She snuffled a bit, feeling warm wetness trickling out of one nostril. Gingerly, she prodded at her nose, and her fingers came away with blood on them. She spat. There was blood in that, too. It was nothing new, though. Nothing she couldn't handle. Those kids might be bigger than her, but she'd get them one of these days.

Footsteps crunched on the dirt, and she looked up. There was a boy standing at the entrance of the alley, silhouetted against the starry night sky. He was a couple years older than her, maybe nineteen or twenty. She narrowed her eyes. He wasn't unfamiliar to her – she'd seen him around a few times, in the saloon, on the street, but he was always just watching, never interacting. An observer. She'd ignored him whenever she'd spotted him. He wasn't interesting. Probably just another goddamn tourist who wanted to see some part of the Wild West before that Business asshole managed to finish fencing everything off.

"Th' fuck do you want?" she snapped.

He smiled and entered the narrow passage between the two old wooden buildings. His jeans were tattered and his blouse was threadbare, but he moved with a confidence that made his rags seem like riches. He sat down in the dust across from her, crossing his legs and propping his chin in one hand. "Rawley, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yeah, and?" she replied suspiciously.

"I'm on a bit of a quest," he said. "How much do you know of this ongoing situation with the Master Builders?"

"Enough t'know I don't care," Rawley said. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, leaving a smear of blood across it. "Some bigwig wants to put up a bunch of walls, fine by me. Ain't like I'd ever be getting out of this shithole town anyway."

He cocked his head, looking at her with renewed interest. "Would you like to?"

She scoffed. "Who wouldn't?"

"What if I could offer you a way out?"

"Piss off."

He looked genuinely taken aback at that. "But didn't you just…?"

"I ain't stoopid," she said. "I seen you around. You're one of those slippery types, ain'tcha? You been watchin', waitin'. Who's the kid no one'll miss? Well, that's me, o'course. So then you come slidin' in, hey girlie, I can get you outta here, and then I say yes and no one ever finds my body."

He was stunned for a moment, and then he broke out into a hearty laugh.

She glared at him. "You makin' fun a' me?"

"Oh, no, never," he replied, settling down again. "I like you – you're clever. But you've completely misread my intentions. I'm here with nothing but honesty. I have a plan, you see, but I can't do it alone."

"So you're trying to recruit some beat-up girl in a back-alley of a backwater town?" She sneered. "Might wanna rethink your strategies there, bud."

"Not at all," he replied with an easy smile. "I see a lot of myself in you, actually. You're a fighter. But you've got nothing to fight, really fight. I can give you that."

She narrowed her eyes. "If you're trying to build some crazy army, I ain't enlisting."

"I'm trying to build a new world," he said.

"That sounds even crazier." She leaned back against the wall. "Besides, you'd have to tackle that Business guy, and those weird Master Builder folk."

"That comes later," he replied, pulling a small flower out of his sleeve. It was one of the few kinds that could survive in this Territory's harsh desert environment. He ran his fingertips gently over its tiny, dusty petals, and they lengthened, their sun-bleached lavender deepening into a rich purple, flourishing under his touch. Smiling at her entranced expression, he held it out to her.

She cupped her hands around it, and it lay feather-light in her palms. After a moment, she looked up at him. "How'd ya do that?"

"I'm a bit of a Master Builder myself," he replied, folding his hands, "but with enough of a twist that I don't belong in their world. I'm sure you know what that's like."

She did know. It was why she fought against the boys in town. They wouldn't let her fight alongside them. "Yeah," she said. "I got an inkling."

"So then," he said, leaning forward, a light in his eyes, "why don't we make our own world?"

She looked down at the flower, slowly returning to its original state, then back up at him. "Didn't catch your name," she said.

"Kinzel," he replied, holding out his hand.

She knew that she would be the one following. He was the one with the plan, the one who exuded charm and class. But, somehow, that didn't seem so bad. She grinned, spat into her palm, and slapped her hand into his. He didn't even flinch. "It's a deal," she said.

He grinned back. "Welcome aboard, Rawley," Kinzel said. "We're going to achieve great things, you and I."

"Sounds like it'll be a blast," Rawley replied. She thought about adding 'sir' to the end, because it almost felt right, but decided that would come later. He'd have to earn it first.

He seemed to read this in her face, because his smile became approving. "Great things," he repeated.

They were nearly at the wall now. Jenkins had to crane her neck back to see the top of it. "Are you sure this will work?" she shouted over the wind.

"No!" Emmet shouted back. "Hold tight!" He yanked on a lever and the tractor reared back just as they hit the wall, and he hit a button on the console. The extra gas tank he'd added to the back kicked in, and with a blast they were rocketing up the wall. They were almost to the top when the engine began to sputter and die, and there was a heart-stopping moment when Jenkins thought they weren't going to make it, but they still had just enough momentum to carry them up and over the wall.

Jenkins stared in shock at the scene beyond the wall – or rather, the lack of one. It was just branches, tightly knit with vines and leaves. Huge tips of trees breached the surface, giving it an almost mountainous appearance.

The tractor slammed down on top of the canopy, cracking branches beneath it. But as soon as they'd broken, new branches grew to replace the old. The team scrambled to escape the smoking tractor as the slithering growths tangled around and pierced through it until it had become part of the canopy.

Struggling to catch his breath, Emmet pushed his hand through his mop of brown hair and said, "How are we going to find the others in this mess?"

Jenkins flipped out her phone. "They're gonna have to find us."

She'd barely finished her sentence before there was the sound of a not-too-distant explosion, and a puff of smoke and splintered wood rose into the air about a mile and a half away. What appeared to be a red convertible outfitted with stabilizers and rocket boosters jetted out of the swirling cloud, trailing dust behind it.

Jenkins exchanged a glance with Emmet, and Stibbons, standing on her other side, let out an impressed whistle. "You Master Builder guys don't mess around," he commented to Emmet, who shrugged in concession.

Jenkins put her phone to her ear, and there were a couple of rings before Benny answered. "J.J.!"

"We're stranded," Jenkins said, "over by the Wild West. That's you in the flying car, right?"

"How'd you guess?" He became muffled for a second, and then he said, "I see smoke, is that you?"

"Yessir," she replied.

"Be there in a flash!" he said, and hung up.

The rocket-ized car sped towards them, low above the trees, the leaves parting before it like waves. As it drew closer, the wheels touched down, and it screeched to a stop in front of them. The top of the convertible was down, and it was Wyldstyle behind the wheel with Business, white as a sheet, riding shotgun. Benny was in the back seat between Unikitty and Good Cop, who was holding a rocket launcher with a white-knuckled grip. There was something in their faces that told Jenkins that something was very, very wrong.

But then she was distracted as Wyldstyle tumbled out of the car and ran to Emmet, whose face split into a wide grin as they wrapped their arms around each other. After giving him a tight squeeze, Wyldstyle stepped back and began checking him to make sure he was alright. Emmet squirmed as she fussed over him, but he was pleased. If she was fussing, that meant she was fine, too.

Jenkins looked back at the car. Business was getting out of the passenger side on shaky legs, and Benny had forgone using doors and just hopped out, Unikitty scrambling after him. Good Cop had set the rocket launcher aside, but otherwise showed no intention of moving. Jenkins opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but Benny interrupted her.

"You said something about blueprints?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied, pulling them up on her phone. "Here."

Benny accepted the device and looked the images over. Slowly, he began to shake his head. "I dunno what to make of this."

"Hang on," Business said suddenly, peering curiously over the spaceman's shoulder. "Let me see that."

Wordlessly, Benny handed the phone over. Business ran his fingers across the screen, expanding sections, scrolling back and forth, then shrinking it to look at the whole thing. Finally, he looked back up at them, his eyes wide.

"I know what this is," he said.