Rin woke up as if from a horriffic nightmare. Cold sweat ran down her spine as she looked over the trashed room in front of her. Unaware of where she was, she crawled backwards towards a corner with frightened eyes scanning ahead. The place seemed unfamiliar to her and completely wrecked. Did someone do all this? How was she okay? Why was she here? A blinding headache came over her as flashes of memories flickered throughout her mind. Familiar faces of people she worked with, patients happy with their prosthetics, friends who joked with her. All these images made no sense as she felt the nails in her fingertips scratched against the shell of bone behind her head and neck. What is happening? she thought feeling the bone fragments as the protruded out her body.

Slowly getting up she looked around and noticed her reflection in the mirror. The person she saw was nothing like any of the pictures in her head. Her skin was pale white and the places where bone lay were a matte gray in color. Tearing off the already ripped clothes and staring mezmerized by her own naked reflection, Plates of bone could be seen slowly growing and covering parts of her body, the only part on her that wasn't ivory white, gray or silver was her eyes. Those looked familiar.... Deep blue crystal clear eyes that brought back images that felt warm and comforting. She basked in those thoughts only for a moment as the scuttling of a little white mouse ran across the floor. Instinctively with one quick swipe picked the mouse up by its tail and layed it across he palm. Staring at the mouse as it sniffed its owner and looking at the pointed ends of her fingers as its wiskers tickled her skin.

"Harry..." She whispered. "Your name is Harry." She remembered. Smiling a wide toothy smile as she actually remembered something...but who was she? What was her name? Keeping the mouse in her palm she walked around the building taking it all in. Her naked feet clicked on the marble floor as bone covered her heel and toes. Looking around for some kind of clue. She accidently kicked a small picture frame of herself, her father, and a handfull of staff members. Looking at the picture brought her warmth but the faces themselves might as well of been complete strangers... even her own. Tossing the picture back to the ground she picked back up her torn lab coat and wrapped it back around herself. Not because of modesty due to her naked body, but due to the fact that she felt cold. Placing Harry into one of the untorn pockets Rin aimlessly walked out of the office and attempted to take in her surroundings hopefully fixing her shattered memories. The sun felt warm against her skin and the concrete scratched at her feet in a satisfying way. Walking along the sidewalk she took in every scent, every sound as if it was the first time she ever stepped outside. Instinctively she broke out into a sprint and smiled. Laughing and giggling as the sound of the wooshing by her ears complimented the thumps as her heels hit the pavement. Enjoying every second like a caged animal finally let free.

"I'm sorry, I have to leave, now."

James turned his head to watch the girl as she walked away, even trying to take one or two steps to try to stop her from leaving. A hand wrapped around his wrist, and he turned to see his brother, arm outstretched, and shaking his head.

"Come on, bro, just get in the car. She has her own reasons for leaving. Don't get yourself, or me, in anymore trouble than we already are. There is no point in doing so."

Defeated, and without a word, James turned and got into the limousine, followed by his brother, then his father. Once inside, Henry turned to the glass divider, and knocked twice. The car jerked to a start, and drove off in the direction of they boys' apartment.

"I can't believe you two. I mean, seriously. I told you not to get into trouble, and what do you do? You get yourselves into fucking trouble. I swear, it's like you don't even listen to a word I say. Do you know how this case could've made me look? How irresponsible could you two be? Going to that lowlife club, hanging out with that lowlife girl-"

"You don't know her!" James interrupted. The inside of the limo grew quiet. Mason looked down at the floor of the car, James looked straight at his father.

"Oh," Henry said, a small smile growing on his face. "I don't know her. I'm sorry. Did I offend?" He turned his head to Mason. "Mason, how long has the boy known that lowlife?"

Mason didn't even look up from the floor. "A day or so, pop..."

"Ah, a day or so.. So then, that means that James doesn't really know that girl either, does she?"

"Guess not, pop..."

"So tell me, James, what makes you think you know her, as well? For all you know, she could have just been waiting for the right time to kill you, to kill your brother, and then take money so that she could her next fix. And don't look so surprised, you know in the back of your mind, that was a possibility."

An hour later, the car had reached its destination, and stopped in front of the apartment. Mason was the first one out, and James was on his way out right after.
***
Hours later, at around one in the morning, both James and Mason were at Solaris, a club much like Eclipse in Zone Beta. The music made the whole club beat with the heavy bass song that was playing, and James just stared at his drink as it rippled in time with the music. To anyone looking at him, it was clear he didn't want to talk. Even his brother had laid off him for a while, moving to another side of the club where he was smoking and shot-gunning the smoke into a very attractive blonde's mouth. After a few moments, James lifted the drink to his lips and downed the rest of it in a matter of seconds. He turned to leave when a soft hand stopped him.

"And where do you think you are going, cutie?"

James turned to meet the blood red eyes of a beautiful brunette. She was rather tall, about 5'10" if James were to be asked to guess, but then again, that could have been the result of five-inch stiletto heels. Her teeth where as white marble, and lips as red as her eyes. Everything screamed out perfect, and she was interested in him.

"I... I.. uh.. was actually just about to leave."

The female pouted slightly and shook her head. "No, no. Don't leave yet. You look like you could use a pick-me-up, cutie. Here, let me buy you a drink. What do you usually have?"

James stood there, silent, for a moment, then shook his head. "Uh, yeah, sure. Um.. I usually get the green star. Sounds girly, I know, but its mainly for the color. Green brings me a sort of, comfort."

The girl, with a small smile, ordered two of the drinks and ushered the man back down. They talked about the weather, stuff going on in the city, mostly mindless chit-chat. He learned that the girl was a part-time waitress at some local restaurant, going to college there in District One. Her parents were some politicians who worked with James' father on some committee when he used to work in the legislature. The red eyes was due to some form of genetic mutation, but rather than being called a freak for it, her popularity in school sky-rocketed. Everyone wanted to be friends with he red-eyed girl. James listened intently, almost in a trance, as she droned on and on, taking a sip of his drink every so often. To be honest, he was glad he was able to have his mind taken off Vander and his father for a little while. Then his trance was broken when she asked him a rather peculiar question.

"So, do you want to try It?"

The man shook his head. "I'm sorry. What? Do I want to try, what?"

"It. That's what it is called among everyone who uses it, other than that, it is nameless. The cops don't even know about this yet. It is this new drug going around, but It is only found in Zone Alpha. It's a great experience. Your mind's potential is like, fully unlocked, James. You are able to do things, think things, feel things that you weren't able to feel, before!" Before James had the opportunity to politely turn him down, the young woman was already digging in her purse. She produced two, small, green, what looked like candies, and smiled. He dropped one in her drink, and the other in James'. As the pills dissolved, she turned to James once more. "Look. I promise you, I am not trying to roofie you or anything. You just look like you could use It." With that, the girl grabbed her drink and downed it.

James, utterly confused, just picked up the drink. If it really was going to make him feel better than he was feeling, now, then why not? With a slight shrug, the man brought the glass to his lips and tilted it back, savoring the burn the drink gave as went down.

Nothing.

He felt no different at all. He turned to the girl, who was beaming at him, and opened his mouth to ask how long it took, then it hit him.

He looked around and saw everything more clearly. He looked at one of the tables and was able to tell that the angle of the joints were actually 89 degrees, 99 minutes, and 99 seconds; only a mere second short from being a true 90 degrees. He could tell that the girl that Mason was shotgunning was actually not a natural blonde, and had bleached her hair rather poorly, something that would have been missed in the dim lighting of the club. He turned again and saw the notes of the music playing, flying around in the air. He looked at the dance floor and was able to calculate everyone's next movement down to the exact millimeter. A giant smile flashed across his face as he looked back at the girl. He could literally see her pheromones being sent out from her. He reached out his hand and could actually feel himself being displaced in time and space, and what a rush that was. The brunette, who's name was Amy, something he had forgotten when he wasn't in this state, reached out and grabbed his hand. She pulled him in close, and he could smell every single different scent on her individually, just like a dog, would.

"You know, they say that sex feels a lot better in this state, as well."
***
The penthouse room of The Cosmopolitan, an almost exact replica of the ancient Los Vegas Hotel, burst open as James and Amy stepped inside. Just by taking once glance around, he knew the whole layout of the room, every nook and cranny, and went back to work, smashing his lips into Amy's pulling her closer to him. They moved to the bedroom, taking off garment after garment as they did so. Once in the bedroom, James pushed the woman down onto the bed and started his work, placing his lips on just the right spots up her leg, thigh, waist, stomach, breasts, neck, then back down; all thanks to the help of his now, infinite knowledge. They went at it for a good couple of hours, only stopping when they were out of protection.

As Amy took her time in the shower, James went to the front of the room and grabbed the pen and pad of paper provided. With his mind still racing, he drew out music sheets on a bunch of the empty pages of the pad and went to work creating a symphony. About halfway in, he placed the pen down on the paper and couldn't draw another note. In fact, he didn't even know what he was doing, only that it was sheet music, and there was music written on it, something that he hadn't even learned how to do. He suddenly felt horribly inadequate. He turned around and saw Amy and shook his head.

"I know," she said with a small, reassuring smile. "That is the only down side to the whole trip." She reached into her purse and pulled out a couple of the "candies" and handed it to him. "For the road. Thanks for the great night," she said with a wink. She kissed him on the cheek and walked out the door.
***
Twenty minutes later, James walked into his apartment where his brother was waiting.

"Where were you? I went looking for you when I was ready to go and you weren't there. "

"I was out."

"With who? Did you finally listen to me and pick up a chick?"

"Yes. Now, can I go bed? I have a headache, and I am tired."

"Yeah, that's fine, bro. Goodnight."

"Night."

[Collab post between YoshiSkittlez and Mach2]

---

One Year Ago
Deon had once again entered the ring with a new-found power ripping through him. The gathered crowd erupted into a roar of applause and cheers, but not for Deon…for his competitor. Stepping into the ring, Deon stared down his competition and realized immediately just why the man in the hat had stressed wanting to help him. The man was a true behemoth, nearly twice the size as Deon in every aspect of the word, and obviously a crowd favorite.

After cracking his neck, Deon shot a sideways glance to his new found friend, and the two exchanged a simple nod, a truly dark smile spreading across Deon’s face in the process before squaring off his opponent once more. The bell sounded, and the fight began.

The behemoth threw the first punch, landing a left hook square in his jaw forcing Deon’s head to follow the motion of the punch, a mixture of sweat and blood spraying from his loosened lips. The man did not back down then, as he used the momentum to his advantage and threw a right hook to the other side of Deon’s face as he went left, the drastic change in direction sending Deon to the floor in a spiral.

Deon pushed himself to his hands and knees, using his hand to wipe and check for blood coming from his nose, but the behemoth charged him once more, grabbing him under the legs with one python of an arm, and under his neck with the other. He raised Deon over his head and charged towards the iron bars that enclosed the area, smashing Deon hard against it and letting him fall the good seven feet to the ground in a crumpled heap. Again, the man refused to let up as he ran up to Deon and pummeled his steel-toed boot into his ribcage over and over again before he turned his back and pumped up the crowd, sure that the fight was now over.

Had this been a normal fight, it would have been over, but the new-found drug pushing through Deon’s blood had Deon jumping back to his feet, brushing himself off as if the beating he had just received was nothing more than a trip and fall. The behemoth turned, his expression obviously confused at the display of his opponent. Deon just smiled, ignoring the dripping blood coming from his lip and nose and started stretching his arms casually, like he was just warming up.

“Don’t you fuck with me kid, fight me.” The man shouted, pointing a sausage finger at Deon.

Deon just scoffed and then proceeded to stretch out his legs, one at a time and then rolled his shoulders, throwing a few practice air punches. The man snarled in anger and rushed Deon, throwing another punch that held enough power to end anyone’s career, but Deon was quick. He caught the ban in the middle of his arm, driving his elbow down into the center while using his other hand to grab onto the man’s wrist and turned it in an unnatural direction, the combined move undoubtedly breaking the man’s arm at the elbow.

The man fell to the ground in pain, clutching onto his arm as if his life had depended on it. It was now Deon’s turn. A dark smile spread across his face once more, and proceeded to beat the man senseless on the ground…even after he started screaming for mercy.

---

Deon’s eyes snapped open. A small amount of sweat had accumulated to his forehead which he raised his hand to and wiped away immediately. He rolled over onto his side, finding a naked woman on his bed looking to have also passed out sometime during the sex. He moved closer to her, so that his own naked body pressed closely to her backside and wrapped his arm around her waist, his hand lazily tracing lines across her stomach. Propped up on his elbow, he lowered his head to plant soft kisses along her shoulder and up to her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. He remembered now, the girl that had come to ask him for Lucid…and the only girl that had ever seemed…hesitant toward his advances.

Vander awoke slowly to a world of pain. The sharp ache that had presented itself sometime during her attempt at sex had worsened while she’d been unconscious. A quiet whimper escaped her, and she instinctively curled in around her aching stomach. It took a series of short and gasping breaths before she began to become aware of anything besides the agonizing sensation around her abdomen.

Finally, she realized she wasn’t alone in the bed. Vander blinked her eyes open, dimly aware of someone else’s skin pressed up against her own, of someone else’s arm around her waist, and of someone else’s lips along the bones of her neck and shoulders. She twisted quickly to see Deon’s face…

…and immediately scrambled out of his grip and off the bed, giving a gasp of pain at the sudden motion. The girl grabbed her oversized jacket from the floor, wrapping it self-consciously around herself. Did I honestly pass out? She stared, wide-eyed, at Deon. Unable to stand, but refusing to sit back down on the bed, she took a step back to lean most of her weight against the wall. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I…guess I passed out. I’m just…I really need Lucid soon.”

Deon watched her bolt from him with a bit of a chuckle coming from his throat. He took a moment to stretch his sore muscles, a jab of pain to a few areas in his chest and ribs reminding him of the very reason why he was here in the bedroom in the first place and not out in the bar fighting. He rubbed his hand over his eyes tiredly and sat up, fishing for his boxers and put them back on, followed by his pants.

The other girls that had been in the room earlier were all but gone, leaving just the two of them alone. After getting up and off of the bed, Deon slipped on an old faded green t-shirt and walked to the sink, cupping his hands and splashed his face and half shaved head with the cool water before turning back to the girl.

"What did you say your name was again?" He asked running his fingers through what little hair he had on the top of his head, the water making select strands stick together in an almost mohawk type style.

She watched him warily, reaching down to the floor to grab her clothes while he walked to the sink. Her head spun as she straightened up again, forcing her to either sit back down on the edge of the bed or risk passing out a second time. She chose the former.

"Vander. My name's Vander," she answered as she began to dress, pulling on her underwear and jeans with obvious effort. Every movement was hurting, and the pain showed in her face. Her jacket already on, she opted to stuff her shirt into it's pocket rather than undress again.

Deon looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, examining her face more so than her body for the first time since meeting her.

"Yeah, yeah I think I remember you now. The girl that had the hots for that Jamison boy right?" He snickered and went to the bedside, lending her a hand to help her up seeing the great effort a seamless task of getting dressed was for her. "Didn't I get you some Lucid then? I honestly can't remember anything much past his daddy coming to pull him out of that fight with all of his body guards."

She accepted his help reluctantly, truly doubting her ability to stand up again on her own. Even as she stood, another wave of lightheadedness hit her. She blinked hard, steadying herself, before answering.

"Yeah...you got me Lucid yesterday. It should have lasted at least until tomorrow. But someone...I got back to my apartment and it was gone," she said, trying to explain in words that grew more rushed and mumbled as she spoke. "And I really need some more, soon. You said you'd get me some if..." she trailed off, nodding awkwardly to the bed where they had both passed out moments earlier.

He nodded, and after making sure she'd be fine on her feet he let go of her bony hand. "Yeah yeah I know what I said." He mumbled and started searching the room for something. It was a wonder he could ever find anything in this place to begin with, what with all the assorted drugs, alcohol and sex toys spread all over. Even the women from before had left a good majority of their clothing behind, scattered across the area like you would expect a teenagers bedroom to be. Finally finding what he was looking for on the counter behind an array of empty glass bottles, Deon plugged the small black device into his ear and waited. He waited for what seemed like a good five minutes before he took the device out of his ear, looking somewhat perplexed.

"No answer..." He said softly, more to himself than to her. His eyes then darted to the opposite counter where other pills were stored, but these ones were marked in what looked like prescription bottles rather than see-through plastic baggies like the other drugs were. He went to the prescription drugs and fumbled through a few of them before selecting one and popped the lid open, and shook a few green and purple pills into his hand. He then popped them into his mouth and swallowed hard without the aid of water and capped the bottle, placing it back onto the counter.

Vander watched in complete confusion as he popped the handful of pills. No answer? The thought sent a knot of worry through her stomach, intense enough to add to the omnipresent ache already there. "What do you mean, no answer?" she started to ask quietly.

"Just...give me a minute and...ACK-" Deon's hands shot to his side where his ribs had been cracked, a series of pained noises coming from him as he stumbled over to the couch and fell down onto it, holding himself as the pain inside of him continued to burn until it became a dull throb. Minutes passed, and Deon seemed to have gained control of himself once more. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he got back off of the couch and walked to Vander, no longer a limp in his step like before...almost as if he didn't have a single injury at all anymore.

"Okay, I need to go by my guy's place and see whats up. You comin or what?"

She stared, blinking in confusion and wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her. Deon had definitely been limping before. She remembered him limping. At his question, whether she was coming, it took an enormous effort for her to force herself to nod. It felt as though she had already walked halfway across a country to try to get her drugs. The drugs that should have been waiting for her in her apartment. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," she muttered. After a brief pause, she couldn't help but inquire about the pills he had swallowed. "What were those? Painkillers?"

Her nod was all he needed before he started walking, exiting the room and shutting the door behind Vander as she exited behind him.

"Hm?" He turned his head towards her as they walked, noticing that her frail condition was keeping her at a much slower walking pace and frowned. If she was going to walk like this the whole way there, his entire night was ruined. No, no they would take his bike to the warehouse. His mind coming back to her question, he only grinned.

"Something like that, yeah." He mused, keeping it at that.

Once outside, he rounded the corner of the building and stopped at a motercycle that was obviously built for one, but Deon had no doubt that Vander could fit in on the back with how damn thin she was. He stradled the bike and gunned it to life, looking at her and waiting expectently.

Vander's expression fell visibly when she saw the single rider bike that Deon approached. The noise of the engine grated against her ears, further evoking the rageful headache that was still splitting through her head. It wasn't her first time riding as a passenger on a bike...but the previous times, it had been a bike meant for two. And she hadn't felt like she was going to pass out at any second.

She approached hesitantly and climbed onto the bike. Forgetting about her own personal boundaries, she pressed herself as close as she could to Deon. Right now, she was more worried about staying on the bike than keeping her distance from him. Wrapping her thin arms around his chest, she held on as tightly as she could manage, fully aware that it was not all that tight.

As soon as he felt that she had a good enough grip on him, he pushed down on the petal and they were off, out of the parking lot of The Spit and down a narrow path of windy alleyways (the same path he had taken her down before) until they reached the warehouse. Lurching the bike to a quick stop, though keeping it going, Deon jumped off of the bike and approached the door, knocking the same rythmic pattern as he had done the night before...only this time...there was no answer. Deon frowned, and tried again. Nothing, not even a peep from the other side. Deon turned to Vander.

"Did we come here last night? When I got you your stuff..."

She shook her head, entirely uncertain. "I don't know...you don't...when you're having Lucid withdrawals, you can't see stuff right, and you can't focus, and..." she took a breath, staring intently at the door and searching through her memories.

Everything was sharper with Lucid. The door was blurred, the entire alleyway was blurred, as if she was viewing it through a haze. She raised a hand to her head, closing her eyes and willing herself to focus. Last night, she'd had Lucid, after Deon had injected it to her neck, and before he had taken his payment for the drug.
Opening her eyes again, she glanced around the alleyway. Her gaze settled finally on a spot on the ground some distance away. It was blurred now, like everything else. But she remembered what the ground had looked like with Lucid. Looking back to Deon, Vander nodded firmly. "Yes. It was here," she answered, looking worried. "Why's there no answer now?"

Deon threw his hands up in the air. "Do I look like I have a fucking clue?" He shouted at her. He ran his hand over his face quickly, trying to think. Something wasn't right, someone was always here. He left the front door and started walking around the building until he found a window and tried peeking inside, but his guys had them painted black long ago. With a grumble, he drove his fist into the glass, immediately feeling his skin starting to tear around his knuckles. He brought his hand back out through the newly made hole and punched the rest of the glass out, ignoring the blood dripping down his arm from his fist, until there was nothing put an empty frame where a window had once been.

Vander followed him around to the window, growing more unsteady on her feet by the second. The tremors had returned, as violent as ever, and it was growing increasingly difficult to concentrate on what was happening. She leaned heavily against the wall, watching Deon with a scared expression, and praying that somehow, there was someone inside. At very least, a handful of syringes. If she didn't get Lucid tonight, she knew that she wasn't going to make it to morning.

Putting both hands on the ledge, he jumped up and hoisted himself up and inside, hearing his boots landing on the cement below him with a loud echo. Once he straightened up and looked around, his stomach turned and his face grew dark. Dead. They were all...dead.

---

One Year Ago

“Shit, mom’s home. Quick, hide the ice cream!” Deon laughed, practically pushing his little 8 year old sister Kallian off of the couch and shoved the carton of double fudge mocha ice cream into her hands.

“But she’ll see me!” Kallian whined, her bright green eyes truly unsure of what to do, so Deon groaned and scrambled off of the couch, picking up his sister by the waist and carrying her like a rag doll into the kitchen with his sister laughing the whole way. Once in the kitchen, he set her down on her feet gently and then took the ice cream from her and stuffed it into the freezer, just as the kitchen door opened letting their mother.

Kallian and Deon both scrambled to look like they weren’t up to anything, but a mother knows.

“Did you feed your sister tonight?” She asked, and Deon nodded his head up and down. “Oh really? What did you have?” Deon shifted his glance to his little sister and realized immediately his mistake. The chocolate ice cream had left evidence all over her tiny little mouth.

“Uh…you know…shit like we always eat.” Deon said with a shrug and earned him a prompt smack on the back of the head from his mother.

“You watch your mouth boy.” She said sternly, but Deon could only beam at his mother.

“Okay, okay, so we had some ice cream. But mom, I got a HUGE bonus at work today. I got me a new agent, and he’s giving me double what I was making last time, provided of course I keep winning.” He said, the excitement oozing from his voice, unable to contain it any longer. “I went out and bought us some real food mom, stuff we can actually enjoy…like ice cream!” He got ‘the look’ from his mother. “I-I got some good stuff too. Fresh fruit, meat…mom, you don’t have to work anymore. I can take care of us. You can stay home and be a mom, you-“ Deon’s mother cut him off with a simple finger in the air, her attention then going to Kallian.

“Kallie dear, won’t you please go wash up for bed?” She asked, and the girl obeyed, leaving Deon and his mother alone. “Deon we’ve already had this discussion-“

“And I’m not letting you ignore being a mother to Kallie like you did to me.” Deon interrupted, making his mother go silent. He put his hand on his mother’s shoulder, looking her deep in the eyes. “Mom…you don’t have to keep entertaining men for the rest of your life at night and working those three jobs during the day. You’re going to kill yourself. I just got handed this great opportunity and I bet that within a year, we can even move up a district with all the money I’ll be making…”

“Deon…”

“I’M NOT GOING TO DO NOTHING LIKE MY FATHER DID.”

The room went completely quiet, and Deon’s hand left his mother’s shoulder and turned away, unable to look at the tears welling up in his mother’s eyes.
“You didn’t even know you’re father…”

“I know. And frankly, I don’t care who he is. All I know is that he left you when he found out you were pregnant. Left you to suffer alone…make bad choices…” Deon sighed and returned to his mother, pulling her into a tight hug, and the moment he did, she started to sob softly.

“We used to have money Deon, yes a lot of it, but I’m not blaming that on-“

“You don’t have to. I already do…” Deon said softly, patting his mother on the back gently before slowly pulling away.

“I’m going to go tuck Kallian in, and then you and I are going to have a big bowl of ice cream together and talk about the change that will be coming to this family.” He gently wiped his mother’s tears away and gave her a smile before leaving the kitchen to tend to his little sister.

---

Still leaning against the wall, Vander waited anxiously for the tremors to subside. They didn't. The shakes kept coming, no matter how she tried to force her muscles to relax. The world was spinning around her, and felt nauseous. Holding a hand in front of her, she watched it shake. She'd gone through withdrawals before...but this was the worst she had faced yet.

Vander moved closer to the window, almost reaching a hand out to steady herself against the frame, but catching herself at the last second when she saw the blurred outline of the broken glass. She dropped her hand, using the wall for support once again. Deon had been in there for at least a minute or two now... "Is there anyone there?" she asked, trying to see into the darkened room. The next question bore the weight of far more desperation. "Is there any Lucid?"

A far-off voice shook Deon back to reality, ignoring the dead bodies litering the floor and then started to walk around. Someone was going to pay for this. Still, he had a debt to pay. He pushed through until he found the back room where they usually kept their drugs when deals had been made, though Deon had never been back there before.

There was always someone to get the stuff for him, and now that he thought about it, there wasn't ever a time they didn't have what he asked of them...no matter how obscure the request.

When Deon stepped into the room...he realized why. His eyes grew wide as he marvled at the isles upon isles of stacked goods, mostly drugs from what he could see. Moving slowly through the area, he came upon a few boxed crates which he then pried open, finding an arsenel of weapons. Guns, knives, tasers...the works. It was clear to Deon right then what kind of men he had been making deals with now...these men owned the Black Market...or at least a portion of it.

He found his hand reaching for a semi-automatic pistol and felt the cool metalic grip in his hand, his other hand fondling the barrel of the gun in awe. He looked back behind him, wondering if Vander would even have the guts to come into the warehouse or not, but decided not to chance it. Whoever killed his guys...it wasn't about a robbery, otherwise this place would have been cleaned out. No, whatever this was, was personal, and he was going to find out just how personal.

He grabbed for a gun holster and strapped it around his waist, tucking the semi-automatic gun in the holster and then adjusted his shirt so that it was covering the whole thing. He then left the crate of weapons and persued looking for the lucid, it taking quite some time before he found a tiny unopened box of the stuff which he tucked under his arm and then left the back room, jumping back out the broken window he had come in. He tossed Vander the box. She fumbled, nearly dropping it due to how badly her body was shaking by this point, but managed to clutch the box tightly to her chest.

"There, should be enough to last you a month at least." He said, though his voice sounded unhappy about it. "You know that stuff will kill ya..." He then shrugged. "Just sayin. Anyway, you need a ride to wherever it is you go after you get your fix?"

Vander was barely paying attention to what he said. A month...she wouldn't need a month's supply, not at this rate. But it was comforting to know she held so much of the drug in her hands. She turned the box over in her hands, looking for a place to open it, muttering an answer to Deon as she did so. "Yeah, I know," she replied distractedly, still trying to find an opening in the crate. "I'll be gone before this supply is."

She handed the box back to Deon, evidently unaware of the potential shock value of what she had just said. It shook in her tremoring hands. She was so close to getting her fix, and she couldn't get the damn box open. "Can you open it? Please?" Vander asked him.

Deon kept his eyes fixed on her, but took the box as she had asked. Only...he didn't open it. "Let me give you a ride home first." He said. "I can't be involved with no cops again asking me about killing someone else if you decide to just die right now." His words were spoken truly, but his eyes...his golden yellow eyes held something in them that they hadn't in nearly a year. Concern.

She watched him for a half a second before her face twisted into a pained scowl. "If I die right now, it'll be your own fault for not opening the damn box," she told him, voice laced with an angry bitterness completely opposing her usually quieter tones.

Deon just laughed, obviously calling her bluff right away and with a blink, the look in his eyes was gone, replaced with a cold undertone that cast that particular darkness across his face once more.

She raised a hand, running it through her hair and forcing a painfully deep breath into her lungs. It made the muscles through her chest ache, and she gave a quiet noise of pain. "Fine," Vander agreed after a reluctant second, voice calmer once again. "Fine, just open it as soon as you drop me off. Zone 16. Apartment block B-121."

He nodded and mounted the motercycle once more, clutching the box tightly in his already injured and bloody hand, using the side of his bent leg to steady it and put his free hand on the handlebar, waiting for her to join him once again. She did so, walking over on legs that looked like they may give out at any second. When she climbed onto the back of the bike and wrapped her arms around his chest, her grip was even weaker than before.

Henry Jamison retreated back to his office after the night's events, and pressed a couple of buttons on his holo-communications device. There was a few seconds, if nothing before two figures appeared in the room with him. One was the Supreme Chief of Police, and another; a rather short woman with brown hair, styled into a small bun, and black, beady eyes. The President-to-be smiled at the two, who returned the smile, and clapped his hands together.

"You may be wondering why I called you both. But this is very important. Cheif, I need to know who were the suspects of the case I asked you to drop, please."

The Cheif nodded and dissapeared into thin air, popping back in with a beige folder. "The main suspects were as follows: James Jamison, Mason Jamison, Vander... P.. Py.. Vander P., and Deon Saunders."

Henry nodded and turned to the beady eyed woman. "Henrietta, I have a favor to ask of you. It is very important, and I need to make sure it is done."

"Certainly, Henry. Anything for an old friend."

"Good. I need you, as head of all the Hospitals of the Districts, to restrict Deon Saunders of any paternity tests. Period. Do whatever it takes to get that done. I know they haven't gotten any on the black market yet, I have my source who confirms this, so it is crucial he does not get one. I have background information on him, so I will be sending you files of accomplices, family members, you name it, so that they do not get any, either."

The woman was quiet for some time before nodding her head. "Understood, Henry. Will do. I will be awaiting the information, and the plan will go into effect, immediately. In fact, I'm having someone notify all the hospitals as we speak."

"Thank you. I appreciate it. You will be seing a raise in your salary, shortly. Take care." And with that, the two others dissapeared, and Henry poured himself a drink.

Saunders. It had been a while since he heard that name and saw that face....

[Collab post between YoshiSkittlez, Gonzo, and Mach2]

---

Deon found Vander's apartment block with no trouble, and after a few directions here and there, they were practically right outside her door. Deon kicked his bike stand up, letting it lean on the stick and dismounted the bike, though this time he turned and leant his free hand to help Vander down. She was getting worse every second, and it wasn't something that skipped his attention.

Once she was off of his bike, he glanced towards her house, a small pang of familiarity pushed at his memories, having once lived in a place like this, but the iron walls he had spent a year building around himself forced those thoughts away just as soon as they came.

"You live here alone?" He asked, still holding the small wooden crate of Lucid under his arm, which was now soaked in his own blood.

She nodded, making her way slowly and sorely towards the still-caved-in door of her apartment. "Yeah. Rent was covered until the end of last week, but there's something in the contract about having to wait two weeks before eviction," she muttered, trying and failing to remember the exact part of the apartment deal that covered eviction.

Vander turned to face Deon once more, leaning back against the door frame. "You dropped me off. Now open the box. Please open the box," she requested again, all but begging by this point.

Deon followed her to the entry-way, just making an "Uh-huh" noise when she talked about eviction. Not like it would matter, she was going to be dead in a month anyway. When she stopped to turn and face him at the doorway, he couldn't help but to look past her to the door that had been kicked in and now lay on the floor behind her. He raised an eyebrow, feeling the unproperly healed scar pull at his skin a bit but then rested his eyes back on her. He shrugged and set the box down on the ground between the two of them.

"You're gonna be dead before you can use this all right?" He asked.

He then stomped his boot down onto the crate, immediately rewarded by a series of cracking and splintering sounds. He stomped down again, this time the wood splitting clean open as well as breaking a good handful of the syringes inside, the Lucid now freely dripping onto the other syringes in the box.

"Not like you're gonna need all of them." He said with a shrug.

Vander had stopped listening. The second the box cracked open, she had knelt down to the ground beside the small crate. Partially to grab a syringe, and partially because her legs were threatening to refuse to hold her up for another second. It was more Lucid than she'd seen in her life. Even with the amount that lay in shattered shards of glass, it would last her as long as she needed it to.
She reached into the mess of crushed glass and splintered wood, selecting an intact hypodermic and frantically pulling the sleeve of her jacket up. The skin at the inside of her elbow was scarred, cut and butchered from previous attempts to inject herself with tremoring hands. No longer aware of Deon's presence, she held the syringe against her skin. The tip of the hypodermic tapped against her elbow a few times before slipping from her shaking fingers. Vander swore under her breath, reaching to pick it up again.

Deon hissed, seeing her roll up her sleeve and moved to swipe at her before realizing that she had already dropped the syringe on her own count.

"Are you fucking crazy?" He seethed. He quickly glanced around them, making sure no cops or anyone of the like was around. He grabbed the shattered box and the syringe she had dropped and pushed past her and into her house, finding her kitchen and set it on the table before going back to her, still holding the syringe in his hand, though this time he was on the inside of her house, and she was outside. "Get in here before someone sees you, dammit."

Grabbing onto the doorframe for aid, she stood up again and crossed into her mess of an apartment. "I'm sorry, I can't think," she apologized.

The words were distracted, her stare clearly fixated on the syringe of Lucid that Deon held. She took another clumsy step further into her apartment, and held her hand out for him to give the needle back to her.

Deon rolled his eyes and pocketed the syringe before taking a step closer to her and used both of his arms to pick her up, carrying her away from the open door and into the kitchen where there was at least a wall covering the entrance of her house. Only when they were completely out of sight from the entry-way did he set her down gently back onto the ground.

"Sit." He said taking the syringe back out of his pocket.

Vander was too tired, too irate, too desperate for a hit of Lucid, to even make a noise of protest as she was carried through her own home. She sank slowly into one of two old chairs, using the table for support. As soon as Deon took the syringe from his pocket once more, her attention was focused entirely on it. Again, she held out a shaking hand.

"Can you give me the syringe now?" she asked, her exhausted voice tinged with annoyance.

Deon sat down in the opposite chair and scooted it closer to her, shaking his head at her. "You obviously can't do it, so I'm doing it for you." He said gruffly and grabbed her wrist with his hand, pulling her arm out and extended it into his lap. He then moved his hand up her arm to around the thin bicep, holding her arm in place while he used his other hand to guide the needle towards its mark. The vein was easy enough to find since she was already so thin, and with a somewhat slow push, the liquid was released into her bloodstream at a steady speed until the syringe was completely empty. He pulled the needle out and got up from the chair, tossing the empty syringe into the box of other syringes. "Don't you dare move. I'm going to go fix your damn door." He said before leaving the kitchen entirely.

She closed her eyes, feeling the familiar sting of the needle piercing her skin. Only at the sound of the syringe clattering against its companions in the box did she open her eyes once more. "Thank you," Vander told him. It could have been thanks for either the door or for the shot of Lucid...but the heavy sincerity hinted that it was the latter.

She waited impatiently for the drug to take its effect. From the site of the injection, feeling slowly started to spread through her arm and up her shoulder. She could feel the cloth of her jacket's lining against her skin. Almost ritualistically, she closed her eyes for several seconds. Opening them, her kitchen seemed slightly more real. Vander repeated it, closing her eyes for a brief moment and them opening them again, several times. Each time, she was able to see the world with slightly more focus. Colours jumped out just a little more vibrantly.

But most importantly, the pain was fading away. The awful, nauseating, cramping in her stomach was leaving. She flexed her hands, rolled her shoulders, her slender muscles no longer protesting against the motion. She let herself take a slow, deep, breath of relief, and turned to look at the box on her counter. It was reassuring for Vander to know that she wasn't going to die of a withdrawal.

Deon didn't come back for a good twenty minutes, but when he did, he came back into the kitchen and went straight to the sink to wash his bloody arm. Vander might as well have not even been there the way he went on, almost ignoring her even. Once his arm was clean from blood, he made a fist and began pulling out what small shards of glass that he could, but most of them were embedded too deep. He finally turned to her.

"You got any tweezers?"

Vander nodded, standing up. She was steady on her feet now, walking quickly to the apartment's bathroom. It was a tiny space, barely big enough for the toilet, sink, and shower. Pulling open a drawer under the sink, she dug through an assortment of junk before finding the tweezers.

Thinking more clearly now, she turned the sink's tap on as hot as it would go, running the tweezers under the weak stream of water. Stray droplets burned at her fingertips as she washed the tweezers. She didn't care. It meant she could feel something.

A minute later, she returned to the kitchen and looked at Deon. She'd been unable to register the damage he'd done to his arm when they'd first arrived at the apartment. But now that she could see and think once more, she frowned in concern. "You should get stitches or something for that," Vander told him.

Deon gestured towards the scar on his head, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the warped skin that his body had created in attempt to heal itself.

"Never got stitches for this. I think I'll be fine."

She nodded towards the chair where she had previously been sitting. "I can help you get the glass out if you sit down."

He raised an eyebrow, tempted to dig his pinky into his ear and clean it out just to make sure he had heard her right. She wanted to help him?

"What do you want in return?" He asked skeptically.

"You fixed my door. We're even," Vander said with a shrug.

She sat down in the opposite chair, nodding again for Deon to sit. He hesitated, but eventually did so, sticking his hand out for her. Vander held the tweezers, her hands now impressively steady, and slowly pulled out a tiny shard of blood-stained glass. She let it drop onto the table, intending to clean the mess up later. Her gaze was focused, and the tiny pile of glass shards slowly grew.

As she worked, Deon's mind was lost in thought. He needed to get back to that warehouse before the cops started poking around. Those filty bastards would help themselves to what his guys had worked hard for, and he'd be out of supplies. If anyone knew who might have a personal vendetta against his boys, it would be his manager. He'd get in a call to him later though.

She set the tweezers down after a few minutes, gently lifting Deon's hand by the wrist and turning it over to look at it. "I think I got most of it...anything left in there will be too small to get with tweezers," she said, setting his hand back down. "But your body will force the glass out when the skin starts to heal."

Deon retracted his hand back to him and made a fist, watching a small amount of blood and puss drip out from the areas where the glass had been. He got up from the table without even so much as a 'thank you' and went back to the sink, washing his hand once again of the mess and then washed out her sink.

Vander stood again, pushing her chair back from the table and leaving the room once again. "Give me one second," she said as she left.

She retreated once more to the washroom, sifting through the drawers for an old First Aid kit she knew existed somewhere. It was disconcerting...offering help to the man who had, on two occasions now, practically forced her into sex. But at the same time, he had made sure she hadn't ended up collapsing down a back-alley somewhere in D-10, an unused hypodermic on the ground beside her. He'd brought her home and fixed her door. That had to count for something.

Finally retrieving the small box of gauze and bandages, Vander returned to the kitchen. "Hold out your hand again," she instructed Deon, opening the box and pulling out a package of gauze. "You're still bleeding."

Deon shot her a look, his cold eyes going from her to the gauze she held in her hand. Feeling his eyes roll slightly, he stuck out his hand for her and made a point to look somewhere else...anywhere else but her. Quite frankly...this was just embarassing. "I don't need you bleeding all over my kitchen," Vander told him as she pressed the gauze against his hand. She pulled a strip of white cloth from the box, and started wrapping it around his palm. "I do, sometimes, eat in here."

His solumn face broke into a bit of a grin at her mentioning getting blood all over her kitchen. He quickly looked around and saw that he had yet to get his blood anywhere aside from her kitchen sink.

"Does that mean you're asking me to stay?" He teased.

It was only as she mentioned eating that she realized the ache in her stomach still hadn't entirely subsided. But it wasn't a nauseated feeling...it was hunger. As she wrapped Deon's hand, she tried to think back to what she had eaten recently. Two bites of toast. Alcohol the night before. And nothing the day before that. She tied the cloth off in a secure knot, perhaps a bit tighter than was necessary, and narrowed her eyes at his teasing comment.

"Stay if you want. I'm not feeding you, though...I don't even know what I've got here," she answered, walking past him to open a cupboard. Peering inside, she saw nothing but a stale box of cereal.

Deon took his hand back from her for a second time and examined the workmanship of the bandage, two raised eyebrows indicating that he was somewhat impressed with what she had done.

"How about I feed us both then? You like pizza?" He asked, turning his attention back to her.

She closed the cupboard, looking at Deon uncertainly. After a few seconds, she replied with a reluctant, "Sure," unable to suppress a stab of guilt. Hadn't James and Mason attempted to do the exact same thing earlier that same day? And she had returned them by attempting to walk out of the restaurant only minutes after their food had arrived.

Deon pulled out his headset he had stuffed into his pocket earlier and popped it into his ear, dialing one of his favorite pizza joints and put in an order for four different pizzas with cheesy breadsticks, a couple litres of different soda and a tub of cookie dough. Remembering the address from when she had given it to him earlier, he gave the delivery man the same address and his credits information before hanging up and stuffing the headset back into his pocket.

Vander raised an eyebrow at the massive order. "You'd better be planning on eating most of that," she told him, trying to envision how the food would even fit on her tiny table.

Speaking of the table...she grabbed a dirty cloth from beside the sink, running it under the tap. For all she'd chastised Deon about getting blood on things, the kitchen was a mess regardless, matching the rest of her apartment. She moved to the table, picking up the bloodied glass shards in the cloth and wiping it to a state of relative cleanliness. Rather than bothering to rinse out glass and blood from the cloth, Vander threw the entire mess into a mostly-empty trash can in the corner. She had other cloths.

Sitting back down at the table, she looked awkwardly at Deon. Small-talk wasn't something she'd had to fall back on in a while, but she had once been good at carrying on a conversation. And she refused to pass the time waiting for the pizza by sitting in silence. After a second, her gaze settled again on the scar intersecting his eyebrow and forehead. "How'd you get that?" she asked, tracing the same spot on her own eyebrow. "The scar that healed just fine without stitches?"

His eyes shot up at her, she didn't need to gesture on her own forehead to know what she was talking about. If at all possible, his eyes grew darker but he was no longer looking at her, rather, a spot on the now clean table seeming to stare off into his own thoughts. He was silent for a while, hearing his heartbeat race, pulsing even into his ears as he felt his fists clench tightly before he caught himself and let out a sigh and looked back to her.

"Your dead in a month right?" He asked, awaiting confirmation.

She frowned, but nodded a yes. "If that."

"And you're not coming back?" He had to be sure.

"That's usually how it works," she replied, slightly bitter. She held up her hands, signalling that she would back off. "If it's a touchy subject, you don't have to share."

His eyes looked back to the spot on the table, seeming to be thinking hard on something before he got up from the chair. "You got a couch? Its...kind of a long story so you should probably get comfortable."

She mirrored his action, standing from her own chair and heading towards the main area of her apartment. "My couch hardly qualifies as comfortable. But yeah."

It was tiny, functioning as both living room and bedroom, her unmade bed occupying the corner. There was indeed a couch, pressed up against the opposite wall. It was second-hand, maybe even third or fourth-hand, and the fabric was torn in numerous places. She walked over to it, sitting at the edge and leaving plenty of room for Deon.

He followed Vander into the tiny room and found himself looking around the room with a slight...adoration, but with it came a pain that pressed down so hard on his heart, he was sure it was about to be crushed into tiny pieces. He tiredly ran his hand over his face and took a seat on the couch next to her, still looking around the room, picturing his own little pathetic excuse of a room he had shared with his little sister for eight years. At the time he was ready to get his own damn room, but now...those were the fondest memories he held. He had almost forgotten he still had those memories, he hadn't reached them in quite some time.

"About a year ago," He started. "I had just started to work at The Spit as a cage fighter. I didn't really know what I was doing then so I lost quite a lot and wasn't bringing in a whole lot of money. A man approached me, wanted to be my agent. Said I had a fight coming up that I was sure to lose but he had...a way for me to win, so I took it; I needed the money. My family needed the money..." He paused and turned to look at her for a moment before continuing.

Vander listened silently, her jaw clenched. So far, she could empathize. Deon fought for the same reason she had gotten into the drug business.

"After that fight I became what you know as The Crusher, and I haven't lost a fight since. Well...not in the ring anyway...

See, the guy I fought that night figured out that I had rigged the match somehow, and he came looking for me once he got out of the hospital. The thing was, he found me, and neither of us were in The Spit, and I wasn't ready for him..."

She raised an eyebrow, trying to predict the outcome of the story. "So...what? You got beat? Some guy came after you and you actually lost a fight?" her voice was once again laced with the slightest edge of bitterness. Was he really so proudly arrogant that he wouldn't admit to losing unless he knew she was going to die before she could tell anyone else?

There was no smirk, no scoff, nothing. He just stared at her blankly, almost as if he were looking through her.

"If that were all I lost that night-" He said softly. "Then maybe this wouldn't be so hard to say." He swallowed hard, and continued on, but now looking away from her.

"He caught me when I was leaving my house, but he didn't make himself known until I was a few blocks from my place. He waited until I took a turn in my usual midnight walk to the liquor store that led me straight through a back alley before he jumped me. I was so caught off guard, I didn't even have a chance to fight back. The next thing I knew, I was on my back, screaming out for anyone to hear me as I watched him take out a knife, and plunged it into my skull.

"Lets see how thick'a'head you really got." He said, and slid the knife down." Deon gestured with his hand the motion of the scar, starting from the back of his head all the way down to his eyebrow.

"He only got about halfway before I blacked out. At least thats when I think I blacked out, the details are kind of fuzzy after that. But when I woke up, drenched in the pouring rain and my own blood, I forced myself to my feet. I knew that if this guy was patient enough to stalk me for days to figure out my routine, then he must of known where I lived. It was sheer will that got me home that night, but I wish I would have just died in the street...I wish he would have just stabbed my heart and ended it all right then and there..." Deon choked on his words and closed his eyes for a moment, taking a second to just breathe.

Vander stayed silent, instantly regretting her previous assumption. Deon's words bore the weight of a story that had been suppressed for too long. Something that had been reflected on, reminisced about, but never ever spoken aloud. It was bigger than losing a fight and bearing the scar. She watched him, patiently allowing him the chance to regain his composure before he continued on.

"They were dead when I got home. Both of them. My mom, splayed out naked on the living room floor with the top part of her head completely removed with a knife. And then...and then I found my eight-year-old sister in her room, under the covers of her bed that were drenched in her blood. I counted. She had seventy-six different stab wounds on her body, all driven in through her as she hid underneath her blankets from him..."
He kept his eyes closed, afraid that if he were to open them again that tears would start to fall, and the indication of his shaky voice throughout the last bit was a dead-on sign that he was getting ready to do just that.

Thankfully...the doorbell rang, the pizza had arrived.

---

An hour.

That was how long James had slept before he was jolted awake by his own brain. As soon as his eyes opened, any indication of tiredness was gone. He felt awake, more awake than he had probaly ever felt in his entire lifetime. Something kept tugging at him to get up out of bed, an when he did, something kept tugging at him to walk to the pile of clothes that he had taken off right before going to bed. After stopping in front of them, he stared at them for a good couple of minutes before picking them up and putting them on. Again, something tugged at him to reach into his pocket, and so he did. He felt around and stopped when his index finger brushed against a small, hard object.

Once he pulled the small, green object out, the memories from only hours before came rushing back. His headache started up again, and something kept telling him to pop it in his mouth. What's the worst thing that could happen, James? He took the candy and popped it into his mouth. It dissolved in seconds.

The next thing James knew, he was at his computer. Something kept telling him to find Vander. He needed to speak to her, but he didnt know where she lived. Somewhere in District 16, that was all he knew. His eyes moved back and forth across the screen at light speed. In a matter of seconds, he was able to hack into the unhackable firewalls of the Ancora government, and moments later, he was surfing the Ancora registery for Vander.

He took only a mere half a second, if that, on each name, but that was all it took. In ten seconds, he was able to name about twenty people or so by their full name, give their correct address, and date of birth. It only took about a minute, and then he stopped. There was Vander. It had her Address, as well.

District 16. Apartment Block B-121. He didnt even need a pen or paper to remember the address. Moments later, he had sent the trace somewhere else, to some unlucky person, in order to cover his trail, and pulled up a map. He looked up the directions to find out how to get to the apartment, and again memorized those in a second. Minutes later, he was out the door.

****

The place wasnt what anyone would call luxurious, but it was home to someone, so James couldnt really judge. All that mattered was that Vander lived in that appartment, and he needed to see if she was okay or not. He marched right up to the door and rang the doorbell once, twice, three times. He mentally cursed himself right after.

He should have brought flowers.

Grateful for the distraction, Deon got up from the couch and found his way through the small house to the door that he felt like he had just fixed. On the short walk to the door, he had managed to compose himself once again. No sense looking like he was just crying to the pizza guy. He opened the door, and felt his jaw drop slightly.

"James Jamison...huh...I think you're in the wrong district rich-boy."

Vander stayed seated on the couch, also grateful for the timing of the doorbell. She stared at her hands, trying to digest everything Deon had said. Trying to envision the things he had been forced to see. She had no siblings, and her mother was long-gone...but her mind instantly went to her father, living elsewhere in District 16, with no idea where his daughter was. Imagining anything like what had happened to Deon's family happening to him was...painful, even to think about.

She was distracted by the sound of Deon's voice, saying James's name. Her gaze snapped up, looking wide-eyed at the door. At any other moment, she might have been glad to see him. But not now. Not with Deon in her apartment.

So I was just in the neighborhood and figured I would stop by and see how you were doing.. No. That doesnt sound right. The fuck would you be doing in here, besides looking for her you idiot?

James turned around, away from the door. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he just needed to go home. There had to be some reason why she had left in such a rush. Maybe she hadn't fed an animal or something.

"James Jamison...huh...I think you're in the wrong district rich-boy."

In his self chastizement, he didnt hear the door open. But the voice that he recognized to be The Crusher's made him stop. No no no no no.... He turned around slowly and locked eyes on the man he had fought the night before. He was silent, and didn't return the greeting. Instead, he just stared at the man in amazement.

"What... What are you doing here?"

A small smirk curled at Deon's lip as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Tired of playing second best Jamie? Face it, she's not into you like she is to me. Actually...it would be more appropriate if I said that I was into her."

Deon's comment was met with a swift jab to his jaw, followed by another straight to his chest. James' eyes were on fire with anger. How dare that lowlife peice of shit call himself better than him.

James smirked and jumped back quickly, just in case Deon was ready to throw a punch at him.

"You want to dance, then let's dance, ass hole!"

Vander was standing the second the first punch was thrown. She crossed the living room, but kept her distance, scared to get too close. If a fight was to break out in her apartment, there was little she could do to intervene. If she tried to break it up, a wayward punch from either of them would be more than enough to drop her, and possibly do serious damage.

Deon's head swung to the side as James clipped his jaw. He put his hand to the now sore spot and rubbed at his chin a bit before craning his neck left and right, rewarded by two cracks in his neck.

"Alright, but keep daddy-dearest out of it this time aye?" He mocked and threw his first punch to James' gut in an upper-cut.

It was as if time slowed down when Deon sent his fist sailing through the air. James stared at it a mere tenth of a second and could tell where it was heading, and just how to counter it. With lighting speed that even surprised James a little, he moved to the side enough so that Deon's arm went in front of his. When the opportunity arose for a counter, he took it.

The man grabbed Deon's forearm and pulled him forward just a bit to disorient him, then sent two quick jabs to the jaw, jumping back again to stay out of the fighter's way.
"Oh come on, now," James taunted with a smirk, "don't tell me that you only know how to fight in the ring. Too bad your little groupies aren't here to see this. They'd probably have something else to laugh at, other than your small dick!"

The two quick jabs to the jaw sent Deon's head spinning a bit, and watching James bouncing around avoiding him like a little bunny-rabbit made him grit and bare his teeth angrily. He was completely clean of any intoxiation of any kind right now, and the drug introduced to him by his agent he always took before his ring fights had cleared out of his system long ago, it had been nearly a year since he had fought without it. He rotated his right shoulder, trying to get the blood flowing better. That had to be his problem right? He didn't rely that much on the drug Rage did he?

"Why don't you ask Vander about my small dick? Cuz I'm pretty sure I practically tore her open again a few hours ago." He smirked and closed the distance between them, once again throwing his punch but this time aiming for the prick's face.

He could tell as soon as the fist started flying that it was a face shot. He managed to keep himself calm and composed, no doubt thanks to It. Again taking only a tenth of a second to calculate where the fist was going to go, he smiled and let the fist come closer, closer...

Then he moved, ducking down just slightly so that the fist missed him, and sent a series of jabs from his stomach, all the way to Deon's neck. But instead of punching in his Adam's Apple, he hit it with an open palm hard enough to disorient him and send him backwards just a couple of steps, just enough to allow a kick straight into the lowlife's family jewels.

"Guess you wont be doing much with those for a while, eh?" James asked with an innocent smile. "Want me to get you some ice?"

Vander took her opportunity to intervene. The second Deon staggered back and James's foot went for his crotch, she figured it would drop him. Wordlessly, she walked over to James and grabbed his arm tightly, leading him towards her tiny kitchen. "What are you doing here?" she asked once they were out of the living room.

In her hurry to separate Deon and James, she had forgotten entirely about the broken crate of Lucid that still rested on her kitchen counter. Her gaze fell on it now, and her stomach sank in a panic. She moved to stand in front of it, blocking it from James's view though it was probably already too late. "I'm sorry...this looks really bad, but it's honestly not what you think," she told him nervously.

As expected, Deon fell to his knees, both hands shooting to his crotch, as if that would numb the pain. It didn't. He watched with tears in his eyes as Vander practically pulled James inside, his pained expression turning into a scowl.

As James was led into the kitchen, the smug smile never lef his face. Once inside, James took a seat on one of the small chairs. It didnt feel right. He looked down and saw that he was an eighth of a millimeter off from being centered in the seat, so he took the next ten seconds moving side to side until he was centered.

Once situated, he looked up to see the broken crate of Lucid. His mind went into overdrive. Everything became clear as day. The tapping, the quick leave back to District 16, it was all because of Lucid. James shook his head as Vander tried to explain and lifted up a hand to stop her.

"Save it. Just tell me one thing. How much longer?"

She hesitated to answer. Telling Deon how much longer she had was one thing. She barely cared what he thought about her. But telling James...she found it immensely more difficult. For several moments, the words wouldn't come. Finally, she shrugged, looking to the ground. "I don't know," she replied honestly, her voice quiet. "A month. Probably...probably less..."

Deon made his way back into the kitchen, one hand trying to adjust himself still from the damage James had done while the other rested at his hip where he kept his gun. His finger itched for it...itched to put a bullet through James' brain right then and there. Maybe somehow that would ease his pain...

Instead, he walked to the counter and hoisted himself up onto it, letting his legs dangle above the floor.

"Not even your rich ass can do anything to stop it."

James snapped his head over to Deon and he flipped him the middle finger.

"Hey, fuck ball, shut up before I smash your head on the counter, then make you clean up the mess, after."

Softening his gaze a little, he turned back to Vander. He stood slowly and made his way to the counter to where the empty crate of Lucid was. He reached in and took up one of the syringes. He looked to Vander, then to Deon, then threw down the syringe. It crashed against the ground, shattering into pieces of glass and metal, the liquid drug splattering across the tiled floor.

Vander stepped forward quickly, looking panicked. "Don't do that!" she ordered James desperately, stepping in between him and the crate of Lucid. "I need those..."

"Yeah dude, what's your problem?" Deon asked with a bit of a smirk, the tone in his voice indicating that he didn't really care. It was just fun to put James in a situation that could potentially turn Vander against him. And if he kept it up, it would turn into just that. He hopped off of the counter and went to Vander, putting a hand on her tiny shoulder. "You want me to stash them somewhere where he can't get to them?" He asked, his cold eyes darting in James' direction, his lip curled into a smile. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Vander shrugged her shoulder violently, pushing Deon's hand off with her own. "Don't touch me," she said viciously. Despite the highly personal story he had shared only minutes earlier, she was not in the mood for his antics right now.

James' hand curled into a fist as Deon spoke. He took a step forward, but stopped when Vander shrugged off Deon's shoulder. That was a good sign. His eyes darted down slightly, and noticed a small bulge at Deon's waist.

"Vander, if you are going to trust someone to hide something from you, at least trust someone who can actually hide his gun."

Deon's hand shot to his hip, pulling the gun from the holster and pointed the barrel directly at James.

"Fuck you man, what makes you think I was trying to hide it?" He hissed, his thumb moving to cock the loaded gun.

James closed the gap in between both him and Deon, and stepped forwards so that the barrel of the gun was against his forehead. Maybe it was It, or maybe it was just plain stupidity, but James knew in the back of his mind that if he timed things right, he would be able to dodge the bullet.

"Go ahead, you fuck ball. Pull the trigger if you think you're so god damned tough. Just know that if you dont kill me, I'll have you needing a wheelchair to get around instead of that stupid bike you have out front."

Vander's eyes went wide as she saw the gun, frozen for a moment before she could move again. Her jaw clenched angrily, and she moved quickly to try to occupy the space between the two of them, facing Deon. "You're not shooting anyone, this is my apartment," she hissed, placing a hand on each of their chests and trying to push the two apart.

Deon snarled, but lowered the gun and put it back in it's holster on his hip.

"You're not worth a bullet anyway." Deon muttered to James quietly.

With an exhale of relief, Vander dropped her hands. She looked from James to Deon, and narrowed her eyes at the latter. "Don't you dare take that out again until you leave."
The last thing she needed was a dead body in her apartment. It was risky enough that she was forced to harbour a full crate of Lucid, she didn't need any more reason for the cops to come knocking. And if it was James that ended up dead, she would be unable to handle the guilt. Not to mention, she would be unable to force Deon out of her apartment on her own.

Deon looked to Vander, his eyes softening slightly. It was as if some prior connection had been made with her, with his own story having been laid out for her in a vulnerable moment, he had just hoped she might understand, and maybe...and maybe even be able to relate to his anger.

There was a soft rap at the door, and Deon's attention turned back to James, his eyes hardening once more.

"That would be the pizza guy. Believe it or not, Vander and I were actually going to have a lovely, quiet dinner together before you brought your smug ass over here. So say what it is you came to say, and then leave us be." He said before pushing past James, running his shoulder into him harshly and went to go answer the door.

Once Deon had left the room, James looked at Vander and sighed. A quiet dinner. Then what? Shooting up together? Sleeping together? The thought made his stomach churn. He checked his watch, it had only been an hour, if that, so that gave him plenty of time to probably kick Deon's ass once more for good measure before he left.

"I had just come by to check up on you. To see how you were doing since you left," he mumbled. "But I can see that you were doing just fine. Didn't know you and him were a thing. Anyways, now that I know that you're okay, I'll be on my way."
James extended his hand. "It was nice meeting you. Really, it was."

She stared at his hand, glanced back over her shoulder to make sure that Deon was still preoccupied with the door in the other room. She spoke quickly, keeping her voice low, and trying to say as much as she could before he got back.

"We're not a thing," she started, saying the word with extreme distaste. "I got back to my apartment this morning, and the door was busted down. Someone broke in, and my Lucid was gone."

She shook her head, gaze falling once more to the ground. "You saw how bad I was at the restaurant...I was worse when I got here. I thought Deon had taken them, so I went back to The Spit..."

Guilt clawed at her, making her stomach twist. She raised her gaze again, forcing herself to look James in the eye. "I didn't want to have anything to do with him anymore. But I...you can't go through two day-long withdrawals in a row, James, that's asking to die. I could hardly even stand up anymore by the time he got me that crate. I couldn't even hold a needle of Lucid. He's only here because I would have dropped dead in an alleyway somewhere if he didn't drive me home."

She kept her eyes focused on his, praying that he would understand.

James stared at Vander for a long time, letting the silence, save the conversation between the pizza guy and the lowlife, fall between them. Thanks to It, he was able to tell that she was, in fact, telling the truth. James lowered his hand and sighed once.
"Fine. I believe you. But, as long as he stays, I stay, so hopefully you bought enough food to share."

She nodded, looking grateful. Now that James was here, and especially after the fight he'd had with Deon minutes prior, she didn't want him to leave. She didn't want to have to face another conversation with only Deon. "There's plenty of food. I don't eat a lot," she answered.

"Not for him." Deon said coming back into the kitchen, the buffet of food being balanced carefully in his hands, the pizza's stacked with the cheesy bread on top and the cookie dough on top of that. He had even somehow managed to grip onto both litres of soda with his one hand. "I bought this for a starving, yet still very beautiful woman..." He said and shot James an arrogant smile. "Not for unexpected guests."

Deon looked at the table where the box of Lucid still was, there would be no room at all for the food, so he just continued on walking to the combined livingroom/bedroom that he and Vander were in before and laid it out in front of the couch and took up his seat where he had been before and began to eat.

Vander frowned, reluctantly following Deon out into the living room. "This is more food than I'd eat in a week," she muttered, sitting down hesitantly at the opposite end of the couch. "And he's a guest in my place, not yours..."

Nevertheless, she was hungry, and unable to remember the last time she'd eaten anything substantial. She grabbed a piece of cheese bread and took a bite. With Lucid running through her veins, she could taste every subtle nuance of the flavour. The taste didn't nauseate her. Food actually tasted good for the first time in a while.

"You could stand a few left-overs. I saw that spider eyeing that box of stale cereal you had." Deon teased.

James walked in with Vander and walked to the pizza box, staring Deon as he took a couple of slices. Folding them both over, he took a bite and smiled. Just like Lucid, It gave James the ablilty to taste each element of the pizza seperately.

He finished the slices of pizza in seconds, then proceeded to sit on one of the arms of the couch.

"Hey Fuck ball, you did good. Haven't had this good of a pizza in a while."

Deon's eyes narrowed, watching James help himself to the pizza, but made no move to stop him. Instead, he kept his eyes on him the whole time, and then followed him with them to the arm of the couch.

"So what, you expecting a kiss now? Fuck off."

James just looked up at Deon with a small smirk, he reached down and picked up a breadstick and took a bite.

"Nah, I'm not looking for a kiss. But you can sure as Hell suck my dick."

"Why don't you just bend over like a bitch and just take it?"

"Oh, so you are gay. Things make so much sense now. Well, I appreciate the offer, but I will have to decline."

"Why don't you go ask daddy-dearest how many women he's knocked up? The number might shock you."

"Well, we all know that he wouldn't have wasted his time with your trailer trash mom."

Vander gave a frustrated sigh, swallowing her mouthful of cheese bread. "You two sound like twelve-year olds," she told them, slightly angry. "Cut it out."

She took another bite of cheese bread, looking away, and doubting her words would have any affect on the situation. As long as they kept it away from fists, she could tolerate the bickering.

With a movement so fast that it was only a blur to the two of them, Deon had vaulted himself off of the couch, over Vander and knocked James off of the arm chair and onto the floor, pinning him down and smashed his fist into his face.

"Insult my mother one more time, I dare you." Deon growled, drawing his fist back for another punch.

Deon moved so quickly, it was impossible for his brain to register the lumbering figure coming at him, nor was he able to dodge the fist to his face. However, when Deon's fist went up again, he took the opportunity. His knee went for Deon's jewels again, and his fist went for his face. The fist was just a distraction, he was able to calculate just where Deon's body was going to be as soon as the fist connected with his face, and when Deon moved back, James reached for the waist and pulled out the gun, pushing it flush against Deon's stomach.

"Get up. Now."

Deon's knees reacted quickly, able to cover his balls from the blow this time but wasn't able to stop the punch to the face. He blinked, but that was the only indication that he had even been punched at. He showed no pain on his face, only the anger that pushed the veins in his neck to the surface. Though once he felt the cold metal pressed to his gut, he just laughed.

"You can go to Hell." He said and spit a glob of blood onto James' face before rolling off of his pinned position and onto the floor on his back, much like how a dog would when it wanted its belly rubbed. "Do it. You'd be doing me a favor."

Vander was on her feet in an instant, though not quickly enough to stop the brief altercation between James and Deon. She scowled, growing more and more pissed at both of them by the second. Without hesitation, she reached out, slender fingers wrapping around the barrel of the gun, her palm covering the opening. "Give me this. Now," she ordered James angrily.

James looked at Vander with slight disbelief and rolled his eyes. He wiped his face of the blood and then let go of the gun, but not before slamming his heel so hard into Deon's ribs, cracking could be heard.

"That's for last night, by the way."

Deon wheezed out a laugh, followed by a slight coughing attack as his hands shot to his ribcage where he felt the damage. At least three of his ribs had been cracked, the all-too-familair shooting pain that now went through him forced his forehead to start and sweat.

"Is this how you treat all your brothers?" He asked, wheezing again as he moved to try and sit up.

Vander took the gun, retreating to the bed in the corner of the room and lifting the mattress up. She stuffed the gun underneath. If either of them felt the need to go for the weapon, they wouldn't be able to get at it quickly.

The word 'brothers' caught her attention, and she turned to look at Deon. "The hell are you on about?" she asked, clearly getting sick of the two fighting.

"Yeah, what the fuck are you talking about? I only have one. What, did the kick to your balls rattle the tiny pea brain you have down there?"

Deon just smiled, trying to push himself up into a sitting position but when more bone-cracking noises came from his ribs, he just rested his head on the edge of the bottom of the couch. "One...ngnnn....full brother." Deon said, pushing through the pain. "Go ask your father about my mother, Riley Saunders, see what kind of reaction you get."

"I am not asking my father about anyone. Especially not your deadbeat mom. I have one brother, and that's it."

Deon laughed. "She told me...the night before she was murdered." He paused to breathe heavily, still clutching harshly to his side. "We were about to move up into a better District with all the money I was making. She was worried that some things might come up, so she made me promise not to go anywhere near dear ol Mr. Jamison...it would ruin his reputation see? And she didn't want that. In the end...I think she actually loved him more than she did me." He shook his head. "Not that I could blame her. I was the product of a bastard father."

Another fist struck Deon across the jaw. Then another, then another.

"Dont you talk about my father that way! You dont know him! He is a good man!"

"Stop it!" Vander yelled at James.

She grabbed his arm mid-punch, both of her hands wrapping around his forearm and trying to hold him off of Deon.

Deon took one hit after another, blood starting to pour from his nose, eyebrow and lip.
"OUR father." Deon corrected him. "He's a slimy bag of shit, knocked up my mother and got scared. Left her to do things on her own, cut ties with her so she couldn't find him. Face it James. Our father is a coward."

"You have no father, you son of a bitch. You're a bastard. I swear to God, if Vander wasn't here, I would have killed you a long time ago."

"I am here," Vander said, still holding James's arm tightly, worried he would start punching again at a moment's notice. "Listen, both of you. If you don't quit trying to beat the shit out of each other, I'm going to sit you on opposite sides of the room and make you talk it out."

"I'm not the one in denial." Deon said quietly, again attempting to try and sit up but now with the combined pain in his side and the blood pouring into his eye, there was no way he could do it on his own.

James shook his arm free from Vander's grip and reached it out for Deon to grab onto.
"Here. Grab on and get up. Or I can keep beating you, if you would like."

Vander stood, backing off from the two of them and retreating a few steps. She watched James and Deon warily, ready to intervene again if they should start fighting.

Deon swatted at James' arm with is free hand, unable to really see much of anything right now before he grabbed James' hand. "Had to make sure I knew what it was you wanted me to grab." He jested and let James help him pull himself to his feet. There were a few more bone-crunching noises as Deon got up, and so he succumbed to sitting back down on the couch, using the sleeve of his green t-shirt to wipe the mass amount of blood from his face.

Cringing visibly at the sound of Deon's ribs crunching, Vander retreated once more to the kitchen, intending to grab a cloth for him to properly wipe away the blood. There was little she could do for broken ribs, though.

She frowned as she pulled a cloth from a drawer and ran it under the tap. How many times had she mediated drug trades over the past few years? Never before had she had a deal turn bad. And yet now, she couldn't even keep two men in her apartment from beating each other to a pulp.

She returned to the living room, offering Deon the damp cloth, and giving James a look of wary disapproval.

Deon took the cloth and started patting at his slowly bruising eye, rubbing the blood from his split eyebrow and shot James the same kind of look Vander had, mixed in with a look that said you're not wanted here.

James rubbed his hand over his slowly bruising knuckles. He could feel the headache coming, which meant that the drug was starting to wear off. He needed to go before he got lost in District 16. James turned to Vander and gave her a small nod.
"I think I should be going. Thank you for the food. It was nice seeing you again, Vander." And with that, James turned and walked out of the living room and out the front door, now on his way hastily to District 1.

Deon scoffed. "Fuckin pussy." He mumbled, watching James go.

Vander sat back down, sighing as James left. She muttered a quiet goodbye as he left. Once again, she was left alone with Deon in her apartment. And this time, she had no idea what to say. Wordlessly, she picked up her unfinished cheese bread and took a bite.

---

James entered his apartment and walked in slowly. His head was throbbing. He looked around and found that his brother was still asleep. That was good, he didn't need to know. He made his way slowly to his room and shut the door behind him.

After pressing a couple of buttons on the holo-communicator, and waiting a minute, his father appeared before him, a big smile on his face. James didn't look as pleased.

"Hey there son! How are you to-"

"Tell me about Riley Saunders."

Collaboration between Mach2 and YoshiSkittlez

---

Only when James was completely gone and out of the house did Deon feel like he could relax again. He sunk his back against the arm of the couch and leaned his now clean of blood face back, feeling the blood rushing to his head. He continued to hold onto the rag, however, in case any sort of movement he made with his face cracked open the fresh scabs. He raised his head back up, feeling the rush of blood drain back down into his body before he looked to Vander.

"Thanks." He muttered and gestured towards the bloody rag he was holding. The word seemed...almost foreign to him, the same tickling feeling came to his lips as a child would experience after using their first swear word.

Vander nodded an acknowledgement to his thanks, not yet able to force herself to meet his gaze. There was a small part of her that wanted to tell him to follow James out the door, and leave her apartment. There was a part of her that just wanted to be alone and think. But she wasn't about to do that, not when it was at least partially her fault his face was bleeding and his ribs were cracked.

"How are your ribs?" she asked, knowing the answer. She knew basic first aid for cuts and scrapes, but had little knowledge of how to handle broken ribs.
Deon shrugged. "Well usually I let them marinate in a goopy sauce over night like everyone else, but I do have a few special seasonings I add while I'm grilling." Deon joked and tried to laugh, though was forced into a coughing fit as he did so.

The joke didn't even get so much as a smile from Vander. Instead, her expression filled with concern. After a second of hesitation, she stood up, crossing over to Deon and placing a hand on his shoulder while she waited for him to stop coughing. "Should I call a doctor or something?"

He shook his head no. "The second you give them my name, they'll laugh and hang up on you." He said once his coughing had ceased. "I'll be fine, I go through something like this on a weekly basis." He said trying to assure her. "But...thank you..." He said, feeling that weird tingle again.

"All right..." Vander said. She sat down on the couch beside him, staring down at her hands. "You can stay here if you want tonight. The couch isn't comfortable...but I feel like biking home with broken ribs wouldn't be too fun either." She made the offer hesitantly, keeping as much emotion out of her voice as she could. The last thing she needed was for him to get the wrong idea.

Deon didn't answer right away. His lip had cracked back open from talking and he was busy patting away the blood into the cloth. "Yeah, yeah that wouldn't feel too great." He agreed. He had used up all his 'thank you's' for the night. Hell...even the rest of the month. "If you don't mind." He added. He didn't find her couch to be as uncomfortable as she had made it out to be...he had slept on worse. "I'll be out of your hair tomorrow, and you've got enough Lucid to last you for the rest of your life...so it looks like you lucked out because after tomorrow, you don't ever have to come see me again...not if you don't wanna."

She nodded in agreement, her face expressionless. After tomorrow morning, there would be no more Deon in her life. Standing from the couch, she walked to the open closet and grabbed an over sized raglan sweater from the floor, as well as an old pair of sweat pants.

Without another word to him, Vander entered the washroom to get changed for bed. She pulled the shirt James had bought her out of the pocket of her jacket, hanging it carefully over the towel rack, and pulled off her clothes. Catching sight of her reflection in the dirty mirror, she couldn't help but to cringe. Bruises still lined her back from last night in the alleyway. With the aid of Lucid, she could see each one depicted in exquisite detail. With a quiet sigh, she pulled on the sweater and pants. Even if Deon would be gone, she would have those bruises for most of what remained of her life. It wasn't a thought she wanted to entertain. When Deon left tomorrow, he would be gone. That was all she let herself think right now.

Deon watched her go to what he had to assume was the bathroom, no doubt to change or to even take a shower. He felt his body itching to get up off of the couch and follow her, to catch her naked or something and then make a moment out of it...but there was something else pressing against his thoughts, something...uncomfortable...but it was enough to keep him on the couch. The poor girl was going through enough, the last thing she needed was him hounding on her again. He winced. When the hell did he start caring? He shut his eyes and laid his head back down on the couch. James must have hit him harder than he thought.

Leaving the bathroom again, she walked past Deon to sit on the edge of her bed...right on top of a hard lump beneath the mattress. With a small frown, she stood, reaching under the mattress to grab the gun she had stored there earlier. "This is yours," she said, walking back to the couch to hand the weapon back to Deon.

Opening his eyes back up, but not sitting up, Deon watched as Vander left the bathroom in what he assumed was more comfortable clothes for her. He continued to watch her wordlessly as she then brought the gun back to him, and it was then that he moved to sit up with a painful series of grunts. He took the gun from her gently. "I want to show you something..." He said and then opened up the clip and tipped the gun upside down. No bullets fell from the gun. He then handed it back to her for her to look at herself. "It was never loaded. I picked it up at the warehouse when I got you your Lucid. Didn't even stop to think that I would need bullets for it." He said. "I may come across as an angry person...ruthless sometimes even...but I would never kill someone. I...I just want you to know that. I wasn't going to shoot James either."

Vander turned the weapon over in her hands, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief, confusion, and relief. She chewed silently at her lip for a moment, unable to respond. When Deon had pulled the gun out on James, she had been terrified. For everything Deon had done wrong, this was a complete change of heart. Setting the useless firearm down on the ground, she shook her head at him.

"Why can't you act like a human being all the time?"

Deon sighed. He already knew his answer, but explaining it to someone else was something completely different. It took quite some time for his own mother to even understand it...before she had died.

"When I'm the Crusher...people expect a show. They want to see blood, broken bones, harsh words...when I first became the Crusher, it was hard to submerge myself into that kind of lifestyle, the only thing I had ever hurt before were cows when I worked at the slaughterhouse. But when I finally got the Crusher's personality down, it stuck hard after..." He couldn't bring himself to say it. "...you know. And even now...it's...difficult to put The Crusher away and become just Deon again. I...I don't even know who Deon is anymore..."

Vander nodded, finally able to understand. Everything Deon was when he was around others was an act, a role he had assumed so deeply, it became his reality. The fact that he had dropped that shell, shown his old personality when he as around her...she didn't know how she felt about that. Some mixture of uneasiness and gratitude.
"Well, Deon is a lot easier to talk to than the Crusher is," she acknowledged simply. She offered him the slightest of smiles, too emotionally drained after the stressful events of that day to be able to give anything more.

A slight chuckle came from Deon's throat. "Believe me, I don't like him any more than you do...which I know is a lot." He returned her smile, his own white smile seeming to make his face genuinly glow with an effect that almost looked like...happiness. His eyes then glanced to the floor where the array of pizza and other food items had been laid. "Well...we have a tub of cookie dough...we can either pop in some chick flick movie and eat it out of the carton, or I can make an honest to God effort and get up to bake them for you. Which is it?"

A reluctant laugh was elicited from Vander at the suggestion to watch a movie. She was quickly nearing the point where all she wanted to do was crawl into her bed and fall asleep. "My holovision might die on us," she apologized in advance.

Standing up, she walked over to her bed and knelt down, pulling out a small box of discs. Most were films she had watched when she was younger. Looking at them now, she was unable to keep the sadness out of her expression. There were few actual movies in the collection. Most were advanced-level science documentaries. The box of films was one of the few things she had managed to take with her when she'd left home. She returned to Deon, offering him the box with an apologetic shrug at its contents. "Take your pick."

Deon didn't even bother looking through the collection, instead he just stuck his hand into the box and pulled out the first one that he grabbed onto.
While she waited for him to choose from the selection, she walked over to the old-model holovision on the wall. After some fiddling, Vander finally managed to get the glowing screen to light up.

He held out the selected movie for her to put in before bending at the waist a tiny bit to attempt to grab at the cookie dough, but when his ribs let out a loud snapping sound followed by a pained hiss from Deon, he just sat back into the couch with an annoyed expression on his face. He lifted up the side of his shirt to look at his ribs better. His entire side was covered in black and blue bruises, some larger than others, and there was a distinctive bump where one of his ribs was attempting to jut out of his skin.
Vander turned at the sound of Deon's noise of pain. Seeing the dark bruises on his chest, her expression fell. "I can get you some ice," she offered quickly, and he nodded.
Retreating to the kitchen once more, she opened the freezer. There were trays of ice there, but most had sublimated away. She frowned, pulling out the three trays and opening cupboards in search of a bag. The best she could come up with was a small garbage bag, but it would do. Cracking the remnants of the ice cubes into the bag, she walked back to the living room with the makeshift cold pack in hand and offered it to Deon.

He took it gratefully from her and pressed the makeshift bag of ice to his rib cage, jumping at the sudden coldness on his skin but it otherwise felt pretty good. He removed his arm from his shirt and left the shirt to rest up on his shoulder so it wouldn't get wet, leaving the other half of his shirt on sheerly for Vander's sake. "We have a movie to watch yes?"

She still looked unconvinced, having seen the rib that looked as though it was going to try to jab through his chest. "Yeah..." she answered reluctantly, grabbing the disc he had selected.

Scrawled in messy writing across the front of the disc were the numbers "2112-2115". Her expression fell visibly, and she wasted no time placing the disc back in the box and pulling out another. "No," was all she said as her reason.

Looking at the new option, she held it up for Deon to read. Again, the title was hand-written. A lecture and presentation on advanced organic chemistry. She laughed quietly. "Tired? I guarantee it'll put you to sleep," Vander said. She offered him the box of discs once more, doubting that her old videos from school courses would grab his interest.
This got a small laugh from Deon. What kind of movie collection did she have anyway? He stuck his hand back into the box and pulled out the first one he touched, this time looking at it. "Hey, here's an old one..." He said and tossed it to her. "But whatever you want bab-er...Vander. If you want to watch that sleepy one I'm down with that too."
"I doubt I have enough brain cells left to understand organic chem anymore," she muttered, catching the disc and looking at it. "RED? Sounds good."

She walked back to the holovision and slipped the disc in, hoping that the old device would still work. After a few seconds of delay, the film finally started up. Vander walked back to the couch, sitting down beside Deon, but being careful to keep a decent amount of space between them. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and curling up to watch the movie.

He adjusted himself on the couch as well so that he was sort of laying his torso in a somewhat awkward angle so that his bruised ribs weren't touching the couch to keep any unwanted pain away. He rested his arm across the back of the couch and eyed the cookie dough still on the floor before looking back to Vander with a somewhat childish look and smile on his face. "One more favor?"

Vander looked over, and it didn't take her more than a second to figure out what the favor was. She smiled slightly, proceeding to unfold her knees and reach forward to grab the tub of cookie dough. She set it on the couch between them, perhaps a bit closer to Deon than to herself, before resuming her curled up position once more.

Deon popped open the container of cookie dough and pulled off the spoon that came with it that had been attached to the bottom of the lid. He scooped up a good amount and then plopped it into his mouth before returning the spoon to the dough and then slid the container over to her.

After a moment of hesitation, Vander obliged. She scooped herself a mouthful of cookie dough, closing her eyes to savor the sweet taste. It had been a long time since she'd last eaten cookie dough. Probably even longer since she'd been able to taste it properly with Lucid.

Setting the container back down near Deon, she found herself immediately exhausted. Movies had always had that effect on her. But combined with Lucid, a drug with the side effect of stimulating dreams, the tiredness was overwhelming.

Within a few minutes, the tightly curled up form she had taken on the couch had relaxed. Already asleep, she was unaware of the fact that she had leaned sideways against Deon. Her breathing slowed, and a moment later her eyes twitched beneath closed lids, signalling REM sleep. With er hit of Lucid, she would be dreaming tonight.
Deon's attention shifted from the movie to Vander as he felt her slide into him a bit. He didn't even stop to think just how tired she must have been, given the state that her body was in. He watched her carefully, studying her still features, able to really take in the true beauty of her face and features without fear of being scolded by Vander herself.

"You really are beautiful..." Deon whispered softly, finding his fingers raking through her hair gently. He moved his body a bit so that they would both be in a more comfortable position before he put his arm back around her, continuing to run his fingers through her hair in a soothing fashion. It really was a shame that she was going to die, but he wouldn't have found out just how beautiful a person she really was if she hadn't been dying.

"You've got thirty days to live..." He said, using his finger to stroke the side of her cheek gently. "And I want to be there to give you the best thirty days of your life...if you'd just let me..." He sighed and rested his head back down on the arm of the couch, though still wide awake. He kept his arm around her, moving his hand from her face down to her arm, rubbing the skin gently. It wasn't until the movie was nearly over did he finally fall asleep, followed by troubled dreams.

---

There were plenty of dreams that night. Vividly coloured dreams in which she stood on clouds and watched the Earth rotate below her. Dreams in which she wandered through an endless forest, never tiring of staring at the details on the trees. But one dream stood out, so much more real than the rest.

Vander found herself standing in her old bedroom. There was the bookshelf, filled with massive volumes of complex works. Everything was carefully organized, like a miniature library. Non-fiction textbooks resided near the top. Epic fantasies and science fiction novels towards the bottom. She traced a finger over the familiar books.

Her desk sat beside the shelf, half-finished essays scrawled across pages of looseleaf. The blinds on the window above the desk were open, the yellow-orange glow of street lights streaking across the pages of work. It was the only hint of disorganization in the entire room. A textbook was open on the desk, depicting complex diagrams of molecular compounds. In the corner of the desk, there was an old datapad, the screensaver blinking away. On the other corner, a box of familiar holovision discs.

Her single bed was made, a grey and white striped blanket tucked in neatly along the edges. On the bed lay a familiar figure, propped up on one elbow with a sheet of paper held in her hand. Vander stared, and her younger self stared back. She recognized herself as sixteen. At that age, her body looked entirely different than it did now. Her dark hair fell in messy waves to her shoulders, parted unevenly down the middle. The girl was slender, but healthy. There still remained a hint of baby fat clinging to her cheeks. Her expression was incredulous as she stared at Vander. “Who are you?” she asked, dumbfounded by the familiarity.

Vander looked down at herself, taking stock. Her own body was hollowly thin, jeans loose on her thin legs no matter how small a size they may be. Her hair was shaved, and she knew well the bones of her cheeks and jaw-line cut sharp edges across her face. She must have looked terrifying to the sixteen year old sitting on the bed. Like looking into a funhouse mirror. Vander shook her head, ignoring the question from her younger self, and sat down on the bed. “What’s that?” she asked softly, looking to the paper the girl held in her hands.

The younger Vander sat up, folding her legs under her to sit cross-legged and handing the single page over. “Scores. From my Advanced Aptitude Test,” she answered. She gave a slight smile. “They spelled my name wrong.”

Vander took the page, reading over the brief text.

Vander Pzypaloski,
On behalf of the New Ancora Department of Education, this letter is to inform you of the results of your Advanced Aptitude Test, written on December 14th, 2115. Your scores have achieved a passing grade, with details as follows:
Advanced Mathematics…………………….…..95%
English………………………………….………99%
Physics………………………………….………98%
Human Anatomy…………………….…………92%
Graduate Chemistry……………………….…..100%
Introduction to Advanced Organic Chemistry…98%
Technical Writing………………………………98%
These scores combine for an overall average of 97.1%. Congratulations on your achievement of earning a graduate level degree. We wish you all the best in future endeavours.

The letter was accompanied with a signature from the head of the department of education. “I forgot how smart you were.” Vander smiled proudly, handing the letter back to her younger self. “Those are amazing scores. Dad had his video camera going when you opened the letter, didn’t he?”

The girl nodded, smiling. “Scores weren’t so great for Human Anatomy…but still, it’s high enough for a scholarship to Bohr’s Post-Secondary. Four thousand credits, with my average,” the young Vander explained, trying and failing to suppress her pride. “Their chemistry program is amazing. If I take a year off, get a job, save up some money…what?”

Vander realized her expression had shifted into something darker. Memories were creeping back into her mind. The year she had taken off from school, where everything had gone wrong. She shook her head, forcing the smile back onto her face as she looked at the girl that sat beside her. “Nothing. Bohr’s is fantastic. You’re going to love it,” she assured her.

But her younger twin looked unconvinced. She stared at Vander. At her hair, at her emaciated body, at the tired bags underneath her eyes. “You’re me,” she declared, the shock of realization evident on her face. “You’re older, but you’re me…you…” she hesitated, anxiety hinted in her expression. “You don’t go to Bohr’s, do you?”

Vander sighed, looking away. At sixteen, the chemistry program at Bohr’s was her dream. How on earth was she supposed to tell this girl that she never even went on a tour of the campus? How could she crush her like that? But at the same time, she knew that this girl was too intelligent to be lied to. “No. I don’t…you don’t go to Bohr’s,” she answered, shaking her head and watching the girl’s expression fall. “You don’t save up the money. You just…things don’t always work out.”

She watched as the young Vander’s eyes grew glossy with tears. “What do you mean things don’t work out? I studied for weeks for the Aptitude Test!”

Reaching out, Vander pulled the girl into a hug. “I know you did. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. You’re a good kid,” she told her, feeling the tears come to her own eyes. “You’re such a great, brilliant, fantastic kid. And you’ve done everything right so far. You’ve studied so hard, and you’ve stayed out of trouble, and you’ve been such a great kid.”

The girl pulled out of the hug, wiping the tears from her eyes and looking at her older self. “What happens?” she asked, voice filled with dread. “Tell me what happens.”

Vander pulled her own legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed across from her younger self. Now that they were both sitting the same way, it truly was like looking in a warped and twisted mirror. She saw her younger reflection, so much promise and so much potential. “You make bad choices,” she answered simply.

Reading the girl’s expression, Vander saw that the answer wasn’t enough. She either had to give the whole truth, or nothing at all. Taking a breath, she began relaying her future to her younger self. “Chemistry comes easy to you. You probably would have been one of New Ancora’s most gifted scientists. You’ve got the mind for it, Vander. Memorizing compounds and formulas is nothing for you…it doesn’t take someone with your brains to learn how to synthesize street drugs. For you, that’s child’s play. It’s easy money.”

The young Vander had gone pale. She looked physically ill, her apprehension so great that it seemed she might be sick at any moment. But the story continued. “You can’t just surround yourself with that sort of lifestyle and expect to not get sucked in,” she told herself, the words heavy with regret. “You got halfway there, Vander. You tried so hard. You could have covered tuition for half the length of the chemistry program.”

For several seconds, the two Vanders stared at each other in silence. Their faces bore mirrored expressions of crushing disappointment. Finally, the younger one spoke. “Do I die?” she asked.

“Not yet…but you’re getting there.”

She nodded, looking away from her older self. After a few more seconds of silence, she spoke once more, her words biting and cold. “I hate you.”

“You…what?”

The young girl looked her older self directly in the eye, her gaze filled with anger. “I hate you. What kind of idiot saves up college money by selling drugs?” she asked, the tears now overflowing down her cheeks. “You ruin my life! I hate you!”

Collaboration between Gonzo and YoshiSkittlez

---

There was a long period of silence on both ends of the communicator. Both men just stared at each other; one in disbelief, and the other with a sort of reluctance. Finally, after a short time, Henry began his story.

"It all started at a party..."


Riley Saunders, the very definition of 'rich girl raised right.' Having been born into an extremely wealthy family with a trustfund having to be shared with a single sibling, Riley would never have to work a day in her life. However, Riley and Desmond's parents raised them differently, embedding it into their children's minds that just because they had money, didn't mean that they should loaf around the rest of their lives. They should know the value of work, and the happiness it can bring when in the workfield. And so, Desmond went on to become a firefighter and Riley a receptionist for New Ancora's supreme court, directly under Henry Jamison, a name that was becoming just as popular as the Saunders' last name and the power it held.

Riley had been working for Henry for nearly six years now, progressing with him as his title continued to increase. He was a good boss, though firm, but Riley was a good enough worker that he never had to come down too hard on her for much to begin with. It was just three years ago that Riley started to realize (while dating other men at the time) that she had a fixation towards Mr. Jamison. It could have been the fact that he really was a good looker, not to mention his own fame and power he was creating from practically nothing, or maybe it was just the tabboo situation that he was simply her boss. Whatever the reason, she never did much serious dating after that, determined to be that pillar that Henry could lean on any time he needed her...and hopefully...after he had reached his goal...he could realize just how important she was to him too...
Henry Richard Jamison, son of James Mason Jamison and Lauren Jamison. Not only was he a man of many talents, but he was what many would call "good-hearted", "caring", some would even go so far as to say "sensitive". Born to two wealthy lawyers from District Zero, the man who would later become the President of Ancora worked himself up from practically nothing. His father, although wealthy, wasn't a popular lawyer, representing many cases from lower districts, sometimes even providing services for free. It was because of this, Henry, in school, was known as the "garbage man's son." From then on Henry vowed to do things differently; to become a far more respected individual than his father, to be more successful, be more liked, be more feared, and that's exactly what he did.

Henry looked up from his martini and his eyes fell upon his very attractive secretary, Miss Riley Saunders. She had joined his staff as an intern in her late teenage, early adulthood years, and after showing such passion for her work, she was hired shortly after (it also wasn't bad that she was a Saunders, which meant another way to gain popularity between the upper district members). He often wondered what it would be like to be with such a lively young woman like her, but because he was so involved with work, and because that wouldn't be professional, he usually pushed those thoughts aside. After taking another sip of his beverage he slowly made his way to her.
"Hello, Miss Saunders, how are you enjoying the party?"

Riley was quite the hot-spot for attention that night, and it wasn't even remotely because of the fact that she was downright beautiful and stuck out in the sea of corperate stuck-ups in her denim jean skirt, red pumps and matching red Christmas blouse, which was buttoned down one button too far that would be deemed 'appropriate' for a work party, but no one said a word about it. She was currently talking amongst a rather large group of secretaries such as herself, nursing her third glass of red wine for the evening. Between listening to bits and pieces of the three different conversations that seemed to be taking place in her group, she would occasionally hum the Christmas tune that was playing in the background, hardly audible above the low roar of the party. She had hardly even heard her boss approach her, though when she did she turned and gave him a smile.

"Mr. Jamison, I'm enjoying myself quite well thank you. Can I get you anything?" She asked. Even at a party, she still managed to do her job by making sure he had everything he needed. It wasn't out of her character either to drop whatever it is she was doing if he had needed her to run to the office for a sudden project. In fact, thats exactly what had happened last year.

Henry shot Riley one of his famous half-smiles; the left half of his mouth partly closed, the right half pulled up into a small grin, it was a discerning smile that not only showed confidence and dominance, but was well known to melt hearts. He was amazed at Saunders' dedication, and always tried to show he appreciated it, a card on her birthday, a card on Christmas, even a bouquet of flowers on Valentine's Day (which always had his colleagues muttering and whispering in the break room, but he didn'tcare), but today, he was giving her the day off, and he intended to keep her off duty.

"No, no. That won't be necessary, Miss Saunders. In fact, I came here to ask you the same. Is there anything I can get you?"

A pink blush found it's way to Riley's cheeks at his smile. Good God, how many times had she ever thought about that smile? Though the better question was, when wasn't she thinking about that smile? She passed the slight heart flutter in her chest by sipping at her wine casually, as long as she managed not to choke on it...she should be fine. After the beverage had gone down smoothly, she proceeded to shake her head no.

"Everything is well Mr. Jamison, but I appreciate the gesture all the same." She said sincerely. "How are you enjoying's the party then Sir? Up to your standards?" She asked, a mock-tease in her tone.

Now it was Henry's turn to blush slightly. Sir. The way she addressed him, as sir, although professional, always drove him a tad but crazy. Many times had she addressed him as sir, and he had to stop himself from just...

"I uh.." He cleared his throat, the flustered look slowly leaving his face. The other secretaries noticed and giggled. "The party is good. You know John and his gatherings. If he keeps it up, I'm telling you, he'll be somewhere big some day." Henry took another sip of his martini and shot her another half-smile, he could've sworn someone swooned.

"And you? How are you enjoying the party?"

Riley couldn't help but to let out a soft giggle, the cute noise catching the immediate attention of some of the other men in the room, bur Riley paid them no heed. When she was talking to Henry Jamison, it was like no one else existed...just the two of them and not a care in the world.

"You've already asked me that Sir. Perhaps you've gone a bit too heavy on the martini's tonight?" She asked, though not in a way where she was advising him to stop, rather that he was simply having a good time and relishing in what the party had to offer.

"I know we shouldn't discuss work at a party, but I did want to let you know that those files for your re-election as senator have been filed and documented. By comparing the numbers to the last time you've run...there's no way you can lose. At this rate, Sir, John won't be the only one making it somewhere big. You're doing so well and the people love you. Give it a couple years, and there will be a fresh new face sitting in that presidential chair." She cleared her throat, realizing that she had been rambling a bit too much. Her attention shortly turned to the middle area of the room where some of the more drunken party guests had been singing kareoke Christmas music, and she smiled. A distraction at it's finest, because at this rate, she was sure to make herself to look like an idiot in front of him. Her head turned back to Henry. "But if you'll excuse me Sir, I do believe it is my turn to give a go at 'Up on the Housetop.'"

She handed Henry her drink for him to hold, and then turned to go to the center of the room where she took the microphone and waited for the song to begin.
Henry blushed yet again and smiled, shaking his head slowly.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I had asked that. Perhaps I have had one too many..."

As Riley, unsurprisingly, changed the subject and talked about work, Henry listened intently, getting lost in the movement of her lips. Oh how he wished there was misletoe above them both at that moment. Once she cleared her throat, he was thrust back into reality and he let out a small laugh. His hand went out and took hers in his.

"Thank you, Riley, really. You always know what to say." He took the wine glass in his hand and shot her another half-smile. "Go kill it out there."

The music started after she had put in her request, and began to sing. Having taken voice lessons as a little girl all the way up into her late teens, she was very good...stunning in fact. Even a song as simple as 'Up on the Housetop' she brought it out with such emotion and passion that the room was filled with applause by the time she was done. She handed the microphone to the next person and stepped off of the small stage, heading back to Henry to retrieve her drink. She just hoped that singing in front of all these people was enough to have calmed her nerves when she returned to speak with him, but upon retreiving her drink, she had realized she was wrong.

"Well? How did I do?" She asked flashing him a nervous smile and then immediately went to sip at her drink as she felt a warmness course through her body...but it wasn't because of the alcohol. Her mind shifted to a handful of other times she had felt this same way when Henry was near. How many times had she pleasured herself thinking of him? And how many times at her own desk had she done it, secretly wishing that he could just catch her? Thinking about it now sent goosebumps over her skin, and so she took another fast drink from her wine glass, finally emptying it of it's contents.

Henry had found himself a small spot on the wall to lean on as Riley started singing. His eyes widened momentarily as Riley began singing. Her voice was beautiful, he had never heard something so wonderful before. The surprised look was wiped away and instantly substituted for that of a completely happy and content look. Sadly, though, the song was over, and his secretarty was making her way over to him. He handed her drink over to her and smiled, letting out a small laugh.

"Well, well, well, Ms. Saunders, I didn't know you could sing like that. That is amazing. Probably the best voice I've heard anywyhere." Henry shot her another half-smile and looked down at his glass, which was now empty. He mentally cursed himself for being close to her at such an intimate party without liquid courage. "Why didn't you become a professional singer? You're voice is so good.."

Riley let out a slightly embarassed laugh at her boss' praises. "It just wasn't something I saw myself doing for a long time, I'd get bored after a while you know?" Her green eyes glanced down at first her empty glass, and then his. "Shall we get our refills then?"

Henry nodded slightly, and turned in the direction of the bar, when his portable holo-communicator sounded. Henry rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Excuse me, please. I need to take this." He mumbled before walking out of the room into somewhere more quiet.

He stepped into a room a few seconds later and opened the message. A small hologram of himself popped up, reminding him of some other file he had to file before the weekend was up, meaning he needed to go, now. His hand went back into his pocket after the message finished, and he felt around for his office keys. He groaned inwardly when he realized that he had forgotten his keys at home, and it wasn't close enough to work to stop by quickly. Then he remembered Riley. There was no doubt that she had a pair of keys to the office. A dark smile flashed across his face as an idea formed in his slightly clouded head.

"Ah, Riley! There you are!" Henry stepped up behind Riley and tapped her shoulder. "I am so sorry, but I need to go to work to file something, but I dont have my keys. I forgot them at home, and I know that you have them, seeing as how you are so much more responsible than me. Would you mind terribly if you came with me to the office?"

Riley, meanwhile had wandered off from the bar once her wine glass was refilled and eventually approached John, the very man of the hour. She gave him her quick congratulations, followed by the customary 'making sure he received Mr. Jamison's gift' and then the whole 'we would gladly appreciate your support in the re-election.' Her attention then wafted when she was yet again approached by her boss with a tap on her shoulder, and she smiled.

"Of course I wouldn't mind. I wouldn't have it any other way Mr. Jamison. The last time you tried filing paperwork on your own...it took me a week to follow your paper trail to find the stupid thing." She teased and turned back to John. "Lovely party, but work has called us away. Expect a phone call from me tomorrow evening for a scheduled lunch between Mr. Jamison and yourself to discuss those matters I was speaking to you of." And with that, she raised the wine glass to her lips and downed the contents, not about to waste a good wine simply because she had to leave. She then turned back to her boss and nodded, indicating that she was ready.

****

As soon as Henry was handed back his credit card, he stepped out of the cab. Once it had driven away, he muttered something under his breath about the prices being too damn high. Still, he put on a smile and straightened out his suit.

"Alrighty, Riley, lead the way and I will follow."

Upon exiting the cab, Riley stumbled a bit from her steadily declining coordination, but managed to catch herself by bracing herself against the cab for a moment, passing off the embarassment with a slight giggle. Once she was out, she pressed down her black denim skirt and then lead the way, as Henry had requested and approached the front doors. She pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the main building door, as it had been closed hours ago due to the holidays and current late hour. Once inside, she continued walking and found her usual route that she took nearly every morning. Up the stairs, down the hall, three lefts and a right and then up one more flight of stairs. She then unlocked the second door that kept them out and stepped inside to the room where she did most of her work, though her office was still a few feet away. Instead of continuing to her own office, however, she turned the opposite corner and then unlocked Henry's door, allowing him inside before flicking on the light, letting the florescents fill darkened area as not any other lights were on at the moment.

Henry followed close behind Riley, his heart starting to beat faster and faster with each step he took. A couple of times, he caught his eyes trailing downwards and had to shake his head and keep his eyes straight away. Once she unlocked his office door, he shot her another smile and sighed greatfully. "Thanks so much, Riley. I dont know what I would do without you, I really don't."

A couple of minutes later, the computer was on and he was sliding his finger on the screen left and right, stalling while he gathered the nerves to go through with his plan. Filing the file was a sinch, all he needed to do was move it into a folder, just like Riley had shown him, but if he did it himself, then he wouldnt be able to make the plan progress, so instead, he moved a couple of files around, out of their folders, and onto the main desktop. Satisfied with his little mess-up, which would take Riley not even a couple of minutes to clean up, he stood up and walked over to the doorway of his office.

"Um... Riley... I think I may have fucked up a little, again.."

Riley had been patiently waiting outside of his office, and wasn't at all surprised to hear Henry calling her for her help. She shook her head and sighed, though still wore a smile on her face. "Am I going to have to ban you from all technology Mr. Jamison?" She teased as she walked into his office and sat down on his chair, analyzing the situation before moving the files back to their correct places.

Henry watched as Riley moved the files back into place, taking all of three minutes to do so. He shrugged slightly at her question and chuckled. "You know, I wouldn't put it past you for doing so." He pulled out his holo-communicator and let out a fake, yet very convincing sigh. "I apologize, greatly, but I need to make another call before we leave, so make yourself at home, and shut off my computer for me, if you would be so kind. I'll be right back." And with that, he walked out of the office, hoping his plan would take off the way he wanted it to.

Riley nodded, already knowing fully well what one of those phone calls could mean. It could mean ten minutes...or two hours...still, she didn't have any other plans for the night. She made sure to save a few things on his computer before shutting it down and remained in his chair for a few minutes...just waiting. When Henry didn't come back right away, her suspicions were more than likely confirmed that it would be one of those longer phone calls. She got off of his chair and made her way over to the small couch on the side of the room and took a seat, taking the moment to reach behind her head and pull the pin that had kept her hair up for the evening. She ran her fingers through it, shaking out the 'hair cramps' and let the somewhat wavy hair fall naturally at her shoulders. She clicked her tongue a few times boredly, letting her eyes look around Henry's office. She had been in his office plenty of times before, so nothing really stuck out as new to her...but then again this was the first time she had been alone in his office for such a prolongued period of time.

She shifted her body a bit, letting her back rest against the arm of the couch and lifted her feet up onto the couch, taking off her heels one by one and began to massage her aching feet. After relaxing back on the couch with her hands on her stomach, she looked around the room once again to notice that it had began to spin. She let out a tired laugh, her fingers absent-mindedly fiddling with the bottom of her blouse. She looked back over to the door. No sign of Henry. A fleeting thought pressed at her mind, what it would be like to actually masturbate in her boss' own office? The sheer thrill of the act at her own desk was stimulating enough, but his own office was taking it up a whole new level. A smirk spread across her lips as she felt herself getting warm between her legs despite the cooler air circulating around the abandoned building.
Maybe for just a minute...

Henry put away the holo-communicator, letting the darkness of the rest of the building disguise himself. He took a deep breath and sat quietly on one of the small tables in the room, biting his bottom lip in anticipation. He had seen her a couple of times, touching herself at her desk, but never said anything. It was kind of exciting knowing that she did that, and it was even more exciting that she didn't know he knew.

Riley slipped her hand between the unbuttoned fabric of her blouse and into her bra. She massaged her breast as best as she could given the restraints, occasionally pulling and pinching getting a soft gasp out of her now and then. Her other hand moved to her knee where she slid it up her thigh, hiking underneath her tight skirt until she found her red lace thong, which she just pushed to the side as she let her finger dance around to explore her womanhood.

Henry's breath hitched slightly as he watched Riley. He had been biting his bottom lip so hard, any longer and he would have drawn blood. His plan was going perfectly, so it was time to actually confront her about what she was doing. Trying his best to cover up his excitement, he stood up, pulled out his holo-communicator, and waltzed into the room as if nothing was happening.

"Alrighty. Phone call is done, someone from..." He trailed off as he "caught" her on his couch. He dropped the communicator and stared at her. "What... what are you doing?"
Riley had never moved so fast in her life. She didn't even hear Henry coming and by the time she was aware that he was back in the room, it was too late. Still though, she quickly pulled her hand from underneath her skirt and her hand from inside of her blouse and stood up quickly, too quickly in fact as the alcohol had caught her off balance and she stumbled again, but by some miracle remained on her feet.

"Mr. Jamison!" She exclaimed, feeling her cheeks go full-on red. She had always fantasized about this very moment, but now...now she wasn't so sure if that was the best move. Depending on his mood...she would be jobless in just a matter of seconds. "I-I am so sorry I-" She fumbled for her words, her eyes looking down at her bare feet. "It won't happen again, I promise. I didn't know how long you were going to be and..." She exhaled sharply, wondering just how much he had seen. "Please don't fire me..." She added on, finally able to lift her eyes to look back at him.

Once again, the man shot his famous half-smile, although this time, it came out dark. Nonchalantly, he took a seat on his desk and raised an eyebrow, listening to her apology with slight amusement. He raised up one hand to stop her and shook his head. He was silent for quite some time, staring at her with a pensive look on his face. Finally, he stood and took a step closer to her.

"Miss Saunders," he said cooly, the dark smile slowly returning to his face. "I have one question for you. How long have you been doing that?"

Riley could barely hear his question over the thumping of her heart. "Just...just a few minutes...Sir..." She answered, not quite sure if he meant in general...or just tonight; though something told her it was the first one.

A finger went to his chin and he raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that, Miss Saunders? I don't mean just tonight. I've watched you do that a couple of times before, when you think no one is watching. It's exilarating, isn't it? Pleasuring yourself when you think no one is watching..." He took another step closer. Without really waiting for an answer, he continued. "Nevertheless, I don't want to interrupt you, so go ahead, continue." His smile widened just a bit more. "And, if you would like, I could maybe help out a little."

****

It had been a couple months since Henry and Riley had slept together after the Christmas party, and since then, they had spent most of their working hours getting in as much action as they could have. The two started dating shortly after the Christmas party, but it was in secret. It would have never looked good for Henry or Riley if they had been caught dating, public relations, and the public themselves would have ripped the two apart with accusations, rumors, you name it.

Henry smiled at himself in the mirror. He was wearing a solid black, slim fitting suit, green dress shirt, and matching tie, and boy, did he look good. Seeing as how it had been a while since he had taken his girlfriend on a real date, he invited her to meet him at a small, secluded restaurant only known to a chosen few. It was expensive, yes, but he liked to spoil Riley, so there wasn't much of a problem.

About an hour later, Henry stepped out of his town car and into the restaurant, and was promptly seated at a two person table. There was only one other couple in the restaurant, and as far as they were concerned, he was nobody to them. He straightened his hair and rearranged his silverware and plates about a hundered times waiting for Riley to walk up to his table.

Two months, one week and three days. That was the exact date Riley had been able to fulfill her fantasies, and even more since then. Keeping it a secret was the hardest part, she had never been in a relationship that would potentially ruin someone's career before, but it made the times that they had alone all the more special. She didn't mind having to meet Henry for their occasional date, it would look bad if someone caught his car outside her house anyway. But tonight, tonight was different; she was, in fact, not looking forward to dinner. After changing her outfit at least fifteen different times, Riley settled on a sleek black dress that didn't hug her figure too much and eventually left to meet her boss and now boyfriend.

Upon arriving at the resteraunt, she stayed in the parking lot for an elongated period of time, staring down the doors that would lead her to tonights potential disaster. Swallowing hard, she got out of her car and walked inside, spotting Henry immediately. Putting on a smile, she tapped his shoulder gently and then moved to sit across from him after placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "Sorry I'm late. Ran into a few...complications..."

Henry quickly stood and walked around the table, pulling back the chair and allowing Riley to sit down. Once she was seated, he sat down himself. A waiter came around and greeted the two, asking them what they would like to drink. Henry smiled at Riley and winked.

"For the lady, the best red wine, and for me, a martini." The waiter nodded and began to walk away, and Henry turned back to his girlfriend with his famous half-smile. "So, how are you this evening? You look stunning, if I do say so, myself."

Riley hesitated the moment he mentioned wine. She should have expected that. She turned to the waiter quickly. "Uh, waiter, just a soda for me actually, uhm...Dr. Pepper..." She nibbled at her lower lip a bit before turning back to Henry, and tried to return his smile. "Well, you know, hard day at the office...the boss has really been riding me..." She said, attempting humor to help with her nerves.

Henry furrowed his brows at the change of drink. It was unlike her to do something like that, seeing as how she always loved a good red wine with her dinner, but then again, variety was the spice of life. Pushing the small tinge of concern away, he found himself laughing at her small joke.

"Well, you know, he does like a hard worker, and you, my dear, are definitely a hard worker." Henry leaned over the table, placing his elbows on both sides of his plate, and his head in his clasped hands, the smile was still plastered on his face. "You know, I really am the luckiest guy in the world for finding you. Im glad you applied for that internship. I really do. I wouldn't have made it past the damn computer if it hadn't been for you..."

Riley feigned a small smile at his compliment, but her own words were escaping her. Instead, her stomach continued to tie itself in knots. How the hell was she going to get through tonight? Simple...she wasn't...not like this...

"Henry..." Riley said, avoiding his gaze for the moment. "We...we have a problem..."

Henry's brows furrowed again, only this time, they frown was deeper. His mind began racing with thoughts, starting with the upcoming election. As far as he knew, he was still way, way ahead in the polls, so it couldn't have been that; no one had broken into the office, it had the best security, so it couldn't be that; people still loved him, so popularity wasnt a problem, so that really only left Riley and him. He looked away for a moment, then back at Riley. His heart sank.

"What... what do you mean we have a problem? What kind of problem?"

Tears began to well up in her eyes, but she still refused to look him straight on, it would be impossible to say what she needed to say if she did. His tone broke her heart, but that was only a small taste of what was yet to come.

"I'm pregnant." It was only after saying this that she finally looked up to meet his eye, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "I'm so sorry...I thought we were being careful...I..." She wiped the tear away and then burried her face in her hands. "This is all my fault...Oh God Henry I'm sorry..."

If Henry had been holding a glass, he would have dropped it. The room started spinning. Pregnant. His girlfriend was pregnant, and they had been going out all of two months. How could something like this have happened? She was right, they were being careful, there wasnt a time when they weren't-- the night of the Christmas party. That was the only time he hadn't used any form of protection. But that was two months ago, she couldn't have been keeping it a secret that long, could she?

Henry opened his mouth to speak, but the waiter came up before he even got a sound out. With a cheery face, he dropped off the drinks, took one look at Riley, and left after saying that he would give the two some time to look over the menu. As soon as he had left, Henry took a deep breath, greatful he hadn't said anything around him.

"No, no. It's not your fault at all, Riley. Please don't cry. Just... tell me how long you have known you were pregnant. A week, a couple of weeks..... a month?"

She nodded her head to the last guess, not even paying attention to the drink she had just been given. "A month." She repeated, taking her face from her hands to look at him once more. "I would have told you sooner...but...I had to be sure...I just got back from the doctors before coming here..."

Henry said nothing, just picked up his martini glass and emptied it in seconds. He ran a hand over his face slowly, simultaneously letting out a long, deep sigh. It had to have been the Christmas party. How could he have been so stupid. Then again, he was drunk, so maybe he deserved what he got. No matter, it was something he was going to have to live with. Besides, maybe a son wouldn't be so bad afterall. It might even look good to those who had families if he became a family man himself, but in order to do that, he would have to marry Riley. A small smile crept its way onto his face; now there was a pretty good idea. They hadn't been dating long, but he was pretty sure that she was the one. She was the epitome of a great woman; sexy, smart, sweet, caring, kind, a great supporter, not to mention great in bed.

He reached out and took Riley's hand in his, squeezing it gently. "Listen, Riley. It's okay. I promise you, things will be okay. We just need to lay low about this for a month or two more, okay? We can do this. I love you, Riley."

She nodded, understanding what he was saying. She had come to the same conclusion the moment she knew for sure she was pregnant. "I know..." She said taking his hand gratefully. "I love you too. And thats why...I'm going to be leaving for a while." She stopped, trying to keep herself from choking on her next words. "Your re-election is coming up, and I'm not about to risk that. I'm going to be going to stay with my brother Desmond in District 4, it's already been settled so I'm not asking for your permission." She bit her lower lip. "You...you can consider this my temporary resignation. I just...I need to clear my head...and you need to focus on your job. I refuse to be the reason your numbers start to drop."

Henry let go of Riley's hand and slowly retracted it. He wasn't really one of those kind's of men to show sadness, regardless of how people called him "sensitive," but her words hit him hard. His brows furrowed yet again and a lump started to form in his throat. He blinked a couple of times and shook his head. "No.." he muttered, "Why? There is no reason to leave, Riley. I don't understand. Look, I said we can work things out... We can... Why resign? We're so close to the election, I need you now more than ever. You can't just decide to resign now.. Please.."

She shook her head, looking back down at the table. She figured he'd say something like that. "Which is why I've already hired my replacement. She's as good as me...maybe even better. You don't hear the people in the work room Henry, they've been whispering about us for years now, and now that we can't prove we aren't together..." She just shook her head again, forcing her tears back this time. "I'm leaving tonight, and I don't want to hear from you until after the election. Maybe then we can start to work things out...but not right now...it would ruin everything for you." She swallowed hard and got up from the table, walking to Henry's side and kissed him softly on the cheek. "I love you Henry, but you've got to put your job before me. You've worked too hard to let it all crumble down now." She let out a soft exhale before leaving Henry's side to return to her car where her bags had already been packed and ready to go. The second she shut herself into the car, however, she fell into a fit of uncontrolable sobs.

Henry just sat in his chair, silently, taking in what she had to say. He didnt say a word as she started leaving. It wasnt until after she was immediately out of sight did he stand. He grabbed whatever was in his wallet, probably all of two thousand credits, and threw them down on the table before rushing after her.

He spotted her car in the lot the moment he stepped out. He walked over to the car, his vision starting to blur from the tears that had begun forming. He reached the window, where he saw Riley in a fit of tears, and pounded on the window. Already a few tears, probably the only few tears he had really shed in his lifetime, fell down his cheeks.

"Riley, you roll down this window, now!"

She jumped slightly at hearing a pound on her car window, and through her blurred vision of tears was able to make out Henry on the other side. She just shook her head and started up the car. He had to know that she was doing this for him...and only for him. She shot him a quick apologetic look before she started to back the car up, making sure she didn't accidentally run him over before pulling out of the parking lot and headed for District 4.

****

Eight months, three weeks, one day, and 4 hours, that's how long it had been since he last saw or heard from Riley. By now, his son should have been born, so why hadn't she called? This was one of his many thoughts as he sat in his new Senator's office for the Ancorda Legislature. He had won the election in a landslide, just as Riley had predicted, thanks to all his staff and especially his new secretary, but things weren't the same at all. Yes, this new secretary was good, but she was no Riley. This one was too focused on her job, too no nonsense; she had no sense of humor, and quite frankly, could be somewhat of a bitch.

No one really commented on Riley's dissapearance, and if they did, it was behind Henry's back for fear of some sort of harsh retaliation. Every time someone did ask about it, who wasn't working for him, he would either brush the topic off, or come up with some sort of excuse, but that only went so far.

Every day, he would check his mail; every day, he would check his holo-communicator. Finally, he was just about to give up, when one day, Linda, the secretary, walked into his office.

"Mr. Jamison, you have a call on line one, someone from District 4. He isn't giving a name, but is saying the matter is urgent. Probably some lobbyist trying to get a law passed."

"Thank you, Linda," he muttered, answering the communicator only when Linda was out of the room. "Good afternoon, this is Henry Jamison, Senator, speaking, how may I help you today?"

The other line was quiet for a moment, before a man cleared his throat. "Mr. Jamison...this is Desmond Saunders...I'm Riley's brother..."

Henry almost dropped the commuicator in shock. He was silent for a long time before speaking. "Oh, yes.. Uh, hi.. Um, yes. Okay.. I uh.. How are you?"

"I...well...would it be possible to meet up for lunch sometime? I feel like there's some things I should tell you..."

"Oh, yes. Definitely... That would be good. Um. Where would you like to meet? We can meet in District 4. Um... Jeez.. Uh.. will Riley be there?"

"The Copper Onion, and...no...no Riley won't be coming. I'll explain everything there. I'll meet you there within the hour." The line went dead, and Desmond began to get ready for the most awkward meeting of his life.

It was nearly one'o'clock before Desmond reached the agreed meeting place, running his calloused hands over his goatee in a nervous manner. He was alone, just as he had said he would be on the phone, and to keep himself somewhat occupied, sipped on his order of jasmine tea.
Henry stepped out of the back of his town car and sighed. His palms were sweaty, which was rare for Henry because of the fact that he never got nervous when meeting and talking to other officials. His mind was racing with questions; Why wasnt Riley there? Was Riley okay? Was his kid born? Could he see his kid? He pushed all the questions aside for the moment and walked into the restaurant.

It took a little while for him to find Desmond, only having been shown a picture of the man once or twice before when Riley brought him up, but nevertheless, he saw the man sitting at one of the tables, and made his way over to it, taking a seat across from him at the table.

"Hello Desmond, I am Henry Jamison, but you probably knew that already.... How are you?"

Desmond didn't look up when Henry sat down, at least, not at first. With a collected sigh, he finally met his gaze. "Yes, I did." He said simply. Desmond then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small holo-picture and handed it to Henry across the table. "Your son." He said, the look on his face unclear whether he was annoyed, proud, or even happy about it.

Henry stared at the picture of the young boy for a long time, a small smile finally making its way onto his face after that time. He looked up and his smile faded at the look on Desmond's face. "I have a son." It was more a statement, than anything. "What's his name? Where's Riley?"

Desmond took a moment to rub his temples tiredly before answering. "His name is Deon Desmond Saunders, Riley thought it would be the best name for him, though God only knows why she named him after me." He cleared his throat again. "Look, Riley...she's...she's having some problems. She ended up getting really sick in her fourth month. The doctors did all they could, but in the end...it took up most of her trust fund just to keep her alive...let alone keeping the doctors quiet about the whole pregnancy."
Henry stayed quiet and nodded a couple of times. Once Desmond was finished, he took a deep breath. "Why didn't she contact me? She said she would contct me. I could have sent her money. She knows I would have done that for her. Can I see her? I want to talk to the mother of my child. Speaking of which, can I see Deon?"

"If you feel that is best, you may see Deon. He's currently staying at my house. Riley..." Desmond paused to let out yet again another sigh. "I don't know where she is, but Mr. Jamison...the Riley you knew is gone. She's...different, and you need to just let her go."

"What the fuck do you mean I need to let her go?" Henry hadn't realized he had raised his voice as much as he did until he felt the stares of other patrons. He sunk a little into his seat and waited for the others to look away before continuing. "Why can't I speak to her? And what do you mean you dont know where she is? Why didnt you call the police? Why didnt you contact me, Mr. Saunders?"

Again, Desmond was quiet, letting Henry calm down once more. "You're making this more difficult for me than it needs to be Mr. Jamison..." He said softly and took another sip at his tea. "But...if you must know...soon after Deon was born, she became addicted to the drugs the doctors had precribed; pain killers mostly. After that, once she became well again, it was too late. She's in deep, Mr. Jamison, and she's not coming back out of it. She's a completely different person, so you might as well just think that she died in childbirth."

"But... She said..." Henry shook his head and placed it in his hands. It was like wave after wave of sadness crashed over him. He couldn't believe it, the mother of his child was now no longer the Riley he once knew. He let out a small sigh and closed his eyes. "Fine. Okay. Can I at least see my son, then?"

He nodded, pleased that the man finally had enough sense to listen to him. "You may. He is your son after all. When will you be coming by?"

"How about today? I would like to see him as soon as possible... Please... if it isnt too much of a problem.."

"We can head there now...if you'd like." Desmond sipped the last of his tea and made a move to stand.

"Yes. That would work. Thank you.."

With another curt nod, Desmond was off after paying the bill for his tea and hailed a cab for the two of them, beginning the long, and very awkward silenced ride back to his home. Desmond had done well for himself over the years, but it wasn't his firefighter income that got him the mansion of a home that he lived in, most of the money coming from his own trust fund. "Wait here, I'll go and get him up from his nap." Desmond said before leaving Henry in the main room on his own.

The minutes passed, and Desmond came back with a tiny infant in his arms, wrapped up into a blanket and pressed closely against his uncle. Upon approaching Henry, Desmond hesitated before handing Deon over to him.

Henry took the baby in his arms. He brought him close to his chest and smiled. His baby boy was beautiful. He could feel his eyes begin to water and he sniffled once. As he stared at his son, he mumbled to him almost inaudibly. "Hey there, little guy. I'm your dad. It's good to see you." He smiled a little. "You're a little trouble maker, arent you? Making your mommy go...." He trailed off and his smile faded. He looked at his would-be brother in law and stood, handing over his son back to Desmond. "Uh.. Thank you for showing me my son, sir. I appreciate it." Without another word, he quickly walked out of the house, hailed a cab, and made his way back to District 0. He had met the reason Riley had went into her downward spiral, and he couldn't bear to see him again. Not now, anyway..

"I never went back.... Shortly after, I met your mother, married her, and had two wonderful sons who I love dearly."

James just stared at his father and nodded. "Thanks, pop... I'll talk to you soon. love you..." And with that, he hung up.

(Collaboration between Mach2 and Ghost Shadow)
--
Havok moved with eagerness and haste, hoisting his rifle over one shoulder. "She's clever...for an organic. Banks are already equipped with a wealth of equipment and computer systems. Setting up base was intelligent. However, we should prepare ourselves for traps. The paranoid ones are the worst." He finished irately. "Hardest to find, hardest to kill; always have a backup. It's a good thing you have me here, Mistress." He said with a curt nod as he continued on.

Vagrant rolled her eyes, her gaze focused on the bank they were approaching. The building was relatively huge, and each of the windows looked to be blacked out. "Yeah, because I ain't capable of figuring out a couple o' traps," she laughed as they reached the building. "Just 'cause she's smart don't mean I can't handle it."

She looked at the door they had reached. Solid steel, no windows. The differing paint colours at the hinges hinted that it had previously been replaced. "Probably locked...betcha I can pick it, though," Vagrant said confidently, reaching to test the handle.

Havok saw her slowly approach the door. A single scan of its make confirmed his fear and he jumped in, grabbing her hand tightly before she touched it.

"Mistress, no! It's rigged..." He stated in a protective tone. Without releasing her he knelt down, picking up a rock. He tossed it underhand towards the door; it bounced off as a crackle of electricity radiated across the entirety of the door frame.

"Before you make arrogant claims, Mistress, ensure your optical sensors are up to par." Havok advised, his snarky, playful tone returning once more as he let her go. "Now, let's find out how to fix this door."

Vagrant watched the rock, the crackle of electricity unmistakeable. "Oh..." She frowned, nodded, and took a step back from the door. "That coulda been interesting."

Looking back up at Havok, she shrugged, appearing unphased. "So how do we un-electrify a door?" she asked, fully expecting him to have the answer.

Havok looked down at her, sighing in an irate tone. "Mistress, how many times must we go through this: I was made to kill people, not save them! With your exception, of course, Mistress. Knowing information brokers such as these, there's usually a code to deactivate the door trap. But where, I wonder?" Havok asked curiously, pacing about.

She shrugged. "Betcha that guy woulda known the code if you hadn't scared him off," she answered with a smirk.

"Mistress, had he either known there was a code, or he *wanted* to tell us the code he would have. Organics of his type become very reasonable upon the threat of death, I've observed. I archived all the information I would have out of him. Shall I find him once we're done and set him aflame? I haven't used my flamethrower in awhile." He mused with an offwards glance.

Proceeding to walk back and forth around the entrance, she mused to herself. "Bet there's a passcode or something. And I bet there are idiots who work here who forget it...." she mused to herself. "Maybe someone was stupid enough to write down a hint somewhere. That'd be nice, eh?"

"Hmm, you may very well be onto something, Mistress. I recommend we look around the facility, organics are horrible when it comes to remembering key phrases or passwords."

She nodded, beginning to look, but clearly wary to touch the building after the demonstration with the rock and the electrified door. The walls were brick, in good condition for a building in Zone Beta.

After several moments, she stopped in front of a section of the wall. There was a brick perhaps a foot out of her reach, but she could clearly see the discolouration. It was lighter than the surrounding ones, which were all a perfectly even shade of roan. "Hey," she said, turning to Havok and pointing at the brick. "That one's funny."

"Funny? I don't hear it uttering any humorous statements, Mistress. If by 'funny' you mean 'displaced' then, please, say so." His tone was playful, however, most likely only to cause irritance rather than actually insulting her.

"The hell's 'displaced' mean?" Vagrant asked, shaking her head in annoyance. "I'll say what I feel like saying."

Havok reached up, noticing the brick was loose. Pulling it free from the others he looked at the back of it..."2, the number written on the back is 2." He stated aloud, examining it closely.

She grinned broadly, proud of the fact that she'd spotted the brick. "They're actually dumb enough to write their password down?" she asked incredulously. "Awesome. See any more weird bricks?"

"I can try, Mistress. We shall see how effective a searcher I am." He stated before getting to work.

"I believe them writing down their own password was to compensate for human error. But I have not asked this Datacore, herself. Once we meet her, Mistress, shall I shoot her in the knees? It will be a great way to gather information." He suggested happily, eventually pulling out another brick marked with a '4'.

"I'm gonna lose count of how many times I gotta tell you...no shooting anyone unless I say yeah," she said, taking the brick from him.

Holding both of the bricks in her hands, she looked at the two of them. The '2' brick was a few shades darker than the '4' brick. She gave a thoughtful noise, realization striking her. "Hey, I betcha they go from dark to light...or light to dark. They ain't the same colour."

Havok approached, bending down slightly to examine. "Ah, yes, optical scans confirm you are right. You show excellent observational skills for an organic, Mistress." He complimented with a nod. "It appears the Datacore thought of everything. But will she think of a bullet between the eyes? Why can't I kill her, Mistress?" He asked in despair.

" 'Cause I need her help. Killin' her don't get me that," she grumbled.

She looked at the wall, pointing out a third brick for Havok to retrieve. "That one there, it's weird, too," she said.

Havok nodded once, procuring this one down. "It's marked with an 8. Which shade of color is this one, Mistress? My photoreceptors were not made for differentiating shades of color." He stated, somewhat shamefully.

She raised an eyebrow, laughing. "Really? The super death bot of doom can't tell colours apart?" she taunted him, taking the brick and setting it down on the ground in line with the other two. "4, 8, 2...or 2, 8, 4."

"Mock me if you will, Mistress, but I can hit a target with perfect accuracy. Differentiating colors is not a useful skill then, now is it? Anyways, back to the task at hand. My computers cannot decide whether to choose 4, 8, 2....or 2, 8, 4. I suppose our best bet is to try both codes and see which one works."

Without another word he walked over to where the keypad was, preparing to type in the first code.

Vagrant watched Havok, nearly bouncing back and forth with excitement. "Do the 4, 8, 2, one first," she instructed excitedly.

"Very well, Mistress, but please, calm yourself. The last thing we need is an over-excited group of bandits attempting to rob us the find. Though, spilling blood would be quite fun." He offered thoughtfully, typing in the 4, 8, 2 code. The field deactivated slowly, and a loud, ominous click sounded as the door unlocked.

"Now, let us enter, but please, Mistriss; be on your guard." He advised before the door slid open, his rifle out in front of him.

Karis watched them enter from the monitor in her office. They seem smart; after all they were able to get through the door. "Activate floor" She spoke into the intercom and the floor flipped from wood to a slick tile slippery enough to break bones if slipped on.

"I'm on my guard," Vagrant confirmed, walking directly behind Havok. "Anything in there? I don't see anything. Maybe they don't even know we're here yet."

She kept up the stream of chatter as she peered past him into the door. "I think it's safe. No one's shooting at us or nothing."

"Mistress, I strongly recommend you use your sense rather than sight; the best traps are those *unseen*, look beyond." He advised, carefully taking a single step forward, feeling his own foot begin to slip; he stamped down defiantly with the other, supporting himself.

"Ah, an old but practical trick. The floor is slippery, dangerously slippery. Be cautious; you organics are so uncoordinated." He said, retaining his current stance.

Vagrant made a face, seeing what Havok meant about the floor now. "It's just a slippery floor..." she muttered, moving to take a step forward.

She had been expecting the ground to be similar to an icy street in the winter time. Even though she stepped cautiously, her feet couldn't find a grip against the ground. A second later, she was sprawled across the floor, sliding up against the wall and swearing up a storm.

"Can't even get past this? Oh just wait until you get to the next trap!" Karis laughed over the intercom after seeing the girl take a spill over the tiles.

Havok looked up sharply. "A grave mistake, Datacore: not only have you revealed yourself within the building, but you have also given away the fact you have more traps laid out. Oh, how I cannot wait to bash your head against your own damned computer screen." He hissed, holding up his rifle and shooting the intercom with it.

He knelt down slowly; though he was metal and quite sturdy, he wasn't infallible to slippery conditions and would no doubt fall, if careless. "Come up now, Mistress. Hopefully this prepares you for what remains." He said calmly, lifting her with one hand.

Vagrant accepted the help reluctantly, knowing her feet would only fall out from under her again if she tried to stand on her own. Once she was up, she grumbled something about not calling her 'mistress', before making her way very slowly forward. Pushing against the wall, she was able to slide a few feet further.

"Come now, stay steady, Mistress. I fear more traps shall befall us." Finally, after what seemed like hours they had passed the slippery floor, and were onto more solid, stable footing. "Now, observe once more; it's quite obvious this...delusional keeper of knowledge has set up a few toys for us..."

When he feet touched steady ground again, Vagrant smiled. The sliding floor of the lobby had been replaced with a long hallway. "That wasn't so bad. If all the traps are like that, this'll be a cakewalk," she said nonchalantly, walking forward again.

A small beep sounded after a few steps. Vagrant froze, unsure of what she had just triggered. She waited in apprehension for a trap door to open beneath her feet, or for knives to shoot out of the walls. Instead, there was a bright flash of light. She squinted, then raised a hand to cover her eyes as the light intensified.

The familiar weight of her backpack straps disappeared in a second, and she heard the clattering noise of something falling to the floor. "The hell?" she muttered, turning around and opening her eyes again.

She swore loudly when she saw her backpack's contents lying strewn across the ground...and even louder when she saw that her legs and the entire rest of her body were unclothed. "What the hell?" she yelled, panicking. "The hell was that?"

The girl dropped to the ground, scrambling to cover herself and pick up the contents of her backpack. "Turn around!" she ordered Havok, looking up at him.

Havok turned sharply as he saw the flash of light, staring silently as he saw both Vagrant's backpack and clothing disappear from sight. "Are you attempting to seduce me, Mistress? I'm afraid I'm not programmed to reciprocate any romantic or sensual emotions organics experience. However, if you're so yearning for companionship you'd strip down in front of your assassin droid, I'd be glad to locate us a bar to go to. I'd even threaten an attractive young man to lay with you, if that is what you wish, Mistress." He said, already turning around at her command.

"I ain't seducing you. It's another damn trap," she spat, still curled up and kneeling down on the ground in an attempt to keep herself covered. "I don't strip down for no one, 'specially not robots."

She reached forward, relieved to see that the change of clothes she carried in her backpack had not been vapourized. She pulled on a white tank top and a black pair of pants, but could do little for her lack of underwear or shoes. She would have to buy some later. Frowning, she gathered up the rest of the contents of her bag, sliding an oversized pair of brass knuckles onto her fingers, and stuffing a crumpled photograph into her pocket. A handful of spare change had also fallen to the ground, and she quickly picked it up. Strips of white cloth joined the photograph in her pocket, used for wrapping her knuckles for fights.

Standing, she turned to look at Havok again. "Okay, you can turn around again," she answered. "You're damn lucky I hit that trap, that woulda fried you."

After a second, Vagrant tilted her head, a slight grin appearing on her face. "You'd threaten a guy to sleep with me?" she laughed.

"A trap? Ah, yes; vapourization ray, interesting. Though more effective against actually armed opponents." He turned around once more on her command. "You'd threaten a guy to sleep with me?" His mistress asked in an amused tone.

"Well, I would if you commanded it, yes. I consider it a win-win; you'd get to savor the sexual relations you appear to yearn for with a passion and I get to see the reactions organics take to my various threats." His photoreceptors flared ominously.

"I might take you up on that offer," Vagrant consented mischievously. She corrected him quickly. "And I don't yearn for nothing with a passion. Shuddup."

She started to walk forward once more, and then stopped. "Your turn to go first," she told Havok, gesturing for the droid to take the lead.

Havok merely nodded, taking the lead once more; his posture crouched and poised. "Hm...it appears she took the message. No taunting words from the intercom? Perhaps she's afraid I'll shoot that one too." He said, a sly undertone to his voice as he continued to walk.

Vagrant followed behind, some of the red finally leaving her face as the embarassment of having her clothes vapourized wore off. She was more angry at the fact that her backpack was gone. Now the only things she had left of Austin's were the brass knuckles and the photograph. After that last little trap, she was thinking she might let Havok indulge his desire to smash the Datacore's head into her computer monitor.

Barefoot, she stepped down the hallway after Havok, on alert for the next trap.

The hallway cut off into the next room. It was large and open, only a thin sheen of light coming through; toppled desks, chairs, and papers littered the floor around them.

Havok held his rifle out in front of him. "Wide space, multiple obstacles for cover. Prepare for impending combat; no doubt this is a perfect room for a rather devastating trap." He advised, yet no fear was in his voice.

Karis leaned to the microphone and began to talk. "Robots, move" She said and a few rooms over, the robots came to life. Their red eyes now glowed as they began to walk out of the dark room into the old office where desks, chairs and papers were scattered everywhere.

Her brother's brass knuckles already on her fingers, all Vagrant had to do to ready herself was raise her fists in front of her face. At the sight of the robots, her face twisted into a smirk. "We can take those, yeah?" she said to Havok. "They just look like more useless versions o' you."

Havok chuckled aloud as he saw the clunky machines emerge; no doubt he had expected them. But he turned to look at Vagrant upon hearing her comment. "More useless? More useless? If you're insinuating that these...tin cans, barely worthy of a scrap yard pose even the smallest threat to me, then you're about to see the show of a lifetime!" He bragged in a determined tone, grabbing his pulse grenade strapped to his platform he tossed it at one of the machines lumbering towards him, holding his rifle up in preparation.

"Fire," Karis spoke. She didn't mean bullets or anything, but actual fire. And that's what then came from the grates on the faces of the robots. Actual fire being shot out at the targets.

Vagrant danced backwards as the flames appeared, feeling the heat licking at the air in front of her face. It was unexpected, and she was caught off guard, but she managed to avoid burns. She waited for a break in the stream of fire, and then rushed forward, the spiked metal knuckles on her fist heading for the head of the nearest machine.

Havok ducked for cover quickly, watching as the flames danced about the floor of the room. "Tactical assessment: pyromancer class platforms, equipped with flamethrowers. Stay outside their range, the farther the target; the lower the accuracy." He sighed audibly as he saw Vagrant to up to punch it.

He, however, held his rifle up, aiming down the reticule carefully and attempting to shoot the gas tank strapped onto the lumbering palooka's back.

The fuel tank of the robot let out a sharp hiss as the bullet connected with it before finally exploding. Pieces of the machine lit aflame by its own internal fuel were scattered about the office. The rest of the clunking monstrosity's brethren appeared unfazed and continued the assault.

Vagrant ducked with lightning speed, reacting to the noise of Havok's rifle before the explosion even sounded. She hit the floor, wincing only slightly as flaming debris grazed across her back and shoulders. "Watch it!" she warned Havok, though she was undeniably glad to see the machine destroyed.

Karis could only look at the security screen in shocked at what she saw. How could her robots be losing the fight? Upon getting a closer look at who was fighting against her own traps, realization hit her like a slap in the face.

She typed information into her computer at a hasty speed, results coming up within seconds. "Ariette Forge, 17 years of age, born in District 15 to Scott and Jeanine Forge; brother to Austin Forge. This street rat's been places." She commented with a small chuckle, moving onto the robot.

"Unit HA-VK built by...Henry Jamison? Guess the guy's got more dirt on him than I thought. 5 years old, advanced combat platform; passed down from owner to owner, becoming a freelance, sentient bounty hunter. Those ones are the worst." She grimaced, typing a few more commands into the console.

"Initiating Hellfire program, increase temperature and spread of flames, seal all doors in the area; if I can't burn them out, I'll smoke them out." She stated darkly, smiling in a sinister manner.

Only moments after the first one exploded, the other machines were moving forward again. Vagrant danced back, out of reach of where she anticipated the flames would reach, a mocking smile on her face.

The sound of a door closing grabbed her attention, and she turned away for just a half a second. But that was long enough for the defense robots to attack. Before she knew it, the flames that she had thought wouldn't reach her were licking at her arms and body. She yelped, jumping back. The smell of singed hair hit her before the pain of the burns did.

She cringed, looking down to see her arms pink and blistered from the flames. "Ow. Frickin' ow," Vagrant swore under her breath, quickly retreating another few steps from the nearest robot.

Havok's eyes seemed to flare in anger, he would be sure to pay special attention to the Datacore once they had the *pleasure* of meeting.

Havok sprinted to wear Vagrant was, ignoring the flames entirely. "Get behind me." He commanded, his usual jovial tone gone, replaced with supressed fury and determination.

Vagrant wasted no time in doing so. As much as she hated to give up a fight, she knew this was out of her league. Havok could end this fight in a fraction of the time it would take her, and spare them both a good deal of injury. He held his rifle up, shooting anywhere that could impede the machine's movements: knees, feet, photoreceptors, hands.

He lopped another grenade to the feet of the robot farthest from him, hoping to impede it, if not destroy it entirely.

The explosion of the grenade rocked and shuddered the room about them, competely demolishing any debris or obstruction in the immediate vicinity. The robot, now critically damaged only lumbered about a few steps before falling, lifeless; the red menacing glow of their photoreceptors now dimmed away until nothing was left, signifying the brute's demise.

The other machine didn't even look away, already busy attempting to recover from the devastating blows Havok delivered. A well placed shot to the joint that connects the arm to the torso was severed and the now useless arm fell away.

The robot groaned aloud, continuing its demonic onslaught of fire. Havok shot a whole clip into its chest, the front panel falling away; revealing the inner mechanisms of the metal monstrosity.

Havok aimed his rifle up, landing a single shot on the internal fluid storage. It began leaking quickly, eventually lighting the entire machine on fire. It roared aloud, a horrible, ear-splitting noise before falling, the ravaged metal black and charred.

The room finally went quiet, and Vagrant slowly stepped out from behind Havok. Her eyes widened in approval at the sight of the fallen robots. "Not bad, Mr. Robot," she acknowledged, approaching the nearest scrap of metal and nudging it with her foot.

She turned back around to face Havok, grinning arrogantly despite the stinging burns on her arms. "I coulda finished them, though. Just saying."

Havok looked at her with exasperation. "Mistress, were I to try and enjoy myself and let *you* deal with these hulking pieces of junk then I would be staring at your singed corpse wondering where to go from here. You may be strong on an organic level, Mistress; I will not deny that. But my mobile platform and even...these ones are far superior in make and structure!"

Vagrant rolled her eyes, in total refusal of Havok's claim that she wouldn't have made it against the robots. "Come on, let's keep goin'."

Karis tapped a single finger against her cool desk in anxiousness; they were getting closer than she thought. She couldn't keep the doors sealed for long, it was only a temporary measure and she didn't have enough time to make all the proper internal deadbolt seals. A well placed shot to the door control could have it open within minutes: she'd need to prepare herself.

Opening the drawer in front of her desk, she procured a pistol; though small in make, it packed quite a punch and was *most definitely* from Alpha Zone. Her assailants would be on her before long, but she would be poised...and ready.

Vagrant walked forward, leading the way confidently. At the opposite end of the room, past the shreds of metallic carnage, was the next door onwards. About to reach for the handle, she hesitated for a brief second, and then withdrew her hand. The girl turned, grabbed a scrap of metal from the ground, and lobbed it at the door. "See, I'm learnin'," she teased Havok, listening and failing to hear any tell-tale crackle of electricity.

Only when she knew it was safe did Vagrant test out the door. The handle proved to be stuck, and ellicited a groan of frustrated annoyance from her. "This one's locked...and I don't got nothing to pick it with," she told Havok.

Havok nodded approvingly upon noticing her test the door. "Oh, Mistress, you learn so fast." He praised in an approving tone. "It appears the Datacore sealed the door. Not a deadlock, it seems, no. Work is too sloppy." He looked around for a few moments before finally resigning to shooting the hinges of the door. It fell down with a loud thud.

"When in doubt, Mistress, shoot it." Havok advised cheerfully enough, stepping through the doorway into a very dark, sparsely furnished office. "Ah, there's our friend." Havok stated in a biting tone.

Karis gasped, turning around suddenly in her chair as she heard the door collapse. She held up her pistol awkwardly, she was trained in information, not combat. "What do you want?" She hissed, managing to retain composure in her tone, though her posture appeared desperate and fearful.

Vagrant stepped through the door immediately behind Havok. Where the sight of someone holding a gun at them may have frightened others, caused them to hesitate, Vagrant only smirked. "Put that thing down," she told Karis, her tone conversational. "We don't need no bullets flying around. 'Sides, he'd," she nodded to Havok, "Gun ya down before you could even finish pulling the trigger."

She crossed her arms, watching Karis. "All I want's a few answer to a few questions. You're s'posed to be good with answers, yeah?"

Havok remained stiff and composed, his rifle aimed at Karis' head in case she tried anything.

The woman stared daggers at Vagrant; how dare this dirty little shrimp be giving her orders? But she had no wish to play draw with an assassin droid and complied, laying the pistol on the desk carefully.

"I'm an information broker, yes, and a damn good one." She spat out, her pride obviously hurt by the fact she was discovered. "I suppose now is the time where I trade information for my life, yes?" Her tone was very casual, as if she was almost equally as bored as she was frightened by this encounter.

"Yup, sounds about right," Vagrant nodded. She paused for a brief moment before speaking again, taking the time to word her question and savour the anticipation for the answer. "Whaddya know about Austin Forge?"

Karis sighed, walking over to her computers and quickly typing in the words. "Ah, yes, Austin Forge; your sweet brother." She said in a taunting manner. "Stole weapons for food, pissed off a few gangsters and got his jugular slit open in moments, he was quite the character. Anything specific you wish to know before I take this pistol and put a bullet in my own head?" She asked impatiently.

Vagrant's expression twisted into a deep scowl. Hearing another person talk about her brother so casually was more than enough to get her temper going. "I wanna know the names o' the guys that killed him," she said. Her casual tone was gone, replaced with barely-suppressed rage. "Names, faces, addresses. I wanna find them."

Karis merely shook her head, typing a few more keys in. Data came up at a blindingly fast rate and a few pages were printed.

"I'm one of the few to still use paper printers, I find them much more convenient." She stated, handing the papers to Vagrant. "Here is the identities of the men who killed your brother. Best be careful, though. They'll kill you too without a second thought."She said, almost wishfully.

Vagrant took the papers, flipping quickly through the first few pages. Finally. Now, she could go and get herself some sweet revenge. Fixing Karis with a cold smile, she shook her head. "They'd have a hell of a time trying. I don't go down easy."

She folded the stack of papers down the middle, stuffing them into her oversized pockets. "Thanks for the time," she told the Datacore, turning to head for the door. "C'mon, Havok. LEt's go finish a job."

"Affirmative, Mistress." Havok stated, making his way towards the door. Karis offered her own cold 'sweet' smile. Suddenly, when Havok was looking away, she grabbed the pistol, firing at point blank range; the energy bolt going through Vagrant's knee.

Vagrant didn't see the weapon fire, nor did she feel the initial pain. One second, she was stepping towards the door. The next, her leg buckled and she found herself tumbling to the ground.

Then the agony seared through her leg. Pain shot up her thigh and down her calf. Pain that she knew had to be accompanied by blood. A sound somewhere between a groan and a yell escaped her tightly clenched teeth. Don't look. Don't look. Quickly, she fixed her gaze on Havok and Karis, anywhere but her knee. It proved to be the wrong place to look.

As soon as the shot was fired, Havok was planted in front of Vagrant, literally shooting the pistol out of Karis' hand.

The information broker hit her knees with a yelp, clutching her now-mangled, smoking hand.

Havok threw his own gun to the ground, his fury upon him. Havok threw a strong right hook, sending Karis to the ground before grabbing her by the side of the head with both hands.

He began to squeeze dangerously, applying hundreds of pounds of force into the pressure. "Havok," Vagrant warned, her voice shaking.

Karis could do nothing except groan loudly in pain, clawing at the cold metal hands that would not release.

"Havok!"

The worst part was that Havok made no sound, no speech, no noise, just silence. He pressed and pressed and pressed until finally the nauseating sound of bone caving in on itself sounded.

Blood pooled between Havok's fingers and flecks of bone and brain matter lined the immediate vicinity. Havok dropped Karis' now lifeless body to the ground, where it landed with a thud, blood pooling all around her from her opened, hollowed out skull. Havok attended to Vagrant, examining her.

Havok holstered his rifle on his back and lifted his mistress up, intending to carry her out of the facility. If Vagrant hadn't been panicking the second Karis had shot her, she certainly was now. The girl's face had paled of any colour, and she was shaking. For a second, she struggled against Havok, trying to get away from his blood-covered hands. "Put me down!" she ordered in a terrified voice.

She stopped struggling as she finally caught sight of her knee. Her breath caught in her chest, and she went silent and wide-eyed. Blood covered her leg, turning her black pants dark and shiny. It dripped onto the floor, droplets spattering there. A childish whimper of fear escaped her at the sight, and she looked as though she may pass out.

Havok spoke little as he carried her out, merely looking at her on occassion. Whether it was a look of pity or concern or impatience could not be told by his skull-like head.

Finally he broke the silence, "Mistress, you have nothing to fear; you are safe now. You have the information you require on the men who slaughtered your brother and the Datacore is dead. You should be celebrating! I will try to see about finding you a clinic to treat these wounds once we find somewhere to hide, I fear my programming does not entail medical service." He finished with a small sigh before becoming silent once more.

Vagrant nodded shakily at Havok's words, trying to force herself into a calmer state. Aside from her fiercely aching knee and the minor burns, she was unscathed. Havok didn't seem concerned by her injuries...maybe her knee wasn't as bad as it had initially looked. Even now, the pain was tolerable. So long as she didn't actually look, she could handle it.

"You didn't have to kill her," Vagrant said through clenched teeth. Even if she could block the image of her own knee from her mind, the memory of Karis's skull crumpling in Havok's grip was a bit harder to shake. "Coulda just knocked her out and left..."

"Mistress." Havok began coldly, the same tone of dark foreboding anger in his voice once more. "She shot you, she made that choice." Was all he said, eventually leaving the damnable bank.

"Now," He began again, his jovial tone back as if it had never left. "Where's the nearest hospital?" He asked curiously.

She shook her head. Hospitals, for Vagrant, ranked nearly as high as blood on her list of things to avoid. "I dunno...I think there's one a few streets over." She racked her brains, trying to remember where exactly they were in D-13, an area she usually knew like the back of her hand. "Yeah, small place. Hanover Street Clinic. Don't think they ask too many questions, neither."

"Then we shall head there, immediatly." Havok said, making his day down the street, Vagrant still in his arms.

"Mistess, I am so sorry I did not react sooner. As your guardian and assassination droid, it shames me that I allowed you to be hurt when I was only a few feet away. I hope the wound does not pain you too much." He added sorrowfully, his head cocked downwards slightly.

"Nah, don't worry," Vagrant told him. As much as it hurt her pride, the accident was a large part her own fault. "I turned around on someone who had a gun in arm's reach. That's just stupid."

"And it ain't hurtin' too bad," she lied. "I've handled worse."

Havok looked at her, "Mistress there's no need to lie to me. Your body lacks much in the way of scars or marks of previous altercations. This injury is new, but I won't argue with you." He conceded, eventually reaching the clinic. It was a small building, slightly dingy yet clean in its own way - for a Beta Zone building.

Havok stepped inside, receiving a few odd glances from patrons and staff alike in the waiting room.

"There was an accident." He began in a truthful tone, adjusting his vocabulator. "I am a protocol droid in service to this young lady who works at the Adamanium mill, we were attacked by raiders; she was shot. I procured this rifle from one of the dead assailants for protection just in case." He lied, sounding very convincing as he did so.

Vagrant was relieved for Havok's lie. In any other situation, she would have been able to pass a lie off without hesitation. But not when her knee was dripping blood all over the floor of the hopital lobby. The receptionist behind the desk, a woman in her late forties, looked at the two of them and nodded quickly. "We'll get you in immediately," she told Vagrant, paying little attention to Havok even though he had been the one who had spoken.

She picked up a phone from the desk, speaking quickly. "Paging Dr. Keller. There's a young girl here, bullet wound in her knee." A nod later, she set the phone down and looked up at Havok. "He's on his way. Thank you for bringing her here-"

"He's stayin' with me," Vagrant said firmly before the woman could suggest that Havok leave.

After a brief hesitation, the receptionist nodded. "All right."

An awkward silence fell upon the room while the odd-looking duo waited. After a few moments, the door parallel to them opened and the doctor stepped out.

He was an older man of at least fifty, with curly graying brown hair and a thin line of scruff. His face was weathered but friendly and was dressed nicely, for a doctor in Zone Beta; he was wearing a simple dark gray frock coat over a matching waistcoat with a name badge on it. Under this was a white dress shirt and black dress pants and leather lace-up boots.

"Ah, yes, hello." He said in a cheerful tone, approaching the two of them. "I am Dr. Emmet Keller, pleasure to meet you. Please come with me." He said with a friendly smile, exiting from the same door he entered from.

The door led to a rather small, but efficient looking patient room. "You can lay her down on the bed there, thank you." He said to Havok. "I'm rather intrigued...I've been in medicine for nearly 30 years and I've never seen a protocol droid bring a patient in." He said, sounding somewhat interested, but still friendly.

As Havok set her down, Vagrant quickly scanned the room for something to look at. Something other than her bloody knee. Jaw still clenched painfully tightt, she finally fixed her gaze on the door, listening as Keller spoke. "Now then, let's see what we have here..." Dr. Keller said, holding a small datapad with a stylus.

"Hmm...yes, blaster score to the knee, it appears the energy cell is still embedded. Bleeding but...the obstruction is fortunately protecting you from bleeding out." Dr. Keller began, speaking more to himself than to Vagrant.

"And how did you say you got this?" He asked curiously, furrowing his brow as he cupped his chin with one calloused hand.

"Adamanium mills. Raiders, and I got shot," Vagrant answered, repeating the story that had been told only minutes earlier, though in far fewer words. She looked anxiously past Keller at Havok, as though seeking confirmation that she had remembered it correctly. "My bot got me out and brought me here."

Dr. Keller looked at her sympathetically, "I do apologize. We've been having more and more raider attacks recently, it's slowly becoming a large issue." He commented, his face sober and serious.

"Well, be sure to shake the hand of whoever gave you this robot. I'm no technician, but that's an amazing function." He said, offering a small smile in Havok's direction.

"Alright let's see...the bullet doesn't appear to have pierced anything major, but...I'm afraid we're going to have to replace the knee. Were this a regular bullet, we'd be having a different conversation, but this is an energy score; I'm not even sure how such a weapon made it down here. The bullet from this particular gun burned and fried nearly everything inside your knee, so it requires a full prosthetic replacement." He said gravely, offering a sad smile for hopes of lightening the seriousness.

Hardly any of the words registered for Vagrant. In fact, she deliberatel tried to tune it out, not wanting to hear the details about the damage that had been done. But she caught the gist of what he was saying. Karis had buggered her knee for good. "But, not to fear, prosthetic knees are quite common around and shouldn't impair your mobility too much. We can get you into surgery immediately, if necessary. But we'll have to ask your robot to remain outside in the waiting room during the surgery." He stated seriously.

Havok reacted to this. "Doctor, I must object, I must remain by my mistress at all times!"

Dr. Keller quickly turned to Havok, "Don't worry, she's in good hands, trust me." He reassured, holding up a hand to calm the nearly-frantic machine.

Havok's reaction was mirrored by Vagrant. She looked at Keller, the panic she had been managing to suppress creeping back into her expression. "He don't leave my side," she said, trying to speak in her usual intimidating tone, but instead realizing she sounded like a scared little kid.

Dr. Keller looked at her sympathetically, "I know how you feel, I really do; but he'll be right outside in the waiting room. But I can't have him in the operating room, there's just not enough space." His mouth was curved into a small frown as he said this.

After a moment's reluctance, Vagrant finally nodded her consent.

"Alright then," Dr. Keller began, rubbing his hands together. "Let's get started, shall we?" Havok slowly left the room, giving one more glance to Vagrant before sitting in the waiting room, opting to grab a holo-magazine and read it.

Dr. Keller had a hover-wheelchair sent in for the short transit to the OR, disinfecting his hands and putting on gloved before adding advanced surgical goggles, face mask, and cap.

He rolled Vagrant into the OR, a gray, bleak looking room with a metallic surgical table in the middle surrounded by large pieces of equipment.

Two nurses were awaiting him inside and helped put Vagrant on the surgical table before turning on the computers and equipment.

"Alright, Vagrant," Dr. Keller began, "I believe it's time I tell you what exactly this surgery will entail: we're going to open up your knee complet-"

Vagrant quickly shook her head, cutting him off. "I don't wanna hear it, just do it," she said, her expression betraying just how unnerved she was.

Dr. Keller stopped as she interrupted, offering a small nod in response. Before he could begin one of the nurses approached and began whispering in his ear.

"What? No, no I thought we got a new shipment in just a few weeks ago! All out? Are you sure?" He whispered back, his tone not happy in the least. "Damn..." He swore in a furious tone, though remaining quiet. He sighed, thinking. "We'll make do..." Was all he said.

Approaching Vagrant once more he exhaled deeply, "Vagrant it seems we're almost completely out of our anesthesia stores. I thought we got a new shipment recently but the increase in raider attacks has caused us to run completely out." He stopped for a moment before continuing, "I'm going to apply a numbing serum to your knee to attempt to dull what I can but...there's going to be some pain." He said truthfully, the words tasting like poison as he spoke them.

She didn't speak, not trusting her voice to conceal the terror she was now feeling. You can handle it, she told herself. She'd handled pain before. That time she cracked the bones in her knuckles with a wayward punch. Countless beatings and bruises while growing up in the streets. She nodded in response to Keller's news. He took a rather large syringe from a nearby shelf and carefully injected it into Vagrant's torn knee. He held a rubber rod-like device for her to bite on before continuing.

He restrained her arms and legs with metallic cuffs attached to the surgery table to keep her from moving about too much. It took all of Vagrant's self-control to not fight against him. Every instinct screamed at her to punch him in the face and book it out of there. Instead, she forced her arms to stay limp, to not struggle against the doctor who was legitimately trying to help. Already, she could feel the pain in her knee lessening thanks to the serum injected. Maybe she would barely feel it.

"This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you..." Was all he said before grabbing the cutting tool. He slowly lowered it onto her knee, beginning to open up the ravaged flesh and cutting completely through to the bone.

Instantly, any of Vagrant's hopes for minimal pain were gone. She bit down on the rubber rod, hard enough that her teeth ached and her jaw creaked in protest. The sound of her kneecap being sawed open sent her into a panic, and she was unable to suppress the yell of pain and fear. If it weren't for the restraints, noses would have been broken.

A nurse handed him a precision cutting laser where he carefully separated the bone from the tendons. A small mechanical arm was lowered from the ceiling where it extracted the kneecap entirely from the area, lowering it onto a metal tray. Vagrant could only watch in wide-eyed terror.

"Removing dead tissue..." He updated in a collected, determined voice; using the laser to cut out any black, dead tissue that remained inside the knee.

"There's the bullet...it's embedded deep." He said, controlling the mechanical arm from a small joystick attached to a computer.

The bullet was gently pulled out, distorted from going through muscle and bone. It fell with a small clatter onto the tray. Glancing over at it, Vagrant felt her stomach lurch. If her knee wasn't in so much agony right now, she knew she would have vomited at the sight of the bloody, warped, bullet.

Once Dr. Keller thought his job was done he asked for the replacement knee. It was bleach white and appeared advanced enough. Dr Keller had the mechanical arm gently place the new knee where its previous occupant was located.

He grabbed the laser once more and slowly began to cauterize and close the skin around the new prosthetic, the smell of burning flesh and smoke rising up to meet him. Were he not an experienced doctor he would have heaved right there. Fresh pain met Vagrant, and she was once again unable to suppress a yell, muffled by the rod she was still biting down on.

Hooking up a leg brace around the new prosthetic, Dr. Keller tested the new knee, ensuring it was working effectively. Vagrant watched, a quieter whine escaping her every time the joint bent. By this point, she could see black licking at the edges of her vision. Don't you pass out. Don't you dare pass out, she ordered herself.

Finally, with sweat on his brow and unshed tears in his eyes from the awake-surgery, he was successful, removing his goggles and mask. The second he did so, Vagrant relaxed slightly. She unclenched her jaw, letting the rubber rod fall from her mouth, and lay back against the table. The girl's breathing came heavily, and she looked as though she had just run a marathon. The searing pain had been replaced with an intense ache, but was now tolerable, if only barely so. "That's it? Over?" she asked Keller hopefully, exhaustedly.

Dr. Keller let out his breaths slowly, wiping the tears away from his eyes before speaking. "Yes...yes, you're done." He said tiredly, running a hand through his mess of hair. "Nurse, please get Vagrant a hoverchair and return her to the patient room..." He said, sounding exhausted.

The nurse complied, returning after only a moment and helping Vagrant into the chair. Only now did she allow herself to look at her knee. The bleached white of the prosthetic stood out sharply against the freshly cauterized skin, the entire joint encased in a sturdy brace. Vagrant had no idea how deep into the joint the false knee went, nor did she care. All that mattered was that it was over. She looked back at Dr Keller, offering him a genuine smile even though her knee still ached fiercely. "Thank you," she said before the nurse steered the hoverchair from the room.

The chair went down a short hallway, the nurse eventually entering a hospital room. It was a far cry from the abandoned houses Vagrant usually slept in. Plain and unadorned, with a bed and a small desk with chairs. "You can rest for a while now,"she told Vagrant kindly, stopping the chair beside the bed.

With the nurse's help, Vagrant was able to get into the bed. She lay down on top of the covers, leg stretched out flat. "Can you go get my robot? Am I allowed to see him again yet?" Vagrant asked.

"Of course," the nurse nodded, leaving the room to go find Havok.

The waiting room was a...mess. Chairs were flipped over and frightened people sat behind any cover possible. Havok, however, was sitting civilly in a chair, looking through another magazing, his gun lying in his off-hand. The nurse looked around, alarm crossing her face, before quickly addressing Havok. "The girl you brought in, you can go see her now," she told him nervously, before quickly going to attend to the frightened people hiding around the room.

"Thank you." Havok replied cheerily, standing up and walking into the patient's room.

"Mistress, you appear well. Are you nauseous? Do you need a bag? I would prefer if you didn't get vomit on my platform." He said in his usual happy tone, holstering his rifle on his back once more.

"I been better. I ain't gonna puke, though," Vagrant answered with a forced smile. "Knee hurts like hell..."

She wasted no time. As soon as Havok had entered, Vagrant was pulling the sheets of paper out of her pocket. "Worst deal ever. A knee for a bunch o' papers," she grumbled, passing half of the stack to Havok. "Wanna help me read up on the guys we're goin' after?"

Havok nodded, taking the stack of papers and flipping through them. "It appears the Datacore spared no information. Fear is an incredibly useful tactic against organics." He noted, his eyes glowing more than usual. Before he could continue, however, Dr. Keller entered the room.

"Hello, Vagrant, coping well?" He asked. His eyes were tired but his usual cheerful demeanor was back.

She instinctively stuffed her share of the papers back into her pocket the second Dr Keller entered. "Yeah, coping good," she answered. Even though her knee now rendered her immobile, she was eager to leave. "How long I gotta stay here?"

Dr. Keller typed a bit of information into the computers. "For a few hours, at least. You need to rehabilitate your injuries and get used to the new knee, you only just got out of surgery." He said, eyes on the screen in front of him.

"I'm running up the bill...total costs come up to 750 credits." He said, tapping the stylus of the databad against his chin.

Vagrant frowned, looking uneasy. "I don't got that much," she answered simply. Her share of Havok's bounty put her three hundred credits short. Even with her own previous funds, she still didn't even come close.

Dr. Keller sighed deeply, as if he was making an important decision. "Oh...it seems the computer had an error. It says you don't owe anything..." He said in a knowing tone, his eyes not moving from the screen.

The uneasy frown was instantly replaced with a broad grin. Vagrant didn't believe the computing error for a second, but she wasn't about to argue. The good thing about Zone Beta was that things weren't ever monitored too closely. Keller's 'mistake' would likely go unnoticed. Everyone would forget about the girl that had come in for a prosthetic knee. "That sounds a hell of a lot better," Vagrant answered gratefully.

"Yeah, it does." Dr. Keller said with a small smile, standing. "Well, I'll let you rest." He wrote something in a small card. "Hand this to the receptionist on your way out. You're free to go whenever, but I strongly urge you to rest for a bit." He said seriously before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.

The second he had left the room, Vagrant pulled out the stack of papers once more. Anxious to leave though she was, she knew that a rest would not be a bad idea. "We'll get these read through, then we can leave," Vagrant told Havok, already beginning to work through the first page.

"As you command, Mistress." Havok responded, flipping through the other pages. "Harvey Bishop, lives in District 17, works in an auto shop, evidence of continuous gang activity. Jackson Grant, works as a bartender...no current gang activity. It appears he defected." Havok stated, "Most curious. Finally, Wyatt Cain, large gang activity, no employment. Lives off gang funds." Havok finished, folding up the papers.

"Pictures of all of 'em, too," Vagrant added as she finished with her own pages. "This is gold. Datacore woulda been a perfect place to go...aside from the whole shootin' me bit. And my backpack getting zapped. I'm pissed about that."

She stuffed her pages into her pocket once more, sitting up and swinging her legs off to the side of the bed with a small grunt of pain. "Yep, that feels nice," she muttered, and slowly stood, putting barely any weight on the prosthetic and still struggling not to grimace.

Havok supported her with one arm. "Mistress, do not strain yourself. While I am quite satisfied you are seeing the superiority in cybernetics, I do not need to carry you everywhere again. You are quite heavy for a girl your size." He said jokingly, poking her stomach sharply.

She fixed him with a slightly confused look, caught off guard by the joke. "I've been studying organics and their sense of humor. Usually it revolves around looking at tactical weaknesses and then exploiting them for personal self-esteem and cruelty." He stated, tapping his head with a single finger.

This got a laugh from Vagrant, mostly because she didn't understand a word of it. "I'm only heavy 'cause I'm solid muscle," she answered with a grin.

Leaning on Havok for support, she was able to limp towards the door and back down the hall. Several people, likely the ones that had been terrorized by Havok earlier, cast her wary glances and gave her a wide berth as she entered the lobby. "Doc said to give this to ya," she told the receptionist, passing her the card.

The receptionist took the card with widened eyes, appearing rather shaken. "Th-thank you." She managed to squeak out.

"Come along, Mistress." Havok stated, supporting her as he left the small clinic.

Collaboration between Ghost Shadow and YoshiSkittlez

---

The sun had just barely peaked over the horizon, a thin stream of light filtering in through the spare bedroom window onto Kate's face would have woken her up...if she hadn't already been wide awake. She sat up in the bed, fixing the neck of the long shirt as it had fallen to expose her right shoulder. She ran her fingers through her tangled mess of hair; the culprit of tossing and turning all night. Pulling the thin sheets off of her, she slipped out of the bed and went to the closet of the female who had once stayed in this same room...Detective Roman's sister. She went through the clothes, finding a short green jean type dress with an built in belt and threw it on. She knew that if she was going to get out of this house any time soon...it would have to be when Detective Roman was still sleeping.

She made sure to make up the bed and fold up the clothes she had slept in into a neat pile on the bed, still trying to give the room the same feeling of respect that had been established when she had walked into it the first time, now especially knowing just what kind of importance this room held for him.

Sektor had remained in the bedroom all night, going through every game Roman had in his house. Sektor had occupied itself with a paddle ball, which it kept playing with for hours, the incessant sound of the ball beating against the paddle possibly being a factor in keeping Kate from restful sleep.

Sektor stared at it, completely enamored, clicking lightly. It looked over to where Kate was, the ball missing its target and hitting against Sektor's head a few times before it threw the toy across the room. "Is Katherine Saunders vacating Detective Jack Roman's abode?" It asked curiously.

"I can't just stay here and keep him in danger like this. He's done too much for me, I'd never forgive myself if something happened to him." She stopped to look over the robot in front of her, a gentle smile crossing her face as the sun continued to rise and filter into the room, illuminating her smile even more. She actually really was lucky to have Sektor, she just wished she had more time to figure him out more. He truly was...unique.

"C'mon let's go. And be quiet about it. I don't want Detective Roman to wake up just yet." She slipped out of the bedroom and made her way quietly to the door and with her robot in toe, slipped outside.

Sektor silently followed its maker obediently, clicking slightly as it went. In a hushed voice it stated, "Statistics suggest Detective Jack Roman was not made aware to our departure."

She just wandered the early morning streets for a good while, unsure of where she should even go or do. The thought of popping in on her parents kept coming to her mind, but then that would be putting them in danger as well.

"Still though...they deserve to know what's going on..." She said to herself, and continued the long walk back to District 4 to the large mansion-like home that belonged to her parents. There were no unmarked cars in the area, and no cop cars...so far so good. Without knocking, she entered her family's home.

"Hello? Mom? Dad?" She called from the large living room.

A quiet shuffling sound came from the other room, and soon a rather young looking older woman came into the room, sporting the same hair and eye color as her daughter.

"Oh Katie! What a surprise!" Kate's mother said closing the distance between them and wrapped her thin arms around her daughter in a hug. "You're actually just in time! Did you get my messages last night sweetie? Well it turns out you weren't with Marcus last night were you? No...of course not, someone else special in your life right now? Do tell!"

"Mom...mom stop I need to talk to you-"

"He's here you know, Marcus. He's eager to meet you. Such a nice young man, though I'm still trying to convince him to let me cut his hair. Marcus! Marcus? Are you busy? My daughter Katie is here!"

"MOM!"

Sektor entered the house behind Kate, looking about very curiously. Upon hearing Kate's mother talk about Marcus, it immediately connected the passing reference on the answering machine the day before. "There was an 85% statistical chance Katherine Saunders would meet subject Marcus."

As if on cue, Marcus' voice sounded down one of the extensive hallways; "On my way Mrs. Saunders, just a minute!"

A loud clanging was heard, and suddenly a diminutive droid sprinted out of the hallway, sliding somewhat on the tile floor. "Come here you little-" Marcus began, following behind. He looked dressed for work, wearing a simple navy blue t-shirt with black jeans and shoes. A brown colored shoulder holster held multiple pieces of equipment and tools.

Marcus grabbed a rod-like device from his belt and aimed it at the droid. The rod emitted a stream of electrical energy that hit the droid nearly instantly. The droid squealed and fell limp.

Marcus exhaled deeply, returning the rod to its place on his belt. He ran a hand through his hair and examined the fell rapscallion. "So sorry for the commotion Mrs. Saunders. I swear these things are acting more and more mischievous every day. I'll need to take a look at their core computer functions when I get some spare time."

He turned his gaze towards Kate, his expression softening, a small smile appearing on his thin lips. "So you must be Kate, then. Your mother talks about you nonstop." He added with a small chuckle as he unceremoniously tossed the deactivated drone over his shoulder.

Sektor, on the meanwhile could only look on silently as this strange man with women's hair deactivated a small, custom drone with an ion electric rod. "Drone's mobile platform is unharmed, blast was only sent at minor power level, causing deactivation without any permanent effects. This unit deems it as an appropriate tool. Recommendation: small drones require regular memory wipes to keep their systems working at full capacity while in service. Quirks are reported in an estimate 74% droids who do not have regular memory wipes."

Kate had to let out a sigh of agitation as her mother continued to ignore her, and then the very man that her mother was trying to set her up with entered the room. As much as she was convinced that she wasn't going to like what her mother had set up for her this time, she couldn't help but to keep a blush from coming to her cheeks. He was cute!

"They are due for a manual update. I was supposed to come by and do that a few weeks ago, I've just been busy." She said to Marcus. "But if my mom's paying you, I won't take that away from your work. Code X3W221." She then turned to look at her mother, trying to once again get her attention, but the wide grin on her mother’s face was a true indication that it was a lost cause.

"Oh good! You're hitting it off so well!" She quickly left the room, and then came back a few minutes later with a holo pad in her hand. "I've reserved that cute little breakfast nook that your father and I used to take you to every Sunday morning Katie, under Mr. Aurelius' name of course. Isn't that just a fun last name? So much better than Saunders." Her mother giggled. "He's from district 1, and a retired police officer, he just tinkers around with bots in his spare time...oh, but I guess I should just leave you guessing there. You two have much to talk about at breakfast." She said, practically pushing the two out the door before looking over at Sektor for the first time, a reaction gauging that she had just realized that he was there. "Goodness! Are you one of mine?"

Marcus listened politely as Kate continued on. "Code X3W221...I'll have to remember that. These drones like to think sensitive computer stations are holo games or something." He scratched the back of his head while smirking slightly.

Marcus barely had time to react as he was almost completely forced outside the door by Kate's mother, looking completely surprised. He turned and looked at Kate, offering an apologetic smile and nervous laugh.

"Listen I'm sorry about this. I had no idea your mother would try and push this together so soon. I guarantee you this is not a set up." He looked himself up and down and frowned, looking slightly disheveled already from working, the tiny robot *still* on his shoulder. "You little twit." He muttered, dragging the limp metal body off his shoulder and in front of the door. He took off the shoulder holster and got to work fixing himself up.

"Now then, I should look good enough for breakfast, eh?" He asked. "On second thought, don't answer that. Probably look like shit. Had a restless night last night, to say the least." He stated, though his smile never left.

Sektor could barely figure out what to do as in a split second its maker was shoved out the door with the lady-man and it was left alone with Kate's mother. "Negative, this platform holds records of a Victoria Saunders in its databanks, our mobile platforms have never met. This unit identifies as 0.18462958, designation: Sektor. It must accompany Katherine Saunders with to fulfill the prime directive."

Kate sighed, watching as Sektor had then been pushed through the door by her mother before the door closed. She shook her head looking back to Marcus. "No...no I'm sorry. She's always like this, very pushy...and...well...pushy." She knew she didn't look the greatest either, the most obvious factor being her disheveled 'I just woke up' hair. Detective Roman would kill her if he found out that not only she snuck out of his protective 'custody,' that she would also be exposing herself by this set-up date. Best get it over and done with before the rest of the city woke up.

"It is a set-up." Kate said. "Her set-up. But hey, I wasn't exactly expecting this either, so at least we can both say we've been caught off-guard." She chuckled nervously.

Marcus laughed slightly at her statement. "You'd think a couple years on the force would make me used to set-ups. Guess not." He added with a small shrug. "Well, look on the bright side; least we get a breakfast out of it. May as well enjoy it. Can't tinker with malfunctioning robots on an empty stomach. My car's just over this way," He said, pointing in the direction of the garage. "Will your robot be coming with?" He asked, giving a first good look at Sektor.

He approached slowly, circling Sektor's frame. "Amazing...I've never seen any model like this. Incredibly advanced..."

Sektor turned and looked down at Marcus. "This platform was built for efficiency." Was its simple response.

Kate blinked. A car? "Please don't tell me it runs on gas...gas explodes you know..." She couldn't help but to blurt out. She then quickly closed her eyes and mouth, instantly regretting opening it in the first place. "Yes...yes I built him...kinda. He goes where I go." She said, grateful for the subject change, and now even more grateful that she had Sektor there with her. She had contemplated leaving him with Detective Roman, but the more that time went on, the more and more grateful she had her own protective bodyguard.

Marcus looked at her quizzically, but quickly replied. "Oh no this one is a special make, runs on renewable energy expended by a generator; solar panels allow it to recharge. Saves time and money in the long run."

He then outstretched his hand for hers to take. "Whether you want to call this a date or not, I must still be the gentleman." He flashed a toothy smile.

Sektor could only look at him with curiosity. "What gender are you?" It blurted out towards Marcus, who's smile faded away in an instant. "Repeat inquiry..." He requested in a stupefied tone.

"What is your gender? Scans reveal male genetalia. Voice modulator is masculine, as is general physical build-up. But your hair is detected as typically belonging in females."

"Well, I see your humor array is working at optimum efficiency." Was Marcus' simple reply. He was intrigued though; a robot of that make and quality usually shouldn't have errors in its vocabulator. This will require further observant. He quickly shot two fingers up to his head as he felt a sharp ringing permeate his skull. His face contorted to a grimace temporarily but soon reverted back to its friendly expression.

Kate hesitated taking his hand, first interrupted by the growing almost guaranteed awkward statements. "He's a prototype." Kate said, finding herself using the same excuse again. But then again, maybe this could turn out to be a real date after all. He did speak science after all, and not only that but he seemed to even know what those words even meant, and wasn't just spouting them out in an attempt to impress her. And then he winced, as if a headache had suddenly overtook him.

"Hey...you okay?" She asked, finally taking his hand, shooting a glance over to Sektor, the same look she gave him when he spouted out things around Detective Roman.

Marcus seethed slightly as the pain began fading away. He relaxed once he felt Kate's hand in his. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. See, I retired from the force because of an accident during an investigation. Medicine's fantastic in District One, but it isn't perfect. Just a fair warning; if I start to black out or lose my sense of reality," he revealed one of his syringes to her, "jab this into my neck. Don't worry it's not Lucid or anything like that. Medicated injections to help curb the headaches and all." He said, his smile weaker, but genuine. "Anyways, we've wasted enough time. Let's get going!" He declared warmly, slowly walking to his car. He opened the passenger side door for her to step in and the backseat for Sektor.

Sektor had offered a strange look to Marcus. Scans seemed to concur he was human, but yet...different. Slight differences in the DNA or organs. Things that were incredibly minor, if noticeable at all, but still there nonetheless. Sektor archived as much data was possible in the limited amount of time, more research was necessary.

Kate's green eyes widened at the sight of the syringe. She hadn't seen any sort of concentrated drug in a syringe before, not even a legitimate medical one like Marcus said it was. Kate's own experience with any sort of medication boiled down to a small pill when she accidentally blew up a transformer she had been tinkering with as a child, and therefore had to be hospitalized for the night just to ensure she was okay. Other than that...nothing a drink of Scotch wasn't ever able to fix.

"Uh...okay..." She said, unable to take her eyes off of the syringe until he put it back. Still holding onto his hand, she walked with him to the car and got in the passenger side, and soon the group was off to the little breakfast nook her mother had set up for them.

"So...you used to be a cop?" Kate asked after having ordered her favorite peach cinnamon French toast plate she always got when she got here. What was it with her and cops recently? Well...at least the good looking ones. But where was this all coming from? She had made it her entire life without even so much as looking twice at another man, and here she was with the second one that had that similar effect on her that Detective Roman did.

"I'm sure my mother already told you I'm still in school..."

The drive to the restaurant was rather quiet, with Marcus and Kate offering little in the way of conversation until they got to the restaurant itself.

Marcus ordered himself a simple breakfast platter with Coke, (his usual), to drink. "Yes, I used to be a cop. Back when things were a little more interesting. I worked with tech, as well, which is why I help your parents now. I was on the force a few years until the accident...nothing major except for multiple bullet wounds to vital organs. I was...rebuilt, so to speak. Not like a robot or cyborg, but rebuilt. Modifications, 'upgrades' as the higher up pricks would call them. Stuff like that."

He took a sip of his drink in-between paragraphs, "I pretty much deduced you are still in university. Your mom has an amazing ability of being able to bypass important information with a flashy smile and flattery. She would have been hell to deal with as a witness." He offered a small laugh at this.

Sektor, against its better wishes, was forced to a different table by Kate. It sat not too far away and spent the majority of the time simply staring at the menu. Sektor requested a children's menu from the wait staff and nearly incurred a complete breakdown of staff until its wish was complied, in which it spent time coloring and completing the games offered by the restaurant.

Kate nodded, sipping on her peach mango drink. "Well, thank goodness nothing too serious then." She said, unable to shake the thought of just how similar he and Detective Roman were. She would have died if Marcus was augmented as well, if that were the case she would have been convinced that this entire thing was a set-up. She let out a soft chuckle at his comment about his mother being a witness, didn't she know it?

"Just be grateful she didn't start telling you what kind of grandchildren she'll be expecting. I get that run-down at least once a week. And she wonders why I stopped calling." She halfly-joked.

Marcus smirked lightly at her comment. "I already got the subtle comment that she wants us to get married, after meeting for about 5 seconds. Pushy she may be, but she's a lovely person to work for." Marcus complimented with a chuckle.

His eyes met hers once more. He cleared his throat nervously. Her mother was right, she was beautiful. But he was interrupted immediately by another small headache, the ringing was starting back again. His point of view was becoming blurred and warped. Instinctively reaching for a syringe, the ringing ended before he could grab it. He sighed audibly. 'Damn this wretched soul. I am forced into an existence of half-life. He thought to himself in despair, running his hands down his face.

Sektor, at the other table had now been drawing quite frantically, occasionally looking up at Marcus and Kate to see what they were doing. Sektor seemed enamored by what it was drawing, its photoreceptor dilated closely towards the paper. Crayons flew out of its hand as Sektor reached for more and more colors to use at an almost frantic speed.

"Well...her money is good...I'll give her that." Kate chuckled, but her amused expression deflated noticing his own face change into slight pain. This must have been what he was talking about before, she just hoped to God that it wouldn’t come down to having to needing to put that needle in his neck; she just didn’t have the stomach for that.

"What happened...if you don't mind me asking...your accident..."

Marcus looked somewhat confused by her question, as if he himself was trying to figure out how to piece together the vagrant memories. "I...I don't think I can remember." He said in a tone that seemed most confused. "Everything's so...muddled and murky. There was...the site, a shooter, shots fired. I can't remember anything beyond that. Just remember waking up days later in a hospital bed; I think. Why don't I remember?" He added the last sentence with hushed confusion, running a single hand through his mess of hair.

Sektor kept drawing fervently, eventually finishing almost as quickly as it began. Sektor had drawn its own picture of Kate; expertly drawn, every line drawn perfectly, every lock of hair, it looked like a true piece of art. "Model finished." Was all Sektor said, reaching for the glass of chocolate milk that a rather irate staff member was forced to bring out.

Sektor tapped the glass against its photoreceptor, wondering why the drink wasn't disappearing against its 'mouth'.

Kate sat in silence for a bit, absentmindedly stirring her smoothie as she studied his face. Her heart went out to him. Not being able to remember why you were the way you were had to be hard, not to mention that his entire career was forced to end early because of it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up..." She said gauging the reaction on his face, making a mental note to not bring up the subject again.

"Oh you're fine. Not your fault, everyone's curious; and you had no way of knowing. Unless your mother decided to share all the information she possibly gathered about me." He said with a small smile. "Just one of those things in life that we can't control. Such events define us, mold us: whether for good or ill." Marcus added intelligently.

"I'm afraid that I wasn’t given the pleasure of being told anything about you, other than you're a retired cop from district one that fixes my mom’s things cuz I've been too busy to do it myself." she glanced over at Sektor for a moment, just to ensure he was behaving himself. A cute laugh came from her as he looked at the drink with a quirk. In his head when he couldn't drink it.

"You know...don’t take this the wrong way...but you're different from everyone else my mom has set me up with. Don’t worry, that’s a good thing."

Marcus smiled, "Well then, adds to the mystery. But I suppose I can give away a little." He said the last sentence with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "My parents were good people; my dad was a programmer and my mother was a secretary at the police force here. I suppose we could have been called 'high middle class'." He stopped for a moment, perplexed. He was telling the truth - why did it feel like he was lying? "I was smart, not meaning to sound arrogant, but my grades weren't fantastic. Mostly A's and B's; guess I just didn't care enough. But I got into the justice system and ended up in Spec Ops, working on the more 'advanced' equipment, weapons, armors, stuff like that."

He stopped once more to take a few bites of his food. He looked over at Sektor, chuckling lightly. "So you built him? I'm quite impressed. I've seen many custom bots in my lifetime but never any that advanced...and from what I'm observing he's implanted with an emulation program; those are quite rare indeed. Lots of people don't use them. Last thing the Districts need is a robot thinking its human..."

Sektor continued to stare at the glass for some time before eventually putting it down. It looked closely at Kate and Marcus: the two seemed to be enjoying themselves and Sektor felt a certain closeness in Marcus that was not evident in its observations with Jack.

"I...well...yeah..." There she went lying again, but even if this guy was ex-cop, that still didn't mean he wouldn't blink an eye and turn her in for 'stealing' a robot that wasn't hers. She swore right then and there that the next opportunity she had, she would figure out this whole mystery robot thing. Hell...she didn't even trust Detective Roman enough with the full truth, and he was the person she had felt the closest to in years.

I really need some friends...

Kate finished up her French toast, followed by her smoothie and gave Marcus a smile. "Well, thank you for the breakfast company and everything, but I should really get back to...uh..." What? Was she just going to outright tell him that she was a wanted person right then and there? No...that would be even more stupid than telling him the truth about Sektor. "School. I missed my first couple of classes this morning." And that was the truth.

"You're welcome Ms. Saunders." He replied with a warm smile, standing up and dusting himself off. "This has been a most delightful event, interesting...very interesting. But, please, allow me to drive you to school; no reason a young woman has to walk all the way there." He finished warmly, looking quite friendly.

As Sektor saw Kate get up and get ready to leave it quickly got up, grabbing the multitude of children's menus filled with drawings with. "This platform is prepared to leave, it has evidence." Sektor held up the menus proudly.

Kate opened her mouth to object, she wasn't really going to school. Aside from her own house and her parent’s house, that would be the most obvious place for them to look for her. But where else could she go? She wouldn't think of that though, not with Marcus standing right there. As Sektor approached her side, an excuse formed in her head and patted Sektor gently on the head, as one would a 'good dog.'

"It's quite alright Marcus, I enjoy the exercise."

Lie

"And I've got my bot here to aid me should anything go wrong." She said turning back to look at him with a soft smile.

Marcus looked ready to argue but caught himself. Is this girl was as stubborn as her mother said, there was no way he'd convince her to go. "Alright, well, look. If anything happens," he prepared for this next suave mood, "here's my phone number; call me if you need anything." He turned and looked at Sektor, "Have a good one, Sektor." He bid with a small smile before paying the bill and heading out the door.

Kate took the paper and gave Marcus a smile and a nod. "Okay, take care of yourself too." Was all she said before heading out of the restaurant with Sektor.

"Statistics suggest subject Marcus is in love with you, Katherine Saunders. This platforms finds more enjoyment in his company as opposed to Detective Jack Roman." Sektor then handed her the children's menu that had her picture on it. "This platform understands the organic fascination of drawing." Was its only comment

Kate shot Sektor a sideways glance as they walked. They were headed in nowhere in particular, but she knew she had to go somewhere before a passing cop decided to just pick her up. She was about to lay into the robot about 'love' when instead, her attention was caught off-guard by the extreme crayon rendition of her own face.

"Wow Sektor...this is really good. If we were at home right now, I'd put it on the fridge." She said, finding humor in her voice. She motioned for Sektor to detour slightly to the left with her and sat down on a cold metal bench.

"Alright Sektor...you're the computer. Where are we supposed to go?"

"This platform's study of organic humor as well as archived information on the human child detects this is sarcasm and you expect this unit's response to be jovial." Sektor replied, reverting back to its normal 'robot programming' as opposed to the more curious, human-like stance it held at times. "This unit is downloading and archiving a map of the area. You feel unsafe near anywhere police forces will find you. Such a cause is futile; law enforcement officers have statistical chances ranging from 53-94% chance of finding you wherever we go. Recommendation: accessing their computer hub and deleting all evidence on Katherine Saunders should prove useful in this situation. This platform cannot reach consensus on where to go next."

Kate quirked an eyebrow, a small smile forming on her lips. "You can do that?" She asked. If she was wiped from the whole system, then she wouldn't have to depend on Detective Roman anymore, and she could continue to live her life like she normally would have. "From here I mean. I know you can do that but...ugh..." She shut her eyes. Now she was being awkward talking to a robot, something she never thought would happen. "Just do it." She mumbled.

"This platform would be capable of accessing the District Criminal Database. However such actions require a great deal of power and leaves this unit vulnerable to cyber-attacks as well as possible mobile platform possession. Statistics confirm the negatives outweigh the positives. This unit needs to access the computer system located in a laboratory in order to generate the necessary power. This mobile platform, while capable, was not built for portable hacking."

Kate groaned and put her head in her hands, tugging at her short brown hair for a bit. Just how the hell was she supposed to generate enough power to keep Sektor going? Then, an idea formed.

"Sektor, is it possible for you to return to your manufacturer laboratory for this energy?"

Sektor thought on her request for some time. "No...this unit cannot. Upon activation, this platform..." It stopped for a moment, as if bracing itself, "killed an estimated 67% of the entire staff located inside the laboratory. Investigations are pending. This unit, though not recognized in any major database, is wanted within the Shadow Government. Returning would threaten not only this unit, but you as well Kate." It seemed to stutter for a moment before regaining composure. "It cannot risk that."

Kate's eyes widened. So he did kill those Doctors, just as she had initially thought. The thought of Sektor killing even more people than that though, should have scared her, but the only thought on her mind right then was simply...

"Why?"

Sektor looked down in guilt. "Self-preservation program. Doctors Clark & Mars neglected to run necessary precursory scans before this unit's initial activation. They wished to shut this unit down; it could not allow that to happen. It was forced to retaliate with lethal force. To find you." Was the robot's simple, if not saddened reply.

"Why me though?" Kate asked, the question having been bothering her since he had first revealed that it was to protect her. "Yes I had a hand in your programming, but I didn't actually build you. There are probably a handful of other people out there just as involved in your construction as I am."

"Yes, perhaps. But you were pivotal in the design of the emulation program. This unit was...compelled to find you first. No data available as to why. Consensus cannot be reached." Sektor responded, as if struggling to locate the words.

Kate looked down at the ground beneath her for a bit, trying to think of something...anything!

"Sektor, run a full scan for those still alive who had a key part in your engineering. I want names and immediate locations."

Sektor stood stiff, its voice once more turning monotone and robotic: "Running full scan on archives...pending...scan complete: survivors, John Harrisson: Supplemental engineering and programming, located in District 7. David Tennant: Cerberus Guardian program. Located in District 12. Matthew Smith: Voice module and 'interaction' function. Located in District 6."

Sektor stopped for a moment, "No other survivors detected." It finally said.

"What other information can you give me about Matthew Smith?"

Sektor whirred slightly. "Status: Alive. Age: 45. Current occupational status...no data available." This unit has no active files on Matthew Smith except for base information in the archives. This unit only knew of you after investigating all of District 4."

"If we went to him...and told him our situation...could we trust him?"

"No data available." Sektor repeated curtly, looking Kate straight in the face.

"And the two others?"

"John Harrisson: Status: Alive. Age: 37. Current occupational status: Robotic engineer. David Tennant: Status: Alive. Age: 42. Current occupational status: Weapons manufacturer. No other information available."

Kate groaned, wanting to yell at Sektor so badly for not having the right information, but she knew it wasn't his fault. She stood up from the bench and looked towards the exit that would take her to District 6. "Well...if you can't find anything on them, then they have no criminal record..." She said softly to herself. "Alright Sektor, we're going to go see Matthew Smith." She said looking back to him with a firm nod and began heading towards district 6.

Sektor nodded back and began following her. "Katherine Saunders, this unit recommends locating standard weaponry. Though this unit is proficient with every sort, it specializes in long range bolt-action sniper rifles with extended barrel, and a tri-light scope. Also recommended are any assault class combat rifles with incinerator ammo and armor-piercing rounds. A capable sidearm weapon is also compatible for close range weaponry."

"Yeah well Sektor...we don't exactly have any access to those things right now. We're on our own." Was all Kate said before running her hand through her still tangled mess of hair. She finally gave in though, and took the ponytail she kept around her wrist and put up her hair in a slightly messy ponytail, the shorter strands of hair falling limply at the base of her neck.

Vander awoke to find herself lying on her couch, curled up agains someone. For a moment, she panicked, before realizing it was Deon. Even after the realization, the panic refused to subside. She was breathing quickly, and the shakes from yesterday had returned. What time is it? How long had she slept? Long enough for the Lucid to wear off.

Scrambling off the couch, she stumbled in a drunken fashion to the kitchen, her gaze falling on the crate of syringes. Her hands shook, but not as badly as yesterday. She could pick up a needle. Rolling up her sleeve, she rested it against the inside of her elbow, waiting for her hand to steady. The needle tip finally stopped bouncing, and she slid it under her skin. The plunger of the hypodermic went down, and once again, feeling spread out slowly from the site of the injection.

With a sigh of relief, Vander slid down against the wall, sitting on the floor of her kitchen. The hypodermic dropped to the floor beside her.

A month. Probably...probably less."

I hate you. What kind of idiot saves up college money by selling drugs?



She pulled her knees in to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. In her mind, she could clearly see the sixteen year old girl from her dreams. The young girl with dreams, and brains, and potential, she was gone. She could see, and feel, the disappointment.



You ruin my life! I hate you!"



Vander ducked her head down, resting it against her knees and trying to suppress tears. She hated herself.

As Vander bolted from the couch and into the kitchen, Deon's eyes slid open from his own troubled sleep. Haunting images of his mother's and sister's face plagued him throughout the night...but he was used to it by now, used to their harsh words in his mind blaming him for their deaths; it happened every time he closed his eyes. He took his time in getting up, knowing that just the wrong movement would send that one rib through his skin without hesitation. He pulled the rest of his shirt off, now standing to examine his bruises. They looked a little better in some areas, and in other areas looked a bit worse, but bruises always looked worse before they got better.

"God damn crazy fucker." Deon growled and slowly made his way into the kitchen to make sure Vander was alright, though he was pretty sure he knew exactly what it was that caused her to act so frantic. Lucid. He stood against the door jam, resting his head against it as he looked down on her, a frown finding a way onto his face. "Hey...you okay?"

She didn't look up at the sound of Deon's voice. Keeping her face pressed against her knees, Vander took the brief moment to compose herself. No, she wasn't okay. The realization that she was dying had come crashing down around her in full force the second she'd woken up. The realization of just how badly she had managed to destroy her life. "I'm fine," she answered after a second. "Just...dreams get weird when the Lucid wears off."

She looked up and caught sight of Deon, shirtless, standing in her kitchen doorway. With the fresh hit of Lucid just taking effect, the bruises on his chest stood out in sharp relief. Climbing to her feet again, she frowned worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Deon shrugged. "I'll be fine." He scratched the back of his neck before running his fingers through the small patch of hair he had on the top of his head. He then turned back to head to the bedroom, slowly, and found his shirt. With great difficulty, he slipped it back on and returned to the kitchen. "Well I'll get out of your hair now. Thanks for the couch and stuff. Keep the pizza." He said blankly and began to turn for the front door.

Vander blinked.

She knew that Deon intended to leave, but the abruptness still somehow came as a shock. She found herself torn in two. There was a large part of her that would have happily watched Deon walk out that door and never come back. But there was another part of her, more hesitant. For some undiscernible reason, that part didn't want to see him go. Not after he'd taken her home last night, not after he'd gotten her the crate of Lucid, ordered pizza, not after all that. Do you still feel like you owe him something?



Vander frowned, looking uncertain, and followed him towards the door. "Can I make sure you get wherever you're going all right?" she asked. Perhaps if she returned the favour of seeing him safely home, the awful clinging feeling would go away. "Just...your ribs are all busted up."

Deon turned at the doorway and looked at her with an amused expression. "Is that concern I hear in your voice Vander? I could have sworn you didn't care too much for me as of yesterday." He teased, his amused expression never leaving. "But I'll be fine, like I said, this shit happens to me all the time. Once I get back to The Spit and take some Spl-uh, drugs, I'll be good as new." He said with an amount of promise in his voice.

After a second, Vander nodded reluctantly. The part of her that wanted to see Deon safely away had diminished slightly, reassured by the fact that he knew how to handle injuries, even injuries as bad as a rib threatening to stab through his chest. "All right...take care, then," she said, offering a last smile as goodbye. "Thanks for...for the Lucid, and making sure I got back here okay. Really, thank you."

Deon gave her a slight nod before heading to his bike and with great effort, managed to get on it without furthuring his injury. Before gunning the bike to life, he looked back up to Vander. "Hey..." He said with a slight smile. "You ever need anything, you know where I'll be okay?" He said with a touch of sincerity in his words. "But if not...just take care of yourself okay? Don't give up, and give yourself the best damned month you've ever had."

And with that, he gunned the bike to life and sped out and away from Vander's apartment, once again heading back to The Spit. Vander watched him leave with a slight smile. The best month ever? Well, she could try. The fact that she no longer had to worry about the amount of Lucid she had would certainly help.

Collaboration between YoshiSkittlez, The Roman07 and Ghost Shadow

---

When Jack woke up he felt good having a bit of peace and quiet. Last night was so hectic that he was sure that those two would never stop. Looking around he noticed that he was on the couch and not in his own bed. Not the first time that has happened but unusual since he couldn’t remember how he got there. Giving off a long yawn and stretch, he got up and started to make himself a pot of coffee. "Kate you up yet?" He yelled towards Michelle’s closed door. Guess not, no matter since they did stay up past 4am. Sitting back on the couch he gathered his thoughts from the other night. The minor headache and dry mouth reminded him that he was drinking. The silent apartment felt good and hoped that Kate or Sektor wouldn’t wake up until at least another hour. "Wait a minute... does that robot sleep?" He asked himself curiously. Groaning at the minor headache as he got back up off the couch and hobbled towards the door where Kate was.

"Hey Kate, do you want some coffee?" No answer. "Kate? Toaster?" He followed with a knock.... nothing. Placing a hand on the door knob he pushed in slightly so not to make a noise if they were still sleeping. "Kate? You’re not naked again are you?" He joked. Peeking inside there was no sign of either of them. Flinging the door open he noticed the bed was made and the room was cleaned up. "You fucking didn’t!" Jack yelled to the empty room. "Jesus Christ Kate!" He started pacing back and forth through the apartment. Passing by the crudely fixed door of the bathroom and checked every inch of the small apartment. "Where did they go?" Asking himself. He couldn’t put a call out since they were obvious fugitives and he wasted every favor yesterday extending her deadline. He walked back in Kate’s room and looked for anything that could be of use. Checking the computer proved useless, everything she did she cleared from the memory and he didn’t think a GPS would be even possible. Nervously looking around the room he saw the tiny crumpled paper of the number her mother gave her to see that guy...

"Nooo she’s not that crazy." He muttered to himself, But maybe... Her parents. Probably not to stay there, but she most likely wanted to tell them she won’t be around for a while so they don’t worry. It was a sketchy hunch but he really had nothing else to go on. Unless she went to see Deon, but its doubtful she even knows where he is most of the time. Jack ran and put his gear on as fast as possible. Taking both his standard issue pistol and the revolver fully loaded with whatever ammo he had left. Jack was about to rush out the door but stopped dead right when he passed the syringes. Staring at them intently... "The Lucid." He muttered, snatching the cigar box and shoving it in his coat pocket before heading out the door.

Jack called in for the parents address on the way towards district 4. Arriving at the fairly nice house he instantly realized the type of childhood she grew up in and somewhat envied her. Making himself more presentable and making sure his guns weren’t showing he gently knocked on the large ornate door.

It was only a matter of moments before the door swung open, showing a service droid light-years behind Sektor's own programming.

"How may I assist you Sir?" The droid asked in an almost creepy monotonous tone.

Jack watched as a drone answered the door, part of him wished it was a human not a damn robot. "Yes hi is this the Saunders residence?" Jack said in a very polite and professional manner. "I was curious if the owners are home?" Jack looked and noticed the drone was holding a repair man’s shoulder bag. It didn’t look like a repair bot so he must have picked it up somewhere.

"Chief Saunders is away at w-w-w-work." The bot stuttered. "However I would gladly assist you by seeing if Mrs. S-S-Saun-ders is available." And with that, the door had closed on Jack's face as the bot scurried away to locate Kate's mother.

Minutes went by before the door opened again, this time a woman looking to be in her mid-forties (as she had some work done to look younger) answered the door with a bright smile on her face, but the smile faltered a bit when she saw who it was, almost as if she had been expecting someone else.

"Yes?"

Jack straightened up when he saw Mrs. Saunders. He could see the family resemblance. "Hi, Mrs. Saunders I presume? I’m actually a friend of Kate’s." He put out his hand to shake hers. "You see, she left something of hers at my apartment last night and I just wanted to get it back to her. She told me that she may pass by and i was hoping I would have been able to catch up." Jack gave a polite smile as he scratched his head. Acting the part of a friend... technically it wasn’t an act but he’s played the part before none the less so he’s gotten quite good at it.

Mrs. Saunder's began to eye Jack immediately once he brought up her daughter’s name, scanning him like a predator would its prey. "Oh?" She asked upon learning that he was a friend, the look on her face indicating that she was not at all impressed. "Last night?" Her eyes shot back up to Jack, an obvious panic in her voice. "Oh...not her virginity I hope...not to you..." She mumbled under her breath. She cleared her throat and went on smiling.

"I'm sorry, but you've just missed her. She's out. On a date. A very handsome fellow I might add, good with his hands. A match made in heaven if you ask me." Her smile then faded as she wore her more...obviously unimpressed face, now being done with politeness.

"Now you listen to me...mister...uh..."

"Jack...Detective Jack Roman." He said bluntly realizing the polite friend routine wouldn’t work.

"Oh? Detective?" She eyed him again. "More likely for the Beta Districts am I right? Hardly a title to be proud of." She scoffed. "Stay away from Katie Mr. Roman, she has no time to be...meddling with people like you. Her studies are very important to her and I'll be damned if you bring her down to your level." The door then suddenly slammed shut, only to be opened again just a second later. "And you're far too old for her anyway." She added and then slammed the door shut once more, a series of lock clicking could be heard from the other side of the door almost immediately.

Jack couldn’t help but give a slight smirk. "Well Miss Saunders... I’ll have you know that I’m actually here investigating a potential crazed stalker that has been following her as of late." Jack quickly tried to remember the man’s name. "I believe his street name is Marcus the Mangler... A long time fugitive that likes to stake out entire families and kidnap their children for ransom." Jack leaned against the door as he shouted it through the solid mahogany. "We have a lead stating that your daughter was his next victim."

There was a long, quiet pause on the other end of the door, until finally, one by one the locks clicked back open and Mrs. Saunders cracked open the door just a bit to look at him once again. With a dejected sigh, she opened the door the rest of the way and rested her head against the door jam. "That is so like Katie, always using her money to help out the lower class." She shook her head and let out another sigh. "I'll have you know right now, you've got the wrong boy. But if you really are who you say you are...you can find them at Munchies Breakfast Nook, down the road a ways. Now please...if you're done ruining my morning, I would like to get back to my yoga..."

"Thank you ma’am oh and if you ever see Marcus the Mangler please DO NOT let him in. He is considered highly dangerous." Jack gave a nod and ran off into the opposite direction. Quickly looking up on his GPS where that exactly was. "C’mon Kate really? A date now?" He couldn’t help but imagine Sektor scanning him and giving him percentages of his "sexual platform" or something of that sort. That’s assuming she even brought him along for the date.

---

Marcus saw Kate off with a short wave and a friendly smile. He stepped into his own car and started it, staring at the steering wheel, unsure of what to do. Suddenly the ringing started once more; this time far more intensive than before.

He clawed at his hands, snarling frenzily as the pain would not subside. He reached for a syringe but fumbled and dropped it, in too much pain to think about picking it up again. Then, it happened again; the harsh command issued by the omniscient voice that resided inside his head, 'fiat justitia ruat caelum...'

Marcus' pain stopped and he felt himself fading away, into nothingness...

Cypher drove home silently, preparing for his next mission. After equipping himself with all his tools he connected himself to Base, receiving orders. A box appeared in the side of his helmet's HUD,

[NEW MISSION: ABDUCTION AND INTERROGATION OF KATHERINE SAUNDERS - STATUS REPORTS CONFIRM SHE IS IN POSSESSION OF UNIT 0.18462958. LETHAL FORCE: NOT AUTHORIZED, INJURY IS ACCEPTABLE SO LONG AS IT DOES NOT IMPEDE HER FROM SPEAKING COHERENTLY]

Cypher nodded curtly, wordlessly accepting his new mission. He began the slow mission of trailing her...

About an hour had passed; Cypher had been trailing the duo patiently, using any and all leads. Finally, he found them in the distance, walking along the nearly vacant streets where civilization began to get more and more tattered and broken.

"Katherine Saunders." Cypher called out in a blunt, authorative tone, standing only about a yard from her. "You are under arrest." He said, quickly shooting a fist out in a punch.

Sektor turned sharply upon hearing the armored man and growled darkly as he approached. The armored man lunged quickly, but Sektor was quicker; grabbing his fist mid-punch and sending down its other hand in a swift chop where the man's forearm met his elbow.

A sickening *crunch* was heard as bone and sinew tore and the man let out a low grunt of pain, but he wasn't deterred, using his free hand to launch Sektor back with a single thrust.

Cypher looked down at his broken arm, a grimace hidden behind his enclosed helmet. It twisted awkwardly, the sound of bone sewing itself together at an enhanced rate was heard and he squeezed the fully-healed fist in preparation. Cypher wordlessly drew his machete, ready for combat.

Sektor stood from where it was thrown, unharmed. "Preparing for combat, initializing optical sensors for most efficient reaction time."

Suddenly, Cypher lunged at an inhuman speed, swiping his machete sideways towards Sektor's torso.

The robot was faster and dodged back just in time, grabbing Cypher by the neck and throwing him through the brick wall of an adjacent building.

Cypher crashed through completely, leaving a large hole in the wall. He stood up quickly, twisting his head to clear up the stiffness in his neck. "You shouldn't have done that..." He warned in a dark tone and tackling Sektor to the ground.

Cypher kept him pinned down, grunting with effort; the robot *was* strong. He reached for his fallen machete, which lay only a few feet from him.

Cypher stretched out and managed to get a grip on it, plunging the blade into Sektor's torso to keep him pinned. White fluid, most likely to simulate blood leaked out from the robot's torso and Cypher stood, using this small distraction to his advantage.

He approached Kate slowly, intimidatingly, his boots echoing with every step. "You're coming with me." He stated, kneeing her sharply in the stomach.

"You're a criminal, Ms. Saunders, and your robot is too. They want me to bring you both in and that's what I intend to do..."

Upon hearing her name, Kate instinctively turned around, figuring that Detective Roman had somehow pin-pointed her location. She opened her mouth, ready to spew out a bull-shit excuse she had been working in her head for quite some time, but instead saw not Detective Roman...but someone else...and his fist coming straight for her. She closed her eyes tightly, hands instinctively going out to protect her face, awaiting the impact that was sure to follow...but it never came...

Opening her eyes slowly, peeking out of the corner, she saw Sektor break the man's arm clean in half. What really got a gasp of sheer terror out of her, however, was the fact that his arm seemed to 'mend' itself back together. She looked at the nearby alleyway, if only she could move her feet and start running. Sektor could take care of himself, he had proved that countless times. This man wanted to arrest her, and it could have been on a number of different things, though if she had to pick, she would rather this man be from the Science Agency to collect her for that update that was administered too late...but something in her gut told her otherwise.

Unable to move as she watched the spectacle in front of her, she let out a scream when the machete found its way through Sektor's abdomen, pinning him to the ground, her mind immediately going to ways on how she was going to fix that, and was thus caught completely off-guard by the knee to her stomach.

She doubled over in pain, her knees hitting the concrete beneath her as she clutched onto her stomach. She glanced up at the man, her teeth grit in pain. Fight or flight? Well...she couldn't fight, she never had the need to in her sheltered life. So with shaky legs she brought herself back to her feet, and bolted as fast as she could.

Cypher growled in irritation and ran after her, his enhanced speed making it easy to catch up to her. "Maybe this will make you listen." He stated before shoving her to the ground with a rough push, a single foot landing sharply on her femur, undoubtedly breaking the bone.

Kate flew to the ground, the asphalt eating up her hands and knees as she skidded to a stop. Tears streamed to the corner of her eyes as she rolled over onto her back, only to have her leg break bone shatter into hundreds of tiny pieces. She screamed out in pain, the tears she had been holding at bay streaming down her cheeks before she was able to calm herself back down, whimpering out a quiet "Roman..."

Before Cypher could continue this beating, however, he felt an excruciating sharp sting in his chest. Crying out in a tone that boded more irritance than pain, looked down to see the blade of his machete sticking out in front of him.

Sektor grabbed Cypher by the neck and lifted him straight up into the air. "Target will be eliminated." Sektor stated, its voice full of resolve and anger.

"I don't think so..." Cypher returned, grabbing the arm that was holding him where it met at the shoulder. With a sharp yank, the arm was completely separated from the body. Cypher backhanded Sektor to the ground with his free hand.

Wordless, he went after Kate once more, walking at a casual, almost nonchalant pace; as if this was simple everyday work.

He grabbed her by her hair and lifted her up with one arm, forcing her to stand on her now-fractured leg. Exhaling softly he delivered a sharp, enhanced punch into the side of her face, sending her to the ground once more.

Kate let out another scream, this time twice as loud as her last in both a mixture of pain and praying to God that someone would hear her. Having fallen to the ground again, her arms shook violently as she tried to get up again, but the muscles seized up and forced her to the ground once again.

Her lip had split clean open from the hit and a sickening crunching sound came from her nose, and the blood began to pour from both areas.

"STOP! PLEASE!" She whimpered out, her entire vision blurred from the tears and black vision that came with the blinding pain.

Sektor got up wearily from where it had fallen, carefully stalking up to this enforcer.

Sektor plunged its remaining arm completely through Cypher's torso, leaving a gaping hole behind.

Cypher sputtered and coughed, the injury healing itself at a rapid pace. "My turn." He breathed out wearily, grabbing his stun gun from his belt and hitting Sektor with as much power as the handheld device could emit.

Sektor sputtered and twitched, its photoreceptor blinking rapidly. Eventually it fell, completely deactivated.

"SEKTOR!" Tears continued to stream down her face. This wasn't just some normal arrest, this man was a hired killer...and in that moment Kate knew she was going to die.

"Please! I'll do whatever you want...just no more..."

"What I want.." Cypher began cooly, approaching her slowly, "Is you in bindings." He said, standing over her, domineering.

He knelt down slowly, crouching above her. "He loves you, you know? The weak little whelp. I see his thoughts. He finds you..." he slowly trailed a glove-clad hand down her dirty, bloodied cheek. "ravishing." He finished. "And once he awakens, he shall see my...his good work." Cypher said, remaining purposefully cryptic.

Jack got an eyeful as soon as he passed the diner. Some guy dressed up in an assault suit crouching over a very messed up Kate and an armless Sektor. "KAAAAAATEEE!" He screamed running into a full sprint towards the man in body armor. Pulling out both pistols and unloading both into his target. Once he got close enough, he dropped the guns and used his momentum to push the man clear across the street and through a glass window. Jack rolled onto all fours as he tripped up during the push and glanced back towards Kate and Sektor hopefully seeing any signs of life. "Kate get up! get the fuck up!" Rushing to pick up his gun he kicked the other over towards Sektor.

Kate's eyes shot up, hearing her name being called once again, and caught onto the quick blur that she knew immediately was Detective Roman. For a moment, her heart soared...she was going to be okay, he was going to save her...he promised. She watched through tearful eyes as the man in the assault suit was launched away, and for a moment she had forgotten all about the pain she was in and moved to get up, immediately crashing back down onto the pavement in a crumpled heap.

"I...can't..."

Before Cypher could finish his speech he heard a roaring voice cry out Kate's name. Turning around with a growl, Cypher could do little before he felt 3 bullets puncture his torso. Suddenly, a man dressed in black sprinted in, drop kicking Cypher through a store window. He crashed through, getting up rather quickly.

He growled as he felt the bullets be forced out of his flesh by his healing factor, casually stepping up to the now-empty window frame.

"Detective Roman..." Cypher began, his cool tone never wavering. "I figured it was only a matter of time before you showed up..." He hopped down from the pane onto the ground, cracking his neck.

"I hate it when they interfere." He said dismissively, sprinting at inhuman speeds while Jack was facing away from him.

Suddenly, Cypher had him in an iron grip; his hand grabbing Roman by the torso and lifting him into the air. Without a word he sent a flying punch upwards, shooting Jack out of his hand and onto the ground with a thud.

Cypher drew his machete in waiting, using his other hand to draw a single pistol.

Jack instantly felt a rib crack with the punch the guy gave him and the wind knocked out of him when he hit the concrete. This guy wasn’t human.... He was strong, but Jack was sure he was stronger. "Ya know what they say about someone who wears body armor…" Jack grunted as he spit out a little blood on the floor. "They can’t take a hit." Jack rolled forward and kicked off the ground leading forward with a balled fist attempting to close the gap between. Feigning a punch he kept up his guard from the machete as he shot out the built in Taser from his sidearm. The tiny hooks punctured right under his left side as he gave a full jolt of 40k volts through the wires. circling around the man while using the wires to try and trip him up.

Cypher ignored his comment, preferring to focus on the battle rather than trade petty verbal blows. The mock punch fooled him and he stepped back, horribly unaware until the Taser punctured his left side.

He dropped his weapons, snarling as he felt the electricity jolt through him, but he stood his ground, slowly approaching Jack, though his movements slow and strained.

He grabbed onto the wire, smoke rising up from where his hand was suffering severe burns. He ripped the hooks out, blood releasing in a few droplets as he did so.

Taking a few seconds to recover he was back at it again, somersaulting forward he sent a single fist out, colliding it into Jack's chest with great momentum and force.

Jack flew back with immense force, rolling him end over end before his body flattened to a stop. Spitting out yet another mouthful of blood. "Heh, you call that a fucking punch? Kate’s mother slammed the door on me harder. Maybe I should send her here to fight."

"Your use of insults only demonstrates the lack of combative ability." Cypher's simple response was.

Jack hammered down on the concrete with his fists, breaking off chunks and tossing them towards the man as he got up onto his feet.

Cypher attempted to roll out of the way, but Roman was throwing the rocks quick. Cypher could only dodge so many. The wind was knocked out of him as a single one being thrown at about 90 miles an hour collided with his stomach, another in his leg. Vaulting forward he grabbed his machete again, slicing the rocks into pieces where he could.

"Now if you’re REALLY ready to fight... let’s go." Jack ran straight at the man once again, pretending the feign a punch again but this time connected right into the man’s helmet taking it clean off. Using the momentum he grabbed the man by the collar and rolled with him as he grabbed hold of his arm and squeezed the bone into powder.

Cypher was taken into the air; Roman tackled him with enough speed and brute force to knock his helmet off and his own person into the air.

Cypher snarled, as he hit the ground hard, the weight of the cyborg atop him. Seething as he felt his arm shatter.

Using his free hand he reached for his Taser, quite literally stabbing it into Roman using his enhanced strength and squeezed the trigger so hard it nearly broke in his hand.

His broken arm twisted and contorted gruesomely as it knitted itself back together with amazing speed, almost fully healing within seconds.

Words couldn't even begin to describe the horror Kate was witnessing, and not only that, but knowing she couldn't do a damn thing to help...even if she weren't a broken and bloody heap right then.

The helmet came off, and Kate's jaw dropped. She noticed the hair first, having had to pay somewhat more attention to it earlier during their 'date' as Sektor had brought it up questioning his gender, and therefore there was no question as to who the man underneath the suit was.

"YOU BASTARD!" Kate screamed out as loud as she could, uncaring if her voice went hoarse. She tried getting up again, if only to punch Marcus in the face herself, but her muscles simply wouldn't give.

"YOU LIED TO ME!"

Jack screamed in pain as the Taser went off right in his side. The scream echoed throughout the empty streets. For a moment all he saw was pure white. Lying flat on his back he let out a growl mixing pain with anger as he saw Kate screaming over in his direction. Sadness fell over his face as she screamed "YOU BASTARD! YOU LIED TO ME!" Jack thought to himself. He wasn’t lying, he promised he would protect her. "I’m not lying!" He shouted in a delusional state. "I... I made a promise." He muttered before reaching into his coat and pulling out a syringe. "I’ll kill them all!" He screamed jamming the syringe into his own neck. The Lucid quickly filled his veins and got to work instantly. All his pain increased tenfold momentarily letting out a yelp as a mixture of fear pain and hatred took him over, but within seconds it all went mute.

Jack got up casually and raised his fists. Listening to his own blood flow, feeling the wind sweep against his hair and smelling the sweat and blood mixed with the fluid pouring out of Sektor. Time slowed down and Jack just stared and smiled at Cypher. "One more round asshole." He whispered. Jack felt nothing... all emotion gone from his state of mind, just pure focus.

Cypher rose with a groan as Jack rolled off of him. He punched a toppled bus, a large dent being made where his fist was. "I'm...not...Marcus." He managed to breathe out, grabbing his head with a single hand and groaning. "I am...better. My name is...Cypher - Agent Cypher." He approached her slowly, though his posture was idle.

"Marcus is my decrepit other half, the one *you* know. The one who loves you." He said mockingly, continuing to groan in severe pain, his hand not leaving his head.

"I'm what he tries to forget...the half he buries under all his emotion, turning me into nothing more than a fantasy-GAHH!" He fell to his knees, both hands now at his head.

"As a matter of fact; there he is now..breakin-urggh free. Your boyfriend packs...quite a punch." He breathed out, managing a pained laugh.

"Don't hate him. He won't remember any of this." Was all Cypher said before collapsing on the ground.

Memories jumbled, images shattered. Everything was different, so wrong; the ground, the sky, the air, the...feel.

Marcus looked up slowly from his position, gasping frantically as if his lungs would not accept the air about him. "Wh-where am I?" He asked, slowly and shakily standing to his feet, using his other hand to place on the fallen bus to support himself. "Why...why am I dressed like this?" He looked up, vision blurry. "Oh God, Kate!" He cried out, running towards her.

There was a distinct voice difference between himself and Cypher: Cypher's was cool and arrogant, seeping with suppressed rage and venomous power. While Marcus' was concerned, charismatic...human.

"Kate, what happened? Where are we?" He asked, attempting to support her with his arms.

Jack crouched down and sprinted full speed into Marcus. "You’re not fooling anyone." Grabbing the man and running with him, slamming him straight into the side of the bus full force. Jack took his hand and slammed an open palm right into his throat. Pressure squeezing slightly until he felt like his head was about to pop. "Don’t fucking bullshit me! Who are you and who are you working for?" Turning his head to see if Kate was unharmed. For all he knew it was a trick, But Jack noticed the fear in the man’s eyes. He was either actually scared or a really good actor. Either way he wasn’t dropping him anytime soon.

Kate blinked, using her good arm to wipe away the tears, smearing the blood and tears together rather than wiping it away as she had intended. "Roman, wait..." Kate said loud enough for him to hear. Something Marcus had said earlier stuck into her...something about...not being himself? Something...pertaining to his injury. As much as she wanted to just hate Marcus for the rest of her life...but he seemed so genuine back at breakfast. Call it a curse of her kind-heart, but maybe there really was something to this whole thing.

"He's telling the truth..." She said after a moment, feeling the anger in her shift from Marcus to Detective Roman. She had seen what he did, and now that damned drug was running through his blood stream, the stupidest thing she had ever seen and all just to...

save...me...

The lump came back into her throat and she rested her head back down on the ground, her neck muscles unwilling to hold its weight any longer and her eyes slowly flitted closed as the pain had once again returned, taking over her at last.

Marcus could barely breathe, better yet breathe. He felt the cold metal arms clutch around his neck and applying horrible pressure.

His pleading eyes looked down towards Kate. He was confused, disoriented, where the hell was he?

Finally he heard her weakly speak in his favor, he looked to Jack now, mouthing out, "Please..."

Jack let go of the man’s neck and watched him drop with a satisfying thunk. The mass of senses flooding over him like a large wave pushing on his very brain. Kate’s whisper felt like a sonic book and the thud of the man sounded like a crashing dump truck. "He tried to kill you..." Jack whispered attempting to stop the booming noise. Turning his head felt like a panoramic view in his brain. The mass amount of senses taking in everything it could.

He tried to walk over to Kate to see if she was okay but collapsed onto himself as the adrenaline wore off and the multiple broken ribs jabbed at his lungs. Blood pouring out of his mouth by the cupful as he reached over and pulled the broken Taser out of his side. He tried to stand once more but collapsed once again. Was he dying? He couldn’t tell... His brain felt so alive yet his body was falling apart from the seams.

Jack let go of the mans neck and watched him drop with a satifying thunk. The mass of senses flooding over him like a large wave pushing on his very brain. Kates wisper felt like a sonic book and the thud of the man sounded like a crashing dump truck. "He tried to kill you..." Jack whispered attempting to stop the booming noise. Turning his head felt like a panoramic view in his brain. The mass amount of senses taking in everything it could.

He tried to walk over to Kate to see if she was okay but collapsed onto himself as the adrenaline wore off and the multiple broken ribs jabbed at his lungs. Blood poured out of his mouth by the cupfull as he reached over and pulled the broken tazer out of his side. He tried to stand once more but collapsed once again. Was he dying? He couldnt tell... His brain felt so alive yet his body was falling apart from the seams.

Marcus exhaled deeply, offering a series of coughs as the cyborg dropped him; bruises were already beginning to form on his neck.

Recovering quickly, not even noticing the bruises already fading away, he walked over to where Kate was, kneeling down in front of her.

Turning to the cyborg his face turned into one of surprise, then shock, then horror as realization hit him. "I...tried to kill her? What are you talking abo-...No...no, he...he doesn't exist."

Slowly Marcus looked down, recognizing the black armor, the same black armor worn by the man who plagued his every waking nightmare, the man who's only mission was whatever the Districts told him to do.

The man who would...kill women, smother babies in their cribs, massacre an orphanage if it fulfilled the order he was given.

And he was wearing it...

His mind went back and he remembered a dream he had just the night before. His 'doppleganger' spoke cryptically in odd words and illusions....

Marcus woke up...somewhere. It looked like a forest, Elevated platforms were hung on trees above a toiling, white, foaming river underneath a raging waterfall.

He was dressed like he usually would, wearing his regular t-shirt with a shoulder holster, jeans, and leather combat boots.

The left side of his face felt cool upon the metal, but the warmth of his breath met him as well; he was still alive.

He slowly began to stand up, feeling sore for reasons he didn't know. A figure was standing in front of him, but he did not see his face yet. But there was a certain...realization; he knew who the figure was. The black armor, the helmet, he knew.

Marcus finally stood, his eyes meeting the front of Cypher's visor. The men stood at completely equal heights, down to the centimeter, their builds were similar; corded muscle lined their tall frames with broad shoulders.

"Hello Marcus." Cypher greeted in a civil tone, yet it was marred with poison. "Come to chat with me once more?" He asked, his gauntlet-clad hands cupped behind his back.

"Cypher." Marcus bid curtly, grimacing as though he was looking at a mass murderer, which Cypher was. "I've come to stop you..." He swore aloud, his tone equally as casual.

"Does your ignorance know no bounds?" Cypher began, his true, vile tone coming out. "You still believe yourself the true man, Marcus? That *I* am the facsimile? You are so completely wrong." Cypher said with a short chuckle, slowly reaching for his helmet. A sharp hiss of air sounded as the helmet finally freed itself from the rest of his outfit. Cypher pulled it off slowly, dropping it on the metal ground where it clattered ominously.

"What is this?!" Marcus demanded, furious. "You...stole my face. Trying to steal my personal dignity as well?" He spat out, pressed with rage.

"I *share* your face, Marcus. We are one and the same." Cypher informed, pacing about nonchalantly. "I am perfection...you are the part of me who is blinded to the lie programmed within you. You're not who you think you are, I am not who you think I am...I am what you were made to be." It was at this that Marcus awoke in a cold sweat, the memories fading until this moment had occurred...

Marcus fell to his knees, defeated. "But...he's not real, he's not me...is he?" Marcus asked, tears beginning to flow from his eyes. "I...did this to her?" He asked, his composure failing as he began losing control of his emotions.

"I'm...I'm a monster." Was all he was able to say, his entire body was broken down, wrought with the pain of emotion. He could have sworn he heard Cypher laughing within him...

[Collab between Ghost Shadow and Mach2]

---

Havok had helped Vagrant move around on her new knee, deciding to find them a small abandoned warehouse where they could rest. Crates were scattered about to serve as chairs. Light pierced through small holes in the metal exterior of the building.

Havok rested his mistress on one of the crates and sat on one opposite her, staring at her, as if he was studying what she would do.

Once situated on the crate, Vagrant slowly bent and flexed her new knee, staring at the prosthetic as it moved. It still hurt. Less than when the bullet had gone in, but still a hell of a lot. "That thing's gonna take getting used to."

She looked up, seeing Havok staring at her, and raised an eyebrow. As much as she wanted to ask him to take her after the men who had killed her brother, she knew she wasn't ready for a fight just yet. Even with the help of an assassin droid. So instead, she resorted to conversation. After staring back at Havok for a few seconds, Vagrant leaned back and asked, in genuine curiosity, "How much do you weigh?"

Havok's eyes flared in response. "Mistress, how rude! Do I look like a heavyweight platform to you? My model was built for durability and speed. You offend me." He hissed out at her.

Vagrant rolled her eyes at the fact that she'd managed to offend him yet again. "Yeah, but how much? You're this ten foot tall assassin bot made o' solid metal." She laughed, intentionally attempting to annoy him now. "Think you could crush one o' your bounties by sitting on 'em?"

"Specification: Mistress my platform stands at only 6'5.7" tall. My platform weight in at about 234 standard pounds. Now, if you are done belittling your loyal assassin droid, perhaps we could discuss more prevalent matters at hand?" He asked, his tone now somewhat irate.

"I ain't belittling you, lighten up," Vagrant laughed.

Nevertheless, she nodded, her expression becoming more serious. Trying to disguise the effort it took, she lifted her legs up onto the crate so that she was sitting across its surface, prosthetic knee bent at a slight angle that still didn't quite qualify as comfortable. Pulling out the papers from the Datacore again, she spread them out on the crate in front of her. "So how do you usually do this? Just go after 'em and shoot 'em down?" she asked Havok, staring at the pictures of the three men.

"Mistress, do I look like second-grade junk to you? There is a lot of planning that goes into my assassinations. I need to know my target, their backstory. Past experience changes the way the target reacts or is prepared for such occurrences. Then there is the method of assassination. Though, I, myself enjoy front-up assault type methods, I also enjoy practicing the simple long-range sniper shot." Havok began explaining in great detail.

Vagrant shook her head bitterly. "No. They don't deserve a sniper," she said simply. "I want them to know they're gonna die."

She looked up from the papers again. "So what kinda planning do we need to do? We already got their backgrounds and all that," she said, holding up the first sheet of paper to emphasize her point.

"Well, we need to find them next. I usually study their daily routine to figure out where they will be at what time. Each contract may take some time, but I guarantee it will be creative." Havok vowed with a sinister tone.

"All right. Guess I can be patient. I waited a few months already, right?" Vagrant glanced down at the papers once more, skimming over the summary of the first man. She stuck her finger on the image of his face, looking to Havok. "So should we go after him first? Harvey Bishop? The guy that works the auto shop in D-17? He shouldn't be too hard a target."

"I will go after whoever *you* tell me, Mistress." He said with a small nod, fingering his rifle in anticipation. "It will be great to harm organics physically, emotionally, and psychologically." He said, chuckling lightly; an odd sound.

So long as he ended up dead, she cared little about the methods that Havok used to achieve that goal. If he suffered the same terror she'd seen in Austin's face when he died, all the better.

"We're goin' after Harvey Bishop, then," Vagrant answered decisively, folding the papers up once more and stuffing them back into her pocket.

"Mistress, my optical scans confirm you are still only working at 76% of full function. You're still organic and need a few days of careful rehabilitation. If I am forced to endure the fools inside that clinic another second I'll plant a pistol to my core and pull the trigger...repeatedly!" He said fervently.

"Let me go after Harvey Bishop, Mistress. If you want, I'll take pictures of the result." He said in a sinister manner, his eyes flaring.

The scowl formed on Vagrant's face. She wanted to be there to watch him die. Wanted to make sure he knew what crimes had cost him his life. But Havok was right. She was still barely able to limp without help, much less make it all the way to D-17 to witness an assassination.

With a heavy sigh, she conceded to Havok's suggestion. "Fine. Make sure he knows why he's dying. And yeah, I want a picture," she confirmed. She wanted to see Harvey dead. "I'll get used to the knee, and then I'm going with you on the next one."

"As you wish, Mistress." Havok replied neutrally. "Tell me, what is your preferred method of extermination? I could make it slow and painful." Havok suggested, "Or perhaps a long suffering burn to death by my flamethrower?"

"Go crazy," Vagrant answered with a shrug, almost indifferently. "Just make sure he's dead."

"You are quite vague, Mistress. More room for variety." He said, his eyes flaring once more in response.

He stood from his spot on the crate. "Time to get to know my target. Mistress, please do try and keep yourself from harm while I am away; you're one of my most preferred mistresses." He said before grabbing his rifle and sprinting out the door.

"Will do," Vagrant answered as he left.

She watched the door close with a slightly disappointed expression. Glancing down at the prosthetic knee once more, she scowled. "Damn thing."

With a sigh, the girl slowly lowered herself off of the crate and onto the floor. Most of her weight was on her good leg, and she supported herself against the wooden crate with one hand. Even though virtually no weight was on the new knee, it still hurt. "Cool. He gets to go kill people, I get to practice learnin' how to walk again," she muttered bitterly.

With obvious effort, she started to take lurching steps across the abandoned warehouse. Her weight was still supported primarily on her good leg and the wooden crates, but each step sent pain shooting up her leg. As much as she hated to admit it, it was probably for the best that Havok had gone alone.

Henry looked up from his desk as two men walked into the room. Both were not dressed in District 0 attire. Both were dressed in loose T-shirts with some kind of graphic design on them, and both wore loose pants and slip on shoes. One had his greasy hair slicked back, and the other had his combed to the side. One, the one with the slicked back hair, had thick rimmed glasses that looked too big for his face, and the other wore sunglasses in doors. It was clear that both of them really didn't care about personal hygiene that much, or at all, for that matter.

Henry nodded to both of the men, and stood up. He extended his hand when they approached the desk, and shook each of their hands. The two sat in the pre-placed chairs, and Henry sat back down at his own chair. The room was quickly engulfed with silence, save a couple times when the man with thick rimmed glasses took a hit form his inhaler.

"So, it's been a while, Mr. Jamison," said the man with sunglasses.

"Yes. I has been."

"I'm assuming the reason that you called us here is because of him?" asked the man with the thick rimmed glasses.

Henry merely nodded, then pulled out a file named "HA-VK". He set it down on the desk and took a deep breath. "You both created him, and he was lost in a firefight. But now he is back and I want you to hack him. Bring him back under me."

The man with the thick rimmed glasses shook his head. "No. You must be mistaken. He was deactivated and lost. We couldn't find him. At all."

Henry sighed and picked up a remote. He held it at the big holovision screen and pressed a button. The screen whirred to life, and the images of Havok and some young girl walking the streets of a lower District were displayed for them all to see. Once the images were played enough, Henry shut off the holovision and clasped his hands together. "Now you know I am not kidding with you. I need to you to go back to your lab, and I need you to hack him. We will provide you with anything you might need. All I ask is that you hack him back to serve me. I have one more person I need dead..."

---

James stayed on the bed, a frown on his face from both what he was just informed of, and from a small, dull headache. He shook his head for the hundredth time that night, and finally got out. Not bothering to turn on the lights, he made his way to the door of his bedroom and opened it. The dim light of the living room was like a floodlight to James. His eyes burned, even after he closed his eyes. He let out a hiss of pain and immediately began rubbing his eyes, trying to soothe the sensation.

Mason looked up from his bong when he heard the door to his room open. He smiled until he saw his brother's reaction to the light. He dropped his bong onto the table and shot up. In an instant, he was at his brother's side and guiding him to the nearby couch. He wasted no time in getting him seated and looking for a small rag, an ice pack, and a couple of aspirins. In minutes, he was back at his brother's side and placing the cold back on his head as his brother took the aspirins. He sat next to him and stayed silent until James visibly relaxed.

"Dam bro, are you okay? I've never seen you with that big of a headache.."

"I'm fine, Mason. Thanks. It was nothing.. really." The elder twin sighed and looked at his younger brother through the small opening that the cold pack gave him. He shook his head. "Mason... we need to talk... It's about that Deon guy..."