They were out there. Terrance. Boogie Gus. She'd say Scam too but that was probably her brain rotting while she wasted her life away.

They were out there and she couldn't even do anything about it. The thought upset her more than she could ever put into words. She chewed on her lower lip.

Dammit couldn't WOOHP keep their fucking criminals behind bars for once? For a so called high tech agency, too many criminals escaped their bars easily. Now they were out there, probably near her area and when they saw her, what was she supposed to do? Beat them up and tie them for WOOHP to find and put back in jail? Sure, why didn't she just go paint a fucking target on her head? It would make finding her easier.

They'd connect the dots: Sam went to Harvard, and now there was a vigilante rounding up in Cambridge. They'd find her in seconds. She didn't want that. She thinks.

She sighed, tapping her foot on the ground while she stared at the bleak walls of her apartment.

She could feel the days passing by slowly and slowly, and in the midst of her silent torture all she could think about was the fact that her life was going nowhere.

What am I doing?

A year ago she'd be able to list off everything she wanted to do in life, (become a doctor, build a hospital in a third world country, and once Jerry even hinted that he wanted her to become head of WOOHP—hah obviously that's a joke now), and now she couldn't even remember why she kept breathing.

A packet of cigarettes lay innocently next to her, but the small white rolls were thrown around her bed when she had thrown it down in blind anger an hour ago when she got home. The sight of those criminals was burned in the back of her mind, and she wished she could scratch those images off her brain. She was sick of this. Sick of pretending to have some kind of life, sick of pretending to be normal, sick of living in the past, sick of pretending and telling herself that nothing was wrong with her even though she could feel the folds of sanity slipping by her each day… sick of pretending in general.

Sam raised her hand to her mouth unconsciously and starting to bite her nails five minutes after tapping her toes incessantly on the ground wasn't satisfying her need to fidget.

Buzzbuzzbuzzbuzzbuzz

The vibrations of her phone against her chest made her jump before she realized where the vibrations were coming from. Curiously looking at her phone, (because she really didn't talk to many people; who the hell was calling her?) she picked it up and put it next to her ear.

"Sam? It's Laura."

"Oh, hey", she said, trying to make her voice stop sounding like she was a paranoid criminal waiting for WOOHP to find her any second now. "What's up?"

"I know this is last minute, and I'm really sorry, but can we switch shifts today please?"

Sam exhaled a breath of relief. Good. Something to do. She had already re-read her textbooks to the point of memorization and trying to take a nap was a joke at this point, and so she had been sitting and thinking, but sitting and thinking kept making her remember how much of a failure at life she was.

"Sure", she said, hoping she didn't sound too happy.

"Oh my God THANK YOU", she said with an air of excitement. Sam was about to say thank you when Laura jumped into a different topic, "See, there's this guy who comes to the diner, you know the tall one, black hair, brown eyes, orders the same thing every day—oh you know who I'm talking about. Well he asked me out and—"

Sam found herself tuning Laura out. It wasn't like she didn't like Laura, she did. It's just … what does that kind of stuff matter anymore. People love you and trust you and you do the same for them and then when you're turned around they take a metaphorical knife and stab you in the back when things don't go their way. People aren't trustworthy. They betray. What good is loving someone if there's always a chance that they'll tear you away from everything you love later? All because you let them into your life in the first place?

"—So thank you SO much Sam. I owe you big time."

"Sure", Sam said in a small voice. "See you later."

She hung up and then the room got darker and more silent. Maybe tuning out Laura was a bad decision. At least there was somebody happy in her life. Even if it wasn't her. Even if it seemed like it would never be her. Listening to someone's good fortune made her stop remembering how alone she was, at least, for a few minutes.

Then it came back. Crawling like a monster and eating away at her soul.

She wasn't sure how much more of this she could take.

She sat there quietly for five more minutes because the need to just go out and do something wasn't in her blood. Eventually she slowly stood up, changed her clothes, grabbed her keys and phone and left.

It happened when she was at the diner. She was just cleaning up a few tables, getting some orders, when she heard the news on the small TV located in the diner for the customers to watch.

Her ears picked up the words that slowly engraved themselves into her mind. A mass breakout. Criminals. Beverly Hills, California.

Criminals. In Beverly Hills.

"Shit", she whispered under her breath, and turned around to face the TV. 'WOOHP.' There was Jerry, giving a press conference on how the agency was going to round up all the criminals they could find. They had already gathered 120 of them. The other 290 were still out there. Pictures of the criminals could be found online as well as the ongoing list that was being played on the TV. Names, pictures, height, general descriptions. If anyone saw these criminals, they should report them to the police immediately. Avoid confrontations. Just call the police.

Sam felt her stomach collapse on itself as she watched the TV screen with wide eyes.

Once the shock died down and she had cleaned up a coffee spill that occurred when she dropped the cup, Sam felt the anger bubble and rise in her.

Those criminals, the cause of her exile, were out. Roaming free. Jerry had the gall to fire her and dump her into this lonely excuse of a life because she had helped a criminal escape once. Never mind the fact that she was trying to make sure he didn't die on her, because you know. That was against WOOHP protocol. You don't kill; you arrest. So she had taken him to his house to find the antidote. She was going to bring him back oh but no. She was seen aiding a criminal in his escape. She had to have been fired. Apparently that was Jerry being nice. He should have arrested her but instead he had given her the option to pack her bags and leave.

Jail would have been better than this miserable existence she called living.

So now what was this? How could Jerry not SEE the mass breakout happening? It wasn't five or so criminals who secretly escaped. This had to have been orchestrated by the entire prison, and Jerry missed it? HE was the one who was careless and let dangerous criminals roam around free, while SHE got stuck here, alone?

No. No, that was NOT fair. How DARE he let them escape?

How dare they escape in the FIRST place? If Scam hadn't escaped that night, she wouldn't even be here. There they went around, parading without a care, while she was stuck in this limbo.

She already saw three (two, she corrected in her mind) of them in this goddamn place; how did she know that LAMOS wasn't stalking her down now? Was that why three (two, TWO) of the members were seen here? Because they were close to finding her? They must have heard about her exile from WOOHP. They'd want revenge right? She was here, all alone without any weapons to protect herself all because of Jerry and his stupid decision making skills. Oh gosh was that why Clover and Alex were here? Because they knew she was here too? Or because LAMOS had situated their base here?

She felt the bile rise to her throat as her paranoia crawled into the edges of her mind.

She had to protect herself. What if they came after her? No, she knew they would come after her. They'd want nothing more than to kill her in her sleep.

Unless she got to them first.

Her hands felt clammy, and she put the remaining pieces of the broken ceramic cup into the garbage can before her shaky fingers took off her apron. She grabbed her bag, quickly told her boss that she wasn't feeling well, before sprinting out of the diner and back to her apartment.

As she walked quickly on the sidewalk all she could think about was how she could protect herself. If they came after her, were her fighting skills still up to par? Oh gosh she hadn't practiced her fighting skills since… nine months ago? After three months of pushing herself and trying to retain onto the good old days, Sam found that it only hurt her more to remember what she didn't have.

Was her window protected? If they came through the front door, would she be able to see them fast enough to get a weapon? Was her bed angled at a spot so that her back was protected at all times?

Was she even safe anymore?

She ran up the stairs and opened her door as quickly as she could and slammed it behind her, leaving it to shake in her wake. She threw her bag down and looked around her apartment frantically, before picking up a potted plant and putting it on top of the doorway, so if anyone opened it she would hear the pot crash. She turned around and locked her window, before placing a small ceramic figurine her mother had once given her on top of the window ledge, to serve the same purpose. Locking the door, she pushed her desk in front of the heating vent and pushed her bed near the corner so that she'd have a full view of anyone who tried to enter the apartment.

Finally she fell asleep with a knife sitting next to her on the bed.

Sam was walking down the street back to her apartment. She readjusted her shoulder bag with her textbooks in it before putting her hand in her pocket. She fingered the switchblade that she had kept with her at all times. It was better safe to be sorry though she had a few close calls in the past day or so, when Laura had almost found out about the knife, or when she was careless in class and almost let someone see it.

Her senses were on edge, on fire, and she tried to control the trembling of her hand as she held the switchblade. What were the chances that she'd walk into one of them? Like really. She would be fine. She used more dangerous weapons at WOOHP before, but those weren't designed to kill.

Well, neither was this switchblade, her brain reminded her. She ignored the thought.

She adjusted the strap of the bag again before feeling something was amiss. Looking inside her bag, she groaned as she realized she had left a book in her class. She'd hope someone had found it and gave it back to the admissions office or something. Then she'd have a chance of getting it back.

Reluctantly she turned back around and started walking back to the campus. Dammit she was almost home too. Eyeing an upcoming alleyway, Sam smirked as she remembered a shortcut from here to the campus that would cut her travel time in half.

Pulling a strand of her behind her ear, Sam continued to stroke the switchblade, trying to get used to it and to push her fear away. She had dealt with lasers and grenades and weapons of mass destruction; she could deal with a little knife. Besides, it was for protection. They could be after her… any of them, and what was she supposed to do? Let them kill her? Let them win?

She'd be damned if she let them get away with it. Not after the way they ruined her life. She wouldn't stand for it.

Her book was sitting at her desk, right where she left it. She breathed a sigh of relief before putting it back in her bag. She had a test in two days.

On her way back home, she had taken the shortcut again because her feet were starting to hurt. At least she didn't have a shift tonight. She walked down the darkened streets, her finger clutching her knife like it was the Holy Grail, and kept an eye out for any criminals who might have been out there, watching her. Waiting for her to slip up.

Get them before they get you.

Sam inhaled deeply, before biting her lip at how long it was taking her to get home. Did she miss a turn? It was possible; she didn't take this shortcut often because it was an unfamiliar part of town, but … she should be fine. She was a former spy. And worse came to worse… she had her knife.

She wouldn't be afraid to use it. She bit her lip anyway.

She walked for another five minutes in silence, keeping her eyes downcast as the sky grew darker and darker until it turned pitch black, when she heard it. The sound of something crashing into an aluminum garbage can, and they way it cursed at itself for being clumsy told her it wasn't just an animal.

Her senses were on high alert again. She clutched the switchblade closely.

It could be nothing. Just some … homeless guy. Something. It wouldn't necessarily be a criminal; what were the chances that out of 290 criminals, one of them just happened to be in Cambridge?

Remembering how she saw two criminals in the past week, Sam wanted to hit herself for just making the situation worse.

She walked by as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself, but the moonlight hit the area just right and she saw an afro. Her heart started pounding in her chest and she couldn't breathe.

'SHIT!'

"Well…" he said, looking at her curiously with a growing smile. Apparently the moonlight hit her as well because he could see her too. Sam straightened up. "Look what we have here."

She glared at him, "Dumpster diving? I bet being a low class criminal does that to you." She had to get out of here. If she fought him, which she was sure she could do, after all this was just Boogie Gus, no real threat, then she'd have to … capture him? Call WOOHP? She inwardly snorted; that was going to happen any time soon.

She had to get out of here.

Boogie Gus frowned. "Look who's talking. You think I haven't heard about your recent crime streak?" Sam kept her face impassive but inside her gut was squirming.

He grinned. "It was all over WOOHP. Just wait until I tell everyone that the goodie-two-shoes", he laughed at that, "Is hiding here. Defenseless. And not even Jerry will come to your rescue! He doesn't happen to like criminals", he said with another bark of laughter.

Sam felt herself pale. Oh God. He couldn't tell anyone else she was here. They'd slaughter her in her sleep. She felt her gut squirming more and more and her stomach doing flips and her hands turning clammy and shaky but she couldn't let him see that. She couldn't let him, any of them, see that she was weak. She had to protect herself.

"And then they'll come here…", he grinned more, his smile looking more evil in the moonlight, "And when you call Jerry, he won't even answer your call."

She had to protect herself. She had to. They would kill her, oh God they would kill her and as much as she hated to admit it, Boogie Gus was right. Jerry wouldn't answer her call. He didn't want anything to do with her; that much was obvious when he kicked her out of her own life. Now all those criminals were out and now Boogie Gus knew where she was and they hated her. Hated her for imprisoning them. She had to protect herself; she had to get away from Gus and she had to stop him from blabbing his stupid mouth off. She couldn't let him do it. Criminals already ruined her life; she wouldn't let them do it again.

He sent a kick her way but she grabbed his leg in mid air before flipping him over.

She wouldn't let them ever hurt her again.

He grabbed her leg and pulled her down to the ground, making her crash onto the floor. He sent a punch into her abdomen and Sam felt air leave her lungs rapidly.

This couldn't be the end. She'd be damned if she lost against them. They did this to her and she was going to make them pay.

She grabbed the other arm that was heading towards her neck and tightened her grip on his wrist, harder and harder until she bent it sideways as harsh as she could, ignoring his scream ("You bitch!") when she heard the crack. She couldn't let that stop her. He was going to kill her. And if he didn't, he would get the rest of his buddies to do it. He had 289 criminals on his side; any of them could be more than qualified to kill her. She couldn't face all of them alone… but she didn't have a choice. She was alone. She didn't have anyone to fall back on, and if she met her demise it would be her own damn fault.

She had to win. She had to beat him. She had to protect herself. She had to protect herself.

She had to protect herself.

With his wrist broken Sam sent another kick his way and sent him flying into the brick wall. His moans did nothing to stop her. She had to save herself or she would die. No one would be coming to her rescue; she was responsible for her own life. She had to stop Gus or she would be dead before the week was over.

He got up when she wasn't watching him and slammed head into a wall. She felt her surroundings spin but she didn't let it stop her. It was only when she felt his good hand wrap tightly around her throat and squeeze tightly did she take out the knife.

He didn't see it coming. Surprise was on her side. That was the one rule of WOOHP training; always have the element of surprise on your side.

She just pushed the knife into his skin without thinking; it took three stabs for him to let her go, and a fourth stab for him to collapse onto the floor in a crumpled heap.

Sam blinked before walking away, the clouds moving away and the moonlight coming back again, showing her exactly what she had done to protect herself.

Oh God…

She felt the bile rise to her throat but gulped to keep it in. She looked around rapidly; no one was there. No one had seen this. No one had seen his bloody body dying on the floor.

She should call the police. She should get him help. One look at her bloody hands and the bloody knife told her that was a bad idea; WOOHP already saw her in a bad light. If they found out she accidentally killed a person, who knows what they'd do to her.

Besides… an eviler part of her mind thought. If Gus was alive, he'd tell everyone, those criminals, that she was here in this city. The fact that she broke his wrist and stabbed him four times would only make him angrier. He'd tell… Terrance, Scam, maybe even Jerry, who had more than enough resources to find her and turn her world upside down again.

She had to protect herself.

Sam looked back at him and after a few moments of hesitation, turned around to walk away… If Gus was meant to survive, then he'd live. Someone would find him in time. If he wasn't meant to live, then she would get to live a little bit longer. She had to survive against them. They were criminals; they wouldn't dare play fair. So why should she?

Besides. The last time she had helped a criminal, her life was taken away from her like that. She still wishes to hang out with her friends; she still wishes to have a real home to live in; she still wishes to be a spy and help the world get rid of criminals. She had nothing. She was nothing. She was a failure.

She couldn't let them walk all over her again. This time, she was in charge.

I know; not much Scam in this chapter. BUT I'll make it up to you guys by having a LOT of Scam in the next chapter, but only if you guys review! :D BUT a huge thing happened in this chapter, so please tell me what you think!

Love,
Ivy