#mwriting

Your short little maid dress was ripped, thanks to some handsy patrons, and your feet were aching from being crammed in heels since the Cafe opened. Not to mention how cold it was, and how dreadful the walk back to the orphanage had been.

You knew that taking the bus would be faster, but you couldn’t afford to spend even a dollar on something so frivolous. You’d take all the bus trips in the world, you told yourself, but only after you paid your debt for the week, and bought everyone gifts for the holidays.

To make matters worse, you were propositioned on the walk home. The sun was only just setting in the sky, but that didn’t stop a lanky man in a red convertible from pulling over beside you as you walked. He honked his horn and yelled for you to get in, telling you he’d make it worth your while if you could show him a good time. By the time you managed to stammer out that you weren’t selling, the man was livid.

He followed you for a solid minute, his convertible moving at a crawl so he could shout abuse at you, calling you a cock-tease, screaming at you that you were asking for it, parading around in such a short little dress.

You didn’t let your tears fall until after he had peeled off, not wanting to let the bastard see how much the words hurt. If life were easier, you wouldn’t have to wear shit like this just to make enough tips to scrape by.

By the time you reached your block, you didn’t have any more tears left to cry.

As you walked closer to the orphanage, you noticed someone leaning up against the side of the building. A lit cigarette dangling from their fingers was all it took for you to realize who it was.

“Where the fuck’ve you been?”

“W-Whitney? I was working.” Whitney says nothing, blowing smoke into your face instead of responding. After a few beats, you begin to wring your hands together. “...Have you been waiting long?”

“I’ve seen you hanging ‘round that freak in the library.” She interjects, taking a few fast steps towards you.

“Sydney?” You stumble back, tottering on your heels, but you refuse to take a step away from her. She’d only see that as a sign of weakness. “She’s my friend.”

“I don’t fucking care. She wasn’t at school today. And neither were you.” Whitney stares down at you, so close that you have to stare up at her to make eye contact. For a horrifying moment, you think she might put her cigarette out on your face. She had used your arms before, singeing you through your school shirts back before you started dating.

But she doesn’t. She flicks the butt away, letting it sizzle out onto the snowy pavement.

“So you better be real sure you were at work and not fucking around with that freak.”

“Sydney's an initiate at the temple, like me. We pray together and hang out at school, but that’s all.” You avert your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips. This was the last thing you needed after the shit-storm that was today.

You hated having to miss your classes, and you hated the detention that followed even more. But some days you simply can’t afford to go to class, especially with the holidays coming up.

You had to cut costs everywhere, even if that meant cutting down the time you spent not earning money. Going to school didn’t cost you anything, but it took up precious hours you could spend working.

If you worked hard during the day, you wouldn’t have to resort to walking the streets at night. Hell, you’d drop out of school completely if it meant you wouldn’t have to start selling yourself like Bailey expected you to do.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s all you do together. Look at how you’re fucking dressed.” Whitney sneers, looking you up and down. “What, is the little church mouse into roleplay? Does she like it when you dress like a pretty maid for her?”

You shake your head in defeat. “I can’t do this tonight.”

You try to walk past her, but she blocks the way. Whitney's taller than you by at least a foot and broader than you could ever even dream of being. Usually, the size difference between you two makes your heart race and your thighs clench, but right now it’s only an irritation.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Something inside you snaps, the exhaustion from the day is still there but the surge of anger you feel is enough to give you one last book of energy.

“I’m tired, Whitney!” You’ve never yelled at her before, never expected to. And judging by the way she freezes up, she hadn’t either. Pushing past your initial shock, you continue. “I’ve been working all day, getting leered and pawed at by customers and having to face it all with a smile because I need the money! Everything hurts, I’m tired, and I just want to go to bed!”

“The fuck?” Her face contorts into a snarl as she roughly grabs you by your waist. “You’re my bitch, and I don’t fucking remember giving you permission to whore yourself out.”

“I don’t have the luxury of being yours!” You yell, face red and hot despite the frosty temperature. You try to pull away from her, but she tightens her grip. “I… I’m not even making enough to scrape by as it is, and Bailey keeps raising my debt and-” Your voice cracks. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

It’s only then that your exhaustion comes back, hitting you at full force. You let out a sigh, shoulders slumping and eyes shutting. It’s taking every ounce of willpower to not melt into sobs. So much for being out of tears.

“Fucking idiot.” She grumbles, tugging you forward and making you stumble. Your arms move up to brace against her as your head bumps into her chest. She’s warm, despite the snowflakes floating around her, and you know if you let yourself relax, you’ll fall asleep right here and now. “Should’ve told me.”

“It wouldn’t change anything.” You murmur into the fabric of her shirt, fingers curling around it.

“How many times do I gotta tell you you’re mine before it sticks in that stupid head of yours.”

You don’t know how much you believe her. Sure, she didn’t let other people hurt you anymore, but you doubted her protective streak came from the kindness of her own heart. She probably just didn’t want anyone else’s sloppy seconds. But even if Whitney’s view of love was warped, she cared for you. And God knows you care for her as well.

A coldness settles over you, but you push it away by snuggling deeper into Whitney’s chest.

“I’m real tired, Whitney.” Your chest shudders as she pulls you closer to her, her grip so tight it could bruise. “I’m running out of ways to make money without…”

“Shut up.” She gives your hair a reprimanding tug, cutting you off. “No slut of mine is gonna be working the streets. Just let me take care of it, yeah?”

“Whit-”

“I didn’t ask for your permission, so keep your mouth shut. I take care of whats mine, you hear?”

Q: What art program do you use? A: I use Clip Studio Paint EX for my main art/animation, and mspaint for my smaller pixelly doodles! Q: What brushes do you use? A: I genuinely barely use any super unique brushes. Currently I use this brush for my lines, though!

What did, unfortunately, concern him was the ferrying to and fro of the diplomatic team on what was supposed to be his day off. Normally Wei Wuxian left operations such as the transporter to his second in command or one of his many competent underlings. However, as the diplomatic group was filled with fancy peacocks in their flouncy feathery diplomat garb and their delicate terror of all things involving space travel, Wei Wuxian was required to be the one to personally beam them down to the planet (because god forbid one of his baby juniors got their dirty little hands on the apparatus they worked with on a daily basis and accidentally caused the first case of splinching-via-transporter to ever have occurred). As a rule, Wei Wuxian wanted to spend as little time in a room with Jin Guangshan as physically possible. But then, his second in command was a woman and he wasn’t going to subject her to the awful man, so he had little choice but to show up to the transporter and try to block out the oily quality that oozed from the man’s mind like puss from an boil. Ah, the joys of being psionic.

As Wei Wuxian was also expected to beam the landing team back from the planet, he stayed in the transporter room, terrorising his minions by pulling out the wiring on the consoles and trying to “break it, sir, you are trying to break it” improve the functionality of the thing. Eventually Lan Wangji turned up and towed him away by the arm, no doubt alerted by one of Wei Wuxian’s traitorous underlings. They always told the First Officer on him, knowing that he, Jiang Yanli, and Wen Qing were the only ones who could get Wei Wuxian to stop when he was in the middle of something (the crew never bothered Jiang Yanli because they liked her too much, and they never bothered Wen Qing because you went to the Chief Medical Officer if you were injured or dying and for no other reason - she was a doctor, dammit, not a babysitter). Jiang Cheng could also get him to stop, but not voluntarily, and usually while resorting to violence. After the third time one of them had shoved the other in a Jeffries tube and blocked the entrance, the crew was banned from asking either of them to involve the other in anything. 

Anyway, the point was that Wei Wuxian was very busy and so had absolutely no idea what was occurring on the planet until the ship was put under a yellow alert and he was asked to beam the landing party up as quickly as was physically possible (which, Wei Wuxian would like to point out, could have been considerably faster had he been allowed to finish tinkering with the control panel).

The group which had arrived back bore little resemblance to the well-dressed and put together team which had left not three hours previous. The most notable difference was Jin Guangshan, who had been alive upon departure and who was now dead.

“Oh no.” said Wei Wuxian in a very convincing tone of concern. “Whatever could have happened?” “Not now, Wei Wuxian.” snapped Jiang Cheng, who for some reason had been included on this mission, as he helped Jiang Yanli support a clearly shaken Jin Zixuan out of the room. “Such a tragedy.” Wei Wuxian said sadly, shaking his head, and could have sworn he heard a quiet snort from his left, but when he turned to the First Officer beside him, Lan Wangji’s face was as expressionless as ever. “I have prepared the briefing room as you asked, Captain.” he said in that unmodulated tone of his.  “Thank you, Wangji.” said Lan Xichen with a strained smile. “Let us proceed there immediately.”

It had been decided, Lan Xichen explained, that the away crew would beam back up to the ship along with the surviving diplomats for the time being as a matter of safety and precaution. Meng Yao, Lan Xichen had insisted, was a valued member of their crew, and would be questioned, but not held without any evidence. Meng Yao himself seemed remarkably unbothered by the whole situation, but in that way which meant you were merely holding the threads of your being together until you could arrive at a solitary location and completely lose your shit in peace. Wei Wuxian could tell, because the waves Meng Yao’s mind were pushing out were not his normal calm ripples. Meng Yao was another one of those few people Wei Wuxian actively found hard to read (which was, honestly, a bit of a blessing - even if he found it difficult to connect with the man as a result, at least he got some peace). He thought Meng Yao might spend a lot of time actively shielding his mind from psionic interference - it seemed like the kind of thing the paranoid bastard would do, but it might also have something to do with his mixed Human and Orion heritage. Just now, however, Wei Wuxian could tell that he was genuinely perturbed by the situation, despite what his calm mask indicated to the rest of the world.

When they arrived at the briefing room the rest of the away team had already assembled, along with the other heads of departments excluding Wen Qing, who Wei Wuxian knew would have gone to see to any potential injuries amongst the diplomats. Lan Xichen first ushered Meng Yao into the small auxiliary room used by the Captain for discussions which were better not heard by multiple ears, and Lan Wangji followed. As neither seemed to notice (or have a problem with) Wei Wuxian following them, he decided to take that as a tacit invitation to be present for the conversation. And what an enjoyable conversation to witness it was, where Lan Xichen had to sit Meng Yao down and be like “Did you murder your father”, to which Meng Yao replied “No, I would never jeopardise my position at Starfleet by murdering my father, he’s not worth it”, which was not quite the “No, I’d never murder someone in cold blood or generally hold designs of patricide” Lan Xichen was looking for. But then he did have a surprisingly pacifist and optimistic outlook on life, particularly considering he was raised by the same man who helped form Lan Wangji - pacifist and optimistic were not words one would use to describe the First Officer.

However, it was enough to look into other avenues. There were, after all, plenty of people who had wanted Jin Guangshan dead, and as far as Wei Wuxian could tell Meng Yao wasn’t lying. Lying, or even bending the truth, often produced a very specific mind-taste which was rather unpleasant. Another reason to be glad Jin Guangshan was no longer among them, considering the frequency with which the man did it. 

The four officers joined those waiting in the briefing room to hear a full account of the events. Many of the assembled crew members seemed energised or on edge or both. Nie Huaisang seemed particularly concerned, although what Wei Wuxian was sensing from him was more low-level enjoyment of the chaos. Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, had just wanted a prolonged 12 hour nap on what should have been his day off. The briefing went on for a full two hours before they broke up to attend to other tasks arising from the situation - luckily for Wei Wuxian, this did not involve anything to do with smoothing the ruffled feathers of the diplomatic party.

A sharp gust of wind whipped her hair around her face, and she drew her jacket tighter around her, suppressing a shiver. "I miss my coat," she murmured.

Raffe turned up the collar of his coat against the cold air. "It shouldn't be far anymore. Let's hope that whatever awaits us, it'll at least be warm."

A couple of hours had passed since they had changed their outfits. They probably would've gotten to Azabu Boulevard faster, but when they had strolled past a large household supply store, they hadn't passed up on the opportunity to get some knives. Since they were out of cash money and didn't want to risk being tracked through paying online, Penryn had put her pickpocketing skills to use and slipped two wicked-looking steak knives into the waistband of her pants. She was more used to doing these things at night, when the shops were closed, but it turned out that it was almost easier at day. All it took was a corner of the shop that the surveillance cameras didn't cover, and Raffe to distract the vendor with an easy smile and charming words, and they'd been the proud new owners of two high-quality German steak knives. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but with Raffe as a distraction, her chances of getting caught by a young saleswoman were a lot lower. In fact, she doubted that the woman had even noticed her presence while she had enthusiastically answered every of Raffe's questions with pink cheeks.

Now, Penryn threw her partner in crime a sidelong glance as he walked next to her. His face was set in stone, unbetraying of any emotion. "What do you think awaits us?"

He shrugged, not looking at her. "I should ask you. You're the expert for illegal weapon trade."

Penryn didn't respond for a moment. She mulled over her next words, trying to find a way to relieve herself of the question that was burning in the back of her mind without giving away too much. "What happens when you get your weapon back?" she finally asked.

She caught Raffe throwing her a look. "You mean what happens when you've fulfilled your end of the bargain?"

She nodded.

"Well, the deal was your help for my information, right? So I'll access the internal Guardian databases for you and see if I can find out something about your sister's whereabouts."

And then? She almost said the words. Almost. But there was no use in asking. There was no then for them. From the very beginning of their very unusual partnership, it had been clear to both of them that this arrangement would be temporary. And sooner or later, whatever weird thing they'd built up between the two of them would come to an end.

Penryn let her eyes travel idly over the tasteful façade lining the street. She wondered what it would be like to go back to being enemies after all this was over. Whether she liked it or not, in the past few weeks she had grown accustomed to this Guardian at her side, and it frightened her how easily she'd fallen into a routine of trusting him to have her back in crisis. What would happen if she was caught by a patrol during a raid one day and he'd be among them? Would he shoot her without hesitation?

Of course he would. The rational part of her almost scoffed at her line of thinking. If she wasn't able to form temporary partnerships without turning into a dewy-eyed amateur, she wouldn't survive another week in the Southern District.

"There!" Raffe's voice interrupted her train of thoughts. He pointed to a street sign on the corner to their left. "Azabu Boulevard. We're there."

He stopped just before they rounded the corner and faced her. "So, is this where we'll meet the client? Or another middle man?"

"I don't know. All Kalif gave us was an address. And I still don't know why she did that in the first place."

A line formed between Raffe's eyebrows as he looked into the distance. "We could be walking right into a trap. In fact, we should be prepared for that to be the case."

"What sort of trap would that be? If Kalif wanted to catch us, why would she let us leave the 'House of Pleasure' at all? She could've easily captured us on her own territory."

Raffe's gaze met hers, his eyes thoughtful. "I don't know what kind of game is played here," he said. He sounded as if he wasn't happy about that. "But I will take back what's rightfully mine."

Penryn cocked her head. She wondered if that really was all there was to it. All this trouble for a gun? Surely, such a high-ranking Guardian would have the money to purchase a new weapon, no matter how advanced it was. Raffe took in her face with a slightly annoyed look as if he knew what she was thinking about.

"If this really is a trap, I don't think I'll be very useful to you with my injured leg. I can handle myself in a fight, but I can't run."

"Making sure that I don't abandon you?" A cynical tone had crept into his voice. "Don't worry. I won't leave you behind."

Penryn nodded. "I wouldn't have expected you to." She guessed this was the closest to admitting to having each other's backs as they could get. And for some reason unbeknownst to her, she believed him.

230 Azabu Boulevard turned out to be an old office building, it's glass and chrome front hiding the abandoned rooms behind. A sign on the front doors declared that the building had been confiscated by the government.

They pushed through the front doors and entered a dimly-lit entrance hall, dust corns dancing in the few rays of light that fell through the boarded-up windows. The place seemed completely empty. Penryn coughed against the dusty air. "I sure hope we don't have to search every floor. This building has like 20 levels. And I doubt the elevator is working."

Raffe ignored her and crossed the hall to a glass door that lead to a stairway. "Come on," he called to her over his shoulder.

The stairway was completely dark, the only source of light coming from above their heads, roughly five floors up. Penryn and Raffe exchanged a look. "We'll probably have to go there," Penryn whispered.

"You think?"

She rolled her eyes and moved to go up the stairs, but Raffe caught her arm and pulled her wordlessly behind him. He silently moved up the stairs, Penryn trailing closely behind him. The silence and darkness created an eerie atmosphere and she found herself quickening her steps to stay close to him. The last thing she wanted was loosing him in the dark and ending up all on her own in this building.

They reached the sixth floor, where warm light fell through a window in a door, illuminating the stairway. Raffe stopped on the last step and peered through the window. "I can't see anyone," he murmured after a few moments.

"Do we just go in?"

He shrugged. "I don't see any alternative." He pulled out the steak knife from the waist band of his pants and pushed through the door, Penryn following suit. She looked around. They were standing in a nondescript hallway, several closed doors leading to what was probably office rooms. Raffe slowly walked down the hallway, trying each door knob as they passed it. The doors were all locked. Penryn repressed the impulse to speak up. The silence was pushing down on her. Yet, she didn't think it was smart to announce their presence if anyone was waiting for them.

Raffe stopped in front of her, holding out a hand. He looked back at her and nodded toward a set of double doors a few feet away from them. Judging by the look on his face, he'd heard something. He moved toward the door, and Penryn was yet again astounded by his agility and stealth. She was a pretty small girl, with fleet feet and the ability to move unheard and unseen if she wanted to, but it was impressive that a guy who must've been at least 6'6 feet tall was able to move just as silently as her. Or maybe it wasn't that impressive after all, considering his military training.

They stopped in front of the doors and Raffe put his ear against the wood, listening intently. When he didn't seem to hear anything, he cracked open the door an inch. No light fell through the slit. He opened the door far enough to peer into the room, then fully pushed it open, revealing an empty conference room. Penryn followed him into the room, leaving the door open to hear if anyone was approaching. The room was large and mostly empty, safe for a few chairs that had been pushed against the wall. Penryn suspected that the main space of the room had once been taken up by a large table, but now all that remained of the furniture was a bar at the far end, a few bottles and glasses lined up. She was surprised by how clean and dust-free they looked. Before she had time to inspect them, the overhead lights suddenly turned on, harsh against her eyes after being in the half-dark for so long. Penryn reflexively closed her eyes, but forced herself to open them again.

A man stood in the doorway, wearing an immaculate dress uniform, his light brown hair styled back neatly with gel. He appeared to be in his mid-forties and his entire posture seemed relaxed as he idly fixed the cuffs of his dress shirt. Judging from the look on his face, one could have almost mistaken him as benevolent. Almost.

Penryn hadn't expected to be greeted by someone who was an alley. What really scared her was the shiny emblem pinned to the chest of his uniform, just one amongst many, but the only one that she cared about. The one that identified him as a Guardian. And by the looks of it, a high-ranking one at that. Fear made her chest tighten. She could handle underground dealers. This she wasn't prepared for.

She snuck a glance of Raffe, to see if he knew the new arrival. His face portrayed grim surprise and his body had visibly tensed up. Yeah, they were in trouble.

"Raphael," the man said, making an elaborate sweep with his arms as if to welcome them. "I'd honestly expected you sooner. My men spotted you just three blogs away hours ago. But well, better late than never."

"What are you doing here, Uriel?" Raffe's voice was dangerously low.

Uriel's lips quirked. "Come on, you said yourself you should expect a trap."

"Consorting with underground dealers now? I shouldn't be surprised. Sounds like your style."

Uriel's smile broadened, though his eyes glinted with suppressed anger. "There's no need to consort with anyone, if you're in control of them. Do you really think I'd be stupid enough to make deals with any of that scum?"

"You're in control of Kalif?" Penryn said disbelievingly. "With all the power she holds? I doubt that."

His eyes slid to her, his mouth twisting into what looked like an expression of mild disgust, like someone who had to bother getting rid of a spider. "No, little waif, we're not in control of her. We are her. Kalif does not exist. She's a myth to give your people the illusion of having a shred of dignity, of autonomy left. It's pointless trying to halt underground businesses and black markets. Especially when you can simply draw a profit from it."

Penryn sucked in a breath. Immediately, something inside her wanted to deny what he'd said. That it had to be a lie. But why would it be? It made sense, if she thought about it. Controlling the hub of the city's underground activities, instead of trying to shut it down, was a pretty smart move. What she didn't understand was how they'd manage to establish all of Kalif's influence and power without anyone getting behind their little trick.

Before she could dwell on it further, Uriel turned back to Raffe. "I didn't come here to have conversation with an urchin. Raphael, I think we have business to attend to."

Raffe quirked an eyebrow. "Do we? I already suspected that you were behind the attack on me, but I don't see how there could be any business between us. Why not just kill me?"

Uriel made a dismissive gesture. "I don't want to kill you. What good would that do me? I had high hopes that you'd know about Gabriel's whereabouts, but apparently even his poster child isn't in on all of his moves."

"Gabriel? What's he to do with anything? I figured Beliel just wanted him to take revenge, but I doubt that that's your motivation. Or that you're concerned for Gabriel's well-beings. What could a politician like you possibly want with a geneticist?"

Uriel began to slowly walk around the room, like a teacher giving a lecture to a student. "Did you know that the ALT1 program was halted? In the middle of the procedures for an entire class of recruits. You know what happens when the procedures aren't completed. We could lose our best students of an entire year."

Raffe scoffed. "As if that's any of your concern. You have nothing to do with the program."

Uriel stopped and turned fully to them. "But I could. Who's to say that Gabriel is the only one able to perform the enhancements? He runs a monopoly on his methods, and made our entire military dependent on his person. Don't you think that's awfully egoistic? He's received all the power and praise for a scientific break-through that he should've shared with the rest of us a long time ago. Now he's gone and left the rest of us hanging. If someone else was to pick up what he started, it would be the best for our entire society."

Penryn didn't understand half of what he'd said. She glanced at Raffe, who was frowning. "So that's what you're up to? You want to replicate Gabriel's results to distinguish yourself?" He seemed to think for a moment. "I guess that could earn you your long-awaited seat in the Junta. But you're not a geneticist. What makes you think you can do it?"

"I'm not a geneticist, but I have a team of great scientists and enough money to fund the research. Because I'm willing to invest that for the good of our people."

Raffe snorted. "Right. And why exactly am I here now? I don't see how any of this has something to do with me."

Uriel pinned him with a look. "I expected you to be able to tell us about Gabriel's whereabouts, but your conversation with Beliel went different than I expected. Granted, he might have taken it a little too far. But I'm here to offer you a deal. You've always been the poster child for the program, and you excelled in every situation that has presented itself in your military career. Since we don't have many records to work from, I think that you could be of great help. After all, you've experienced the procedures first-hand. And think of it. Ultimately, it would be for the greater good if we'd be able to replicate Gabriel's results."

Raffe was silent for a moment. Then, his lips quirked up in a sardonic smile. "So, what you're telling me is that you originally planned to have Beliel torture me for information and then kill me, but since he was unable to do so, you're now trying to talk me into being your personal lab rat with this sad excuse of working for the greater good? I know we're not close, but you should know me better than this. I'm a soldier, not a pawn in your political play."

Uriel sighed. "I was afraid you'd see things like that. What would you say if I'd offer to personally restore your reputation and hand you back your gun, your emblems and your bike?"

"What would you say if I'd offer you to personally rearrange your face?"

Uriel shook his head, like a disappointed parent. "There's no need to be hostile." As on cue, half a dozen men appeared behind him, armed with rifles which were currently pointed at Raffe and Penryn. They swarmed into the room and formed a circle around them. Penryn recognized the one next to Uriel as Raffe's attacker, Beliel. She sucked in a trembling breath, fear tightening her lungs. There was no way they could get out of a situation like that. She had no doubt that Raffe was a skilled fighter, and she could handle herself in a fight as well, but this was six armed men against the two of them with a pair of steak knives. She closed her eyes and imagined the faces of her family. If she died now, what would become of Paige?

"What now?" Despite the half dozen guns pointed at them, Raffe sounded calm. "You'll kill us like the laughable cliché of a corrupted politician that you are?"

"No." Penryn was surprised by the determination in Uriel's voice. "As much as I'd like to have you out of my way, killing you wouldn't be a smart move. Sure, I'd probably find a way to cover up your death, but you're infamous among the military, and your death could cause a commotion. Not to mention an investigation that I don't have time for." He gave a lenient smile. "That's an awful lot of trouble for a deserter who's on the run from his own people. As popular as you are, you know the procedure with public enemies. And since you're known for your extraordinary skills, I'll have the best team to take care of the job."

Penryn looked at Raffe, who was glaring hatefully at Uriel. He grinded his teeth so hard that she could see the muscles twitch in his cheek. "You think my own men will buy that shit? They know me. They know I'd never desert."

"They're not in the position to question commands from higher-ups. Not to mention that they have no reason to think that we're lying to them. Plus, there is plenty of proof. We found your gun, the tracker removed, you left behind your bike, didn't contact us in days. There are several recordings of you consorting with known criminals of Jonum. And, I'm afraid, half a dozen witnesses that saw you flee when Beliel here-" he motioned to the mass of muscle next to him, "caught you in the Northern District and asked you to surrender." He looked at Raffe with an expression full of scorn. "As soon as you step outside this building, I will declare you an outlaw and the hunt will be on. It's your choice. Take your chances and try to get away, or refuse and die right now." He shrugged. "It's up to you."

Raffe looked around, assessing his opponents, and like Penryn, he seemed to come to the conclusion that there was no way they could win in a fight against six armed soldiers. He turned back to Uriel, his eyes full of disgust. "We'll see each other again," he said icily. "And the next time, I'll make you regret you ever crossed me."

Uriel pulled a cigar box out of the inside box of his jacket and took out a cigar. "We're done here. Beliel, escort our guests out. We don't want them to get lost." He put a cigar in between his teeth.

"What about the girl?" Beliel asked.

Uriel paused on his way to the door and turned, looking Penryn up and down. "Leave her alive, for all I care. She's just a street rat. If anything, her presence will back up our story of Raphael having turned his back on our society." With that, he walked out the door, his stance relaxed as if he'd just finished a business meeting.

The men behind them moved closer, until they were only an arm's length away, aiming their rifles directly at their backs. Beliel shot Raffe a nasty grin. "Come on, I'll show you outside."

For a moment, they remained frozen to the ground, neither of them sure what to do. Penryn was frantically trying to think of a way to turn the situation around, but the nudge of a barrel in her back quickly ended her musings. She stumbled forward, walking behind Raffe who was following Beliel out the door. He led them down the staircase, not speaking to them, just sneering at Raffe. It was only when they were in the entrance hall, that Beliel fully turned to them and spoke up. "Look at you, Raphael. All your elitist demeanor, they way you and the rest of your men looked down on us. As if you're naturally better than us." He scoffed. "What good does it do you now? You're nothing but a criminal anymore. And soon, anything that distinguishes you from the rest of us will be available to every soldier in the military. Nobody will talk about you anymore. You'll be remembered as nothing but a pathetic traitor."

Penryn knew it wasn't smart to speak up, but she couldn't take it anymore. She had listened the last half an hour, her hatred building up, and she couldn't keep it in any longer. "Who are you calling pathetic here? Do you even believe your own words?" She basically spitted out the words. "You call him a traitor, but you're nothing but a coward yourself."

Beliel turned to her, for the first time really looking at her. "Why you decided to pick up a street waif is beyond me. But you'd do good to get used to such company. Soon, a worthless thing like that is going to be the only company you'll have."

"I'm not worthless." Penryn hissed. She could feel Raffe tense up next to her.

Beliel actually grinned. "Well, aren't you a little spitfire?" He sauntered closer to her. Raffe pulled her behind him, but Beliel's grin only widened. "What, don't tell me you're playing hero? Move out of my way or my men will splatter your girl's brain over the wall." To enforce his words, the soldier behind Penryn pressed the barrel of his rifle against the back of her head. She froze in fear. Beliel walked around Raffe. Raffe looked at her, his face pale and taught, but couldn't move due to the predicament that she was in.

The pressure of the rifle disappeared from the back of her head, but it didn't comfort her much, because now Beliel was nudging up her chin with the barrel of his own weapon.

"Hmm," he hummed. "Aren't you a pretty little thing? Though you have a bit of a big mouth, don't you? Maybe that's why Raphael likes to keep you around." His eyes slid over her, and Penryn felt her skin crawl. He reached up and brushed the knuckles of his hand over her cheek. Despite herself, she flinched from his touch. "Are you afraid now, little pet?"

"Leave her alone," Raffe's voice was full of rage, so raw and dark that Beliel actually took a step back. He yanked up his rifle again and pointed it at Raffe. "Enough chitchat. It's time for the two of you to be on your way." The soldiers behind them shoved Penryn and Raffe toward the exit.

"I wish you the best of luck," Beliel said tauntingly. "If your men are as good as you always bragged, it shouldn't take long for them to find you."

Penryn looked at Raffe, who was giving Beliel a long, murderous glare. Beliel seemed to fidget under his hostile stare, but he waved his gun toward the front doors. "Last warning."

Raffe took Penryn by the arm and pulled her in front of him as they walked toward the exit, so that he was in between her and the soldiers behind them. If they were still in the Southern District, and dealing with Black Market merchants instead of armed soldiers, she'd never allow herself to look like she was dependent on someone else's protection. But they weren't in the Southern District anymore, and Penryn wasn't naïve enough to think that it would do her any good now to act tough. So she just walked out the front doors, Raffe close on her heels, even though every inch of her body wanted to refuse the orders of these Guardians. She pushed through the doors, for once welcoming the sting of the cold air against her face. She turned to Raffe, but he just tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her with him. "Come on," he said quietly. "We have to get out of here."

It seemed almost too trivial to just take a train to get to the outer edge of the city, but Penryn guessed that it was as good as any transportation they had now. Whether they took public transportation or travelled by foot, it shouldn't take very long for someone with access to the whole surveillance system to find them.

"I have to get out of the city." Raffe murmured. He'd rarely spoken since they left the building, and so Penryn turned away from the window, where she'd watched the city fly by, to him. "Out of the city?"

"At least for a while." Raffe's eyes looked far away. His face was a controlled mask, as hard to read as always, but Penryn was sure that she could see deep trouble in his eyes.

"There's nothing around the city for dozens of miles. Jonum City might be a huge, crowded place, but there sure isn't much else surrounding it."

He nodded. "Which is why it's a perfect place for me to stay low for a bit. Figure out what to do next." He turned to her. "You should do the same. Lie low, I mean. Don't attract attention and you have the best chances that they will just forget about you. You've heard Uriel. To them, you're just a citizen, whose word doesn't hold any power." His voice took on a sterner tone. "But don't take any risks. Make any big moves, and they won't hesitate to eliminate you."

Something inside her resisted at his words, pulled her insides together almost painfully. "What?" It was all that came out. She struggled for words for a moment, then quickly gathered her wits. "What do you mean, I should lie low? My sister is still missing, in case you've forgotten. I have to find her. What about our deal?" Her voice had risen during her speech, and another passenger in train cabin looked at them with mild interest.

Raffe clenched his jaw, his eyes swirling with emotions that she couldn't read. "Look, I know that we've had a deal. But they will have cut my access to the system by now. The only thing I can do now is trying to set things straight with my people. Once I do that, I will find out what I can about your sister's whereabouts and let you know it."

"She doesn't have that much time!" Penryn didn't care anymore who might overhear their conversation. Panic was seizing her, her only chance of finding out about Paige's fate slipping away in front of her eyes.

She almost flinched when Raffe suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders, but his grip wasn't painful. If anything, he steadied her. "Look at me." His voice held so much determination that she automatically did what he asked. Her eyes found his, and the intensity of his gaze made her still.

"You're better off without me now that a whole team of elite soldiers is on my heels. These are my men. I might have a chance of convincing them to listen to me before they shoot me. But they have no reason to hesitate shooting you on sight." His voice was quiet, but insistent.

"You're leaving?" She almost said me. She bit her tongue so hard that she could taste blood. God forbid those words ever left her mouth. Focus, she told herself.

Raffe didn't answer at first. He looked at her, his eyes slowly travelling over her face. His gaze lingered on her lips for a moment, but when he looked back up at her eyes, Penryn felt like she'd imagined it. So that didn't stop the warmth that spread out in her chest. She took a breath to root herself in the here and now.

"I'm going off at the next stop." He said. His voice was so low that it felt like he'd said something intimate and personal to her. She suppressed the urge to hold him back. What use was there? Like he'd said, there was little he could do to help her right now. So where was the point in staying together?

Raffe hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say something. "Good Luck," he finally said, giving her shoulders a squeeze. Then he let go and got up, grabbing his jacket from the seat. He didn't look back at her as he pulled it on and turned around, walking briskly toward the doors.

Penryn watched him, feeling like there was something she should say, but didn't know what. She watched as he disappeared through the exit, the doors closing behind him. Through the window, she saw his tall form cut through the crowd on the platform, dominantly moving through the tightly packed bodies. She followed him with her eyes until he descended down the stairs and she couldn't see him anymore. The train started picking up speed again, and only now did she realize that she didn't even know which stop to get out.

With a sigh, she slumped back in her seat. She felt empty. It wasn't like she'd really had a plan before, but now it felt like the last shred of hope had been taken away from her. She allowed herself one minute to close her eyes and let all her fears wash over her. Then, she took a deep breath and sat up straighter in her seat.

Her sister was still missing. She had to find out what had happened to her and help her. That was the only thing that mattered now. And wallowing in self-pity wouldn't do her any good.

She grabbed her jacket and threw a look at the train map on the wall in front of her. If Raffe couldn't access the Guardian data base for her, she'd have to find someone else to hack into it for her. And she knew someone who just maybe was able to help her with that.

She pulled on her jacket with a new surge of determination. It was time to find DeeDum again.