Malleable

[Emily]

I'm posting my story here as I write it for NaNoWriMo. If you haven't heard me rant about it yet you haven't been paying attention. Without further ado, the prologue:


Silence. In between the forced concentration of someone trying to decide how this story should be written, silence’s pool was stretched beyond its boundaries. A siren began blaring, men’s shouts rose in the distance, and in defiance of its surrounding a cool and calm silence began spreading away and out of its normal confines.

Normally silence mixed in with other emotions and experiences to create a thick, steady blend of concentration. Dedication, logical thinking, and free-flowing emotions were a few things that assisted in one becoming absorbed in his work.

Sadly a mind in shambles lends itself to few things, and concentration is not one of them. In the current situation his self preservation instincts were so strong that caring about anyone else was out of the question. The free-flowing emotions of urgent terror and not much else had completely overridden the logical part of his brain.

Silence was completely isolated, and it made up the only calm part of his mind. Yes, it made it a little harder to think, but not nearly as hard as the surrounding and internal chaos did.

There were screams now, shouts and gunfire and more sirens. Every new noise was shattering, ripping open scars and forcing cracks between the connections of thought in his mind. Eventually one crack went straight through the pool that had been growing, and the quiet easily slipped into the fault. The spreading pool of silence really felt like a balm, soothing whatever thoughts or emotions it touched.

Or perhaps a numbing medicine would have been a more accurate description.

From there it leaked unnoticed into the spiderweb of cracks that reached across an entire mind. Islands of ideas and thought and knowledge were all isolated from one another, the broken gaps they’d had to work to cross now impossibly filled with a sticky, black substance that dulled independent work and made connecting to one another impossible. Still, the sense of urgency from before was almost gone and the chaos dimmed in light of this new muddling clam.

Was it really harder to think than before?

...

He couldn’t remember.

There was something important. People were counting on him.

Weren’t they?

A cluster of memories that had somehow managed to stay together made their presence known, and with a before unseen vigor the author ripped open his eyes to see the room his body had been in the entire time, though his mind had been momentarily lost somewhere far away. A desk, stack of papers, and quill pen that looked oddly out of place in the decidedly modern setting all sat in front of him. Though something was horribly off.

A shimmer filled the room, twisting objects as they seemed less and less real. Bodies besides his were comatose in the room, mangled beyond recognition for a reason unrelated to the gunfire. He’d never seen something so horrible in reality.

He gave the false-feeling room one last look.

That’s right.

He knew what they wanted him to do now.

All he was needed to do was finish writing a story.

How stupid.

He’d woken up from his pleasant sense of calm because a few insignificant characters wanted him to write a story.

Feeling betrayed by the earlier urgent feeling, he let a massive wave of relief rush across him. Who knew relief could have so much impact?

The strain of holding together his mind in such impossible circumstances, of hiding the cracks and ignoring the sense of dull thought, meant something had to give somewhere. Suddenly he had no energy left. The lack of any effort put into motion something that could only be described as whiplash. The force smashed his islands of thought in two.

And all that the silence had to do was quietly seep into those cracks, as was its nature.

One last thought passed through the author’s mind. Wouldn’t it be so much easier to just let that numbness overflow? As soon as the temptation was even considered it happened, with no mental barrier left to even want to fight back. His last few strongholds were lost forever, and at the same time the world around him gave a violent tug. Maybe it dissipated or shattered or exploded or stayed right where it was. Not that he really had the ability to care any more.

The out of place ink bottle threatened to roll off of the table, but was trapped under its author’s limp head. Had there been anyone to see it in that quickly fading reality, they would have sworn the pool of ink looked just like black blood leaking from his mind. It ran off of the table and onto what used to be a floor. Before that world was gone for good, the ink stickily filled the spiderweb of cracks between the tile.

It didn’t matter. After all, it was only a fairy tale.

[Emily]

Be warned, the above was written like four times and edited to death. From here on it's all straight off the NaNo unedited press, and will be significantly less decent.

Chapter 1:

Once when I was little I stepped out onto a stage. The curtain was about to rise, I could hear the small audience whispering, and I was so nervous I could’ve died right there. My younger self was sure there was nothing more terrifying. My costume was hot and choking and the bigger kids were pushing to get into place. The low buzz of the audience, the terrified eyes of everyone getting ready to perform... Even passing out seemed like a good alternative to staying where I was.

Then the curtain rose and all of that disappeared. The people seated in plastic chairs below me stared up at me and the rest of my kindergarden class, all of whom looked nervous as I’d felt a second ago, but it didn’t matter. It was like my own emotions had taken a holiday so I could function properly. I was as calm and collected as any five year old could be. Even having to say my whole entire line couldn’t pull me out of the kind of Zen I’d entered.

That’s how I feel right now. Like every other play I’ve ever been in. Only a new place, a new cast, and a new character to become.

“Ohmygod, are you okay?” a shrill voice practically demanded from above me. I feel my back pressed up against something that feels suspiciously like a chain link fence, and the rough concrete below me scrapes unpleasantly against my clothes as I shift out of my slouch. I haven’t even opened my eyes yet.

3

I coughed hard, feeling a hot, wet liquid burble into then out of my mouth.

2

“Just stay here and don’t even move or anything! I don’t even know if you /can/ move.... Uh, just wait while I find someone to help out where do those guys go when I need them I don’t even-”

1

Any of my remaining personal emotions evaporate to be replaced with a cold, solid apathy. My creation seems to have turned out perfectly.

Showtime.

My eyelids flutter open, ignoring the light that /burns/ them like nothing else ever has. Long copper hair obnoxiously reflects the brightness to the point that I can only vaguely make out a worried face floating somewhere in the middle of it all. For a split second the hardness in my eyes is replaced with a desperation that echoes deeply in a quiet voice I can’t yet recognize as my own.

“Please... No hospitals. Too many people....” I cough again, sending wet splattering as I try to stand up. The world tilts, the lights burns a little brighter, and I collapse in my savior’s arms.

Curtain. End Act 1 Scene 1.

---

It was warm and fuzzy and dangerous, wherever I was. Maybe something might seem contradictory in that description, but it was almost an indescribable feeling to know that something bad was hiding just behind the temptation to drift back to sleep. Something cotton, a blanket, was probably laid on top of her a while ago, but the tossing I'd done while asleep had wrapped the thin covering around her until she was cocooned. It smelled like the last person that used it, or maybe a musty closet, or maybe one of those smells was coming from the thin pillow under my head.

Outside of the cocoon there was muffled noise, yells that made it feel like there was more danger *out there* than *in here.* Rolling onto my back, the teenaged girl stared at the ceiling and did a pitiful job of fighting the tempation to sleep again. Something lurked in my dreams, but an irrational lethargy seemed to take over whenever I even considered getting off the couch. Yes, couch. It was too narrow and uncomfortable to be a bed. Then there was a loud slamming noise, a door being thrown open, and the arguing voices stopped being muffled.

"That isn't the point. The point is you went and did something stupid *agin* without asking any of us." A voice that managed to be both low and loud at once was the first one I heard clearly.

"Lay off, Cormac. Just because Alex was trying to help someone doesn't mean she's lost her mind. It’s what we’re supposed to be doing anyway." Another male, tired voice that made it sound like I was hearing the tail end of an argument that had been going on far too long.

"Hold up, I reserve the right to be the brainless one here! You can't go and give my job to someone else. I'll have to go start a union or something."

"Please don't argue because of me! I'm sorry, okay?"

"Don't apologize Alex! Cormac's the one being a jerk here."

"Felix, don't! I really guess I should have thought it through better, or...”

"It doesn't really matter anyway. What's done is done, and we’re home now anyway. So where is this mystery guest anyway?”

"Well, about that...."

"Alex?"

"I think she's still asleep, but on the couch about five feet away?" I, having already gone slack as soon as the voices started, closed my eyes and let my breathing become shallow.

"Oh, great. I always wanted to make the world's worst first impression on a sick person! Now my dream has finally come true." Someone walked in front of me, and I made sure not to move away as the speaker kneeled down and looked at me face- to- face. "Geez, what did you *do* to her? She looks awful." Pride stung, I decided then was the perfect moment to groan and shift a little. It didn't have the desired effect, and the hot breath on my face didn't go away as I cracked open my eyes. Even then the room was too bright and blurry to tell what I was seeing. A giant yellow blur... I sat up slowly, black dots distracting from what little I could make out. The blanket fell to my side, and the feeling of something bad hiding just beneath them was momentarily removed as well.

"What are you even- Wouldja move it, Felix? Give the sick and wounded a little breathing room. Even if no one else ever gets the privilege." I'd been able to blink a couple of times since my official arrival into the conscious world, and my vision was now clear enough to see a teenaged kid about my age get pulled back by the collar onto the ground and away from my face. My now- dubbed- savior was standing slightly above, with thick hair that was more fire truck red than anything I'd ever seen. I blinked again, this time in the direction of the person on the floor below me. His hair was oddly long and blonde, explaining the yellow blur I'd seen before. These giant blue eyes were looking up at his attacker liked a kicked puppy considering biting back, and the scene resembled that of two siblings ready to break into a play-fight to the point that something inside me wanted to chuckle. I stared at the two instead, and the shorter blonde shifted uncomfortably under my gaze.

"Sorry about them! The guys around here get a little bit rowdy sometimes. They really should be more *considerate.*" A girl shot in between the two before things could progress any further, then gave them both a halfhearted glare that did the job of clearing the two away from the couch. She had long hair that was the same red as the tall boy's in the same way a rusty nail resembles a fire truck, and I recognized it from somewhere.

A little bit of confusion crept into my blank expression, and I opened my mouth to speak. Everyone went silent as I spent the next few seconds coughing, then the mood relaxed as actual sound came out of my mouth. "Oh, you're that girl. The one that, ah, thank you." She smiled, tilting her head to the side ever so slightly. "Where am I?" I asked, surprising even myself with my bluntness.

She smiled and sat down on the other end of the couch, looking like she wanted to apologize then get up when I moved my feet off the couch to plant them on the (cold) ground. I wasn't sure why, but something about being that close to someone - even if it was just my feet - felt offsetting. "I took you back to my house." Someone behind her cleared his throat. "Okay, *our* house. I hope you don't mind, but you seemed so desperate. Oh! And now I'm being rude."

"And you are...?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! My name is Alex. The one with no sense of personal space is Felix, the one that pulled Felix out of your face is Liam, and the one brooding in the corner is named Cormac." At the mention of "the one brooding in the corner" I turned around to face someone I worryingly hadn't noticed before. Head spinning a little from the sudden movement, I nodded at an older teenaged guy (were there no adults anywhere in the vicinity?) that looked like he was trying to make me disappear my glaring into my head hard enough. Jet black hair, a scowling face, hands shoved deep into the pockets of a leather jacket, it all indicated that he was going to react to any surprises rather grumpily, to put it lightly. On this specific occasion, the lucky surprise just happened to be me.

I never got the chance to hear him speak at that moment because, much like me, he opted to simply stare until given an answer. Something in me wanted to laugh at him as he leaned on the door with arms crossed as if to prevent my escape. All of his black clothing was getting along swimmingly with the still-remaining dots in my vision. I stared back nonetheless, giving nothing away, before turning back around. Alex spoke up again in a faux- cheery voice that was obviously trying to distract from the potential mood killer. I can only assume she didn't want me to be terrified and try to leave immediately. Brooding corner beside me said he was hoping I'd do exactly that. Did that make Liam and Felix neutral territory?

"You guys, since we're all in agreement that Alex did the right thing in helping someone in need of it," three pairs eyes turned towards Cormac when the red head, Liam, made his jab, "I think we should all give our guest some time to recover so we can talk things over. Sorry, Alex didn't mention your name?"

"Samantha."

"Right, Samantha. Will you please make yourself comfortable while we give you some quiet?" Translation: We need to talk about things while you're not in earshot if you would kindly not eavesdrop.

"Dude, it's so weird when you talk all formally like that..." Felix muttered as he headed toward a door I assumed lead to another room.

"And leave her alone in here?" I shifted to get a decent look at Cormac, who probably would have crossed his arms to accentuate his point if they hadn't been in that position already. He settled for a raised eyebrow.

Alex looked at me hesitantly. "I could stay in here with her, but-"

"No." Surprisingly, Liam interjected before Cormac could even get the chance to open his mouth to do the same. "Look, no offense or anything, but we kind of don't know you at all." I nodded my understanding and he flashed me a thankful grin.

"I wouldn't worry about it. In all honesty I don't think I can even stand up right now. I regret to inform you my grand getaway will have to wait."

"It doesn't really matter anyway, Cormac. She can't go anywhere but through the next room or outside from here, and I doubt you'd be heartbroken if she left. Stop whining about everything and just come on already." During the mini skirmish most of the occupants of the room had drifted towards the indicated door except for Cormac, who was still leaning obstinately on the door that lead to the street outside. He seemed to finally give in, however, and walked past me without a second glance. He was the last one to file into what looked like a cramped kitchen, and I noted that his shadow from under said door didn't move from directly in front of it. Like the sickly girl that could barely stand was going to charge in there in the hope of catching them off guard.

Or maybe I should retract the "barely able to stand part." A few seconds after they were all gone from sight I slowly stood up to find myself in a significantly better physical situation than I'd been five minutes ago. I was still exhausted, but as my brain began to shut itself off for sleep it felt like the pounding in my head and chest lessened also. I decided to be daring and slowly elevate myself off the couch. No dizziness or black spots to be spoken of. Remarkable.

Unfortunately my good luck likes to play hide and seek of a kind. A feeling of something sinister crouched just in the shadows of my newfound stability, but I don’t believe there was anything I could have done to avoid the next few events.


A small decorative mirror was on the opposite wall, and I saw my new face in it for the first time. It was disturbingly familiar, really, and seeing it was a feeling akin to exploding the walls of a dam. I was short, with long black hair and a sweet, round face pale enough to attest to having never seen a day of sunlight. It was almost enough to make the desperation rising in me manifest. Almost. Round gray eyes stared back at me silently and didn't portray a single hint of what was going on behind them. It was an expression eerie on the face I only kind of recognized because I couldn't have been over fifteen. I didn't know someone remaining easily stoic could choke on their own tears, but there's a first time for everything. The mirror made me take notice of what I was wearing for the first time, too. A strangely bland straight, white dress that had been recently stained with something thick and black and warm....

I gagged on the very same substance, doubled over and on the floor before I could draw breath in preparation for the horrible lurching of something trying to *crawl* its way out of me. It really was rude to stain the floors of people who had been human enough to invite me into their home. It was sad how weak I was, and some foreign part of me was considerate enough to remind me of that when I let out a pitiful groan in between the heaves. It didn't take long at all for the occupants of the next room to come rushing in, dull red hair leading the charge, and someone's authoritative "She stays" was the last thing I heard before the dark in my head and lungs took over my vision too and my vision went black. It was oddly comforting to know I was being smothered by something so familiar, and the feeling of something dangerous in the safety followed me into my dreams.

[Emily]

Some of chapter 2:

I woke up to the constant throb in my head and a horrible taste in my mouth for the third time that day. The vague feeling of "something bad" hadn't gone away. In fact, it seemed to be taking over my thoughts a little bit, clenching up my chest and jaws in anticipation for... something. Naturally. Life couldn't go and be easy on me or anything. Anyway, once I drummed up the energy to look around I found I was in a different room this time, and was even on a proper bed. That stupid... something (nervousness?) I couldn't really explain clung to my still-asleep mind, making me sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed automatically. Or maybe not. I felt oddly out of my own control, and somehow the feeling of being a copilot of my own ship was the most apt description. But hey, who was I kidding, it wasn't really even my own ship. Maker notwithstanding.

---

She woke for the third time that day to severe discomfort. Nothing that couldn't be handled, but it was still inconvenient for getting a handle on the situation. Someone had changed her during her lack of consciousness. Now in different clothes, the white nightgown was curiously similar to the one she'd been wearing before. The room itself was covered in a layer of dust that spoke unreservedly of a memory best untouched or something similarly sentimental. Purple walls and bedsheets to make it seem like a little kid's room that had been long abandoned, like maybe destroyed innocence.

She needed to stop reading.

The rest of the furniture consisted of a white dresser set up against the opposite wall, which had a few every day objects on it. A hair brush, makeup kit and jewlery box helped to identify the past occupant of the room. Another teenager, predictably.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and she automatically responsed with a "come in." A memory came unbidden of doing similarly for people dressed in immaculate uniforms, all come to check on her as was in their job descriptions. Another, parallel memory that didn't fit with any experience she'd had before came as well. Something about a place that seemed a slum, those knocking being identified before their entering so they wouldn't be shot for intruding. Security reasons, the memory explained.

The worrying display of displaced memory was interrupted by Felix, who didn't look at all happy to be in the room. He swung open the door but didn't step in, instead opting to nod towards a staircase that one could safely assume he'd just come up. She wondered why she hadn't heard him. Then again, she hadn't really been paying attention.

"So, uh, Samantha..." he looked at the jewelry box on the dresser before firmly reassigning his attention to her face, "They wanted you to come downstairs so you could be involved with the discussion. Thing. I think." The fact that he knew her name was a little bit of a jolt; she rarely gave it out freely. Then again, she'd been oddly disconnected the day before. Her actions had mostly been in character, but she hadn't felt in control. Not to mention a bustling, frustrated energy that had been in the forefront of her mind the entire time. It now rested in the recesses of thought instead. Nothing worth paying attention to for now, most likely.

"How long have I been asleep?" There were no windows in the room to help indicate time.

"You were out all night. It's about" he checked his watch, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand, "ten in the morning now."

"Alright then." She walked past him to go down the stairs just in time to hear him mutter something about personality not being a dangerous poison. A part of my mind I assumed was still raw from the (now previous) day's events recoiled in indignation at the insult.

Everything in his house outside of the bedrooms seemed to be unpainted, uncarpeted wood. The staircase was slick and probably dangerous if one was attempting to go down them in socks, which she was. Maybe one of them was hoping she'd slip so they could break the news to Alex. Like a stray cat had died in the night. Felix's footsteps weren't shadowing her own, leading her to assume he was still caught up in whatever dusty memory the room contained. Really, they could have left her on the couch if the use of the place was going to cause that much melodrama.

Nevertheless, the wooden staircase led to a dimly lit wooden hallway, with one of two doors slightly ajar to let out a chink of light. The tail end of an incredibly incriminating conversation followed.

"We should have plenty of time to get away once they dive for the vents, so I wouldn't worry about it. Think of it like a normal hit and run, but with less hitting and more running." Liam's confident, casual voice was accentuated by, at least from my perspective, the shadows of his arms being waved about in the air as if a wild gesture was worth a thousand slapdash explanations.

"So really there's no plan at all." Cormac spoke with a kind of cold affection in his voice I would have found contradictory had I not encountered its exact kind before.

"Well, I wouldn't really say *that* so much as we can just kind of make it up as we go along. We seem pretty good at that, and it isn't like things ever go according to plan anyway." Then everyone in the room tensed, and Samantha assumed my presence had been discovered. The door swung outward, making her take a few steps back to allow Alex to look at me. Her mouth formed a perfect, small "o" that was supposed to eventually form a word before it was recruited for the purpose of expressing surprise.

"You really should be more careful where you discuss these things." The ball of energy in the back of her mind noted smugly that the conversation would have been overheard if they'd held it in a soundproof impenetrable fortress for plot reasons. She didn't quite understand her own joke.

Cormac looked fully prepared to kill the eavesdropper/potential traitor, but Liam just looked bemused. "Felix!" he yelled in the general direction of the stairs, "what are you doing up there anyway?" A clatter from the floor above followed, oddly enough. The noise seemed to mean something to the other occupants of the room, who only sighed in resigned frustration. The origin of the mysterious noise was soon pounding down to their level, his hands smeared with telltale grease.

"I... got inspired?" he grinned both sheepishly and cockily at once.

Alex was the first to completely relax, laughing it off. "We were kind of hoping you'd be loud enough to let us know when to stop blabbing, because apparently we have someone capable of walking down our old, creaky stairs in complete silence as a houseguest." Obviously. She hadn't spent years learning grace, poise, balance and stealth only to forget it all when confronted with something mundane as creaky stairs.

He processed this information for a minute, then his face grew a little horrified. "Does that mean you were talking about-?" Cormac grunted an affirmation, and Liam grimaced.

Wondering why she was stepping in on anyone's behalf considering she had nothing to do with any of them- except maybe a debt to Alex- Samantha opened her mouth. "I'm sure your bakery run or whatever else you were planning on pulling off requires extensive distractions and the ability to move through vents, but I don't really care." Nothing but incredulous greeted her words. Frustration pricked her thoughts and tinted the way the next words left her mouth. "Look, I didn't plead dramatically to not be sent to a hospital when Alex found me because I really don't like needles. I owe you all anyway, and if I for some unfathomable reason decided to stab a debt in the back by shouting the fact you're planning something to the heavens you'd literally only have to glance in my direction before sweet revenge was wrought. Heck, I doubt I could get to the 'shouting your secrets' part before getting stuck under a dog pile of goons. Tone down the paranoia." Samantha took in a long breath at the end of her small... had that been a rant? However ridiculous and indulgent it may have been, she'd just uttered a good paragraph of emotionally charged words to people she barely knew. More sleep was in order. The unexplained ball of energy was most definitely messing with her mind, and either on cue or exhausted from the effort of the rant or both said energy disappeared almost completely. She couldn't tell if it had been locked away or simply drained.

A conversation had commenced after her small outburst, but Samantha had missed most of it. Her lack of presence of mind was going to become disconcerting soon. Alex was saying something about shopping lists, then seemed to notice her guest was looking lost. How they'd gone from her potential betrayal to shopping was a mystery.

"Oh! We were all going to go out to the town and get some supplies we need. I think we should split up into groups to make things go faster, so if you and Liam can look for *these*" she shoved a slightly crinkled piece of paper into my hands "then Cormac and Felix can look for *those*" Cormac was ambushed with his own paper "and I can look for the rest!" Alex bounced on the balls of her feet as if she couldn't wait to get started on the day's work. The guys in the room seemed to accept the responsibility without any trouble, and it rather seemed like this was typical behavior in the same way Felix being covered by grease was.

Liam waved me through what I could now see was a kitchen to a door on the other side of the room. Despite my earlier thoughts the cramped room was painted a bright yellow, and the entire layout was made up of pastel colors dedicated to making the room seem bigger and brighter. There was even a window painted on one wall with a blue curtain hanging above it. Which meant none of the rooms in the place had windows, probably. It looked like the next door was the only entrance to the living room, which meant the house had the odd layout of anyone passing through having to go through the kitchen to reach the upstairs. It explained why they weren't worried about leaving her alone yesterday, then.

Samantha was the last to file out of the kitchen and into the living room she'd found herself in the day before. It was just as obnoxiously colored, and it was suddenly more clear than it had been before that the beige couch was the most dull thing in the room, and even that was offset by a needlessly tacky throw. Then the front door to the street swung open, and the need for overly zealous decorations was immediately understood.

It was ten o'clock in the morning with no clouds in the sky at all, but the world was a bleak gray all the same. It was a sight Samantha saw every time she'd stepped out of her own home, but the apparently not entirely defeated energy found it disturbing. Like someone had washed out all the color, the rogue part of her mind commented. Liam dropped into step next to her, hair and entire being still as bright as anything.

He was quiet until the other groups had gotten sufficiently in front of us, Alex herself happily shooting away from them at full speed. "To be honest I'm pretty sure she put us together because we get all the easy stuff. I can't mess up anything important and you don't see anything too incriminating." She almost, *almost* laughed at how casual he seemed with the fact that she was under suspicion of any number of things. Or rather, everything that could be conceived until it was proven otherwise.

Instead of laughing Samantha nodded her assent at the idea of being kept as much in the dark as they could manage. It was perfectly understandable. A few seconds later Liam laughed nervous and asked if she talked this much all the time. Never one to encourage undue closeness, he was met with another nod. Falling into step behind Liam, she took advantage of the easy silence that had since fallen between them let her mind become absorbed by taking in every possible detail of their surroundings. They had taken a turn into a road that led them away from the rest of the group, and it was a turn that took them from a rundown series of apartments and small houses into a shopping district. A few others dressed in various ragtag ensembles that passed as clothes were milling in the area, and none of them bothered to look up as the pair passed by. It honestly looked like the southeast corner of the city, a place she'd never visited for the obvious gulf between her own class and the residents in this... area.

After perhaps five minutes of walking through the naturally gray line of shops, the redhead leading the way took a sharp turn left into an alleyway. The warning bells in Samantha's mind immediately went off, but her inspection of the surrounding area revealed no people lurking in the darkness or just out of sight in any way. She would have known had she not been paying such close attention anyway. The dubious new path turned out to have a small, hidden bookstore in quite possibly the most inconvenient venue when it came to attracting customers in existence. It was a few twists and turns into the back pathways of the small labyrinth she'd been led into, and no one without knowledge of where to find it could have possibly stumbled across it through anything other than an adventurous spirit and extremely dumb luck. Then she realized that was probably the point and put extra effort into memorizing the exact path they'd taken to make it there.

Liam swung open the torn cloth acting as a door with practiced ease, sweeping his arms wide and declaring "After you!" She went in without a second glance, then pretended to scan the contents of the dilapidated and dusty bookshelves as Liam walked up to the counter and began a conversation with someone she presumed to be the owner of the shop. Or rather, what was acting like a shop when it wasn't being a secret and most likely illegal club of another kind. He was elderly, and in a similar state of disrepair as the shop. Wrinkled hands were clutching a leather-bound book, and he would occasionally stroke the cover. The action led her to look and see what was there. Golden script she couldn't read, and an unfamiliar seal of some kind.

The two glanced her direction to see if she was listening, saw her distraction, and began their conversation in ineffectively hushed whispers.

"Alex get lonely and recruit a new girl?"

"She, uh, kind of? But Alex didn't really ask anyone first, so I doubt she'll be around long. Feels like a stray puppy in a way, y'know? Anyway, I need-" he paused to look at the list, then read slowly off of it, "those repaired holodisks, that one book Cormac was looking for, um, he just wrote 'the stupid cryptic battle log' down?"

"A History of Successful Infiltrations by Mr. Ian Woon, yes. Anything else?"

"Just one other thing." He glanced Samantha's way, who picked up a purple and fuzzy book to inspect the illustrations inside. "That special order we sent in? Jacob said it'd all been lined up. I'm just supposed to make sure, and I think someone else'll be by to pick it up tomorrow or something."

"Right, right, it's all been packed up safely and it shouldn't be too much of a burden to carry back. You kids really have been getting some interesting shipments from the higher-" Liam cut him off with a painfully obvious clearing of the throat. "Anyway, just be careful is all I'm saying. Now here's everything else you asked for. And really do keep safe. That goes for you too, miss!" He handed Liam a pair of heavy-looking paper bags, then raised his voice in a friendly way when he addressed Samantha.

"Thank you sir. Take care of yourself as well." With a tinge of regret she placed the purple book back on its shelf. There hadn't been much in the way of prose, but the illustrations had been the most colorful things she'd seen in a long while. A rebellious ball of energy crudely stated it wasn't anything like the washed out dump in which she currently resided. The shop owner, who noticed her second glance, let out a mock long-suffering sigh.

"Now Miss, if you keep looking at some of my merchandise like that without even asking about a price I'm going to be inclined to think you're either going to guilt your friend here into buying it for you or steal it outright. Though for the record," he winked, "if no one picks it up now I think it may rot on that shelf like all the other poor beauties in here. Consider it on the house." Samantha opened her mouth to argue, surprise flitting across her face for a moment. "Bup bup bup! No arguing, think of it as a favor to the poor thing since I haven't let it see the light of day in so long." Liam leaned against the doorpost leading into the world outside, considering her while shoving his hands in his pockets.

She considered his words for a second, then smiled ever so slightly at him. "I- thank you very much, sir." Feeling as if she were copying the store keeper's own movements, she stroked the soft spine of the book, then pulled it off in a single gentle sweep.

He grinned triumphantly. "Aha! So she *can* smile! I thought the ability was hidden deep in there somewhere."

Samantha moved to leave, then paused one more time. "I'm sorry, what was your name?"

"I do believe the full one is Nelson Delorey Gile, but my friends call me Nel."

"Well then, Mr. Gile-"

"What did I say about my friends? You, young lady, are not to exclude yourself from that group. No, not even if you're trying to be overly formal. Nel or nothing at all."

She couldn't help it, the smile came out a little bit wider the second time. "Very well then, *Nel,* I'd like to thank you again. My name is Samantha. It was a pleasure to meet you." Her expression had gone back to its external stoicism, but it still seemed bright enough that she could have been mistaken for smiling anyway. Liam jumped up at her move to leave the small building, sweeping open the curtain for her with a playful bow before shooting an "Are you happy?" look at Mr. Gi- Nel. She sensed an inside joke.

The mood was still distinctly upbeat, and it clearly understood what he meant when Liam commented without explanation or preamble that "He tends to have that effect on people."

"I for one am very glad he does."

[Emily]

The next stop was out on the main street again, though she took care to memorize the route out as well. It had been a different path than they had taken to get there in the first place even though it put them out near the same starting point, and Samantha theorized on why, exactly, as she dogged along behind Liam.

/Someone could be following us./ Liam told her to stay put as he went inside a small hole in the wall shop that couldn't that couldn't have held more than three people inside it for the clutter on a good day. /To prevent suspicion of some kind./ He emerged again, balancing a new paper bag. She took hold of one, giving him a withering look when he protested. /To keep exactly where we went a secret./ Further down the road he disappeared again, this time in a literal hole in the wall. /Because he likes the scenery of decaying and rotten buildings./ The ball of energy supplied that one when it sensed she'd run out of theories. She agreed with that part of mind that it was time to stop overthinking it and moved on.

Not much later they ended up in the same light and airy shop as Felix and Cormac. There was an unspoken agreement not to split up again, and they all accumulated and added to paper bags together for the rest of the trip. When everyone's arms were as full as they could manage Alex finally appeared, toting not a single item that she hadn't had in her possession since she'd left in the morning. Odd. Still, she was smiling, and the sun on her red hair landed her only second to Liam's in terms of the brightest thing on the street. Her exoression said that she'd accomplished something, at least, though Samantha was in the dark as to what, exactly. The others seemed to have no problem with her lack of new goods, though, and it was assumed to be of the "don't ask, don't tell" variety of information.

Things started being a good bit more eventful not soon after she appeared. She made them pick up the pace to get back to "base," as she called it, and Felix began to lag behind a bit. It didn't take long for him to set down his bags on a low wall, whining all the while about forced manual labor. Something metallic rolled out of one of the bags, landing on the ground before his admittedly agile attempt to save it could succeed. Then it exploded, setting off a small ball of red fire and sending the other bought goods previously perched on the wall flying with dramatic flair through the air. Felix himself had been blown back with similar force, though naturally he didn't land as far away as his poor, well, what used to be in paper bags. The rest of the group was far enough ahead of him that they were unhurt except for some loose shrapnel from the exploding canister, and none of that hit a mark. Miraculously Felix didn't take long at all to stand up, and he didn't look hurt at all unless one counted bruised pride and slightly crispy clothes. How he wasn't a burning crisp just then was one question. What exactly had been in that canister was another.

Curious, Samantha walked forward without hesitation as the rest of the group recovered and tried not to laugh. Brushing past any suspicions she was going to see if the potentially injured clown was okay by ignoring said clown himself, she picked up the still-smouldering canister with a sleeve wrapped around her hand. It was labeled something through the black charred mess.

The surprise lent to the reason why she read it out loud. "...Silly putty? What on earth?"

Alex took a deep breath, stifling the laughs that were bubbling up from her stomach. "Exactly what you- heh- read. It's putty that's very very very very silly. Now c'mere Felix, I gotta make sure you didn't make yourself bleed." Felix backed away in mock horror.

Samantha blinked. "Right. Thank you. Everything is clear now. I feel silly for asking."

"Then don't ask again." Cormac said before delegating his bags to the chuckling Alex and easily jumping over the wall. He started on what looked like collecting whatever salvageable items could be located without looking up or speaking again.

"So... even if it's very silly putty, as Alex so eloquently put it, it normally takes deliberate detonation to make it do... that."

Liam shrugged, then said, "It's why the explosion was small. No big detonation, and the canister held in most of it."

"That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever."

Alex laughed, shifting the objects in her arms to a more comfortable position. "Welcome to the story of our lives. Now come on before someone notices the giant illegal explosion and checks things out."

"We can take some stupid cops, Al," Liam bristled.

"Not with a sick guest and a couple hundred cels worth of stuff we don't! C'mon Cor, you have most of it, right?" He nodded, having wrapped up the items deems not wrecked beyond repair (or too incriminating to leave behind) in a cloth he'd pulled from seemingly nowhere. As if like clockwork, that was when the sirens started to blare about two streets over. It was nice of them to give a warning.

The veterans of the group, also known as everyone that wasn't Samantha, immediately bolted down the street with the new girl not far behind. They were going at a decent pace despite being tethered to the bags they were unwilling to drop, but the law enforcement took almost no time at all to reach them anyway. Liam led the way into a side street, then tore open the door to a house to dump his baggage. Everyone else did the same, with Samantha assuming, or at least hoping, the house belonged to someone they knew. But there was no time to ponder the fact because the footsteps of the running police were close behind. On foot? Right, they had probably had to abandon any vehicles to make it back into the crowded area.

As they took an immeasurable number of twists and turns through the interlocking mazes known as the naturally grown slums of a city, the one problem with mazes became increasingly clear. The pursuers behind them had thinned out, but why was no mystery. A few men would appear at seemingly random around corners, forcing them to turn and run another way. Two things became abundantly clear: The first was that this area, despite all appearances, was extremely well mapped out by the authorities. The second was that they were being herded. From the frustrated look on his face, Cormac seemed to be the only other one that noticed this gaping problem. Felix seemed too busy taunting those that didn't stay behind them to pursue for very long, Liam looked like he was caught up in the sheer thrill, and Alex looked like she might stop the whole thing then and there if only for a chance to thoroughly inspect Felix to make sure he was okay after the small explosion. Samanthat wondered if they had any weapons on them that would be enough to take out a couple guards and take a route they weren't scheduled to to be on.

Not one to wait around while she was caught along with these people she was begrudgingly indebted to, she sped up ever so slightly until her running was in step with Cormac's. "Keep any" she stopped herself from gasping for air and seeming vulnerable, "very very silly putty still on you? I don't like the feeling of being chased by sheep dogs." Her voice was quiet enough to not distract the others from their all-important job of looking natural.

Cormac's face betrayed his surprise for only a split second before all thoughts were masked again. He nodded, once, and pulled out a small canister of the miracle explosive. Thank goodness some people hadn't decided to drop all items of value they had at someone's door, no matter how trusted the person might have been. "How well can you aim?"

"Very well."

The slapdash plan worked like a charm, really. In truth it only consisted of Cormac throwing a couple of silver canisters at the next armed men to be guarding a pathway and hoping they exploded. Which they did quite, blowing back the uniformed men and rendering them far more hurt than Felix had been during his own encounter with the stuff. It took the others no time at all to catch on, and they had all disappeared around corner after corner before the ones on their tail could tell they'd even gone the wrong way. Hopefully.

The thin, cramped, dark alleys and back streets eventually gave way to something more main stream, and there was no sign that they'd been found again. There was someone else at the end of their immediate road, just around another corner or two. Liam, ever the king of knowing exactly where he was going and what shortcuts to take, made a sharp swerve into a building that looked about ready to collapse in on itself. Entirely made of rotting wood, Samantha somehow doubted there had ever been any materials to make up the house other than a flimsy wooden frame and some crumbling plaster for effect. It was a big, empty building that smelled the way it looked and had as many doors as it did broken windows. Shadows closed in everywhere, and every door and window seemed to have a blank, this- is- just- my- job- expression looking in on them. Samantha could feel more coming. They began running faster, and it seemed like everyone in the group was doing their best to find a miracle solution to get them out. Her best guess was that had they continued to go straight down the road they would have been met with yet another group of men with oddly as of yet unused guns.

It begged the question just how much attention those four warranted. Unless, of course, they'd figured out who she was. In that case it was more or less all over. All the more reason to not get caught. No one had made it to the door at the farthest end of the building, but then again there was only one scrawny looking poor soul in a lone, broken- out window in a half-finished room to their left. Like the sheepdog she so despised, the rest of the group found themselves with a short, determined teenager quite literally pushing them all towards what seemed to be a dead end. Looking somewhat like a hive mind, they all noticed the window at once and changed course. The whole thing barely took two seconds, completely throwing off those preparing for them to keep running towards the trap at the other end.

The guard at their selected window didn't even put up a fight before being knocked out, but it took longer than any of them would have liked for each person to squeeze through the makeshift exit. In a last act of desperation the soldiers ran away from the premises last second as the entire place was sent up into flames. Being the one that had pushed them into the room, Samantha was in the back and thus the last to make it out. She was halfway through when the explosion began, and all the way through not a second later from the sheer force of it. It seemed to be a series of chain explosions, actually, giving them all time to run away, being pushed into the air as the power of it all rose to a scream behind them.

They were thrown, rolled with the huge more literal than metaphorical punch into a patch of dying grass, and gave themselves only a second to watch the destruction before taking off again. They didn't make it far.

Staccato clapping from the shadows tends to make people pause. As said clapping was coming from a looming figure of at least six and a half feet, dressed in a leather trench coat and a black beret that had his face, the pause was mostly out of sheer terror.

In the short time she'd known him, Samantha knew a bit too much about Cormac to expect the look of utter fear on his face.