Luminous Beings

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

Lynn

The girl's sputtering was wasted after the first few words. The heat in the clearing rose slowly but steadily, and Lynn's clothes started to smoke faintly. The acrid smell of burning cloth fumed up around her, and Lynn cocked her head to one side, looking up at the girl before her with a growing smile. She didn't have any scars. She didn't need her hair on fire to be healthy. Lynn, for a moment, was jealous, the sad kind that just sighs and goes along its way. There was too much else to linger on it.

"Funny," Lynn whispered. "I didn't get these tattoos in prison here. That's some shit my celly did because she got bored." She was dodging the question. Lynn took a step closer, fingers dancing. "If I can trust you, I'll cremate that fucking body. But I don't think I can. So I'll ask you again - if you were a prisoner here, what was your number? Six digits. Spit it."

Her eyes and hair were reddish orange around the tips, but a faint hint of blue lit the roots and center of her eyes. I do not have much in me, Lynn thought, merely tipsy rather than fully drunk. Just once, Lynn thought, she wanted a fucking downhill fight on this station. Regardless, there was no need for her to know that. Lynn knew far better, drunk or sober, than to let on you weren't half as strong as you acted. Lynn stepped forward with the confidence of someone two feet taller than her, hands ready to grab her. What had Keaton said about her? Something about alarms and that was it. Goo? Hrrng. "Six numbers. Six numbers and I'll do whatever you need me to. I don't love these bastards. But I'm not turning around to leave and getting a shovel in the back of my head." Lynn's expression almost softened. Maybe it was empathy. Maybe happiness. "Lemme help you."

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

Lynn

The girl was small, but even small was bigger than Lynn. Lynn looked up at her, a brief moment of empathy warming her features from titanium to mere granite. Lynn soaked in her details unconsciously, as she did with so many things. Growing up, not being able to recognize the same face twice walking down the street outside your house or not noticing who was throwing side glances at you in lock-up meant someone had the leg up on you. If there was anything about this girl that could give Lynn an edge - or even an idea of truth - she wanted to know. She spoke with an accent - Scottish or Irish or some shit, Lynn couldn't tell - and seemed weak. Tired.

Lynn wanted to believe her.

She stared at her, listening to her words. What they have upstairs? Lynn had no idea what to make of that, wishing for the third time in a minute she'd been born with Keaton's brain instead of her own broken one. Even so, this - this more than having to talk at parties and make sense of who was following her and keep track of how friendly she and Keaton seemed in public and what to make of everything she felt and didn't feel when she saw Farm Boy or Spoons - this made sense to her. It was just her sniffing out bullshit, and an ass-beating - Lynn's or Olivia Twist's - results-dependent. Lynn stared at her, loosening up a bit without realizing. She wasn't going to hurt her if she wasn't sure. Was she?

You weren't sure about Salamandra and you -
four people -
just a bottle, one little toss -

She was young. As young as Lynn. Maybe a touch older. Prettier. They all were. Lynn privately wondered if Amelia had gotten while the getting was good, and if Eli had done the same. She thought that maybe the latter of the two would stay, but probably not. It was her in the dark. Behind Arianna, a half dozen yards or so, Lynn thought she saw movement, but supposed it was a trick of the light. Lynn was not quite seeing double - she was sobering up, and fast - but she was still seeing reality a little fuzzier than it truly was. The girl looked hungry. Thin. She was little, like Lynn. Like a little sister, even if she was bigger. She didn't - she wasn't. Salamandra was because she had to, and those four - they were just there, and the people in the houses - but this was different. She couldn't...

Lynn stayed tense - even if this girl was on the level, there was a real good chance someone - or multiple someones - with a badge were going to come through here, and put a bullet in either or both of them for seeing too much. There wasn't much time to make things up. Lynn let her eyes fall to the girl's pants. What had Amelia said? Shovels? This girl certainly wasn't carrying one. And she was too small to be really using one. Strong? Like Natalie? Lynn wasn't sure. She stared at her a moment longer. If they tried to take her after the breakout, she was certainly capable of protecting herself. Why did she have a shovel out here anyway? Unless -

The washed-up corpse.

The breakout.

The woods.

The doll.

Keaton.

If Lynn had been a few decimal points' more drunkenness in her blood, she might not have remembered. She might not have bit back the smile. "I won't let them take you," Lynn said, watching her closely. She moved a step nearer to the girl, close enough that Lynn could lunge and grab her if she had to - Lynn supposed that the same was true, if not more true, for this girl. She certainly looked sober, and Lynn didn't count on her reflexes being as sharp as they should be. This girl grabbing her first was perfectly fine by her. As it was, she had her arms crossed - the second it took to uncross them might even things. Might not. She might be fast. She might be strong. She might get in Lynn's head. She'll have plenty of fuckin' company in there, at least. "We can't stay here." Lynn realized very suddenly she had not had any sort of idea of how to get back to the party, or even what direction went back to the facilities in the Promise. This was deeper into a forest than she had ever been in her lifetime, and Lynn had only one solution for finding a trail in a forest, and it was likely to incur significantly more costs than her job at Vaquero could cover.

"I was one too," Lynn said, pulling back her sleeve, showing off the crude prison tattoos she bore. "No names. It's safer. Cara might be listening," she said, "And she can tell names. But tell me - what was your number?" Lynn dropped her sleeve back down. "Your inmate number here." If she got it right, Lynn would hear her out. If not, there were graves.

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

Lynn

"What do you believe everyone is thinking?" the words seemed to float in-between the pond-ripples of drunk thought that were making Lynn's mind murky. The seven words skipped across them all like flat stones across the water, and Lynn had no idea what to say. She hadn't known how to say the confused mess she'd already said, and with the sudden arrival of another person she already felt like she had said too much, like someone had walked in on her naked, like some midnight spell was over and she was back to riding pumpkins pulled by rats. Still, the question hung in her mind. She...she knew what they were thinking. Why did Eli say it like that? Like she was stupid or silly for thinking that, like it was just in her head? It wasn't - it was what they thought, Gennedy and the doctors and Natalie and Archie and Keaton and Amelia and all of them, she could see it in their faces. Lynn didn't understand.

Lynn rubbed at her face for a minute, trying to sort out her thoughts. Puking had made her feel better, and while she was still too groggy to piece it together, igniting - however softly - had helped as well. The two were saying they were going to stay with her, which annoyed her for a reason she could not explain. Then people at the party would wonder what was up, and they would talk, and they would know. The thought rankled Lynn, even in whatever warm fuzziness remained of her earlier good mood. This is probably what I deserve for getting shitfaced to celebrate a dude's death, if we're really being honest here. She swiveled her head to look at Amelia. Bonding? Was that what this was? Lynn had reached her lifetime bonding quota, but felt any comment to that effect would be a Dick Move. They had come out to help her, as much as it annoyed (and confused) her.

Look for the noise? Lynn couldn't hear it - at first. She paused and strained her ears and picked up on it.

There were a great many things Lynn struggled at. Lynn was not skilled at diplomacy even at its most basic forms, and she was not skilled at schoolwork, and she was not skilled at, as some would call it, just chilling the fuck out. All of those were somewhat connected, and somewhat fed off the other, but the last was the one she was the most unskilled at. It was the most double-edged of the things Lynn was bad at, because it had kept Lynn alive in any number of situations - including some recent, reptilian-related ones - but it had caused more than enough problems that I doubt I need to specify.

Regardless, the part of Lynn that was always worried something good was only happening so something worse could interrupt it was never far from the surface. Even half-drowned in tequila, it was simmering, and it rocketed to the front of her mind, screaming at Lynn that it told her so, and that she was a fool, that she should've had her guard up, that now she'd finally die. Cops, Lynn thought at first. Busting the party. Lynn blinked, already on her feet, which were steady beneath her even if the world around her remained a bit wobbly. Lynn listened again, still slower on the draw than the two more sober girls with her. Lynn's mind raced for a moment, and the part of her that could not make the numbers on a math textbook page come together ran through some possibilities.

Lynn stumbled forward, her feet not wanting to lift high enough to clear the roots and branches on the forest, and Lynn bounced from tree trunk to tree trunk, falling into them as she tried to move relatively quickly.

"Alert: Target Within 100 Feet"

In a brief second, a half dozen thoughts flickered across Lynn's mind - a child's doll; Salamandra's head beaten against the side of the restaurant wall, melting and warping in the heat; a mall food court with two faceless men; an interrogation room, a cold steel table with Gennedy twisting the legs; the sight of the Promise with three hundred dead, full of screams and smoke; Keaton. Then, a plan. A wild, half-put-together, drunk plan. But something. Either Amelia runs and it works, or she stays and it works, Lynn thought, hoping there was enough adrenaline running in her to offset the liquor.

Lynn grabbed Amelia's arm and felt sick to her stomach, felt awful, felt like an absolute bitch. She came to help you, you asshole. But Amelia would understand fear and Lynn's brain was too drunk to find better words. Her mind was trying to put together the pieces but she wasn't Keaton, her brain was too slow, and she did not know what the right thing was. "Don't fucking leave alone," Lynn murmured, as quietly as she dared, as forcefully as she could. She knew Amelia was scared back at the station and she could see she was scared now. Lynn hoped she could make her more afraid of her than of the dark. Che taught you really well, didn't he? a little voice wondered. Would you have done this to Megan and Clarita too, if they started slowing you down? Did you? Lynn pushed it down. She could apologize or help Amelia sort shit out later but not if they all died right here. If Arianna hadn't seen the two of them yet there was a chance. "Stay with Eli like she fucking owes you money. If shit..." Lynn stopped, her stomach rolling over. "If shit hits the fan, go away fast. Find - " Lynn almost said Keaton but caught herself. There was a good, good chance that Arianna was looking for blood, and if so, Keaton needed to stay far the fuck away from here. She was the only one who knew. "Just go." Lynn had always viewed forests as oversized matchboxes. She would be alright alone, unless Arianna was a nullifier, in which case none of it mattered anyway. At least there will be trees over me, Lynn thought before she could force the useless thought out of her mind. It seemed that night as if her thoughts were bordered in velvet instead of iron, and it was starting to piss her off.

One hundred feet. That was so fucking close. Lynn staggered forward a few more steps, cursing her feet for being as noisy as they were. She grabbed onto Eli and clamped a mouth over her hand from behind - or tried to. Eli was taller. A lot taller. Lynn settled for whispering, "It's me. Go invisible right fucking now. Get to Amelia. Don't let her leave without you." Lynn paused, mind whirring as best it could. "Everything. Smell, sight, sound, get rid of it all. Amelia too."

Lynn stepped around Eli and moved forward as quickly as she dared, her mind still racing. There was - there was a way, she thought, maybe, to bring Arianna out of hiding. But it would mean saying things that Amelia and Eli would not be able to unhear. Lynn tripped and fell, fuming figuratively and literally. They'll think I can't handle my shit, Lynn cursed, standing back up and moving forward. I need them to go. I can't - four is too many I can't have six, and if I have to burn the forest down it could be - fuck, just get her and go, Amelia.

As best as Lynn's dizzy mind could tell, she'd put a good fifteen feet between her and Eli. Lynn stood up and gave herself a drunken moment to be pissed off at this, at the fact the odds were good she'd be alone in these damned woods bare-ass naked in a matter of minutes, maybe with Eli and Amelia watching, and then let the heat roll off her. In the dark woods, Lynn's hair was the only light for a hundred yards, blue, then orange, then yellow, then gold. She looked around, a hint of smoke reaching her nose, whose scar was deep and dark in the firelight. Lynn couldn't see shit beyond wherever her light cast, her eyes watering and smarting from the sudden light, but hopefully the same applied to Arianna. She could feel a sensation she had not felt before which was supremely unpleasant, which was the alcohol inside her stomach roiling in the heat and threatening to ignite. As Lynn drew on her powers more, her regeneration started to work, but she would not be fully sober for a while. As it was, Lynn swayed as she stood, and the world swayed with her. She tried to think of everything she missed but she knew her mind was not what she needed it to be. I need to talk to this bitch alone...but Eli won't leave unless Amelia makes her, and I need them to not get involved. Had Amelia said she was noisy when she teleports? Lynn couldn't remember, and what made it all that much harder to manage was the quiet voice reminding her of the way her nose felt when Salamandra's elbow broke it open, when she knocked a tooth clean from her jaw, when she'd flipped her to the floor. You had nothing to eat today, the voice whispered. And there is no lizard around to save you.

Lynn stood, moving in a circle as much as she dared to keep from being a completely sitting duck, but she wanted her to know where she was. "Oy," Lynn said into the dark, the shovel noises stopped - if that's what they were. Lynn wasn't convinced. "I want to talk to you," she said, letting the forest eat up her the soft slur of her words. Let's see what kind of person she is, Lynn thought. "I know who you are, and you know about me." Lynn could hear Salamandra's voice in her hear, sharp and laughing, that she didn't know who the fuck Lynn was, but that was good too, because it meant she and Keaton were under the radar, and that this bitch wasn't in league with Gennedy. And if she did know and wanted to talk, then maybe Lynn and Keaton were onto something.

And if she stepped out of the woods and put a .44 round in Lynn's chest, that would tell Keaton something too. Lynn wasn't a coward but she didn't like this shit, just standing and waiting.

The dark stretched on and on around her. "I'm waiting," Lynn said. There was too much she didn't know here. Too much her fuzzy brain couldn't figure out. Damnit, why can't I be Keaton, Lynn thought. Whatever I missed she wouldn't have.

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

Lynn

There was only one steady thing in this world and it was the tree behind her. And the ground. That was two things. Were they one thing? Maybe they were all one thing. oh God I'm one of those drunks Lynn thought, trying to blink the dizziness away. She rolled the flower over in her hand, focusing on how soft the petals felt to distract her from the tipsy-topsy-turvy mess that was her stomach. Somewhere, like a single ray of sunshine in-between a sky of storm clouds, a lone sober thought broke through to the front of Lynn's mind: I think I should've eaten dinner before this.

Lynn focused on taking deep breaths. Before the Promise, she'd been better at this. She could just beat back whatever was lurking around in the back of her mind. Che or all the homes - heh Holmes - or the trial. No matter how many times, each time the trial crossed her mind it stung just as badly as the day it'd happened. For a minute, her black t-shirt was a scratchy orange jumpsuit, her neck tight against the cold steel. Lynn shook her head like a dog and it went away. But here at the Promise it was like it was all right there under the surface just waiting. The cafeteria was just pain in her shoulder and looking down and seeing a butcher knife in her knee, or every time she walked into the Vaquero's kitchen she remembered - vaporized - or coming into the woods she saw that body with all the scars and that reminded her how close she was, if any of them, Gennedy or Radvi or any of them, if they found out. They brought her on the Promise strapped to a chair, and she had a feeling she was ending her time here the same way.

There was movement to her left and Lynn was too slow to react - fuck, fuck, she was too slow, she was going to get her, she hadn't killed her, she'd made it out the restaurant and - Lynn blinked. It was Eli. Lynn clumsily raised a hand and grunted for a minute, letting her skin glow and fill the few feet around her with soft light, the shadows dancing as her hair changed colors. Something in the alcohol had dampened whatever kept Lynn on such a hair trigger, and the heat was pleasant in the artificial autumn air. The forest was pleasant at night, if a bit spooky. It smelled like the real world out here, not like some squeaky clean lie up in the stars. Lynn hadn't ever got to play around in forests, growing up in the city. She had to leave Earth to see this many trees. Lynn stared up at Eli with woozy yellow eyes. "Eli?" Lynn slurred. She could hear the slur in her own voice which meant she was probably slurring like fifteen times worse. well it's not like they thought i was a rocket scientist before Her voice was full of surprise. She hadn't...why had Eli come? And with a bottle of water? Was she trying to dowse her? That wasn't enough water to - oh. She wanted to help. Well that was nice.

Lynn fumbled with the bottle's cap for a minute, smacking back more bottle memories and taking a sip. It helped wash away the acidic taste in her throat. "Thanks," Lynn mumbled, swaying a bit. Eli was close to her. Just kneeling. She didn't have one hand casually by her belt or one ready to grab her. She was just there. Eli was being really nice. Eli didn't look at her the way the others had, like she was just one wrong word away from killing them. That was what Lynn wanted, you know, so they wouldn't fuck with her, but it - she didn't - this was nice, was all. "Some other fire para threw up over there so you should watch out," Lynn said, hoping for humor and unsure if any of the words were intelligible. Lynn sipped again on the water and looked at Eli for a minute. It was kinda hard to look at much else since the corners of her vision were a bit dark and most certainly blurry. At least the ground was soft, and there were lots of flowers. She was nice. Keaton was nice too but Keaton was really smart and there was - well Lynn didn't blame her, because Lynn didn't fully trust Keaton either, and she didn't trust Eli, she'd only just met her, but Lynn thought someone who could fuck with your mind was going to be a terrible person and Eli wasn't, and she'd known enough fake snakes to know the difference, and -

"Eli," Lynn said quietly, her head too full of noise for any one thought to get through. This was a terrible idea but Lynn did not care. Continuing to breathe on this damned station was a terrible idea. There was a block in her throat she had to push past but once she did the dam just split and all the alcohol-thoughts came out in a slurred whisper as quiet as Lynn could manage, like maybe if she spoke quiet enough it wouldn't be true. "Eli I...Eli you shouldn't be nice to me, I..." Lynn's words slipped off for a minute. _four "Eli I had to...there wasn't...she was gonna kill me if I hadn't, or do something to Archie, but...but I don't think that's why I did it, I think I..." the words came spilling out like a jug that burst in half a dozen different places and Lynn couldn't keep track of which stream came from where. "This place is fucking evil, they're doing shit, they...I - I can't sleep, there's...I just wanted to get fucked up for one night to celebrate 'cause of Gary, and not think about - then he had to bring her here and - I didn't mean to burn him, he grabbed me and I - and everybody thinks I just...fuck just go back to the party, I don't want to ruin it, I'm fine, I-"

There was noise Gennedy and Lynn flinched back against the tree. Had she been less inebriated, she might've notice the scrape on her neck as a result. It slowly stitched itself back up. It was Amelia. She hadn't heard, Lynn didn't think. No...no chance. She was speaking so softly. you're so drunk you probably weren't even speaking English anyway. She thought an iron ball had been dropped in her thoughts and dragged her drunk back down to reality. Shut the fuck up right now, you idiot. She's one of them. She'll tell her friend Radvi or tell Keaton you're fucking losing it and then they'll lock you up. Amelia or Nat will snitch. That one with the Rolex would just shoot you. They'll put the needle in you. Lynn took a sip of the water. That doll wasn't far from here when I found it. Amelia was trying to be nice. Maybe. Lynn didn't know what Amelia was doing sober let alone drunk. she's getting a kick out of this I bet. at least she doesn't look scared anymore. Even Lynn's pride was not so great as to admit this was probably pretty funny for them. At least she wouldn't remember it. "You can only fuck my hair back if you hold me." Lynn frowned. "No, shit. Damnit. That would've been funny. Shit." she sipped at the water again. "Thanks for the water," Lynn murmured. "I'm okay, though, you guys can go back to the party. I think I - " Lynn coughed for a minute, a false alarm of a dry heave passing as quickly as it came. "I think I could sober up pretty fast but I would probably set some stuff on fire if I did that. I got bitchslapped by the lizard I'm not gonna die from some - " Lynn burped, pausing. Nope. She was good. "Some tequila." She paused, swaying. "I mean it was a lot of tequila. But whatever." she sat back, the bark of the tree more comfortable than any chair in recent memory. The tree was solid. The tree was good. Lynn didn't fully realize she was doing it, but she shifted one of her legs to the left, leaning it against Eli. Eli felt warm. Eli was solid and good too.

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

Lynn

Lynn was not sure if her thoughts or her body or her eyes or her head started spinning first, but they all followed one after the other in a drunken shuffle. Somewhere, vaguely, the memory of fumbling with the pill bottle cap earlier in the day came to mind, and Lynn couldn't remember eating today, and she hadn't slept, she didn't think. She had bad dreams when she did sleep. She was in a restaurant, most of the time, or sometimes she was back in juvy, or sometimes just in grade school. So she stayed awake.

Amelia was talking. Leather jacket. Lynn blinked and opened her mouth, looking for words a minute before they came to her. She wanted to know why she drank at ten. He said it'd make you not afraid, Lynn wanted to say, but the last fumbling sober neurons were able to wrangle her mouth shut before she could talk. They wouldn't get it, Lynn realized. They'd just have questions and Lynn didn't want to answer questions, she didn't have the answers, they'd want to know who was Che and why she did stuff and why she was ten. Around her the music was loud and everything was picking up, movement and conversations Lynn couldn't keep track of. "'Cause I flinched," Lynn mumbled, not sure who she was speaking to. "I broke the bottle, I wasn't supposed to..." she blinked. Quiet. one half of her said. But it's true, the other half of her said back, blearily. I was supposed to throw the bottle but I got scared when I saw it light up.

Rolex came over. He was tick-tocking along. That was how you knew he was a fake. Lynn giggled at that. No, he didn't seem fake. Lynn swayed back and forth a bit, eyeing him over. He's fidgety, Lynn thought. Maybe it's his first party. But that didn't seem right. Lynn had a few instincts ingrained so deeply not even her drunkenness could make her forget them. She'd learned in a number of less-than-safe environments to look and see the way somebody carried themselves. You could see someone's tolerance for taking shit and their capability to dish it out and whether or not they'd ever seen something so fucked up it left scars on their eyes you could see every time they blinked. Lynn could see all that on him. He probably needs the party...he should get drunk too. Lynn felt Eli's eyes on her and she smiled, giggling again. The part of Lynn that would've noticed Eli was looking at her scars and counting them off in her head was struggling to keep its head above the alcohol that flooded her brain. Lynn just saw Eli smiling at her. Then she was introducing Fish and setting Fish up with Cara. She said some other words that Lynn missed, her eyes were closed and she thought her ears closed off for a second, too. When she opened them both Eli had called Lynn her friend, which made her turn back and stare, confused as the cigarette curled smoke up out of her mouth.

Friends? Lynn thought, and suddenly it was there again, that visegrip around her gut and throat that seemed to curl up around her, tighter and tighter. No, Lynn wanted to say. We can't be friends, that's bad, that's not it but Eli was also smiling and Lynn's brain couldn't put those two things together and make them fit.

Lynn's head swiveled over to Lucy and her denim jacket, which looked really snug and cozy. Lucy did two more jello shots and Lynn grinned wider, happy that she looked so happy, because they never looked happy, not with all the investigating and everything else that was going on. Lynn could see that she was wearing masks, though, because she got serious when Amelia asked about the story, and she was looking at Fish but it was a different smile than the ones she'd seen before. Lynn started to ask why she was smiling so differently, and she could smile just one way if she just drank more. Lynn turned and saw Archie and Nat and felt her stomach twist like the knotted ends in her hair and wrinkle like the ones in her shirt she couldn't seem to press flat. Archie looked good. He was tall and broad and Lynn wondered how strong you got working on boats because Archie looked strong. Her eyes swam over to Natalie who looked beautiful, awfully terribly beautiful. Something in Lynn wanted to shake and rage, wanted to scream. I got my shoulder fucked for you, Lynn wanted to shout. And almost got the needle when you called or the freezer or...

There was a part of Lynn that could still function competently and it dragged her eyes back to Archie, the light burns on his hand why did you grab me why the fuck did you grab me from behind i didn't know i wouldn't have done it and his eyes, very blue eyes mine are blue sometimes too, just not now. His eyes were looking everywhere, and Lynn followed them to the curves on Eli's jeans and the dimples on Lucy's face and Natalie's stupid fucking beautiful dress and not...they didn't...I can't help it, Lynn wanted to say, looking up. I was supposed to be tall and pretty but I'm not. I could keep you safe, they can't do that, I wouldn't let...she's wearing heels it's not fair...nobody taught me how to do makeup like hers or I would...I'm a good fucking person you shouldn't have grabbed me, why did you grab me, I don't want to burn you... Lynn's thoughts seemed to bounce and ripple apart like someone had dropped a rock into a pond, hitting the curve of the inside of her skull and bouncing back looking like something new.

Lynn fumbled to get the cigarette from her mouth to take a drink but her cup was empty. "Fuck," she murmured, blinking. She turned and Archie's heart rate monitor was beeping and before Lynn could drop her things and grab him, and keep the lizard from coming out like she had when they found the body, Rolex was there, stepping up. Lynn opened her mouth to ask if he was okay, if she could help, but she closed it.

Lynn turned back to Keaton, grabbing the tequila bottle firmly. Amelia was still there.

Do you wanna know? Lynn wanted to say, but she couldn't screw open the bottle and talk at once, she didn't spill bottles any more. You had to focus and hold them tight. There was a house across the street from where they parked, but they weren't where they'd parked. They were in a little alley off to the side and Lynn was shivering, grabbing at her face, at the bridge of her nose.

"Che...Che did I...am I gonna be ugly? Am I gonna be..."

"Shut her the fuck up."

"Che I didn't mean to - "

Che kneeled down, hushing the man next to him. Lynn didn't know who he was, but she'd heard he was from Out West, and that maybe he was a Fire Wyrm. Che cursed, holding the last bottle in his hands, stuffing the rag further down into the opening. The smells were strong and harsh, kerosene and alcohol and of course iron, but that last one was from her. "You told me you could do this," he said, and even then Lynn could tell there was iron in his voice, too, and it was because the other man had more iron in his voice, and there was going to be something bad if Che couldn't do what he said he would do, and it was because Lynn couldn't do it. Lynn didn't want to be the one who couldn't do things. She was gonna get transferred because she couldn't read as good, but Che was still her friend. But if she fucked this up then maybe he wouldn't be.

"I thought I could," Lynn said, reaching up for the glass wedged at the bridge of her nose but Che pushed her hand aside. "I thought...you didn't say there were people inside...that it was..."

"Shut her up before one of them hears," the other man muttered. Half the hair on his face was singed off, and both his eyebrows. Che had only lost the hair on his arms, and gotten a nasty gash from part of the glass. _{amelia called me molotov that day at the bench when nat was reading her stupid book before we found the dead body and i was in the hospital}

Che turned back to her and pressed the bottle into her hands. He pulled out a flask from his back pocket and handed it to her. "She can fucking do it." He turned to Lynn. "Drink this. It makes you not scared. After, you go home and it's just like a bad dream."

Lynn nodded and did, coughing and wheezing at the taste, but Che cupped a hand over her mouth and she didn't spit any out. "It hurts," Lynn said, her back to the brick wall.

"It has to be you to throw it," Che said. He stared into her eyes and when he did that sometimes she couldn't look away no matter how badly she wanted to. She knew it had to be her to throw it, because she could make things burn, like the house last year, she hadn't meant to, she'd just tried to play with one of the Christmas candles and it had gotten so big so fast, but this was diferent. This wasn't playing. "If you don't, Clarita and Megan are gonna die. I'm gonna die too. And then you're gonna die. Is that what you want?"

"No," Lynn said sniffling, because the glass hurt, it hurt really bad, but she knew you weren't supposed to cry, because then people knew it was easy to make you cry and they did it more, and Che wouldn't like her, "I...I don't want anybody to..."

Lynn jerked the bottle back. She'd poured too much into Keaton's glass. She could feel Archie standing there, just a few feet away, and maybe the lizard would come out and maybe he wouldn't, Lynn didn't care, she was just small, smaller than everybody else here, and she couldn't - fuck. Fuck all of this. She shouldn't have come. "I gotta go, uh," Lynn said, the words refusing to come together smoothly. Fuck, she just needed an excuse, a simple excuse, "Piss, yeah. Hold it for me," Lynn said, handing it off to someone, she couldn't remember their name - Jack? Fish? - and she stepped away from the circle, feeling the campfire grow smaller and lonely behind her as she stumbled off into the woods. Lynn kept herself steady until she was a good ten or twelve yards into the treeline then she picked up the pace, tripping over roots and branches and every other fucking thing in these stupid woods. Lynn kept going until she couldn't hear the sounds of the party, stopping at a tree.

Lynn grabbed onto the trunk and retched, and retched, and retched. She held herself there for a minute or two, gasping and wheezing, then stepped back. The dirt under her feet felt soft and shifted under her feet. Then again, everything was shifting. Lynn found a different tree and sat/fell down, leaning back against the trunk and feeling her whole body anchor steady to that solidity. She was on something soft. Flowers. Lynn picked some up, rolling them over in her hands. They were pretty for a moment or two, until she remembered. Flowers just cover up the smell of how full of shit some people are, Lynn thought, lifting one up to her eyes. She grunted and let the light and heat dance back across her hair and down her arms and legs, and watched smoke curl up off the petals. She'd have to hurl again in a minute, but this was fine for now.

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

LynN

Lynn zoned out for a moment when Amelia was speaking, which was likely a very fortuitous thing, as her inebriated mind may have slipped up and made an uncouth comment about what laying low entailed and perhaps what the ramifications of such a course of action were for others in the group. Instead, she looked at everybody's shoes, and noticed how markedly smaller hers were than everyone else's. Eli and Amelia were introducing themselves, which felt strange to Lynn. It felt like some heavy, cold thing that threatened to rip through the little fragile house of cards Lynn's good mood tap-danced on top of, and she couldn't explain why. Lynn wanted to put herself between Eli and Amelia (yo! Amelia's name already has Eli in it, what the fuck)and ask some questions to disrupt this, whatever it was, but before her mind had formulated a plan to make this happen Amelia had turned things back to Lynn. Fuck, this was more thinking than she wanted tonight. Lynn drank some more. "How hard did I pregame?" Lynn asked. "I just don't drink like a pussy," she said back, grinning. She was joking. Were her jokes good? People liked her more tonight than normal. Maybe they'd like her jokes. Lynn was surprised at her first beverage. She would've figured it was something nicer. As she looked down at her poor man's Jack and Coke, Lynn noticed the edge of the cup was swimming a bit in her vision. About time.

Eli called her bossy. That made Lynn grin. Was she bossy? Lynn had never heard that before. She started to say that she didn't talk to enough people to be bossy but someone had changed the subject and the line was gone from Lynn's mind and her mouth at once, forgotten. As Lynn watched Eli speak, her mind was split between the girl's words and everything else about her. Lynn's normal doubts about whether or not a housebroken para like Eli could be really trusted beyond getting dinner together - if Keaton was getting Eli in on the operation so they could stab Lynn in the back - seemed to melt away. Lynn's hair slowly and softly stopped dancing with color and settled down to a dull auburn. To someone not paying close attention, it would seem that she perhaps had some splotchy highlights put in, ones which changed color every few minutes, but far more slowly than they did before. It was messier and unkempt this way, full of split ends and a tangle or two. Lynn's skin lost a bit of its glow, and the radiant heat around the girl dimmed down. Eli invited Rolex over, which was good. Lynn would've butchered it if she'd done it. Eli drank at fourteen? Younger than she was expecting, but Lynn giggled. "Whiskey! That's real shit." She followed Eli's eyes over to two people making out, and the same strange feeling from before seemed to well up in Lynn. I could be doing that, Lynn thought, and in her mind, even her thoughts seemed to slur. No you couldn't, said another, and it wrenched her eyes back to the conversation before the sight of Maddy - _tall - threatened to twist her mood any more than it already had. Lynn turned back and saw something in Eli's face. Lynn was not sure if she could have articulated what she saw, because doing so would have meant having to explain how she saw it. It was what Lynn had just felt, that feeling of trying desperately to stomp out a roach and being afraid to lift up your foot in case it's alive and still scurries away. she had a bad time Lynn thought, staring at Eli has she swayed a bit. i had a bad time too. She used her powers to catch their attention without making a racket and Lynn stared in awe. that's so fucking cool, she thought, looking down at her own hands. she could do anything and nobody would have to know what she was.

Keaton. Denim. Lynn liked Keaton's denim. And Amelia's jacket. And...maybe also Eli's denim. fuck were we wearing denim? She stumbled through the day's events trying to remember if someone had said that or not. No, they hadn't. She'd gone back to her dorm after work after getting the tequila because Cara told her that GARY WAS FUCKING DEAD and there had been no mention of denim not once. Not once at all. Lynn wasn't out of the loop. Unless they said something to each other and didn't say it to her? why would they do that? Lynn thought. Two more people came from the edge of the clearing and Lynn felt the cards all go bust before the house came tipsy-tumbling down. It was Archie and Natalie. "She looks really pretty," Lynn murmured. And heels. And her makeup was fucking perfect. Lynn turned away and finished the rest of her drink, a tinge of blue ink-splotting out messily from the roots of her hair and base of her irises. archie didn't show his other hand Lynn thought, the sort of thought that picked the knocked-down cards off the floor and ripped them apart. There was something sharp and sudden in Lynn's stomach and she thought for a brief, sobering moment she was going to hurl but it passed. I burned Gary's hand too just like Archie's. Lynn tried not to think about Archie. Just don't. Just don't. if he comes over to talk just find a reason to leave go get more liquor or food or just say you have to pee it doesn't matter just get away

Lynn struggled to stack the cards back up before they were all shredded. Keaton. She turned to Keaton who was like a denim fucking anchor right now in Lynn's head. Keaton smiled when she looked at Lynn sometimes. And sometimes, Lynn's alcohol-slogged mind thought, it was the smirk or the condescending smile or all those other ones she'd seen so many times, the we're reviewing your case as fast as we can smile or the we think you'd be a great candidate for the Promise smile, but there were Lucy smiles too, and sometimes like now it was one of those smiles, and that made Lynn smile, and she wondered if Keaton could tell what kind of smiles Lynn had, and if Keaton even understood the difference. "Good drinking," Lynn said instead, watching Keaton crush another jello shot like a champ. Sophomore year? Lynn almost wanted to laugh. She hadn't even made it through that much high school, let alone drinking. if i kissed keaton right now that would be fucking hilarious i bet fish would flip flop out of his own scales And that was only a year ago for Lynn, so it felt funny to imagine. Lynn saw it on Keaton's face too, for a second, something sad. something bad happened sophomore year Lynn realized. She blinked and turned to Eli, the world turning a half second after her eyes did. maybe that's why they're getting along so well because they both had something bad happen Lynn decided she was doing to do something really really nice for Keaton. She didn't know what. But she told it to herself a half dozen times or so, so that in the morning she'd remember and she could do it.

Lynn grinned wide at Keaton's question, too drunk to think through the words that came stumbling out. "Hah! I have all you guys beat by a shitton. My first drink was when I was ten. Whiskey, like Eli." Lynn absentmindedly reached a spare hand to the bridge of her nose, rubbing at the scar across it. "It was 'cause I messed up his - " she blinked. Fish came swimming! Fish had like six names now, though, and Lynn could not remember any of them. She frowned. There was definitely something important about watches she was supposed to have remembered too, but that was long gone. Oh go figure, though. The one time Lynn managed to bring someone into a conversation and they don't speak fucking English. Lynn looked at Gen for a minute and sighed. "Don't worry," she said, reaching into her bag. "I have something for the language barri-" she paused, cocking her head and needing to try once or twice. "berry, bear...barrier, she said, handing Gen the handle. "It's like Mexican sake, Fish," she said. "Zack." She frowned. Why would you choose Zack? You could've been anything. Lynn would've picked a way more badass name, like a big movie star, or a boxer, or _Salamandra. Lynn tensed for a second and looked around the party, but the alcohol seemed to have numbed her enough that by the time the panic had started to set in her brain had confirmed Salamandra wasn't there. _{she's dead like gary and you killed her}. Lynn fumbled into her back pocket, holding her cup between her teeth, and drew out a pack of cigarettes.

"Anybody want one?" she asked, muffled, holding her empty cup in the crook of her arm as she put the cigarette to her teeth. Normally the phoenix was right there, right under the surface, but she thought it had gone to sleep now. Lynn struck her thumbnail against the cigarette like a strike-anywhere match and nothing happened. "Whiskey dick," Lynn muttered quietly, as if she wasn't aware she was speaking at all. The cigarette had her full focus for a few moments, which was the part of alcohol Lynn really liked. There weren't so many thoughts _{tall // Salamandra // four dead // Che // she's so pretty // molotov //} then and it was easier to just focus. "Heh always something to do with whiskey." Lynn finally got the cigarette to light and took a puff, noticing that for once it was burning down at a normal rate. i save so much money when i drink and no buildings have been destroyed today either. i should do this more often

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

Lynn

The warm was coming. It had been a while since Lynn was drunk like this - despite any scientific evidence to the contrary, Lynn was a firm believer that different alcohols induced different drunks. The last time Lynn had been inebriated was in a prison cell, and perhaps owing to that less than illustrious ambiance, it was not the most enjoyable of wine sipping sessions she'd ever had. Tequila had always been a standby, and tequila on an occasion such as this even more so - the fire danced beside her, flickering brighter and bolder with Lynn's arrival, but not dangerously so. The girl's mood was flickering with it, something happy and warm and dancing, and the lanterns almost seemed to pull to her. The sparks of the campfire disproportionately fluttered to her hair rather than the ground or the open air, no matter where Lynn walked in the little clearing. The tequila from earlier was starting to seep in now, like a big fluffiness that dripped from her head down to her words and thoughts.

"Shots!" Lynn said, her teeth flashing. The first time kids have enjoyed shots on this station, huh? Lynn wanted to say, but this was a party, and the disaster was - three hundred dead five of them yours, all yours, all - not what people talked about at parties. Lynn had never really been to a proper party before. She'd been to hangouts, or places where everyone was drinking together, but it wasn't an occasion like this, if that made sense. She was enjoying it. She was vibing it. Had she been noticing the clothes on Eli or Keaton before, the way their jackets hung off the shoulders that stood what felt like half a foot taller than hers? Lynn couldn't remember.

Lynn followed her and Keaton to the table, a slack grin hanging on her face, a stray strand of hair leaning down over her pale forehead. Someone else joined up and it took Lynn a brief moment to remember her. Amelia, Lynn thought. She thought she could see her look afraid for just a minute, but coming up and talking was such an anti-bitch move, a really unexpectedly anti-bitch move coming from her. Lynn stared at her for a second - or maybe five - but Lynn wasn't upset. She would've cattle-branded her with the back of her hand a month ago, but if Amelia had snitched, Gennedy would've put the needle in her weeks ago. He had ample opportunities. No, Amelia had stumbled across something she hadn't, and when things went to hell on the station, she stayed snuggly and cozy in the station. Lynn could understand that. It made Amelia a bit of a coward, but coward was several orders of magnitudes above snitch in the Cordelia Lynn Holmes' caste system. There was a part of Lynn, slithering out from the cracks in her brain loosened apart by liquor, that thought Clarita was probably about Amelia's age by now, and that was about her age by now, and -

"Didn't know I'd be here either," Lynn said, grinning. Was she grinning a lot? Who cared. "People winding up in all sorts of places these days," Lynn said, giggling slightly. Lots of places, all over the place today. I know a guy who's in about a dozen different places right now, and a lady who is too! Gary and Arianna, wouldn't they be a dream...Gary-anna...heh Besides, there were a few people not here that was fine by Lynn. Today was a good day. Nobody was going to fuck that up. Not Amelia, or Gennedy, or the lizard, or nobody. Not nobody at all. "Teleport this shit into your liver," Lynn said, grabbing a jello shot and passing it - possibly warmed - to Amelia. She'd been silly to worry about a set-up or something. There was so much alcohol here nobody would dare try to fuck with her. It felt fun, to be safe. Warm and laughing and it tasted like tequila. Lynn liked it.

"More the merrier!" Lynn said back to Keaton. "Like reindeer." She looked at the edge of the woods where one guy was walking up like a walk-on to the 1976 Saigon chopper gunners b-team. Jesus. He needed some liquor in him. Not super tall. Of course that was relative to Lynn. Big ol' rolex on his wrist. That'd buy a lot more tequila, Lynn thought. Easy mark, too, he came here alone. Lynn frowned. No, she forgot this was the Promise. He could probably see the future or something. Besides, she was already toeing the illegality line with buying liquor under the table and buying Xanax a few dozen feet under where she bought liquor. Lynn blinked, brow furrowing for a brief moment. Had she had some today? She took some to help her sleep, but had that been this morning or the night before?

"I'll leave one on the table," Lynn said in magnanimous compromise. "The other stays with me, under the table." Lynn looked up at Keaton. She was pretty. She wasn't that much taller than Lynn, really, which Lynn found comforting. Older, though. She was skinny but the good kind. Normally these things would've jabbed at Lynn's state of mind like hornets but tonight they were bees and they stung once and snapped off. No more buzz. Lynn was buzzed. Buzzing. Buzz. Keaton was staring at it and Lynn could tell her Sherlock shit was going looney tunes. Didn't she ever not overthink things? Lynn would have to help her with that sometime, she resolved. "Hey, Denim," Lynn said, "Stop trying to do calculus on it and just drink." Lynn ran a pinky along the rim of the jello cup and then squeezed it out into her mouth. "Ah, love jello. Used to have it all the time." Half true, Lynn thought. I always gave it to Megan when it came at lunches, but I guess I did HAVE it. Keaton still looked all wound up, like if somebody had cross-stitched a picture of an angry person with chain mail. I'll get her tipsy, Lynn said. Dead girls oughta have a little fun. But it was hard to remember they were dead tonight - increasingly hard - and Lynn was enjoying it. She looked back to Eli, who was older too. How long had she been on the Promise? How much shit had gone down? A quiet voice wondered how many fights she'd seen, or how many people _{she'd seen die in four years, or four weeks, or four people} or more of these dances. Denzel would know how to shop for stuff, Lynn thought, looking over her for a moment. Or even Amelia, fuck. What was her nickname? I can't call her Amelia. If Denim and Denzel got married their name would be Denzel. Garriana. Heh. Lynn scanned around again, where Beth or whatever Eli's friend was flirting with some dude, which made Lynn frown for a second. Then she looked back and shadow guy was still in the shadows doing shadow shit. If he was like ten feet further back I could have that Rolex, she thought. "Did you guys know fake Rolexes tick?" Lynn said idly to the group, looking around. "And - " she grinned wider, like a shark that's seen a "Fish!" Lynn shouted. "Splish splash your ass over here," she said, spotting the ethnic unicorn prince-prancing over to the treeline. I should make a funny joke about his parents later, Lynn thought. There's so many, Lynn thought, And the best part is he can't get me back. She was absentmindedly swirling the tequila bottle in her hand. If one's cards were entirely on the table, Lynn's would reveal that she was hoping this guy would trip and fall again on the walk over. Or just to mess with him. He seemed pretty reclusive when she'd tried to help him put his teeth back in his mouth on that treadmill. Holing up in his shell. Like a turtle. Turtle fish. Turtle Fish.

Christ, if Rolex stood in the dark any longer he was going to buy a trench coat and start flashing them. Wouldn't that be fitting for today. Nice of somebody to invite Gary! Lynn wondered if she should invite him over. No, she thought. I'm bad with people. "Hey," Lynn said, nudging Eli's forearm with the top of her head. She left a faint smudge of ash. "Somebody wth more, whatever, like, charm or shit should go tell tall dark and blandsome to come take a shot and start talking to people." She unscrewed the tequila and took another pull. "Any of you three qualify." Lynn looked at him for a minute longer. This one is a male Spoons, she determined. No eye contact. Military jacket? Not as a para. Probably his grandpa from Vietnam or something. Everybody's grandpa fought in Vietnam. A...Forks. Lynn looked back up. Keaton was watching her a bit, as was Eli. Like they were waiting for something. I'm not the one who PMS'es into a crocodile, damnit, she wanted to say, but talking about him was not what she felt particularly inclined to do right now. She wasn't sure what else they'd be looking at her for. Like, worried, almost. Did they think she couldn't handle her liquor? I was drinking before you bitches went bra shopping, Lynn also contemplated. And before I went bra shopping. Which still hasn't hapened, so, you know. Whatever. Lynn sipped again. "I'm gonna grab a beer," Lynn said, putting the tequila in Deaton's arms before meandering over to the table and searching for anything she recognized. Wine. Who drank wine? She picked up the bottle and examined the label. Malbec. From Argentina. She put it down. There was a long list of things she did not want to think about tonight and they consisted mostly of Lizard Boat, Salamandra, the station, Gennedy, anything that wasn't the alcohol in front of her, and Che. She would accept topical conversation about Fish's latest mile times and estimates on how many shots she could do, which Lynn intended to disprove entirely. The rest of the alcohol was weird. There was hard seltzer, and while Lynn had said she didn't want to fight tonight, she felt vaguely obligated to slap whoever drank that, and there was vodka, which was at least acceptable, and some Jack Daniel's, which was cool.

"Oh, sweet," Lynn thought, seeing Fireball. Lynn grabbed a plastic cup, frowning. "Damnit," she muttered. She searched for a tray of pot brownies someone had brought, grabbing the aluminum foil that covered it and wrapping the base of the cup in it. Then she poured a mix of ice and Coke and Fireball together and swirling it for a moment. "Why the fuck did I bother with ice?" Lynn thought said, turning back to the group. She didn't feel as weird about how many people here she didn't know before. There were boys, too. For a sudden minute a thought smashed through all the dance-happy haze, that thought being that Lynn could kiss anyone here she wanted. She could grab them by the hand and pull them into the forest and forget all the fuck about the Promise tonight. Lynn would've stomped that thought out with a size six and a half steel toed boot any other night. Tonight it was intriguing. Like Fireball.

Lynn walked back. "So, what was everybody's first drink? And when?" Lynn asked. This was how people made conversation, right? She didn't know what to talk about with these people. Delinzel was into Vietnamese food and Keaton sometimes just like thought too much so Lynn didn't know what to say. Why bother, when the other person's just smarter? I should get her dumbfuck drunk, Lynn thought. She blinked, realizing she'd swayed slightly. Heh. Race to the bottom.

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

LYNN

DENEM: Campground by the forest. Eli’s waiting

Lynn snapped the phone shut, leaning back against the door of her room. Something about her was prickled by that, something she could not fully identify. A part of her thought this might be a set-up - after all, the no cameras of the woods cut both ways, and with the commotion of Homecoming, it would be a while before anyone noticed two missing teenagers. A part of Lynn considered not going, of barring the door shut with her desk chair and enjoying a small lake's reserve of tequila by herself, not risking any mutilation by lizard claws or elbows to the nose or having to blow herself through the wall of a kitchen again.

But the rest of her knew the opposite was true - if she squirreled away and this wasn't a sting, she was going to look like a bitch, especially after she gave her word she'd be there. And looking like a bitch was worse than looking dead. Lynn dropped her bag on the bed and reread the message one more time. Eli - well, Lynn called her Denzel - was alright, but she was a bit confused. Why were they out there? This had to be some kind of party? That tracked. Lynn ran herself through the scenarios and was able to talk herself down from the nerve-jump jitters she'd worked herself up to a moment ago. It's just a party, Lynn told herself. And if it's a sting, you will turn that campground into fucking Nagasaki with all the liquor in your bag.

Lynn took off her work clothes, markedly turning away from the Promise-issued mirror in her room as she did so. Lynn threw the apron, black jeans and t-shirt into the corner, yanking the no-slip tennis shoes off and throwing them still tied to the other side. Lynn went to throw on normal clothes but paused for a moment. Through the window (which Lynn kept shuttered, and slathered with a thin film of vaseline, so as to detect intrusion) she could hear the roaring music of the whole station set to party. The pretty dresses. The make-up. The glimpse of the patrons in the front of house she'd seen had all been dolled up too.

Lynn walked over to her dresser and opened it up with a grunt. Of course they'd given her the one that jammed. It had only been a week and a half ago she had actually put her clothes away in the dresser as opposed to living out of her duffel bag. Excepting the last year and a half of her life, it had been a while since she'd been in one spot long enough to really really settle. Lynn rummaged through her things. "Fuck," she muttered, remembering. The mall. Damn him, she thought, thinking of Archie inviting them, Archie grabbing her, Archie making a butcher's fuckery of the whole afternoon. She'd meant to get clothes and hadn't. She had thought she might...well Keaton was always put together, and...

Lynn kicked the dresser and rubbed at her forehead for a moment. Then she glanced back in and pulled out one of her two pairs of jeans, electing the one which had the most material still intact. She grabbed a t-shirt and turned -

There was a woman in the corner of her room.

"Bitch!" Lynn screamed, cocking back.

She blinked. There was nothing. She walked over, throwing her arms to catch someone invisible. Nothing. No noise. She rubbed at her eyes and looked again, her heart thundering in her ears. It - fuck. It was a shadow. She'd - her hair, it glowed, it cast shadows sometimes, and she'd thought it...it for sure was...

Lynn leaned back against the dresser for a moment, breathing, her hair and skin glowing like the bellows of a forge as she did so. Lynn threw her clothes to the ground and sat down at her backpack, fumbling with the zipper for a full thirty seconds. "Motherfucker," she muttered, finally managing to grasp it firmly and pull it apart. She wasn't going to lose her shit the day she got told the funniest joke of her life. She unscrewed the bottle and took a deep, long pull. The tequila burned running down her throat - one of the few times Lynn had ever felt something burn, and oh if she didn't love it - and gurgle in her empty stomach. She screwed the cap back on tight, not wanting to dowse her bag in Jose Cuervo. Lynn stood back up and grabbed her jeans up off the floor, sliding into them with utter ease, back pointedly to the mirror. She threaded her belt through the loops and cinched it tight before looking back at her other clothes. She had like three workout tanktops, a handful of ratty t-shirts, her hoodie. Lynn elected for the most presentable of the t-shirts - a black and yellow Wu Tang Clan shirt, and wriggled into it, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. She left her hoodie on her bed - Lynn had no intention of fighting anyone tonight, and if someone vomited all over it, she'd have to. Lynn walked into the bathroom and washed her mouth out with water and mouthwash for a moment before heading out, hair still bound back in its work-required ponytail. She locked the door behind her and made her way toward the campgrounds.

Lynn kept reminding herself of the Gary news, which was just beautiful, but it seemed like the gold-happy feeling that had filled her up a few minutes ago was shaken. Lynn wasn't sure why, and it was pissing her off. She was just trying to get trashed, and somehow that was proving too complicated. Along the way, Lynn passed a few roaming packs of would-be Homecoming kings and queens, whose photo ops she interrupted with no semblance of remorse. Rich fuckers, Lynn thought. Still, Lynn buried how annoying all their stupid shit was, and when she saw ATVs of cops roll past she buried the cold twisting feeling in her spine she got each time she saw the Promise's security, and when she passed the people sitting on the patios of restaurants she buried how hungry she felt. Lynn had blown her cash on the liquor, and figured that she was going to be hungry regardless, so she might as well be hungry and drunk.

After a few minutes of buoying herself with the mental image of Gary trying to talk his way out of an ultimately fatal ass-beating, Lynn stepped into the trees, letting one hand fall back to her backpack, fingers gripping the zipper. The woods were quiet, and Lynn was all to aware of how close she was to where she'd found the doll. She listened intently. The light was from firelight, something Lynn knew instinctively even before her eyes could pick up on the flickering campfire, and she could hear people talking about schoolwork, which wound her down. "Thank God," Lynn muttered, more relieved she got to just party than relieved it wasn't a set-up. That would've just been a headache. Lynn walked through the trees, the lantern next to her head flaring briefly as she stepped into the campfire. Lynn recognized a grand total of two people there, which was something of a mixed blessing, but it felt a little more mixed than blessing at the moment.

"What's up," Lynn said, reaching into her bag and, for the first time in her life, doing something that was unambiguously going to win people over and make them like her. She pulled out two full handles of tequila. She had limes and salt in her backpack, and even some beers, too. Lynn felt it was discourteous to not have a 40 oz, even if it had been two years since she'd had one. "Who wants tequila?"

Eli and Keaton were both standing next to each other, like some kind of denim Voltron. She was going to need a better nicknaming system. Lynn walked up, getting a read on the group. Eli was grabbing onto her literally and figuratively. Eli looked like she knew everyone here; Keaton knew only Eli. It made Lynn like Keaton a smidge more, but that may have been the warm cloud that was starting to seep into her mind. "'Sup sluts," Lynn said. She blinked. Maybe Eli's friends were squares. Eh. Oh well.

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

Lynn

Lynn pulled a spoon out of the sudsy water of the dishwashing sink of El Vaquero. It glowed red in her bare hands. She threw it in the rack with the others, then resumed scrubbing. In the front of house, traditional mariachi music flowed from the speakers. In the back, rap reigned supreme.

Dinners were always busy, and Lynn was grateful for that - she was trying her absolute hardest to stay as busy as possible these last few days. Keaton had told her about the meeting after she left, and it had left Lynn with questions, questions that spun in her head and birthed more questions, like drinking saltwater when you were lost at sea. The faceless men were anywhere, in Lynn's mind, lurking in the shadows, right behind her as she showered, as she washed dishes, as she slept. Well, as she tried to sleep. Lynn had not found it easy to rest lately. There were things waiting for her. The noose was growing tighter around their necks, and Lynn's feet were starting to twitch. They don't know yet, Lynn thought. The ghostfuckers don't know what we know. Not yet. If they did, we'd be dead.

She put a plate on the rack. When was the last time she'd slept a full night? Her mind struggled to remember as the music blared and the angry shouting matches of line cooks and waiters flared up. Lynn kept scrubbing. Scrubbing was simple. For a few hours, Lynn could rack up some cash and not think.

"Despacia," Ignacio shouted at her, dropping a pile of dishes beside her.

"Tírate a tu mama," Lynn shouted back, shoving them into the scalding water. Tonight was Homecoming. What a fucking joke. She and Keaton were fairly confident nothing would go down tonight, in terms of explosions, or terrorist attacks, or four dead, gone, Salamandra's skull against the wall or anything else. Lynn was grateful for that, but the alternative irked her almost as much. Someone would want to invite her to something, she was sure - potentially Archie, the thought of whom still made her stomach twist. He's a fucking fool, Lynn thought, scraping a plate clean. Big, dumb puppy. Why did he grab me? Any other woman would've tased her ass or pepper sprayed him. Why would you grab me from behind? Damn you. Lynn had resolved to bury him. Hanging around him was only going to get her killed by the lizard or get someone else hurt. It happened every time. But there was something more that twisted at her, gnawed along with the leech-like questions that latched on and wouldn't let go. Something like flowers. Something like coming after her when she stormed off. Why'd he follow me? And why'd he grab me?

Lynn shook her head and kept working. She certainly wasn't going to any Homecoming dance. No one had asked her, which was whatever. She didn't talk to enough people to really be a candidate. How did that even happen, anyway? Lynn had stopped going to school before dances happened back on earth. What was even the point of one? Beyond that, there was something about dresses and makeup and pictures that made Lynn squirm in her skin. It made her think of sisters. Lucy's kid would be three or four by now. What if it was a para. That'd be fucking rich.

"Cordelia Lynn Holmes." Lynn stopped cold, steam pouring off her skin. She turned and looked at the bag next to her, staring down at it. Lynn turned off the water and knelt down. The voice, female and mechanical, repeated itself.

"What the fuck do you want?" Lynn asked. She could've sworn she turned it off. She...she could've sworn she did. Lynn could remember turning it off. Had she? Hadn't she? Lynn was forgetting things lately. Her grades were slipping. Who gives a shit, Lynn told herself. You'll be dead by Christmas. Lynn opened the bag after wiping her hands dry on her apron, which draped down to her ankles despite being the smallest size they had. She unzipped her bag and pulled out her phone, turned on.

Cara paused for a moment in agitation. "I have important news for you, from back home."

Lynn stared. "Is this some kind of game?"

"I only give unsolicited alerts in the event of disasters, emergencies, or personal tragedies. Your case worker requested that you be informed that your foster father, Gary Wendell Rogers, has passed away."

Lynn stared down at the phone, dumbstruck. "...what? Are you fucking with me, Carol?"

If it were possible for a machine to bristle, perhaps Cara would've. "No, Miss Holmes. He passed away three days ago."

"How?" Lynn asked, feeling something like a big warm cloud rising up inside her, swirling up into her face and pulling at her cheeks into a big wide grin. "Oh, Carrie, you gotta tell me how. C'mon."

"...you may find the circumstances of his demise traumatic, or - "

"Oh like I can't google the obituary anyway, just save me the hassle."

"...he was violently stabbed in prison by the other inmates. Initial reports indicate it was a crude form of justice meted out by the others. I am sorry for your loss."

"I'm not! Thanks, bitch!" Lynn turned the phone off and threw it back in her bag, turning back to the sink. Lynn giggled. She started to full-on laugh. "Holy shit," Lynn said, her eyes watering as she keeled over the sink. "Oh holy shit, this is like Christmas come fucking early." Lynn, cackling, took her shift break, laughing too hard to light a cigarette out by the dumpsters behind the restaurant. "Oh holy shit, I'd forgotten he was even in there," Lynn wheezed. If Archie thought his hand got burned he should've seen that fucker's. Hah! Lynn's break ran five minutes over. I will buy Cara a drink or set her up with a nice lamp or USB stick or something for this. Oh Christ this is hilarious.

Lynn finished her shift as inefficiently as possible before pulling aside Ignacio. She handed him a roll of cash and he returned with two full bottles of tequila, which Lynn dutifully shoved into her bag, throwing her hoodie back on. He eyed them, and then Lynn, thin and short, a hesitant look creeping over his face.

"¿Cuantos años tienes, chiquíta?"

Lynn grinned. "Demasiado para Gary!"

Ignacio cocked his head in confusion, but Lynn did not particularly care if anyone else got the joke. She was still reeling from the punchline. Lynn left the restaurant out back, pulling out her phone and half expecting Cara to say something bitchy. For once, the thoughts of the Promise and Salamandra and Che and everything were slipping from her mind. She was weary from work and riding the high of hearing about a good old-fashioned ass-kicking. Lynn scrolled the wheel down to Keaton's number and punched out a quick text.

"What's the fucking move? I've got us hooked up. Tonight we are CELEBRATING."

Lynn figured she'd pass the word along to Eli if she wanted. She'd hung with Eli a few times, mostly in Keaton's presence. Was Eli cool? Debatable. Lynn still didn't trust Keaton, but, you know, maybe she relied on her somewhat, or sometimes enjoyed being around her, but she didn't trust her, because trusting someone was how you got fucked over. It was just that when Lynn thought of who she wanted to hang with tonight, Keaton happened to be the first, but that was solely because they had to keep up pretenses if Ebony and Ivory were stalking them, or the Promise wanted to know why they kept meeting up. Nothing more. And Eli was just like, another alibi.They were both...Lynn didn't know. They were older, and...sometimes Lynn thought about them and it was like thinking about the dresses and everyone she'd passed on the way here, tall and long-legged, faces contoured like fucking marble sculptures, with her smoking a cigarette and pulling back her flickering hair in a lazy band. But those times seemed fewer and further between. Especially tonight. Tonight, Lynn was getting fucking annihilated.

Lynn grinned - wider. She hadn't stopped grinning in an hour. It was a crime to not share good liquor. Tonight they were going to pour out a whole ass handle. If Arianna showed up, Lynn would buy her a round. She pulled her phone back out and punched out, "You know what, bring Eli." Lynn would pour a shot for anyone who wanted one tonight. Fish, Denim, Breakfast Club, maybe even that Paw Patrol ass cop.

And Archie? Or Natalie?

Lynn hesitated, a brief stutter-step in her bouncy walk back to her dorm. She...she wasn't sure about that. But it didn't matter. Fuck it. She earned this.

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

Lynn

Lynn sighed. The air shimmered as it left her mouth. "Fish. 'Cause you're new." She stared at him for a moment. Yeah he's never been to juvy. "Fuck it. Fish because you looked like one flopping around down there." Gen moved a notch higher in Lynn's book by disengaging her grip from him quickly but subtly. Finally someone on this station who isn't drowning in feelings. Spoons would've held my hand and tried to do a palm reading or something. Keaton might've done something similar, she figured, but it would've been coded as a question, as a beat-around-the-bush, not-asking-what-I'm-really-asking type deal. Lynn could respect that. It was still annoying, but it...it didn't bother Lynn as much.

Lynn took a step back, adusting the bag over her shoulder. She opened her mouth and closed it for a moment, gears whirring in her head. This guy was clearly trying to get back in shape. Lynn could respect that. His time on that treadmill, even factoring in lost time for faceplanting, wasn't exactly an Olympic qualifier, but everybody started somewhere. Not working with super speed here, I'm guessing. He dressed like he came from money, but he didn't have the douchebag swagger that usually accompanied it. That did strike Lynn as interesting. He was tall, and in Lynn's experience, that skin complexion usually got the baby factories open for business, but he didn't have that confidence about him. The OJ glove probably counteracts it. Not asking why he wears it, though. With my luck it'll be the last thing his dead mother gave him and then I have to talk about that for thirty minutes. So Fish had self-confidence issues. Lynn felt reasonably confident on the call about him being a virgin. For a brief moment, unbidden, Lynn wondered if Archie was a virgin, and the thought was gone as soon as it came. She shook it out of her mind. What did that have to do with anything?

There was something more here, though. She couldn't put a finger on it. He just seemed jumpy. Not a dick, which was a welcome surprise, and not interested in needless emotional bullshit, which was also pretty chill in Lynn's book. She'd throw him a bone. "Hey, you - " Lynn paused, again, trying to figure out a way to put the words together that wouldn't make this guy feel like a bitch. Lynn knew her way around a gym, as it was one of the few leisure activities permitted in juvy, and Lynn had taken to getting as strong as she possibly could. Given her frame and the diet in a parahuman juvy, there was a remarkably low ceiling to that endeavor, but she'd tried nonetheless, her frail arms hammering out push-ups or shadowboxing in her room when rec time was cancelled. Rec time getting cancelled was pretty frequent. Lynn was only sometimes to blame. "You don't really look like you know what you're doing, no disrespect," she added quickly, as if that somehow made the sentence courteous, "So if you want me to show you around or something I will. But if not, that's cool. I'll be over there." Lynn nodded and walked away. Keaton would've known a better way of handling that. She remembered the first time she'd tried to bench press, unassisted by her powers, and the way the bar had pushed her arms straight down to the bench and dug into her chest, Lynn wheezing to lift it back up. In a rare moment of humanity in that place, one of the girls had snorted, lifted it up off her, and mercifully kept it to herself. Lynn tried to pay things forward. She didn't like being in debt to people - so this way it was like she was smudging that debt away.

Lynn sat down in front of the punching bag, cinching the wraps on her hands tighter and letting her fingers dance for a moment. Lynn never really bothered with pussy stuff like stretching or warming up. Practically speaking, she didn't need it - Lynn's powers could correct a sprain or pulled muscle relatively easily - but it was largely because she thought it looked completely ridiculous. Lynn got into position, weight dancing from one foot to the other. When she moved, she was lighter than she should've been, even for a girl her size - she almost seemed to float as she bounced, drilling out quick jabs into the bag. There was a faint smell of burning polyester, but Lynn was doing her best to keep her heat down as low as she possibly could, and as a result it was fairly minimal. On the ground beside her, an iPod whose history of ownership was best left unquestioned bellowed out turn-of-the-millenia rap and hip-hop, and Lynn soon fell into its rhythm, dancing and ducking and striking. Lynn had little in the way of real form boxing training, but seemed to have a vague idea of what she was doing, and learned at least the fundamentals passably well. Her head stayed on a constant bounce, her hands flashing back up to her face after she struck the bag. After thirty minutes or so, her clothes dripping with sweat, she gathered her things and moved over to the free weights. Someone with less concern for self-preservation may have giggled at the sight of the barely five foot girl struggling to reach up and grab some of the heavier plates, but perhaps may have stopped giggling as she effortlessly slid them onto the bars. Lynn stopped and looked at the plates for a moment, panting.

"What the fuck is this kilogram bullshit?" Lynn muttered.