Once again, it's another joyous day in Hometown, with cheer blanketing throughout the town. Lots of kids are out on the streets, celebrating the first afternoon of Midterm Break. No more pencils, no more books, at least not for another eleven days. One kid, however, took the day off. Indeed, she's anything but happy, lying in a thick hospital bed with an uncomfortable machine invading her airways. The scratchy sheets chafe her skin, leaving her restless in spite of the weakness imposed by all the painkillers. In front of her on a small table is a laptop computer, offering internet connectivity and a text to speech reader. Without it, she'd probably go mad from the loneliness and harshness of the hospital setting. Surrounding her amongst the machines and curtains are a lot of flowers and cards, all of them from students and teachers of the school. Most of the cards are just a little cynical, what with the teachers forcing the students to write them. She could care less about the cards, though. Her one wish is still unfulfilled.

"Jamie," a communication system near the girl starts, "We have another teacher from the school to see you."

"Lovely," the speech synthesizer quips after some typing. Visitors are starting to get on her nerves, what with most of them not really caring about her specifically. Her parents are the only people that have visited her so far that meant anything. Within less than a minute, a tall middle-aged man with brown hair walks in carrying a briefcase.

"Hello, Miss Lerquin," the man starts, moving some of the flowers off of a nearby seat, "I hope you're doing well."

"What the hell do you want, Mister Sell Ah Ki Ah?" the speech synthesizer asks after some more typing, fumbling the foreign name.

"Well," Selacia starts, pulling the seat up and sitting down, "I just wanted to tell you about how things are going in school. I see everybody pitched in flowers and get well cards like I asked."

"Where were you during that parade of fakeness?" the speech synthesizer asks.

"I wanted to talk to you alone," Selacia starts, "School policy doesn't allow me to tell anybody about what I've witnessed without the express permission of the board, something they're not likely to give me."

"Some good you're doing me," the voice synthesizer continues amidst the furious taps, "First, you make Emily run away and now, you're not telling the police about this?"

"I'm sorry about Miss Tennenbaum," Selacia starts, "I really didn't expect her to run away just because I called her out on goofing off. I have a job and I will make sure it gets done."

"You're a real asshole," the synthesizer responds, "Even I knew Dana gets away with everything. Threatening her will get me killed to shut me up."

"Oh, please," Selacia responds, "Systems this corrupt don't come about when people are total morons. Right now, you're just another victim of bullying. Nothing too exceptional and certainly not worthy of anything but a couple paragraphs in the local newspaper. However, should you die, all of the networks will be on your story faster than you can say 'news at eleven'. The FBI will get involved, followed by Internal Affairs. The conspiracy will crumble, Dana, her family, and the school board will be arrested, and the rest of the country will start employing even stricter regulations unlike those seen since Columbine."

"Columbine was a dozen students and a teacher," the synthesizer starts, "What makes you think that a lonely girl like me will cause this?"

"You haven't been listening," Selacia starts, "You would only be the start of it. You'd be the martyr of a greater cause. The school is so thoroughly corrupt, you could never appreciate it. As a teacher, I get to witness the full force of it every single time I bring up an issue. However, it's a flimsy conspiracy. From what I can tell, it has no mob connections. Not yet, anyway. It's just a bunch of corrupt bureaucrats mooching off of government grants. It wouldn't survive under a microscope. This story has the perfect level of sensationalism for the media and the fact that it's a girl fatally attacking another girl would be a pretty big hook. Who has ever heard of such brutal violence amongst girls? In other words, you can be assured that the Billett family will do whatever it takes to keep you in good health."

"Just go away," the synthesizer responds.

"Please," Selacia starts, "I know you hate me. I'm an authority figure, after all, and this certainly isn't what I expected to be treated like when I graduated from Island City college. However, I am on your side. I wasn't just bullying Miss Billett when I said I would go to the ends of the earth to bring her to justice. I might have even jumped the gun a little when I sent an anonymous email to Michael Moore asking about the hypothetical situation, but he still hasn't responded. I'd much rather not involve him, though. He's a bit, I don't know... overzealous."

"I thought you were never in Island City," the synthesizer starts, "I remember that field trip."

"I lied," Selacia casually states, "Anyway, I just wanted to assure you that I have a plan. I brought some stuff to show you."

"Why do you need a plan?" the synthesizer asks, "Just go tell the police what you know and get everybody arrested."

"The police are in Senator Billett's pocket," Selacia starts, "I can't go to them. Nor can I go to the higher authorities just yet. We might be two major witnesses, but so long as Billett can have her character established as anything but the sadistic monster she is, we don't stand a chance of winning. Thus, what we need is more evidence."

"And how do you plan to get that?" the synthesizer asks.

"I'm fighting back with the same school rules that bind me," Selacia starts, "One key rule in particular, however, stands out. Students surrender all pretense of privacy while school is in session. It's a very important rule because we are responsible for the safety and well being of everybody on the premises. Obviously, this has some conflicts with other privacy laws, but they are usually considered to be void to an extent when it comes to school. Even a corrupt system like this can't ignore the tragedies at Columbine and Virginia Tech. Anyway, this flexibility in the law is the cornerstone of this plan. I consulted with a couple unaffiliated lawyers about this and they said I should be fine so long as it's made extra clear that this is for official reasons."

"What are you talking about?" the synthesizer asks.

"Today, I've been confiscating as many phones as I can," Selacia starts, opening the briefcase and pulling out a PDA, "Then I gave out time wasting tests so I could duplicate all the SIM cards before giving them back. I tied it all in with this cell phone PDA, which is programmed to receive only during school sessions within the particular cell that encompasses it."

"That's illegal," the synthesizer interrupts.

"In most contexts, it would be," Selacia starts, "But the school regulations specifically allow surveillance of any kind so long as it is towards impersonal protection of the school. I'd say a bully that broke your trachea would count. I'm hoping she admits to it through text messaging, but if I can find other people she has told about it, I can probably extract a confession out of them. If nothing else, the text messages should establish her character."

"What do you need me for?" the synthesizer asks. Jamie looks at Selacia distrustfully, not believing what he is saying. And why should she?

"I need you to hold your ground," Selacia starts, "You are right to assume that you will be under pressure, even if it won't be lethal like you think. Don't let them break you. Don't let them bribe you. If they offer a million dollars, refuse. If they other a billion, laugh at them. Don't let them offer you a consolation prize of condemning someone else you hate. Don't let them convince you that you are mistaken. But most importantly, don't let them get to you. Throwing a tantrum might seem like a natural response, but their intent is to discredit you and if you make a fuss, you will just give them an angle. You know that Dana Billett brutally attacked you out of pure malice. You do not need to emphasize it. Do you know who your regular nurse and doctor are?"

"Yes," the synthesizer responds.

"Refuse to take any medicine not given by them," Selacia starts, "Again, this is a flimsy conspiracy and from having met the staff, I know them to be good people. However, I can't dismiss the possibility that somebody might try to drug you. If somebody you don't recognize tries to give you anything, throw a fit. Press the emergency button, throw things at them, do whatever it takes. Anyway, before I leave, I have a parting gift."

"Not another card," the synthesizer quips as Selacia takes out a small box. He opens it to reveal a small ring with a princess cut red stone.

"I got a friend in the CIA to give me this," Selacia starts, "It's an outdated design and its code has been cracked by the entire intelligence community by now, but we don't need anything fancy. Anyway, it's both a microphone transmitter and a GPS tracking device. I'm going to be carrying a cell phone that responds to a code. I want you to make your text editor say 'testing two five' should you ever need to talk with me. It also has a secret feature, however. There's a panic mode that will send out an emergency signal. I want you to activate it should they threaten you, your family, or your friends. By that point, we have to assume they're willing to go through with it. Not only will I pick it up, but so will the CIA and FBI, both of whom will most likely pounce on it without a second thought. However, don't use it unless they make a serious, undeniable threat. To activate it, just twist the gemstone in either direction until it stops. I'll also be wearing one as well once they locate one built into an alumni ring. Any questions?"

"Why are you so full of crap?" the synthesizer asks.

"I want to keep you safe," Selacia responds, "I'm doing my best within these dire circumstances to protect you from harm and bring Dana Billett and her corrupt family to justice. I'm risking my job, my reputation, and potentially my life for you. Please, under no circumstances should you ever take off the ring. Do you understand?"

"Whatever," the synthesizer starts, "I'll play along. You're the closest thing to a friend I have now that Emily ran away. You know how depressing that is? Maybe it would be nice if I could die."

"Please don't say things like that," Selacia starts, placing the ring on her left hand and packing away the other stuff, "You have a bright future ahead. Don't let this bad turn of luck get to you. Anyway, I have someone waiting outside for me, so I'll be seeing you later."

"Goodbye, asshole teacher," the synthesizer responds as Selacia walks outside.

--

Kiko starts to wake up, feeling groggy and tired. There's a level of weakness permeating all through her body, preventing her from getting up or even opening her eyes. She has no idea what's going on, only vaguely remembering some bright flash not that long ago. Must not have been a lethal explosion.

"Yes, it worked!" some enthusiastic male voice shouts, "What a glorious day for science!"

"You were right," says a familiar female voice, "They were strong enough to kill it, but stupid enough to touch the bomb."

"See, the Heartless do have their uses," a deep feminine voice with a pseudo-British accent starts, "These aren't the right people, though."

"Who cares?" the male voice asks, "They're both projecting some type of field. They're fascinating specimens and we're going to take them apart to find out what makes them tick."

"You remember our deal," the Brit starts, "I reserve the right to a first choice. I choose the girl."

"No way!" the female voice exclaims, "She killed me! I get her!"

"We made an unbreakable contract," the Brit starts, "I supply the Heartless, I get first choice when we start kidnapping people. You can have the boy."

"No, I get the girl!" female voice shouts, "She killed me. Now, I can get revenge! She's mine, mine, mine!"

"You die all the time," the Brit starts, a bit of impatience seeping into her voice, "I need the girl for my project."

"No!" the female voice shouts, with a couple loud beeps sounding afterwards. After a few seconds of awkward silence that seem like an eternity, an annoyed sigh is heard.

"Idiot," the Brit starts, "You never realized that the remote control is just a placebo? Ha. Some scientist you are. It doesn't even have a battery in it. The Heartless are controlled by force of will alone. They follow whoever is strongest, which is most certainly not you. Here, let me show you how it's done." A whole bunch of loud footsteps start scurrying around, kicking up quite a bit of ground.

"What are you doing?" the female voice asks, her voice rising in altitude.

"Removing you from the contract," the Brit responds, giving a soft chuckle, "I'd kill you, but I know it's pointless here. You're going to make a poor Heartless, barely even a Shadow, but what can we do? You've been copied so many times, most of your heart is long dead."

"No, stop!" the female voice shouts, "It feels so cold! Make it stop! Make it stop!" After a lot more screaming punctuated by bizarre energy noises, it finally goes silent.

"I trust you're still with me, Dukakis?" the Brit asks.

"Of course," the man dubbed Dukakis responds, "What should we do with these people?"

"Put them in their car," the Brit responds, footsteps approaching Kiko, "Roll them back to the base."

"As you wish," the man responds. The footsteps stop by Kiko, a couple seconds painfully going by before she hears an unexpected word.

"Sleep."