Warning; language. One word, just worse than I've used so far. And violence, but that's been seen before here.

In Which a Girl from Vegas Does a Lot of Running

Behind her, the gunshots rang loud and clumsily. They were trying to shoot through the stage, but they lacked a certain finesse (not that Nevada could do any better). Every bang was accompanied by the crunch of splintering wood, which was more reassuring than a clang of metal would be- they hadn't figured out to shoot off the lock. Yet. One foot then another slapped the brick floor of the trapdoor tunnel, Nevada forcing her way through quickly, despite having to crouch to fit.

If Bluetooth didn't get home free with that poor kid she had charged him with, she'd slap him. He was responsible for the whole damn situation anyway. She remembered in vivid detail the day he had been taken away. Nails had his arms twisted harshly behind his back, holding him steady as Caster accused him of arson and murder. Twisted, cold words that writhed from his mouth in black tendrils that stabbed into her heart, igniting the warmth she felt for Bluetooth into a forest fire of fury. It wasn't him, she had dared to scream. Why are y'all still listening to this horse crap? Laughter, from the mouth of every deranged fool in the room, was the only reply she was graced with. They knew. She hung her head, blinking away the tears, her brown hair collapsing over her face and hiding the single droplet that slipped from under her full eyelashes.

Not him. They couldn't make her alone again- she had lost her baby girl, but she had found Liza and Bluetooth. Now she had hidden Liza away from everyone, including herself, and she was going to lose him too. Her breathing was labored and her palms red from the force of her fingernails driving into them. Mouse, Bluetooth, Nevada. Liza, Jay and Sam. They didn't know her name, she realised, oh God, she would be alone and no one would remember her name. Clammy fingers gripped her chin with force and thrust it upwards painfully, tossing her hair off her face. They were staring at her, everyone, but the only eyes she saw were his. I'm sorry, she mouthed, trying to shake her head free of Caster's bruising grip. Bluetooth shook his head once.

The hatch was awkward and rusty, long out of use. One kick. Nothing. Another. Some budge. A third- there were no more gunshots. The hatch cracked. The slap of feet moved closer as she lined up a fourth kick. It broke through. Her leg hurt, her body ached and her stomach was trying to empty itself with every breath, but she ran. She'd find her Liza, she'd find her Jay, and they'd be alright. They'd be together, a family. Not in genes, but forged in tears, blood and mutual hatred.

Perhaps not the healthiest bonds, Nevada mused.

The room the hatch led into was lined with mirrors and dressing tables on three sides, with tacky posters and photographs plastered everywhere there was wall space to cover up the peeling magnolia tones. There were postcards attached to the mirrors, some signed and dated in slanted calligraphy; others in faded scrawl of barely-educated farm boys writing to their sweethearts. The oldest dated back to 1932. Nevada had read every single one of them, sitting in the room alone, grasping every second she could. Nobody ever powdered their faces in here anymore.

Nevada stood and before she ran, snatched a postcard from the mirror next to the hatch and folding it small, she slipped it into her boot. Yanking open the door she could see nobody in the corridor, but the yelling of the guards was louder as they began to catch up. The fire exit was a straight sprint from where she stood, the light filtering through the bold red 'EXIT' on the door seeming to be one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. It was her freedom.

Her chest burned for water and her sprint was impeded by the dead leg she had given herself cracking open the hatch, but she made it to the door without giving her persuers an inch. They were much larger than her, and their struggle through the tunnel would make for a few spare seconds for the brunette. It was only when she made it through the door that her heart skipped a beat. The door slammed behind her, leaving nothing between her head and the gun pointed at it.

"I just want you to know that this is personal. I could let you walk away and nobody would care. You have no passport, no cash, a lot of someone elses blood on you… You're no danger to us. But I'm not going to. Because you have been a royal pain in my ass ever since that kid met you."

Chapped lips pulled back in a feral snarl that made her skin seem even thinner, Set's eyes were alight with the pure joy of a predator with cornered prey. Nevada snorted, bravado rising to her defense in seconds.

"Ya ain't gon' give me a monologue, are ya? Ain't that the bit where tha villain gets killed?"

"Caster actually liked you, you know? Wanted to keep you around. Said that you'd be a valuable morale booster if they could just break you in. Guess that didn't work out." Set jabbed. She was trying so very hard to register emotionally. Nevada would not have it. She was the original silver-tongued word smith.

"Set, did ya choose ya own name?" Honey coated innocence coated her phrase; her voice would have better suited a pig-tailed little girl than the Amazonian it came from. Set blinked, confused at her flow being interrupted.

"Of course not. None of us did!" Her left hand twitched. Good- this was a question worth pursuing.

"Set the usurper, Egyptian God of chaos. Think he was gettin' at somethin there? Did he tell ya to wait here?" A gamble, a bet, all in. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. She was Vegas at heart and when she didn't have a casino to bet in she gambled with other things.

"I don't like what you're implying. I don't have to listen to this!" The gun started to shake. She touched a nerve. A nice, long finisher was all she needed.

"But ya will, because if I can figure it out, anyone can. He knew it, ya know. Right from tha start… Tha' you wouldn't do well with the power you want to take. This is his lesson to ya- look at the chaos. Bluetooth's gone, Set. He's off to see the wizard, the 'Caster' and he's gonna put a bullet in ya masters brain because ya couldn't keep control. So this is his way of sayin' 'back the fuck off' because you are some useless addict he plucked off the streets to teach a lesson. That's what he does, isn't it? He get a kick out of bein' better. He flaunts it by trying to improve y'all! He is a textbook egomaniac! And you've given him exactly what he wanted, like the dumb pup ya're."

The gun slipped in Set's hand, and Nevada lashed out with a kick to the kneecap, disarming the reptilian woman as she crumpled. Nevada executed her with one fast shot through her temple at point blank range Before Set had even hit the ground. It didn't exactly require a crack shot, she thought, turning and running as fast as she could, her persuers appearing into the corridor from the dressing room door.

SO I UPDATED! How's that? It's been a stupid long time and there are no excuses really :( This is entirely Nevada-centric for a reason- each character is going to have a chapter following them at this point because they have all split up and it's tension building (or at least that's the idea) :) Next is Bluetooth, and there will be a little bit of Liza and Caster in it too. Following that if all goes to plan, the guardians will meet Maggie :D It's about time XD

Also, a huge thank you to JustPlainOldMe and VampWolf92 for their reviews :)