Frustrated, Charlé runs a hand through her hair, unintentionally undoing part of her braid. Her hair falls in waves, due to the braids, and Charlé wishes (not the first time) that she could unravel her braids. Unfortunately, she’s yet to find all of the pins securing the braids in place. She grumbles unhappily before bunching the long skirt into her hands again. She stares at the ends of the fabric, darkened by dirt and who knows what. The skirt is getting too heavy, and it is starting to rip. Charlé grins. She knows how to get rid of her bodyguards now.

Her heartbeat speeds up as she hears the footsteps again, much closer this time. Frantically, Charlé begins to pull at a small rip at the bottom of the skirt. She manages to get enough off so that the skirt is just below her knees. Charlé grins as she feels the cool night air surround knees. Checking her boots, she notices that they’ve also gotten muddy. Oh well, it’s a small price to pay for freedom. Charlé grabs each end of the cloth and rips it into two pieces, dropping one of them a few steps out to the right. She runs down the street, turning left at the intersection and drops off the second cloth.

Charlé can now hear the footsteps getting very close, and her breathing becomes quick and shallow. Glancing up, she notices that the building is an apartment complex. The windows are too high up for her to reach though, and there is a ledge surrounding the building nearly three feet below the window. Charlé looks around quickly for anything to use to pull herself up to the window. A smile grows once she spots a flag pole jutting out of the building.

Charlé prepares to jump, once again relieved that she’s ripped her dress (it’s made the dress much lighter!). Leaping off the ground, her fingers wrap around the flag pole firmly. Charlé swings herself up onto the ledge, carefully edging along the wall so that she is hidden by the shadows. She slowly breathes through her mouth so that her breathing will be silent.

“Milady, please go back to the mansion!”

“Lady Charlé, Head Maid Olivia is worried that you haven’t come home yet!”

“This isn’t the time for games! Show yourself!”

Charlé doesn’t move and keeps waiting. She hears one of the bodyguards find a piece of her torn dress. After some arguing, the group decides to continue down the street in search of any other clues that their “playful” lady has left for them. Once they’ve left, Charlé releases a long breath, chuckling lightly. She is glad that they think she’s a simple minded girl; they’ve completely eliminated the possibility that Lady Charlé of the Brun House can be intelligent. Seconds pass before Charlé decides it is safe to continue. She braces herself as she leaps off the ledge, bending her knees to help soften the impact as her feet slam into the ground. Smiling to herself, Charlé turns left and runs in the opposite direction of her idiotic bodyguards.

A wrought iron fence stands ten feet tall, surrounding the beautiful Lancelot Estate. The garden out front is green and flourishing, well maintained by the gardeners. Lord Lancelot will never stand for a disorderly garden. The streets are surrounded with automobiles, the chauffeurs waiting lazily inside. Running up to the fence, Charlé jumps off the ground, latching on to the bars. She pulls herself to the top, carefully swinging herself over. Just as one leg makes it over the fence, Charlé feels a tug. She looks to see what’s wrong and curses under her breath. The front of her dress has been snagged on the fence. Charlé decides to jump down anyway, wincing as she hears the expensive material rip loudly.

The fabric hinders her movements a bit, so she stumbles when she hits the ground. Standing up, a shiver suddenly goes through Charlé. She stares at the ripped fabric stuck on the fence; it is completely wrapped around the tips with no way of successfully removing it. Charlé sighs and looks down at her ruined dress. Her sleeves are intact, puffed at the shoulders and flare out at the elbow. The torso is also unharmed, thankfully, although the skirt shows multiple rips and stains. Unfortunately, most of the skirt in the front has been ripped off. Fortunately, there is enough remaining so that she isn’t completely indecent (although she isn’t exactly decent either).

Charlé smiles as she sprints to the Lancelot Mansion, relieved that she can now run unhindered by her long skirts. She spots a ladder propped up against the side of the mansion. Heading toward the ladder, Charlé hears a shout behind her. Glancing back, she spots a bodyguard pointing at the top of the fence, exactly where the remains of her skirt are hanging. She let out a groan of frustration; she didn’t think it’d take them that fast to figure out where she is!

Lifting the ladder, Charlé moves it under a lit window. If she still recalls correctly, she should be under the right window. Scrambling up the ladder rungs, Charlé reaches the window easily. She tries to lift the bottom with her fingers, but the window is locked tight. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Charlé rips off her dress sleeve to the elbow, revealing the strapped leather arm guard holding four black squares. Charlé takes the sleeve and rips it in two, wrapping the cloth around each hand. Using her left hand, she takes one of the black squares and presses it to the window, covering it with her clothed hand. A dim glow emits from the square and electricity crackles, shattering the glass. Charlé climbs through the window, picking up the square and placing it back in the arm guard.

“Charlé Brun, what the on earth did you do this time?” a voice nearly shrieks.

“Hi, Maria! How’s it going?” Charlé replies with a grin.

Maria Lancelot, Charlé’s best friend, stares at Charlé in disbelief. Her short red hair and burgundy dress are styled to perfection. She’s just walked out of her dressing room, and the first thing she sees is her best friend with a dress in ruins and hairstyle falling apart. Naturally, the only logical thing to do is ask what the hell is going on.

“You just broke into my home, you look like you got attacked by bears, and you’re asking me ‘how’s it going?’ ” Maria replies in a shrill voice. “What the hell did you do?”

Charlé stands up and laughs. Maria shakes her head, bringing a hand to her temple. Charlé walks over to Maria and places an arm around her shoulders.