Disclaimer: Every character from the Underland chronicles is the belonging of Suzanne Collins and all the other characters are of my own creation.

This is my first ever fanfic and it's also my first time ever writing something of this scale. I first read the Underland Chronicles in 2017 and like most was not sattisfied. Granted I must give Suzzane Collins for making her ending that unsatisfying or I would never be here. You may notice the writing style improve throughout this series and I feel I should mention I'm constantly changing small aspects of this story, a paragraphing here a paragraph there, not enough to change the whole story, but certenly something worth checking out,

You may think this story isn't about Gregor, probably because he isn't mentioned in the prologue, but I assure you this story is about him. Infact right after the prologue I start writing about Gregor.

I would recommend this story for 14+. I say this because of some vivid violence and some strong themes that might be a little too mature, what I mean by strong themes is things like depression and abuse. Of course this story isn't souley about that and anything I think is a little too violent or anything like that I always put a disclaimer before and after it so you can still read the story. Although it might make some things not make sense.

Now, i can't say how often I will update since I'm constantly writing new chapters on the fly, and I'm very busy with school and life. But, I will try my nest to at least post once a month, but I will finish this.

Prologue

Central Park, New York City

1:04 A.M

Illustrious professor William Atkinson sprinted down the white stained staircase of the Bethesda fountain. A place he had become quite accustomed to over the years. Atkinson stumbled towards the statue in hopes of finding a security guard, or anyone for that matter.

Sadly, at such a late hour no one was out, except for himself of course. Professor Atkinson's eyes dotted back and forth as he stifled a yawn, even in his particularly dire situation, he was still susceptible to the siren song of sleep. Peering back the way he came Atkinson could hear the faint sound of claws scraping against stone.

Looking back at the statue Professor Atkinson noted a pattern of cameras pointed at the statue. They were sensors. Realized Atkinson. Staring at the fountain Atkinson commented on forgiveness before climbing to the top. staring at the small feet of the statue that held it in place, Professor Atkinson began to push the statue off its pedestal.

Hearing the impending sounds of his own demise Professor Atkinson gave one last push. And, to his astonishment, the fountain fell. A wailing siren followed suit, normally this would cause him to cover his ears and walk away. But, tonight these ear-piercing sirens were a welcomed sound.

The statue below professor Atkinson was one of an Angel that would normally stand tall, now was a fallen Angel. Professor Atkinson couldn't help but think of the irony, if he did live, it would be because of an Angel. Something you only read about.

Finally exiting his own thoughts Professor Atkinson peered into the great abyss of the surrounding forest, the perfect place for the creature to emerge from. However, it was nowhere in.

The beast that had been on his tail so long, now nowhere in sight. So, for now, professor Atkinson had time to breathe, a moment where he could remind himself he was still alive. The moment was short-lived, for the beast had found him.

The beast stepped into the light and Atkinson could now get a clear look at it. The light reflected off the greasy matted fur, the claws were covered in dirt and a bit of blood, and its tail swept back and forth behind it. Sweeping up a bit of dust as it went. It then snarled showing off its large front teeth and its razor-sharp edges to all of its teeth.

" wh, what, what do you want ?" Stammered Atkinson trying to buy some time. It wasn't a question Atkinson expected an answer from. That's why the reply was that more surprising to him.

"I don't really care about you." Replied the Gnawer in broken English. "But, Bloodgore wants your time gone, and when Bloodgore calls you to answer."

Atkinson was so astounded that he nearly fell off the statue

"What in god's name are you!" Exclaimed Atkinson pointing his finger at the beast.

"In my homeland, they call us Gnawers, but in the overland, here, they call us a rat." Answered the Gnawer.

"Us?" Repeated Atkinson as a second gnawer leaped out of darkness giving Atkinson enough time to see how he would die. The second gnawer slammed Atkinson onto the cold stone parquet floor. One lone paw of the Gnawer rested on Atkinson's chest, slowly crushing him.

Frantically looking around for help Atkinson spotted a dark figure off in the distance. "Help!" Yelled Atkinson, sadly it came out as more of a wheeze than a yell.

But, to his amazement, the shadowy figure began to walk towards them. Wait. Thought Atkinson, realizing the shadowy figure had never heard his pitiful cry for help, he was always walking towards them.

And who in their right mind would calmly walk to two heaving 6 foot tall rats about to kill a man-someone who was assuredly not sane. Now the shadowy figure towered over Atkinson, and he could finally tell that it was not a shadow. No, the figure looking down at him was a hooded man, whose hands were deeply engulfed in his trench coat.

"My, my, look at how you have fallen Atkinson." Spoke the hooded Man in a smooth voice.

Atkinson tried to respond, but the pressure from the Gnawers paw was cutting off his oxygen. The hooded figure noticed this and made a motion with his hand, the Gnawer snarled in response, but eventually took his paw off of Atkinson.

Wheezing a few coughs Atkinson looked up at the figure, trying to study his face and find out who it was. "Wh-wh-who are you?" Questions Atkinson, the moonlight slightly impairing his vision.

"I'm surprised you don't recognize me." Spoke the hooded figure. "Especially after you ruined my life." His voice incarnated a deep, rich hatred, one that's fire burned so bright it couldn't just be directed towards Atkinson. "But, you never were as smart as me, so it's no wonder you don't recognize me. It has been many years since the 'sewer incident'."

Atkinsons mouth flew agape, now remembering who it was he felt even more petrified with fear than before. "You… why are you doing this, is this all because of what I said all those years ago?"

The now known hooded figure laughed maliciously. "Don't think you matter that much. No… you are just the first to die."

"It doesn't have to be me." Pleaded Atkinson

"Yes, it does." Now kneeling next to Atkinson the known hooded figure continued. "But, think about it this way, you'll be the first on my list to die."

Now standing up again the known hooded figure unsheathed a suppressed hand-gun from his trench coat. Taking his time to aim, the known hooded figure pointed it right at Atkinsons middle chest. Pulling the trigger Atkinson let out a guttural roar as the bullet ripped through his center chest.

A pool of blood began to form on top of Atkinson, the known hooded figure merely smiled. Now aiming his gun at Atkinson's head, Atkinson closed his eyes.

The sound of an empty chamber rang out through the park. The hooded figure unloaded the gun and looked at the ammunition cartridge. He then smiled maliciously again. "Sorry about that, I had a… busy night before I came here."

Calmly reloading the gun the known hooded figure pointed it again at Atkinsons head. Then he lowered his weapon and looked at his handwork. He nodded his head. "My work here is done."

And with that, the known hooded figure disappeared once again into the park, the Gnawers the following suit.

Atkinson now lay on the ground, holding on by barely a thread. Wait. He realized I'm the only one who knows what's really going on. I mustn't let this die with me. With renewed spirit and strength Atkinson was able to carefully make a series of clues, specifically designed for two people he trusted. Nevertheless, Atkinson was still going to die.

Once he was done designing his clues Atkinson sat against the fountain edge, resting his head on the ledge. Listening to the calm, running water Atkinson closed his eyes for the last time.

Chapter one

Gregor Bellator awoke slowly

A telephone was ringing in the darkness- a tiny, unfamiliar ring. He fumbled for the bedside lamp and turned it on. Squinting at his surroundings he saw a gold chandelier still lighting up the room with its reflective gold sheen, and furniture fit for a modern-day king, a television so thin that at first glance it could be mistaken for a mirror and white Egyptian Cotton sheets, hand-frescoed walls, and a colossal mahogany bed.

We're the hell, am I?

The jacquard robe hanging off his bedpost read:

Plaza hotel

Slowly the mist began to fade.

Gregor picked up the receiver. "Yes?"

"Mr. Bellator?" A woman's voice said. "I hope I haven't woken you?"

Confusion painted Gregor's face as he read the bedside alarm clock. It was 1:26 A.M. he had been asleep for a mere five hours, and yet he still felt like the dead.

"This is the concierge, sir. I apologize for the inconvenience, but there is a visitor here who demands to see you. He insists it is urgent."

Gregor still felt dizzy. A visitor at this hour can't be good.

The ringing of Gregor's hotel phone once again broke the silence. Groaning in disbelief, he picked the phone back up. But with a bit more force. "Yes."

As expected it was the concierge. "Mr. Bellator I must apologize once again but I thought it important to tell you that the visitor is on route to your room."

Gregor was wide awake now. "Wait, you sent someone to my room?"

"I apologize for but a man like this . . . I do not have the authority to turn him away."

"Who exactly is this mystery visitor?"

But the concierge was gone.

At that moment there was a heavy knock on the door. Uncertain, Gregor tentatively slid off his bed, feeling his toes sink into the velvet carpet. As he donned his robe the knocking began to grow more persistent as he moved to the door.

"Who is it?"

"Mr. Bellator? I need to speak with you." The man's English accented-a sharp, authoritative bark. "My name is detective Donald Barnes. New York Police Department." Gregor froze in place. The NYPD? At this hour. Now I know this can't be good.

Leaving the chain door guard secure, Gregor slowly opened the door a few inches. The face staring back at him was thin and washed out. The man was exceptionally broad and yet still very slender, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans with a detective badge resting comfortably around his neck.

"May I come in?" Asked the detective

Gregor hesitated, feeling uncertain as the stranger's swallow eyes studied him. "What is this all about?"

"My captain requires your presence at a crime scene."

"Now?" Gregor managed. "It's one in the morning."

"Yes I know, but correct me if I'm wrong, are you friends with professor William Atkinson?"

Gregor felt a small wave of fear rush over him as he got an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Yes. How did you know that?"

"Mr. Bellator."

"I prefer Gregor."

"Oh, well you see Mr. Bellator professor Atkinson . . . He was, this is always hard to say . . . he was in a horrible accident." Stated detective Barnes while handing Gregor a photo. "This was taken just ten minutes ago."

As Gregor's eyes met with the photo his whole body went rigid, his initial revulsion and shock gave way to a sudden upwelling of anger. "Who would do this!"

"We had hoped you Would be able to help us answer that very question, considering your prior relationship with him. And this." Said detective Barnes handing Gregor a second photo. "Very few people know about this one. Just you, me, and my Captain."

Gregor just stood there looking at the photo, his horror now laced with fear. The new photo was of some writing; llaBemerw tehiW. It was very open to interpretation. It could mean any sort of thing, of course, that didn't matter to Gregor. At least not at the moment. The weight of his friend's death clouded all other thoughts.

Detective Barnes checked his watch. "my captain is waiting, sir."

"Wait, why do you need me?"

"Well, you see professor Atkinson wasn't brutally murdered by just some random person. He was killed on purpose." Stated the detective grimly

"Yes, but I still don't see how this involves me."

"Oh, well you're going to help us solve this mystery, and that is why we must leave now." Said the detective pulling Gregor out of his room. "Wait!"

"What is it now Mr. Bellator?" Barked the detective.

"I'm still in my robe." Replied Gregor pointing around himself. "See."

Detective Barnes looked at his watch again. "You have five minutes, my captain won't wait much longer."

Gregor sprinted back into his room yelling "thanks." Over his shoulder as he struggled to get his pants on.

"Here." Offered Detective Barnes, handing Gregor his Jacket.

Gregor then threw on the jacket and thanked Detective Barnes. Walking to the elevator Gregor couldn't help but notice how Detective Barnes made sure to keep pace with Gregor. It was a little suspicious, but Gregor shrugged it off.

Clicking the elevator button a little blinking light appeared on the top. Floor 1… 2… 3… 4…. 5

When the elevator doors opened the hallway was filled with the quaint calming elevator music. Both detective Barnes and Gregor stepped into the elevator at the same time. The detective was more calm knowing he had a good eye on Gregor.

When they hit the last floor and exited the steel box Gregor almost took a step back by the majesty of the hotel's bottom floor. He had never really gotten a chance to truly seep in the elegance and decor, given that he was always in a rush to go back to his hotel room.

The only person in the room with them was the concierge. Probably the same one that called me. Thought Gregor

"Mr. Bellator!"

Turning around Gregor called back. "Yes?"

"Good luck, from all of us at the plaza."

"Um, thanks?"

Holding the giant doors open detective Barnes barked at Gregor to move. "Mr. Bellator, must I remind you that time is of the essence."

The city of New York has some of the greatest buildings in the world and one of the best food scenes, but there was one thing wrong with the city. The smell. No matter where you are in the city the smell still lingers in the air. And it was especially bad for Gregor given he had just walked over a sewer grate. Gregor's nose was on fire, the smell so bad he had to plug his nose. "My god this stinks."

"Yep, that's New York for ya."

"How much longer did you say it was to your police cruiser?"

Detective Barnes looked around a bit almost like he was lost. "Just around this corner."

As they rounded the corner and hoped in the police cruiser, Gregor's, nose welcomed the smell of anything other than the streets of New York.

"So how far is it to Central Park from here?"

"Normally it would probably take 10 minutes, but with this. We should be there in three." With that, detective Barnes flipped a switch, and on came the sirens. The sound was almost deafening and almost made Gregor jump when he heard it. Gregor had always thought when he was a kid that police sirens sounded the way they did so that they could scare the criminals into surrendering. He thought this mainly because the sirens always seemed to scare him as a kid.

Gregor couldn't help but look at that photo again. It was like when you're told not to do something so you do it. In this case, it was Gregor telling himself not to do it. But he couldn't help himself, there was some strange familiarity to the photo. Gregor recognized the wound but couldn't remember the memory associated with it. He knew the memory was from the years 10-12. But he had promised himself he would not think of anything from those years. Sadly he had no choice

Images of blood and gore flashed through Gregor's mind, horrible diseases, people being ripped apart by man-eating vines, war, famine, and. . . Gnawer. Gnawer, a word that had once been so familiar now sounded alien. The great beast of the Underland, a creature of pure basic instinct. Craving the flesh of humans, and had a hatred like no other for Underlanders. Underlanders the native name of the humans living in the Underland and the people of queen Luxa. A girl Gregor hadn't thought of in 8 years. On the other hand, maybe he had always been thinking about her.

"Were here." Interrupted detective Barnes, it seemed Gregor might have to hold off a bit on thinking about Luxa.

As they passed under the police tape Gregor couldn't help but notice how quiet it was. The park that would normally have thousands in it was now empty, save the police. The weather, dark and cloudy, setting the perfect mood for Gregor's predicament.

There standing a couple of feet out was the police captain.

His voice low and gravely with a hint of authority. "Hello detective, I presume this is Mr. Bellator

Shaking the captain's hand Gregor replied. "Yes, I heard you needed my help?"

"Correct, if you would follow me I'll take you to the scene of the crime. And you can call me captain miller."

Captain Miller carried himself with a demeanor like a bull. Holding his bulky shoulders high and for every step, Gregor took the captain took two. His clothing exerted force.

After a short amount of walking Captain Miller turned towards Gregor. "Hope you don't mind me asking Mr. Bellator," The way Captain Miller asked the question seemed like he didn't care if Gregor minded. "How do you know professor Atkinson?"

"I first met him a few years ago." Answered Gregor. "I was here visiting, I bumped into him in Central Park and we got to talking. I found out he also held a liking towards history. More specifically the history behind past wars. And, I don't remember how we got to the topic but he mentioned he taught history, he also mentioned he was a counselor."

"So you were his patient?" Pressed Captain Miller, a bitterness to his tone.

"Not exactly, we did talk about some things," He had been the first person Gregor had told about the Underland, of course, Gregor couldn't say that to Captain Miller. "We mostly talked about random things."

"I see. And you two were good friends, right? You never wanted to hurt him." This whole time Captain Miller was getting more accusatory towards Gregor. And he had enough.

"If I didn't know any better I would think this was an integration." Captain Miller and Gregor then shared a fake, nervous laugh.

Luckily the tension was cut off when Gregor's nose was attacked by a rotten, pungent smell.

Gregor coiled his face back in disgust. "What is that?"

"That is the smell of death." Said a forensic officer. "You must be Mr. Bellator." With a firm yet gentle grip the forensic officer shook his hand. "I'm Jack Hammond." Offering Gregor a sincere and sympathetic smile Gregor couldn't help but smile back.

Jack Hammond was a tall muscular man, with blond hair and ocean blue eyes. His voice was tainted with a tinge of an English accent, albeit more present than Detective Barnes.

"Captain Miller," opted Jack. "officer Barnes. Could you please stay back here, I'm going to show Gregor the body?"

Looking straight at Jack, Captain Miller narrowed his eyes. "And what justification do you have to do that." His gravelly voice tainted with anger.

"Why not. It's not like he is your 'prisoner'," a look flashed across Jack's face, one stating the held information. "And besides, he should be allowed a moment to mourn without you two snooping over his back."

Captain Miller stood there seething, the anger radiating off him. Detective Barnes looked quite calm compared to Captain Miller, but even he wasn't happy with the prospect of Gregor being out of his line of sight. However, they both knew the park was locked down, no one could get out.

Trees twisted and turned, contorting in abstract and absurd ways. Clawing at Gregor, making this place once a pleasant memory, a more dark one. Looking around Gregor began to notice something odd about a sign. It showed a multitude of arrows, facing every direction. However one stood out, the paint was beginning to peel, but it was still readable. Somewhat unclearly it read, 'Bethesda fountain.' Most concerning was the direction the arrow pointed, back the way they came.

This puzzled Gregor greatly, he had been told by Detective Barnes that the murder took place at the Bethesda fountain, he was sure. "Um, Jack?"

"Yes?" Replied Jack absentmindedly.

"Where are we going? Cause, I'm pretty sure the Bethesda fountain is that way," said Gregor pointing behind himself.

Jack abruptly stopped, motionless, slowly he turned around. His ocean blue eyes peering deeply into Gregor's chocolate brown. Then breaking the eye contact Jack let out a quiet laugh. "He wrote that you had a keen eye, and an inequitable mind," Jack's voice held a tinge of sadness at the mention of the mystery writer. "Although, you tended to act, in a way that reminded him of the french phrase… sans Connaissance."

Gregor's blank stare indicated his lack of knowledge of French. "It translates to 'without knowledge' not to say your stupid or anything like that."

Gregor struggled on how he should take the statement. "Well, I would hope you're not calling me stupid," Gregor did hope this, he liked Jack, he was the only person tonight who showed him any real kindness.

Suddenly Gregor remembered something Jack said, 'he wrote'. He wrote, pondered Gregor, who would write about him. "What did you mean when you said 'he wrote'. And don't lie to me cause I might sometimes be 'sans Connaissance' but I know when someone lies." Gregor might have butchered the French, but Jack understood the point.

Now Gregor was the one staring intently, not letting Jack's eyes leave his gaze, trying to intimidate him. Even if it was futile and not working. Jack bit his lip, then quickly pulling his sleeve up to check his watch he nodded. "Fine," agreed Jack. "I don't have the time to tell you the full story here, but I promise you I will soon. All I have the time to say is I got a call from Professor Atkinson telling me to read his notebook and come here. He asked me to find you and bring you." Jack paused momentarily, contemplating whether or not to withhold some particular information. "It doesn't matter." Finished Jack, choosing to keep it to himself.

It was hard for Gregor to tell if Jack was honest, it was hard at times, and the only thing Jack showed was confidence and strength. And it didn't help that Jack was being so enigmatic about it. Making it extremely difficult for Gregor to know the truth. Nevertheless, he chose to believe him. "Alright Jack, I believe you."

Jack smiled once again. "Thank you, Gregor, I knew you were a good guy."

I wouldn't be so sure of that reflected Gregor, thinking of the things he had done. For years he had tried to forget, still, some memories are harder to forget than others. At times Gregor's memories felt like old-fashioned still images, seared into the back of his mind.

A strange feeling overcoming him, a mix of sadness and irritation. Now that Atkinson's body was seared in Gregor's mind he felt angry, not for the fact Atkinson was dead, but that another friend of his died. Feeling a vast amount of shame from his thoughts Gregor decided to look ahead, focusing on the dirt path.

Unexpectedly a flock of disturbed birds flew overhead, Gregor paid them no mind, however, Jack seemed very interested in where they came. Putting his hand up to signal Gregor to stop, Jack kept into a bush, whispering for Gregor to hope in. "Come, come. Quickly!"

Looking back the way they came Gregor saw a sweeping light and faint voices. Realizing what was happening Gregor hopped in the bush with Jack. Keeping his head low Gregor covered his mouth, just in case they might hear his breath.

Rocks crunched under the hard sole shoes of Captain Miller as he walked with Detective Barnes through the forest, in search of Jack and Gregor. "Argh," Grunted Captain Miller in dissatisfaction. "We never should have let them leave. And now they've disappeared.

Detective Barnes looked around, sweeping his flashlight from tree to tree. "Don't worry sir," replied the Detective. "We locked the place down, per your request. And have uniformed officers sweeping the park. There's no way out."

Continuing past Gregor and Jack, Captain Miller and Detective Barnes kept up their conversation. Until they had grown so far away that they were only a faint murmur.

Crawling out of the bush's Gregor brushed off several small twigs and leaves. Sighing in relief Gregor looked to Jack for an explanation, like why Captain Miller and Detective Barnes were so adamant about getting him back. "Jack," asked Gregor. "You seem to know a bit more about what's going on than me. So… what is going on here?"

"It's not as simple as you may think Gregor, I can't just tell you it all in one quick sentence," answered Jack earnestly. "But, I'll tell you what's going on with those two cops back there. You see, they think you killed Professor Atkinson."

"They think I killed him." Repeated Gregor, he couldn't even begin to believe what Jack was claiming. "Why would they ever think that."

"They found a message with your name on it. It read, 'find Gregor'. The thing is I don't think that was the full message," Jack took a short break, pondering how he should continue. "Deeper things are going on, things you couldn't understand right now."

"Try me." Voiced Gregor, clearly offended.

"There isn't enough time." Replied Jack simply. Taking out his phone Jack showed Gregor a map of Central Park, the thing was it appeared to be covered with little red dots. Carefully inspecting the map Gregor realized the little red dots were all in the place of giant rocks. "What's with all the red dots covering rocks?" Questioned Gregor, pointing to one of the dots.

Jack seemed uneasy, shuffling in his shoes, his fingers moving in an intricate dance. "I can't help but feel bad." Responded Jack soberly.

"Why would you feel bad?" Asked Gregor, growing a little impatient with Jack constant dodging to his questions.

"Well… I'll tell you this upfront, once again. I won't be able to answer how I know what I'm about to tell you. One of these rocks is the same one you used 8 years ago to leave the Underland, and now I need you to tell me which one it was." Letting out a relaxed breath Jack looked towards Gregor, hoping he would react positively.

"Ok…" Announced Gregor, a clear surprise to Jack, who had not expected his nonchalant attitude. "I've already gone down this rabbit hole. However, you have to promise to answer my questions. All of them." Especially how you know about the Underland. Questioned Gregor in his mind.

Jack didn't even stop to think. Quickly shaking Gregor's hand he thanked him. "Alright," said Jack, his English accent more prominent. Gregor had started to notice that it happened when Jack was ever caught off guard. As though his English Heritage should be a secret. "I promise to answer all your questions. Now, which of these looks like the area you saw when you came up from the rock"

Carefully eyeing the map Gregor noticed a particular clearing, the bushes and trees weaved in a way lodged in Gregor's memory. This is the place. Thought Gregor. "Here," pointed Gregor. "That's the place, I'm Positive."

Looking at where Gregor had pointed, Jack seemed content. "Good, that isn't too far from here." Pointing sharply to his left Jack continued. "This way."

Cutting directly through the woods Gregor began to wonder, why did Jack opt to go through the woods rather than the path. Although He was able to answer it himself. They probably wanted to avoid Officers. Especially after Captain Miller and Detective Barnes visit. This way we'll get to the entrance faster. A random, protruding tree branch hit Gregor in the face, ironically right before they reached their destination.

A sense of indescribable feelings overcame Gregor. It was like visiting a grave, and in many ways it was. This is where Gregor left a part of him, where the warrior had disappeared, and a big part of Gregor died. But, this was also a bridge, a way for Gregor to get back so much that was lost. "I can't believe I'm here." Announced Gregor.

Jack turned around, his face inquisitive. "I'd imagine this is uprooting many memories." Proclaimed Jack as he walked over to the rock.

Gregor smiled solemnly, confirming what Jack said. "Yes."

"Time to move this big rock," said Jack, beginning to push. Gregor Began to push as well, grunting as he put his whole body into it. "Argh, this is hard."

"It is a rock." Replied Jack sarcastically.

Gregor was about to retort when the rock suddenly flew open. A wailing wind soared through the new gap in response.

We're so close. Exclaimed Gregor internally. He was so close. Finally, he would be back, years of torturing himself with even the prospect of thinking about going back had seemed to be an impossible, daunting task, and here he was about to go back.

Taking a step back, Gregor stared down at the stone staircase below him. He felt like he was reborn again, or more accurately he felt a bit of himself return. Perhaps, even the warrior was back.

Looks like Gregor is about to go back to the Underland, or is he? No, he is… Or is he? Still, eventually, he will go back. I will tell you this now, this story won't be like other TUC fanfics, this will have a bit more mystery and violence (if you don't like that however I always put a disclaimer before and after). I really do hope you enjoyed reading this and if so, leave a review. If not, leave a review. I suppose what I'm saying is leave a review, they really do help. I guess that's all I have to say, these little blurbs will probably be longer, and better in the future.

Run Like The River- StoryThieves