Two of my best friends started this story. They took turns writing each chapter, and have given me permission to post it online, yay! The 3 of us developed the characters together, they wrote it, and I've edited it. They've given me about 7 chapters and I'll be writing them myself after that ^_^.

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Chapter Two

Keefe jogged up the cobbled streets of 1920 London. The fog curled around him, his long, double-buttoned jacket kept the cold out. He grinned cheerfully, his ears alert to any following footsteps. A red-haired girl loomed out of the fog. Keefe smiled flirtatiously and deftly sidestepped her. She smiled back, her bright blue eyes sparkled, and then she disappeared. He slowed down to a swagger and started to whistle. A well dressed gentleman nodded to him, passing him with a rapid walk. Keefe nodded back. Just out of hearing behind him, blue electricity lit up the fog – engulfing the man. Keefe ignorant of it, turned into a side street. He stopped suddenly; a group of men frozen in position stared back at him. "Um…hello, have any of you seen my cat? It's bright orange and perky looking?" Keefe smiled disarmingly. A man, wearing a cap and a coat with its collar flipped-up, turned toward him. "Not smart boy, should've run."

A weasel-y man fitted brass knuckles on as he smiled. His two front teeth were prominent. The big guy behind weasel pulled a wicked looking knife from an inside pocket. Behind them, in the crates they had been unloading, glass cylinders gleamed.

Keefe ran. The three men stood looking after him. "Speedy little guy." the capped man said. Weasel nodded sagely. The big man looked disappointed. Capped snapped his fingers, "After him."

Keefe could hear their following footsteps. The fog was thinner. His shaggy brown hair had droplets at the tips. His breath came out in a fine mist; he noticed this in a small part of his mind. His sister chased him randomly, but he didn't expect complete strangers to take such a violent dislike to him. Maybe he was uglier than he thought, he mused as he turned another corner. He stopped. The red-haired girl stood with one hand up, palm facing him. She said, "I'm sorry, but this must happen." Her voice didn't waver. Keefe noticed this with that small part of his mind as Weasel, Capped and Big Guy (the small part named them) piled on top of him. He also noticed that the girl was gone. She had vanished into the fog as if she had never been. Yep, definitely uglier then he thought. Keefe was hauled up; Big Guy twisted his arm behind his back.

"Easy, easy, this coat is genuine leather." Keefe cautioned. Weasel looked confused. Capped said, "Shut up, I don't like you. Maybe you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, I don't care. I'm going to enjoy this."

"That's what my sister says, along with 'Shut up big mouth', 'wrong move bro.', 'I wish you were a dog, and then maybe you'd listen'." Keefe babbled on, aware that the moment he stopped they would kill him. Why, was a question he had no answer for. (They didn't like his face perhaps?) "I, in all honesty, have no idea what she is talking about."

"What? Wait…no! Shut up! Stop talking! You're confusing things." Capped held up a knife threateningly. Keefe's eyes followed it.

Footsteps sounded on the cobble stones. Everything froze, Capped did and impressive vanishing act with his knife. A constable walked past. Big Guy tried to look surprised that Keefe's arm was in his hands. It would be funny, Keefe thought, if it wasn't serious. As soon as the constable disappeared, the knife was whisked out. Weasel sounded thoughtful, "Charlie, he doesn't sound British and…I think he's a traveler." Capped thought about this. "How did you find us!" he snapped at Keefe.

"Would you accept tourist?"

Capped said, "You just happened to be walking by. Yeah, I don't think so."

Weasel said, "We should find out what he knows."

"Damn, you're right." Big Guy looked unhappy. Keefe had that affect on people.