AzulaTano: I don't think anything can kill Perry. Ever. :P As for Bree and Chase...

Chase?

"Zara doesn't own Lab Rats or anything you recognize. If you don't recognize it, it's probably hers."


"I am no bird, and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will."

Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre


"Better to die fighting for freedom than be a prisoner all the days of your life."

Bob Marley


Bree

"And see this one?" Chase eagerly pointed at a small gem in a coronet he was polishing. "It's a black opal. It's extremely rare! It's almost exclusively found in the Lightning Ridge mine in New South Wales. It's also the national gemstone of Australia!"

Bree nodded, trying not to show just how bored she was. Why he was excited about a black rock with rainbow flecks was beyond her. Sure, it was pretty. She could do without the lesson, though. If anything, it made polishing things harder than it should've been. Besides, if it was just essence like everything else in the forsaken Otherworld, then she could make enough to make them worthless with just a thought.

As if reading her mind, Chasetapped it, his eyes shining. "More importantly, it's real. It's not made of essence. It's from Earth. One of these would cost several thousand dollars, and I'm handling it for free! I never thought I'd get to see one of these, let alone get to examine it!" With that, his eye started glowing as he ran his bionic scanner over the stone.

It's not yours, Bree thought, but she didn't say it. Instead, she just sighed and continued to clean the cup she'd picked up. She glared at Apollyon, who had curled up in a large lava pool to watch everyone. If it wasn't for him, she and Chase could be home already.

However they could get home from here, that was.

Bree sighed, wanting to throw the cup at the dragon. Even if Apollyon hadn't interfered with Chase's free will, they still had no way of knowing how to get home. They'd still be stuck here.

Possibly forever.

You missed a spot.

Bree glared at Apollyon. One of the heads was actually winking at her, almost laughing. Maybe he had control of her, too, since he was obviously in her head. He hadn't actually influenced her actions, though. Maybe he was just waiting for the right time to use it.

Or maybe she wouldn't know she was being controlled.

Bree let out a frustrated sigh. It was the Triton App all over again, except with a dragon. Beautiful.

Bree carelessly tossed the polished cup onto the growing pile of shined artifacts and grabbed a handle, tugging a half-buried treasure from the pile. When it wouldn't budge, Bree ground her teeth and tugged sharply. There was no way some stupid little trinket was going to get the best of her!

When it slid free from the pile, the unexpected weight caused Bree to stumble and fall, dropping the object with a loud clang. Apollyon laughed - at least, a few of his heads did - and Bree scowled, getting up quickly and trying to hide her embarrassment.

"Careful with that," one of the heads that wasn't laughing growled. "That sword is worth more than you and your brother combined!"

Sword? Bree thought, carefully picking up the heavy blade. It seemed to fit her hand perfectly, like the weapon had been forged for her. That was impossible, though. The sword was doubtlessly hundreds of years old. Besides, she could barely lift the long blade off the ground, much less actually swing it.

Who knew swords were so heavy?

After a second of trying to move it without dragging the tip on the ground, Bree sighed. "Hellcat? Can you help me move this thing?"

Chase looked up from the ancient book he was inspecting only to cringe. "Sure, but...Hold on a second." He wrapped his polishing clothes thickly around his hands before grabbing the hilt, his hands resting over Bree's own.

Together, they both carried the sword until it was back at the pile, Chase backing way away from it when the task was done. Bree frowned. It wasn't silver. She might not be the best at metals, but she could tell that much. So what was Chase's problem?

"Who cares?" Apollyon growled, rolling her eyes. "Just polish it and move on."

Bree rolled her eyes, but polished the blade carefully.

It really was a beautiful sword...


"War is a soul-shattering experience for the innocent."

Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem


"No one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark."

Warsan Shire, Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth


Leo

When Mr. Davenport had asked that they be dropped off wherever the refugees from Mission Creek were being housed, Leo hadn't expected this.

Judging by the look on Mr. Davenport's face, neither had he.

Crowded together in the Los Angeles community center, hundreds of people were sitting on cots or walking around aimlessly, depressed hopelessness in their eyes. People they had known before, now homeless. A few classmates without parents. Sometimes, parents without kids. Some were lucky enough to know where their loved one was, if hospitalized could be considered lucky.

Others either planned funerals or clung to the hope that their missing loved one would be found.

It was here that Leo discovered that Janelle and her father had been trapped inside when her burning home collapsed. Her mother wasn't handling it well at all. Practically no one could get her to move off her cot.

It was here that it was discovered that a few classmates - Trent included - had lost one or both of their parents. They were terrified. Where they might have resented their parents telling them what to do in the past, they visibly longed for that direction now.

"Why did we come here?" Douglas whined, breaking into Leo's stunned thoughts. "They look like every other group of refugees I've ever seen. Let's go somewhere more cheerful."

"Shut up, Douglas," Mr. Davenport muttered, but it was clear that he wasn't focusing on his brother's complaining. Instead, his eyes were wandering over the crowd, filled with emotions ranging from sorrow to disbelief.

Douglas rolled his eyes. "Okay. You can admire the view. I'll be outside if you need me." With that, Douglas brushed past Adam and marched away.

Adam pulled a face. "It is really depressing here, Mr. Davenport." From inside his pocket, Yahn squeaked his agreement, nodding his little mouse head.

"It's not too bad," Tasha tried.

"What's the good part?" Ysthry asked, poking her head out of Leo's pocket. Why they both chose mouse, he'd never know.

"Well, it has a roof..." Tasha tried again, but she ended up falling silent. There was no positive way to spin the place. Sure, it was temporary shelter, but what happened when that ended? The people couldn't stay here forever.

Mr. Davenport's eyes landed on the table of volunteers, watching as they handed out meager rations to people. Suddenly, his temper visibly flared. "That's not going to be enough for everyone! Maybe a few crackers a piece?!"

Tasha rubbed his shoulders. "Don, there's nothing we can do. Relax."

Mr. Davenport only seemed more infuriated by that. "Nothing? We can do nothing? Tasha, honey, I love you, but it's like you just don't know me at all."

Leo wanted to scoff. "You can't just make more food appear."

Mr. Davenport, however, was already on his phone. "You watch me."


"Taking Mum's hand, I whispered, 'Are we really safe, here?'"

Alwyn Evans, Walk in My Shoes


"When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching - they are your family."

Jim Butcher


Douglas

Douglas glared at Donald, impatient. Why was he on the phone? Who could he possibly be calling? Unless he was making reservations at a five-star hotel, Douglas was about to break his phone.

The screams of children broke into Douglas' thoughts. He rolled his eyes. No matter where it was, refugee areas were all the same. Screaming children and upset adults. Douglas glared towards the screaming only to have a kid barrel into him. Douglas stumbled back, shocked. When he regained his footing, he glared down. "Watch it!"

The kid couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old. And, to Douglas' complete astonishment, hid behind him

Douglas wanted to send the kid packing. He had just yelled at the kid, but the kid was now using him as a shield? From what? And where was the fear that yelling usually invoked in the hearts of children? Did they fear nothing anymore? "What the hell?"

"They're trying to take my snack," the kid explained, pointing at a group of older children and holding up a small package of peanut butter crackers. The kids were watching him, obviously waiting for Douglas to leave so that they could strike.

Douglas scowled. "Then go eat them by your parents."

"I don't have parents," the kid mumbled, looking down. "The monsters ate them."

Douglas glared at the older kids again. He knew that look all too well. Don had given him the same one whenever he was about to give Douglas a beating from hell. He sighed, running his hand down his face. He was going soft. He had to be. "Fine. You can eat them here. I'll make sure they stay back."

The kid smiled slightly. "Thanks, mister." With that, he sat at Douglas' feet, pulling the package open.

Douglas felt himself smiling before he sat down beside the kid. "Don't call me 'mister.' It makes me feel old. Call me Douglas."

The kid giggled, obviously tickled at the idea of calling an adult by their first name. "Okay, Douglas. But only if you call me Trevor."

Douglas grinned. "Deal."