Oh, hellow. This is a series, just so you know, and my first attempt at an on-going fanfic.

I'm nervous!

I don't own Hanna is Not a Boy's Name, of course.

"Here, miss, let me show you. We have new kitchen supplies, so you might see something new you like..."

Hanna wasn't a good business man. He was happy he didn't become a used car salesman. He couldn't imagine how his co-workers woke up every morning and came back to Target every day. The place wasn't as bad as Wal-Mart, which Hanna had worked in for a year or two, but it still drained the life out of anyone that moved. But Hanna had a secret weapon - a friend that stood by him and walked to Target almost every other day to walk home with him. Before Plato came along, Hanna had been alone (minus Worth, of course), and the redhead was more grateful than he could ever say that the zombie had found him. Because days like March 11th were not days he could easily survive on his own.

As he shuffled over to the kitchen area, with a woman and her three obnoxious boys behind her, Hanna could feel the beginnings of a headache slowly seep into his brain. He cast a glance at the clock on the wall, and then over to the door with the big sign, "EMPLOYEES ONLY". It would be another ten minutes until Hanna could walk in that door, shove the homemade mac n' cheese that Joab made into an old radioactive microwave and collapse on the hideous red couch to eat. But first he had to suffer through this family.

"Uh - sir? How much is 20% off of $30.00?"

"Where can I find the pacifiers?"

"There's crap all over the floor! Target should be sued!"

"Excuse me? Excuse me! You know, you people are very hard to get a hold of. Where's your manager?"

It all echoed in his head. The idiocy of the average Target customer mind made him wish he could beat his head against a wall. But it was that promise of a 30-minute escape that kept Hanna on his feet.

"Did you say the microwaves were around here?"

Hanna was brought back to earth as the single mother peered around a row of kitchen appliances, and her son began to tug on his pantleg.

"Mister, you'd better stay away from my mommy."

"Hush, Gabe. Oh, never mind sir, I found them. Thank you!"

Hanna opened his mouth to speak, but behind him, from the very front of the store, there was a crash. Daring himself to see what happened, Hanna peered around a refridgerator to see what had happened. One, two, three, four, no five men had entered the store. With big guns. One of them was holding his manager by the collar, another was grinning as he walked through the rows of registers. Hanna's stomach did backflips and he could feel his breathing speed up. There were small children in the store, and his thought was reinforced as someone's baby began to scream and cry from somewhere in the store. Hanna's knees began to shake - had they seen him? Would they shoot him? That family behind him...Hanna gathered up the boy clinging to his knee and signalled for the woman to follow him. He had no idea what he was doing.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god..."

She kept muttering the same thing over and over, but Hanna had other noises for company. A hissing ringing in his ears was his lifeline. He focused on that noise - it kept him sane. He led the small family into the workroom, which was empty. Hanna pointed across the room, and tried to speak. He found his throat was dry and he had to paused until he could speak. It was a struggle to keep his voice steady.

"I need you to hide in that closet, don't move. I'm going to get help, okay?"

The woman only nodded, and Hanna noticed she was holding back a stream of tears. Her boys looked panicked and afraid, but they were too confused to understand. For the family Hanna had loathed only a few minutes ago, he felt pity sink in and replace irritation. He offered them a shaky smile as he walked out the door, quick to leave before the mother had a chance to ask him what he was doing. Hanna did a lap around one of the aisles so the criminals wouldn't think he'd come from the direction of the workroom. From his back pocket he pulled out his trusty marker. He couldn't use magic, exactly, because of the witnesses, but he could make it appear as though he'd taken a gun from the sports department. Things moved in slow-motion. Hanna crouched by the end of some shelves, and to his great misfortune, on of the cashiers had caught sight of him. It was Dallas - a teen Hanna was anything but a friend to. He stared wide-eyed as Hanna covered his arm (which Dallas thought would be holding a gun) and took aim. Before he was spotted, Hanna shot a little concentrated bullet-sized burst of magic at one of the buglars.

To his astonishment, he got him in the chest, and the criminal went down, holding his body and screaming. Hanna knew he had to try and hit as many of them as he could. He pointed and aimed again, bang. He hit one's knee, and the man toppled to the ground in agony. Then they realised where he was. Frantically spraying bullets now, Hanna's hand had begun to shake too much to be able to hit anyone else. He came close a few times, but he knew it was over. But he kept firing as they ran towards him, but someone from behind him yanked him up by the collar. He hadn't expected that. Hanna grabbed at his uniform, which had begun to act as a noose. He kicked his legs desperately, with no success, as the other two criminals strode towards, grins on their faces.

"You think you're cute, huh, kid? Thought you'd save the day? Lemme tell you somethin', Superman, we're not fuckin' around. Hope you had fun playing hero, kid."

The tallest burglar spat in his face, and the one behind him handed him one of their comrades guns.

"That punk killed Jack...And Garrett can't walk."

The other burglar, who was aparently the brains of the operation, spun around to meet Hanna's eyes. He looked pretty pissed.

"Ya'here that, kid? You killed Jackie. Cracker Jack. He's dead! And so are you."

Despite his struggle to keep breathing, Hanna closed his eyes tight. He didn't want to watch himself die. He couldn't believe it was over - what a dumb mistake to make! Why didn't he call the police! His phone was in his pocket. Hanna felt a great weight fall through his heart and into his stomach. Laurie was alone, now, because he'd made another mistake, and no one could fix it. Not Worth, not Lamont, nobody. He couldn't imagine his name in the Obits. He couldn't imagine his own funeral. He began shaking, and he realized he'd started crying. Tristan would have to watch him be put into the ground. What would his best friend think? He couldn't imagine, he didn't want to.

It's not like he had a lot of time to, anyway. He vaguely felt two bullets ripple through him - one in his chest, the other in his knee. Then more sounds, even though Hanna couldn't see. Gunshots went off all around him, and it came to mind that now they were slaughtering everyone in the store. Hanna let his face meet the floor, and he opened his eyes. His glasses had fallen off some time ago, but past the blurriness, past three or four aisles, he saw a bit of yellow peeking out from a door. A door that was a little too close to the workroom. Wasn't that single-mom's hair blonde? Hanna watched with blank confusion as she flung herself from the door, waving her arms. Was she trying to get herself killed?

Then people crowded him. Hanna felt his phone go off in his pocket, but through the blinding pain, he couldn't move. Someone got it for him. He could vaguely hear what was being said on the other end.

"Hanna? Hanna! I just turned on the news - the police are there, are you okay! They won't let me come in and get you, Hanna! Answer me!"

He knew who's voice it was, but the pain and the contempt and the worry twisted it beyond recognition. Hanna couldn't stop shaking. He wanted to answer, he really did. But when he opened his mouth to call his friend's name - any name - all that came out was a jumbled mess of syllables. From above him, two policemen glanced at eachother worriedly before the one on the left darted from the scene, presumably to call an ambulence. The other worked to calm Hanna down, who was shaking and crying uncontrollably.

"Son? It's okay, calm down, we'll get you out of here."

This was hardly soothing. Hanna would be sent to a hospital. They would see his chest. With this realization, and the burst of adrenaline that followed, Hanna turned his arm and lifted it as much as he could.

"Ph-phone. P-please..."

The officer hesitated. But he pressed the phone into Hanna palm after turning it on speaker.

"G-get Worth h-here, n...now. D-don't let them take m-me to the hospital."

It was all he could say. He didn't even have time to listen to the response. Dark clouds of exhaustion passed over his eyes, and for once in his life, sleep came easy to Hanna.

That was a little faster than I thought it would be, herp. Don't worry, I didn't throw all the action into the first chapter. There'll be more!

Please tell me what you think!