, at least.

He wiped his face with a wet rag, then wrung it and laid it out on a rack to dry. That was the problem with trying to be self-sufficient underground, no renewable resources. The water was one of their most valuable, and he could only make so many trips aboveground to buy or steal what he could carry. No one else possessed his particular powerset, so anyone that dared venture aboveground risked death or worse, capture. Twice a week he made the adventure aboveground, raiding convenience and grocery stores for whatever they had that he could carry. Water, food, medicine, or any other supplies that were in demand.

Thinking back to his earlier days, he knew that he was happier here. He had people, friends that knew him and appreciated his company, not like his former colleagues in his previous job. Last he'd heard, he'd found that one of his former bosses had been a Super, and he'd been promptly exterminated by one of the Technopath's bots.

Happier.

He stretched a little and went outside. His little workshop sat in one of the corners of the underground labyrinth that was their collective home, and the only way people knew he was awake was when the sign that hung from the ceiling said 'open', which was what he did. The sign swung around easily on its chain and he smiled. Another day for business, another day to spend working on something that could beat the Technopath's bots, hopefully.

Then he remembered: today was supply run day. He swung his sign back around and sighed to himself. This morning, he'd dedicate to mostly going around to all the various residences and other places to ask around for supply requests. To make a shopping list, essentially, and to do that he'd need paper and a pencil. He grabbed those from within his workshop and set out to his first destination: the clinic. Hopefully Wendy was still there for him to -

Oh, there she was, just heading out. He smiled and waved to her, quickening his pace so he'd catch up to her.

"Wendy! Have a moment? Today's supply day, and, um, I'd like to know if you need anything. Mind if, um, I walk with you?"

Wendy was heading down to the common area, one of the larger tunnels where other tunnels intersected. The Headquarters could be confusing to newcomers at time, and it was not all too uncommon to see a few wandering aimlessly until they found a sight that they recognized. The common area was where the members of the Resistance ate. It was a relatively open room, with less of the claustrophobic quality of the smaller tunnels and living quarters that branched out of it, and generally there was always a sizable amount of people were milling about in the common area whenever Wendy went there. Usually, meals were canned and non-perishable foods, but on the rare occasion that anything fresh was available, Wendy was always eager to have some. Fresh food was hard to come by these days, and Wendy always appreciated the chance to have some.

She had only been walking for a minute or two when a man Wendy knew as Mahmud approached her. Wendy thought that he had one of the most useful powers in the Resistance. He was able to effectively become invisible, or, as he had described it-he was able to make it so people did not notice him. For that reason, he was an essential part of the Resistance when it came to supplies. He was quite a bit older than Wendy, with brown hair and a friendly nature.

"Wendy! Have a moment? Today's supply day, and, um, I'd like to know if you need anything. Mind if, um, I walk with you?" Mahmud came trotting up alongside her, smiling and waving.

Wendy returned his smile with one of her own. She fell in step beside him in the direction of the common area. "Hello Mahmud!" she greeted chirpily. "Feel free to come with me, I am only getting something to eat," she continued. Wendy thought for a moment before addressing the second part of his question. "Hmm...well, as always, clean water would be nice. I know how hard it is to get that though, so don't worry too much if you cannot manage to find some. Also, sterile equipment too, but again I know things like that are hard to come by. Anything you can find for sicknesses would be much appreciated. I'm not very good at healing people when I can't see the source," Wendy answered him, her voice turning slightly bashful when she reached the last sentence. "Just the usual-you know, medicine for common colds and cough medicine and the like."

Wendy fell silent and waited for Mahmud's response.

"Of course, of course, I'd love to have a meal with you. I haven't eaten since last night, actually."

Ilyaas walked with Wendy towards the living area, where the smell of food hit him before he even entered. Today was one of those good days, apparently. He could smell canned foods, mostly; things like spam, tuna, beans, chilli, stuff people could heat and eat straight from the can. Some of the more enterprising ones had settled on plates, mashing together meat and vegetables for a primitive sort of meal. It was breakfast, after all.

He'd been tinkering with what spare parts they had lying around, mostly to just figure out what they did. What treasures he had were hidden away in his workshop; remnants of old Crusaders, working computers, even the odd plasma television or two. He was trying to design some sort of camouflage system, similar to his powers, but he was no electrical engineer and for all his fiddling around he'd come up with jack squat.

Ilyaas led her to his favourite place in the room: a small, quiet corner away from the general din in the center. He grabbed a can of soup and two packets of salted crackers from a nearby shelf and placed the can on a kerosene stove to heat. While he left Wendy to watch the soup, he made his way to the bulletin board someone had kindly set up near the main entrance. He'd took it upon himself to provide the residents of the Underground with items and provisions from aboveground, and someone had had the bright idea to compile a list of said things twice a week and place it on the board where he could find it. The list (which was a clipboard with a pen, several sheets of paper and a brightly coloured sign above it) was updated regularly by the residents who wrote down whatever they needed for him to look through on a supply day. Today was one of those days, and several of the regulars greeted him on his way to retrieve the clipboard. With that in hand he returned to Wendy, where the soup was quietly bubbling away in its can, idly looking through the requests that had been penned down.

"Mmm...looks like we're running out of water again. I can add your medical supplies to this list too, I'll get those on my first run. I might have to make several trips too...not sure how much we need and I honestly don't know how much I can carry back from above ground...hmm."

Ilyaas briefly thumbed through the other entries. He made a mental note to also bring in more paper and writing materials for the folks.

Having finished her reading Naomi shut her book and put it back away in her bag. She'd spent more time top side than she probably should have. Moving her position she made her way to an entrance to the underground. It was not much trouble getting down or moving about. Thanks to her family she'd managed to get one of those shake up flashlights. Who needs batteries? Realistically the device wasn't particularly complicated. She already had converted it and could make the parts for more. Only thing stopping her was keeping a lid on her powers. With the right stuff and time she probably could make what was needed to power just about anything. But that would be a can of worms. Everyone would want things from her and they would start to draw more attention.

Having shaken the light enough the switched it on and began navigating her way toward HQ. Even from them she hid what she could truly do. Working with the Fixers if they found out she was a super then her goal of learning from them would be over. Getting around below was slow going at times. Even when one could see the environment was not without hazards. Slick floors can make a fall easy. With any luck she would run into someone coming up for more supplies, maybe make a trade.

Wendy followed Mahmud into a quiet corner tucked away from the main area. He got a can of soup and crackers, then placed the can of soup on top of the stove. Then, he walked off, presumably to check the bulletin board for any supplies that people needed. The common area was dimly lit by the glow of candles and such scattered around the room. It was tacitly agreed that nobody would just run off with the cans of food lying around on the shelves, although Wendy could vaguely remember an incident with someone and ten cans of green beans from when the Resistance first sprang up.

Mahmud returned a few minutes later with a clipboard in his hand, muttering to himself. Wendy watched the soup, turning the stove off when the soup looked ready. "Mmm...looks like we're running out of water again. I can add your medical supplies to this list too, I'll get those on my first run. I might have to make several trips too...not sure how much we need and I honestly don't know how much I can carry back from above ground...hmm." he said.

Wendy nodded, smiling gratefully. "That would be much appreciated," she replied while dividing the soup into two bowls. The bowls were cheap plastic ones and stained with all sorts of strange colors, but one could not be too picky in times like these. Wendy handed Mahmud a small spoon and took one for herself, the handles rusty and discolored. It was not until Wendy began to eat that she noticed what type of soup it was-tomato. For a moment, Wendy thought back to the spinach and egg soup her grandmother used to always make back in China, and a seemingly physical aching filled her gut. Wendy shook her head slightly and pushed away the memories. The past was in the past, and she would have to make do with the present, no matter how ugly it was.

Wendy finished her meal, munching away at the crackers after all the soup was gone. She got up and left her bowl, spoon, and the soup can by a large bucket of water, which was already surrounded by other utensils. One of the supers who could control water was responsible for cleaning up after each meal. Wendy returned to the corner where she had left Mahmud, nodding a hello to a few people here and there, stopping a few times to ask people who had recently come into the clinic how they were holding up.

"I should really get back to the clinic," Wendy said to Mahmud when she got back to where he was sitting, her voice a tad apologetic. "I will see you later?"

With Mama's belongings hanging off her shoulder Piper skipped the rest of her usual route. Of course that meant she missed poor Naomi who had been sitting and waiting on Piper's usual route. With her new burden Piper walked with a purpose, but not abnormally enough to attract attention. Her eyes darted to keep watch on the people she passed. A few eyed her and her bags, but no one made a move. When she reached her street she relaxed slightly.

Wilson hailed her from his stall. "Back so soon. Find anything good?" The food vendor eyed her bags. The scrawny older man was friendly, but always noisy. He knew everything about everyone. And he had light fingers. You had to watch your pockets around him.

Piper smiled at him and retorted, "Maybe, Mr. Noisy, you'll have to wait and find out like everyone else." She pitched her voice so all the stalls nearby could hear. At her words a chorus of laughter broke out. Wilson flushed but was undeterred.

"Just for that I'm charging you double!" He cried, his comb over flopping with his mock outrage.

Piper just kept smiling and waggled her fingers at him. Everyone watched out for everyone on this street. Piper worked for them at a discounted prices and they gave Piper the same courtesy. Without the extra help no one would make it. They, for better or worse, were family. Carly tried to get Piper to come over to her stall, but the black woman shook her head. Later. She mouthed as she continued on.

The apartment complex she lived in had been built almost fifteen years ago. When the walls had gone up it hadn't been in the best shape. Now it was better and worse. Better, because the people who lived there knew they had no chance of leaving. And if they didn't care for the building, no one would. Worse because there was no way to continue fixing everything that went wrong. There was no running water on anything but the first floor. No AC no heat. Electricity was spotty at best, thanks to Piper's handy work. And of course TV was a thing of the past.

The locks still worked through. Piper pulled out her key and let herself into her third story flat. She moved past organized mounds of scrap metal and parts towards her bed. She unloaded her bags and carefully sorted out what she might need that day and left the rest of be dealt with later. Since she had missed most of her morning rounds, she'd have to go before nightfall. But for now she needed to open her repair shop and earn what she could. She stripped out of her dress and into a pair of coveralls and boots.

Piper locked the door behind her and went back out onto the street. She clomped over to Carly's stall and passed over a small flower vase. Carly exclaimed at the workmanship.

"My doll!" She cooed. "This is beautiful." She passed the vase to her daughter with instructions and the girl took off. "And this is yous." Carly passed over a small bag of tangerines.

"Thank you." Piper said with a small bow. "Let me know if I need to watch your little minions." The two women shared a smile before Piper departed. Her store was further down the street the opposite way she had been all day. It was secured behind a metal pull down door. She pulled out her keys again and opened it on up, shoving the door upwards roughly. It groaned in protest and she mentally added grease to her list of things she needed more of.

No lights worked in her store. But she was lucky the ambient light was enough to work by in the morning. In the afternoon she would spill out onto the street. By late afternoon she'd close up and finish her rounds that she didn't get to today. Then she'd go back home for some sleep. Once true night fell Piper would emerge again as a Fixer.

Piper looked over her shops, checking for anything out of place. Satisfied everything was in order Piper got to work on pending jobs and waited for more customers.