~NML Character Prologues~

~Chelsea Mercy~
Prologue #1

Breaths made small, iridescent puffs of fog in the cold, biting winter air as the four people walked down the cracked sidewalk in the darkness of the night, occasionally passing through the dirty yellow glow of the cracked streetlights that dotted the street. The two children walked out in the front of the group, while the parents took the back, quietly talking amongst themselves.
Chelsea breathed deeply of the hot chocolate that filled the pale blue mug in her hands. The only café left in their small, walled-off community was a bring-your-own-cup sort of deal—Chelsea always brought her mug so that she could get hot cocoa there. Kieran was walking behind her, almost at her side, and was watching his feet as he carefully stepped over each and every crack in the sidewalk, every once in a while drifting to either side of the path.
Chelsea brought the mug closer to her face, inhaling the sweet smell of the chocolate, before lifting the mug to her lips, taking a sip. The hot chocolate was scalding—she felt it burn her tongue as she drank from it—and yet, somehow, she was used to that feeling by now, she had gotten this drink so many times before. The familiar feeling of numbness that it left in the middle of her tongue…was somewhat comforting with the familiarity it provided.
As they walked, Chelsea could hear the conversation between her parents escalating—getting louder. Ever since Ryder had left, the two of them had begun to fight…being around them now was nearly unbearable…but she couldn’t say that, for fear of being dragged into the dispute as well….So, she simply walked on.
The street was quiet, the only noise being the gently whispering wind that came to blow through her hair, across her cheeks, into her bones every once in a while…The wind was the only thing that came in and out of this town these days. Ever since Ryder had organized the militia and left…the rules and regulations had been tightened. New ones had even been made. There was a big dispute over whether he was really doing them any good, or whether he was just another petty criminal…
And then, she heard the first cuss being tossed behind them—their parents voices were raising again, just like they did every night…Chelsea lifted her mug again, taking a big swig of hot chocolate, letting the burning fill her mouth and slide down her throat—it hurt, but it was a distraction. She lowered the mug, looking over at her younger brother…only to see that he was looking at her with big, sad eyes that asked a million questions without a single word being said. She sighed, looking away, resigning herself to sipping at her hot chocolate aimlessly as they continued down the sidewalk towards their house. She tried to think of other things…anything to distract her from the tense, hateful atmosphere radiating off of her parents. There was a warmth now deep within her from the hot cocoa, and she decided to try to mentally bring herself to that warm place—bring herself away from this cold November air, off away to somewhere else…somewhere like the tropical islands that she and her brothers saw on their old, grainy, hand-me-down VHS tapes. Somewhere that wasn’t a walled off city in the middle of nowhere on a cold night…
She felt a light tug on the edge of her jacket, and looked to see that Kieran was stopping her, and she soon saw that their parents had simply stopped on the sidewalk to argue. Chelsea sighed, looking away, instead down to her now nearly-empty mug. She wouldn’t have enough of this to last all the way home, even…Instead, she decided to gulp down the last of it, feeling the scalding liquid pour its way down, both simply giving her warmth, and also providing that strangely pleasant numbness that came after the burn…she closed her eyes, and began to envision…actually blue skies…sand, seashells…green-leafed palm trees…yes. This was where she was bound. Far, far away from all of this…just to sail off into that warm numbness…
Up until the gunshot shattered her imaginings just as quickly as the mug shattered upon the ground as it dropped from her hands in her surprise. Before she could even turn around to see what had happened, there had been another gunshot, paired with the tell-tale splatter of what she soon saw to be the crimson stains across the ground. She and her brother stood there motionless for a moment, the dark-clad strangers before them imposing and deadly.
“…Kieran…” Chelsea finally managed to speak after a moment, before reaching out, grabbing her little brother’s hand, and turning on her heel, dashing down the sidewalk. “Run—!”
In all truth, that first step really was the beginning of a new life—a beginning of new paths—and overall….it was truly the beginning of the end.

~Beatrice Miona~
Part One

"Mama, is Harriet evea gonn get betta?" a squeaky voiced Bunny asked, looking up at the beautiful woman she called Mother. The woman was stunningly beautiful with her long wavy blonde hair, a gentle look on her face, and a small smile.
"Harriet is getting a little better. The doctors said that maybe this week, we can go to the park. You'd wanna go to the park right Bun?" she pat the small red headed girl.
"Yay! I love the park!" she cooed, and hugged her mother. "Love ya Mama. I'll wash dishes tanight." the mother smiled, and parted ways.
This was one of the happier memories of Bunny's childhood. She was so hopeful, so helpful...
It's a shame this never lasted that long.
The next day, Mama came home early. She had a black eye of unknown origin, so the work place gave her a break, and sent her home. Beatrice greeted her Mama with a hug.
"Welcome home!" she said, looking up smiling. Her mother looked down, and couldn't help but smile. She picked up her daughter and hugged her tightly.

"Never lose that smile. Never lose the love in your heart..."

Those words stuck, but confused the young girl at the time. What did she mean? Of course she would never lose her smile. Smiling was important. Love was too. She loved Mama, she loved Papa, she loved Harriet. Why did Mama sound so...sad?
How little she knew.

This continued then. The injuries. The pain. The fighting and yelling. In the end, Bunny got used to it, and when Mama would cry, Bunny would be there. When Harriet needed something, Bunny helped out. But it kept going for weeks...for months. Soon, it got worse when Papa started to smell like wheat and bread all the time. It would stink up the house, and it made the fighting worse.

Everything broke when Harriet's condition took a turn for the worse. Bunny and Mama were there...Papa was gone. Harriet was cold and limp, not moving. Mama was crying, Bunny was...uncertain.
"Ya thinkin she needs more blankets?" she asked Mama. Her mother went over to the young girl, and hugged her tightly.
"Yeah...she's pretty cold." Mama choked the words out. "I'll...make some soup tonight..."
"I like yer soup Mama."
"I know you do...come on...Let's let Harriet sleep." They left the room, and that night, Harriet was taken out of the house by Papa. Mama didn't want Bunny exposed at such a young age, and Papa didn't want the smell to linger. They fought...the cycle continued. More weeks..turned to months....

Things got worse when Harriet passed. Papa had been...actin strange. Bunny heard yelling from their room, worse then normal. Then she heard bangs...and screams...and cracks...and then the sound as if walking through a little puddle. Bunny went to her room, hearing Papa's foot steps coming down the hall. She jumped into bed, and pretended to sleep as he opened the door, checking on the girl. He walked in, and pet her head a little bit, then walked out. It seemed like an eternity when Bunny moved again. She went to see what happened...only to see...

"Mama?"

Her mother was there, on the floor, not moving. A puddle of red surrounded her, like the stuff that came out of boo-boos. She tried to wake her mother up, but to no avail.

Papa...Papa killed Mama.
This sudden realization made Bunny cry, wanting Mama to stroke her face and give her hugs. She wanted Mama to make her Mac and Cheese. She wanted Mama to take her to the park and have ice cream on Sundays. She wanted Mama to lay with her and rub her feet when she had a nightmare.

But that wasn't going to happen. It snapped in her head, making it hurt. Bunny's head hurt hard, like how Harriet would complain about her pain, it gave Bunny a headache. Now her twin and her Mama were gone. She was alone...with Papa. Her body shook and her head was pounding. Then, it seemed like Bunny was moving on her own.
Papa was in the living room, by the fireplace, drinking a beer. He always did after fightin with Mama. Always...every night. Bunny knew he'd be there. He was all the time. Never talked to anyone...never cared about Mama. Never...never...The words were echoing in her mind as she made her way to the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the rank. She was quiet, her bare feet hitting the carpet ever so softly. Soon, she was behind Papa's chair. She held her breath, clutching the kitchen knife in her tiny hands. All it took was one stroke. One. That was all she needed to do. Her body continued to shake. Her hands got sweaty.

"Mama..." she thought to herself. "I'm real sorry...I didn't do this sooner..."

In a swift motion, her body moving on it's own, she stabbed the knife through the back of the chair and into Papa's back. There was more screaming as Papa fell on his chest, trying to figure out what was going on. Bunny turned him around, and stabbed him in the chest. She looked at his horrified expression with each knife plunge into his chest. Over and over and over she went, not stopping until he wasn't moving. Until she knew he was gone. She panted, red all over herself, looking at her hands. She was horrified. She was scared of herself.
"I...I..." she tired to rationalize with herself this was a good thing. What she did was right. What she did was what Mama would do. But she couldn't. She couldn't do. Bunny started to feel her face get hot, and tears streamed down the small girls cheeks. She cried, getting blood all over her face. Soon, she got really serious, sniffling once and a while.
"No...it's not what Mama would do. It's what I would do..." she said, and got up. She went into the cellar, and found where Papa kept all his smelly bread drink, and took it upstairs. The process took a long time, but...it had to be done. She lined the cans on the floor. Soon, she the knife from Papa and stabbed the cans, making the liquid go everywhere. The did with every can, until the carpet was soaked in it. After that, she couldn't take the stick red stuff anymore, so she took a quick bath, and put on new PJs. She grabbed a few special things too. Then, it was time.

She took the fire poker, and swung some of the burning embers out of the fire pit. This was enough to light the carpet soaked with beer aflame. Now...Bunny had to just leave. She went out the back and through the back fence to the back yard. She got through the gate, and turned, only to see her entire house aflame. She watched with a curious, yet empty look. This hurt. This hurt a lot. Soon, she heard voices.
"PETER?! LOLA?!" came voices. Calling to her parents. "PETER!? ARE YOU THERE?" They were coming from all over the place. Voices...concerns...soon sirens were heard. This neighborhood was quick to notice something like this. Bunny kept looking at the fire, holding her security blanket full of treasures.
"BEATRICE?" a voice asked. She heard it and turned. It was Miss Conway from down the street. Bunny looked blankly at her.
"Hi Miss Conway." she said, her voice cracking, her body trembling. She was tired...and empty...worn out.
"Where are your parents honey? Where did they go?" the woman asked. She put her robe around the little girl. Bunny felt it for a second, liking the feeling.
"I don't know...I saw the flames and grabbed some of my things and ran. I...I didn't really." she wanted tears to come out, but she was dehydrated and tired. She couldn't cry even if she wanted to.
"Come with me dear...let's get you some water and I'll call the police. Maybe we can figure out what happened to them." she said, taking Bunny's hand and leading the girl to her home.
"Yeah." Bunny said, and followed the woman.

The police were contacted and questioned Bunny. She told them 'what she knew' and was still pretty empty. Soon, Miss Conway was told both Bunny's parents were murdered and burned.
"How am I ever going to tell that to her?" the woman asked.
"I don't know ma'am...but in light of this, the girl's an orphan. She will need to go into foster care."
"Let me Foster her...I know she'll be happy here."
"I don't know if that's wise, Miss Conway. Being so close to the wreckage may bring up some...unplesantries. It made be better to make her away from this neighborhood." the man said. "For now, let her stay here until we find a better foster." the officer nodded and left the house. Miss Conway tucked in Bunny and put her to bed, kissing her good night. But Bunny didn't sleep...not until the morning had almost broke. What she saw...what she did...everything...it was haunting. The screams, the heat of the flames...the blood...everything.
"I was...what I would do...Mama..." she closed her eyes and went to sleep. This was the start...The start of the Crimson Angel of Death.

~Justus Maximus Philo Marcellus VII~
Prologue #1

“I just can’t help but feel like I’m meant for some kind of special purpose, you know?” Justin asked, looking over at his family’s cat, who was lounging lazily upon Justin’s bed while the young man sat there reading. The book was old and frayed, the pages yellowed and delicate—it was a tale of ancient heroes who went on a quest to save their kingdom from darkness…quite a fascinating story! “I mean…I’d like to think that, at least! Otherwise, what else am I here for, right?” Justin tilted his head slightly at the cat, who simply was content to lay there and purr at him sleepily.
“Justin! Dinner’s ready!” came a sudden call from the other room, gentle and cheerful.
“Coming!” Justin called, before getting up off his bed, placing the novel he was holding carefully on the shelf in its place, right next to the bird encyclopedia. He spared a moment to grin back at his cat, reaching over to pet her a bit. “Don’t get too comfy now, Rosie. Try not to take over the bed while I’m gone.” He gave a small chuckle, then headed off into the other room.
As he came into the other room, he saw that his parents were already at the table in the modest dining room—his father was still wearing his white coat, so it seemed that he’d just come back from the clinic. Perfect timing! Justin beamed when he saw that his mother had made corn chowder—he just loved the stuff! Delicious, thick stew with potatoes and bacon and just—yum!
He sat down at the table with his parents, and they began their usual routine of happy chit-chat. Justin had a great family life—he and his parents were really close. They smiled, laughed, and ate together for quite some time, and the sun began to set. It was dusk now—the sun was resting just at the horizon, about to begin descending under it. Justin was helping to clear the plates from the table—when suddenly, the three of them in the room heard a crash of glass. All of them froze.
“…What was that?” Justin finally asked the question that they were all wondering, carefully putting the dishes into the sink. Both of his parents looked to each other, seeming serious—and concerned. The three of them gathered in the center of the room, by the table, and found that they heard successive bumps and bangs in the other part of the house as they stood there.
“…Justin,” his father said after a moment of silence. “…Go hide…”
“But—“ Justin tried to protest, but was cut off.
“Go hide, dear. It’ll be alright,” his mother said, kissing him on the forehead, then ushering him over towards a closet that was on the wall of the room. “In here, alright? And make sure that you stay very quiet.”
Justin finally went through with the request, giving his mother a worried look as he stepped into the closet, pulling the door shut—but keeping it open just a crack. He wanted to see what would happen, so he put his eye up to the crack, peering through into the room.
As Justin watched, he saw two men, wearing bedraggled, ratty clothes come into the room, from the direction of…the bedrooms. Was…Was Rosie alright…?
Justin watched in horror as one of the men suddenly pulled out a gun—but before it could even be aimed onto a target, Justin’s father rushed forward, beginning to grapple with the man.
‘Go get him…!’ Justin thought, his hands slowly clenching into fists as he watched through the crack in the door of the closet. He saw that soon, his mother, and the other strange man joined the scuffle. No, not a scuffle—it was a fight. A battle. A war for survival…
Yes, they lived in an old, unprotected, run-down town, but this had never happened before…! Justin wanted to burst out of the closet and help his parents fight! He wanted to fight for them, save them! But, before he could react…suddenly, it was all over. With a single booming shot of the gun, Justin’s mother hit the ground. His father went into a despairing rage, fighting all the harder—but was soon felled by a second blast.
Justin froze. His…parents had lost? They…they weren’t supposed to lose…they were supposed to win…right? That pool of blood that was spreading out from them, slowly, painfully slowly…it wasn’t real…right? He tried to convince himself that this was all his imagination. Tried to convince himself that none of this was happening. It couldn’t be happening…it was impossible…
He was stuck in this state of mind for a while…simply frozen there as he knelt in the closet…his brain spiraling down into the realm of impossibility…no…this couldn’t be happening…
By the time he finally willed himself to move again, the men who had come into the house were gone—along with all of the food and many of the valuables. Justin pushed the closet door open, walking silently out into the room, looking at the bodies that lay upon the floor, the pool of crimson soaking deep into the cream colored carpet, the ground damp with the bright life that had once filled his parents’ bodies…
He felt numb. This place was suddenly so cold and quiet…framed pictures lay shattered on the floor, knocked over by the fight. He simply stood there and stared with blank, unseeing eyes for a long time…it wasn’t clear how long he simply stood there, his mind slowly cracking from the inside out, just about ready to break…
As he finally got himself to move, he found himself going forward—he pulled his father’s arm over his shoulder, and carried the corpse out into the backyard—if the small patch of alleyway behind their house could be considered a backyard. The skies today were gray…dark, dark gray…they had been so blue that very same morning…
He carefully lay what had once been his father down onto the bricked ground outside. He then returned inside, doing the same for his mother. He looked at them there as they lay side by side for a moment…then returned into the house. He went to the utility closet—and pulled out a bottle and matches. He returned to the backyard, pausing again for a second. He wasn’t thinking—his thoughts were blank. But it was almost as if his body was moving on his own as he opened up the bottle of lighter fluid, dousing it over the corpses before him before throwing the empty bottle aside. The plastic clattered against the bricks just as he opened the matchbox, pulling out a match. He struck it once, then again—and it lit. He stared at the flickering, dancing flame for a few seconds—hesitating. But…he had no way to bury them…nowhere to bury them…so…this had to be done…
He threw the match into the pool of lighter fluid, and the bodies caught almost instantly. In less than a minute, a huge blaze was burning in that back-alley, sending up smoke to the heavens, the gray, dull heavens…
Justin had fallen to his knees, watching the flames as it consumed his parents’ bodies. Just…how long ago had it been that they’d been alive? Breathing, and laughing…
He stared at the flames…bright, bold orange, steadily transferring down to a ghostly blue at the base…Justin stared at those blue flames. He stared for a long time, before…his mouth began to move, speaking to himself in a quiet whisper,
“I…I can’t…can…not…let this pass…without…retribution…” his voice was like a mere breath on the wind as he spoke, his eyes still transfixed to the blue flames. He felt…connected. Strangely, scarily connected to those azure flames blazing at the base of the bonfire that was consuming his parents… “Those men…they were…evil…evil, evil people…” He pressed his hands to the ground then, pushing himself back up onto his feet. He stood there for a moment, before suddenly turning, rushing inside, as if looking for answers. He went to his room—Rosie was nowhere to be seen. His room was a mess…books splayed about the floor…his old fantasy novel lay in shreds on the floor, its delicate, yellowed pages scattered about the dark green carpet like snow…
Justin reached down, his hand shaking as he picked up one of the pages. The page spoke of a knight…a noble man who defended those oppressed under evil…
And he felt his mind crack.
“I…I can’t believe…that I never realized…” he let the page flutter to the floor, then hastily walked back out into the main room. The pool of wet blood still lay on the carpet—too much liquid for the thin rug to soak in. He looked to the wall, where his name lay on a plaque, next to the names of his parents…a gift to his family from long ago…
Justin…that name was false. It was false…wasn’t it? It…It didn’t sound right…it sounded disgusting…it sounded like the name of a man who was too weak to save his parents when they were trapped in adversity…!
His hand plunged down into the pool of blood then, coming up dripping with the red liquid, before he used it as ink to messily cross out the ‘Justin’ that was on the picture on the wall. Under the crossed out name, with shaking hands, he wrote one word—
Justus.
Yes…that was his name…wasn’t it? Those azure flames…they had been a sign…! They had been a sign that he did indeed have a higher purpose to serve…! He was a knight…a knight representative of those flames…The Knight of Azure Flames…yes! It was all so clear now! He remembered everything!  He rushed away then from that pool of blood, down the hall once again, and he arrived at his parents’ old room. The room was nearly empty. The window on the other side of the room lay shattered. Apparently that was how the evil men got inside…
His already cracked mind continued to race faster and faster, falling further apart as he leapt down to the floor, reaching under the bed—and yes! There it was! The long, dark, wooden box that held their family heirloom—an old halberd lance from his grandfather, he’d gotten it at a metal-working factory…Justus hastily opened the box, looking upon the spear with wide, bright eyes that were shining with such rigor that you’d think that there were stars inside of them.
“Yes…this is it…this is my calling…” He lifted the lance, standing back up—only to see a small bird sitting on the windowsill. The bird fluttered inside, alighting on his shoulder, and it took him but a moment to feel the common bond that he shared with the animal. “So…you’re to be my companion? Very well…you need a name, then…” He paused, thinking for a moment. “…Aegis.”
Justus turned, walking boldly back down the hall, lance gripped tightly in his hand, Aegis perched comfortably on his shoulder. And Justus had such a look of determination on his face…
He went back out into the back alley…all that remained now were mere embers flickering around skeletons lying in a pile of ashes. He looked upon it for a moment, his expression solemn…before he looked up at the dark sky, and suddenly roared with all of his breath,
“I’LL SEE THAT THIS RECEIVES RETRIBUTION! I WILL NOT REST UNTIL YOU PAY FOR THIS! DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE ME, YOU CURS! I WILL FIND YOU…! SULLONSTEEEEEEIN!”

~Vivian Orderly~
Part 1

It was dark. The detention center was a very scary place, but to Vivian, at the moment at least, it was a safe place. She was escorted into her cell, the door closed, and then she was alone. The footsteps of the guard disappeared from the ear, and all that she could hear was the distant cars driving by the road out the window, the dripping of the sink nearby, and the occasional buzzing of a security camera turning, scanning the area by the cell and before it. Vivian was alone. She was alone. It was beautiful.
She took a second to let the shock leave her body, and went to the window, her fingers grazing the bars. The dark sky was beautiful, the moon being her ray of light as it shone through, bathing the cell in light. Soon, Vivian sat on her cell bed, looking at her hands, looking at the floor. She had so much on her mind...so many questions.

"Did you know the victim?"
"Why did you kill him?"
"Can't you hear? You're a murderer"
"What went through your head when you killed him?"
"Why did you rob that bank?"
"Who is supplying you weapons?"
"Who are you?"

However, there was something she wanted answered. Something she wanted to know.
"Why does no one believe me?"
Her voice was hoarse. Her face was stinky and dry, a clear trial of tears imprinted on her cheeks. After crying for a long time, it seemed to have a clear path on her face. Her make up ruined, herself in shambles, broken.
"I...didn't do it...right?" she asked herself looking at her hands. Dried blood crusted on them, like a scab healed over. This wound would take much time to heal. Time that she didn't have, honestly. Lost in her daze, she didn't notice the guard calling her name.
"MISS ORDERLY!" he ended up yelling, which made her jerk away from her inner musings, and look at the guard.
"Y-yes?" she asked. "What do you need sir?" she got to her feet at the foot of her bed. The guard opened the door.
"You have a visitor." he said. "Come on, you don't have a lot of time." he gestured her to leave the cell. She hesitated. A visitor at this time of night. She was told the visiting hours, and this was way past them.
"For me? But...the hours are-" she began, only to be cut off.
"It's a special visit. Someone of very high standing wanted to speak with you, Miss Orderly."
"High Standing? now she was confused. She left her cell, feeling the cold steel of the cuffs brace her wrists. It hurt, but she managed. She was led out of the center and into the visitors chair. Between her and her coming visitor was a large glass wall. Most likely bullet proof. She waited, sitting in the chair provided. She started to look at her hands, the clinking of the cuffs was the only sound heard, besides her breathing. No one came. She waited more...still no one. Was this some sort of joke they were playing on her? No one was com-
"Excuse me for my tardiness, Miss Orderly."
Then a voice from the other side was heard. Vivian jerked up, and nearly gasped.
"No...no...it can't be..." she thought, seeing the other person. Grey hair, a maroon suit, an imposing glare and those eyes...eyes that stared right into the soul. There was no mistaking it.
It was him...high prosecutor Miles Edgeworth.

Now why would he visit her?

Vivian had no idea...well...she had SOME idea...but it was so farfetched she didn't consider it. She started to shake, her cuffs rattling a little. She avoided his gaze, not wanting to be read. She was frightened, wondering why he was here...visiting her at such an odd hour.
"I hope I didn't wake you up." he said again, his voice still imposing, and yet...gentle. He had gentle undertones to his voice. Vivian looked at him, finally in the eyes. She didn't speak again, just looked at him.
"Are you alright, Miss Orderly?" he asked, taking a seat now. Vivian wasn't sure how to answer that question. She knew not good but...why was she feeling so...empty? It was a sudden feeling...she didn't know...
"I..." was all she could manage at the moment. She body was still shaking. Her tears started to form again. She forced them back, but couldn't. She looked at the man on the other side of the glass, tears flowing down her cheeks. "I'm sorry..." she said.
"Pardon?" he asked.
"I'm so sorry...please forgive me..."
"..." he stayed silent, as if thinking. Vivian continued to cry. She didn't really understand why she was crying, but...she had some ideas. Maybe it was since she had a history with this man...one he didn't know quite yet...maybe it was the fact she was truly innocent...maybe...it was both...
"I'm sorry...for making you coming out this late..." she managed to choke out. Edgeworth opened his eyes, and looked back.
"I came on my own accord. You needn't apologize." he said, crossing his arms.
"But...I bet you had other things to do with your time...like sleep?" she said, but he shook his head.
"I was working late it's not a problem." he said.
"T-then...why...?"
"I've come to ask you a few questions in regard to your charges Miss Orderly. I hope you will be able to answer them honestly."
"Qu-questions?"
"Yes. I wish to know the events that transpired during all three crimes." he said. "In order to have a proper case, I need proper information."
"Are you...prosecuting my case?" she asked. Edgeworth nodded.
"Yes. I am to find the truth behind what happened today." he said. This scared Vivian, but...she couldn't resist.
"I...I see...I'll co-" she stopped, seeing him look at her face with great intent. She looked back, her tears still rolling, her face red and hot. She didn't understand this...but...she had to see it through.
"I believe in you." was the phrase that shattered all her thoughts. She gasped, confused.
"H-huh? You...believe in me? That's a rather odd thing to say...what do you-?"
"I believe in you to tell the truth...after hearing your story...I will personally judge you...to see if you are innocent...Right now...your face tells me something." he said, his tone going gentle again.
"What...what is it telling you?" Vivian asked, curious now.
"Have we...met before?" Edgeworth said, stroking his chin. Vivian's eyes widened.
"Does...he know?" she asked. "No...I can't..." she took a breath. "N-no...I don't believe we've met before, Mister Edgeworth." she said.
"Then praytell...how did you know my name?" he asked. She gasped again. She dun goofed!
"Oh uh..." she said, fidgetting a little. "I...know your name in passing. The court and media makes it very clear what goes on during large trials. During my work as a teller, I sort of caught onto that." she said, trying to lie. Miles shook his head.
"I don't believe that for a second." he said, his voice now forceful.
"W-wha-?"
"How am I supposed to believe you when you make a mistake like that?"
"I...I didn't mean-"
"Miss Orderly, I am trying to help you. Any information about you will help you case. Do not lie to me Miss Orderly."
"Please..."
"Now tell me...how did you know my name...?" he asked. Vivian was crying again. That outburst scared her. Her body refused to move. Tears streamed fast down her cheeks.
"I would like an answer Miss Orderly..." his voice rang again. She couldn't do anything. She could only cry. Her cries were audible now. They could be heard, which put Edgeworth on aires.
"Miss Orderly...I didn't mean to make you cry, but I need to know these things...the more you tell me, the more I can help. I'm sorry I am not making this easy, but I need to know. Please. I do believe in you."
Those words again. Those were the words giving her strength. She could feel it. Slowly, she sat up, putting a hand over her mouth to catch the tears.
"I...well...what do you w-want to know...?" she asked, her voice very meek now.
"Start with our connection. How did you know my name?"
"W-well...um...we...I...I attended the same...college as you...I didn't meet you...we never talked...but I heard your name when my friends would talk to you. And...you look about the same like you did in High School. I'm surprised." she said. Half of that was true...the other was a lie. She knew him much better then that.
"I see...I don't remember my college days very well. I suppose it's a small world." he said. "Now...about the case..."

They talked about what happened for a long time. She told him how her boyfriend blackmailed her...how she was away visiting someone during the robbery...and how she was going to die when her boss attacked HER. This was all very confusing.
"Miss Orderly...all of what you said is true...correct?" he asked. Vivian nodded.
"Y-yes...I...I truly didn't do anything...I...I couldn't..."
"Thank you for your time. I appreciate you having this talk with me." he said, getting up.
"Oh...we're done?" she asked. He nodded.
"Quite. It's nearly 3 in the morning." he said. "You and I need rest." Vivian was surprised. Is was THAT late? Oh geez.
"Oh...I didn't really notice..." she said. "Thank you for talking to me...I am glad..."
"Me too. I'll come back at a later date. Good Night Miss Orderly."
Vivian gave a gentle smile. "Good Night..." With that, Both Edgeworth and Vivian went to their homes. Edgeworth to his home nearby...Vivian to her cell.
She was taken back in, where she went and laid on the bed. She eyes were so heavy now. She was so tired. So exhausted. But now...she had a smile on her face.

One person...believed in her...that was all she needed.

~Wynn Stanton~
Prologue #1

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
Wham, wham, wham—his head hit the wall again and again, making him stumble back with a massive headache after it connected for the third time. But, this wasn’t like the days of old, where he’d been assaulted by those stronger than him, those who thought that he was weak—no, this time, he was assaulting himself—hitting his own head against the wall in a fit of self-loathing that came on in a flash.
The alleyway was dim, moss growing up the sides of the brick at the bases of the walls, vines creeping along the surfaces. Wynn turned, letting his back lean against the wall, as he slowly sank down to sit on the ground. This was never going to work out—and he knew so. He’d been best friends with Ryder since they were little kids—it was obvious that he would know Ryder well. It was obvious that he should have known what would have happened if he introduced Ryder to a really nice girl—the redhead had always been a bit abrasive and hard to get along with for anyone other than Wynn, throughout the elementary grades of the small school that they had in the walled-off community. Ryder had never really gotten close to a girl before. Wynn closed his eyes, sighing. Of course the two of them would start going out. It was the perfect love story. Boy meets girl, they fall in love, everyone lives happily ever after.
Well…except one.
Wynn was pretty sure that if his heart had a face, Ryder would have punched it without even realizing. Watching the two of them together was agonizing—and Wynn was disgusted with himself over the fact that he thought that. He only wanted Ryder to be happy—so Wynn couldn’t help but feel a massive pang of guilt whenever he wished that it could be him in that girl’s place—but no. Wynn knew that Ryder didn’t like him—not like that, at least. He had a girl now—a girl that he was in love with. Or at least close to it. It was way too obvious when you looked at them, how shy they were when they held hands, when they gave each other tiny little kisses—
Ugh. It was just…Wynn couldn’t even describe how much just watching that made him want to gag. He knew that he was technically expected to be happy if Ryder was happy, but…
He wasn’t happy. He wasn’t happy one bit. His heart ached, like it was just about ready to splinter and split apart. It was wonderful that Ryder and his new girlfriend were happy, yes…but Wynn found himself alone. He felt like a third wheel—he’d been retreating from them more, and whenever Ryder questioned him about it, he had to brush him off. Because he couldn’t tell Ryder the real reason—even though the most painful part of all was true:
Ryder knew that Wynn liked him. And he avoided the topic like the plague. He outright refused to talk about it—and Wynn just didn’t know why.
He finally sighed, standing up in the alleyway and brushing his pants off. He didn’t know where he’d find Ryder—he was on a date, apparently. It was only times like these when Wynn let his façade fall—that constant happiness wasn’t his real self. It really wasn’t…but, he didn’t want to let anyone worry about him. He felt sickened whenever he felt as if he was burdening people. Whenever he was around others, he made sure to always keep smiling, always stay happy—it was his job to help keep Ryder happy, after all, right…? He couldn’t let himself have to depend on Ryder anymore…he’d burdened his friend enough just when the redhead used to have to protect him when he was being bullied.
So now, as every other time that he was alone, Wynn let his façade fall—the constant smile was no longer on his face—it was replaced by a neutral, if not somewhat depressed expression. He moved out of the alleyway, walking onto the street. This town was small—everyone knew everyone else. He knew that if anyone saw him, he’d have to try to act cheerful again…which wouldn’t be easy in the slightest. He had the urge to try to simply hurry back to his house…but it was all the way across the town. Small or not, he was bound to run into somebody if he just went like that.
His head still hurt like hell as he began wandering back into the back alleys, heading through, not knowing where he was going. Where was he going…? Both in actual direction, and in life, where was he going…? He remembered an old saying he’d heard once…and found himself fully agreeing with it. ‘Love’s a bitch.’
Love was a bitch, and Wynn hated being in love with somebody he knew would never love him back. He hated it. He didn’t hate Ryder…no, he hated himself. His own emotions. He felt foolish…or maybe he was just starting to go crazy or something…he could tell that this infatuation of his was beginning to edge into the realm of obsession…and that notion scared him. He didn’t want to change—especially not for the sake of a love that would never come true.
As he continued to wander aimlessly through the back-alleys…he eventually noticed something, in an old, dirty back corner of one of the dead ends. It was on the ground….at the base of the wall…it was a hole. A cracked hole in the wall, just about big enough for a person to get through…
His eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he looked at the hole. Wasn’t this wall supposed to be impenetrable…?
He knelt down in front of the hole, looking out…and just stared for a moment. He could actually see it—the outside world. He could go out there now, and experience life like he’d never experienced it…maybe find a new town…a new life…leave this one of love unrequited behind him…but no. He couldn’t. It…was really impossible, wasn’t it? There was no running from these feelings…he really was trapped…trapped within these worn-out, cracked walls…even though they had holes in them…
Wynn stood back up again slowly, getting ready to turn—only to hear a loud click. Right at the back of his head. And then, a voice:
“Don’t move.”
Well. This was just shaping up to be a wonderful day.

~Elliot Payne~
Prologue

Despair, violence, cold loneliness.
Elliot's mind wandered as an expression of melancholy possessed his usual monotone face. Sadness, loneliness, the past. Violence, pain, the past. Many men feared the future for a multitude of reasons: death, reaching an old age, change itself. Not Elliot, for he did not fear the future, only the past.
His thoughts continued to linger in his own mind until he received a violent wake up call, a slash across his face. Blood as red as a rose began to trail down the man's face. Slowly his expression of despondence turned to that of rage.
His eyes looked down upon the man that stood before him. He was short, his body lean and thin like a corpse. His face gaunt and pale, half covered up in bandages. His single eye glistened in the cold night. This man, Elliot had always hated the way he dressed, an undone dress shirt, a fur coat, and a peculiar bowler hat that Elliot had sworn he never saw before. His name was Akuryo Beckwood, the only enemy of Elliot Payne, and his only friend.
The pale man only let out a gin before Elliot immediately thrust his arms out at Akuryo to punch him, only for the man to jump out of the way like a circus acrobat. He had jumped into the shadows, his enemies had become a phantom hiding in the darkness of a dead city. All Elliot could hear was the bone-chilling laughter of his foe.
Elliot began to carefully trod through the streets in an attempt to track down his enemy, but he found his mind lingering once again...

Years ago, in the shires of Yorkshire. Elliot found it hard to remember when he was such a small child, it was his original family. He had never given the whole story about them to anyone. He didn't know much about them, but he knew that they were originally from America, but they had fled from home during the fall of their home nation. Elliot lived in the moors alone with his family, isolated from the rest of society. And all he could remember was pain, unbearable pain. Beatings, being locked in the barn, having to fend of the infested rodents that would try to nip at him in his sleep at night. He remembered it all, his degenerate parents, they had always seemed to flip between the caring selves he always wanted to believe were his real parents and the monsters he had feared as a child. His father with his fists, and his wrench. His mother with her boots, and her broom. They didn't drink, they didn't do drugs, they just thoroughly enjoyed torturing their son. Elliot couldn't remember if he had siblings or not, maybe he did? It was all a blur, but he remembered how it all ended. In flames.
Elliot, while trapped in the barn once again by his parents, had managed to light one of the lanterns he had stashed away in the barn. He remembered how amazing it was to have a single flame in the coldness of the barn. it was dark, cold, full of vermin, but the flame managed to keep all those problems away. It was his only safety, it was the only thing in the world he loved.
And then one day his parents found out, they had ran into the barn, and Elliot feared yet another beating.
He hid, in a dark corner of the decaying bar, as his parents tried to find him. The small boy feared for his life. And then he found a small hole in the barn, just enough to escape. It was just there,  the boy had never seen it before. It did not matter to him either way, and he escaped, but not before tipping over the lantern. Fearing his parents discovering his escape and giving chase, he locked the bar from the outside and fled.
The young boy Elliot Payne watched as the bar was caught up in a holocaust of flames. This injurious inferno engulfed the barn, leaving is parents screaming in pain as they were burned alive.
And where was the boy Elliot while this happened? Watching the flames devour the barn with his eyes, caught in the wonder of it all. It was an amazing sight, the flame that had protected him from the darkness and the vermin before was now protecting him from the monsters that haunted him.
A few days later, the police arrived and took Elliot away.

Elliot's eyes widened and he found himself in No Man's Land once again. Right, he had loved this place. Finally, he could be alone, isolated from the rest of the world where he could finally live in peace. But this man, this Akuryo was constantly bothering him. He could hear the laughter again, echoing through the eerily empty streets. Elliot was no stranger to such haunting laughter. He was caught up in the past once again.

Elliot was taken in by the government, his parents had died in an accident, and Elliot was to be given to a foster family. In truth Elliot had looked forward to a new family, to be safe from the monsters that had bullied him so in his past. And when he arrived at the home located in London a few days later, the boy was amazed at the sight: a dozen boys and girls his age, and a lovely middle-aged couple. The two adults looked down on Elliot, smiling to him "Welcome!" they had both said in unison to the boy, followed by a "Welcome!" from the children. Elliot had finally found his home! And then the government suits left.
The building suddenly changed, no long bright and cheerful, the cheerful couple still smiled, but their smiles were not one of merriness, only madness. The children ran off into the building, and Elliot's mind went blank.
Despair, violence, cold loneliness.
They had all struck again.
The couple were even more sadistic and monstrous than his own parents. Elliot found himself to be the weakest of the children, and he found no counsel in them. Instead he found himself the target of them all. It was a dog-eat-dog world in that small house. And Elliot was the weakest dog.
That was, until the flame struck again. This time, there was no accident.
He made sure they all burned, the adults, the children, everything.
All he could do was watched with large wondrous eyes and a crooked smile. They all burned, he could hear the children screaming in horror and pain. Elliot smiled and he was no longer in despair, no longer the victim of violence, and no longer cold or lonely. He had the loving heat of the fire to warm up his heart.

Elliot's eyes widened and he found himself in No Man's Land once again. His enemy had finally struck, lunging out at him from above. Elliot quickly lifted his arms up at the vampire, and an inferno emerged from his arms, blasting out at the pale man. There were no screams of pain, no corpse, Elliot did not find his enemy in the aftermath of the flames. The man was gone once again. Elliot could hear his footsteps in the darkness, and his haunting laughter once again. It was like a game of hide and seek. How Akuryo loved his games, and how Elliot hated them all so much. He would not be caught up in the games of sick twisted people. No. They weren't people.
They were monsters.

Elliot remembered his second home, if you could call that a home. The government had already started to collapse, and the orphan problem was becoming larger. Too many homeless, too many lost children. And someone decided after reading a certain satiric paper that perhaps satire could be turned into reality.

They didn't hide it, the nice man that had brought Elliot to his first home brought him to the second: A butcher shop. The images he saw there haunted him for the rest of his life. He and the man entered from behind the building. It was dark, and damp, and two big men stood in front of the way out as soon as the boy and his guardian entered. And it was there where Elliot saw what would haunt him for the rest of his life. The butcher stood in the middle of a blood littered room, and just as the boy entered, he could hear the sound of something being chopped. Chopped right off. The head of a little girl rolled to Elliot's feat. The pale body of the little girl stood on the butcher table, and the fat, scarred butcher let out a cackle as he tossed the body onto a pile of other bodies. Then it happened.
Elliot snapped. No more. No more. No more. He was not going to deal with this any longer. The man just lunged out at the butcher.
Not even the butcher expected what would happen next. Sure, the children resisted, or ran, but this boy lunged out at his with an animistic rage. Elliot took a branding iron, hot and steaming, and thrust it out at the butcher's face. The man screamed in pain, Elliot began to take joy in the screams of pain, at least those that belonged to his enemy. Elliot took the butcher knife, and the man was beheaded. As for the man that had lead him to the building, Elliot could never bring it upon himself to personally kill him.
No, Elliot was feeling merciful, he only cut off the man's feat so he could no longer run. The boy then lit the butcher shop on fire. Anyone that was still in there was burned alive, Elliot watched the ballet of embers that danced before him. He watched in amazement, the boy decided then and there that his only dear friend in life was fire.

Elliot's eyes widened and he found himself in No Man's Land once again. His enemy struck, again. This time Elliot was in no mood to wait, and a simple punch to the face would suffice. It worked, and the man was thrown against the ground. Elliot approached Akuryo, and began to beat on him. Punch, after punch, after punch. Repeatedly until Elliot could feel the beautiful red fluids of his enemy splashing against his face "Oh...! So your blood is red... like a human's...? How... interesting..." the Inferno spoke out, he would make sure he got what he wanted.

Just like as a child, he never wanted a home, he only wanted to be alone, with the flames, his only friend. He didn't wait for any of his future foster families to express anything to him. Elliot just stayed away, sheltered himself from them, and burned them down when the opportunity presented itself. In his childhood Elliot had burned down 12 homes, and killed over a hundred people.

Elliot finally put an end to his beat down, he looked down on Akuryo, the man was lying in a puddle of his own blood. Yet, he still lived. Did this man... he could have fought back... but he had just stood there. Elliot decided not to think about it any more, and began to slowly back away from his enemy "I'm letting you... live... don't bother me again... lunatic..." the blonde muttered as he walked off into the dead streets of a dead city. This was what he wanted, an home where he could do as he wanted, and where everyone else was just like him.

Elliot looked to the future, perhaps in the future he had a chance of being saved.

~Beatrice Miona~
Part 2

1...2...3...
6...7...8...
......10......

The amount of times Beatrice had to move foster homes was astounding. She would be in a family, and she would either not get along with the kids, destroy parts of the home, or just...not eat. The problems grew more and more, and it seemed she would not be fostered anymore. She was dubbed too dangerous to be in a family and would grow up in a orphanage and go to school from there. The adults knew that this would destroy a nine year old growing girl, but they had no choice.

During a meeting, Beatrice was sitting, listening....watching the adult quabble.
"She's too dangerous for a normal family!"
"But if we don't put her in a family, the trauma will become worse."
"She's already going to therapy...her parents were-"
"Shhh...she's not ready to know."

It was there conversation that pissed her off the most. Soon, she had enough, and flipped the table she sat at.
"I KNOW MY MAMA AND PAPA ARE DEAD! YOU FUCKERS DON'T NEED TO HIDE IT!" the nine year old screamed and ran to her room in the orphanage. She would remain alone then...and not come back out until the next morning. It was those times during breakfast, it was loud and painful, but Beatrice said no words. She was absolutely silent. Nothing.
"Excuse me..."
A voice familiar to Beatrice made her turn her head. How long had it been since she saw Miss Carrie Conway...or should she say, Mrs. Carrie Lamar? It seemed the woman got married to her fiancee of several years, and came to rescue Beatrice. Or had she?
"Yes, may we help you?" the person in charge of the orphans asked. "I'm sorry, the kids are eating right now."
"Oh, that's no problem." she said, handing some papers to the other woman. "I've come to pick up the girl I want to adopt." she gave a smile. "My husband is waiting in the car you see, we don't have much time."
The woman looked through the papers. "I don't understand...these are for-"
"Yes, Beatrice Miona, I've come to take her to our home. She's legally my daughter now." Lamar said. "Could you tell her?"
"O-of course...but...are you-"
"I'm quite positive."
"Ah...alright..." the woman went back into the dining room, and went over to Beatrice. "You've been adopted. Go pack your things, okay?" Beatrice gave no second answers. She ran up to her room, and grabbed everything, putting it in a backpack. She ran back down, and stood on the stoop, as the final arrangements were made. Soon, Beatrice saw Mrs. Lamar come out. She held out her hand.
"Let's go home Bunny." she said, her voice as Beatrice remembered it. Tears trimmed her eyes.
"...thank ya...." Bunny said, and hugged the woman. She started to cry. This was the fist sense of clarity Bunny had...ever since she did...that...
The woman hugged her back, and they got into the car, and drove home. They drove out into the country, far away from city suburbs...from anywhere. There was a town nearby when they made a turn, but soon, the disappeared into a forested area. They parked the car, and Mrs. Lamar helped Bunny out.
"This place...is home?" she asked, a little confused. Carrie nodded.
"We just moved out here, but we have everything unpacked. You'll have your own room too." she smiled. "There are some other things you can look forward to. Come on Bunny." With that, Bunny was shown her new home with the Lamar's, Jeremy and Carrie. She had a nice room, the home was in the mountains so there was plenty to do. There was a lake nearby too for swimming if she wanted, and she was enlisted to go to school at a elementary school in town. After the whole adjustment, Bunny asked why she was taken in. The answer was...surprising.
"Well...ever since the incident...I couldn't get it out of my head...your parents were...great people...and I wanted to show them that I was able and ready to help...plus...I knew this adjustment would be hard...and I believe...that since I was there that night...I could understand you. And when I told Jeremy, he wanted to help too...so many others wanted to help you...so we all decided to help...this is why we're out here...this is like...your place to be..." she finished. Bunny smiled, agreeing with most of it. There was a few things she didn't agree with...and it was that only her Mother was a good person...Papa was a scum bag...a asshole...A MURDERER! A DREG OF SOCIETY! The thought of her Father through Bunny quickly into a rage, where she tore up her room that was made, destroying a chair and a drawer from a desk. Carrie stopped her and held the girl tightly as she was punched and bruised. She didn't let go until Bunny was crying in her arms.
"There was a trigger somewhere..."
"I'm sorry..."
"It was my fault..."
All the quickly forgiven. They continued to live happily. For five years, Beatrice Miona was a happy girl. She was with people who understood her, her mental state was on a tight regiment of physical exercise and therapy, the police closed the case on her home, claiming it was a freak fire...they had closure.
Bunny had closure.

In the town, it was a normal Saturday. Jeremy and Carrie took Bunny shopping, since a few new shops opened up. Bunny had turned into a very beautiful teenager, a happy girl known throughout the town. They had finished doing some shopping, and were up for a movie night with some friends.
"You ready to go Bunny?" Carrie asked. Bunny nodded.
"Yeah!" she said. They packed the stuff in the truck, and all got it. Jeremy started the car, but no one could even comprehend what happened next. There was a loud explosion, the entire car engulfed in flames. Bunny lost consciousness rather early in the process, not given any time to really protect herself. Carrie and Ryan were both engulfed in the flames, and killed instantly. Everyone was on high alert, many people tried to call the police and fire department. They got on the scene, and managed to pull out the corpses. Jeremy and Carrie Lamar were killed instantly in the blast, due to blunt head trauma and third degree burns. Bunny however, either through luck or sheer force of will, was alive. Her breathing was labored, her body torn to shreds, but she was indeed alive, against all odds. She was taken to the hospital, rushed there the tires screeching along the paved roads. Time was rushing now, hours became minutes, minutes into seconds, and seconds passed so fast no one could even count them. Time was moving and it was being wasted.
Days passed, and nothing happened. The body was so managled, limbs had to come off. An arm and a leg were removed, while the others were saved.
A week passed...she awoke. It was a miracle. Bunny awoke...and started yelling for Jeremy and Carrie, trying to get up, trying to escape. But, the doctors and nurses kept her back. They didn't know how to handle her, her bursts were so...loud and destructive. Bunny wouldn't stop, and soon, it was too the point, they put her in a seperate room, alone from everyone. Bunny would not be seen for days, would only get meals and medicated, but nothing else. Bunny had nothin...she lost her family again...this time, she wasn't the one to kill them. She sat up, and got her fork. It was plastic, but with enough time, she could cut her wrists with it. It would hurt...but it would be better then this bullshit. She started at it, the pain making her whince, but her conviction was stronger. She wanted to die...she wanted to...
"Excuse me...are you Miss Beatrice Miona?" a man asked at the door. Bunny turned, hiding the fork.
"Who are ya? Get out! I won't be seein nobody!" she said. The man walked in, and took the fork away, despite her best attempts. He gave a smile.

"I'm with a company called Once Source...I think we can help you..."

~Yvonne Wissenchaft~
Prologue

The needle went into her skin once more. The burning sensation in her veins came again, but she had grown numb to it at this point, which worried her more than if she had actually felt the pain. She was supposed to feel pain, the blood meant she was supposed to be hurting right now. She just clenched her fists and waited for the burning to die down, staring at her mother's big blue eyes. "You're doing great, sweetie, but stop tensing your muscle, you're stopping the proper flow..." The soothing voice of the woman both relaxed and scared her, she just needed to remind herself what this was for: greater good, always for the greater good. "Okay, back to the treadmill." The young girl was lead by the hand through the long, white halls, the walls were a sickly yellowed color, not quite yellow but no longer white. The smell of disinfectant would have been overwhelming for most, but this one had grown up with the odor, and now felt strange when it wasn't there. The gloved hand that held her was familiar but distant, she had always known her parents as Dr Wissenchaft, both of them, never 'mom' or 'dad', and the whiteness of the disposable glove that pressed against her skin brought her attention to her arm for the first time in a while.

The color was drained from her skin, leaving a dry, almost translucent layer; blue and purple veins all too visible beneath the pale, papery skin. Dinosaur and flower band-aids adorned both of the young girl's arms, and she noticed her legs covered in a few also, all the bandaged areas with a throbbing numbly. She stumbled for a second, tripping on her own feet, clumsy and barefoot. Her mother kept a firm grip on her elbow and pulled her back up, leading her to the chilly room that she had become all too familiar with.

A single treadmill stood in the middle of the room, the rest was a jumble of wires, screens, monitors, electrodes and, of course, more syringes. The girl could feel that she should be cringing, she should be turning around and running away from this place, but it had become a home, just another part of her routine. She got on the treadmill and waited for all the wires and electrodes to be attached to her. She felt the sticky sensation of all the stickers being glued to her, and the constant beeping of the monitors dulled her mind, she didn't even notice the male Dr Wissenchaft enter the room and place the helmet on her head. So once more she started running on the treadmill, her knees aching and threatening to collapse, cold sweat running down the back of her neck. A lock of green hair fell over the young girl's eyes and she let it hang there for a second, enjoying the splash of color in the otherwise black and white room, but her common sense told her it was a distraction, and so she raised her hand to tuck the strand of hair behind her ear. Big mistake. That one move made her lose her balance, as the only thing that kept her going was the continuity of her movements, and her dulled thoughts barely registered the falling, her arms not bothering to shoot out in front of her to break her fall.

In the back of her mind she noted her lip splitting and a bruise forming on her left cheek. The throbbing she felt on her ankle could only mean she'd either broken or twisted that, but she couldn't bring herself to care all that much. Why wasn't she crying? She felt like she SHOULD be crying, or at least feeling something more than indifference and dull pain, a pain that seemed to distant to be her own. The girl felt an emptiness where her pain should have been, and for a second remembered when she still felt her muscles aching all the time, her intense headaches and dizziness after getting the first few vaccines. When had she become so...numb?

She was snapped out of her train of thought by two pairs of arms, which pulled her up and brought her back to reality. She looked confused, but both Dr Wissenchafts didn't even make eye contact, dabbing some medicine with a gauze on her split lip, applying some ice to her cheek, wrapping her ankle so it looked like a mummy. The thought of mummy feet brought a weak smile to her lips, mummies were funny. The Dr Wissenchafts finished tending to her and put her back on her feet, but her knees now trembled too much, her stick-like legs too weak to hold the weight of her body after the physical shock. They insisted, trying to get her back on the treadmill once they had reattached all the wires, uttering words that were probably supposed to be encouraging, but every two steps the girl took, she stumbled and had to hold on to the monitors, which was unacceptable. They couldn't have her damaging the equipment. So she was sent to bed, the studies could continue in the morning.

As she was lead back to her sleeping quarters, the girl noted that pesky lock of green hair falling back on her face, and she couldn't help but smile like when she saw her mummy feet. Her slow pace seemed to annoy the male Dr Wissenchaft, who was taking her back to her room, and he sighed with irritation as he was unable to go faster without the girl tripping over her own feet. Finally, the white door at the end of the hall came into view, a single sign on the door read 'Specimen 001 - Yvonne Wissenchaft'.

Dr Wissenchaft tucked her into bed with what was supposed to be a warm smile, and the girl ate it all up, smiling and kissing his cheek after he had kissed her clammy forehead. He frowned at the lock of her covering part of her eye, and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, a hard movement that caused a sharp shadow of pain on her scalp, though at this point what was supposed to be pain felt more like dull pins and needles on her head. The strange warmth of the kiss lingered on her forehead after her hair had been moved out of the way, reminding her of how important she was, how much the doctors cared about her. She would have tossed and turned in her bed if she had had the strength to do so, but her body was exhausted, while her mind was numb, but seemed too tired to go into a proper sleep. The girl's purple eyes remained wide open, staring at the painfully white ceiling with a sort of hatred, though her emotions were too dull, too bland to even come close to actual hatred.

As she lay in bed, feeling a special type of numbness that could only mean that she was supposed to be feeling plenty of pain, she tried to remember when she had gotten here. When had she become Specimen 001? WHY had she become Specimen 001? She found no answers, remembering nothing beyond the yellowish-white walls of the facilities she was confined to, nothing other than the constant tests, evaluations, wires, monitors and syringes. Dr Wissenchaft the husband and Dr Wissenchaft the wife were the only people she knew, and the girl never felt like there was anything missing, as she had never known of another way of living. The only thing that gave her the smallest idea that some other type of life was possible was the one potted plant on the base. It was a small Venus Flytrap, which she had only caught a glimpse of once, when one of the Dr Wissenchafts was collecting a green ooze from it with a syringe, but the memory of it haunted her till this day, a small splash of color in the white compound, a small splash of life in the world of monitors and wires that the girl had found herself in routinely.

The girl's eyes sagged when the door to her room opened again, one of the doctors coming to check if she was ready for the tests again, but one look at her and the white-clad scientist was gone, the soft thud of the door sounding behind him. She was getting closer to sleeping now, but how long had it been? 10 minutes? 10 hours? 10 years? Did it even matter? She managed to muster enough strength to lift her hand for a moment, looking at her wrist, where a plastic band had numbers and names written on it and again it read 'Specimen 001 - Wissenchaft, Yvonne - 7 years, 4 months, 16 days'. That bracelet was what she was: a combination of numbers and letters, describing all that she was and could be. Sure the numbers would change, grow, but she was still the same Specimen 001.

When she finally caught herself drifting closer to sleep, she allowed herself to think of the green creature she had caught sight of, the plant that she had not dared ask about because she had just never felt like it was her place to do so. She thought of this plant and the numbness seemed to become less numb, she felt more...real. The girl felt the rawness of her over-perforated skin, the sharp stabs of pain on her ankle, the ghost of the burning in her chemically-saturated veins. The starched blankets were too rough against her oversensitive skin, the room too chilly, making what was exposed of her skin to have goosebumps. She shivered, which hurt, as her muscles were so exhausted...yet she didn't seem to mind. It had been much too long since she had allowed herself to feel. She had grown into the mind-numbing routine of the compound, the vaccines that made her dizzy, the exercise that made her muscles ache, the tests that hurt her and scarred her and made her dread waking up; it had become normal. It was her life, and feelings were of little use here, so she had grown immune to them.

The plant, this alternative form of life, seemed to bring out things that she had shoved into a corner of herself long ago, and the reminder that there was a possibility of something more...the splash of color midst the black and white. The reminder may have come painfully, but if she was feeling pain, at least she was finally feeling something again. Staring at the too-white ceiling of her room, almost asleep, and picturing the small specimen of life, a specimen that was NOT Specimen 001, Yvonne Wissenchaft felt different. For the first time in a long, long time, the girl felt real.

~Vivian Orderly~
Part 2

"It was you then, Mr. Anderson! Do you deny it?!" Phoenix's voice rang out, pointing at the man he was just cross examining. Soon, the expression on the man's face changed. He was smiling...but it wasn't a smile that was gentle or kind. He was leering, eerie even. Soon, he started to laugh.


"Ha...ha ha....HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!" he kept laughing, the noise filling the courtroom. He gripped onto the witness stand, looking directly at Vivian, who was sitting in the Defendant's Chair, petrified. Tears were on her cheeks. This whole thing...was horrible.
"Don't you get it now Vivian!?" he said to her. "You are nothing! You will always be nothing! No one truly cares about how you feel, WHO YOU ARE!" he started to laugh again. After about 10 seconds of laughing, the courtroom got quiet, but Anderson spoke again. "Did you actually think ANYONE CARED!? YOU'RE SO GOD DAMN STUPID! NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOU! THEY STEP ALL OVER YOU, AND STILL YOU DONT GET IT! HA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" that last laugh echoed. It echoed hard. Vivian didn't move...she couldn't even breathe. The person she thought who was one of her friends...a person she cared about...he...he didn't...
As he was escorted out of the room to get arrested, Vivian was brought to the stand. The Judge cleared his throat, and looked at her.
"I have no words to describe my feelings about this, Miss Orderly...I shall waste no time in handing down my verdict...I find the defendant Vivian Orderly, in the charges of Blackmail and posession illegal of Firearms...Not Guilty." he banged the gavel down, though there was a whimpering.
"Why...why would he...?" she whimpered. The Judge heard it and got confused.
"Miss Orderly?"
"He...he betrayed..."
"Vivian?" Phoenix asked, not really knowing what was going on. He was getting worried.
"No...I...I won't..." she covered her face with her hands, and dropped to her knees.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
She started to cry, her body heaving for air when she needed it. Her palms were wet with tears within seconds. The girl's heart and spirit had broken. The Judge himself got up from his seat, and went down to her, kneeling down and hugging the woman's body.
"Mr. Wright...I will calm her down...let us be for a while." he said. Phoenix and Maya nodded and left the court room. The Judge helped Vivian into his office, in order to calm her down. Edgeworth watched and listened. He was the last one to exit the courtroom. There was some things he needed to do.

An hour later, Phoenix and his associate Maya were waiting in the defenses lobby. They heard the door open, and Vivian came out, holding a hanky. She was with the Judge.
"Vivian!" Maya called, running over to her. Vivian let out a sigh, dabbing her eyes with the hanky. She looked pale, and frankly, not well. The Judge gave Phoenix a stern, but somewhat soft look.
"You did well today...but know there are two other court dates for her."
"I know sir..."
"Yes well...I'll be off. Good Day." with that, he took leave. Phoenix sighed, and went over to his client.
"Are you...feeling any better?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. Vivian gave a slight nod.
"Y-yeah...I'm fine. I just...I..." she took a second to collect herself. "I didn't know that...this was...that he was..." she couldn't finish the sentence. She was too upset to find the words.
"Vivi..." Maya went over and hugged Vivian. "That guy wasn't worth your time...you deserve someone better then that." she let go and smiled. "Okay?"
"Someone...better? Oh...I don't...after this, everyone will know me and...it'll be...I'll have..." once again, her words were escaping her.
"She'll have that stigma..." Phoenix thought. "She'll think people will look down on her because of this case...I wish I could stop that from happening...but...I don't have that kind of power...the most I can do is clear her of any doubt, and prove her innocent!" he nodded to himself.
"But...I...thank you."
Phoenix flinched. "Huh? Wh-what?"
Vivian was looking at him. "I said...thank you...you...are really working hard...for me sake..." she said. "I'm...grateful and lucky..." she gave a small smile. Phoenix blushed a bit and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.
"Oh uh...it...it's my job..." he looked back. "Don't worry...I'll make people see your innocent..." he sounded confident...which was something Vivian didn't have in herself. Confidence. It pained Phoenix to know that she, this woman, had such heavy claims on her. It was clear to everyone, more so even today, that the girl was innocent. Why could no one else see this?
"Wright..." a very familiar gruff voice called from behind Wright. He turned to see his long time friend Edgeworth, arms crossed and as stern as ever.
"Edgeworth...what are you doing here?" Phoenix asked. Maya was listening, always curious and full of energy, but Vivian took a few steps back, looking down at the ground. She really wasn't in a good place right now, and Edgeworth wasn't making it better.
"I'm impressed with how you did...but it's not over...the robbery portion of the case is in two days." Edgeworth said. "Don't let your guard down, even for a second. Miss Mercy will be pulling out all the stops...you need to be ready for her assault."
"Yeah...say...why are you so interested in his case Edgeworth?"
"None of your concern." came a curt reply, and then a strange sensation filled Phoenix, one he felt many times before. Everything went black, and chains started to wrap around Edgeworth, followed by odd looking locks. Edgeworth didn't seem to notice the chains at all, he didn't even feel them, but to Phoenix, they were clear as day.
"Psych-locks...why does he...have so many?" Phoenix thought to himself. There were six locks. This meant that Edgeworth had something to hide, and it had to do with his client.
"Wright..." Edgeworth spoke again, and suddenly, all the chains and locks vanished. "Wright...what is going on?"
"Oh uh..." Phoenix stumbled. "I'm just...tired...it's been a long trial...I think I need a break." he said, making something...though it was sort of true. He was tired, and it showed. He didn't have time to rest though...he needed to start investigating.
"I see...well then...may I escort your client to the detention center?" he asked. Vivian's head shot up, locking eyes with Edgeworth.
"W-what?" she asked. Phoenix looked at Maya, who nodded back.
"I don't have a problem with it. We need to get going anyway." he said. "Are you okay with that Vivian?" he then looked at her.  
"Huh?" Vivian looked really small. Scared even. What was going on here?
"I'm...fine with it..." Vivian said, starting to calm down. "I mean...I'd rather not have the police take me unless it's that investigator..." she said.
"You mean Gumshoe? He's at the next scene already." Edgeworth said. "Come, I'll take you to the Detention Center." he gestured her to move with him.
"O-okay...thank you again Mr. Wright...Maya..." she waved and went with Edgeworth outside. Maya let out a little chuckle.
"I don't know...they look kind of cute together." Maya said, smiling at them leaving.
"What do you mean?" Phoenix asked.
"I mean...it's nothing, come on! We have a bank to get to!" she said, jumping and ready for action. Phoenix nodded.
"Let's go..." they left as well to get to the next crime scene.

~Meanwhile~

Edgeworth and Vivian were driving through the city streets, Edgeworth in the driver's seat while Vivian seat next to him. They were quiet, even awkward for a little while. Vivian was watching where he was going, but it didn't seem to be in the direction of the detention center.
"Uh...Mr. Edgeworth...where are we going?" she asked.
"I thought maybe you could get some fresh air." he said, parking the car. Vivian looked where they were, and it was a park. People Park. She unbuckled her seat belt and was about to open the door, but Edgeworth did it for her.
"Thank you..." she said, and stepped out. This park was a good size, and there wasn't many people there. Most people didn't go to the park at sunset, but Edgeworth decided to let her have a break. There were some things he wanted to discuss as well.

The couple walked for a little while, both not talking, but enjoying the company and the atmosphere. Soon, both of them sat on a bench.
"Feeling better?" Edgeworth asked. Vivian looked back, nodding.
"Y-yes...very much...I love coming to parks and just...walking...it really calms me down...but are you sure this is allowed?" she asked. Edgeworth shrugged.
"Most likely not. But I pulled a few strings...the Judge gave me permission..." he said, but then grew quiet. Neither he or Vivian spoke for a moment. They were silent, almost a little creepy.
"So...why exactly did you bring me here?" Vivian asked, looking at Edgeworth. He looked back at her.
"I...had a feeling you would like this...I don't know...it was a kind of spur of the moment sort of thing."
"I...thought you got permission from the Judge."
"I did...but I didn't know where to take you...but something told me this place would be a good fit...so I followed my instinct." Vivian chuckled a little. "What's so funny?"
"I...I guess...I don't know...this kind of takes me back a little...to some...good memories. I feel relaxed even..." she smiled and looked at the ground. "It just...reminds me of when things were...simple...not like this..." she looked at him once more, a hint of pink on her face. "Thank you." she said. Edgeworth smiled a little bit.
"My pleasure."
"You're smiling..."
Edgeworth looked confused, the smile gone. "And?"
"You never smile...not even back in college..."
There was a pause again.
"How do I know you?" Edgeworth asked. "It's been...bothering me...I recognize you, but I can't put my finger on it. It's been bothering me since we talked the first time."
"It has?" Vivian asked.
"Quite so...will you please tell me? This could be vital information."
"I already told you, we went to the same-"
"But that's not all...is it...? I did some digging...and I have an idea, but I'm not confident in it." Vivian leaned back, looking at the sky.
"Go on..." she said. Edgeworth got up from the bench.
"In College...in Germany...though my memory is fuzzy...I remember somethings...and looking through some old yearbooks, I discovered something." he started to pace. "You said you went to College with me...but that would be impossible. Your name, Vivian Orderly, was not in the book, nor in the records of the school. I had them check my year, and you weren't there." Vivian said nothing, so Edgeworth continued. "So...you must have assumed a different name. And led your life in that name. Is this accurate so far?" he asked. Vivian, again, said nothing. Her hands did start to shake a little. Edgeworth took that as a sign. "With this, I looked through some old articles and yearbooks, and saw something interesting. A girl looked very familiar to you. Looking at these facts...it's certain. There is no denying it." he looked at her with a cold glare. "You can only be Hailey Amir." Vivian gasped, and covered her face. Edgeworth knew it. She was Hailey Amir indeed...his girlfriend who disappeared so suddenly.

There was a pause. Vivian let out a sigh, and got up.
"You're...you're right..." she said, looking back at him. "I am Hailey Amir...but at the same time...I'm not."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"My name...my true name, is in fact Vivian Orderly. My name was changed to protect me."
"Protect you? From what?"
"I...don't know. When I was little, I ran away from the orphanage I was staying at, sort of living on my own. I don't really remember it...but I knew I was old enough to take care of myself. One day, it was raining, I hadn't eaten in days...I passed out. I passed out thinking I was going to die. I woke up in the hospital later that day. Apparently, a man found me, and took me to get better. His name was Doug Amir. He was an accountant from Europe. He asked me a bunch of questions, who I was, what was going on, where my family was. I told him everything, I had no reason to hide. He heard me, and paid for my care, saying he would be back. Time went by, and he took me in, and I became his daughter, Doug Amir. He was not married and had no children, but he always wanted a daughter. It sort of worked. That was when we moved back to Europe, to Austria. That's where I became Hailey, and where I met you. And when...we..." she stopped, blushing a little. Edgeworth was a little pink himself.
"So...where did you disappear to...?" he asked.
"They found me..."
"The people persuing you?"
"Yes...They found out where I was, who I was...and killed Doug Amir. He called me back telling me I was going back to America...and so...I did...but I went back at Vivian Orderly. When I got here, I was given a job and a place to live, my Father had prepared these things...and I started over again...that's why I was...gone..." she looked at him...and he looked back. They stared at each other for...several minutes.

Both were silent again.

Edgeworth didn't believe it...it was her. He KNEW she was familiar. He slowly went to her, and wrapped his arms around her. Vivian gasped, but didn't make a sound. She closed her eyes.
"I missed you..." Vivian said softly, making no moves. This was a moment of bliss for her...after everything that happened that day...this...this moment...made it worth it.

Until the tremor hit.

The ground started to shake. Vivian gasped and held onto Edgeworth, but that did no good. Edgeworth's eyes flickered, and he hit the ground, taking Vivian with him.
"MILES!?" she shouted, trying to wake him up. "Miles...please wake up! Please!"
"He's not gonna be up for a while..." a voice said, behind them. Vivian turned and saw the figure, getting up.
"Please...you have to help.....ah..AH!" she suddenly had a gun pointed at her. "W..who..."
"I've been waiting...but don't worry...once you're gone, I'll have the means of ruling this world."
"What are you-" and then a shot rang. Vivian was shot through the chest. She had no way to defend herself, and hit the ground, out. Blood pooled from under her. The figure took off, leaving no trace.

It was a few hours later when Edgeworth awoke. He was in his office, on the couch. His jacket was hung up, his cravat was on the desk, and his shoes by the door. He shot up, looking around.
"What...?"
"SIR!" Gumshoe called, running over. Pes, his dog, went over to him, licking his hand. Edgeworth pet the dog and looked up at Gumshoe.
"What happened?"
"There was a tremor sir! When I heard, I came over and saw you outcold, and a woman..."
"VIVIAN!" he got up. "Where is she? Where is that girl?"
"S-she's at the Hickfield Clinic sir, but-"
"I'm going! Pes! Come!" he headed for the door.
"Are you sur-"
"Yes..." and he was gone.

Vivian was shot...but survived. Edgeworth gave all his information, and with his chronic fear of earthquakes, he was proven innocent...but the assassin was still at large. As Edgeworth sat at Vivian's side at the hospital, he knew one thing for certain.

This just got personal....

~Ryder Mercy~
Prologue #1

“STAY—”
Smash.
“—DOWN!”
Smash.
Smash.
Smash.
Blood splattered the walls of the alleyway, dripping down the cement brick buildings like an art project gone wrong. The redhead stood there, breathing hard, crimson-stained bat gripped tightly in hand, pale blue eyes staring upon the mass of crushed meat and bone that had once been the head of the man who had been about to shoot his best friend.
He felt disgusting. He was a killer now, wasn’t he? He wasn’t any better than the man he had just murdered…was he? He slowly looked up from the corpse, meeting Wynn’s eyes. The silver-haired boy’s eyes were wide, and he almost seemed like he was trembling.
“…I…” Ryder tried to speak, but it felt like no words would come out. He had just killed a man. He’d killed a man, all because he’d wanted to keep Wynn alive. He could be tried for murder now. He was a criminal. He’d never wanted to be a criminal—he’d just wanted to live out a normal life—or at least, as normal as it could be, within these confining walls. He’d always wanted to leave the walls, before—but now, he just wasn’t so sure. This man—this single man—the one now laying dead on the ground—had rocked the small world that lay within the walls.
“It’s…It’s fine,” Wynn’s voice jerked Ryder out of his thoughts—as quiet as that voice might have been. The voice was thin, like the wind—as if it would blow away at a moment’s notice—just as the boy had almost very well done when that man had a gun to his head. “I…Th-Thanks. Thank you…”
“…No problem,” Ryder replied breathlessly, still recovering from the frenzy he’d gone into while beating the man to death. It had been lucky that he’d come across these two on his way to baseball practice… “Was…Was he the only one?”
“I don’t know…” Wynn’s eyebrows furrowed in worry as he shook his head. And a moment later, the staccato of gunshots and screams that arose from the nearby school building answered Ryder’s question. The redhead felt himself pale—his brother and sister were in there. The high schoolers had off this day—but the middle schoolers and elementary schoolers didn’t.
“That…came from the school, right…?” Wynn murmured, glancing to the entrance of the alleyway.
“…Yeah…it did,” Ryder answered, before beginning to move towards the street.
“Wait—you’re not going over there, are you?!” Wynn exclaimed, quickly catching up to his friend. “Th-They have guns! They’ll shoot you! W-We need to just stay away…!”
“Staying away isn’t going to save Chelsea and Kieran! O-Or anyone else for that matter!” Ryder cursed the stutter that found its way into his voice. Was he actually afraid? Probably…he’d never even seen a gun in real life until today, much less did he know how to fight against people who had them. And yet, he still found himself walking off towards the very schoolhouse where they had just heard chaos erupt, his bat dragging behind him on the ground, leaving a sticky, red trail behind it on the ground. Wynn was trailing behind him, nervousness obvious in his gait. Ryder knew that they needed a plan—they couldn’t just run into this helter-skelter. And yet—before he even got the chance to begin thinking, they were already at the door. And already were faced with a man pointing a gun at them and telling them firmly to get down onto the ground with their hands over their heads. Wynn looked to Ryder nervously, but Ryder stood his ground. He could feel his heart pounding up in his ears—pounding so hard, he could have sworn that it was trying to leap out of his chest.
“C’mon kid—you realize that this gun’s the real deal, right?” the man in front of them asked, smirking. “It shoots real bullets, that kill REAL people. Just like you. So, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll—” The man cut off as Ryder suddenly charged at him, bat aloft in the air, desperation raging in his eyes. He was going to get these guys out of the school—no matter what. Out of the school, out of their town—out of the world of the living, if he had to.
A gunshot tore through the air, and Ryder distinctively felt a bullet bury its way into his shoulder as he dashed at the man—but he didn’t stop. The pain barely even registered. He brought the bat down atop the man’s head, knocking the man down to his knees, before doing a horizontal swing to the side of the man’s skull—and seeing the side he bludgeoned cave in and spill out blood. The man fell to his side—and was sputtering and twitching, trying to move. Ryder’s eyes widened in shock and disgust—before bringing the bat down a final time, silencing the stranger. He stared down at the remnants of the man’s head for a moment…before slowly turning around to look at Wynn, gulping down his fears back into the pit of his stomach.
“Wynn…stay out here. I don’t want you getting hurt,” he said.
“Huh? But—but what about you? You can’t just go in there alone…!”
“I can, and I will!” Ryder replied, speaking with far more confidence than he was actually feeling at the moment. “And I can’t let you get hurt, either….so just—just stay here and guard the door, alright? I’ll be right back!”
That was a lie. He knew that that was a lie—just as much of a lie as what he told himself as he entered through the door—that he’d just get in and out, with no issues. He paused as he entered the door frame, putting a hand to the now oozing wound at his shoulder, and quickly pulling back and looking at the crimson stain that was now on his hand. That…definitely wasn’t a good sign. But, he had to keep moving…he had to save his siblings, and everyone else…!
He pushed the door open, cringing as it creaked—but as he looked into the wooden hallway, he couldn’t see anyone. He could hear muffled talking—adult male voices—in the classroom at the back. The schoolhouse was small enough, that these strangers had literally taken it over in probably less than a minute…He felt his hand grip tighter around his bat—his knuckles strained white around the metal handle as he silently treaded down the hall. He stopped by the door—it was just slightly ajar, and he pressed himself up against the wall outside the room, listening. There really wasn’t much to hear, though…just the intruders talking about how they were going to waste the town…and it really sickened him to hear it. He wanted to look into the room…he desperately wanted to be able to see if his brother and sister were okay…but, he knew that if he looked in, he’d be—
“HEY, you!”
—caught. What even—
Ryder looked down the hall, only to see that there was another stranger coming towards him at a run—apparently one of them had been on a potty break. Wonderful.
He turned himself quickly, raising his bat again as the man approached—this one had a knife, and actually managed to dodge Ryder’s first swing.
‘Shit—!’ Ryder thought, swinging at the man again as he felt the cold metal of the knife cutting across his right side. This swing caught the man in his arm as he went to block, and a distinctive cracking sound rang out in the hallway. Ryder raised his arms into the air once more, holding the bat aloft, preparing to bring it down again, his eyes piercing and cold—when he was suddenly grabbed from behind. Oh right—there were still others in the classroom. Shit—well, this wasn’t going well at all.
“The little shit broke my arm!” the knife-wielding goon sputtered out angrily, cradling his cracked appendage and glaring daggers at the newly captured redhead. “I’ll kill ‘im—!”
“You really think that dead hostages are worth anything?” another man snapped at him. This one was apparently the leader—he seemed to garner respect and attention from the rest of the intruders, even the ones who were at the moment trying to hold back the valiantly struggling redhead. “What, he’s using a bat? Grab the stupid thing—man, kid, what do you think this is? A game?”
“I don’t care what it is—! I just want you out of our city! Get out—!” Ryder shouted back at the man in reply as he was being dragged back into the classroom. A quick glance to the side saw the younger students and the teachers huddled together at the opposite side of the room. He scanned through the group—and sure enough, there were Chelsea and Kieran—apparently unharmed. He turned to look back at the group of strangers as the rest of them entered the room. The two men who had been holding him back shoved him away, towards the bookshelves at the left side of the room, away from the still ajar door. All there was between him, the teachers and students, and freedom, was—well—four armed men. Oh. This probably could have been thought out better—no, it definitely could have been thought out better. Still, he kept a tough face on, He couldn’t show weakness—not to punks like these—!
“I’m warning you…” Ryder said to them, standing up, his back to the bookshelves, doing his best to glare threateningly at the intruders, “If you don’t get out now…I might have to do something that I’ll regre—“
And now they were laughing. All four of them. Really?! He’d thought that that had actually sounded kind of tough…! Dammit…!
“Listen, kid,” the leader addressed Ryder again, his three goons flanking him as the man moved forward to stand just in front of Ryder, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a small handgun. “You must have realized by now—but you can’t do jackshit. All you can do is sit back and be a good little boy while we take care of your nice little town here…trust me…we won’t trash it…much…” The man gave a dark chuckle, twirling the gun around his finger in more of a show of skill than anything. The guy obviously felt pretty high and mighty.
“As if I’d do that,” Ryder growled, his eyes glued to the gun as it spun around the man’s finger. “I’m not going to sit by while you’re threatening, or maybe even killing my friends and family…!”
“What—so you want to be some sort of freedom fighter or something, then? Well then…”
Suddenly, the gun was up—and pointing straight at Ryder’s forehead. The group at the other side of the room all let out various gasps of horror—Ryder could only stare in sudden silence. This…wasn’t how this had been supposed to go. No—it had supposed to be him running into the school, kicking some ass, saving everyone, the end. Not ending up with a gun pointing at his head with four goons still alive. No, this was pretty much the exact opposite of how he’d thought it would go. He didn’t know why—maybe he just thought that he would have gotten lucky.
“You going to answer me?” the man with the gun asked, pulling Ryder’s attention back, and away from the instrument of death pressed up against his head. “Are you still planning on fighting us…?”
A long silence followed. Things were looking pretty bad. The man was smirking, so sure of himself, dressed all sharp in a nice suit that was--…what. A nice suit that was suddenly splattered with blood at the top. Ryder’s attention zeroed in on the man’s neck—which had apparently just been slit. The man fell to the ground, writhing and grasping at his neck as blood poured out—and to Ryder’s utter amazement, Wynn was standing there behind where the man had once stood, bloodied knife in hand.
“Mind if I cut in?” Wynn said, looking down at the man and stomping on his throat for good measure. Ryder was pretty sure that his jaw hit the floor at that moment. Just—wow—that was—wow—
“You’re a lifesaver, man,” Ryder said, grinning at Wynn as he stepped forward, standing next to his friend as the two of them faced the three horrified, but still daunting, goons. Wynn only had his pocket knife—and all Ryder had was—well—fists. Not very good odds—Ryder looked over at the one man who had his bat. That guy was going to be the first to go.
“You take right, I take left,” Ryder muttered to Wynn, who nodded in response. Ryder paused for just a moment—before launching himself forward at the man, aiming to punch him in the jaw. The opponent just barely dodged, Ryder’s fist skidding across the side of the man’s face. Shit. Well, he was just off to a great start. He’d never really had any fighting training before…so…
The two of them became locked in a very clunky and awkward hand-to-hand combat—the stranger having trouble since he was keeping Ryder’s bat in one hand—he didn’t want the redhead getting a hold of it again. Ryder managed to begin getting into a rhythm, and managed to land a few good punches—before he suddenly saw the man raise the bat into the air, much like he had a mere minute ago. Ryder’s eyes widened, and he quickly did his best to move to the side—taking a harsh blow to the arm. He grunted as the pain wracked the appendage, before he quickly shoved himself forward to tackle the man, pushing him to the ground and beginning to repeatedly punch at the man’s face with his good arm, up until he managed to stun the man far enough where he was able to wrench the bat out of the man’s grasp and stumble away, only to raise the bat and deal the few finishing blows—once again doing away with the man’s head. He was really on a roll with smashing heads today—and this probably wasn’t the best thing for all of the small children to be seeing. But it was either that, or they’d die…! Ryder quickly looked over at Wynn just in time to see Wynn atop his target on the ground, repeatedly driving his knife into the man’s chest again and again—even going a bit into overkill to make sure that the guy was dead, slitting his throat to be certain. He stumbled to his feet, coming to join up with Ryder at the center of the area.
“Where’s the last guy?” Ryder asked, rubbing at his injured arm a bit as he spoke.
“Last guy? I thought that you had him!” Wynn said, stress edging his voice with a frantic tone, just before the two of them heard a gunshot. They whipped around, looking behind them—only to see the final man holding the gun aloft in one hand—and the arm of a child in the other.
Chelsea.
Ryder’s eyes widened—oh hell no. OH. HELL. NO. Yes, he would have cared if it was anyone else, too, but out of EVERYONE, the guy just HAD to grab HER?!
“You let her go right now, bastard—!” Ryder roared at the man, anger flaring up in his eyes as he gripped his bat in both hands now, despite how badly his arm was hurting. This was a matter of life or death for his little sister here—he couldn’t be worrying about a sore arm…!
“I’m the one giving the orders around here!” the man, clearly in a panicked and desperate state, shouted as he moved his arm down, pressing the barrel of the gun to the terrified girl’s temple.
“R-Ry-Ry…help me…” the little girl whimpered, her tiny body shaking as fearful tears welled up in her eyes. Ryder’s eyes narrowed at the man holding his sister—how old was Chelsea now? Thirteen! She didn’t deserve to have to go through something like this…!
“What is it going to take for you to let her go…?” Ryder spoke to the man firmly, trying his best to keep his voice even and calm, so not to provoke the man into firing…
“Drop your weapons! Drop ‘em…!” the man shouted, jerking his head at Ryder’s bat and Wynn’s knife. The two friends looked at each other solemnly, before Ryder let his bat clatter down to the floor. Wynn frowned in concern before bending down to place his knife on the floor, then straightening up again.
“…Now what?” Ryder said after a moment, his patience wearing thing with each extra moment that Chelsea was in such immediate danger.
“…You,” the man looked to Wynn, grinning like a maniac now that he felt like he was in control of the situation. “Get over there,” the man jerked his head in the direction of the group over at the side of the room. Wynn hesitated for just a moment, looking to Ryder for confirmation. The redhead gave him a deliberate nod, and Wynn conceded, walking over to the other group. “Now, sit down…don’t make any sudden moves…” Wynn nodded carefully to the man’s demands, and sat down among the young children that were there. The armed man then turned his attention back on Ryder. “…Kick that bat away.” Ryder grit his teeth and went ahead with it—kicking the bat behind him, across the room, to the door. There was no chance of using that, now…way too far away…
“Good…good…!” the man said, giving a panicky laugh as he suddenly shoved Chelsea away, back towards the others, then pointed his gun at Ryder. “And now, you’re gonna—what—?!”
The man hadn’t at all expected Ryder to head-on charge at him as soon as Chelsea was out of the picture. Nobody had expected Ryder to just charge the man pointing a gun at him. Truth be told, Ryder wasn’t even really sure why he was doing it—but he was furious, and he wanted this man dead. Now.
“G-Get back!” the man shouted, firing off a shot that tore its way through Ryder’s side, dying his white t-shirt a bright crimson at the place where it ripped—but Ryder kept going, like a powerful locomotive moving down a set of tracks—he just kept going straight ahead. Ryder had always been known for his determination and strength of will on his baseball team—he was known as the one still playing with all he had, all the way up until the end of the last inning—whether they were winning or losing. And this—this here was the bottom of the ninth. No turning back now…!
Ryder tackled the man, bringing him down to the ground, and began attacking him with all of the energy that he had left. The two of them grappled across the floor, into the maze of desks—and this went on for a good few minutes. Ryder was gripping the wrist of the man’s gun hand, holding it back with the bursts of adrenaline that just kept coming, using his other hand to beat the man into a bloody, bruised mess. Ryder himself honestly wasn’t looking so good—he had gunshot wounds in two places, and was probably just as bloody and bruised as the man continued to brawl against him, as well. This continued for a while—until something caught Ryder’s eye, out of the corner of his vision. He had to end this.
He reached up to one of the desks, reaching inside it and pulling out a pen. He held it high up for just a moment, before bringing it sailing down, impaling it in the man’s neck. He twisted the pen in circles, widening the hole as more and more blood began to pour forth from the wound, dyed dark from the black ink seeping from the writing utensil.
“DON’T! SCREW! WITH! ME!” Ryder roared, punctuating each and every rotation of the pen, the hole only getting wider and wider. He was going to win! He was going to win this…! He kept doing his best to drive the man to his death—until he suddenly heard a gunshot. The man beneath him began to gurgle, blood pooling forth from his mouth—but Ryder was a bit more focused on the smoking gun that was now pointed at his chest. And as he looked down slowly…he indeed saw a big, bloody hole now adorning his front.
“…No…way…” he choked out—blood surging its way up and out of his own mouth as he fell sideways off the man, and down to the ground. The two pools of blood that were forming began to mix on the wooden floor as the two of them lay there—but in his quickly fading vision, Ryder could see that the man was dead. Good…
…Wait. His vision was…fading…? He…wasn’t dying…was he? No…there was no way…he wasn’t about to die…and leave everyone behind…
He could hear voices shouting—many of them calling his name, Wynn’s rising above the rest as a faded, blurred shout of,
“Somebody, call the ambulance! We need to get him to the doctors, c’mon! Hurry up! He’s bleeding out…!”
Bleeding out…great. What a stupid way to go…Ryder hated this…but, he was at least glad that he’d managed to protect everyone…
He turned over slightly, looking up and seeing people crowding around him, most notably his siblings, their faces tear-stained and wrought with despair.
“Man…guess I messed up…” Ryder said quietly, giving them a pained smile and not even really being sure if they heard him. “S…Sorry…about that…”
And then—everything went black.

When Ryder awoke—he found himself to be miraculously not dead. The only way he could tell was the massive pain that suddenly hit him as he awoke on one of the hospital cots at the small town clinic.
“Ow—shit—” was the articulate way that he expressed his discomfort, shifting on the bed until he was in a bit more of a comfortable position. He saw that his wounds had been bandaged…and he assumed that the bullets had been taken out…
“Hey! He’s awake!”
That…was Wynn’s voice. But the first two that he saw at his bedside were Chelsea and Kieran—and then his parents. Wynn was quick to follow, joining the crowd at the edges of the bed.
“You’re okay—!” Chelsea exclaimed, her face blooming into an expression of relief as she saw Ryder awake and breathing.
“W-We were really scared!” Kieran joined in. “You got so hurt and stuff…! Lots of boo-boos…”
“Ryder!” his mother cut in, her relieved, and yet horribly concerned voice not giving him a chance to reply to his siblings. “Wh-What you did was extremely foolish! Really! Y-You would just attack them just like that?! I-I—I was worried sick! D-Don’t you ever do that again, young man! …But…I…I’m so glad…that everyone is alright…” His mother put her face into her hands, letting out a long sigh. She seemed alright—she had just been worried sick. And Ryder wouldn’t expect anything less of her. She had always been a worrier, after all.
“Even if we were all really worried about you—you did a good job, son,” his father spoke then, a slight smile crossing the aged man’s face. “I’m proud. You saved your brother and sister, and all of the other students and teachers there.”
“Hey…c’mon…” Ryder said, his voice coming out quieter than he expected. “It wasn’t all me…I couldn’t’ve done it without Wynn…”
“You did most of the work, though!” Wynn piped up then, his face seeming…surprised that Ryder would even suggest that. “You were really, really cool! But—But I was really worried! But…everything turned out alright, huh? I sure am glad for that…”
“Is everyone else doing alright…?” Ryder asked, trying to glance around the infirmary to see if anyone else was there—unfortunately, his family and neighbor were making an impenetrable wall around his bed at the moment.
“You’re the only one who took any serious injuries, dear,” Ryder’s mother replied, wiping away a few stray tears that had persisted in her tired eyes. “You had us worried sick, yes…but like your father said, you did an amazing thing back there…j-just please…don’t be so reckless with your own life from now on, alright?”
“Yeah…sounds good,” Ryder did his best to nod, and then looked over as he saw Chelsea put a small, pink flower onto his bed, giving him a sweet smile.
“This is to make you feel better! It’s from our flower patch!” she announced proudly. That’s right…she and Kieran had been cultivating that tiny little patch of flowers outside of their house…it was amazing that much of anything could grow, but somehow, those little flowers were pulling through…
“Thanks, Chel,” he gave her a grin, lifting up his good arm to pat her on the head gently. “I bet that I’ll be feeling better in no time, now.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Mercy?” a voice called from across the room as the clinic’s nurse entered. “We’ve got your paperwork for your son ready, if you’d like to come fill it out, now.”
“Oh—yes, hold on just a moment!” Ryder’s mother called to the nurse, before looking at her eldest son again. “We’ll be right back, alright sweetie? Just give us a moment.” The two parents walked to the nurse, and began filling out the paperwork on the clipboard. Ryder sighed tiredly, letting himself sink back into the nice, comfy bed. Almost dying and all was a lot of work. More than he’d thought it would have been. Either way---he was glad he was alive. Completely, incredibly glad.
“So…” Wynn said after a moment. “…You don’t think that that might happen again, do you…? I mean…I found a hole in the wall…”
“Don’t worry,” Ryder said, looking to Wynn, Kieran, and Chelsea in turn, hoping to reassure all of them. “I…got a little bit of an idea for what we can do about that…just…let me rest for a little bit…but don’t worry. I know what we can do to keep everyone safe…nobody’s going to get hurt after this. I’ll make sure of it.”
They made a little more chit-chat after that—before the group decided to let Ryder sleep. He would need to rest in order to recover, after all. Once everyone had said their goodbyes, Ryder lay alone on the bed, twirling the small flower that Chelsea had gifted him with between his fingers. It was beauty like this that he wanted to preserve—he wanted to keep everyone healthy and happy. Not just his family, or his close friends—he’d seen all of those terrified faces in that classroom that day. And none of them—not a single one of those people—deserved to feel like that. This was a small town—a peaceful town—a town that needed protecting. And well—he had an idea. It would be a lot of work…and it would probably be awfully dangerous…but it needed to be done. The people of this community needed protecting—and he was going to be sure that all of the people there were safe and happy. Whether people joined him or not—he was going to do it. He was stubborn, he knew—and he wasn’t going to be swayed on this. Times were changing—and he knew that he would have to change, too. And so…this idea was the tiny bud that would someday grow into vines that would wrap around the community…tying Ryder into a fate that would soon bring him into the most terrifying, wonderful, horrific, and yet beautiful times of his life. This was it—now was the time.

No-Landers…that sounded like a fine name. Yeah—that would do just fine. They’d start as soon as he got better—he’d look for people to join, and…well, they’d go from there. They could improvise—he didn’t really know what he was doing—but he did know one thing: The people in this town were going to be safe. And if anyone wanted to hurt them…it would be over his still, dead body. And that was a promise.

~Bravery Valentine~
Prologue #1

Orange light from the sunset just outside, sitting on the horizon, leaked in through the closed, dirty windows of the house that evening as the boy stood in his bedroom. He was right by the door—he even had his hand outstretched towards the door knob. So…why did it feel so hard to move all of a sudden…? It couldn’t be anything that was actually wrong with him…no…it must be something else…
Was he…scared…? No, no—he couldn’t be. There was no way, right…? Superheroes didn’t get scared, after all…they were never scared…they were brave…He had to be brave, like a superhero…even if he wasn’t one…
He’d already gotten encouragement from his friends…now all he had to do was just…leave his room…and go through with it.
Slowly—painfully slowly—Bravery’s hand closed down over the door knob, and he turned it. The metal was cold—it was the middle of winter, after all. He moved the door outwards, then stepping into the carpeted hallway.
Wow—it really was cold today. He pulled his quilt closer around his shoulders—he loved this thing. His mother had made it, and it was really warm and cozy…it always almost felt like a hug, and that helped comfort him…even if just a little bit.
He could hear the TV from the other room—apparently it was an old sports broadcast from years ago. Bravery knew that his father had probably watched this one a hundred times—but might not even remember half of it.
It wasn’t until the bluenette stepped quietly out into the living room that he came across the forest of beer bottles littering the floor—all having been emptied, but never picked up. The room reeked of alcohol and dirt. Then again…so did the rest of the house. Maybe he’d just gotten used to it.
The large man sitting in the arm chair in front of the TV didn’t even notice Bravery as he walked in. Bravery turned to face him, frowning, and wondering how he was even related to this man…but still…he had to do this….he had to fix things…
“…Dad?”
No response. Not even a twitch of the head. It was as if he’d never even spoken at all.
“…Dad, I know you can hear me…can you please just listen for a minute…?”
Still nothing. Nothing at all.
Bravery was beginning to think that maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he could try again tomorrow. Or the next day. Or next week. Or next year.
Or never.
No, no…he had to be brave…just like his name said…!
“Dad!” Bravery called, raising his voice a bit, trying to catch his father’s attention, but still not getting any response. “I need to talk to you! Can you just listen for one second…?!” At still getting no response, Bravery huffed slightly, before pausing for a moment. Then, he moved forward, stepping through the sea of empty bottles, over to the TV—and pulling out the plug from the wall. The screen went black, and Bravery looked to his father—only to be met with a bleak-eyed glare. He couldn’t help but recoil a bit. The man was still holding a half-full beer bottle, his grip on it suddenly white-knuckled at the irritation that had just entered his obviously alcohol-hindered mind.
“…Oh. Um—” Bravery faltered a bit. Now that he had his father’s attention—he didn’t even know what to say. He had to get through this somehow, though… “…Hi.”
“…What do you want, kid?” the reply he finally got was harsh, the words sharp and cutting. When was the last time that Bravery’s father had even called him by his name…?
“I…I just thought…that maybe we could…talk for a while…? I...kind of need to talk to you about something…” This time, he got no verbal response. Only an expectant glare of sorts. “It’s just…I…I was thinking…” Bravery took a deep breath—he had no idea why he felt so shy all of a sudden—why his throat felt so tight, as if to block any and all words he tried to conjure up to speak with. “You…You’re always just sitting in here watching TV and drinking, and well…I…I was wondering…if maybe…we could spend some more time together?” His father raised an eyebrow judgingly, and Bravery hastily continued. “It’s just—you—you never really pay any attention to me, is all, and just—”
“Attention?” suddenly, Bravery’s father cut him off. “Attention? Is that what this is all about? You want attention? You think that you deserve attention?”
Well. This wasn’t going well.
“I mean…it’s just, you always ignore me, and—”
“You’re wasting my time,” Bravery was cut off again, as his father stood up, moving to try to plug the TV back in—but Bravery got in his way.
“S-Stop interrupting me! I’m being serious here!” Bravery said imploringly, eyebrows knitting together in distress as he spoke. “I’m not trying to waste your time or anything…! I just…I want to actually be able to feel at home in my own house…! I practically feel like a stranger here, and you say—what, two words to me in a year? This…I-I….I don’t want to live this way anymore…! I’m your son! S-So—start acting like you’re my father…!”
Bravery hardly even had time enough to react to move out of the way of the bottle of beer that was swiftly smashed against the wall where the top of his head had once been, the liquid spilling out onto the floor as Bravery stared at his father, wide-eyed. Maybe trying to talk to an angry drunk man hadn’t been the best idea. Maybe he should have put it off for a year or something after all.
“You sure have one big mouth, don’t you?” the man practically growled as he spoke, his face growing angrier by the second. “You think that you deserve just so much, don’t you…?! You do realize that you’re the reason that your mother is dead, right?! She always worked her ass off over you—and she worked herself to death! Literally! You exhausted the life out of her! And you think that you deserve to feel at home in her and my house?! You aren’t even my son! You belong to somebody else! I let you live here out of the goodness of my heart, and you just rub that gift in the dirt, you ungrateful little shit! Don’t you talk to me about deserving anything! If anyone deserves anything, it’s me—and that I deserve a break from whiny little brats like you!”
The man’s face was getting progressively redder as he continued to shout, working himself into a rage. Bravery had backed up against the wall, his eyes wide. He couldn’t be brave in the face of this. There…was just no way…no way at all…
“I…I want Mom back as much as you do…” Bravery spoke, his voice quiet, almost drowned out completely by his father’s roaring anger. He knew that this man was drunk. He wasn’t in his right mind. He had suspicions that Bravery wasn’t his child—but he was wrong. Bravery knew that this man was his father. But…right now…he seemed more like a wild animal… “I…I loved her, too, and—”
“Loved her?! You didn’t love her! You killed her!”
“No, I—”
“Shut UP!”
And before Bravery even had time to move, he felt the sharp glass of the broken beer bottle slicing across his face. He stood there for a moment—blinking, and feeling warmth pour down his face from the bridge of his nose, and on under his eyes, at where his cheeks began. Slowly, he reached a hand upwards, placing it upon the warm sensation—and pulled it back, only to see it dyed a deep crimson. He’d never seen this much blood in one place at one time before. It was…horrifying…
He took a moment to look up at his father again—the man’s shoulders were rising and falling as he took deep breaths, still channeling all of his anger, veins popping up on his forehead, his hands tensing and looking like they were ready to strike a second time…
And Bravery couldn’t do this anymore. He felt himself fall into panic—he ran around the man, over towards the door, completely forgetting to grab his shoes in his rush to just get out of that house. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes as he began to actually feel the pain in the slash on his face, now that the factor of surprise had gone. The pavement of the street was freezing—and only then did he realize that he had forgotten to wear his shoes. But he didn’t stop—he ran down the street as fast as his legs could carry him. The sunset was nearly gone behind the horizon, and the intense light from the slowly descending sun cast his shadow far out onto the street—the shadow ran along with him, ever so slowly fading away as the light from the sun soon enough disappeared, and the street lights flickered on. He didn’t even understand why he had to run. He knew he wasn’t being followed. So…why run? Why…? Why was it that he so badly needed to just get away from everything that he should have been able to hold dear in that house…? He didn’t understand…
Bravery’s feet were numb from the cold by the time he’d finally gotten to Rourke’s house. As he finally came to the front door, he stopped a moment to catch his breath, his breathing coming out in puffs of air as he bent over slightly to just stand there and breathe for a second.
Everything was cold. The winter chill was making its way up his limbs, down his spine—even with the quilt that his mother had so lovingly made for him draped over his shoulders still. After collecting himself just slightly, he straightened up, knocking on the door. He knew that Rourke’s parents were out for a few weeks…so he was pretty sure that Rourke and Lilia would be there…hopefully…
And sure enough, in a moment or so, the door opened, and Rourke stood in the doorway. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, Rourke’s eyes widening as he saw blood and tears running down Bravery’s face.
“Bravery, what—” Rourke started talking, then quickly stopped, shaking his head. “Just come inside, alright? I’ll take a look at that cut for you…” Bravery just nodded, unsure if he could even bare to speak right now without completely breaking down.
Rourke led Bravery inside the house, calling further inside,
“Lilia—we need the first aid kit, could you get it for me?”
“Did you hurt yourself?” a worried reply came from further in the house as a young, dark haired girl came jogging into the front room—only to go just as wide-eyed as Rourke had been when she saw Bravery. “Oh my gosh—just—hang on a second, okay? I’ll be right back!” As Lilia ran to the bathroom to get the first aid kit, Rourke brought Bravery over to the sofa and sat him down, his expression pressed into one of concern.
“…Can you tell me what happened…?” he asked, breaking the sudden silence that had fallen over the room. Bravery looked away—still unsure if he’d be able to manage to say anything. “…Was it your dad…?” To this, Bravery nodded—and Rourke sighed heavily, looking down to the floor for a moment. “Christ…he really did that?” Rourke asked, pointing to the wound on Bravery’s face before standing up. “You know…You can’t stay with that guy anymore. I’m calling my parents—they’ll do something about it.” Rourke stood—leaving the room to go to the phone just as Lilia re-entered, first aid kit in hand. She sat down next to Bravery, opening the first aid kit, then frowning in concentration as she began to clean the cut, wiping away all of the blood and tears.
“Man, that looks like it hurts…” she mumbled as she worked, making sure that it was nice and clean before she bandaged it up. Once it was all bandaged, Lilia thought for a moment, then closed the first aid kit and looked to Bravery. “I’ll get you some ice. Sit tight.” Lilia stood from the couch then, leaving the room. Bravery could hear Rourke talking on the phone, presumably to his parents, about the whole situation. Shifting slightly on the couch, Bravery looked out the side window—he could see his own house down the street, the windows simple dots of light in the blackness outside. The sun had set completely now. He sighed, pulling the red quilt closer around his shoulders as he sat there on the couch. He’d tried to be brave, for once in his life—and this was what he got for it. He’d looked up to so many brave, amazing people his entire life…all of the superheroes that he loved…But…he couldn’t do that…could he…? This would just end up happening again…
As he thought, he kind of just flopped down to his side, remaining quiet as he lay on the couch. Well…on the bright side…even though he was basically disowned and kicked out of his home…he was with friends now. Hopefully for a little while…because living in the town park didn’t sound too fun…
Soon enough, Bravery heard Rourke hang up the phone. There was the sound of a quiet conversation going on between Rourke and Lilia in the kitchen—then both of them came out into the living room.
“Here you go,” Lilia smiled at Bravery, sitting down on one side of him and offering him a bag of ice wrapped in a washcloth, and setting a mug of hot cocoa down onto the coffee table for him. Rourke sat on the other side of Bravery, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before speaking,
“You’re going to be staying with us, alright…? And our parents are going to be handling this whole thing as soon as they get back from their business trip. Don’t worry…you’re safe with us.”
Safe…being safe sounded nice…and Bravery knew that he felt more at home here than he’d ever felt back at his actual house…
Bravery placed the ice pack down onto his lap momentarily, then reached forward, picking up the mug of hot cocoa and taking a large sip from it before putting it down onto the table. He took a deep breath, composing himself. He looked to Rourke and Lilia in turn, then at last, spoke,
“Thanks, guys…I…I really owe you one…”

The wind was rushing past him fast—he could hear it whistling in his ears, and it was surprisingly cold, despite the fact that it was a blazingly hot summer day.
As he fell, he could hear somebody screaming his name from back up above…was that Mocha?
‘Sorry…’ he thought as he sailed downwards. ‘But I can’t…do this anymore…’ And right after that, he heard Bravery, shouting his name, too…he felt a strange sense of guilt for leaving his brother up there, but…he had pledged his loyalty to Vivian. He wasn’t about to leave her. Even with the sudden yelling and sobbing he heard up on the ledge far above…he felt…unafraid of his impending fate. Not having to see the ground coming at him was a plus. All he had to do was stare up at the sky…up until his back hit.
…The impact rattled his body, knocking the air out of him, and he felt himself…sinking? Wait…this wasn’t concrete…
Rourke blinked his eyes, confused as to where he was—and he saw water all around him. Quickly clamping his mouth shut as a surprised stream of bubbles escaped his nose, he looked around. Water?! Really…? Well, they were in the sewers, so it wasn’t totally surprising, but still—
Trying to right himself in the water, Rourke looked around…and as he looked down, he saw a figure slowly floating down deeper into the dark depths—leaving a thin crimson cloud behind them as they sank.
Vivian.
That single word flashed through Rourke’s mind as suddenly, his body began reacting on its own—instead of swimming upwards towards the light, he swam downwards, moving closer to the pale figure that was slowly descending, despite the protests of his straining lungs. It felt like an eternity until he reached her—as it turned out, she had already reached the bottom by the time, having gently been laid down onto the concrete. Rourke reached down, grabbing Vivian under her arms; as he looked upwards, the light of day looked farther away than ever, and his lungs were already screaming for air. But, he had already survived one near-death experience today—he was going to be sure that he survived another.
And he was going to be sure that Vivian would survive it, too. Lifting her up, he put his feet down onto the concrete floor, pushing off of it, and struggling upwards through the water. Vivian wasn’t even that heavy, but his body was fatigued enough as it was from the day’s events—making pulling her up difficult all the same. He kept pushing and pushing—the water beginning to feel like liquid stone, shoving him downwards—but at least, finally, be broke the surface. He gasped for air, coughing up water as he pulled Vivian’s head above water. She was unconscious—probably due to the combined blood loss and the force of hitting the water. He looked all around, his own wet hair partially blocking his vision, but eventually, he saw a the shore—a concrete path to the side. Still sputtering and struggling to stay afloat with both himself and Vivian at the surface, he managed to paddle over to the side, pulling Vivian up onto the shore first, and then himself. He didn’t even give himself a chance to catch his breath once he was on the shore. He turned straight to Vivian, He rolled her over onto her back, and checked her pulse at her neck, his mind racing. Could he still save her? She had a pulse…but the beat of it seemed strange. He knew that he had to treat her injuries—now. He moved, putting his ear to her chest—he could literally hear Vivian’s heart stuttering in its pumping—there was clearly a puncture in it or something. He was no doctor, but he could tell that much.
“Sorry about this…” he muttered hoarsely as he tore away her shirt from the knife wound—the knife was still embedded into her chest. He examined the wound for a moment, his expression grim. He wasn’t entirely sure how to treat this—all he knew is that if he just took the knife out, it would probably make it worse. He’d done crude operations on the field of war before…but never anything like this. Things like this were usually up to the field medics. He quickly went through his pockets, trying to see what he had that could possibly help. He had a lighter, and…not much else but pocket lint. Great. He placed the lighter down onto the concrete, then pulling his second knife out of is holster—seeing as how Vivian had borrowed his first one. If he wanted room to work here, he was going to need to make an incision of some kind…
He widened the cut in the skin slightly, being careful not to cut deep enough to hurt the organs at all. He cringed slightly at the sight—it sort of brought him back to when he had hated dissecting frogs in middle school. Except, this wasn’t a frog, this was a person—and Vivian wasn’t dead and preserved. She was very much alive, but wouldn’t be alive for much longer if he screwed this up. He was trying his best to keep from panicking, but answers weren’t coming easily. He didn’t have sutures—how was he going to close these wounds? How…
His eyes slowly glanced over, seeing the lighter laying on the ground. Quickly, he grabbed it with his free hand, opening it, and clicking the ignition repeatedly. It wasn’t lighting—it must have been waterlogged.
“Come on…come on…!” he urged the lighter on, but it still wouldn’t light. Rourke looked back at Vivian—he could see her life blood slowly dribbling out of her, and if he didn’t do something fast, it’d be too late. He looked back at the lighter, putting down the knife temporarily to hold the lighter with two hands as he continued to try to make it spark. “Light…light, damn you—!” And then, suddenly, the lighter lit up in flame. He stared at it for a moment, dumbfounded. It…It worked! Carefully shielding the flame with a hand, he turned back to Vivian. Taking a deep breath, he switched the lighter over to his other hand, placing his right hand onto the knife embedded into Vivian’s chest. He paused for just a split second—before cleanly pulling the knife out of the wound. Blood started spurting out—but he quickly tossed the knife off behind him, hearing it clatter on the concrete as he then quickly pinched the hole in Vivian’s heart shut with his thumb and forefinger. Luckily, the knife had just barely nicked it…the hole wasn’t big at all…
Knowing that there was only one way to close this hole, he brought the lit lighter up to the wound—not close enough to catch on fire—but close enough to burn. He could see the hole slowly being cauterized…He was so focused that he barely even cringed as the flame seared his fingers along with the hole in the heart. He waited for a moment, then once he saw that the hole was properly sealed, he quickly pulled away from the heart. Vivian’s ribs still looked to be in good shape…it seemed that she had stabbed the knife in at such an angle that it hadn’t harmed the bones. He looked over her insides for just another moment, making sure that nothing else was injured—then quickly closed her up, using the same cauterizing process to close the surface wound, as well. The fingers of his right hand were bright red and burning by the time that he had finished—but he wasn’t done yet. He moved yet again, putting his ear next to Vivian’s mouth and falling silent. …Her breath had stopped. He pulled back, placing a hand on her chest—he could still feel her heart beating…
“Don’t you die on me now…!” he said to her as he turned her onto her side, repositioning himself to do chest compressions, forcing the water out of her lungs. Once the water stopped coming, he turned her onto her other side, doing the same thing until the last drop of water came out. Gingerly returning Vivian to her back, he tentatively leaned in to listen again…and heard her breathing. He stayed there for a moment…then leaned back on his knees, sighing audibly. For a moment, he was so relieved, that he just didn’t want to move. He was so tired...
After a moment, he turned, sitting on the edge of the concrete shore, letting his legs dangle into the water. He took off his jacket, laying it on top of Vivian both to keep her warm, and to give her something to cover up with. After that, he reached down, soaking his aching, burned hand in the cool waters. They were disgusting waters, obviously dirty, yes…but they offered him some degree of relief.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, at the edge of the water, waiting, waiting…until Vivian finally stirred. He had the courtesy not to look at her as she got her bearings—since she was about to realize that he had had to rip up her shirt. But still, hearing her begin moving, as she took in a new breath of fresh air…a small smile crossed his face. They had escaped death again and again today—maybe them dying just wasn’t meant to be.
“Rourke…?” came the voice from beside him, sounding weak and tired. “What…happened…?”
That same voice made a wave of sheer relief wash over him. Vivian was alive…they were both alive…somehow…
“How are you feeling…?” he asked, looking to her and seeing that she had taken the message, and put on his jacket, buttoning it up. It looked big on her—but it would work for now. He realized that his own voice was pretty hoarse from their close encounter with nearly drowning, so he cleared his throat, coughing a bit.
“My chest hurts…” she replied slowly, putting a hand to her chest carefully. Rourke wasn’t surprised at all—she had just had wounds cauterized, after all. “How…how am I alive? I remember jumping…”
“I said that I’d follow you anywhere, didn’t I?” Rourke gave her a gentle smile. “I couldn’t let you die on me that easily. We fell in the water, and well…I just patched you up a little bit. It was a pretty close call, though…” Vivian paused, seeming to be taking all of this information in. She looked down for a moment…then back up at Rourke.
“Th…Thank you…!” she said, and seemed to try to move a bit, but then flinched back, cringing slightly. “I-I’d hug you if it didn’t hurt to move…” Rourke knew that she was probably just as sore, if not more so, than he was, so that made perfect sense to him. Vivian gave him a tired smile…but then suddenly looked worried again as an idea dawned on her. “Th-They…they all don’t know that I survived, do they…? Are they going to follow us down here…?” Rourke looked up above, to where the ledge was so high above them, and listened…the sounds of distant crying still echoed…but the sounds were fading.
“I don’t think that they know…” he shook his head, looking to Vivian again. “Good thing, too…”
“Oh, thank goodness…so, we’re safe…” Vivian sighed, scooting over slightly to sit next to Rourke, moving carefully so not to aggravate her injuries. “…But…what about Arron? A-And Altair, and Di--…oh…oh, Diego…” She dropped her head into her hands as she remembered the untimely death of their good friend. Tears pricked at her eyes as she thought about it, and then began freely falling, as she cried quietly. Rourke hesitated for a moment, then put a sympathetic arm around Vivian’s shoulder, holding her close to comfort her as she cried.
It wasn’t clear how long they stayed like that…just sitting by the edge of the water. The water was so calm…and this far down, the sun didn’t seem as harsh as it had up above. Eventually, though, Vivian’s voice broke the silence, as she asked,
“What…do we do now…?”
Rourke glanced around the area…there was no clear way to climb up. It seemed that the only exit from the area was a large pipe, into which the concrete foot path they were sitting at the edge of led through.
“Well…we can’t stay here forever,” he said quietly, looking back to Vivian. “Do you think you’re ready to go…? There’s a tunnel over there…” Rourke pointed over at the tunnel, but as he did so, Vivian noticed how burnt his hand looked, and reached out, gingerly cradling the hand as she inspected it.
“H-How did this happen? Are you okay?” she asked, looking at him worriedly.
“Oh…i-it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he shook his head, gently pulling his hand away. “I’ll take a better look at it later. For now, we should probably get moving…” Rourke felt the true ache and soreness in his muscles as he finally got himself to stand up. He stretched his arms up high, trying to loosen himself up, before letting his arms drop again and taking a good breath, before looking back to Vivian again. “Here—I’ll carry you, alright? It’ll be easier on you.”
“O-Oh, no, I can walk!” Vivian said quickly, not wanting to put any more strain on Rourke than she already had that whole day.
“Trust me—after what I had to do to keep you alive after that fall, I don’t want you to risk straining yourself,” he gave her a sympathetic smile, though there was obvious concern in his voice. Without waiting for an answer, he turned and bent down, offering his back to her. “Here, hop on.”
“Um…b-but won’t I be heavy…?” she asked as she pulled herself up to her feet and looked at him in worry for a moment.
“Don’t you worry about that,” he turned his head slightly to look back at her, smiling. “I was in the armed forces, remember? I was trained to run miles carrying bags that were probably much heavier than you are. So I’ll be fine.”
“Well…if you say so…” she said, carefully climbing up onto his back. Rourke moved his arms back under her legs, holding her up on his back as he straightened up, then turned to face the tunnel.
“Comfortable back there?”
“Oh—I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
Rourke nodded to Vivian’s reply, smiling slightly. She really was light as a feather, compared to the kind of things he was used to carrying…
“Well—let’s see where this path takes us, then,” he said, as he began walking into the tunnel.
The tunnels of the sewer were dark, and musky. They smelled pretty bad, of course—and one could always hear the distant dripping of water, echoing off somewhere through the tunnels. As they walked, they would occasionally talk—but the day had been so exhausting, neither of them really knew what to talk about. They mostly remained quiet—trying to drown out their thoughts of their fallen comrades and old allies by thinking of other things.
They must have been going through the tunnels for hours. Every now and then, it would branch off—and Rourke would usually just take a random route. The sewers were a confusing place to be in…and for some reason, there wasn’t a single manhole in sight. The only light provided was from the dim, occasionally flickering, fluorescent lights that lined the walls.
As time went on, Rourke’s fatigued body actually began to feel the stress of carrying somebody. His legs and arms ached, and he would’ve liked nothing more than a break—but he knew that he had to keep going. They needed to find food, and clean water—soon.
Just as Rourke’s eyes were beginning to droop from exhaustion, Vivian suddenly spoke, pointing up ahead,
“Look! Down that way!”
Rourke looked up from where he had been looking mostly at the ground—and he saw a light at the end of the tunnel. It was an exit.
“A way out…” Rourke said, a smile spreading across his face. He was sure that Vivian was just as tired as he was—and both of them just wanted to get out of the sewers, and get back to their fellow members of Haven. As they neared the light, Vivian asked Rourke if she could walk—since she could tell that he was tired. He consented, carefully letting her down to the ground. The two of them walked together out of the exit, and then…stared.
The two of them took a few paces forward…and were astounded. As they looked up and behind them, they saw huge, massive walls…in front of them was another wall—one of dirt. Like they were in a moat.
“…Do you remember this being in the prison?” Rourke asked slowly, looking at Vivian.
“No…I don’t…” she replied in a quiet tone. The two of them stood there for a moment, processing the situation—before they both stepped forwards, towards the wall of dirt. Rourke got himself onto it, scaling the wall with some difficulty, using roots to help pull himself up to the top. And once he was up there—he just stopped.
“…Rourke? What do you see?” Vivian called to him. He looked back down at Vivian—and the look on his face was one of sheer awe.
“You’ve just got to see this,” he said to her quietly, then pulled himself up and on to the top of the wall. He then leaned back down, extending his uninjured hand to Vivian, and helping her scale the wall as well.
As Vivian reached the top of the wall, she saw what Rourke had been talking about. It was an expanse of sparse buildings…and the horizon didn’t have a wall on it. As she turned around, she could see the high walls of the prison behind them…but not in front.
“…You’re kidding…” she said, her voice full of amazement. “We…we got out…? We got out…!”
“We’re out…” Rourke stood, staring dumbfounded at the small town that rested on this side of the prison. As he scanned the area, he happened to notice a pay phone. “…Oh man. I—I need to give that a try.” Vivian stood up to join Rourke as he walked over to the pay phone. Praying to whatever gods there were out there, he checked the change slot…and lo and behold, there were two quarters in there. “Success!” He grinned, taking the change out of the slot, then inserting it into the pay-slot. The coins weren’t spit right back out, so—was the phone working. He lifted the receiver to his ear—and heard a dial tone. The phone was working. He looked back at Vivian, unable to help but smile at her. They were out…they were finally out…! And now…
He thought for a while…trying to remember the number…but finally, he punched the keys, getting the number in. The phone on the other end rang three times before it was picked up, and a voice spoke from the other end of the line,
“Hello…?”
“Aurelia? Is that you?” Rourke asked, looking out over the expanse of the town, as if he could somehow see all the way to wherever his friend was.
“Yes, this is Aurelia…um…who is this?” the woman on the other end of the phone asked, seeming a bit nervous.
“It’s Rourke.”
There was a long, long pause—something clattered on the other end of the line, like the woman had been so shocked that she had dropped the phone—but she quickly picked it up again.
“Rourke?! Is that really you?!” Aurelia asked incredulously into the phone, so loud that probably Vivian could hear her, too. “B-But weren’t you in jail? What happened?”
“I found a way out…God knows how.”
“Really? Oh my gosh…you did? Is—Is Bravery with you, too?”
“I…do have somebody with me. But it’s not Bravery. Her name’s Vivian, and well—both of us need to find our families here. Is Lilia—“ Rourke was cut off, as the phone warned him that he was running out of time. “N-Nevermind, the phone here’s running out of minutes…listen, we’re…” he paused for a moment, observing the sun setting straight ahead of them, the sunset blazing on the pale gray horizon. “…We’re on the western side of the prison. Just outside it. We might move a bit away to not gather suspicion…How far from No Man’s Land are you, Aurelia?”
“At least a few days away, by car…” Aurelia answered, sighing slightly. “B-But, I’ll get the jeep going! And I’ll come find you guys, and pick you up! Do you think that you could manage for at least a day or two until I get there?”
“Hm…yeah, I think we can manage,” Rourke replied, nodding, even though he knew that Aurelia couldn’t see him. “We’ll find an old building to hide out in…and we’ll scrounge up something to eat and drink somehow.”
“Alright—I’ll get the jeep packed up and start coming over there right away!” Aurelia exclaimed, sounding like she was standing up on her end. “Just hang tight until I get there, okay Rourke? I’ll fill you in on what’s been going on once I get there. Make sure you stay safe, okay?!”
“We will. Don’t you worry—we’ll be seeing you here, alright?”
“Alright—I’m so excited to see you again, Rourke! Make sure you keep safe! Alright—I’m gonna go get the jeep ready! I’ll—I’ll see you once I get there!”
“We’ll be waiting,” Rourke smiled faintly. “See you then.”
“Okay—see you then!”
As he heard Aurelia hang up the phone, Rourke put the receiver back onto the hook of the pay phone. He paused for a moment, then turned to look at Vivian, smiling.
“So, guess what?” he asked her.
“What?” she replied, looking at him curiously.
“…It looks like we’re going to be able to have that picnic after all.”

After Vivian and Rourke escaped, Vivian went to get treated for her heart trauma. It was a long and painful process, many sleepless nights and hardships. However, Rourke didn’t leave her side. He stayed at the hospital as long as he could, going home occasionally. One night, Vivian was asleep, and Rourke was there, when the door opened. It was Gumshoe, looking terribly sad. The green haired man stood up, looking at the detective.
“Who are you?” he asked, a little defensive. The man let out a long sigh.
“My name is Dick Gumshoe…I have a message for Vivian Orderly…are you her friend?” he asked. Rourke looked at Vivian, who was sleeping, and then nodded.
“Yeah…I am…what’s up?” he asked. Gumshoe shook his head, and let out another sigh.
“I…came here…urgh…” the man looked like he himself had been crying. “Well…while abroad…Miles Edgeworth was killed…in an explosion…” he looked at Vivian. “Mr. Edgeworth was…her fiancée…”
Rourke’s eyes widened at the news, and he looked at Vivian. It took him a bit to take it all in. How in the world was he gonna tell her that!? Her fiancée was dead…the person she held onto…was dead? Rourke shook his head, starting to pace.
“I…I see…” he said, avoiding eye contact. “I…I’ll tell her…you can go…” he said, sitting back down, looking at the floor. Gumshoe nodded, and went to the door.
“I’ll…be back with details on…burial and will reading…” he said, and left the room. Then silence.
Rourke just…sat there, trying to contemplate how he was going to tell Vivian this horrid news. How could he tell her? How could he help ease this pain? He didn’t know. But he was the only one who could do it…only him. Soon, he heard Vivian stir, and start to wake up. She opened her eyes, and looked at Rourke.
“Rourke?” she asked, sitting up. “What’s the matter?” Rourke looked at her, tears in his own eyes. He walked over to her, and embraced her tightly. Vivian was confused.
“What’s wrong?”
“I am here for you Vivian…you know that…”
“O-of course…what-“
“He’s gone…”
“W-who is gone?” her body started to quiver. Rourke wasn’t going to let go.
“Miles was killed abroad…I’m so sorry…”
Vivian gasped, and then her body started shaking more. She returned Rourke hug, and didn’t say a word. She understood what he was doing. There were no words…only tears and crying.

A few months later, Vivian was out of the hospital, and the funeral had just ended. They had found his body, and though he was dead, he still seemed so strong…untouchable. Vivian cried the whole time, wearing a black dress and veil. Rourke also attended, holding Vivian’s hand the entire time. Pes, Edgeworth’s dog, never left Vivian’s side either. It was a small ceremony, but it was full of tears and emotions. Vivian hugged Rourke tightly, pressing her face into his chest.
“Please…I don’t want to be alone…” she wept. “I’m so scared…please don’t leave me too…” Rourke held her tightly, rubbing her back a little.
“I won’t…I promise…” he whispered back, closing his eyes, letting her let everything out. Soon, they had to return to the church for the will reading.  

More time passed, a few more months. Vivian was living as a roommate with Rourke. She didn’t want to be alone, and though Miles left her a good bit of money, she refused to do anything with it. Pes was sleeping at the foot of her bed as she sat there…crying. Rourke knocked on the door, making Pes lift his head up.
“Vivian? Can I come in?” he asked from the other side.
“Yeah…” Vivian mumbled, not bothering to move. Rourke walked in with a plate, a piece of pizza on it. He put on the Vivian’s dresser, and sat down on her bed. Pes got up, aiming to get some for himself.
“No Pes…that’s for Vivian…go on!” he said, directing him to the other end of the room. Pes didn’t really listen, and was sniffing the pizza. Rourke sighed and grabbed it before he had the chance, making the dog sit at his feet.
“Here…you should take it before Pes gets any ideas.” He said, handing the plate to her. Vivian uncurled, and took the plate.
“Thanks…” she mumbled, taking a bite. Rourke was silent for a bit, but then spoke.
“Vivian…I know you’re sad…and it’s hard to move on…but I’m…worried…ya know?” he started. “After work, you come in here and close the door and…do this…you curl up and don’t do anything. I’m worried…” he stopped short. He knew this was hard for her. “I…I’m just…worried about you…” Vivian swallowed some pizza and wiped her mouth with her hand.
“I know…I just…I…this happened so suddenly…and…I…I don’t know anymore.” Tears started welling up in her eyes. “First Diego…the others…and now…even Miles is dead…so many people have died because I’m me…I…I don’t know what to do with myself…besides hide…” she looked at him. “I don’t know how you put up with me…”
Rourke smiled. “Because I said I was gonna stick by you. No matter what.”
“I know…” Vivian looked at her pizza, tears falling on the paper plate. “And…look what’s that’s gotten you…”
“Out of prison…starting over…it’s gotten me quite a lot.” He put an arm around her. “Listen Vivian…I know it’s hard…I mean…I lost some of my friends during the war…their deaths were traumatizing, I watched them die…I know I’ve never lost a fiancée…but…I can understand what you’re going through…I know you need time, but you also need to know that there are people around you who will help you. I’ll help you, no matter what…and I know Pes will too.” He smiled at the dog, who was still looking at him expecting pizza. Vivian looked at Rourke, and smiled. She was still crying, but she put her head on his chest, and started to cry again. He held her for a long time, letting her cry on him. He didn’t say anything else. He knew that he got his message across. The crying lasted a good long time. Vivian looked at Rourke, wiping her eyes. Rourke looked back, and slowly leaned in. Their lips met, and both closed their eyes. Soon, the fast that Pes got Vivian’s pizza was the last thing in their minds. The kissing escalated, turning into passionate caressing with the kissing, laying on the bed in each others arms. Time got lost, and soon, both were sleeping. They didn’t go any further then the kissing, but at least this was a night not filled with tears, but love.
Vivian woke up the next morning, warmer then normal. She was still being held by Rourke. She smiled and cuddled up to him, waiting for him to awaken. However, there was something on her mind. After a bit, Rourke awoke, and looked at Vivian, who had a perplexed look on her face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her, still holding her.
“Am I…betraying him?” she asked, looking at Rourke.
“You mean…because we…”
“Yeah…”
“I don’t’ know.”
“I think…if we do…I think…I need more time…”
“I…” Rourke got silent for a second, looking the other way. Vivian looked back, cupping his face to look at her.
“What is it?” she asked softly, still feeling his breath on her neck.
“I…I know you need time…I agree…but…” he pulled her into a kiss again, holding her tightly. She kissed him back, and soon, they parted. There wasn’t any talking, just the sound of each other breathing.
“I love you Vivian…”
Vivian looked at Rourke, looking into his eyes. She knew him, she knew he only had the best intentions for her. She could see how gentle his eyes were, how gentle he was holding her. She cuddled next to him.
“Please don’t go…” she whispered, closing her eyes.
“I won’t…I promise…” he responded, closing his eyes now. They just lay there on the bed for a little while, enjoying the presence of each other.
“I…promise…when I’m ready…we can…be together…” Vivian said. Rourke just nodded, and kept holding her. They didn’t get up for a long time. Vivian eventually got up, having to feed Pes and Rourke had to work. Vivian went back to her room, closed the door, and went to her bed. She smiled, feeling her lips for a second, and then laid down.

More time passed…

Rourke came home to the apartment, only to have Pes greeting him. He barked, he jumped on him. Rourke chuckled and pet Pes, scratching his head a bit roughly, but in a playful way.
“Oh, how’s my good boy?” he asked the dog. “He’s a good boy right?” he chuckled and walked in, Pes as happy as could be. “Vivian? I’m home. Are you here?” he asked, not hearing her. He grew a little worried, seeing as she was nowhere to be seen or heard. He went upstairs and looked in their bedroom, but she wasn’t there. He looked in the living room, not there. He started to think maybe she went out, but then she came out from the balcony outside, holding a book in her arms. Her gave a large smile.
“Rourke!” she called, and ran over to him, putting the book on a side table, and gave him a hug. Rourke held the girl in her arms, and his hand traveled to her head as he pet her. Smiles were on both of their faces. “I missed you.” She said, holding him tightly.
“I missed you too.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Are you alright?”
“Y-yeah…”
“What’s the matter?”
“I just…I was writing today…I got a little emotional…”
Rourke chuckled. “Again?”
“Shut up!” she pushed away gently, but he held on, and started to laugh.
“I’m only kidding.” He said. “Was it about him?”
“Y-yeah…I was writing down all my good memories of him.”
“I see…” he kissed her again. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to know that the good times have not been forgotten.” He let her go. “Get your jacket hun, I have something for you.” He went to get something from his room.
“Huh? What do you mean?” Vivian asked, confused. Pes looked up, trotting over to the two of them.
“Get your coat. We’re going out. I have a surprise for you.” He said, smiling. He came back out with a picnic basket. Vivian looked at it and chuckled.
“I see…alright.” She said, and got her coat from her room. “Let’s go then…Pes, you be a good boy.” The dog barked and panted a little bit. He lay on his bed, curling up a little. Rourke waited for Vivian, and looked at the basket. They had promised to have a picnic, and he wanted to do it today. It kept getting postponed due to work and…the mourning…but today was a good day for one, just a little chilly. Vivian came back with her coat on, and smiled at Rourke.
“I’m ready.” She said, readjusting her purse. Rourke gave Vivian his arm, and let her take it.
“Good. Come on now, we’ve got a long day ahead of us.” He said, as they left the building, and got into the car. Rourke opened the door for Vivian, and then got in the car himself. As they started to drive, Rourke got quiet. Both of them scarcely said a word. Vivian was a little worried, thinking something was wrong. Had she said something bad? Maybe she did something wrong…did she forget his birthday?! She started to panic, but Rourke put a hand on her arm, and smiled at her.
“It’s okay.” He reassured her. “Don’t worry.”
“Did I offend you or something?” Rourke couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Of course not. I’m just enjoying the company.” He said. “We’ll be there soon, don’t worry.” He turned his attention back to driving, and Vivian nodded. The rest of the ride to the place was silent.

They arrived at a park as Rourke parked the car. Vivian was confused, seeing their destination. The parking lot was completely barren. Why were they the only ones there? Normally, the park would be full of people…but not today.
“We’re here.” He said, and got out of the car. Vivian unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car.
“Here? Their isn’t a game, is there? For school sports?” she asked. She wasn’t the biggest fan of sports, so she wasn’t sure about this. Rourke shook his head.
“Nope…it’s all about us today. Come on.” He smiled and took her hand, leading her into the place. Vivian was still a little on edge, but took Rourke’s arm, and they walked. They found a spot by a lake, and Rourke set everything up. Vivian was stunned, since when they normally went on picnics she would make everything, but not this time.
“You really went all the way on this didn’t you?” Vivian asked, taking a seat on the blanket. Rourke blushed and rubbed the back of his head, sitting next to her.
“Well I uh…I…wanted to make this special…ya know? Since you’re special to me.” He leaned over and kissed Vivian on the cheek. Vivian blushed, letting out a breath, feeling a little flustered. Rourke started to unpack the basket, and even pulled out a bottle of wine. He uncorked it, and poured a glass for the both of them.
“Cheers.” He said, clanging his glass hers. Vivian chuckled.
“Cheers indeed…” they both took a sip, and the picnic continued. It was a wonderful time, the both of them talking about everything, both of them were having a fun time. Though the picnic wasn’t entirely as it was supposed to be, with Miles dead and all, it was still very…nice. Vivian was enjoying herself. This was the most fun she had in a long time. In No Man’s Land, she was living in constant fear. There was nothing good about that place. But…at least there was one thing…one thing that made it…okay, it didn’t make it worth it, but more tolerable. That was Rourke, and the friends she had made…in their memory. Arron, Altiar, Diego…Wynn and Tim…all of them were so…nice to her…so sweet. She missed them…but most likely, they were all watching her from above…she could feel it. She felt that maybe Rourke felt the same. But to him, all his family was alive. His brother, and then his sister. He had both of them. But now, he had something more to protect. He looked at Vivian, who was looking over the lake surface, lost in her thoughts as he was. She looked…enchanting. Maybe it was something with the light or the scenery…but she looked…beautiful. Very beautiful. Slowly, he put a hand on her shoulder, making her look at him.  
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked. Vivian nodded and smiled brightly back at Rourke.
“Yes, I am…this is very lovely.” She said. “Thanks for planning this…”
“Well…it’s not over yet.” He smiled, and gave her a letter. “Here…read this…I’ll be right back.” He got up. He walked away without another word. Rourke went to his car, and took out a two-way radio.
“Go.” He said, getting something from the glove compartment, and making his way back.
Meanwhile, Vivian was very confused, but slowly opened the letter to read it. It as Rourke’s handwriting, she could tell. She started to read.

~Vivian,
Well…I’m actually not good at this…writing…thing. I see you writing all the time recently, so I thought I would give it a shot. I wrote you a poem…and I’m really not good at this but…I tried…
There was a little space, and then it read.
Through the cold nights of death’s grasp, here you stood
Through the choking vines of despair, you persevered…
The hope you showed, the hearts you moved,
The lives you touched are all watching you.
I, a humble man, doesn’t deserve to be in such a presence…
And yet…despite all that…you accepted me.
Accepted him…the both of us.
And now…together as one…
We shall protect you. And keep the cold hands of hate away.
To warm you those cold nights…
To love you…always.
The poem stopped, but their was more to the letter. Vivian covered her mouth as she read, tears welling up in her eyes.
Vivian, you’ve made me feel like I’m worth something…I feel whole. You are like a light of hope, one I wish to protect with my life. I love you Vivian…
~Rourke
P.S Will you look up?

Vivian put the letter down, and wiped her tears. She felt something touch her shoulders, and turned to see Rourke. He motioned her to stand, and then stepped back. Vivian looked around a bit, but then looked up, only to gasp at the sight. A plane had gone by, and she didn’t notice. But the bigger thing were two people sky diving down, holding one end of a sign each.
That sign read,
“Will you Marry me Vivian Orderly?”

Vivian felt her body froze, and looked at Rourke, who was knelt on the ground, a small box opened. A ring was inside, nothing too extravagant, but simple and beautiful. Vivian was having trouble finding the right words, so she remained speechless.
“Well…?” Rourke asked, looking at her hopeful. “I’ve said what I needed to say…I just need your answer…” Vivian tried to collect herself. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Rourke couldn’t either, but he hid his shaking body well. Vivian took a second to really take a breath, and wiped her eyes.
“I…I mean…this is…” she tried saying something but the words were just not coming out. Finally, she composed herself for enough time to give a straight answer.
“How can I say no? Yes Rourke…I will!” she said. Rourke let out a large sigh, scared out of his mind this wasn’t going to go well. He chuckled in disbelief.
“I can’t believe this…” he said, getting up, and holding Vivian’s hands. He slipped the ring on her finger, and then held her tightly. Vivian started to cry, clinging onto him. Rourke started to cry as well, and held her in his arms, tightly.
“I love you…I told you I wouldn’t ever leave…this is my way of making sure of that…” he whispered to her. Soon, there was splashing as the skydivers plunged into the water. But Vivian and Rourke didn’t hear them. They were too distracted by each other. Rourke pulled Vivian into a kiss, once again, just letting the passion take over. Soon, a lot of clapping and applause was heard. The kiss broke as Vivian looked around, seeing a lot of people cheering and applauding.
“Where did these people come from?” she asked. Rourke blushed a little.
“I sort of bought private time here just for this. The park’s been closed for everyone except us for this moment.” He said, chuckling a bit. “Too much?” Vivian giggled and hugged him again.
“No…it’s okay.” She said, enjoying the embrace. They never wanted to let go of each other, just enjoying the company.
They never wanted to let go.

~Vincent Kerrigan~
Prologue #1

The air was hot--it wasn't only hot, it was humid. Even indoors, the heat snuck in through the cracks, beating down upon the people of the small town as evening drew near, the sun slowly setting over the horizon in a burst of citrus orange that bathed the town in light.
Vincent hated his seat at the table. It was positioned right where the setting sun from outside the window always shined right into his face, nearly blinding him with its radiance. Not only was that annoying--but it hurt. Light overcoming his sense of sight was never a good feeling--and yet, for some reason, he kept returning to this seat at his family's small table again and again. It was almost as if putting his eyes through this strain was routine. And for whatever reason, he never thought to break this routine. It just seemed so...natural.
"Vincent...would you like to say grace, honey?" the voice of his mother called Vincent's attention as it suddenly broke the silence. He looked over in her direction, then shook his head, looking down at the table. A long silence followed, in which Vincent didn't see the looks that his parents exchanged, before his father cleared his throat, speaking in his deep, gravelly voice,
"Father, we thank thee for this food, for health and strength, and all things good. May others all these blessings share, and hearts be grateful everywhere. Amen."
"Amen," the mother echoed.
"Amen..." Vincent then mumbled, knowing that he wouldn't be allowed to start his meal until he offered up at least that. He ate his food quickly, in silence--it was commonplace for his parents to tell him to slow down, but he never seemed to listen--only insisting that he was just a fast eater. He squinted his eyes against the setting sun as it continued to shine upon him--he hated it. Some days, he just wished that everything would go dark.
His mother had always insisted that it was God smiling down upon them--but Vincent was the kind of boy who never believed anything he couldn't see for himself. Even at the young age of twelve--he didn't want to believe in the God that the rest of the town seemed to so fervently follow. He didn't like the town's chapel, either--its white steeple reaching for the heavens--even though Vincent knew plenty well that it would never reach those clouds so high up above. The songs, the prayers, the sermons...he had never understood. Why look up to something that wasn't there? Why ask for help from someone that you couldn't reach out and touch? It all just seemed...awfully silly to him.
Vincent put down his silverware with a clatter, quickly moving to get out of his seat, before the sound of his father clearing his throat stopped him.
"Vincent," his father rumbled out in his deep voice. "I believe that you forgot something."
"...May I be excused?" the young boy asked after a moment of recognition, violet eyes sliding shut somewhat in displeasure.
"You may," his father replied, seeming satisfied. Vincent didn't need to be told twice--he was out of the room and running out the door before another word could be muttered. As he pushed the screen door open and moved himself out onto the porch, Vincent felt like the air itself was sweating with humidity. The entire town was sweltering under heat, even as the sun slowly sank below the horizon. He stood on the porch for a moment, breathing in the water-dense air, feeling it fill his lungs. Dusk and nighttime were his favorite times of day--no bright lights to bother--everything was dark and calm. And the fireflies...the fireflies were his favorite part. He slipped on his shoes, which were waiting there by the front door, then headed down the porch's steps, moving into the tall, swaying grass of the yard, the strands of foliage tickling against his lower legs. His mother had always told him not to wear shorts in the tall grass, for fear of ticks--but it was for just that reason that he always wanted to wear them. He had a rebellious streak that even he himself hadn't realized yet--one that drove him further and further away from his parents, and onto a path that he wasn't sure of. He knew that grass wasn't always easy to come by--his father had said so, pointing out their little town on a map of what used to be the United States, going on and on about how lucky they were, and how he should be more grateful--but Vincent was grateful. Not for anything that he found within the confines of any building in the town--but for the outdoors. The calls of the birds, the warmth of the sun, the fireflies lighting up the fields at night--that was what he treasured.
He walked through the swaying grass in the now-dim light, moving out into the fields that were behind the row of small houses. He paused for a moment, then sat down, letting the grass tickle at his face as he waited. He sat there in silence, his expression neutral, though a lingering excitement seemed to hide deep behind it. He waited there for a long time--until the sky darkened, and the lights came on within the houses--but that wasn't the light he was waiting for. As the fields became dark, he stood up, looking out over the grass, waiting, waiting, waiting...until he saw it. As the first tiny light appeared on top of one of the tall blades of grass, he smiled, his smile progressively becoming larger as hundreds of other small lights blinked on in the field. Fireflies...there were always so many fireflies...
Vincent walked forward through the grass, looking left and right at the glowing insects--they were practically making constellations across the grasses. Carefully, he stepped over to one of the bugs, gently cupping his hands around it and holding it in his fingers, giving a little laugh as it moved around, tickling his hand. Its light sent a soft glow from the palm of his hand--a glow that warmed Vincent to the core. It didn't matter if it was blazingly hot out and humid as all hell--this was the sort of thing that managed to warm him somewhere much more important--his heart. He admired the insect for a moment more--until suddenly, he heard a voice.
"Hey, Vincent!" came the call, and Vincent turned, seeing a group of boys his age jogging over towards him from the other side of the field. They had just come from the town--and they were carrying something. Vincent carefully deposited the firefly back onto its perch on the grass, then approached the other boys at a slow walk--he would have much preferred just having been left alone.
Upon closer inspection, Vincent saw that the object that the frontmost boy was carrying was tube-like in nature--and the grin on the boy's face only spelled trouble.
"Look! Look, look, we got a firework! We snuck it out of Ben's dad's workshop!" the boy said excitedly, holding up the firework in question for Vincent to see.
"...What are you gonna do with it...?" Vincent asked after a moment, looking at the boy questioningly.
"Well, light it up, of course! Our parents would never let us do this on our own, but hey--they won't even know!" came the reply. "We'll just set it off, then hide in the grass! Easy as that!"
"And don't ask how we're gonna light it--I brought matches," another one of the boys piped up, holding a small box and rattling it around to prove its contents. Vincent glanced back at the fireflies hovering around the field, a bit concerned for the poor insects in the face of this fire-powered contraption--then looked back to the group of boys.
"I don't know if this is such a good idea..." he muttered, only receiving jeers from his peers.
"C'mon, don't be a chicken, Vinny! Don't be a baby! C'mon!" This continued for quite a while, up until Vincent quickly snapped,
"Fine, fine! Just go ahead and do what you want! I don't care!"
"You gotta stay around to watch us light it, though, to prove you're not chicken," one of the boys in the group piped up, grinning mischievously.
"I can do that...that's easy enough..." Vincent mumbled, really wishing that he could get out of there right about now, but not wanting to have to endure any mockery from the other boys of the town.
"Atta boy, Vinny," the frontmost boy clapped him on the shoulder, grinning at him before moving a bit further into the field. "Now, let's find a place to set this thing up!"
The group moved out into the field, Vincent trailing behind, absentmindedly drawing his hands through the air, waving them to blow bits of wind at the fireflies, hoping to peacefully tell them that it would probably be wise to leave the field for now. He continued doing this up until the other boys called him over--and it became apparent that they had found a satisfactory place to set the firework on the ground. Two of the boys seemed to be pushing each other around, rough-housing as they decided who was to light the firework--until one of them snatched the box of matches, then stepped forward. The group of boys created a ring around the firework, staying far enough away where they wouldn't be right on top of it, but close enough to where Vincent didn't feel comfortable in the slightest. He shoved his hands into his shorts' pockets, trying to use the darkness that surrounded him to hide his discontent. The boy with the box of matches took a match, then began trying to strike it on the box--taking a few tries, but eventually getting it--the dancing flame on the match illuminated the boy's face, making him look quite like some kind of demon to Vincent from where he stood--it was unnerving. He had a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach--and he had no idea why. Slowly, the boy in the middle of the circle bent down, searching for the fuse on the firework--until a telltale stream of smoke indicated that the fuse had been lit. Vincent sighed as the other boys shouted to the one in the center to get away from it--that should have been obvious.
But what wasn't obvious was how the boy's foot, upon fleeing from the firework, happened to kick the base--causing it to kilter off to its side just as it fired. Vincent's eyes grew wide as his vision was suddenly flooded by a blinding rainbow of lights, the hauntingly high squeal of the explosive ringing in his ears as panic consumed him when the white hot temperature hit him square in the nose--and then, everything went dark.

As Vincent slowly pulled himself up out of the sea of unconsciousness that he'd been floating in...he could hear crying. A muffled sobbing. He felt himself on a bed...but it wasn't his own. It wasn't very comfortable...Slowly, he opened up his eyes...only to find that that didn't change a thing. He was still in pitch blackness. However, it did cause a reaction--because the crying seemed to intensify as a hand suddenly grabbed his.
"Vincent! Oh, thank you Lord, for sparing my son's life! Oh, Vincent, my baby boy--!" That was his mother. Was this her hand? Where was she...? Vincent felt that his mind was slow...he couldn't seem to process what was going on...His mother seemed to keep talking, though. "Vincent, can you hear me? Are you alright? Does it hurt?"
"He might still be out of it from the anesthesia, ma'am," came another voice--a man's voice. Not his father, but a man's voice all the same. It sounded familiar...had he perhaps heard it at church before...? He didn't want to have to think about this...thinking right now was too hard...
"...Mother...?" Vincent mumbled, his eyelids feeling heavy. Still, he forced them open, trying to catch some inkling of light. "Is it still night...? I can't see anything..."
"Oh, Vincent...! Oh, my poor baby...!" came the answer--which didn't help Vincent comprehend things any better. He laid there for a moment more, simply listening to his mother's sobs, unable to understand what was happening, and why he couldn't see a thing, even though he knew that his eyes were open.
"The fireflies..." he mumbled, his bleary mind drawing up one of its more recent memories. "I can't see the fireflies..." His voice went unanswered this time. He raised his other hand, bringing it up to his face, touching his own cheek, then letting his forefinger and middle finger hover over his right eye. He couldn't see them...not even an outline of them...only sheer, heavy blackness. "It's just..."

"So dark..."

Beatrice Miona
Bunny Mio
Part 3

Beatrice laid in the bed as the strange man came up to her. She looked at him with a glare, not at all wanting him near her. She couldn’t help but glare at him. The man smiled however, and sat down.
“Get up.” Beatrice said. “I don’t know who you are, and I want you gone. Get out now.” She said, turning to the other side. It was a little difficult to turn on account of not having an arm on that side. The man didn’t move.
“Miss Miona…I will leave but…if you could hear me out.” He said in a calm voice.
“I don’t want to hear you out. I want you to go.” She said back.
“I work for a talent agency…we wish to help you.” He started to talk.
“I TOLD YOU, I’M NOT DAMN INTERESTED!” she sat up, throwing a weak punch, which the man caught in his fist. Beatrice’s eyes widened, seeing how fast he moved.
“Now now. That’s no way to treat a guest, Ms. Miona. I only want to help. I can give you your arm and leg back you know.” Beatrice paused.
“You…you can?” she asked. “How? They were destroyed in the bomb! Shut up! DON’T MAKE PROMISES YOU CAN’T KEEP!” she yelled. The man clenched down on the fist he was hold. “Ah…that hurts! NUR-“ and then he put his hand over her mouth, to muffle her screams. “!!” this could only be bad. Beatrice tried to struggle, but he was too strong.
“Listen to me…I can give you your life back. I will, but only if you decide you want to work with me.” She looked at the man. “And if you don’t…you’ll be done…you won’t be able to get a job this handicapped, you’ll be relying on others for the rest of your life, you’ll be wasting away. It would be a waste if you didn’t come with me Beatrice. But I will walk away. I’m not afraid to…” he said, letting go of her mouth and getting up. “Well then…what are you going to do?” he asked. Beatrice was shaking, trying to compose herself. But he was right. She felt backed into a corner.
“I…It doesn’t matter…I’ll join…the handicapped Olympics or something.” She said. “I don’t…”
“And what about your parents?” Beatrice’s eyes widened. Suddenly, memories started to flow back.
“What about-“
“I mean your real parents Beatrice…the ones that treated you like shit…Harriet, Lola…and then your Father.” Beatrice’s eyes widened and she stumbled out of the bed, starting to throw shit.
“GET OUT! GET OUT!” she yelled. “GET OUT OF HERE YOUR FREA-“ before she could throw anything else, he grabbed her hand. “AH!”
“I’ll tell them…what you did…” Beatrice gasped.
“You…you wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh…I think I would…the police are always looking to lock up criminals…even if they are cute girls like you. You murdered your Father, though for good cause, it’s still a crime. The police won’t be leient on you…and you don’t have anyone to protect you…but I can…” the man smiled at her.
“You…you’re black mailing me…” she said.
“That’s such an ugly word Beatrice…I’m just trying to help. You don’t have anywhere else to run to…all your exits are blocked….you’ve got one choice…come with me.” Beatrice heard a knock at the door.
“Miss Miona! What’s going on? Are you okay?” she asked. Beatrice was shaking, on the floor, with this man on top of her.
“I…I’m fine…I had a…episode…” she said back. “You…you just…go away…for another minute…” her voice was shakey. She just wanted to not be caught now.
“Alright dear…I’ll be back in fifteen minutes dear.” She said, and her walking off was heard. The man smiled.
“I thought you’d see it my way.”
“I hate everything about you, you scum.”
“Buuuuut…”
“I don’t have a choice…fine…I accept…” the man clapped his hands.
“Excellent!”
“But…on three conditions…”
“Did we just not go over the whole, you not having a choice, thing.”
“If you do this…I’ll be loyal…I’ll obey whatever rules your agency has…I’ll do whatever training you need me to do…anything.” She said. This piqued the man’s interest. He liked loyalty.
“I’m listening…” he said, helping Beatrice back onto the bed, and sitting down himself.
“First…” Beatrice started. “Just who the hell are you?”
“My name is Marcus Pragel. I’m with…well…I guess since you said you’d be loyal…I run an assassin league.” Breatrice’s eyes widened.
“W-wha…” she froze. Assassins? They were…killers. He was a killer…oh god…what did she just do?
“Now now…I’m not here to kill you…I’m here to give you a job…my league takes in people…takes care of them…and then gives them a job. We are hired by several other countries or even important political figures to take out targets. No innocents are killed in the crossfire, and we have a very high success rate. Now then…when I release you, you will come with me…and we’ll get you fixed up, and training will start…and it’s not going to be easy…” Marcus smiled. “Now…those other two conditions?” Beatrice shook her head. She couldn’t believe this. She was tricked…
“U-uhhh…” she was trying to collect herself. “I…I…I want a grave for Harriet and Lola Miona…and my own…” she said. “I want us all to be dead.” Marcus nodded.
“I can do that. The bodies won’t be there, because of…well…you know, it’s been nearly ten years and their bodies have been under investigation…I’ll see what I can do…but why for you? You’re not dead.”
“I want to be.” She said
“Beg your pardon?” Marcus asked.
“I want my record wiped clean. Beatrice Miona needs to die…and I’ll come with you under a different name. Please…let me do this.”
“This requires you to fake your own death…you realize this right?” Beatrice nodded.
“I know…I want to…”
“I see…I think I have a plan to do this…” Marcus grinned. He loved faking deaths.

~15 Minutes Later~

“Ms. Miona…I’m coming in.” the nurse called, and she walked in. Beatrice lay very still on the bed, as if dead. The nurse looked at Beatrice’s IV, and her eyes widened.
“No…OH NO!” she yelled, and ran over. “The medication was wrong…and she overdosed! DOCTOR!” Beatrice lay there, and then opened one eye.
“Marcus…looks like it worked…I think you wanna give me that drug…” Marcus crawled out from under the table.
“Here darlin.” He gave her some pills. “Take these…you’ll be out like a light…leave the rest to me.” He said. Beatrice nodded, and took them. Soon, a huge wave of darkness overtook her, and…
Beatrice Miona died that night…due to an overdose.

~2 Hours Later~

Beatrice awoke in a bag, looking around. It smelled awful, and she was freezing. She struggled a little, but she couldn’t escape.
“Come on…” she thought to herself, and then heard her draw getting pulled. She pretended to be dead again, as the bag was unzipped.
“It’s my darlin.” Marcus’ voice said, and Beatrice opened her eyes.
“Oh thank god…” she coughed and sat up. “This place smelled awful…” she said. Marcus helped her out and gave her a place to sit.
“Morgues tend to not smell good cause of the dead people…alright here…let’s switch.” He put in a different body, one with Beatrice’s almost exact likeness. “Well then…Beatrice Miona is dead…what do we call you now, Ms…” he waited.
“Bunny Mio…”
“That’s pretty close to your previous name.” Marcus said.
“Well…a Mio family in Europe exists, I’ve looked when I was at home. I’ll be their extended cousin…put that in the birth certificate alright?”
“We’ll get to forging those documents after your surgery. It’s scheduled for this week by the way. It’s gonna take a bit of time to get home…” He picked her up.
“Let’s go…I’m tired of being a cripple.” Marcus nodded, and they left for his car. The ride was quiet, as Marcus didn’t bother to say anything, but he was listening to music on his phone. The new Bunny Mio was now on her way. She couldn’t believe what she did. She was so close to being buried six feet under. She really hoped she didn’t have to do something like that ever again. They drive was long, painstakingly. It took a day and a half from Shirley AR to Philadelphia PA. They’re wasn’t much talking, and with one Hotel room and a few trips to McDonalds, they made it. Marcus went and parked in the Temple University college building, or at least one of them, and unbuckled.
“We’re here.” He said. “Home sweet home!” he said. He got out and Bunny looked up.
“This…is a normal college campus…I even see students walking around. This isn’t an assassin league! You-!”
“Ahh, it’s but a ruse my dear…all those college kids walking about…those are assassins on their down time…” he smiled, and picked her up.
“But…they look normal…” she said, looking at them.
“Exactly…come on…” he carried her through the green and toward the main building. Several students got up and waved at him and Bunny. One student with long blue hair came up.
“Mister Pragel sir!”
“Ah, Kain. I’m a little busy, can we talk later.”
“Y-yeah…” he looked at Bunny and was confused. “Is she new?”
“Piss off.” Bunny said. Marcus laughed.
“That’s right. We’re getting her into surgery.”
“Oh…sorry…we’ll talk later then…”
“How about tea later. Maybe Bunny here will come.” Marcus said. The boy smiled.
“Okay! It’s nice to meet you Bunny.” Kain said.
“Whatever…let’s go…” she said. Marcus chuckled.
“Miss Personality. She’s just cranky. Come on Bunny.” He said. They walked into the building and it looked way different on the inside then it outside. It was kind of high-tech, while the outside was still made of stone. Soon, they were in a surgery room. Bunny was dressed in a smock already, so she was put on a table.
“Alright then…” Marcus said. “This is going to take a bit of time…but don’t worry darlin. You’ll be asleep the entire time.” he said. Bunny nodded.
“This is gonna hurt isn’t it?” she asked.
“Just a bit. Don’t worry. Physical therapy will be follow this.” He said, “Alright then. Put her under.” He said. The surgeons put a mask over her face, and suddenly, Bunny felt tired. She fell asleep, and the surgery began.

~Hours Later~

Bunny felt heavy. She felt very heavy. She awoke, a mask over her mouth and plugged into an IV. She looked around, seeing she was completely covered in a blanket.
“Uhhh…I feel like I’m going to throw up…" she muttered, and looked at her arm. It was previously missing, but she touched it...something was there. She carefully moved the covers, and there was an arm. A metal arm. She couldn't move it, but she was there.
"You're awake..." a male voice said. It was Marcus He walked in and sat down. "I kept my promise Bunny darlin...you've got an arm and a leg. I always keep my promises." Bunny kept touching it. She could feel herself touching it.
"Yeah...you did...what's next?" she asked.
"A boatload of physical therapy...then training...but first, you need to rest and recover your strength. You've been through quite a lot the last few days darlin." he smiled.
"Stop calling me that."
"No."
"God you're weird...but...I know I'm committed now..." she paused for a long time. "...thanks...for these..." she slowly turned and fell asleep.
"My pleasure darlin...always will be..." he kissed the girl on the cheek, and left the room.