Author's Note: Hello friends, it's me again, back with a brand new story. This one is... well, it's going to be a lot darker and more fucked up than Second Chances are Stronger than Secrets, and will also involve original characters created specifically for it. There won't be any self-insertion or Mary Sues/Gary Stues or anything like that; I plan on making each character complex and engaging, despite the sci-fi/fantasy themes of the story itself. I hope you enjoy! ;A;


The barefoot little girl slinks quickly and quietly through the warm night, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as she wills herself to stay calm. She's afraid, so very afraid, but it's only a matter of time before someone figures out she's gone and signals the alarm; if she can't find a way out of the compound before then, it's likely she won't be able to make it out at all.

She ducks behind a storage shed when she hears voices coming from behind her, holding her breath while she stays as still as she can. She has to fight the urge to look around the corner, knowing that all it would take to ruin her chance to escape is a single guard catching sight of her and alerting the others. The thought of that happening, of them finding her and dragging her back to her cell... it terrifies her. She can't let that happen. She can't let them take her back there - no. She won't let them take her back there, back to where the guards push her around and the scientists poke and prod at her, stabbing her with needles before ordering her to do things that make no sense at all. There used to be other test subjects, children like her picked up off the street and promised a soft bed and a warm meal. She doesn't know what happened to them; it's as if they just disappeared, one by one, until she was the only one left.

When the voices have faded and the girl is absolutely certain that it's safe to move again, she heads for the main gate. She knows the guard stationed there tonight; he's lazy, easily distracted, and slow, hired more for his intimidating size and muscle strength than any actual security qualifications. If it was anyone else on duty, she'd be worried - but she sneaks past him without so much as a glance in her direction, slipping under a gap in the electric fence just large enough for a child her size to fit through without touching it.

The moment she's both free and certain that the coast is clear, she breaks into a run and doesn't stop until the compound is completely out of sight. Only then does she finally take a minute to rest, gasping for air as she tries to think of what to do now that she's out. The roads seem to stretch forever in every direction; she has no idea how to tell which way is safe and which way isn't, and there are no signs to help her figure out which one to take... but she does know that she can't stay here, the chance that she might be able to find her way to safety overpowering her fear of the unknown.

It's then that the girl sees the lights flashing in the distance, too high to be a car but too low to be a plane - unless, she realizes, the plane is in the process of landing. If that's the case, that means that there's likely to be an airport nearby; if she could somehow manage to get herself onto a plane heading out of the country, her chances at survival would raise considerably. Hope giving her a much-needed energy boost, the barefoot little girl begins to walk.


"Yes, I do in fact understand that you do not have the required resources to finish preparations before the end of the week. What I do not understand is why you are on the phone with me and not our supplier... well, of course he's going to charge extra, it's last minute. I'll handle the approval, just make sure you file the proper paperwork with accounting." The well-dressed businessman hangs up the phone and runs a hand through his pale-blonde hair. It has been an incredibly long day; he was supposed to go home hours ago, but it's almost as if every single last one of his employees simultaneously decided to forget how to use their brains, leaving him both frustrated and with very, very little patience.

The door to his office opens and his head of security steps in, a look on his face that tells the man that he isn't going to like what he has to say. "Sir, there's been an emergency."

Of course there has.

Sighing, he waves him in. "What is the nature of this emergency?"

"We've received an alert from the compound, sir. It appears that the final test subject has somehow managed to escape."

The man's eyes narrow, his lips curling into a frown. "Has she, now?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long has she been missing?"

"A few hours now, as far as we can tell. Maybe more."

"Any leads on where she might be?"

"Security footage shows her boarding an international flight at the county airport."

"She made it that far? I'm actually impressed. Do we know the flight's destination?"

"It is currently scheduled to land at Narita International Airport at around 3am our time, sir."

"Has the Tokyo branch been alerted?"

"Yes, sir. They have agents en route."

"Excellent. Have their head of ops contact me immediately. Anything else to report?"

"There's a call for you from the director, sir."

"Fantastic." The man sighs once more, rubbing his temples. "Patch him through."

"Yes, sir."

"And bring me a coffee, while you're at it. Six sugars, four creams. With whip. "

"Yes, sir." The head of security nods respectfully before exiting the office. The man's call-waiting flashes a few seconds later; he picks up the phone immediately, a sour smile on his face.

"Hello, father dearest. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I have a job for you."

"Is that so? What kind of job?"

"The kind you're best at. Officially, you're to go to Japan in order to assist their agents in locating the missing test subject."

"And unofficially?"

"Our friends at Nebula have sent us a list of potential candidates for testing. In the case that the girl can not be recovered alive, she will need to be replaced."

"And it's up to me to find her replacement, I assume?"

"You assume correctly."

"Very well. I'll head out at once."

"See that you do." There's a 'click', and the line goes dead. The man sighs one last time, pressing a button on his intercom.

"Security."

"Is my coffee ready?"

"Not quite, sir."

"When it is, bring it to me in a thermos instead of a mug. I have a flight to catch."

"Yes, sir."

The man releases the intercom button, shutting his laptop computer so he can slip it into its leather case. He's always wanted to visit Japan; his favorite sushi restaurant may be an excellent way to curb his craving, but authenticity is not one of its best qualities. Grabbing his jacket from off the coat rack, he slings it over his arm and heads out the door.