It Could Be Worse 2nd Season

by Sulia Serafine

The hits keep on coming and all your favorites are back again! set in a futuristic universe Complete

6. Emerging

It Could Be Worse (2nd Season)

Episode 6: Emerging

By Sulia Serafine

[A Protector of the Small fanfic set in an alternate universe; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

Oh, one more thing: BAD LANGUAGE (I. E. cursing, swearing…). You have been warned!

E-mail me at silverwlng@aol.com okay? And you know the drill: titles or subjects of emails are fanfiction.net, s.serafine, or icbw. Thanks!]

Keladry could definitely tell that winter was just around the corner. Her lips were slightly chapped and her nose was cold as she stepped out of her car in the garage and headed to the elevator. Her white dress shirt was very wrinkled, and she wouldn't be surprised if there were a few stains in her clothing that wouldn't come out. Despite her sloppy and grungy mood, she was happy.

It was the morning after Lalasa's near-murder. Otherwise known as Keladry's birthday. She didn't expect a great deal. She was one year older. She was within legal age of a lot of things that weren't technically available to her before (but had been accessed anyway, thanks to her First Class status). Was she really so young? It felt like the last twenty-one years had been spent doing so much.

And yet Keladry felt like she had accomplished so little. After all, what did she have to show for it? An apartment in Tusaine, a superior who was always cranky, a body that ached from its billions of encounters with that fiend named Death... a confusing set of friends and a very disagreeable partner whom she just wished would have a heart.

The thought had mysteriously carried her to his door. She looked around, searching with her eyes for an excuse to quickly scurry away. None was found. Her feet were planted to the floor, and she had the brief silliness to wonder if one of the Riders had placed a gooey trap to stick her to that spot. Half of them were prone to pranks, after all.

She looked down at herself. She was a mess. Sleeping all night on a lounge sofa in the hospital was not exactly the Ritz. And washing up in a bathroom covered in antiseptic and alcohol had done nothing but dizzy her senses. Her head was still spinning from the fumes.

Neal wasn't having such a great time either. He'd confided in her that morning that it didn't feel right to him-- his credit for last night's events. He didn't feel like a First Class officer anymore. After slacking off for so long, he just felt normal. And the fact that he'd done something of such caliber was too much for him to conceive.

"It doesn't match up, does it? I wasn't there under the patio. How could I have shot at Cartier at the same time Cleon did? I don't remember..."

"That's the point, Neal," she assured him. "You don't remember. You did so much, but you just can't think of it because your mind and body is just reeling from all the beating it took yesterday."

"No, but I think there's more. Some of the evidence just doesn't match. How could have Cartier rigged the car so that the tires were shot out? I understand the ignition and the accelerator... but the tires?" He angrily pounded his fist on the metal bar handle at the side of his bed. He regretted instantly and made a small whimper as he rubbed his hand.

Keladry shook her head. "It doesn't make any sense to me either, but it's a closed case. For now."

Back to the present, Keladry let out a deep breath. Her partner's door still took up her whole entire field of vision. She'd gone this far. She might as well get her daily dose of insults before she continued on with brunch or doing the laundry. Her shirt definitely needed the attention, so she'd ought to get the chore over with.

She pressed the telecom button and spoke. "Stone, I know you're in there. Open up." She paused. "You have got to stop sneaking out of hospitals whenever you get injured. It only makes things worse." She received no response. "Stone!"

How typical. He ignored her. She was trying to be the good and helpful person, and he shot down her attempts. He didn't even acknowledge that she tried most often times. The worse side of her inner mind told her to give up and focus her attention on more appreciative people, but she wouldn't leave anyone out. She never would.

The door slid open. Joren stood in front of her, arms folded across his chest. He wore a white ribbed tank undershirt, and then a mass of bandages wrapped around his right shoulder. She sympathized with him. It must have hurt a great deal, but he didn't show any pain. Not any clenched jaw muscles, or awkward movements. That was Joren, for you, always trying to hide things.

"Mindelan, take a picture. It lasts longer," he said, a bit tritely, and retreated further into his apartment. The door was still open, so Keladry pondered if it was a cue for her to enter. If memory served her right, no one ever entered his apartment. It wasn't breaking privacy rules that Stefan had made. When Joren was involved, the infraction transformed it into trespassing onto an entirely different country.

Did this mean that he was getting used to her, this... admitting her inside? Was he admitting her inside? That was a positive sign in her book, but what did it mean to Joren? Unable to answer her own inquiries, she stood shyly at the threshold, watching her partner inside.

The blonde in question growled softly from the living room/kitchen. "Well, what did you want?"

"Just checking on your shoulder. I mean, you'll need to change the bandage. I assume you haven't touched it since last night though you obviously disregarded their recommendation for a sling." She gestured to the way he carried his right arm, a little too slack for his normal stance.

Joren glared at her and defiantly held his right arm straightforward. He rotated it right, and then left, then put it slowly down. His arm hadn't flinched or wavered. Keladry cursed his obstinacy and joined him in the kitchen.

"Satisfied?" he barked.

"Not really. You'll need help changing the bandage at least."

He snorted. "I can do it on my own."

She knew she was pushing the boundaries, but some boundaries were simply ridiculous. Her good sense told her that if he tried changing the bandage himself and strained his shoulder, the wound would only get worse. Keladry walked over to a metal stool next to the kitchen counter and gestured for him to sit.

"You're delusional," he remarked snidely and walked past her to his single couch. While he walked around, Keladry had an opportunity to observe her surroundings. No one else would probably see it for another thousand years.

The kitchen tiles reminded her of a black and white checkers board. Someone else must have picked it out. No where did she see black and white checkers in any one part of Joren's persona. His counter had stacks of plain white plates and paper plates, a few bottles of water, and a lot of on-the-go sort of snacks. Black square magnets held important papers to the refrigerator. They were receipts on motorcycle parts, names of parts dealers, and other contacts that Keladry didn't even want to guess at.

White walls, some chipped paint at the corners where the walls met the ceiling. One six-bladed ceiling fan with a light bulb and a metal link cord. One coffee table, most likely taken from the back of a furniture store that had gone out of business, had four sturdy legs and a dark wood polish applied to it. Scattered atop the coffee table were a few empty bullet shells, some magazines for his guns, and a holster that fit around his back.

His carpet was off white, almost a sort of light tan. There were dark spots in arbitrary places. Whatever occupants had been here before had left plenty of evidence of their existence. Joren wasn't the type to raise a ruckus over immaculate apartments, so he obviously didn't mind Stefan stuffing him in one of the worst places.

"Are you still here?" he asked as he turned around from where he sat on his couch. He'd been digging through a black duffel bag whose contents were mysteries.

Keladry walked around the counter and toward him. "I'm not going anywhere until I'm satisfied with that stupid roll of bandages."

He rolled his eyes upward and considered his options. "Fine," he agreed, almost as simply as if someone had asked him if he'd be okay with just vanilla ice cream. He jerked a thumb toward a closed door near the bedroom. "Spare bandages in the bathroom."

It had been almost too easy. Keladry had the right mind to check around for a glowing green pod. Pod people. Yes, there was a crazy science fiction book that Owen once showed her. It contained a story of aliens, pod people, replacing real people and acting entirely out of character. Perhaps pod people had come to Tusaine and she just didn't know it.

"Don't lay a finger on anything else. You got that?" Joren yelled distrustfully behind her.

The fact that he was 99 percent in character ruined her hypothesis.

She entered the bathroom and flicked on the wall switch. She was once again disappointed. Hoping for something more revealing about his life, all she got was a clear white bathroom counter, a spotless mirror, and a large stock of different antiseptics and disinfectants. That did not appear out of the ordinary to her, considering their line of work. She crouched down to check the cabinet under the sink.

"Ah. There they are." She picked up a box of sterile white bandages and ripped the tab on top while trying to open it. She also brought some gauze and other things to clean the wound with. You could never be too sure.

When she returned to the living room, he was seated on the kitchen stool that she'd set out earlier, with his white tank lying on the counter next to the sink. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the counter top. She tried not to drop anything as she made her way over and dumped all the items onto the tiny kitchen table. She nearly knocked off a holster from the table, but caught it and set it where it was before.

"I tell you, it's fine," he protested one last time as she started to undo the wrapping on his shoulder. Being so close, she could definitely tell each individual muscle she saw was consumed with a reserved power that was awe-inspiring to see. When Joren wasn't being an asshole about it. If it had been any other person, with a gentler personality, good company might have pleased Kel. It would match the well-toned body. One of her classmates from the Academy would say that hard bodies like his should be possessed by the sweetest souls.

Why flattering looks and crude roughness had to walk hand in hand, she wish she knew.

"You get injured so often," she commented to fill up the silence.

"What can I say? I'm always in the wrong place at the wrong time."

A house burning down. A father had attempted to save his son. Keladry lowered her gaze, only to be confronted by the evidence to her thoughts.

The familiar collection of scars greeted her eye. Some were burn scars; others were randomly made. Bullets, razor feathers... It was hard to tell them apart. It was certainly difficult to keep focused whenever he displayed his battle scars. She wanted to reach out and touch one--

But that was... overstepping boundaries that she wanted to keep, a little nervous voice in her said. She finished taking off the bandage and threw it in the wastebasket. Then she turned back to his shoulder.

"I don't get it... This isn't right! It can't have healed so much in one night!" She stared at the peculiar wound, which looked as if it'd had a week or more to heal rather than half a night. The skin tissue was barely raw and the dead skin was already peeling off. Most of the small wound was scabbed over and ready throw off the scab for new skin. The area itself was just overall pale or pink. She gently touched a part of it with a gauze pad. "This is impossible."

He shrugged. "I heal fast."

She glanced for one last time at the raw skin. Then, she walked around him so she could speak to him face to face. "No one heals that fast."

"I do," he said plainly. He wasn't surprised with himself at all. What she wouldn't give to read his thoughts! "Well, Mindelan, if you're not wrapping it up, give it here. I'll do it myself. It's not like I'll be straining anything."

How could he be so oblivious to the phenomenon?

"You..." she suddenly gasped. "This is why... You sneak out of hospitals whenever you get injured because of this... incredible resilience!"

He took no notice of her revelation and turned around to get a fresh roll of bandages. He held down the end with one hand while wrapping his right shoulder with the other hand. Keladry quickly took the bandages from him and continued what he'd started. She scolded him freely. "I can't believe this. This whole time... That's why you don't stay in hospitals. They suspect, don't they?"

"Blood tests," he murmured mysteriously, his eyes darkening.

She frowned. "You weren't always like this."

"No," he admitted. "It started not too long ago. Not too long at all. Not that it matters." Impatiently, he inserted, "Are you done yet, Mindelan? You're a damn tortoise. Definitely no chances in the medical field for you." She pulled tightly on the bandage, hoping he felt some pain for the insult. He laughed at her cruelly and reached for his tank. "You're way too emotional. You were better when you tried to be all reserved and professional when you weren't."

"Can't you be nice to me? Even on my birthday--" she put her hand to her mouth. Of all people to blurt that out to, she'd chosen him. She didn't want him to know her birthday. From now on, he'd be capable of plotting his most malicious actions on her birthday.

He scratched the back of his head as he hopped off the stool. "Really? Humph. Waste of a cake," he commented and started for the front door. Her unceremonious cue to leave. She considered kicking over his table or some childish action, but in the end she just shuffled to the door.

There again, waiting on the threshold. Joren cleared his throat. She wasn't leaving for some reason he didn't know. "So, Mindelan, how old does this make you?"

Surprised that he asked, her eyes widened. Now was not the time to look like an idiot. "Twenty-one."

"Twenty-one," he echoed more quietly. "And this is your life."

Coming from him, it sounded like a prison sentence. She clenched her fists at her side, determined not to react the way she knew that he wanted her to. She counted to ten in her head and coolly replied, "If you're thinking that--"

Her retort was cut short by his lips on hers. His strong embrace pressed her whole body against his so tightly she couldn't imagine being able to pull them apart. His arms snaked around her waist possessively and embraced her so tight that she could barely breathe. Keladry's mind was a complete blank. Her primary thought had been to push away from him, but her defenses were being automatically shut down. Even if she'd try to push away, he most likely would have overpowered her.

By Glory... this isn't right... what am I doing?

So there she was, her arms trapped between him and herself. She would have been in a position to pound her fists on his chest had there been space enough between them to do that. Her knees were weak, and probably would not hold her up if he weren't holding her. All that should have been on her mind, she recognized, was to get away from him... to slap him for trying to play her like always did.

But his lips were so soft, and so bruising. His mouth moved against hers hungrily-- pressed so hard that she couldn't turn away even if her mind had been stable enough to think of it. But the longer they stood there, separate from the universe, the more hopeless it seemed of ending. One hand wandered up her spine to the back of her neck in case she tried to twist her head away. Keladry made a sound of protest, still muffled by his lips.

He taunted her, close to ripping away all her dignity by tightening his hold and brushing her ticklish spots with his fingertips. Then his hands returned to rubbing her back and neck, eliciting a whimper from her. She cursed herself for letting it sound, because from that reaction, he only doubled his ministrations.

She could hardly breathe. Her head was dizzy with lack of air, and otherwise contributed to her weak-in-the-knees feeling. Kel literally gave up and leaned toward him. The hand on her neck moved upwards to run fingers through her hair. Her scalp delightfully welcomed the sensation.

Little pangs of desire and fulfillment were welling up inside her chest and how was she going to force them down? Unbelievably warm... breathless... his so masculine body against her own...This had to stop. No more of his muscular bare arms around her...his wonderfully soft hair tickling her cheeks, those now warm lips parting hers, tasting her-- was that his tongue? --his undeniable strength keeping her rooted to the spot....

No, no more of that.

"Mmph!" She balled up her fists and tried to push off his chest. Their lips separated, and Keladry felt a chasm between them. Maybe the chasm existed inside her, because without his touch she suddenly felt empty. He smirked. As soon as she glimpsed his parted lips and toothy smile, he removed his arms from her person so quickly that she had no time to adjust and went toppling backwards. She landed on her butt just a step outside his door.

Flushed and angry, she stumbled to her feet. Had anyone seen? No, no one was in the halls except them. She turned on Joren, ready to denounce his actions as those of a lunatic's, and a pervert's.

"Twenty-one."

She frowned and narrowed her eyes into glaring slits, trying to form words in her mind to speak. She took a deep breath. "What?"

He leaned on the doorframe, stretching out like a Cheshire Cat. One hand was poised to press the button to close it. "Twenty-one, Mindelan. And this is your life. Twenty-one years and here you are, sitting on your ass in a hall wondering how you can take control of a fate that hates you."

"You asshole!" she yelled, feeling his words just might be true. "If you ever try that again, I'll--"

"Do what you always do," he finished, altering her intended words. "Try at first, and then surrender because it feels so good. And then feel all the humiliation and pain that I have to offer." He laughed deep in his throat and turned around. "Oh, and don't worry about helping me with my bandages. I think I can handle it from here on in." The door closed.

She could have stood in the same spot forever, just like the timeless moment prior to her entering his apartment twenty minutes ago.

This was her life.

~~

Keladry lied down on her couch, watching television and wondering what she was to do all day. It was her birthday after all. In years past, that special day was spent at the training center or perhaps in the shooting gallery. Now and then, Neal and Owen would have taken her out to dinner-- a best-friends-only celebration. But only Neal was here of the two, and he was in the hospital, banged up like no one's business.

She went into the kitchen and started making herself some lunch. She'd meant to do so earlier, but things had distracted her. Things. People. Certain people that liked to mess with her head. She pushed the thought out of her mind as she rummaged through her food pantry.

"Stupid jerk," she muttered aloud.

"Who's a jerk?" a voice from behind asked her.

Keladry straightened up and turned around. She frowned. "How did you get in here, guys?"

"Door was open," Faleron supplied to Cleon, who had opened his mouth without anything ready to say.

Cleon took a seat at the table while Faleron, Roald, and Lalasa stood. Kel knew exactly what would steer at least one person off subject as to the question 'who was a jerk' and tossed a bag of fat free potato chips at the redhead who gladly caught them, opened the bag, and started snacking. The others in turn partook of the food. She brushed her hands off and sat down as well.

"So, what's new?" she asked, feeling prompted to begin the conversation after successfully shooting down the first question.

Lalasa rolled her eyes. "What's new? That's all you can say?"

Roald interrupted her before his girlfriend went off on a spiel. "We just came from Neal. He said it's your birthday."

"How could you not tell us?" Lalasa demanded, gathering her only other female friend in a tight hug. Obviously, the Carthakian woman was no longer mad at her for the events of the night before. Roald sighed and slumped in his chair, staring blankly into the space near his feet. Lalasa glanced at him before rolling her eyes and sitting down besides Cleon.

"It's not important," Keladry shrugged. She inwardly hoped that they wouldn't make a great fuss over her. There was a never-ending amount of trials, tribulations, and irritations for her to deal with. No time must be allowed for trivial events like birthdays.

Cleon paused in his eating to clap her on the shoulder. "We'll celebrate! If it weren't for you, it's likely none of us would ever have met, you know."

Faleron frowned, pondering. "I'm not yet sure that is such a good thing." His best friend punched him in the arm. Faleron chuckled and rubbed the sore spot. "Just kidding, Kennan."

Keladry wondered if it were at all possible to create a diversion and escape her own apartment. Before she could calculate the time she would need to run around Lalasa or vault over the kitchen table, Cleon had already gotten up and was browsing through the electronic phone database for the address of a club they could go to.

"There's a pool hall on the riverfront," he suggested. The beeping sounds from the device were loud, so he twisted the volume dial.

"Sounds good to me," Roald immediately replied. He couldn't help but be eager for a decision to be made and done. Lalasa made an uncertain sound.

"Isn't there any other place we could go?"

"I think the pool hall is fine," Roald defended.

She gave him a reproachful look. "Why don't we ask them, Hon? It's not your birthday, is it?"

"No, it's not, but it's not yours either, Dear."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not sure I like that tone of yours."

"Oh really? What is it that you don't like? Is it a chauffeur's tone? A poet's?" His voice took on a clearly sarcastic attitude that Lalasa loathed on the spot.

Keladry blinked. She had to be in the Twilight Zone. Roald and Lalasa were arguing? Over something as simple as celebrating her birthday? Something was very, very wrong with that picture. As if someone had streaked ink down the front of the Mona Lisa. She sat down. "No, no. The pool hall is fine! If we have to go anywhere tonight, I'd rather it be quiet. I'm still completely wiped out after last night."

It was truth, and it was accepted. Without any further dispute, the location of that night's 'festivities' was agreed upon. Roald and Lalasa left, wanting to purchase a present for her though they'd had very little time to do it in. Cleon and Faleron remained. The trio could still hear the couple squabbling loudly outside the apartment door.

Keladry shook her head. "Is it just I thinking this, or is there some acid between them?"

Faleron scratched his chin. "No. I think they're just scared from last night." He forced himself to smile. "I mean, from the time they've gotten together to now, their relationship has been close to perfect, hasn't it? Nobody lives like that. A little imperfection is just what the doctor ordered to make sure they stay together." His smile faltered. "You can't help but be depressed about that explanation."

"Elaborate?" Keladry asked in a monotone voice, still staring at the space where Lalasa and Roald had been standing.

"Depressing... the fact that no one's relationship is perfect," he sighed. "We're all flawed."

Cleon continued chewing. He swallowed and shrugged. "What's so wrong with that?" His oddly quiet voice said in a bittersweet tone. "We're all big boys and girls. We know what truth is in this freaking world."

Keladry moved her gaze so it rested on the two men in front of her. Incredulous, she snorted. "Has the whole world suddenly slipped into a depression while I was sleeping?"

Faleron started for the living room. "No. It just stopped taking it's Prozac."

Cleon laughed, pretending that one was supposed to laugh at the joke. He stood up and walked over to Keladry, hugging her. "Happy Birthday, Kel. We'll have fun tonight, won't we?" With a swift kiss on the forehead, he followed his companion toward the door. "Make sure to write your gift list and page it to us!"

She heard the door close and dragged her feet to the refrigerator. She filled a glass with cold water and took a sip. The cold water soothed her parched throat. It did nothing for her mood. She held up the glass to eye level, remembering that people swallowed their medicine with glasses of water. She wouldn't need the medicine, she told herself. None of her friends would need it, and most certainly not her.

It was her birthday. And she'd damn well cry if she wanted to.

~~

"Oh man, but I love this place! How come we've never been here before?" Cleon exclaimed after they'd gotten in, claimed a few tables, and went with Roald and Faleron to play pool. Most of Keladry's acquaintances in Tusaine had surprisingly shown up. But only half of the Riders' Own attended. The rest were working.

Buri and Raoul were sitting at a table with Qasim and Prosper, laughing over a joke that Raoul had just made. They seemed relaxed enough. Prosper didn't resemble himself while he was grinning. Keladry supposed that she was too familiar with his serious side. She glanced sideways at her other friends.

Neal, the first friend she'd made when she came to the Academy of Tortall, was drinking a can of soda and talking with Dom. His wounds weren't healed, and it hurt for him to move around, but he'd wanted so desperately to come that night. After much pleading, Neal had convinced the doctor to let him go on the condition that Dom stayed with him at all times.

("Even to the bathroom?"

"Yes, Mr. Queenscove. Even to the bathroom.")

Dom held a present that Neal had bought for Kel in advance. When she entered a short time earlier, the Rider had risen to present it to her.

"You didn't think I'd forget, did you?" Neal grinned. He winced when he stretched his split lip and reached up to dab at a drop of blood.

"Of course not," she sat down beside him. "I wish Owen were here, though. It isn't the same without his annual little birthday song." The two old friends laughed. Since their school days, Owen had come up with an odd little birthday song that he would sing for anyone on their birthday. It was not the conventional and the traditional. Everyone loved it.

Neal tapped the lid of his soda can in boredom. "I hope he's fine wherever he is."

"I'm sure he is."

"Probably complaining about the lack of vanilla pudding."

Keladry slapped his arm. She immediately apologized when he grimaced. He waved it off. "It's okay. I'm not a fragile little glass ornament. I'm a tough guy."

"Says who?" Dom inserted, eliciting a partially outraged gasp from his younger relative.

As the two continued their war of wits, Keladry stood up unnoticed with Neal's present and headed toward Fianola and Lalasa. Both were watching their respective love interests playing pool. Keladry knew that the ground upon which Lalasa and Roald were standing on that day was shaky, but what about the barely out-of-her-teens Fianola?

She knew that Faleron was a good guy. He was nothing less than a gentleman, charming and sophisticated when he wanted to be. Fianola was somewhat young for him, Keladry thought. But she did know that it wasn't dear Fal that had initiated the whole thing, but Fia. He wouldn't do anything that the younger girl wouldn't want to happen. If anything, it was probably Fianola who was influencing the ex-thief.

"Hi, birthday girl!" The youngest Rider greeted. She hugged Kel, who awkwardly hugged back. The younger woman's eyes lit up. "I got something for you!"

"Oh, you didn't have to," Keladry rubbed the back of her neck.

Lalasa brightened. "Oh, I almost forgot my gift, too! Here, Hon."

"You shouldn't have..." Am I going to have to repeat this scene all night? She accepted both presents from her female companions and coughed gently. They moved aside to offer her a seat on the bench. She sat and set the wrapped boxes on the table.

Her older friend elbowed her. "Open them already!"

"Oh, I don't want to make a mess," Keladry lied. "We'll open them when we get back tonight. You guys can come in for a few minutes; it'll be cool." The two others whined, but eventually accepted the proposal. Keladry let out a deep breath.

She spent a few more minutes with the Lalasa and Fianola until she felt she'd filled the quota of nice, polite stick-around-even-if-you-don't-want-to time to ease her conscience. She excused herself from the table and sauntered over to where some of the Riders were.

Raoul was right in the middle of retelling an escapade of his to Qasim since it was in the time before he'd come. Buri, though she hadn't been there, had heard the story before. Prosper, being the first man ever recruited to the Riders' Own, added a few details here and there when he sensed that his boss had forgotten one. Keladry couldn't help but envy how happy they appeared talking about their work. At one point, Prosper and Raoul both stood and acted out a few motions that went on from a particular part of the fight.

Patrons of the pool hall not even in the party seemed to be listening from where they were. Their wide eyes and rapt attention were the evidence Keladry needed to conclude that no matter where the Riders went, eyes followed.

Prosper backed up too far in one move and collided with her. "Whoa! Sorry, Keladry. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she responded. "Good evening to you gentlemen. Having fun?"

"A very happy birthday to you, Keladry. And yes we are!" Raoul greeted. Qasim and Prosper did likewise. She thanked them and sat down. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but you don't look as happy as the guest of honor should be."

"Oh, no. It's nothing like that. I'm just very exhausted."

"I wish I'd been there. Car explosion and hostage taking. Escaped convict? It definitely sounds like you had your hands full," Prosper remarked. His ever-serious tone magnified the interested look in his face.

The same opinion was obviously present in Qasim. "I'd have liked to poke around the wreck. Neal keeps denying what went down in the report."

"Don't say it so loud. He'll hear you and get riled up," Prosper warned.

Keladry glanced over at her best friend. In his condition, she didn't want him getting excited over any DJPF matters. Neal deserved a copious amount of rest and relaxation. She bit her lower lip and drummed her fingers on the tabletop.

"Did they identify Noll's cause of death?" she asked Raoul, but did not raise her eyes to meet his.

The older man coughed, scratching his chin. She wondered why a lot of men did that when they were nervous. Did their chins itch when they didn't know to what extent they should answer a question? Prosper and Qasim looked on in blatant suspicion. Buri, continuing to remain quiet, looked down at her drink.

Noticing his own employees' gazes, Raoul relented. He stopped scratching his chin and set his hand on the table next to his drink. "Flyndon's men wrote that in the crash, the flame had not instantly reached the interior of the vehicle. On impact, the steering wheel was twisted and a jagged piece went through his jugular. He suffered this for another second before the flames consumed him."

"What a way to go," Qasim murmured. "I really want to take a look at the wreck now."

"Why should you? They got all the evidence they needed to confirm reason of death. Everything's done with. Can't we just rest a tiny bit?" Keladry snapped. Qasim stared at her as if she'd just become a wolf. Something constricted within her chest. "I'm sorry, Qasim. I didn't mean that. I'm just tired."

Buri patted her motherly on the back. "It's okay. You'll definitely feel better later. It's your birthday isn't it? Why don't you get up and around? Mingle with people! Play pool! Get a drink, even. You only live once, eh?"

"Thanks," she nodded and got up. "Talk to you later."

She placed her hands in her pockets and wandered over to the bar to see the baseball game on the television. The Northwatch Knights were winning one to nothing. She'd noticed a few days back that Faleron was starting to interchange his usual hat with a baseball cap. It was most likely Cleon's doing, but it was a good change nonetheless. She watched two more pitches before becoming bored enough to let her eyes roam over the bar.

A few stools down, Joren was tracing invisible circles on the bar top and muttering to his self in a language that she couldn't understand. She hopped off her stool and joined him at the shadowed end. He didn't even acknowledge her presence.

"You came," she said. Kel had no idea why she would even speak to him after that morning, but it was a way of life that she'd become accustomed to. He would embarrass her, she would pretend it never happened. They wouldn't talk for a while. And then it began again.

Joren shrugged. "Didn't have anything else to do. Bikes are all finished. Yours is outside if you want to see."

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "You finished?"

"Yeah. I finished," he yawned. He motioned for the bartender to fill his small glass again. "You'll still have to get home the way you came here though. I'm not walking back tonight."

She nodded. "Oh, that's fine. I'm just... glad you finished." She chuckled weakly and nibbled nervously on the inside of her cheek. "Having any future plans for either bike?"

"No. If I hear about new features I could possibly add or improve upon from the fellas at Motor Plus, sure I'll work." He flung his head back as he took a shot of whisky. He exhaled sharply from the strong taste. "But until then, I'm stuck."

"Right." She recognized the name Motor Plus as this well-to-do garage not far from the DJPF Station. Joren and Qasim could practically live there. They stopped by enough for all the mechanics and employees to know how the two took their coffee.

They sat in silence, Joren occasionally taking a sip of his drink. Keladry hoped he wouldn't seriously think of driving that night. Perhaps he ought to ask Qasim to take him home. The blonde trusted the other man enough. He definitely trusted him more than he trusted her.

If that's the truth, why do I even bother worrying about him? It's not like he's crying on my shoulder like on that day in Galla. That damned time in Galla was a damned pain, now that I look back on it. It's even got me cursing! She closed her eyes and let her head rest on her forearms. She could float peacefully into sleep like this. Why not? She was terribly tired. Her eyes hurt keeping them open.

But the thought of falling asleep and only having Joren nearby to look after her kept her conscious to a great degree.

Someone cleared his throat. Startled, she flinched and opened her eyes wide. "Oh, Roald. It's you. What's up?"

Roald propped up a wooden cue against his shoulder. "The boys are killing me. Faleron especially. Nobody warned me that he could play billiards so well! I was told poker not billiards! This isn't fair!" he laughed out loud. He noticed Joren sitting beside her. "Stone, do you want to take my place? Someone's got to wipe that grin off his face."

Joren set his shot glass down on the bar top. "Sure. Anything that pisses off Thief Boy." He reached into his pocket and came up with enough Nobles to cover his expenses and set them down. "Let me see that."

The Vice President's son handed him the cue. Together, he and Kel watched the blonde stagger to the tables. They couldn't tell if he was drunk. His way of walking was still normal. Balance and poise were retained. She gave up trying to spot the signs and gestured for Roald to sit.

She took a moment to study him. Black hair parted on the side, combed over like a poster boy for the perfect country club son. His pensive features made him quite difficult to talk to sometimes. But then again, she was the same way when Cleon or Neal weren't influencing her. Roald seemed to understand that she was scrutinizing him.

"Like what you see? Or is it the other way?" he asked. Any eavesdropping stranger would think he was making a pass at her. But this was not the case. He was genuinely interested in what a friend saw in him.

Keladry scoured the room with her eyes until she spotted his Carthakian girlfriend. Lalasa was still in deep conversation with Fianola. The earlier tension shown between the couple had vanished while the two were apart. What did that all mean?

"Well?" he prompted her.

She turned back to him. Keladry ruefully smiled at him and took his hand in both hers. "I think you're fine. And whatever's going on will pass."

Roald's eyes softened. They glazed over just a bit. Maybe he was holding back tears. She couldn't tell. He sighed. "I sure hope so."

"I know you really care about her. I haven't known you two for that long. But the way we were all thrown together, we had no choice but to get close. And I'm happy that you two became even closer."

He touched the corner of one eye with his fingertip, trying to stop any tears from spilling over the edge of his eyelids. "I'm happy, too. I've never had a girlfriend before her, so I don't know what it's like. I knew there were bound to be bad times. I just hoped that they were few and far in between." Roald gnawed on his lower lip. Keladry idly wondered if it was him from whom she'd picked up the habit. He continued. "It's not even that big a deal, you know? Just a damn job."

"I know," she nodded. She didn't know it had been about a job, but if it was, then it would pass.

A muffled cry of outrage barely escaped Faleron's throat. They turned to look. Cleon was suppressing his laughter while Joren leaned on the edge of the pool table, tapping the butt of his cue methodically on the floor. The usually calm and composed other man with his New Yorker business hat tipped back on his head was not taking his loss well.

"I assume that though he may be a master of Poker that billiards was up for grabs," Roald commented.

"That shot was bloody impossible! How could he..." Faleron glared at Joren, who was smirking cockily back at him. "Bollux..."

"What did you just say?" Cleon's ears perked up. He'd always heard continual uses of the words 'fellow', 'chap', and 'bloody something' but this was a new one.

Faleron sighed. "At boarding school, half the teachers came with Port Legann accents. I can't help it if I picked up a few of their mannerisms!" He glared at the blonde across the table. "The game has yet to be won."

Joren spun the cue around once in his hand and then pointed it back on the table. "You're right. And after this, it will be."

A few minutes later, Cleon was consoling his friend who still couldn't believe he'd been defeated. Roald left Keladry to join them again. The somber attitude on both Roald's and Joren's faces had been lifted somewhat. For that she was happy. If she couldn't make them smile again, an innocent game of pool might as well been the peacemaker.

She leaned on her elbows, going back to staring at the baseball game again. A few older men were yelling at the umpire for some play she had just missed seeing. Northwatch Knights were down a point, but they would get it back. Their fans were certainly depending on it.

"This seat taken?" an unfamiliar voice spoke.

"Go ahead," she answered without looking. She turned and a wave of apprehension coursed through her body, making her hair stand on end.

The man next to her looked about Neal's age. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow and his earthy red tie was loosened around his neck. "Who are they playing against?"

She blinked. "Oh, uh..." Her mind searched for the name. Yellow and forest green uniforms could only mean... "Springdale."

He pointed his finger casually at the screen, noting the statistics running along the bottom. "I think Springdale's doing fine, being the Underdog and all."

"They've got Frederick Apollo for their pitcher. Good guy," she commented, while drumming her fingers on the bar top. She secretly hoped he didn't think that she was bored. That would be rude.

"But the Knights have Leonard Raynelle. He's their powerhouse hitter."

The two strangers began a well-developed conversation on baseball. Keladry hardly ever watched the game. Most of her knowledge came from the Riders when they invited her to watch sports with them upstairs. She couldn't believe all that was paying off. She was actually having an ordinary talk with a man she didn't know.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly. She'd stopped in the middle of a comparison of the experienced players and the new rookies. "I don't even know your name."

"Liam," he replied instantly, as if he'd been waiting for the opportunity. "And yours?"

"Keladry. Everyone calls me Kel."

He held out his hand to her. "Well, it is a pleasure meeting you, Kel. Maybe we could go out for a cup of coffee sometime, don't you think?"

Thwack!

A wooden cue slamming down on the bar top between them caused both Liam and Keladry to snatch back their hands. Keladry's mouth hung open in clear surprise. She turned to see who had struck. Joren withdrew the cue and twirled it in his right hand casually. The smirk on his face was by no means friendly. Malice was etched in his face.

"Stone!" she exclaimed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Friend of yours, I take it?" Liam asked evenly. His cool demeanor remained, though his and Joren's eyes were now locked in poisonous stares. She had never seen anyone respond so well to any of her partner's rude actions, and asked herself what it all meant.

She stood up. "Stone..."

"Have we met before?" Joren asked Liam, ignoring the angry young woman beside him.

Liam chuckled. He straightened his tie in a few swift tugs and got up as well. He placed his hands in his pockets and inhaled deeply like he were in a forest filled with fresh air. "Oh, but I most certainly never forget a face."

Joren peered at him suspiciously. "I have seen you before. I know you. I must know you."

Liam leaned forward and whispered so that Keladry couldn't hear. Though his first thought was to move away, Joren stayed where he was, still like a statue. "Perhaps you do know me. Don't be such an animal about it toward the lady, though. The last thing I need is another... jackal in my way." As an afterthought, he curtly nodded his head. "Mr. Stone."

"What's going on?" Keladry demanded.

The newcomer turned to her and kissed her hand. "Nothing, Miss Kel. I'll be taking my leave now. Is there a number to go with that beautiful smile of yours?"

Joren bristled. He silently mouthed the word 'NO' to her over Liam's shoulder. Keladry defiantly accepted the new acquaintance's outstretched wrist. She quickly typed her number into the man's ID/pager. Liam then took her hand and kissed it again like a true gentleman.

"Until next time," he bowed to her and swiftly retreated toward the exit. He was lost in the crowd of people before they could hear the door open to the cold night air.

Joren spun around and scowled at her. "I told you not to do that!"

"Why are you so mad?" She stood her ground. "He wasn't going to kill me!"

"I know that man from somewhere. He's up to no good," Joren warned. "The last thing I need is my partner slandering my reputation by--"

"By having a life? Get out of my face, Stone. I have a birthday to celebrate." She marched past him. He scowled and returned to the other three men waiting for him at the pool table. Without another incident to interrupt, he mercilessly trounced Faleron a second time and left.

Having nothing else to do, Keladry did unwrap her presents in front of her friends and comrades. She received a mall gift certificate from Lalasa. Fianola bought her a popular CD. Raoul, Buri, and (according to Buri) Flyndon gave her current version of the popular DJPF book The World's Most Dangerous Villains. She secretly treasured this book, because the last version she'd read was years ago.

"Open ours next!" Cleon urged. He bounced in his seat. Faleron frowned and put one hand on his friend's shoulder to hold him down. Keladry laughed. Their antics always cheered her up.

She reached for the hastily wrapped package. Most likely, Cleon had wrapped it. There were little bits of clear adhesive tape everywhere. She couldn't imagine Faleron being so messy, so it had to have been everyone's favorite redhead. "Hmm..."

She tore away the paper and opened the brown box.

"Movie passes to Shadow Monster Part 5 and an all-day expenses paid trip to Mithran Spas?" she cast curious glances at the two young men.

"The movie passes were my idea!" Cleon grinned.

"I bet," Neal muttered under his breath. He evaluated his aching and pained limbs. Did he have enough strength left to strangle the clown? No, probably not, he thought disappointedly.

She received a great big bear hug from Cleon that left her nearly breathless before continuing on to the last present. Neal sat next to her with a great anticipation for her reaction. She carefully undid the bow and ribbon around the box and tore through the fancy wrapping paper. She assumed this had been done professionally at the mall. The last personally wrapped presents she'd received from Neal had resembled Cleon's attempts.

After unpeeling layers of white tissue paper, she claimed her prize. A gilt frame in designs of flowers around a photograph of Neal, Owen, and herself sitting on top of a cafeteria table while their feet were on the benches. She recognized the uniforms as belonging to the Academy of Tortall. She was 16 in that picture, while Neal was 21 and Owen was 17.

She gently set the picture frame and photo on the table before her, using the support on the back to make it stay upright. Keladry didn't know what to say. She turned to her best friend and smiled. She hadn't smiled so naturally in months. First Conal, then this.

"Thank you."

Neal shrugged his shoulders imperceptibly. He shook his head gently. "I was digging through my photo album because I was afraid I'd forgotten what he looked like." He smiled weakly, trying not to show that he was becoming upset. "I forgot his face, Kel. It's Owen for crying out loud. It's us."

"I know," she replied. She bumped shoulders with him. "Hey, now. No more of this. Owen would laugh his head off if he were here."

"If he were."

"He's coming back Neal. And then you two can start calling me Tough Stuff again."

He chuckled. "Why wait?"

~~~

"Ooh. Your bike is actually finished," Cleon commented as they parked in the garage. Keladry took the key out of the ignition. The hover car slowly set itself down on the ground. She got out and approached her motorcycle.

She surveyed it for the new features and for any tricks that her blonde partner might have left behind. He wouldn't. If he ever had the notion to play a trick on me, he wouldn't take it out on a bike. He loves all of them. It's the only thing he loves.

Fianola pulled into the garage along with the rest of the Riders plus Neal. She parked in the space next to them and got out.

"Good night, all. And Happy Birthday, Kel. I'd say more, but I'm dead tired and it's freezing," Fianola yawned. Pocketing her keys, she spun on her heel. She held her arms out to Prosper. "Pwease?"

The older Rider rolled his eyes and turned his back to her, bending his knees. She climbed onto his back and latched her arms around his neck. Prosper never failed to be anything less than the best older brother in the world-- even if Fianola wasn't his real little sister. They approached the elevator with Cleon and Qasim.

Dom gave Neal's hopeful expression the evil eye. "Don't even think about it."

"Aww, come on."

"No way. Get into the wheelchair."

"But--"

"No 'buts'. Get." He pointed to the chrome wheelchair like a dog's master would to the door. Neal sighed and raised himself off the car seat. He managed to painfully extract himself from the van and sit himself down in the wheelchair. Dom wheeled him over to Kel and also took his turn admiring the motorcycle.

She ruffled Neal's hair when she saw the sour look on his face. "Hey, at least you're not in the hospital anymore. I bet you'll be fine by tomorrow."

"I am fine! Nobody believes me!"

Dom poked Neal's bicep lightly.

"OW! Quit it!"

"Sure. Of course you're fine."

Later, when Keladry was back in her apartment, getting ready for bed, she started to wonder about the man she'd met at the pool hall, Liam. Something inside her agreed with Joren. There was a bad vibe to the charming stranger. Almost the same sorts of vibe she'd received when she'd met the silver haired man, Enishi Yukishiro.

She shuddered. Perhaps it had been a bad thing to have given Liam her number.

Don't be paranoid. He's a handsome guy. And if he tries anything, I can always break his arm. Years of combat training aren't going to let me down.

Keladry almost hoped that Liam wouldn't contact her at all. She didn't date. If he were to call her and set up a time for coffee and a little conversation, it would definitely be a date. She didn't need this sort of pressure! As a very important and highly skilled First Class officer of the DJPF, she had to concentrate on her work!

I am such a prude and a busybody, she inwardly groaned. She threw her coat on the couch as well as her bag of gifts. Stretching her arms over her head, she yawned and headed toward the bathroom. While squeezing toothpaste out of the tube, she looked up at the mirror.

"Twenty-one," she said aloud. She turned her head this way and that, trying to pick up a feature that definitely stood out as twenty-one. A freckle under her left eye, her serious eyebrows-- it was all so commonplace. There was nothing new about her. Another year had passed and she was still the same boring Keladry Mindelan.

And yet, comparing herself on the inside, she found many differences. A year ago exactly, she wouldn't nearly be expressing as many emotions as she expressed now. People like Neal had to respect her need for space. Other people, like Cleon and Faleron had done this as well.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," Cleon said as they walked back to their rooms in the Academy. "But you look like you listen, even if you're trying to remain emotionless." He snickered. "I'll tell you something, you can't pull it off. To be emotionless is to be a jackass like Stone there downstairs. You're just trying to remain distanced. And I can respect that."

Keladry certainly wasn't trying to be as distanced as she was a year ago. There were still a lot of things that she was reluctant to do, but by all means, she was definitely closer to people than last year. She was actually very proud of herself. Leaving her self vulnerable to injury and hurt with other people also left her self open to great things like joy and happiness.

After finishing her whole nightly routine, she crawled into bed and turned off the light. It had been a good birthday. It was a little confusing, and very awkward, but it had been the best one she'd ever had.

~~~

Keladry woke up to the sound of doorbells-- her doorbell, really, ringing over and over again. She kicked back the covers clumsily and yawned. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and groaned a tiny bit as she stood up. Her body's minor aches and pains protested such quick movements. It didn't seem right that at the age of 21, she was already waking up feeling like she was 40. Next thing she knew, she'd most likely be going to physical therapy and complaining of arthritis.

"Wonder who this is," she muttered sleepily while exiting the bedroom. "Stop it already!" she called because of the continual ringing. Of course, her visitor couldn't hear her. She didn't even bother to check the peephole or ask the person(s)' name, and let the door slide open.

At the last second, she realized what a mess she might look, at 6:30 in the morning with a long sleeved white T-shirt, a pair of shorts, and a pair of baby blue socks. Ah well. It wasn't like an important person visited her at every hour. Who could it be? Flyndon? A chuckle escaped her throat.

Or a Rider. One of them could be desperately trying to avoid the rest of their team. Every so often, they had disputes and the odd one out would duck into a non-Rider's apartment for a night or two. She honestly didn't feel like having a houseguest, but she was too kind to say no.

"Ahem?"

Her eyes widened at the sound of the voice.

"Er... Chief Flyn..."

The older man nodded his head in greeting to her. He cleared his throat. At once, Keladry stepped hastily to the side to allow him entrance. She stifled another yawn behind her hand and resisted the impulse to slap her cheeks so as to wake herself up. She combed her fingers through her hair unconsciously, trying to tidy up her appearance in front of her boss.

Flyndon Whiteford didn't seem to care. He glanced back into the hall, as if expecting more people to arrive. For the first time since she opened the door, Keladry noticed that there were noises all around. People were talking in loud voices, doors were being abruptly closed and opened.

"I was told you'd be awake at this hour. Officer Kennan told me you woke before the sun, on a regular basis."

She blinked. "I was up late last night celebrating my birthday, Chief."

"Yes, yes. I was told about that, too." He held his hands behind his back and nodded again. "Anyway, that isn't why I'm here. The whole complex is being called out to work. Buri's people, my people, and Raoul's."

Keladry frowned. "What happened?"

Flyndon scratched his chin. He sighed and glanced down at his feet, as if there were cue cards on the floor for him to read off of. Keladry tilted her head to the side a bit, trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes. He finally spoke.

"During the early morning hours, every single bank in Tusaine was robbed."

That's impossible! her mind cried.

"Every single one?"

He coughed. "All except the Mithran United. I don't believe I have to tell you that that bank is the central bank of this city." He gestured toward her bedroom. "Get dressed, Officer. You're on call right now, along with the rest of the residents of this apartment complex. I believe the rest of your partners are assembled on the elevated walkway. You will be briefed there."

She nodded vigorously. "Yes, Sir!"

How is that possible? There is something like almost thirty small business banks in this huge city! How can all of them be robbed unless... there are greater forces at work here. Sounds like something the Organized Crime Division will take over soon, or in this case, Buri.

Keladry closed the door after him again and sprinted to her closet to get her field uniform on. She fumbled with her Hyperion Bands. It took exactly one second to snap each one on, and so she continued putting the links on for the next three minutes. She fitted her other clothing and gear over that and grabbed her weapons last.

Before she proceeded to the door, she stopped in her kitchen and drank half a glass of water. There was no need to be sleepy and dehydrated. This new operation could last a while. She set the glass down in the sink carefully and left for the outdoor walkway.

She collided with another person the second she stepped into the hall.

"Oof!"

Hands gloved in black leather gripped her shoulders to steady both of them. She locked her knees and braced herself against the imbalance. "Whoa, Mindelan. Slow down! The level of high alert has every officer from here to five miles outside of town on call. There's no rush."

"Stone!" she exclaimed.

He eyed her. "Why so surprised? If you hadn't noticed, I live here, too."

"Er, sorry," she mumbled.

"You should be," he replied icily, no tact for her feelings. He started toward the elevator. "Well, come on. They're waiting for us."

She glared daggers at his back, but followed without saying anything further. They arrived on the second floor without bumping into each other again. Joren seemed more awake and alert than she was. He'd probably woken up the second that a squad car had pulled up outside. She remembered without difficulty how easily Joren could be awakened or interrupted.

At a pin drop, she mused, if he's annoyed enough.

She looked over the side of the walkway and saw units of officers being briefed. Lines of squad cars and motorcycles left the underground garage in a mass of sirens and flashing lights. Other residents of the neighborhood were out on their lawns, clad in slippers, robes, and curlers. They watched the commotion and began gossiping about the reason. The chill would drive them back in soon enough.

A media van pulled up below, setting down on the ground as the hovering stopped. A woman in a gray feminine suit and large gold earrings practically jumped out, flanked by her camera man and another man with a headset. They raced towards the closest officer, who was directing traffic out of the community's main public parking lot.

Keladry could feel the goose bumps on her flesh out there in the cold early morning air. Little rays of sunshine were already spilling over the horizon, but not enough to have called it sunrise. The air would only become warmer when the sun was up, and that might be a few more minutes. Keladry rubbed her upper arms and shivered.

"You forgot your jacket, right?" Cleon observed.

Chief Flyndon was talking, but she ignored her superior at the moment to answer the redhead. "I guess I did. I'll get it after briefing is over."

He nodded and without another word, removed his own dark green jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She mouthed a silent "thank you" and he mouthed something that was like "don't mention it". They tuned back in to Flyndon.

Among the small group were a few of Flyndon's officers from the first floor, a couple of Buri's Second Class investigators and detectives, Cleon, and her. She wondered where Joren had gone. She spotted Buri and Joren at the other end of the walkway talking with Buri's own intelligence agents. Keladry hardly saw Buri's people. The division was always shrouded in mystery. She wondered what they did half the time.

"The Marshall and his people are already accompanying the chase vehicles for the suspects that were spotted at Tusaine National." Here he started to mutter. "Not that he should be. A Marshall's duty is to the federal courts, and here he is, butting in on my jurisdiction again. He and Buri are always doing this to me!" He cleared his throat and began to speak to the rest of them again.

"Those suspects are the only ones we've spotted so far. The rest have eluded pursuit." He reached into his coat and drew out a small database with a projecting window. He pointed it at the ground. Automatically, some officers backed up so there was room.

A map of the city was projected onto the floor of the walkway. A second officer, at the youngest... thirty-five with a freshly shaved face and eyes red from lack of sleep, took the projector from Flyndon while the DJPF Chief also took out a laser pointer to use on the map.

"The chase has been thus far, from 1st Street to Bridgington Boulevard. We have enough people on that, so all that's left is to secure the other locations." He motioned for the officer holding the projector to highlight the banks. In a few seconds, yellow spots appeared on the map where the banks were located. "Nine main branches of banks and eighteen minor banks were robbed between the hours of one and four this morning." He tapped the aiding officer's arm. "Go ahead and turn that off, Symric.

"The minor banks were easier to take care of. No guards, just security systems. They were hit first and fast. Officers flocked to each bank. That was enough distraction for the remainder of whatever band of suspects there were to strike at the main branch banks. The security guards posted at these banks had already been alerted when the other minor banks were infiltrated. But from what we understand, the suspects were greater in number and skill." He paused. "They had common sense enough to take out guards and then the security camera right after they entered, so there is a chance that there were more of them."

Keladry raised her hand to get his attention. "If the times of robbery are spaced out enough, may we assume that some suspects robbed one bank and moved on to another? Or does every single branch have its own unique set of criminals?"

He responded quickly enough that she assumed that the idea had already been brought up. "We may, but until we can identify them, we won't know." He addressed the whole group. "Now, when you arrive at your assigned location, I want every single one of you on high alert." He scratched his forehead. "The Feds are sending out their third class newbies to do their damn fingerprinting and whatever else those guys usually do, so you're going to have to baby-sit them. Be warned! They will spaz at the first sign of gunfire."

A few officers in the group snickered. Cleon elbowed Keladry lightly in the side. She put on a brief smile to show she was amused, too, although she could have cared less.

"Jameson, Pedion-- you go to Niffup National. Meet Clyde there and he'll set you two to work. Gerard and Nialliv-- relieve Abbey and Tsutomu from the chase. If Raoul yells for you to get out of his way, then do it. Fall back and follow the Marshall. I'll have his hide yet." Some laughter erupted from a few Second Class men and women.

He turned to the remaining officers. "The rest of you are at Mithran United. I don't know what these scum have planned, but they most likely will finish the job by hitting the last bank. You First Classes are in charge. And yes, Wolset, before you ask." He rubbed his forehead in a sign of weariness. "That does mean that you can order the Second Class SWAT team around, too. Move out!"

The officer next to the one holding the projector blushed and grinned. Symric handed the projector back to Flyndon and raced toward the elevators like the rest of the officers were. Keladry and Cleon ran at the back of the pack, trying to keep up while talking.

Cleon was fit, but talking while running was just something he couldn't do well. "You... really think they're... gonna hit Mithran United?"

Keladry pulled him out of the way from a departing hover bike with a Second Class officer on it. Out of the group just ordered by Flyndon to go with them, there were four First Classes (including herself, Cleon, Wolset, and Symric), and then six Second Classes from Buri's division . Most of their fellow officers were older, save for Wolset. Wolset was also 22, like Cleon. He'd been a favorite of Flyndon's and a good buddy of Dom's prior to Kel's move to Tusaine.

It must have been a difficult task to get into Flyndon's good graces at such a young age. Had Wolset been a workaholic like her? Or had he gotten a lucky break and done something that rewarded him with his status. She didn't want to disprove his skills, but if she had worked so hard to get where she was, she'd be damned if he'd had an easy climb up.

His mostly sunny disposition reminded her of Cleon, and yet, Wolset had much more control and maturity than the copper-headed sharp shooter. While Cleon acted like a man wanting to be a boy again, Wolset reminded her of a boy disguising himself as a man. His physical features were boyish. Curly locks of brown muted with a tinge of dark gray. She couldn't describe the color very well, but it reminded her of the dead bark of trees in the harsh middle of winter. He had tiny freckles around his eyes and thin lips. She wouldn't have noticed the freckles a few weeks before. the blotches of dark on his skin indicated that he was just started to shed skin from his summer tan. His eyes? Ocean blue.

"I haven't had an assignment like this in a while," Wolset said as he joined them. Theirs was the last squad car to leave, so he was bumming a ride in the back seat. The got into the hover car and sped out of the parking lot. "It's mostly been mafia and gang wars for the last few years."

"No kidding," Cleon replied. He patted his right ear. "Stupid sirens always annoy the hell out of me! Are we there yet?"

"Are you ever going to stop asking that question when we're in a car?" Keladry asked, exasperated. She made a hard left just to fling him around.

He braced himself against the window. "I can't help it!" He settled back into his seat as she turned the wheel back again and began driving with more caution. "Boy, am I happy to finally be getting some First Class action."

"What do you call what we did two days ago?!"

"That's an isolated incident, isn't it? Noll wasn't apart of some syndicate trying to get Lalasa for conspiracy-like reasons! All these banks getting robbed in one night! That is so a conspiracy!"

"There have to be something like five or more suspects in charge... key players in a conspiracy. Those suspects have to be like... the mayor taking bribes, or the weapons dealer on the corner, all setting up lies and deceptions to throw us off. You think that's what this is?" she challenged.

He threw his hands up. "You know what I mean! This is just like the thing that I heard in the news of something that went down in Pirate's Swoop. You think we'll get interviewed?"

Wolset interrupted. "I thought that almost everyone in the complex had a no-speak order placed on him or her. Personally, I hate reporters."

"Yeah, well, I'd like to get to know that blonde from Channel 46. You think she digs redheads?"

"Cleon! Focus here!"

"But I am focusing," he whined. "I'm focusing in on my future wife!"

She rolled her eyes. "Wife? Sure..."

"What, you don't think I could get a girl like that?"

"I don't think you want a girl like that." She shrugged. "Probably drag the microphone with her into bed and try to interview you at 2 AM in the morning." She glanced at him. "Besides, aren't you madly in love with Kalasin?"

Her copper headed friend groaned and slumped in his seat, shoving the seat belt away from his face. "I hate monogamy! I hate it!" He sighed. "Do you think they'll legalize polygamy anytime soon?"

She and Wolset laughed at him and before they knew it, they had arrived at Mithran United. Keladry was still memorizing her way around the city, so she stared at the digital map above the gages and tried to imprint it upon her mind.

"Okay, boys. Let's go." She turned off the car, waiting for it to set itself gently down before getting out. She opened Wolset's door for him since the back seat was designed so suspects couldn't break out or attempt to injure the passengers in the front seat.

They jogged up the twenty stone steps leading up from the street onto the plaza where the bank was located. Most of the bank was set in stone, designed by architects trying to imitate neo-classical designs from ancient-founded Corus. A statue of a lion was set in front of the main doors. It was actually a manmade fountain. Five spouts surrounded the lion's feet and sprayed water into the air, creating little ripples in the fountain's pale blue pool.

"Why does the lion face in?" she asked rhetorically out loud. Of course it was a stupid question, with no answer. It was some arbitrary feature to the plaza.

"Kel, come on," Cleon urged. "Let's get inside and see what's going down. We can order around the lower class officers! It'll cheer you up!" He held up a scolding finger at her. "We have this wonderful opportunity where we are the ones in charge (rightly deserved!) and I'll be darned if we don't use it!"

She glimpsed from the corner of her range of vision. "Give me a second." She narrowed her eyes and let out a deep breath. There's something wrong with this statue. What's so wrong with it? Then it came to her. "Hey, Cleon, if you were designing a plaza that opened on one side to the streets and public parking garage, which way would you face the lion?"

He scratched his head, shrugging as he answered. "Uh, I'd face it toward the street so people would see it when they came up the steps."

"Well, this one doesn't face the street, does it?"

"Yeah, so? The builders just goofed, or the bankers want to keep the view of the lion to themselves. It's no big deal." He grabbed her gloved hand. "Come on, already! Symric's yelling for us."

Since she was unable to find anything amiss, she walked with him into the bank. The rotating doors of glass were spotless, as were the brass bars placed on the door. As soon as they were inside, she could heard the echoes of her boot heels clicking on the white and cream marble floor.

Keladry looked up, and realized there was a second floor to the bank, and the balcony surrounding the main area was made of stone. Bullets repeatedly fired in one area could send a chunk of builder's stone onto a person standing below. She hoped it would never happen. Same thing with the glass chandelier, she thought, tilting her head back evens further to see the ceiling. The ceiling, besides having a glass chandelier, had paintings on it, surrounding the chandelier center in a circle so that the lighting was an advantage.

"What's on the second floor?" she asked, and tugged on a person's coarse-textured sleeve to her left without taking her eyes off her topic of question.

"Uh... that's where one goes to open an account, or settle financial problems. It's mostly offices and cubicles, but all the employees are down here like Symric ordered." There was a pause. "Unless you wanted to interrogate the fax machines and computers... it can be arranged."

She looked at the sardonic speaker to discover having grabbed a Second Class DJPF officer on the SWAT team instead of Cleon, who had wandered to the group of bank employees and officers on the other side of the room. The man was a little over her height, and his build was hard to determine under the heavy black gear he was required to wear. The SWAT teams and bomb squads weren't so lucky as the rest of the officers in the DJPF because they were required to wear stronger armor than Hyperion Bands.

Keladry was somewhat intimidated by his confident brown eyes against olive skin... straight and proud nose and strong chin. His hair was black and cut like Faleron's hair-- short and flattened against his head instead of sticking out. It was a bit longer than Faleron's hair, though. There was no way she could mistake him for her former thief of a friend since their heights were obviously different. He could never be on the front of a celebrity magazine, but he wasn't ugly. His appearance was merely average. Keladry shocked herself by realizing that she preferred average.

"Er..." She blinked three times in row, wondering how she could get herself out of the little spot of embarrassment. That's what you get for tugging without looking. She peered at him closely, in a way that she reserved for people she was trying to recognize. Perhaps she'd seen him around...

"Ulliver Linden. You... grabbed my arm?" he supplied when he noticed the type of look she was giving him. He flashed her a bemused, yet amused smile.

"Right," she nodded, as if the description was the very explanation of humanity's existence. "Sorry. Very. I meant... to, um... grab him." She pointed to Cleon. She could have kicked herself for being unable to form more than one-word sentences. She resolved to stop stuttering and breathed in deep. She was one of the people in charge at the moment and she wasn't making a good first impression! "I'm sorry. You just caught me off guard, Officer Linden. So I assume the vault is still here on the main floor behind the tellers, correct?"

He nodded, slinging the strap of his semi-automatic assault rifle over his right shoulder. "You assume correctly, Officer..." he squinted at the pager on her wrist. "Mindelan. Hmm, nice name. Anyway, have you any orders for my men and me besides the orders that the loudmouth over there gave?" He indicated Symric. "Because honestly, I think there's more here than meets the eye."

Keladry glanced about. "I don't have any orders at the moment." She looked down at her pager to discover her jacket sleeve had fallen over it. "Oh, great. Cleon!" She took off the green jacket and threw it at the approaching redhead. "Sorry. You must be freezing."

"It's all good," he shrugged and put on the jacket. His arms had been in fact a tad bit chilly, but she had no need to know that. He squinted at the weapon that Ulliver was carrying. "Is that a Stoner Sr-5 assault rifle? No way! I haven't seen one of those since..." he stopped when he noticed the pain in his left Triceps from Keladry pinching it through his Hyperion Bands. "Owie!" He calmed down. "Sorry."

Ulliver grinned. "I like variety in my arsenal. The other boys have the more top of the line toys." He paused and laughed nervously. "That rhymed. I'm so sorry. Didn't mean to be corny."

"It's okay," Kel assured him. There went all her chances for her and Cleon to look dignified in front of the others.

"Aw man, I'd like to have been in SWAT," Cleon said dreamily. "That probably would have happened if I hadn't been promoted straight to First Class."

"Only so many of us could be so lucky," Ulliver commented with a hint of derision.

Keladry pinched Cleon again. He yelped and rubbed his arm. "Right! Uh, sorry to leave so soon. I think Wolset's calling for me!"

After he was gone, Keladry coughed lightly. "I'm sorry about that. He can be a bit insensitive about things, like classes."

"Perfectly fine. I'd have liked to have a guy like him in my squad. Knows his guns."

"He's a sharpshooter. He loves guns." By Glory, I'm actually making conversation like I did last night with Liam. Why am I doing this? Does turning 21 mean entering a flirt-fest? She snapped to attention and moved one foot forward to start walking. "Since you arrived here earlier than my people, Officer Linden, do you mind telling me what's been done so far?"

He took the hint and started walking with her toward the tellers' desks. "I'm sure you've already been told that all the banks in the city save for this one have been closed due to the robberies."

She hadn't been informed, but it made sense and so, she remained silent.

"The first impulse was to close this bank down, too, but the fact is... people have to do their banking. It's of a financial importance to some citizens who have debts, or are in serious need to withdraw money from their accounts. So, they've kept this one open, and are letting in clients and customers in small groups only after they've been through the metal detector and what not outside." He gestured to his SWAT team and the other officers inside the bank. "The perimeters are secure, we have an 2 to 1 ration of officers to bank employees, and the vault is perfectly safe."

Keladry nodded her approval. "And do we have a course of action, should anything happen?"

"What did you have in mind?" he asked, a little inflection in his voice that caused her to swallow hard. She rattled her brain for a scenario.

"A suspect, maybe more... get past the metal detector and inspections with a weapon and try to take a teller hostage while his accomplices break into the vault."

He pointed upwards. "There are camouflaged snipers on the second floor, ready to take any guy out without hurting the hostage. There's also a hostage negotiator here, if I'm not mistaken. All tellers are flanked by at least one officer. The vault is only opened twice a day, and there are three employees that all must enter their codes to open it. Two of those employees aren't here."

"Impressive."

"Thank you. I take that to heart since you are a glorious First Class and I'm still in this less-than-worthy 'Second Caste'. I'm sure four of you are worth more than my entire squad."

Keladry couldn't tell whether or not he was complimenting her or being sarcastic again. She could feel her face becoming hotter. Was she flushed? Okay, why has their been an increase in smooth talking men in my life? First Faleron, then Yukishiro, Liam, and now this guy? Glory! What am I supposed to do?! I don't even know if he's insulting me or not! "Officer Linden, you have no need to say such things. Your squad is as close to First Class as some other officers could ever hope to be. You practically are First Class in all respects except name."

"And privilege," he added. "Oh, and pay check. Can't forget that one."

"The skill is the important thing."

"I'll remember that, Officer."

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting?" Wolset asked as he came to stand between them.

Keladry took a step backward to give Ulliver and him space. "No, of course not. What is it?"

"Gerard, Nialliv, and the Riders apprehended four suspects they'd chased from the Roget Bank at the end of Bridgington Boulevard. We'll hear from Chiefy when he and Buri have finished their questioning." He rested a friendly hand on Ulliver's shoulder. "Hey, Linden. How's your girlfriend? It was Maureen, right?"

Keladry winced. There was a part of her that wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Another part of her wanted to stuff a gag in Ulliver's mouth to keep him from smooth-talking ever again. Wolset clearly had no idea of what was going through her head because he continued. Why was she even getting riled up? She wasn't attracted to Ulliver.

It was simply the fact that he talked to her like Liam had the night before. She wasn't a busybody freak and she wasn't beyond the normal day-to-day activities of others. Kel liked that feeling, and she liked the people who gave her that feeling.

"She was a hot number if I remember. You're a lucky guy, head of your squad and got that lady of yours..."

I haven't known you for long, Wolset, but I swear I wouldn't mind sending a letter home to your folks saying you died in a horrible 'accident'! Keladry thought.

"Oh, um, Maureen left me, Wolsie." At the nickname, Keladry frowned, but otherwise chose not to interrupt. "I've sort of decided to stay out of relationships for a while."

"Oh." He nodded sympathetically. Then he noticed how Keladry was glaring at him. "OH! Um, I'd better go. Symric's calling me."

He left as hurriedly as Cleon had, leaving Ulliver very confused and Keladry very humiliated. She scratched the side of her nose. Why did people always scratch their heads or necks when they were nervous? She knew. When a person was nervous, sometimes they got this prickling feeling in their skin where the skin cells contracted around hair follicles. This caused hairs to stand on end and also to give goose bumps. Usually, only cold temperatures and environments provoked this, but anxiety could do the same thing. Her skin itched under its Hyperion Bands.

Was it because she was cold or because she was nervous?

"Anyway," she began. "Who do you suppose is involved in these grand scale robberies?"

Ulliver adjusted the strap of the assault rifle hanging from his shoulder. He must have been warm under all that gear and body armor. Were the lead vests warm? Hyperion Bands served the same purpose, but there were types of bullets that could pierce them. Kevlar vests were much more reliable. They worked for most types of ammunition. He must have been warm.

"I think they're new, whoever they are. I've been in Tusaine for a long time, and I know the trends of crime around here. It's the Mob against the Other Mob and then...there are drugs, extortion, murder, prostitution, and loan sharks... small time theft, grand theft auto. The Mafia," he trailed off. "The Mob and the Mafia aren't the same, contrary to some ignorant people's belief."

"I know," she nodded. "So, really, no one in Tusaine robs banks?"

"No. They seem to be limiting themselves to organized crime and the such. I mean, you get your embezzlers now and then, but they never make it past the front door before they're caught."

Keladry had always thought that Tusaine was Metropolis and Carthak was Gotham City. Perhaps it was different. Perhaps Tusaine turned into Carthak at night and she'd never realized it before because she was still awe-struck whenever she walked around the city during the day, admiring its beauty.

"Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if you'd already run into a Mafioso and not even realized it."

"What makes you say that?" she asked wearily.

He chuckled. "Well, the city's crawling with them. They're so well behaved in public that no one can tell them apart from your Average Joe."

"I see. Thank you for the heads-up, Officer Linden."

"No prob," he replied. "I've got go keep my boys in line. Perhaps you'd better get back to your own as well."

She nodded. "Right... right. I'll do that. We'll talk later, Officer Linden."

"Major Linden, really. I'm the head of the SWAT team, after all," he added at the last moment. He inclined his head. "Talk to you later, Officer Mindelan. Or should I say Commander?"

He was starting to piss her off with that perpetual hint of sarcasm in his voice. Some things he said were quite charming, but Keladry saw now that it was just plain annoying. She rejoined Cleon, Wolset, and Symric. They were watching a few civilians file in, looking pale as sheets while clutching their briefcases or handbags with white knuckles that were drained of blood from clutching so tightly.

They look like they're going to piss in their pants, she observed. It was a little cruel of her to think that way, but that's exactly what the bank's clients looked like as they scurried in and out. She bet they were expecting an attack at any moment. If I were one of them, I'd probably expect it, too.

"Good news," Wolset said, snagging her attention. "Money from three of the minor banks was recovered from the four suspects that were caught in the chase. You were right, Mindelan, they did go bank hopping."

"Bank-hopping?" She'd never heard the phrase before.

"Aw, you know... how people go plane hopping? They get on one after another... and with bank-hopping..." He gazed at her with an empathy.

She waved him off, a little snappy from her morning. "I get it, I get it!" After the group of bank customers had filed up, another group was led in. "What time is it?"

"About 9:20. The line of civilians outside is starting to build up," Cleon commented as he glanced outside the window. "Symric, when do those two other employees that can open the vault show up?"

"Not for another three hours," the bossy older man answered from where he was directing other Second Class officers.

Cleon groaned. "Well I give up. There's nothing to do but wait."

Keladry's pager started beeping. She lifted her wrist to eye level and read the message. "Dom wants to talk."

"I think there's a COM-screen over there."

"No, he's in a hurry. I'll just waste my battery and talk to him through the pager," she responded and excused herself from the group. After settling next to a column of marble near the rotating glass doors, she pressed a few buttons and waited for Dom's voice to float over the tiny receiver.

"Hello, Kel. I can only hope that Flyn hasn't ordered you out of your apartment yet."

"You're out of luck. I'm at Mithran United."

He muttered something incoherent. "It was just that I need somebody to look after Neal. He is getting better, like he claims, but I don't want him to trip and fall and then be prone on the floor for hours..."

I don't think he could ever be that helpless, but guess it could happen. "I see."

"Do you know anyone left in the complex willing to play nurse for a while? Just until I get back."

"Both buildings were turned upside down and shaken out. Every officer is on this crisis right now."

"No kidding. Well, do you know anyone else who might be free?"

She mulled over the options. "If you want to risk the wrath of Councilwoman Daine Sarrasri, you can call Roald, Lalasa, and Faleron at her office. You've met them before."

"Yeah, yeah. We just saw them last night. Why do you say I'd be risking Ms. Sarrasri's wrath?"

Keladry grimaced. "It's just that I or someone else always ends up begging her to let Roald and Lalasa off work to be with us." She paused. "You'd have the best of luck with Roald. He hardly ever takes breaks from... whatever it is that he does."

"Alright then. I'll look the number up right now. Thanks!"

"You're welcome. Bye." She terminated the connection. Roald would probably love to get away from work. Or at least, take a break from his little hardships with Lalasa. Keladry had no idea how long the period of uncertainty and resentment was going to last between t he two of them, but if she knew them well enough- they would eventually make up and live happily ever after.

She'd strayed into the path of the rotating doors without realizing it. Her shoulder hit someone else entering the bank. "Whoops!" she said to the man carrying two boxes of donuts. He was dressed as a detective from the Feds. She could see his badge peeking out from under his coat. "Sorry!"

"It's okay. Excuse me," he said and headed towards some scared bank tellers.

The tellers are allowed to leave the bank because of security measures. He was kind to bring them some food.

"Okay," the detective said. "Go ahead and have the first box now, but wait until lunch for the second box, okay? I don't feel like going on so many food runs."

The tellers thanked him and attacked the first box of donuts as soon as it was set down on the counter. Cleon was close to drooling. "Do you think they have those vanilla creme ones? Or powdered is nice. I like powdered ones."

"They're not for you."

"So? I didn't have breakfast either, you know!"

"Neither did I. You and I get a break at lunch, you know that. So don't fret over food right now, okay?"

He sighed melodramatically. "Okay. But I just want you to know that you're killing me right now! I can see the headlines right now: Handsome Redhead Stud Of An Officer Starves In Tusaine Bank!"

"Too long," Keladry told him. "Try Clown Cries Vanilla Creme Crisis."

"Ooh. I like."

Hours passed. Keladry patrolled numerous winding paths within and outside Mithran United to keep herself occupied. Symric took on the role of the commander while Wolset did his best to disrupt Symric and Symric's orders. The older officer was apt to point out that he'd had years of more experience than the 22-year-old had. Wolset was, in turn, eager to point out that the more talented of the two (namely, himself) didn't need that many years to up himself in the ranks.

The battle of wits continued between the two rivals while the Second Class officers watched for a brawl to break out. They were even making bets to see who would win. Most of them were for Wolset because he had his youthful body. Some practical ones bet on Symric for his experience and stamina.

It was about half past 11 when Keladry came downstairs for her lunch break. She'd ignored the war of wits between the only other First Class officers in Mithran United besides Cleon and her. It appeared as another pointless Testosterone War to her. She'd seen her fair share of the types, and she regrettably wished she hadn't.

Cleon had been seated on the top of a counter separating the tellers from the bank's clients. He yawned and groaned when she was within hearing range. "Please tell me it's time to eat!"

Keladry checked the digital clock on her pager. She eyed how antsy Cleon was acting. He fidgeted and bit his lip. Like the scared customers who entered the bank, he also looked like he wasn't going to be able to contain himself.

"Yeah, I'd say it's about time. The box of donuts is still there, Mr. Vanilla Creme."

Cleon jumped off his seat and whooped, pumping a fist into the air. "Oh yeah!"

"Is something wrong?" Symric called. He'd mistaken Cleon's shout of joy as a shout of ambush or attack. When he saw who'd caused the noise, he growled loudly. "Get him under control!"

Keladry nodded and turned around to see her friend duck and weave through a line of civilians. Cleon yelled an apology to a robust man with a beard after bumping into him. He made a distinct beeline for the food that had been untouched for hours. Wolset snickered as he moved to stand besides her, having taken his own break from his battle with the bossy Symric.

The new acquaintance pointed a thumb in the sharpshooter's direction. "Is he always like this about food?"

"Not usually." She paused and grimaced. "If it were his best friend, though... the lunch break wouldn't even matter." She thought about Faleron's insatiable desire for all things sweet and delectable. "Yup. They're terrible."

Wolset laughed. "So do you think Sym will let us out of the plaza to get a bite to eat? We've been cooped up in here for hours!"

Keladry shrugged. "I don't--"

"SHIT!"

Everyone in the whole entire bank whirled around wherever they were to see Cleon stumble back from the teller's counter, landing on his butt. He scrambled to his feet, panting hard and pointing at the open donut box.

"I swear! I didn't do anything!" he cried. His voice rose and fell with apprehension and distress. "I just opened the box!"

Several people ran over to where he was standing, Kel included. Cleon ducked behind her and Wolset, peering fretfully over their shoulders.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The red face of a digital clock attached with wires to a black casing that seemed like it was coming straight out of an action movie. The methodical and precise ticking of the timer echoed with each second passing by, sounding their doom. Keladry shivered and involuntarily stepped back.

A bomb.

All at once, Symric and Wolset both began shouting orders, most of which didn't contradict each other. That was good, Keladry thought absently, because good portions of the persons around were panicking enough as it was. Cleon squeezed her arm.

"That box has been here for hours! How come no one noticed it was ticking?"

"I... I don't know," she answered. She took a deep breath and set her shoulders straight and her head high. "Start evacuating civilians and tellers with the rest of the SWAT team." She shook off his grip and whistled to Ulliver, who was the only one nearby with any rank.

"Hey! How about diffusing that thing? I don't like how it says 29:01 minutes left!"

He jogged over, his brow furrowed. "Look! We're not the bomb squad! There are only so many fucking things we can do!"

She impatiently glanced around her. "Well, has someone alerted the bomb squad yet?"

"Yeah, I think Wolsie's on it."

There is a bomb.

She closed her eyes and cursed under her breath. "How did it make it past the detectors?"

Time is running out. There is a bomb and time is running out.

"We're still trying to figure that out."

How big will the explosion be? Will the building collapse? Will I die?

She swore louder this time, so overcome with stress that she ignored her usual practice of non-swearing. "The Detective who brought in donuts! There was a box of real donuts and then the other box was supposed to be for lunch!" She balled up her fists. "Damn it!"

Death won't look so good on your record. Hey! How can I be so selfish? I'm a perfectionist, and I'm sorry for my thoughts! I can't help it! I just don't want that damn thing to explode! I don't want to die and I certainly don't want anyone else to either!

Idly, Keladry wondered if she was having going to have a panic attack. After a bit of shivering and the sensation of something squeezing her chest really tightly, she got back the control she needed and also started giving orders like Wolset and Symric were. All the tellers and civilians were being evacuated, but the tellers were kept in custody for questioning.

It was possible that one of the tellers planted the bomb since they'd crowded around the donut boxes earlier that morning. Several officers led them outside and kept them in groups on the other side of the plaza. Other Second Class officers surrounded the building to make sure none approached.

"No one here can disarm it, huh?" she said, hope failing be present in her voice.

"No. One of my guys identified that there's a enough C-4 in there to level this place, but that's it. They've got some complicated wires."

"Wouldn't some of them be dummy wires? There can't be that many," Keladry insisted vehemently. She remembered taking an advanced class on this years ago. Bombs, although very delicate, weren't as hard as they made it look in the movies.

Ulliver shook his head. "If there were any, we have no way of telling them apart."

The two stood in silence, while members of the SWAT team and other officers were running frantically around them. A barricade of sorts was set up around the bomb still on the counter. It seemed irrational to have a barricade, seeing as that when the bomb finally went off, it wouldn't contain the explosion.

In the midst of all the noise and shouting, Keladry threw her consciousness into this deep protective place inside of herself. Nothing could hurt her there. The world stood still. She could rest in a blissful cocoon of warmth and happiness.

Let the others handle it. They're trained for it. They can look after themselves.

No.

I can't do that. I am an officer of duty. I... I...

I don't know what else to do. Everything is out of my control! I want control! I want to take things into my own hands and fix them like a clockmaker fixes his clocks. So careful, so precise. There is no clock he can't fix.

Clock. Time. The clock is ticking.

Damn it. It'd be nice if the clockmaker could break his clock so the ticking would stop.

Her eyes opened, a realization dawning upon her.

"The Detective who brought in the donuts! Does anyone know his name?" If she apprehended the guy and brought him into the bank, he would have to disarm it or else be killed as well! She grabbed Ulliver by his collar and jerked him up close so that she stared right into his eyes like a crazed maniac.

"We had assumed he was just another guy from the Feds. He certainly knew how to act." He tugged himself free and eyed her suspiciously. "You got a plan brewing up there, Officer?"

"Yeah, Major. I do." Keladry felt a bit of the weight on her shoulder lifted temporarily. There was hope. If she knew one thing with her experiences with bombers, terrorists, or creepy criminals in general was that if they planned a really intricate attack or even showed their face once... they would stick around to see the fireworks. The 'Detective' had been seen by plenty of people. There was no doubt in her mind that he was around there somewhere. If only she could stick a name to the face and ID him. She didn't know where to start looking.

But there was hope.

"Okay. How many more minutes until the bomb squad get here?"

"They're almost here. But even then... we're not sure if they'll have enough time to disarm it or get it out of the city." He paused. "Nope. We can't get it out of the city fast enough. Maybe if we had a helicopter and flew it out, but I doubt we can get one in time. The thing's down to twenty minutes. Should we start clearing out more of the plaza? I mean, there's only enough to take out the building, but you think that the smoke and debris won't spread?"

She started walking toward the rotating doors in front. "I don't know. I honestly don't. I'm not a demolition expert." She paused and glanced at him. "You might want to contact Yukimi noh Daoimaru. She's a Rider... and definitely into this kind of stuff."

Without hearing what else Ulliver Linden had to say, she pushed her way through the rotating doors and jogged down the steps of Mithran United. The eerie lion statue stared at her as she made her way past it. Of course, statues didn't stare at particular people. She was just merely adding onto the tension she'd already built up.

"Cleon, do you remember what that Detective who brought in the donuts earlier looked like?"

He was maintaining order and calling out commands outside at the time. He stopped, handed over command to a dark skinned officer standing next to him and approached her so they could talk more privately. "Um, yeah. He had a hat like Fal's. It was brown though, not black. That whole dent through the middle of it like someone dropped a book on it. I would never forget one of those hats. You don't see them that much anymore."

"Yeah, enough about the hat. What about his face? Any distinctive features?"

He looked upwards, as if he could imagine a picture of the man in the bright blue sky. "The black hair was turning gray at the sideburns. Thin narrow nose, dark beady eyes set close together, thin eyebrows. He had pale skin, kind of clammy looking. Tan trench coat over a blue-against-white pinstriped shirt, burgundy tie, and black trousers."

She was impressed at how many details he was capable of memorizing from a couple of glances. But then again, his keen eyesight and observance skills were what made him an excellent marksman. He seemed pleased with himself as well, smiling weakly. "Is he a suspect?"

"Yeah. He is. Page me if you see him. I'm going to search the crowd."

They stopped and directed their gazes to the street, where black vans marked with the DJPF symbol pulled up. The bomb squad jumped out of the opened doors and sprinted up the steps, body armor, shields, and all. They lugged their equipment with them even at the high pace. Keladry and Cleon stepped to the side so they were out of the way. Symric was at the doors of the bank. He and another man were taking down the rotating door so quick entry and exit could be accessed. If need be, they might have to run out of there before the bank collapsed around their heads.

Keladry turned around, trying to find a clue. The plaza was shaped in a rectangle and on a hill of sorts. The top of the hill was leveled out, and there were three exits-- stone steps-- leading to the streets below. There was the bank. An insurance company lived next door. Next to that, a large post office. The plaza was for the most part, absent except for the merchant's and vendor's stands scattered outside a mini-mall opposite from the post office.

There were more exits from the high-rise plaza to the street from there. And a few more sparkling fountains. She wondered why the people of the plaza were so fond of them. One was enough.

"No."

She blinked. Perhaps she wasn't seeing that. The two other fountains in the plaza faced toward the street. The eagle faced the street, as did the horse and its rider. She spun on her heel and ran toward the lion fountain.

"Kel! What are you doing?" Cleon shouted.

"Hold on!" she yelled right back. She leapt onto the edge of the fountain. There was no way she could jump from the edge to the center without landing in the water. She glanced down at her field uniform. Ah well. She was in the field after all. She hopped into the knee-deep water and began dragging her legs toward the lion statue.

Cleon and two other officers abandoned their post to join her, or at least stand on the edge.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Get back here!"

"You're crazy!"

She gritted her teeth. "No, I'm not!" She reached the center and used the lion's paw as a handhold to haul herself up. She climbed over the waterspout, trying not to get hit by the spray of water. Now Keladry was standing in front of the lion. She reached up into the mouth, feeling the detailed stone teeth biting through her Hyperion Bands.

Cleon stared with half-lidded, hopeless eyes. "She has lost her mind. No doubt about it."

Keladry felt around until her hand came in contact with a compact little cylinder. She closed her fingers about it and yanked her hand out of the lion's mouth to inspect. A wire attached to one end of the cylinder trailed behind from the statue mouth. The black cylinder about the size of a stun gun had a lens opposite the side with the wire. She glanced behind her at the bank.

"He's been watching the whole time."

She turned around carefully, so as not to slip and showed the hidden camera to the others.

"Well, fuck me. We're screwed, aren't we?" Cleon groaned.

She wrinkled her nose at his choice of words. "Yeah. He wouldn't be here somewhere in the crowd if he already had a front seat view because of this camera."

At the end of her sentence, Wolset came running out the door with Symric at his heels. The younger arrived first. "A helicopter was sent ten minutes ago! They'll be here any minute to take it east out of the city and toward the fields."

"Doesn't that hurt the ecosystem out there?" Keladry frowned. "You know, whatever animals out there in the fields?"

"It's likely to kill less over there than it is here!" Symric snapped. "Aren't many animals out in the fields anyway! It's their hibernation time, in the woods!"

Keladry waded into the water again and got out of the fountain. She brought the camera with her, pulling the wire after her and wrapping it around the cylinder. She tossed it to Symric, who was distrustful.

"It's not another bomb, Sym. It's just a camera," Wolset spoke. "We have only so many pieces of evidence."

A loud humming sound was heard overhead. The wind started to pick up. Actually, Kel witnessed, the helicopter was preparing to touch down in a clear spot in the plaza. Some of the merchants' stands on the opposite side of the plaza blew over. Men and women cursed as they tried to hold onto their things without getting blown around themselves.

Six men in a two-line formation walked out of the bank, surrounding the bomb that they carried on a stretcher of sorts with the utmost care. Keladry looked at her pager for the time. A few more minutes. How long would the helicopter take getting out of the city? Would the pilot be hurt?

The helicopter touched down, a blue and white hulk with sharp blades spinning overhead. The six members of the bomb squad involuntarily ducked their heads although the helicopter blades were a few feet above still. Three of the men got into the helicopter along with the bomb, which was still in its donut box. Keladry shivered, not only because of the air against her wet legs, but in genuine apprehension for the safety of those officers flying out.

Within a matter of seconds, the helicopter lifted off and flew at top speed east. Every man, woman, and child watched it become a dot in the sky. It eventually disappeared into the horizon. There was nothing left but to wait for the report in a few minutes time.

"Hey," she tapped Wolset and Symric on the shoulders. "Find out who funded the money to the bank for the lion fountain and which contractors built it. This thing has been planned long ahead."

"It's only been here for a few years," Symric answered. "I suppose that it could have been planned a year ago. I wonder why they were biding their time?"

Keladry rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Who knows? Look, I'm going to get a bite to eat. I'll be back in five minutes for whatever reports we have to make to Flyn." She frowned. "Where is he, anyway?"

"One of the other banks, I believe."

"Oh. Okay. I'll be right back."

Trying to shake off her tension, Keladry started humming to herself. She sauntered down the steps toward the streets below and crossed. The traffic had been reduced to nearly none since most of the civilians had the brains to get their cars away from any potential flying debris. Crowds of shoppers still lined the streets, going into one shop or cafe, then coming out another.

A few strangers nodded kindly to her, noting her disheveled appearance.

"Ma'am?" a boy tugged on her sleeve. He was about thirteen, with a backward baseball cap on his head, a large T-shirt, and a pair of baggy cargo shorts. "The bank's not blowing up, is it?"

She blinked. Her face flushed when she realized other people around her were also waiting for the answer to the question. "No. It's not. We're all fine."

The boy grinned and ran away. She let out a deep breath and forced herself to keep walking. Little things like hardly ever happened to her. Those sorts of things always happened to Owen or Neal, never her. But the expression on the boy's voice made her smile. Things were alright. Mostly.

"Most of the money stolen still hasn't been recovered. The suspects are still on the loose, including the one whom just tried to blow up Mithran United." She groaned. "This is just not my day."

She stopped in her tracks and looked to her right. The café she was standing in front of appeared halfway decent. She liked pasta and pizza, and she didn't have to change out of her uniform to sit down on the sidewalk and eat.

"THIEF!" a woman screamed. A man ran through the crowd on the sidewalk, his haggard face and greedy expression making him look like the stereotypical TV purse-snatcher. Keladry bolted up from the table she was sitting at and shoved her way through the crowd.

I'm never going to get a rest! she thought as she gradually caught up with the man. He looked over his shoulder and spotted her. The thief took a sharp turn into an alley, hoping to jump the metal fence and lose her.

She nearly collided with an elderly couple trying to close the gap between him and her.

"DJPF! Stop! Desist! I will shoot should you not do this!" Keladry shouted, irritation and annoyance obvious in her tone.

The man reached the fence, He had trouble holding onto the purse and climbing. He finally held the small brown leather purse in between his teeth and began his climb.

Keladry drew her gun and fired a shot not too far above his head.

"GAH!"

She had scared him. His hands lost their hold on the fence and he fell back onto the alley ground. Keladry reached him just as he got up. He drew a switchblade knife that gleamed even in shade.

The experienced female officer darted forward and feigned a punch to the right, then spun around and did a roundhouse kick to the left. Her foot knocked the knife out of his hand. She speedily pounced on him, punching him in the stomach and delivering a swift jab to his face.

The man blindly punched back, striking out with inexperience. She evaded his sloppy attacks. Her following front kick knocked him onto his back. Before he could get back up, she pinned him with her legs and took the opportunity to punch him hard in the jaw once more.

Something inside her shattered. She began punching him over and over, never mind the blood on her gloves and the sound of pain escaping his split lips.

"You.... son of... a bitch!" she punctuated each group of words with a strike. "I am not.. a fucking First Class officer... for nothing! I am..." Her voice cracked and she tried to hold in the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "NOT a person... who fails! I always... get my man... even if it means I have to hunt... you down... like a dog!"

She pulled back, out of breath and on the verge of sobbing. She stoically stood up, staring blankly at the man's blood covered face. Her hands shook. She quickly removed her gloves and put them in a pouch at her waist.

Is he dead? she thought wildly. Did I kill him in my state of temporary insanity? She watched his chest slowly rise and fall. He's unconscious. By Glory, I'm glad.

"Lost it there, didn't you?"

She looked up, shocked to see Joren on the other side of the man's prone form. He stared at her with his icy blue eyes. His unfeeling expression haunted her. What was he doing her? Couldn't he see that she was working?

If she could call beating a man senseless work...

"No! I... I..." she sought out words that wouldn't come.

He snorted. "You're frustrated with yourself over the fact that all the suspects aren't tried and incarcerated and the money's still gone."

"That's not true! We saved the people in the plaza from getting hurt! We saved the bank from being blow up to Kingdom come!" she cried, clenching her hands into fists. "I'm fine!"

Joren nodded his head, considering her explanation. "Perhaps. You're the one lying to yourself. By imagining that I'm here talking to you, right now, you're trying to justify your reasons when you really can't. You're trying to make me into the asshole again to make you feel better."

He's right.

She knelt down to lift the man up. She wouldn't bother with handcuffs. He would be out for a while. Keladry looked up again. Joren was gone. It had been her imagination after all. What a sick and twisted conscience she had to turn itself into him.

"I'll figure it out some day," she muttered and dragged the man out of the alleyway with her. She stopped at the mouth of the alley and paged for some assistance in transporting him. A woman in her thirties with short brown hair ran up, breathing hard.

"My purse!" She screamed when she saw the thief's bloody face. "Is he dead?"

"No," Keladry answered, her voice sounding dull. She winced when she heard it herself. "Here's your purse." She handed it to the woman, who thanked her profusely and ran away in her feminine suit and skirt.

And to think, all I wanted half an hour ago was my lunch break.

~~~

That evening, Keladry sat on the rail of the elevated walkway. She could have easily jumped onto a branch from where she was sitting, but decided not to do so. The last thing she needed was for someone (most of all, Cleon or Neal) to see and start calling her Squirrel Girl. She was unchanged from her field uniform, while the rest of the residents of the DJPF owned apartment complex had changed out. They were now mostly sleeping-- those who were not doing late-night research and investigation for Flyn or Buri.

Kel had even gotten around to eating, though everything tasted sour or bitter in her mouth after the incident in the alley. She'd barely held down the dinner she ate, and ended up washing it down with as much water as possible. Drinking water stopped her notions to vomit for some reason.

She ran a hand through her hair and scratched her scalp. Her gloves were in her sink, soaking in a cleaner and disinfectant to get the blood out. The blue diamonds on the knuckles would never be as bright anymore, but that was alright.

All of a sudden, hands pushed her forward. Keladry gasped she felt herself fall forward, arms flailing. The same hands that had pushed her grabbed her waist and held on, dragging her back onto the rail. Keladry, heart beating wildly, gripped the rail with both hands and turned around carefully to see to whom the hands at her waist belonged to.

"Stone?"

"Mindelan," he nodded to her. He let go and leaned on the rail beside her. "You see now how easily anyone could have pushed you? So stupid."

She returned her gaze to the glowing lights of Tusaine in the magnificent panoramic view their high ground apartments gave them. She emitted a sigh.

"Maybe I wanted to be pushed."

He narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what was wrong with her. "If that were so, you wouldn't have reacted the way you did. You would have let yourself drop through the branches below like a rock."

"Or a stone," she added, liking the significance of the pun. "Too bad this isn't the President's place and there aren't any Stormwings to fall on."

He glared at her. A long pause followed, until he finally spoke again. "Why are you out here anyway?"

"Why not? The cold doesn't bother me so much anymore," she said in an emotionless monotone that mimicked his voice. Joren considered something for a moment and then took off his jacket. He draped it over her shoulders, leaving him in his thin black T-shirt again.

She broke her concentration on the lively sight of the city to regard him with suspicion. He folded his arms across his chest and picked up staring out at the city where she had left off. Kel didn't bother asking why he'd done it. He'd probably answer that if she caught a cold, she'd be out of commission for a bit and that wouldn't be good for the rest of her partners. Always thinking about himself.

"I tried finding out who funded the making of the lion fountain outside the bank. No such luck yet. I believe there's a connection, but Buri keeps saying that she'll have her people take care of it and I should just relax." Keladry gnawed on her lower lip.

"It's not your jurisdiction. You should relax."

She sighed. "I can't just turn my back on it! It's just... I..." She scowled midway. "Not that I would expect you to understand or even care about what I'm going through."

"You're right, I wouldn't care. But I would definitely understand. I'm not inexperienced with stuff like that, Mindelan. You of all people should know by now."

"I know."

They remained on the walkway for a few more minutes. The lights of the city flickered and shined with their own magnificence. All of it could be wiped out, by a billion of bombs, by random attacks from the same men who'd robbed the banks. The mere thought chilled Keladry to the bone when the harsh wind could not. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

"I'm going out. If Qasim comes looking, tell him so, okay?" Joren said. He took back his jacket from her and started toward the nearest elevator. Keladry watched him until he reached the glass sliding door leading inside.

"Hey."

He shifted on his back heel to turn. "What now?"

Were there words for this kind of thing? She stumbled for the right sentences to say, but they all sounded awkward no matter how she phrased them. "Th-thanks for understanding... but not caring. Sympathy--"

"Sympathy wouldn't help much at this point," he finished for her. "Yeah. I know. That's why I never have any."

She nodded. "But the empathy is nice."

Joren snorted as the door slid open. "It's a curse."

After he'd left, Keladry started wondering if that whole scene meant that the avoiding each other phase of their strange cycle was over. She hadn't had to yell at him for being the asshole he normally was just yet, so the next phase hadn't occurred.

"The in-between isn't so bad," she whispered.

~~~

Elsewhere.

Joren called out into the dark and abandoned subway station, hearing his voice echo off the walls. He paced in a line, back and forth. His booted heels were the only sound in the whole place, louder than his breathing-- for that he was glad. The single light he'd brought down with him was enough to illuminate half the platform, but it cast eerie shadows everywhere. Joren stopped pacing and listened to the sound of his own breathing. It helped to calm his mind and clear it.

"Just come out already. I know you're here, Enishi."

A pause. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, Joren?"

The blonde officer turned around to face the silver-haired mystery. "Yes. It has."

"I was wondering how long it was going to take you to seek me out. Though I've changed locations, I always come back here now and then to see if you have come back."

Joren sighed. "Look, let's not talk about that right now. I have something else I want to know."

"Oh? Ask away." His aquamarine eyes glowed like fireflies in the shadowed part of the subway platform. The graffiti on the supports behind Enishi were of bright crimson flames, complementing the shine of the strange eyes. On another day, Joren might have commented that he looked like a devil, but then he stopped. Devil eyes would be red.

Red for rage, for anger... for evil. Joren's hand absently went up to stroke the red lettering on the collar of his black jacket.

Joren looked down at the ground, wondering for a brief second whether the stain next to his shoes was motor oil or blood. "You donated that fountain outside the bank, didn't you?"

Enishi laughed long and hard, a sort of chilling laughter that froze you to the spot. When his merriment subsided, he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye and answered. "Is that all? Come now, Joren, you know I donated that thing years ago."

"The camera was found today."

"I'm quite aware."

Joren glared at him as contemptuous as he dared to be. "Did you organize all those robberies and send the bomb?"

A shadow passed over the other man's voice, though he was now standing with Joren in the light of the lantern hung above.

"No."

"No?"

"A large group of young fools have moved onto my turf, trying to oust me and outdo me. I had my camera set up, yes, to watch over the bank-- my investment, if you don't recall-- like I always have for years. This new group has so sloppily left their clues and celebrates now as we speak. Such children."

Joren frowned. "This isn't like you. You have the means to wipe them out. Why don't you?"

"Tsk, tsk. You don't know me that well anymore, do you?" He chuckled in his deep rich voice. "Yes, I can easily dispose of them. Why not, then? Number one, the mass murders would alert Buriram Tourakom, your former boss. I hate her snooping around in my affairs. It would take half a year to get the case filed in some never-accessed folder. Number two, I know you wouldn't approve. And now that you're back, I fully intend to be a more honest man."

"You expect me to believe that?" Joren wasn't sure whether or not to be sarcastic, or sincere in his response, but he didn't trust him. Not one bit.

"No. Of course not! I'm not going to halt my operations because the prodigal one has returned home to the farm!" He laughed and started walking back into the inky darkness from which he'd arrived. "Know this, Joren. I will be there when you're ready." He paused and threw a glance over his shoulder. "And do keep the girl. Kel, was it? She's a nice dish if I ever saw one. Independent and deadly, kind and sympathetic. A bit of a perfectionist though. I can definitely see you curing her of that!"

Joren's eyes widened. "Her? No, I don't think so. Mindelan's a pain in the ass."

"You loaned her your jacket, didn't you? You never did that before."

"I was distracted at the time."

Enishi disappeared from view. "Whatever you say....Jackal."

~~

Author's Notes:

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR! (I know, I know. I'm a bit late.)

Anyway, my vacation has been so busy. I'm surprised this took as long as it did. I was supposed to have fit in TWO episodes this vacation. Unfortunately, homework calls. Boys and girls, this is what you get when you procrastinate!

I hope you don't mind the depressing scenes in here. I've had a few sobering experiences this vacation, and thus, was put in the mood. I'm not about to make Wolset and Symric regular appearances. They were just kind of... there because I needed more variety in Flyn's officers. Maybe I'll change my mind later on. And as for Ulliver? I don't know. There's not much about him in the books. He's the commander of the Second Company of the King's Own. And that's all I knew. The Ulliver I recreated was decent enough, I hope.

Joren and Kel. Kel and Joren. Enishi spots Kel. Joren talks to Enishi. What in the world is going on here? Should I tell you? Nah. Not yet. I hope those of you whom are restless for some Joren and Kel action were pleased. For the time being, anyway. You know me. I like to develop their relationship. If you can actually call it a relationship. *rolls eyes*

Poor Neal! He's still hurting, the poor boy. Roald and Lalasa are going through tough times... and I managed to barely throw in everyone's favorite little gambler, Faleron, in this episode. This is what you get when you've been deprived of sleep and your daily amount of coffee, folks. The next episode is already planned out. Expect for me to neglect the same group of people again. Sorry, but it's only one episode. You'll live.

Until next time, remember to tell me what you think via reviews!

-Sulia Serafine

email: Silverwlng@aol.com

(you can also talk with Legato Bluesummers, a partner of sorts at Pickadilly101@aol.com. Be careful. He bites.)