Runners. The term had crossed my mind once or twice. "Like a messenger?"
"Kind of," Said Leigh, a thin girl with thin red hair and wire-rimmed glasses. "Have you ever gotten a letter, or an e-mail?"
"Yeah, why?" I yawned.
"Have you noticed the little insignia at the bottom?" Leigh asked, holding up a ratty piece of paper with a hand-drawn insignia on it.
"It's like, a Blues badge or something." piped up Blade, flipping his dark hair out from over his eyes.
"This thing means the message has been inspected and censored." Pick scowled, cracking her knuckles.
"So a Runner's job is to deliver messages, uncensored. So people can get some real information in this God-forsaken city." Ryan concluded.
"But what does my mother have to do with all of this?" I asked. Nothing seemed to tie together.
"Your mother... Was one of the best runners of all," Blade said quietly, staring at one of the many tattoos on his arm. "Faith Connor is a legend."