February 16, 2170

Vancouver, Canada

Earth, Sol System

Russell was running.

He pumped his arms furiously in cadence with his heartbeat, which beat swiftly not only from exertion but from acute panic. He risked a quick glance behind him to gauge the distance between him and his pursuers. The older boys behind him swore at him, but showed no signs of exhaustion as they trailed after him. Their large lumbering strike closing the distance between them and the smaller boy.

"Come back here, you little fuck!" Spat the frontrunner in the hunting pack.

Russell flinched and pumped his arms quicker as he returned his gaze forward. He did so just in time to see the corpse of a dog that lay in the street, mouth agape. Large insects climbed in and out of its mouth and empty eye sockets. Russell grimaced at the sight, the smell of decaying flesh entering his nose. He tried to bound over it, but he fell short of his mark and his barefoot clipped the ribs of the mutt. He sprawled forward, landing hard on the pock marked roads. His head cracked against the gravel as the wind was pushed forcefully out of his lungs.

He would have stayed on the ground for minutes, gasping desperately, if not for the sounds of whooping and pounding feet behind him. He scrambled up, not risking another glance back, and began his terrified flight once more, now with a pronounced limp. The scene played out in the near deserted streets of urban Earth. The crowded slums were known for gang violence conducted by the many orphaned youth. Russell made fleeting eye contact with the homeless and the poor, but they just stared back, their blank eyes devoid of mercy. This was routine, they would not risk their safety for some slum rat. Instead, they shrank into the shadows and went about their days. They were seemingly oblivious to the boy's dilemma.

Desperation rose up in Russell's fiercely beating heart as the burning sensation in his lungs intensified. His breath left his lungs in short, painful gasps. His breathing too quick, trying to compensate for the lack of oxygen in his muscles. His stomach turned as he noticed the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. It dripped in from some unknown source. He pressed two fingers against his temple, they came away covered in his dark blood. His eyes widened and he looked down to see that his once grey shirt, that was too large due to his skinny frame, was now turning a dark crimson with his blood.

He swallowed thickly, feeling light headed at the realization of his gushing head wound. He stumbled, and hitched up his sagging pants. He could hear the ragged breathing of the three boys behind him. The hair on the back of his neck stood at end. He rounded a corner and entered a narrow alleyway. He heard the scuffle of feet as they made the sharp turn and entered the alleyway behind him only moments later. They were so close, he wasn't getting anywhere. He had to fight.

Immediately, he dropped to the ground and rolled backwards in the direction of the bigger boys. As he rolled, he felt the impact of two pairs of shins against his shoulder and hip, and heard them cry out as they crashed to the ground. Like a spring, Russell stood and pivoted to his left, where the last boy was standing. He'd gotten over the initial shock of the young thief's sudden movement and was now crouching in a fighting stance. He flashed him an ugly grin, his rotting teeth poked out of his gums in random directions. He charged Russell clumsily, fists clenched. The bully was ungainly, and slow, Russell easily dodged him as he reared back his fist and swung at his face.

While the older boy still had forward momentum, Russell stepped forward and rammed his knee into his groin. The boy released a sharp whine as he fell forward a few feet, holding his unmentionables. Without even sparing him a backwards look, Russell whirled around to face other boys behind him. They were standing, brushing the gravel off their pants. Dirt smeared their faces as they narrowed their eyes at him. The larger boy spat and stepped forward.

"You should have just stayed at home, asshole." He said. His voice sent a chill through Russell's spine. But he stared the thug straight in the eye.

"Fuck off, Bruce." Russell said, taking a cautionary step back. "I told you I didn't even do nothing!"

"You think just because you're only a little tyke we won't do nothin' to you. But if you steal from us, you die." He shrugged indifferently, a smile crossing his face. The other boy stepped forward, and tapped Bruce's shoulder. Bruce looked down and grinned cruelly as the other boy pulled a thin, rusty knife from his belt.

"Let me handle this. Trust me, this brat won't be bothering us again," Bruce nodded at the boy and stepped to the side, bowing sarcastically. Russell didn't move as the boy with the knife known as Connor approached him. He was crouched down, his left foot was back and held most of his weight. He was ready to propel himself forward if Russell ran. But, Connor seemed entirely at ease. He took his time approaching Russell, side shuffling, his dark eyes never leaving Russell's petrified green ones.

Connor walked leisurely until he was only a foot away from Russell. Russell tilted his head to continue looking the older boy in the eyes. Even though he was only three years older than Russell, he still stood a full head taller than the little pickpocket. Connor's eye twitched in irritation when Russell didn't hightail it and run. Connor obviously loved the chase, his long legs, though thin from his living conditions, had served him well in the chase. The only thing that had kept him away from Russell was the amount of adrenaline Russell's adrenal glands were pumping out into his small body. Russell knew that this encounter would most likely be his last. His nostrils flared as his breathing deepened. Tunnel vision set in as the sides of his vision blurred. He flexed and unflexed his hands in a nervous tick as Connor stared him down. His fight or flight responses were in full throttle, but he wasn't going to run.

Seeing that he wasn't going to get a response out of the red-headed boy, Connor turned towards his gang leader. Bruce gave a short nod of encouragement, giving Connor a small smile. Connor, satisfied that his had his leader's approval, raised the knife and brought it down towards Russell's chest. Russell let Connor put his entire body weight into the downward swing, before knocking his hand away at the wrist. Not expecting this from the cornered boy, Connor stood stunned for a few moments. Russell took this opportunity to punch him square in the jaw. Connor's head snapped to the side, and by the time he had righted himself, Russell was running.

"You little fuck!" Connor screamed to Russell's fleeing form, holding his face with both hands. Bruce heaved a sigh stepped forward. He cast a disapproving look over to Connor as he picked up his subordinate's dagger. When Connor met his eyes, Bruce sneered.

"I have to do everything around here," and then he chased after the fleeing form of grime and fiery red hair.

Russell turned sharply into an adjoining alley way, stumbling over a protesting homeless man. The sharp smells of piss and liquor filled his lungs as he threw himself down the narrow alleyway. He heard a single set of footsteps behind him, and from their character he didn't even have to turn to know who was in pursuit of him. Bruce was a hulking boy for only being fourteen. He was the product of good breeding, with square shoulders and large, hulking feet. It was a mystery how a boy like him ended up on the streets, but all Russell wondered about him was how stay away from him and his hencemen. He normally didn't do his own dirty work, but Russell was a serious nuisance to their little operation.

Bruce and his small gang of young misfits lived in an abandoned warehouse in the flooded district. This is where they brought back all their stolen goods and slept fitfully during the day. Normally they had nothing to worry about, they were ignored. The young boys grew content with their relative good fortune. The flooding caused all the residents to crowd into the dry part of the slums, so most of the crime followed. But the boys were scavengers; they climbed the rooftops in search of loot long left behind.

Russell reached the edge of the alleyway and searched desperately for some escape. In the short time Bruce had been chasing him, he'd already cleared half the distance between the two of them. Russell breathed hard as his head frantically snapped from left to right, until he spotted something that made his heart flutter hopefully.

A drainage pipe was attached to the side of a worn down building. Water sputtered out of the end lazily, emptying it's contents into the street. Russell sprinted towards it, expelling the last of his energy reserves. He made a running jump towards the pipe, hands slipping until he found his footing on the building. Though he was small and thin, Russell excelled at something that had helped him survive on the streets for years. He was excellent at climbing. He shimmied up slick pipe, ignoring the sludge that coated his hands. He climbed three stories in this fashion, his muscles cried out from the exertion, but the adrenaline kept the worst of it at bay.

He reached the top of the apartment complex and threw himself on the roof. Beside him, skycars sped by, oblivious to the boy's plight. Gasping, Russell crawled towards the edge of the roof where he had come. Ignoring the stabbing pain in his lungs, he peered over to check Bruce's progress. At first, he couldn't believe what he was seeing, Bruce and his two followers were both scaling the building. Instead of using the drainage pipe, they used the windows and grooves that the building provided. It was not a very quick passage up to where Russell was catching his breath, but they'd still be on him soon.

As Russell peered over the edge, He saw the third thug loose his footing on a loose piece of brick. He let out a yelp of surprise, grabbing at the building desperately for something to hold him. He fell backwards, and tumbled twenty feet to the ground. Russell didn't watch the boy hit the ground, but he heard a sickening crunch that cut off his screams.

"Isaac!"

"Forget about him! Get that little shit!" Bruce barked the order to Connor who obeyed immediately. Connor looked up at Russell, his eyes shone with tears for the fallen boy and more importantly, hate. Russell watched them for a few more seconds before turning away from them.

He stood and examined his surroundings. This was the tallest building on the block. The other buildings consisted of low squatting shacks that he wasn't completely sure would even hold his weight. The skycars sped by heedlessly, and his attention fell onto them.

He heard the blood pushing furiously past his ears as he backed up. He closed his eyes, slowing his breathing and heart rate. After he was able to quell the intense shaking in his arms, he opened his eyes and looked in the direction the skycars were coming from. They traveled at slow speed due to the traffic, hovering about ten feet away from the foot of the building Russell stood on. He could make the jump, but sticking the landing would be a different story.

But he had no choice. Pushing away all feelings of fear, he began sprinting towards the opposite end of the roof. He kept his eyes forward as he lengthened his small stride to assure that he was ready to jump once he reached the end of the roof.

Ten feet.

He spied a taxi curving around a corner and moving towards the traffic jam.

Five feet.

It slowed approaching as it approached traffic, stalling for a moment directly in Russell's path. Russell planted one foot on the edge of the building and pushed off. He sailed through the air briefly. His momentum carried him until something countered it. Rough hands grabbed at his long hair. They yanked him back forcefully. Russell felt blood pool over his scalp has his hair was torn from their roots. He yelped as he began falling, but the hand in his hair was joined by another that wrapped itself around Russell's arm and pulled him to the rooftop.

Bruce looked down at him, still holding onto the lose pieces of hair. He straddled Russell's waist, his cruel smile gone. He stared into Russell's eyes, the hatred in his eyes making the younger boy flinch. Bruce reared back his arm. Russell turned his head away from the incoming blow, but it did little to impede the force of the blow. Russell's head snapped back as a large fist made contact with the soft skin of his freckled face.

Russell's eyes began to water. He swallowed forcefully, but refused to cry. The pinned boy tried to rock his hips to dislodge the mammoth from his midsection. Bruce nudged barely a fraction of an inch. Russell brought his hands up to push Bruce off or to strike him. Bruce rolled his eyes and looked at him impatiently. "Connor," He barked, "Grab this kids grubby little mitts, he's getting my shirt dirty."

Immediately Connor trotted over from where he had been kneeling over, trying to catch his breath. He was not an example of a perfect physical specimen, but he had managed to survive in the slums by being extremely good at following directions, directions given by someone with a knack for oppressive leadership. Connor fell to his knees opposite of Bruce, and grabbed Russell's arms and spread them on his sides. Russell arched his back and screamed angrily. He felt like a cornered dog, they had no right to treat him this way.

Russell stared up at Bruce as he leaned in close. He put his mouth by Russell's flushed ear and whispered almost soothingly.

"You should have just let us kill you down on the ground, mutt. Now you're just going to wish you were dead." And with that, Russell heard the distinctive sound of a knife leaving a sheath. He waited for the stabbing sensation, his eye lids shut tight and muscles tensed in anticipation of the agony. But the next thing he felt was the weight being thrown forcefully off of him, accompanied by the sound of a startled squeal. Russell's eyes opened wide as he scrambled to his feet. Ignoring the intense dizziness accompanied by this movement, he looked around until his eyes found where his assailants had gone.

He spied the crumbled form of Connor lying on his stomach. The boy made no visible movement but his body was still rigid. Russell felt the bile rise up in his throat as his eyes fell on the large lump present in Connor's forearm. A meaty crunch made Russell pivot around quickly. What he saw then he would never forget until the day his life ended abruptly and tragically.

A slender teenager stood a few feet from Bruce, her hands up in a defensive pose as she circled him. She was the same size as Bruce, but much thinner and lighter. Her movements gave way to a certain agility that one could never learn; you simply had to be born with it.

Bruce stood with his hand cradling the side of his jaw. It hung open either in shock or because the mysterious woman had dislocated it from the joint. She jabbed at him, aiming for his already injured face. The injured teenager blocked it easily with one hand, and used the one he had been using to cradle his injury to launch a counter attack. She was ready for this however. Sidestepping, she dodged the blow easily. While he was still stuck in a forward motion, she grabbed his forearm and pulled him forward. He overbalanced and began to topple forward. She used this opportunity to drive her knee into the boys hallow stomach. She let him fall after that, gasping for breath like a fish out of water.

She turned away from him as her eyes locked onto the knife Bruce had been planning on using to gut Russell. Rearing back her leg, she kicked the rusty knife and sent it skittering off of the roof's edge. She turned back to Bruce. He had found the oxygen in his lungs and was moaning miserably. He had managed to get on his hands and knees while the girls back was turned. The girl walked towards him. Though her back was to Russell, her smile was evident in her voice. She was enjoying this.

"Night,night," she said sweetly. Then, in a blur of motion, she kicked Bruce in the face. His head snapped to one side and his body followed suit. He landed on his back like a sack of potatoes, and did not move. The woman stood, observing her handiwork. She turned slowly, her eyes scanning the roof until they locked onto Russell's. Every fiber of Russell's body flared up, in a vain attempt to get him to run. But instead Russell's eyes decided to roll upwards, maybe to admire the sky, he didn't know8i. His knees buckled. all was well, he was tired of standing anyway. He felt his body hit the ground, but then he didn't feel anything else. Which was a relief, his head was pounding.

Russell opened his eyes, then immediately shut them when the room started spinning. A quiet groaned escaped his lips as he brought his small hand up to his throbbing forehead. He was lying flat on his back on some padded surface. He turned on his side and used a shaky hand to push himself into a sitting position. He tried again to open his eyes. His vision was blurry and the room swayed. He steadied himself while waiting for his vision to clear.

After a few minutes of vertigo, he peered at his unfamiliar surroundings. He was in a plain room with crumbling dry wall and a concrete floor. The only furnishing was in the form of two stained mattresses and concrete and dry wall chips scattered randomly across the floor. Dim light filtered in through a large window cut into the wall.

Russell stood, and padded over to the window. It was rimmed with the remnants of glass. Russell poked at the jagged surface as a cool breeze filtered through the hole. The breeze brought the familiar smells of smoke and body odor that was the urban slums. He felt the breeze skitter across his chest and looked down see it bare. He gasped, and grasped at his chest in disbelief. He brought his hand up to his forehead, and felt the rough bandages that covered his wound.

Attempting to disregard this, he squinted out the window and into the city's skyline. He tried to make sense of the view before him, but the setting sun obscured his vision. He decided that he should look down instead to gain his bearings.

He stuck his head out the window and looked directly down. He wagered he was at least seven stories up, too high to jump. The sidewalk below was devoid of pedestrians, save the homeless that slept in the gutters. Russell might pity them if they weren't one in the same.

Russell froze. A noise flittered up to his ears above the constant city rumble. He strained his ears. For a few seconds, he heard nothing. Believing that he had imagined it, he began to relax. Then, clear as day, he heard two voices, talking jovially. One made a sarcastic sounding remark, and the other responded with lighthearted laugher. He froze in place, he was cornered.

The conversation grew louder as it approached the door to Russell's back. He turned slowly to face it. There was no place to hide; he'd have to stand his ground. The door slowly opened, the rusty hinges causing it to groan loudly in protest to the motion. A girl poked her head into the room as she pressed her weight against the door. Her eyes were closed from as she strained. Her long brown hair was tied into a loose pony tail. Tendris of hair framed her smudged face. She let out a puff of air as she opened the door enough to snake through. That's when she saw Russell.

She paused for a few moments, eyes wide as she looked him up and down. Russell began preparing himself mentally for a fight. He eyed her levelly, trying to locate her weakness. Then to his surprise, she grinned widely at him. She turned to the form now entering the room and pointed his way.

"Abby!" she exclaimed, "Look who's finally awake." Russell turned his attention towards the other figure and felt his heart skip a beat as his eyes met the stranger's familiar eyes. The scrawny teenage girl stood behind the younger girl. Her green eyes matched his, but she did not share the smile of her friend.

Russell felt fear creeping up the back of his neck as the girl named Abby examined him. As he stared at her, the brunette moved towards him tentatively.

"How are you feeling?" She ventured hesitantly. Russell turned back to her. He guessed the girl was probably around twelve years old. She had long lanky legs of a developing woman but her face still glowed with youth and innocence. Through she wore an over sized T-shirt, he could see small budding breast that were in their early development. Her smile had fallen into a slight frown. Her brow furrowed as she stared at Russell.

Sudden movement made his eyes shoot back to the red-headed girl. She stared back as she pushed the metal door closed. She could be his sister, their resemblance was uncanny. Her red hair was darker than Russell's bright orange and cropped short. Her eyes were a vibrant green that shone with intelligence and tenacity. Russell knew she wasn't a foe to be reckoned with, perhaps it would be better to just be her friend. She broke off the stare to look back at her companion.

"You could cut the tension in this room with a knife." The girl named Abby finally spoke, throwing her hands up in exasperation. For the first time Russell noticed two things in the girl's hands. She noticed his gaze and spoke again.

"What? Oh, you want these? I guessed you'd probably want a shirt after you nearly bled out on the other one. And God knows where your shoes are. Do you know how many diseases you can catch running around barefoot?" She turned away from him and placed the folded shirt and tennis shoes on the mattress Russell had woken up on. "I'm just saying. Regardless of what is going on in that obviously pea sized brain of yours, I'm actually trying to help you." She turned to face him, her look of irritation made Russell feel a tad bit guilty. "So could you ease up a bit? We're all friends here. We're offering you a place to stay, if you chip in of course."

Lilly nodded to Abby and then looked to Russell. Her eyes pleaded with him as she gave him an encouraging smile. Russell looked between the two young women. It was undoubtable that Bruce had been planning to kill him after all the grief he'd caused him and his companions. Her savior could have easily turned a blind eye just as all the people did who he'd passed in that mad chase.

He'd been living on his own since he was five years old. The experiences he'd had taught him not to trust anyone, but he owed this woman his life. And with that he felt his defenses fall. He let out a long sigh and relaxed his shoulders, letting them slump forward.

"Yeah..okay." He said, staring at the ground. When he looked up, he saw that Lilly was grinning. He couldn't help it, her smile was contagious. He gave her a small crooked smile in response, which made her giggle brightly. She bounded over to him and held out her hand.

"M' name's Lilly, don't know my last name and I don't care. What's your name, Stranger?" He stared at her hand in confusion for a moment before understanding the gesture. He took her hand a bit unsurely and shook it slowly.

"Russell. I don't know my last name either. I'd like to think it's something badass though." His smile was genuine then, the girl's good nature rubbing off on him.

"I'm sure it is, Abby told me about how gave three boys older than you a good hurtin'." She pulled her hand away from Russell's grasp and scratched the back of her head. "Pretty badass if you ask me. Say, how old are you anyway? You don't look like you're much older than seven."

"I'm nine I think, I dunno really." Russell shrugged, he guessed he was sort of small. He did his best not to be offended by her words, she obviously meant well.

Lilly's already wide eyes somehow grew wider as she gawked at Russell. "Wow and you've been livin' all by yourself? I'd be dead if Abby hadn't found me when she did." She cast the girl a significant look.

Russell's eyes flickered over to his female doppelganger; she was slumped over in a corner, preoccupied with a task. She gave no indication that she was paying attention to their conversation. Still Russell lowered his voice as he spoke.

"Yeah, I guess I'd be sorta dead too if she didn't show when she did…" An uncomfortable silence lapsed after this. Russell shoved his hands in his pockets as he stared at a particularly interesting piece of concrete. A chilling breeze filtered through the window at his back and he shivered involuntarily. A slight shuffling sound made Russell turn his head. Abby padded over to him, holding a glass mug with both hands. She extended it towards him and Russell took it with a small word of thanks. He examined the water inside. It was clear with a slight yellowish tinge. He took a small experimental sip of the water. It tasted better than any water he had had in months. Then he noticed his thirst. Just as he was was just beginning to dump the contents into down his throat, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Slow down, Tiger," Abby said gently. Her eyes were soft as a small smile spread across her lips. "Just sip it, or you'll end up puking it on the floor." With that she turned around again and sat on the larger mattress. Lilly gave Russell a reassuring smile, and gestured towards the other mattress. With a small wave she padded over to her and lay on the side opposite of Abby, yawning and rubbing her eyes. Russell watched them as he sipped from his mug idly.

By now the sun had set below the horizon, and the light in the room was beginning to fade. He turned back to the window, and leaned his elbow onto the windowsill being careful to avoid the jagged glass. He stared into the uneven skyline, watching the skycars drift silently in the distance. The breeze ruffled his shaggy hair. The scene was serene but he couldn't help but fidget. Something about this whole situation was bothering him.

He turned his head towards Abby and watched her as she took out her concealed pistol and began to clean it diligently. He watched her for a few minutes, the soft clicking noises of her pistol filling his ears. Finally he cleared his throat and voiced what was irking him.

"Why?" She looked up from her work, and cocked her head.

"Whatchu mean, kiddo?" She said, her face unreadable.

"I mean, why did you save me?" He said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You could have just walked away and forgot you ever saw me, but you stuck your neck out for me."

She was quiet for a while, then she set her pistol down on the floor with a sigh. She smiled at him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She gestured to the window and began to speak.

"This place, this terrible fucking place, is shit. It smells like shit, it looks like shit, it's just SHIT." Russell stared at her, startled. Her humorless smile was replaced by a grimace. "This place, takes good things and chews them up and makes them shit too." She looked him in the eyes just then. "But you're not shit Russell, you're one of the only things out there that aren't. Good things like you don't last out there, you don't belong. You either die or become shit. I couldn't watch that happen again, I just…" She trailed off looking at the floor, her jaw clenched.

Russell waited for her to continue, but she did not. He set the mug down and lowered himself onto the mattress. He yawned and felt himself begin to drift off immediately. But one thing still pulled at his curiosity and kept him tethered to consciousness.

"Do you know your full name?" His muffled voice barely audible.

"Yeah, I do." She paused, letting out a long sigh. "It's Abigail Shepard."

"...That's a nice name..."

Russell slept.