As of this posting, I have exactly 100 days left in Japan…I'm so excited that I could do cartwheels around the office!

chyp: With a comment like that, you just earned yourself a place in my next story!

Caralynne: Thanx for reviewing! It gives me that much more inspiration to keep on going!


"I got it," Matthew said to himself quietly as he rested in his bed. He looked as if something had just fallen on his head. The expression on his face carried a combination of surprise and confusion. He checked to see if Wesley was awake, but he was fast asleep. He quietly crept around the quarters to Joe's bed, lightly tapping him awake. "Joe? Wake up, Joe."

"Huh?" Joe mumbled as he turned in his sleep. "Don't leave me."

"Wake up," Matthew said, shaking him more vigorously. "It's me, Matt."

"Matt?" Joe asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you," Matthew said. "Meet me tomorrow right after breakfast. And don't tell my brother about anything. It's very important."

"You got it," Joe said. They both turned to look at Wesley. He sported a very noticeable frown on his sleeping face, no doubt caused by Matthew's new outlook on life. Matthew sighed and returned to his bed, hoping that whatever idea he had would be of some use.

He made his way over to another end of the expansive quarters. He found Derrick and Charity, laying silently in their adjacent beds, with George soundly asleep in the bed next to Charity's. Making sure that both parents were up, he crawled in between their beds and sat on the floor.

"Hi," he said. They responded only by giving him a strange stare. "I know you don't know me, but my name is Matt and I was sent here to help you."

"How?" Derrick asked. "How are you supposed to help us when you can't even help your own self?"

"Honey," Charity began, "calm down. He's not responsible."

"I," Matthew continued, looking more towards Charity's direction now, "I spoke to your mother, Marcia, before I was brought here. She told me all about you and your children. I promised her that I'd bring you back. I'm not going back on that promise. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that."

"You know my mother?" Charity asked, her eyes briefly lighting up with excitement. "Wh-Who exactly are you? Why do you care about us?"

"It's a long story," Matthew said, "but you'll just have to trust me."

"We used to trust a lot of people," Derrick cut in. "Look at where that got us. We're slaves in this…place…and our little girl is dead. What do we have to live for now? What hope do we have?"

"Excuse him," Charity said, taking Derrick's arm.

"I understand," Matthew said, looking them both deeply in the eyes. "And I'm really very sorry about Tina. I know how hard it is to lose someone you love. The hurt, the pain, the feeling of loneliness and despair, it never truly goes away. But you have to be strong for George. It's one thing to be angry over it, but you can't let it consume you, otherwise you won't be able to help George. He's gonna do a lot of good in his life, but only if you're there to help him through. Don't let him down."

"Thank you," Charity said, smiling faintly at Matthew's words.

"What are you, a grief counselor or something?" Derrick asked sourly.

"No," Matthew said. "I'm just someone who cares. I'll leave you two alone now. Nice to have met you. Don't forget what I said."


The next morning went just like any other. Loud sirens startled most of the captive witches awake, while demons from the Order prodded the rest of them until they were all alert. The demons herded their prisoners to a large room resembling a cafeteria, but a lot more depressing. All the walls, all the chairs, everything had a dullish gray hue to it. All the light from outside stayed outside on account of the lack of windows. Everyone sat quietly at their table where a grayish sludge appeared from out of nowhere. It had a distinct taste, but no one could quite put a finger on it. The sludge's taste seemed to be a combination of many things, most notably leather and onions. It's resilient chunky consistency only brought more possibilities of what exactly constituted the mysterious food, if it could even be called that.

At the end of breakfast, the witches returned to their quarters for a short while before the usual work began. During that short recess, Matthew waited patiently for Joe to arrive. He finally came into the quarters with the last group of stragglers, of which Wesley was one. He saw Matthew and the two of them retreated to a small corner of the room, where Wesley could not find them.

"Sorry it took so long," Joe said. "Your brother's really pissed off at you. What did you do to him?"

"Just listen," Matthew said. "There's not much time to do this. I had an idea last night about how to get out of here. I need your help. Are you a good actor?"

"Hey," Joe said, "if it involves getting us out of here, I'm better than Brad Pitt."

"Raise your standards," Matthew said. "Here's the deal. After the morning work break, I want you to wait for a bit before returning for the afternoon shift. Try to be one of the last ones out of here. It's a bit tricky and might not work, but it's all I've got."

"Okay," Joe said. "What about Wesley?"

"You can't tell him anything," Matthew said. "I hate to do this to him, but I need to work alone on this one. Now, tell me everything you know about these collars. Don't leave out any details. Even the smallest things could help me out here."

Joe spent the next several minutes quickly explaining the ins and outs of the thick gray magical collars that were wrapped around their necks. Matthew listened very carefully, smiling at some parts but frowning at others. He had a hunch, and if it worked, then he might possibly have a way of escaping the mines. Joe kept talking, knowing that their time was limited. At any minute, the demons would storm into the quarters and herd the witches to the mines, gladly using any means of force.

From what Joe told him, Matthew learned that the collars' main function was to suppress the magical abilities of the people who wore it. There were three ways to activate the collar: by a remote control that each demon possessed, by the wearers using their powers, or by coming into contact with someone whose own collar had been activated. Into each collar was engraved a strange symbol, an upside-down triangle inscribed inside a larger right-side up triangle, which symbolized the Order of Invision. Although no one knew exactly how the collars worked, Joe hypothesized that through Invision's power to deflect magic, the collars possessed a similar ability.