A/N For the third time I've revamped this. It was just after I read Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, so bear with the excessive language (not potty mouth, just wordy, heh...well there's potty mouth too. I swear like a sailor, shoot me. shrug) I hope this version is more readable and accessible, and in character. I'm taking it in a different direction than I'd originally intended to, so to those who liked how it was going before you have my sincerest apologies.

Prologue: Jubilee

She was dark within the shadows, thick space between light and wall. She crouched next to a dilapidated brick building, the slight shift in shadow as she brought in heavy lungfuls of breath the only hint at her whereabouts. Boots that reached to her knees remained motionless in an inch of filmy water, afraid to shift and alleviate the stiffness in her legs for fear of the mildest audible splash.

There came the sudden murmur of many feet approaching. She chanced a quick turn of her head, eyes resting on a dimly lit alleyway to her left. There was no way to tell what was down it without exploring it firsthand, and by all accounts the mob seemed to be coming steadily closer. Plucking up her courage, and the yellow rain slicker she wore, she darted from the shadows and into the depths of the corridor just before her hunters would come into view.

Her features were pleasant though currently frowning in concentration; skin the smooth porcelain undertones of the east while her blue eyes denoted her American heritage. Short black hair manipulated with mousse and texture to stand up in a dark halo of mess around her face, and a pair of pink sunglasses nestled motionless within it. Her jeans were tight enough to make out the curve of toned thigh, and ripped in several places, though it seemed to be as much fashion statement as rough living.

Shouts of anger and instruction from her pursuers echoed through the otherwise vacant damp streets somewhere behind her as she desperately searched for safety. Her worst fears were realized when she found the alley to be a dead end.

Breath caught in her throat as she stopped just short of the concrete side of a building. Heart thudding audibly in her chest, she felt the faintest prick of fear induced nausea, but she determinedly squashed it down. Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face the light at the end of the alley, prepared to go down fighting. Her vision, blurred with the faintest trace of unshed tears, caught the glint of metal in the moonlight. A grate at her feet, leading… Where? ...The sewer?

Her nose wrinkled in distaste, but she had no time for the luxury of a second thought. Kneeling, she slid thin fingers through the crisscross of sharp metal to gain a firm grip. Fingerless gloves offered little protection from the bite as she strained to up-heave the thick grating. It was much heavier and more comfortable in it's current position than it looked. After a frantic moment of heart pounding in her ears, she jarred it loose and kicked it a few inches open. Nearly enough room; she could very nearly fit. Using strength born of adrenaline she shoved the grate open a few precious inches more. Enough to squeeze through.

Holding her breath, she dropped down into the dark. The only light cast in these damp tunnels streamed through the cracks of the open grate above. She desperately wished she could close it to cover her tracks, but it was a good foot or more beyond her reach now, and no more weightless than it had been.

Cursing inwardly and praying for a bit of good fortune, she began to make her way slowly down into the almost impregnable darkness. Determined not to give herself time to feel trepidation about jumping from the frying pan into a whole new disgusting fryer. Her boots sloshed through indescribable filth, but better that than being beaten to death up on the rain drenched streets.

With belated remembrance she reached into her jacket's pocket, fished around until she found a penlight, and twisted the top to activate it. It gave off little glow, but the girl was able to find her way through the maze without meeting any corners face first.

She had been wandering almost half an hour, the terror and adrenaline having died down to be replaced with irritation and displeasure at her current surroundings, when she heard the echo of voices behind her. Shrinking against the wall, she doused her light and prepared to face that which she believed to be her pursuers. That same spike of fear shooting up through her again, not as far away as she thought it'd been.

They carried no light; only the oddly occurring slit from the street above allowed her to see them at all. She could make out four shapes, short and burly, but no distinguishing features. As they passed where she hid, she threw her lithe body from cover and leaped into the air, lashing out with her right leg at the last figure. She was aiming for the head. The connection jarred her body, but she was rewarded when she heard a groan and a curse as he slammed into the far wall.

Surprised that he was still conscious, she set her jaw; no matter; he wouldn't be for long. Dropping to a crouch in an offensive posture, she held her arms out before her, curling her palms out to face her opponents. As the first shape approached her, she struck with her left hand, aiming to crush his nose back into his skull and prove she meant business. Instead, she bit back a cry of pain when her palm slammed into a hard flesh that melded with the face too smoothly to be a nose. The girl clutched her hand to her chest, taking a wary step back, assuming that he had somehow turned his face at the last moment or that her aim had been poor.

"How many are there?" One of the figures sounded more curious than perturbed. The man she'd felled had returned to his feet and all four were approaching her.

Still dusting himself off the figure who'd taken the hit to the head grumbled, "I dunno, but I'm gonna kill 'em."

There was fumbling as though for a light or weapon, and the girl didn't intend to wait around to find out which. She pointed her hands out toward her enemies, and drew on the power that had manifested itself at puberty. Her mutant gift. A half second breath where the tunnel was silent and then came the eruption of noise as the tunnel exploded in colored light.

"Ah Help, I'm Blind!" Shrieked the figure in front falling back and shielding his eyes with a muscular arm. Knowing that she was outnumbered, and it occurring to her she might not have properly recognized her enemies, she turned to dart away down the hall.

"Oh no you don't," Growled out the same low city accent that had promised to kill her. Bare feet slapped after her in a frenzied tempo that mirrored her own heartbeat; the only warning she'd get to precede the heavy weight landed to the back of her head. She had only a moment to think, Uh oh, as the world tilted, and she slid off the earth into her own nightmares.

"Bring the light," The figure said, kneeling beside her, "Jesus," he groaned audibly, "it's just a girl."

He bent carefully to lift her, despite it having been his blow that felled her. He turned to face his three brothers, the corners of his mouth turned down in a familiar frown. "Great. What now?"

"Can we keep her?"

Three groans issued in unison.

"That joke wasn't funny the first time you told it."