Night Mist Series, Book One: Night Robin

- Chapter 1 -

No Different

Whoever first said that 'dead men tell no tales' never actually saw the dead. Or they never tried to read them in the least because for Drake the image's of the victims in his latest case practically wailed at him. Even when he wasn't looking at said pictures or at detailed descriptions of the crime scene as he was now. At first glance even Drake could see someone mistaking the orange tinted black text from the device he held in his hand as orderly news for the controlled masses. Who knew that such graphically horrific nightmares were belayed beneath the surface? Well, he did. Damn, did he ever. His thoughts numbed as his notes for the Trenson case scrawled further down on a translucent screen belonging to a small black cylinder device or the PriSn as the manufacturer deemed to call it. The details of the crime... having the other cases he knew these plain words failed to grasp the true horror of the murder. And that said a lot.

He sighed. Touching the thin screen of the PriSn viewer, he braced himself. Tried to build up those walls one needed in a profession like his before flipping the digital orange display to the newest victim in the case. Crimson, bruised flesh, and bowels swirled before his eyes and he cringed as he looked away, unable to stomach the sight. Even though he had known the ghastly graphic image was coming he couldn’t help the reaction. Or how the plastic, rubbery tasting artificial cheese burger he had for lunch threatened to resurface. That said a lot too, for in all his years serving in the government's military or as one of the city's few police detectives a number of years back, he had never seen anything as sick and depraved as this beast's victims.

     Drake touched the screen, forcing the orange display and the image of the dead girl to roll back up inside the device unable to study the case anymore. Oh, he had seen his fair share of death. Mangled corpses. Still smoking holes in their heads. Milky eyes swelling, threatening to burst. And that was on the good days where torture had not been involved. But this? Shaking his head, he rubbed his face as he set the device on his mother's ancient oak desk, a weathered object that had thin cracks in the laminate surface, spanning out like thin spider webs that finally crept down the left side. His old computer chair groaned in protest as he leaned back and allowed his thoughts to grow silent as he followed those thin cracks. A momentary relief from the nightmare contained in the PriSn, the new generation viewer that rested far too innocently on his desk for the dark evil it harbored.

     For months he had been working on this case. A low appointed case the government had thrown his way and for months he had spent every free hour he had with these victims. All children. All girls. This Trenson case was starting to haunt his sleep. Those terrified pallid faces. Bugged eyes. Gaping little mouths. He shivered as the images flashed in his head, almost hearing their last screams. Then there was the way the perpetrator took great lengths and obvious pleasures in keeping the girls alive while he cut into them. After physically assaulting them of course. No one had seen such horrendous murders since the early beginning of the Reconstruction Era over four hundred years ago. This was an old-school case. That was why they had tossed the case out into the private sector. He smirked bitterly to himself. That, and the police were too busy keeping order for the government to care about such minor things as a handful of dead working-class nobody's. Or rather, they were busy fighting a war with the cities to keep them under the Families rigid control.
     Shaking his head, he looked out the bullet-proof window to his left, out to the main-street. The sight was amazing really: how such a busy cramped street could be so... silent. Hundreds of thousands passed by this window every day, going to their jobs and then back home before sunset, walking like programmed droids. Damn, he saw more emotion from the dead girls in the Trenson case than these people. These mindless zombies who walked on piezoelectric sidewalks that generated their own energy when one stepped on them to light crosswalks and streetlamps. Even those in the electromagnetic cars that hummed by on similar piezoelectric streets stared out the front windshield with that empty shell look. They all stared out like dull husks that were already dead. What kind of life was that?
     Not much of one. And that was if he was honest with himself, he could easily brush it off like he had most of his life. A thought that depressed him like nothing else. He was fortunate that he had been born into the upper-cusp of this capitalistic society. Born literally with a silver spoon in his mouth. Or tube rather. You know, seeing as it was no longer popular to have children the ‘natural’ way with all those nasty side effects. Weight gain. Moodiness. Unsightly stretch marks. Weight gain... He grew up thinking the world was his. Had been sent to the best private school. Saw the ‘best’ of what the known universe had to offer. When attending that fancy private school he learned about how the old United States of America had been a democracy like the French Nations were now. Never had he wondered if there was more to their story and life. No, any rational questioning of this life swiftly got covered up by egotism and the self-righteousness his teachers fed him.

     He had believed wholeheartedly that the burden of this desolate life fell on the Families. It was their responsibility to guide humanity and see to the future. Up to him and the other children of the elite to enforce their rules that kept humanity living in what many considered a post-apocalyptic world. Without the systems they imposed everything would unravel and humans would go extinct. Or so they claimed, but he doubted the likelihood of that when humans were in Space, feeding resources back to the decaying Earth. Almost all of the Space settlements were sponsored by one Family or another.  He shook his head. A truer privatized society couldn't have been imagined by the forerunners who had first envisioned this greed driven life back when it was hiding under the skirts of democracy and liberty of old America. The system was revolting. How the upper five percent got every wish fulfilled while the rest lived in fear and suppression, and roughly seventy percent of those lived in the slums, starving, most times had neither clothes nor a home, and hundreds died daily because of these conditions.

     But watching these dead husks walking around now, he wondered... Why did I never notice this before? Had I really been so blind? So ignorant and naive to believe in the fantasy the elders spun for me? The time when the truth finally revealed itself to him wasn't until he joined the America Nations Military and they went to war with the French Nations. That the stark reality of all this had opened his eyes. Seeing the smaller nation and its people, still living true to their democracy had been startling. They had been so free... their emotion... There was a reason they were the last group of people to stand up against this Great Neo-America. They had something to fight for, something they believed in. That passion.  The passion like theirs had rattled something in him, woke him from the slumber he had been lulled into along with the rest of the ignorant populace of the America Nations.

     Of course the simple sight of these other peoples' lives hadn't completely given Drake the kick he had needed. Being sent home after nearly being blown to pieces and then working with the police and seeing the atrocities they committed all in the name of peace keeping had done that. Sighing, he glanced around the room. As he sat there, most if not all of his possessions were in this office or the small apartment upstairs. He was alone. Shunned by his own family, not only for these thoughts and views -that men should have more of an equal ground to stand on- but because of the job he took up in his quest to do something about it.

     The light cheery jingle of the chime that hung above the front door of his home/office startled him from his dismal thoughts and he glanced at the door-less entrance that went into the hallway (thanks to a disgruntle man Drake had arrested a few months ago -he really needed to get that fixed). Not but a few seconds later a woman stepped through the doorway. Dumbfounded, he blinked at her as he met her hazel eyes that were so much like his and yet at the same time weren't (seeing as hers glared out at the world constantly, giving a harsh, viper-like demeanor, where he'd liken his to a friendly puppy dog who wouldn't leave you alone as he licked you to death). He never thought he would see her again, especially here of all places. And yet here she was stinking up his place with that horrid flowery scent while wearing the latest fashion, an outfit that was straddling the line between a classy dress and a sort of business attire. The dress part was slinky, formfitting dark-gray and royal blue, silk-like material that stopped a good few inches above her knees. The business part was a matching, mostly dark-gray suit coat, complete with shoulder pads to make her short, slender body to appear more masculine and authoritative.

     Her gaze shifted around the room, frowning further as she took in his dinky office with off-white walls and bark-brown flooring made from recycled rubber (that Drake thought was remarkably as soft as carpet, amazing what technology could do these days). The flooring and room altogether was comfortable and practical, just as he liked everything in his life. But for someone like her this room would be far too plain, far too low-ranking. He didn't need to see her dirty-blond hair swept up in a fancy waterfall do, her small poised frame in those clothes, or even her high-class appearance to know she would think his place was beneath her.

     She walked further into the room with a confidence only one of the most elite (one from the Families) could possess, though the slight purse of her lips told him she would have rather turned and left him sitting there -return to the world she belonged in. Her eyes snapped to him, fell to the name plate on his desk, then back at him. A small hint of distaste colored her words as she finally spoke, "Drake, Drake Jones...? That is what you came up with after four years?"

     Getting over his shock, he rolled his eyes, but still straightened in his chair to look more professional. He swiftly relaxed a little, hating how the old training always kicked in at moments like this. "Yes, Rosaline. Do not act like you didn't know. What do you want?" He leaned over slightly, adjusting the name plate. He wasn't self-conscious, it was just that the plate was off-centered. Right...

     Her frown deepened as she glanced at the chair meant for clients. "Are you not going to offer me a seat?"

     He chuckled, forgoing all pleasantries and leaned back again as he folded his arms behind his head. "What, you are here to ask for my services? That's rich." She scowled at him as she started to sit anyways. "Though I'm surprised you're not making me get another chair so you don't have to sit where the lowly simpletons would."

    She had paused, a look of comprehension that he was right and repulsion passed on her face, only for her to shake her head with frustration. "I did not come here to fight with you... Drake." Hesitating, she looked out the window at the people passing by, wincing. "I did, however, come to ask for your help."

    "And for the next miracle the Families will nominate you for Presidency." He flashed her a taunting smirk as she glared at him. "Complete with those ridiculous shoulder pads of yours. Now, are you doing this on your own... or is the Family asking for my help?" He felt the stirrings with his words, the old anger bubbling under the surface. He had thought this ire gone. Guess he thought wrong. Folding his arms before him, he glowered back at her. "Why should I help the Family? What can some... Oh, how did you put it, Primmy?" She flinched at the old nickname. "Unassuming, washed-up plebeian detective who will amount to nothing, do for you or the Family?"

     She sighed, pulling from her breast pocket of her suit coat a tiny micro-chip. "You have connections with the underground Syndicates, right?"

     "No," he growled, knowing right then what she wanted and refused to reach for the chip she offered with her outstretched pampered hand and manicured nails. "They are sources I use to find killers, Prim. I will not betray any of them."

     It was her turn to roll her eyes before tossing the chip to the old oak desk. "Will you simply look at this?"  

     His brow knitted as he glanced from the chip to her. "Why should I?" She shrugged casually. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, "Okay, I'll bite. What is it?" As curiosity got the better of him, he reached for the chip and his portable PriSn viewer, the cylinder tube still before him on the desk.

     "Oh, only the footage of the Rydenhur main headquarters break-in two days ago..." she let her voice trail off.     

     "Hot-Damn! Really? A break-in? " Whoever this person is must have quite the brass pair... or is just crazy.   

      She flashed her perfect teeth when he hastily put the chip into the device, wanting to see who would be insane enough to hit a Family's main home. He glanced up as the screen rolled out and noticed the familiar glint in her hazel eyes. Minx already thinks she has me, he grumbled mentally to himself. She probably did, but he didn't like admitting that. While he knew every nerve to hit to annoy her to barren Outzones -places where no one in their right mind would inhabit- and back again, she knew every one of his to make him do what she wanted. Curiosity. It was going to get him killed one of these days...

.~-~.

 Robyn gazed down at the city far below. Silent... from the silvery tombstone skyscrapers that would shimmer in the sun if not for that black slithering smog that embraced and choked the city as it lovingly constricted. Suppressed... to the decaying and neglected shallow graves that were the slums, out of sight and out of mind, hidden in the tall yellowing grass. Dead... to her the seaport city was a plundered graveyard with rotting skeletons lingering on the scorched earth and floating in the harbor's green bubbling waters. And all one has to do is look up to see the vultures circling overhead to know they are thoroughly screwed. She smirked at the thought as her eyes continued to travel the city before her, taking it all in.

     There was nothing left really. No real character other than what the Families shaped. Stainless metals and flawless plastic, every inch covered in many types of holographic advertisement. She shook her head and her lips tugged down. This city really is dead, not that it had much of a life to begin with...

     Of course, there were no tombstones except for the holographic ones on the far eastern end of the metropolis where the real graveyard was located. Nor were there vultures circling overhead because they had long been extinct, together with countless other species due to the blunders of mankind. But there was nothing new about that. Humans have a talent for killing shit, she knew that better than almost anyone. With the thought lingering in her mind, she looked to the building across from her, watching as the holographs ran up the sides of it. No skeletons littered the ground either for that matter or the water (but it was green, and bubbling for reasons she didn't know). Nope, the only skeletons were the hypothetical ones that the city's giant closet harbored.  A giant closet complete with a double set of doors made of three-foot carbon fiber steel and another foot of reinforced laminated steel after that, or so rumors stated. They also said that it was buried so deep that they borrowed a three-headed dog from an old god to guard it. She didn't believe in fantasies from any of the religions, but one thing was certain: the government safeguarded something beneath the surface of the illuminating streets that even she couldn't break through without major help.

     Okay, so the city was not dead in the actual sense of the word. Not with the people milling about beneath Robyn, following their plotted schedules as they drove those hideous boxes on flashing electric streets or walking on akin sidewalks. Her gaze shifted back to the skyscraper across from her. Another one that belongs to one of the Families', she sneered at the thought, disgusted. But what building doesn't belong to them? If she had to look at one of their buildings, however, it would be this one. There was something about it that simply... fit.

     And here it comes...

    The main hologram went black as a giant crimson V appeared, followed by an auburn hawk that flew in and grabbed onto the two sides of the blood letter as it opened its beak and screeched out at the city. The beast was as beautiful as it was menacing. A symbol -she had been told- that had once struck awe as well as respect for the Family it belonged to. The Vaillas. To her the building and everything encompassing it expressed the power the Families held over this city, over the world, and their patron Space settlements. It didn't matter to her that they had supposedly tried to change things and paid for those attempted actions dearly. The Families... that symbol that played before her before returning to advertisements. The Families had shaped this life, shaped the life of the people below that acted like mindless shells rather than living people. All of them scurrying about like the mutated massive squirrels that infested the slums, ragged beasts that worked for a colony system akin to those extinct bugs she couldn't remember the names of. They really were like those huge rodent fiends, doing whatever they were instructed to do from the silvery work-nests, the brains... the Families. All of the unthinking rodents, rushing home from their blah jobs, to their even blah'er families, to live their blah blah blah lives. The lives they thanked whoever was in charge for, whether that be God or any other form of deity.

        Blazes, this city sucks. The mundane-ness of it all was maddening to her and left a pungent taste in her mouth, much like how she would imagine milk being if left on the counter for a few months. Well, if not for all the chemicals in it. Robyn wrinkled her nose at the thought before turning away from the gloomy view, weary of such thoughts that the sight had burdened her with. Thinking like this wasn't her. She didn't think. She acted. No, this was something her brother would do. Damn him. Damn this stupid pointless job. Damn it all... No, damn those stupid squirrels! If anything and everything could go wrong, everyone knew it was the rodents' fault. Even if there hadn't been one in a mile radius. Always, always their fault! What else could be the cause for her woes... because she certainly wasn't to blame. Not at all. While her life hadn't been easy before, it certainly had been simpler before the furry beasts did this to her. She only wanted to go back. Back to worrying about her Syndicate, worrying about Dagden their leader, worrying about the next job the group did. Go back to worrying where she'd get her next rush...

     Muttering a few curses as she walked, the wind picked up and carried them away as it lashed her navy hair around her and she shifted the black mask over her eyes to make sure the rubbery material was secure. The temperature was growing increasingly colder as the sun neared the horizon, readying to set. She glanced sideways, between the sun and the night skies, finding in the distance a billowing darkness was amassing, sinister and furious with dire intents. The sonic booms of thunder reached out much like its illuminating ruptures would later that night. These were the first signs of the hellish storm that the weather people had predicted hours before on her brothers TV. Other than that there was never any warning when these storms would flare across the barren landscape that was Earth. They would come fast, ravaging the already pillaged land and leave just as swiftly. Showing no mercy as a couple hundred died, and that was a good day!

     She frowned feeling her mood depress further. She didn't fear the storm. If anything she got a thrill daring these tempests. A rush. Normally she'd be welcoming Mother Nature on the second tallest building in the city, arms stretched wide even as the wall of watery shell-casings pelted down to the ground and the hurricane winds thrashed about. She would have watched the horizon on the Larvy-Stinger's Family building as the triplet towers of the LPC (Light-Power Corporation) -owned by the Luca family- gathered static energy with each thunderous strike from the heavens, transforming and storing the energy for the city's use. But she wasn't going to be standing there tonight, enjoying herself or that rush. No, she had this spontaneous job to accomplish. One she had almost brushed off... one she still wanted to.

     "Robyn?" her brother's voice echoed in her head through the out-dated communication device and she touched it to push the blazed contraption further in her ear. Almost everyone -even many of the forgotten masses in the slums- had implants that did one function or another. The most common was to allow people to communicate mentally, but she knew what they were really for: To track and control them all! Then again, in her eyes everything was used by the Families to control them.

     Most of the syndicates had illegal off-grid implants that the government couldn't track, even the one she belonged to. But there was no way in blazing squirrels-nest she would let someone put that kind of tech in her. Off-grid or not, with the right skills someone could still potentially hack them. Even so, this issue wasn't such a cut and dry thing. You could say her reluctance to use such tech was a touchy subject with Dagden, you didn't simply tell your leader 'no'. But she had told him no, she still did. Multiple times. And her defiance caused tension in the group, at least between her and Dagden. The biggest one -one that he still held a grudge for, she might add- was her refusal these past years to allow her brother to be involved in any of their jobs. She shook her head. The irony of this wasn't lost on her. She was here now with Lynx in her ear feeding her information and doing her most dangerous job to date. Whatever. I'm was doing this for him anyway. Last thing she wanted was her little brother she had strived so hard to protect to get hurt as he tried to break into a Family building.

     Sighing, she rubbed the inside of her right wrist that was covered by a black sleeve, refusing to look down, not wanting to see the agitated round marks on purple-yellowing skin as she came to a stop at a part of the roof that jetted out from the rest. She may say 'no' more than any one to Dagden, but when saying 'no' mattered most... 

     Blazes, she hated when her thoughts went to that. Shaking her head, she tried to rid herself of them, but they stayed. The shady memories lingering there like a miss-guided mutt that knew no better. Blast-it, not now... But the thoughts stayed, forming a whirlwind in her mind that she couldn't gain any ground on. With shaky fingers she plunged her hand into the pocket of her black cargo pants, fingers searching for that lifeline. She didn't need these thoughts going into a job like this. Being distracted like this was a sure way to get oneself killed and while she was many things, Robyn was not suicidal... unfortunately. That would have solved a good number of problems for many people.

     "... Sis, are you okay?  Robyn!"  he called out again right as her fingers grasped the device and she blinked, startled. Has he been talking this whole time? Squirrels, those blasted squirrels!

     "Yeah... I'm fine."

     Thoughts deterred, at least in part, she let go of the device and laced her fingers through her hair trying to calm down, her other hand on the small of her back. She had to remember what she was here for, needed to keep that in the forefront of her mind. Biting her lip, she shifted her stature as she stood before an eighteen inch by eighteen inch oval vent, her vivid aqua eyes surveying her point of attack into the silvery building owned by the Rydenhur family -known for their advanced military technology and militia. Her goal was to sneak her way in through this point of entry they didn't think about protecting more sufficiently and snatch all the inside goodies for herself... and her brother.

     Her hand reached out, touching the vent cover as she looked in between the slits. "I'm lookin' at the POE now, Lynx." Lynx was short for Lynxuz (her brother's code name for the Syndicate even though he was never actually allowed to help directly), one given for his uncanny knack for computers. He was one of those few people that could find an implant and hack almost any one of them, among other things. "How do I open it?" Oh, and the fact that he loved those pet lynxes, the upper-elite and the Families had. They were sly and intimidating cat versions of dreary guard-dog used by the lower end of the wealthy, far more exotic and deadly. They were also a great way to show off how much money one had, for lynx-guards were expensive, exclusive, and far more elitist than even the most advanced droids.

      "If you put pressure on the upper left side, you should be able to unhinge the cover. Just try not to destroy it, we don't want them knowing this was your entry, Sis."

     "Right..."

     Robyn frowned before curling her fingers around the left side of the vent and yanked the cover off. She let the cover hang briefly in her left hand as she looked at her right hand, slowly opening and closing her fist. There were some that would say what she had was a gift. Whoever they were she would like to meet them and give them this gift because they could have it. She had enough compulsions and cravings to put a hyper-spaz kid hopped-up on a ton of sugar and literally jumping off the ceiling with those Gravito boots to shame, last thing she needed was some strange energy to compound things. What had her brother called the power coursing through her veins? Dark energy... matter? Whatever the stuff there was no denying that it was highly enthralling... and that it made her a freak of nature.

     Shaking her head, she let the vent fall to the roof top and started to haul herself up into the vent. Clearly, one such freaky gift was that this energy made her physically powerful. Just as strong, if not more so than people who paid for strength implants -and not the normal run of the street shit, but advanced stuff that militaries owned by each of the individual Family used. There were other things of course, like the ability to partially see in this dark vent she kept crawling further into. But none of them were as bizarre and scary as the glowing blue aurora she emitted when she was crazed with rage or the ability to collect dark cobalt plasma goo that burned hotter than any zi-gun out there. She could throw energy at things... or people. Whatever she felt like really. Regrettably for her and those around her this energy wasn't that controllable, and more times than not, she just ended up hurting or killing people she never intended the energy to. So not only was her gift addictive, but was also explosive for all involved and in more ways than one. This dark energy was supposed to be invisible and unable to interfere with objects smaller than celestial bodies. Guess someone forgot to tell the 'dark energy' that when it decided her body made the perfect plaything.

     "I'm in," she grunted as she continued to wiggle her way into the building. So she was a little more than 'in', having been lost in her thoughts, but would judge her here? But I need to stop getting distracted, she thought, dropping down a shaft when she came to it. This crawling through a vent was a painfully slow process, but she had time to kill. She was going to have to come out of the vent sometime and for that the employees needed to be good and gone.

      Generally she didn't like thinking about her gift, but when this job was tied in with the energy it was hard to simply ignore an issue like that. It was like that huge mangy squirrel making a nest in your two-bedroom rundown apartment you shared with twenty other people in the slums. You never talked about the ugly beast, even though it was right there... gnawing and scratching inside the walls.

      Also, you could say that being here, risking her neck to steal whatever lay in the secret vault of this building was their way of looking for answers. Answers to questions that all began when her brother got his doctorates in medicine -followed swiftly by many other types- a few years back, where he discovered that both of them had been experimentally altered. Why? By whom? Those were very good questions. Ones she, they hoped to answer from the prize that lay in the vault. As for now, as she shimmied her way further into the building, they had nothing but this lead, for neither one could remember anything before their first memories of the slums. Guess one could say it all really started then...

      "...should be a left coming up. You'll want to take it then make a drop down..."

     Crap, has he been talking again? This whole time? I'm losing it... Stupid rodents. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and pressed on, taking the left that he mentioned (one she had already known she had to take), she then slid down the next shaft, hands and feet on either side, slowing her decent until she came to a near stop before the bottom.

     "Okay, go down the one straight ahead an-"

     "I know, Lynx. I got this, you don't have to walk me through it." It was her job in the gang after all, getting into otherwise impenetrable buildings. She may not have his sharp wit or photographic memory, but when she wanted to she could remember building layouts. Most times...

     "There are secu-"

     "I know," she growled back, being careful not to trigger one such security measure as she moved over the pressure plate.

      He hesitated, hearing the edge in her voice and mistaking it for something else. "You didn't use anything? Did you? Robyn, you know how I f-"

      "No! I didn't. Get off my back about that already," she snapped, stopping in the vent completely and glared at the darkness before her, hunched there with her right knee down. "I don't like you in my ear constantly is all." Losing steam, she realized how harsh she sounded and she closed her eyes before she rubbed the back of her neck and looked down. "This is going to take a while, why don't you go do whatever you do for fun... examine extinct animals DNA or something. Better yet, go find a girl and have a quickie for me. You're too uptight for someone your age."

     "You're disgusting..." She smirked and could mentally see him rolling his eyes. "And don't think I don't know what you are doing."

     Robyn started moving again, keeping a keen eye out for more security triggers. "What? Hoping my brother finally gets-"

      He groaned, "Sis. I haven't seen you in a few weeks, why is it you do this every time we talk?"

       "Cause I like seeing you squirm." She shrugged though he couldn't see the gesture. "Besides, it's my job to be crude and annoying. Everyone knows you're tighter than a waterproof duck's ass and I have to balance you out. Isn't that what you say the universe is all about? Balancing?"

      "Yes, I say that. But I don't think the universe cares about our personalities...” There was more he wanted to say, she knew it, but was hesitating in doing so and she wasn't going to press him for more. Not when she wanted this conversation done with.

      The seconds passed as she slid down another vent shaft, feet thumping slightly at the bottom and she winced, hoping no one heard. She was about to continue forward when she noticed she had almost landed on another pressure plate and was about to put her hand on one. Crap, I need to be more careful... Making a mental note, she eased forward, going slower to make double sure she triggered nothing.

       Finally her brother muttered softly bringing her mind back to their unwanted conversation, "Just be safe, Sis, and don't do anything crazy without me, okay?"

       "Never dream of it."

       "Sure..." She could hear that he didn't believe her in the slightest, but ignored him and her guilt as he severed the connection.

        After a few minutes of silence with her dark thoughts, she stopped, putting her forehead on her arm as she leaned over and shook her head. Her breath further stirred the dust that clung to the cold metal and made her overly sensitive nose itch. She ignored that too, instead letting her other hand go down to her cargo pants' pocket once more. From outside the pocket she grasped the device and closed her eyes. The way I lived... it isn't fair to him. They didn't need the money anymore. He made more than enough for the both of them. But it was hard to give up the only things she knew. This type of life. The syndicate. They were her friends, her only family other than Lynx. It had nothing to do with Dagden. It definitely doesn't have anything to do with him... Or that she didn't think she could live her life without constantly risking it. Or even the drugs.  I can leave them all if I had to...

      "..."

      Noises. No, voices, suddenly reached her ears, and even with her sensitive hearing -another side effect of her gift- they were too muffled to make sense of. Happy for the distraction, Robyn continued moving, coming to a turn in the shaft and found a gridded vent a few yards before her, the light shining through the slits making the dust in the vent air glint and shimmer as it swirled in the air. Crawling closer, she peeked through the slits to find two women in lab coats standing below.

      "... you finish the report for Dr. Rolland? We can't be late on another one," one woman's voice drifted up to her, her face neutral except for the slight ting of fear in her eyes and voice.

       Robyn could easily make out what the other woman said back, but her soft feminine voice was drowned out by the rekindled memory the first woman's question had summoned, a memory of her trip to her brother's place yesterday by magtrain in the subway. And quite against her will the memory took over everything as it played out in her head...

"Did you get the paper work done yesterday, Alice?"

      I groan audibly and the woman speaking turns in her plastic green chair to blink at me with this confused expression that puts more wrinkles on her aged face, probably not even thinking that I heard since she whispered it.

     The woman she is talking to, a plump forty-something, continues to stare out the window at the holograph advertisements with her empty eyes as her breath fogs the glass. "I didn't."

     My brows rise, acting as if I didn't do anything and she turns back around and gives her friend a worried look. "That's the thirteenth time..."

     "..." The plump one shrugs.

     Blazing Squirrels! This is exactly how I want to spend my morning, listening to an old crone fretting over someone who will probably be in one of the incinerators by tonight.

Robyn shook her head, trying to lodge the memory and lingering thoughts free. However, they clung to her as she felt herself sneer in the memory and turn in her uncomfortable lime-green chair, or how she had brought her muddy combat boots up and soiled the seat next to her. Two people, a man and a woman she had nicknamed then and there as 'dull' and 'duller', had sat in chairs on the other side of the train, watching her. She had given them a condescending smirk, uncaring she was being rude.

       Not now! This so couldn't happen now. Her fist clenched before her as she continued to fight herself. She was supposed to be breaking into a building of one of the Families, not breaking down and having flashbacks. What was wrong with her?

'Dull' and 'duller' look away and I lean my head back. My mind starting to wander as it normally does in moments of boredom. I never know where it may go. This time I find my thoughts going back to Dagden, his scarred hands that never seem to find a day's rest. They are always tinkering with something as he works in his shop room on the main floor, generally to work on old cars that the government has banned -except for the Families of course.

      I can picture Dag bent over an old rusted remake of a Ford Mustang. Shirt off. A few tantalizing drops of sweat trailing down his broad tan back. 'Tis disgusting really how much time I sit on the indoor window to my third floor loft-room watching him. But I can't help myself. I am drawn to his energy...

      Or his handsome face always covered in grease smudges, that distinct scent is imbued into him, a part of him. He's troubled, an orphan from the very orphanage under the gang's hideout. And I have always wanted to help him. But he never notices me except for when I do something wrong or when he needs something from me.

     This thought takes me to the night before when he returned to the hideaway riled up on about something. I should have known what it was about when he came straight to me with that dark intent... It wasn't until I heard her name being called out that I realized that I was being used again. Rosa, what kind of prissy name is that?

Robyn brought her fits down on the vent beneath her, furious with herself. The metal echoed with the sound around her, rattling the memory for a few seconds and her eyes she didn't realize she had closed, snapped open in horror as comprehension of what she did settled on her. Glancing down between the slits, she found no one was beneath her and she held her breath, heart pounding. As the seconds turned into minutes and she knew no one had heard her, the memory, or rather her subconscious deemed it was safe to continue said memory...

      I stop the thoughts about Rosa and Dag, growing frustrated with myself. I look down at my hands, they are shaking, small-little quakes. I am jittery. My heart thump, thump, thumps in my chest, rattling my ribs and yet I feel like the rush is leaving me. But I know it hasn't. It couldn't have. I just took some not even an hour before! But I feel the snakes. Snakes knotting in my stomach, coiling in me, feel that sick tense feeling that always follows a night like that. Or how I just seem to want to lie down and never get up as these thoughts and questions lash out at me like a blood encrusted police baton...

      "... you can't fight it," 'Already-dead' mutters softly after what feels like hours in my head, mirroring the dark thoughts I harbor. I blink the haze from my eyes and look at them. The 'Crone' is still going on about the papers and trying to get the other woman to fight the inevitable. Seeing it for the perfect distraction it is, I turn to face forward, weaving fingers through my hair as I try to calm myself. "I messed up again, and nothing I can say will change that."

     "But you can still try... grovel... do something, Alice. This is your life here!" 'Crone' grabs her arm, shaking the plump woman a little, hoping that it will jar her from whatever stupor she has fallen into.

      'Already-dead' looks to her friend, hope briefly flaring in her eyes as she asks, "Can you claim it?" 'Crone' pales. "You only have five. They may not find out and if you take this-"

     "I can't. Sorry" The 'Crone' leans back, away from the plump woman as if she were a rabid squirrel only to completely turn away from her and pain flashes across the younger woman's features.

     Eyes watering, the first true emotion I have seen from her since getting on this magtrain, a single tear slips free and streaks down her chubby cheeks, dripping off her chin, before disappearing into the fabric of her plain blouse. 'Already-dead' nods, gaze going back to the advertisements, accepting her fate. She will simply disappear without even a whimper, no record of her existence other than the registry the government carries will remain of her existence. This is the first time I have ever been face to face with someone who knows their fate. Sure. I understood and have seen many of these peoples' bodies get tossed into the incinerators on the edge of the city, but to be this close. I find myself feeling for 'Already-dead', this woman I don't even know.

    

Finally, Robyn shoved the memory back down, deep into the shadows of her mind with the rest. With a shaking hand she touched her face. She wished she could say things like this didn't happen, but they did. Worse yet, they seemed to be increasing. Taking a few slow, deliberate breaths she tried to concentrate on the task she started. She could examine this later, figure out the 'why' when she wasn't in such a position. Clamed, she slowly started moving again. Thinking of moving one hand in front of the other. She could think of little else if she wanted to keep in the present and not get lost in other much darker memories.

      That was one of her newer fears. Forever being trapped in memories. Especially ones she would rather forget. But there was something about this last experience that wouldn't leave her. The face of the plump woman or how the Crone put up such a fight until asked for help. The more Robyn thought about it -neglecting the fact that she was currently in a Families' building and that she was supposed to be careful- she realized something. I'm really no different than them, am I? She had scratched at this realization on the magtrain, and it was one of the reasons why she finally agreed to do this for her brother, but she couldn't hide from the facts anymore. Her life was exciting and freer, but it was only a tarnished thrill, a fake token life that held no true meaning.

      She had felt for the first time in her life like she wanted to do something for this plump woman.  But what could I have done? If I had put myself out there, made myself a target, I would have merely disappeared like her. Robyn moved faster in the vent with these thoughts, wanting to be done with them. But they wouldn't leave her, much like the memory had they stuck with her and she kept coming back to that woman. That lone woman who was already dead and forgotten by the government. She should have done something. But you can't do anything if you're dead, right? That was what would have happened to her if she intervened. She knew that. But with this fact she had allowed them to retain her, hold her back from doing what she had wanted to do...  How am I better than those mindless people I have scorned for their blah lives?

      Having reached this truth was a painful realization, one she had refused to accept even on the magtrain. But now she found that she couldn't ignore it anymore. She had always thought herself as an individual. Someone who ran her own life and did what she wanted... She thought she was living a better life than them. More free. Living by no one's rules but her own and unable to understand their hollow lives that didn't have some sort of... of thrill instilled with it. No one questioned anything out loud. Even her. No one ever questioned for fear of what would happen. Though hers wasn't because of fear, just that she didn't care. Or so she told herself.

      It seemed the fight had been beaten out of all of them like the poor battered, broken dog Robyn would pass on 56th Street by the ex-policeman who never knew when to stop drinking his bourbon. Haunted as he was by the drone of whimpered and dismayed wails of his innocent victims, images that would always wake him up in the middle of the night yelling - those few nights he actually could sleep.

      But that troubled man and his broken dog where only one sad tale in this world of suppression and deceit. And oh, how Robyn knew this. She knew it like that tiny blond-girl, a new addition to the slums overcrowded orphanage below the gang's hangout. Still months after, she waited by the orphanage window, waited like that bright cheery day that turned into a clear calm night when her parents never returned home from their own mundane blah jobs. They vanished just like all the others. It was not hope that kept her by that cracked glass pane that leaked whenever a storm overtook the city.

     Robyn never let such sad stories -which were as numerous and as huge as those ugly squirrels- get to her, she would have fallen into the abyss of depression a long time ago. Never mind the fact that she was often more times than not depressed and high on something. In all she was starting to feel like a worn out child's book, you know the ones with the faded out pictures and frayed corners. Or maybe she was too little butter spread over a burnt crumbling biscuit? All she knew was that her life had been tilted, tumbling her backwards, and she was having difficulties figuring out exactly where she belonged in this-

     CLICK

     Robyn was jerked from her thoughts from the abrupt noise that echoed in the vent. Puzzled, she looked around her, before and behind her as she stopped, wondering what the sound had been from. It had been an odd sound, like a... the click of an old-styled gun with a hammer. Or perhaps a trigger mechanism? Oh no! Her gaze shifted to her right hand, finding that it was on a pressure switch that would activate a security failsafe. Lost in her thoughts as she had been, she had completely forgotten the security.

     "Blazing Squirrels!"

.~-~.

     Drake smirked at the common slum curse as he stared at a bigger holographic image of the assailant in the vent on his more advanced and hidden computer in his apartment. When his new client (the thought alone made him want to burst out laughing) had left him to do his job, he had rushed from his office, turned off his open sign on the front door before locking it, and took the stairs too at a time to get to his bedroom. Now here he was re-watching the footage of the heist with the safety and privacy he had wanted before but hadn't gotten.

     This woman dawned in all black and outfit even complete with a cute little mask was facing him, but her head was bent down glaring accusingly at her right hand, her navy-hair -that was almost black in the dark vent- fell before her face as her vivid blue eyes barely peeked out beneath the silky waterfall.  She wasn't what he expected the culprit with a pair of brace balls to be. But then what did one expect from the infamous Robyn from the Night Mist Syndicate? At least notorious to all those of the underground world, which he was more than familiar with. She was a mysterious woman, even among her own people, and it was hard to separate the fanciful tales from truth. To actually have a face to the name -or masked face, he chuckled at the thought- was what anyone outside of the group would die to have. Any information about her and the group was selling at obscene prices because everyone wanted their success and their secrets to copy. Or maybe even to persuade this woman to join their syndicate.

     From his contacts, not much was really known about the Night Mist's. Only that they were at the top of the underground world and had been for roughly ten years, just around the time this woman appeared. While not the leader of the gang, she sure was their symbol. A symbol not only members of her group looked to but everyone in the subversive world below the Families looked to. Hellish Outzones, even many of the Families had heard of her... not by name, but her exploits were something they feared. Feared the day when someone who was believed to be so unnaturally gifted got the guts to take a stand against the government.

    He had wondered before seeing this footage if the rumors were true. Could she really use energy like that of a zi-gun? Did she have these strengths and superior senses naturally that everyone needed implants for? Or did she really massacre that group of people seven years ago? Other than the last one he certainly got his answers. They said she was crazy and having seen her in action himself he could see why. Maybe she is the one who killed all these little girls? As soon as the thought crossed his mind, however, he let it go. He may not know that much about her, and now only have this simple vid-clip, but she didn't strike him as the serial killer he was looking for. Having watched it once with that annoying Rydenhur Representative, he knew she was too childish, that when she used her powers she did indeed go crazy. Or in the least drunk off of all that power and had what looked like no control over herself or impulses. Oh, and that she was a druggy. That last one had been the first one he noticed actually. Her little jerks, itching her nose constantly, and the biggest one being that bruise of three circular marks in a triangle form from an applicator...

     Tilting his head, he paused the image of her before everything started getting hectic, his hazel eyes going to the slight bulge in her right pants' pocket. If he was taking wagers, he would bet that that bulge was the applicator device. Someone like her would need to have it on her at all times. Why does she use? That question bothered him. Usually he could tell right away the 'why'. Perhaps because of her powers? He shook his head, letting these questions go as he commanded the computer to pick up the frequency from her ear-bud communicator before having it continue.

     She was still muttering curses about squirrels under her breath when a young man's voice that had been hidden before, echoed in his small bedroom. "Sis, what did you do?"

     A brother? That was something he hadn't heard before. "I... um..." He saw her cheeks flush and she whispered, clearly hating to admit her folly, "I tripped a pressure plate..."

     "I can see that on my computer. I was able to block the warning, but I don't have enough control to stop the security system from starting once you remove your hand... and there's video watching you now." She looked around warily, probably looking for the camera as the young-man mumbled sarcastically, "What happened to knowing?"

     "Oh, stuff-it," she snapped, blue eyes of her holograph seemingly meeting Drake's. "What's going to happen when I take my hand off? I'm not going to explode am I?"

     "No, but-" Relieved, she took her hand from the plate and he sputtered, "Robyn!"

     Drake chuckled, finding the new commentary from her brother really added to the vid-clip.

     "What?" She started crawling, trying to make sure she didn't trigger any more plates as she went.

     "You won't explode but there ar-" His words were cut off when the sound of static charged air buzzed and right where she had been and a few feet before her, thin red beams criss-crossed.

     "Lasers!" Robyn shrieked, making Drake and no doubt her brother wince. "Why didn't you tell me they had lasers?"

     "You didn't give me time." There was movement on the other end. "Get moving. You'll want to time yourself like that one job on Reinath."

     So that had been her... Drake wasn't surprised.

     She nodded to herself, literally surging forward when the lasers went dark in front of her. For such a cramped space, it was rather amazing how fast she was moving. Especially now that she no longer cared if anyone heard her when the treat of being sliced in half by searing hot lasers was so eminent. She was soaring through those vents like a mad woman. Would he have been able to do the same? Probably not. It also made Drake wonder how long it would have taken her if she had done that from the very beginning. Thirty minutes? No, more like twenty... She stopped whenever the lasers blocked her way, then planned her jumps whenever she had to go down another shaft, falling either right before the wave of lasers or behind it. To say she had skills at least at dodging lasers would be a vast understatement.

     "Lynx! They're speeding up. Can you slow them down or something?" She stopped before another shaft, looking over the side to the drop below, the beams flickering down much like the lights on those piezoelectric crosswalks on the main streets.

     "No... But once you reach one of the vault's main vents the lasers won't be able to reach you. The short of it is the computers and tech inside interfere with them."

     "Great," she huffed, then seeing her opening jumped, her hair fluttered behind her like the flags had been that day during the storm. She landed heavily on the metal below, leaving an indent only to see the glow that warned her of the lasers around her turning on, she cursed and started moving.

     "Bet you wish you were a squirrel now, huh sis?" Her brother chuckled softly, his mood surprisingly light considering the situation she was in.

     "You gained a sense of humor now?" she hissed, "I don't think now is such a great time. I could die in here."

     "True... but if you used your-"

     "No!" What was that about? Drake thought, replayed it again, seeing the emotions flitter across her face. The most noticeable other than anger was fear.

     Filing that away for later, he let the footage continue. A few seconds later, she looked behind her finding the red beams an inch from her combat boots and she squeaked, "Crap, must move faster, must move faster."

    How it was at all possible, Drake didn't know. But she did... she moved faster, on top of the already speedy pace she was making. It didn't look to be enough though, as those red lights got closer and closer. He felt his own heart rate quicken (even though he had seen it all before and knew what was coming), felt his palms were sweaty and his mouth dry. Go, go! he rooted for her mentally in his head, wanting her to reach that safe haven in time. And a part of him knowing this must have been the rush she was feeling, it reminded him of his years in the war. He could remember easily remember high he got after each mission. At times he missed it. But he knew better now. Perhaps there was more to this drug thing than he first thought?

      These thoughts ceased when he saw that the beams were an inch away again...

      A half an inch.

       A quarter.

      An eighth.

      Then very bottom of her black boots bubbled and fizzled as the red lasers flayed the heels. She didn't notice how close she was to having her foot, or in the least her toes seared off. He found himself wanting to call out to her warn her as he felt himself grab the desk before him, knuckles white, body tense. C'mon, can't you smell it? And there it was, her own recognition as her nose wrinkled at the burnt scent of rubber. If he had wanted to he could have smelt it with her, but he had left that part of the computer off, not wanting to have the regenerated fumes pollute his bedroom. While she noticed how close the lasers were, she didn't turn and remained silent, no more childish curses on the tip of her tongue. Instead she was concentrating on the goal. A goal that was just beyond the next turn in the vent. Maybe five yards at that. But those lasers were still slicing thin layers into her heels every other handful of seconds. She was so close...

     Time seemed to slow, those last yards nearly unbearable to watch. Her face reddened from all the abrupt movement, her lungs gasping for air as her chest heaved, and her blue eyes sparking with excitement and fear, knowing how close she was on both accounts. One little slip from her sweaty hands, just dawdling in the slightest... She was as good-as-dead. Her brother's voice also appeared sluggish, and Drake could imagine as he told her to "hhhuuurryyyyy", his mouth opening after the h to form the 'o' like shape, then closing somewhat before his lips pulled back to make the 'reeee'. Her brother's concern taking over the humor his tone once had, putting his voice up a few octaves to make him sound like a small child.

      Then time all came crashing back, colliding as she fell face first into the main air shaft to the vault. Unlike the other shafts this one had kinks in it as the metal dissented lower and lower into the building, or rather she dissented lower beneath the ground. Her shoulder slammed into the first forty-five degree kink, leaving a basketball sized dent before she rolled off the incline and fell the next few yards, body tilting around head-over-end as she went and her hip left an even greater indent as she hit the next one. Each time she came to a kink she landed on a different part of her body before rolling and falling, repeating the process... one... two... three... four... five times before she landed in a heap at the bottom.

      Drake released the breath he never realized he was holding, shaking his head at the not so graceful landing. But he knew it wasn't over yet so he remained tense. Watching the image off to her right, it wasn't clear from the angle he had, but from the eight off-centered flower-petal shaped objects that were blocking the light from the vault... he could see the danger for himself as they slowly started to come alive.

      "Robyn?!" Lynx called out to her and she groaned softly. "Robyn! Are you okay?"

      "Ya, ya... I'm alive. Barely..." she muttered as she managed to untangle herself and prop herself up onto her hands before glancing at her feet. "You owe me a new pair of boots, blast-it."

      Her brother ignored the comment. "Sis, you need to hurry."

      Sitting back on to her hip, legs curled beside her she panted, "What is it now?"

     "There are fans that will be turning on soon... or are now rather."

      Confused, she pushed her snarled hair from her face as best as she could. "Fans?" A low whine, rumbled and she looked to the right, blinking. "Uh... those look sharp."

      "They are, even with your energy they might kill you..." he hesitated.

      Energy? Is that what they call that? What kind of energy? Drake mused, rubbing his chin.

      She moved so that she faced the twin fans, sitting on her butt with her legs bent and arms supporting her weight from behind as she snapped at him, "And do tell, how the blazes am I supposed to get past them, Lynx? Their big, but I don't think I could slip through them even if they weren't starting to MOVE!"

      "I know..."

       "That doesn't help me any." But he remained silent, probably thinking. A string of curses came from her mouth that would have made any of Drake's old war buddies proud, and she hastily got to her feet, walking up the incline, melted heels sticking as she went with this shlik thrap noise every time she set her foot down and picked it up. She looked up the shaft she just fell down from and yelled out as the fans' noise grew, "What did you get me into, brother? This is a death trap."

       Drake entered another command in the computer to clear away the fan noise that was starting to increase, not wanting to miss the conversation between the two siblings again, something about the look on her face in the moments coming screamed the importance of these moments. His attention turned back to the holographic image just as she started to climb back up, more curses joining the rest and he marked a few to remember later.

      "Lynx?" her voice yelled out, fear tinting it. She no longer looked excited.

      "Sorry... I was hoping I could shut them down and you could slip through..." he trailed off.

       "W-What I'm I supposed to do?"

      "Use the Dark energy, Robyn. Destroy the fans."

     Dark energy? Drake quickly took out a note book from a drawer from the desk and wrote the word down to look up later. It sounded familiar, but ages had passed since his schooling days.

      The color ran from her face as the tug of the fans sucking air into the vault grew in strength and her arms and legs shook from the force. This was the look that had drawn his attention. Her blue irises were nearly nonexistent as the black swallowed it whole, her mouth opening, reminding him of those murdered girls, and the sheer terror in her eyes was so tangible that he could almost reach out and touch it. She shook her head, only slightly at first, then forcefully.

      "No... no! I-I can't."

      "You can, sister." She continued to shake her head and when she didn't answer him he stressed, "Robyn, you have to."

      Anger kindled in her eyes with his words, and she covered her fear as she growled at him, "You knew this could happen. Why didn't you tell me?"

      "Because I knew you wouldn't have done this..."

      She sneered, "But you know what will happen! You are willing to let that happen just to get into this stupid vault?"

      Lynx sighed. "Sister, we need to see what's in that vaults computer... It's the only link we have to our past. Please. I know what I'm asking and I wouldn't if I didn't think it was important."

      Drake wrote all this down, curious as to what her brother meant about their past. How was the Rydenhur's connected to their past? Dare he ask Rosaline?

      Robyn closed her eyes, the force growing from the fans sucking air downward growing. She was starting to slide as it yanked at her. "You don't know what you're asking."

      "Rob-"

       Her eyes snapped open, a strange glow alighting the blue as the black started to shrink. "Shut-up. Don't think I don't know the significance of what we could find, and I'll do it. For you. Just know that whatever happens is on your shoulders, not mine."

      "I know... I take full responsibility."

      "Fine!" she spat, the blue light swelling from her body, flickering out from her skin and black clothes. Her already vivid blue eyes shimmering as the energy grew.

       Drake watched in wonderment. Never having seen anything like it before -okay, this was the second time, but still amazing nonetheless- and there had been a lot of strange, abnormal things he had seen in his lifetie. Her arms stopped shaking as the energy appeared to give her more strength, and using her legs to keep her from falling into the sucking whirlwind, she held her right arm before her. The blue light started to gather there in the palm of her hand, hovering an inch from her skin as the energy turned darker shades of blue and grew in size. She slid a little, the force of the fan increasing further -and, Drake noticed, if she slid anymore she would be sucked into the fans, hacked into tiny little bloody pieces. The ball of cobalt energy blossomed, with each passing second inches added to the radius until it was the span of her shoulders.

      Smirking -a sight that made Drake shiver given how twisted it looked- she released the ball of energy, letting the suction yank the blue ball away and drive its course. A few heartbeats later she gave a small hope, bringing her arms and legs together and fell, not waiting for the energy to meet the fans before plunging after it. The vid-chip suddenly switched to the vault camera, the vent screen on the upper left side of the room, and the corresponding fans exploded out with such a force the metal slammed into the opposite wall, impaling there. A streak of blue followed, another blast of the cobalt energy aimed at the same wall slowed her projection, even reversing it somewhat, and she fell to the ground harmlessly as she landed on the balls of her feet and knees bent to absorb the impact.

      "Robyn, you need to hurry. They are sending guards down. They'll be there soon," Lynx's voice seemed to echo in the new silence and Drake blinked, only to shake his head in awe. Was this the future he was seeing? The future of humans?

      "Let them come." She walked to the main computer, the energy still hugging her body, flickering around her. "I wouldn't mind having a little fun." If so, here was the draw back... the thought of invincibility and thinking one could do whatever they wished. This was where the power lust started to show.

       "Sis, calm down. Just do what we came to do and get out."

        Plugging the small device she pulled from another pocket of her cargo pants into the computer, she stepped back as the screens came to life and pouted at no one in particular. "Where's the thrill in that?"

        "Robyn..."

        "Hn, whatever." She shrugged, turning from the computer to check out the other objects in the room. It wasn't that much. One wall was completely devoted to the computer, another was devoted to a few of the Rydenhur's most advanced guns, and the other two full of ancient antiquities and other priceless artifacts.

      Ignoring the guns completely -considering she was a weapon, Drake wasn't surprised- she walked to a statue. The stature of David -if Drake remembered correctly from his days as a student. Robyn tilted her head, examining it as she stood before it. Tisking with disgust, she shook her head and placed her hand on the worn marble. Her glowing hand was the only warning before the ancient, one of a kind history piece exploded into chunks of deadly marble and crashing into other such one-of-a-kinds behind the once priceless statue. One softball seized piece hit a podium to her right, and whatever lay on top in a glass case was thrown back at her. Her hand smashed completely through the glass and snatched the object was from the air, but from the camera's position, her body blocked the sight of whatever it was. A necklace perhaps? It wouldn't surprise him if it was. Shrugging, she put whatever the tiny object was in the pocket with her drug applicator before starting on a rampage that would make anyone who knew a hint of history faint as she started to destroy more invaluable objects and pocketing those that were small enough to.

      As the minutes passed and her pockets grew bulkier and bulkier -and she ignored her brother's pleading voice- the computer behind her continued to scan through the files. Lynx clearly in the system as he copied everything. What was it that they were searching for? Rosaline never said what was on the computer. Even so, Drake could imagine. But what had Robyn's brother said about a link to their past? Did they not know?

      Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighed. What does the Family think I can do? He may have the most advanced implants as Rosaline had reminded him before leaving -and was unfortunately a damn good soldier- but he doubted he could stand up against that kind of power. Never mind the fact that he really didn't want to. If anything...

     His gaze went back to the holograph, watching as guards poured into the room from the elevator and chaos erupted as they shot at her and she fought back with the strange blue energy, slaughtering them. All the while her brother, Lynx, yelled in her ear before she crushed the device in annoyance. If anything... he was more interested in finding this woman and giving her the training needed to become a weapon he could use to put an end to the Families' horrific rule, put an end to a world dominated by privatized capitalism and where most of the populace suffered for the greater health of the elites. No more would he have to satisfy his need for justice with minor murderers and focus his gaze on where it belonged...

     The only issue was this may be exactly what Rosaline expected from him. She knew him better than anyone. She was his twin after all and they had shared a womb. He turned the computer off and walked to the window of his second-story bedroom, looking out to the street, watching the dead husks walking home. Was he prepared to face the consequences that his actions would bring? Especially if he should fail? Or when he broke it, could he put it all back together, better than what they had now?

     He lost himself in the plotting and planning required of such a task, only to shake himself out of it. He smiled bitterly at his reflection, messy dirty-blond hair and hazel eyes. I'm no different than my family, am I?