And chapter eight is here! *does a tap dance* XD Yeah! Woo! Alright! Okay, that's enough of that. :D Let's get on with this.

So, this is the chapter where Hogarth presents his project during the art contest. I really struggled with that part. I struggle with it because of self-doubt.

The part where he gives his speech. I did a lot of research and got inspiration from quotes. It sounded a lot better in my head, but I can't write it down on paper when I need to write this in order.

Well, look out for chapter nine.

Now that his friends knew, Hogarth needed to be sure they understand the severity of this situation. He had to make sure that they wouldn't tell anyone, not even their own parents. That was a tall order to ask, but his friends were willing to keep the stitchpunks' existence a secret. Not like Hogarth hadn't been doing that on his own already.

Explaining where the stitchpunks came from was longwinded chore. At least, it wasn't like when Hogarth introduced them to his parents. Duncan was the most openminded of the gang. After the Giant's sacrifice he was all in on the possibility of alternate worlds. How they came to this world was bit harder to explain. 9, 5 and the twins talked about the lake they were rafting in, and how the lake itself could've been an organic portal. From what they've seen in sci-fi movies and read in books, portals to other dimensions were done in a lab.

Hogarth didn't plan on building a portal, that required a lifetime of backbreaking skill and effort. If science wasn't involved in the stitchpunks' transportation to a different world, then perhaps magic was the other possibility. Or could it perhaps be a combination of both?

The stitchpunks enjoyed spending time with Hogarth's friends, who in turn thought they were the most exciting thing since the Giant. It was true that while the stitchpunks never met the Giant, they had a lot of respect for him. After that radio interview on Halloween, Hogarth was starting to think the Giant returning was becoming more possible.

Terrence, Duncan and Michael, after learning that Hogarth had been bringing the four stitchpunks to school under their noses, the three had asked him if they could borrow them for their different classes. Hogarth was hesitant at first, but when 9 convinced him, and the twins throwing in their own two cents, he permitted his friends to borrow them and take them to their classes. But he warned them to keep them out of sight. It was a whole new experience for the stitchpunks; sitting in on their classes and watching from their backpacks and hiding when the teachers looked in their direction. At the end of the day, Hogarth's friends always returned them on time. The bus ride to school and back was always filled with conversation and imagination.

Besides school and doing chores around the house, Hogarth would find a free minute to work on his project for the art contest. He was still serious about keeping it secret. He couldn't wait until the contest to show off his project. Contestants could exhibit as many entries as they wanted, thought the limit was always under twenty. Last year's first place winner was Cecilia Garvin. She won, and she got accepted into an art school in the next town. Hogarth wasn't sure if this is what he wanted. He liked writing, but of course that came as a struggle for him. His drawing skills had gotten better. He was great with a variety of tools, be it hammer and nail, a screwdriver, he was exceptional. His skills will take him anywhere.

It was two weeks before Thanksgiving. Tests were coming up, but Hogarth wasn't worried about that. He had always gotten good grades, but with his tutoring from 9 in math and history and literature from the twins, he was looking forward to tackling each test. 5 also pitched in when it came to stuff like biology and geometry.

Hogarth, as well as Dean and Annie, plus Terrence, Michael and Duncan went on a hike Saturday. Of course Hogarth brought the stitchpunks along. It was a refreshing respite from studying and tests. Hogarth made sure not to accidentally take his friends to the same spot he encountered the Ursa. They didn't need to know any of that.

A crisp breeze blew in from the north. Hogarth, with 9 perching on his shoulder, breathed in the smell of autumn, holding it in until he was sure it would remain forever. The other stitchpunks, 5, 3 and 4, were riding on Dean's shoulders. The twins were busily flicking lights out of their optics with 5, watching and trying to hold back laughter. Duncan who was walking along next to Dean, couldn't pull his eyes away, no matter how amusing it looked.

"What are they doing?," asked Dean neutrally.

"They're cataloging," responded 5, laughing.

"They did that to me," said Hogarth.

"And me," chirped 9.

"Do they do that to everyone they meet?," asked Duncan.

"It seems so," said Hogarth, observing the twins.

"Well, it's—YOWCH!" Dean winced when one of the twins, he didn't know which one, pulled on his hair in the back.

"Are you tender-headed?," queried Terence, craning his neck to catch a decent angle. Dean ignored the question and gingerly plucked one of the hooded twins and gave them back to Hogarth.

"Here," he said. Hogarth looked at the twin's number. It was 4. She flashed a beam of light and sat herself on his shoulder.

"So, the twins," said Michael, "don't talk at all?"

"Not with their mouths, no," replied Hogarth, looking over his shoulder. Michael shrugged and stole a glance at 3, who was still in Dean's possession.

"Hey," he cheeped, "mind if I take 3 off your back?"

"Be my guest," retorted Dean. Michael held out his hand, the hooded stitchpunk looked at it before leaping onto it. Michael moved his hand up to his head, where 3 carefully settled in his hair and looked at the scenery.

The trail to the lake was becoming closer. Above them, leaves fell from their branches, creating a falling kaleidoscope for the eyes to enjoy. Hogarth remembered when he rode on the Giant's shoulders through this very forest. Watching everything from the Giant's shoulder made him feel like he was invincible. It's amazing how perspectives change from where you're looking. Walking here on the ground surrounded by his friends and family, Hogarth knew he liked watching the change of season this way.

Hogarth could see the rocks up ahead. He felt his insides twist in excitement. He could hardly wait to get there. He knew they weren't going to dip in the water, but that memory from when the Giant flooded up the entire forest was still etched into his retinas.

Everyone gathered near the shore. Annie unfolded the picnic blanket and knelt down, opening the picnic basket.

"Ooh, sandwiches," said Duncan, sidling over to the picnic. He sat down crisscrossed and grabbed a foil-wrapped sandwich.

"I could go for some food," muttered Terrence.

Once everyone settled in, conversation took place. The stitchpunks, who had no need for eating or drinking, simply listened while observing the day. The twins catalogued the food that was brought, mostly the sandwiches, fruits, a bottle of ginger beer with about five small glasses.

"How much does a trip to Siberia cost?," asked Duncan.

"Probably more than your college savings," quipped Dean, after a sip of ginger beer. Duncan's expression looked like he was a thousand miles away.

"You just really want to see if the Giant is still there, don't you?," teased Annie. Duncan grinned sheepishly.

"But really," spoke Terrence, he turned to Hogarth, "do you think the Giant might come back to Rockwell?"

"It'd be great if he did," replied Hogarth automatically. He took a swig of ginger beer.

"But?" Terrence uttered, brow raised.

Hogarth looked it flummoxed. He darted his eyes in both directions before responding. "Buuuut...what?"

"You sound like you don't want the Giant to come back," retorted Terrence.

"I don't," muttered Hogarth, avoiding looking him in the eye. "What makes you say that?"

"Just a hunch."

Beside Terrence, Michael looked at Terrence, who was completely unaware of his gaze on him.

"Now Terrence—"

"No, no, Mom," interjected Hogarth, raising a hand. "It's just...I want him to come back, but I also don't want him to."

"Why?," uttered Michael. Beside him, near his legs, 5 looked back at Michael to Hogarth and back. Feeling the tension between them, he opted to get ready for when things escalate.

"I don't know why," said Hogarth defensively, he swigged the last of his ginger beer. He reached for the bottle and poured himself some more. "I've always kind of secretly wished he would come back." He took a sip. "And I don't know when he's coming back. I want him to come back, I don't; it's a whole tug-o-war thing. Uhh..."

3 and 4 flickered to each other quizzically.

"You okay?," said 9, patting Hogarth's knee.

"I don't know," muttered Hogarth, "I don't know."

"Let's change the subject," announced 5. This got Hogarth open to conversation; any subject was better than talking about the Giant.

"Hey, I've got a question," said Duncan through a mouthful of ham sandwich.

"Go ahead," encouraged 5.

"If you all were human," he began, "what do you think you'd look like?"

5 thought on it. It was something he'd never been asked before, but it was also an interesting question.

"I know how I'd look like if I was human," chirped 9, holding up his lightstaff.

"Let's hear it," quoth Terrence.

"I would look tall, with dark brown hair," said 9, "kind of wiry, and, uh... I've always wanted to have green eyes." He scratched his chin in thought. "And let's see...I want to have light skin, not pale white, but, with a slight olive tone."

Hogarth raised a brow. "Wow," he quipped, "sounds like you gave this a lot of thought."

"I've had plenty of time," retorted 9.

"Okay," Hogarth faced 5, "what about you?"

"Hmm." 5 furrowed his brow. "I would want to be his height,"—he pointed to Michael,—"and I'd want to have reddish, brownish hair, and slightly curly, or maybe straight. And, uh, I would want to have slight tan skin."

"Cool," commented Duncan.

"Now let's hear these two," peeped Michael, turning to look at the twins. The hooded twins flickered their optics rapidly, making it hard for everyone to understand them.

"Huh?," uttered Terrence, scrunching his eyebrows.

"Slow down," said Hogarth, "I want to see if I can understand them." He threw his hands in the air to gesture everyone to stay quiet.

He focused on their flickering lights, and tried to catch a pattern. He squinted his eyes a little, tilting his head to the right.

"What are they saying?," asked Duncan.

"3 says," said Hogarth, keeping his eyes on the twins, "that he and his sister would be blondes, with fair skin, and with either blue eyes or green eyes."

"That's cute," quipped Annie. The twins smiled.

"Okay, okay," said Dean, "I've got a question." He faced 9. "This one's for 9."

"Okay," said 9.

Dean chugged the last of his ginger beer and set his glass down.

"So you say that 4 and 7 are the only girls," said Dean.

"That's right," quipped 9.

"And you talk about 7 a lot," Dean's grin grew wider. "Is she...is she your...?" He raised his brows.

9 tilted his head, one stitched brow raised. He wasn't getting what he was trying to get across until he finally got what the question was and he laughed.

"Oh, oh, OH!" 9 shook his head, hand running through his head. Behind him, 3 and 4 giggled with their mouths hidden behind their hands. 5 on the other hand smirked and shook his head.

"So, is she?," said Dean.

9 chuckled. "No, no, we're just friends," he replied.

"Oh," said Terrence, "so is it her?" He pointed to 4, whose head shot up, and she turned to look at him, flickering something that he didn't understand. Terrence blanched.

"I didn't say it was a she," said 9.

Hogarth furrowed his brow. His eyes darted toward the ground until realization reached him and his eyes widened.

"Oh, so you're...Oh." Hogarth drank his ginger beer.

"What?" Duncan looked at anyone who might know what 9 was referring to.

"So who is he?," remarked Hogarth, grinning uncomfortably.

"You know who he is," retorted 9. He obviously wasn't going to tell Hogarth, so he was going to let him guess who it was.

Hogarth thought about it, and the look 9 was giving him. He looked away, anywhere to not look at 9. His eyes bulged again, either in realization or confusion.

"Ugh." Hogarth's face looked like he had just gotten out of the dentist's office. "Aren't you afraid he's going to squash you?"

Terrence dropped his half-eaten apple, brow arched.

"What, what is he...?" Annie couldn't help but chortle.

"Hogarth—" 9 was cut off.

"I mean, what if he falls on you and it's all over from there?"

3 and 4's silent giggles made the situation even more awkward. 5 in the meantime was having a good time watching this.

"Huh?" Michael uttered.

Hogarth grabbed the bottle of ginger beer, which was almost empty, and poured himself the last of it. He chugged it down, wanting to forget this moment.

Hogarth flopped down on the bed, exhaling a sigh.

"You sound beat," commented 5.

"Today was so exhausting," uttered Hogarth.

"At least you got to spend the day with your friends," said 9 in the hopes to lift the boy's spirits. Hogarth only glanced quickly at the zippered stitchpunk before looking away immediately. His gaze turned to the ceiling.

"That friend of yours... Terrence," uttered 5, "he sure is really nosy."

"And annoying," quoth Hogarth, not turning to look at the one-eyed stitchpunk.

9 gave him a quizzical look.

"He tries to act like my righthand," replied Hogarth, eyes gaping deep into the ceiling that he would burn holes in it. "Always tries to look like he's the Robin to my Batman, but I'm just plain sick of it."

5 offered a gentle smile. "Your other friends seem nice."

"Yeah, well..." Hogarth's stare hardened as he looked from the ceiling to the window. The sun had set a few hours ago.

3 and 4 flickered to 5, who in turn paid full attention to their statement.

"Hmm," he mused.

"What?," uttered Hogarth, shielding his face with his arm.

"The twins say," began 5 as to not aggravate Hogarth any further, "that they picked up hints of envy in Terrence."

This grabbed Hogarth's attention. He sat upright and turned to look at the four stitchpunks. This he had to hear.

"They're saying," said 5, "that they could tell that he was jealous of you."

Hogarth was caught in an onslaught of overwhelming emotions. He didn't know whether to feel flattered or offended. He didn't know if he knew this all along, or if this was the first time he was hearing it.

"Jealous, huh?," quoth Hogarth, raising a brow. He tried not to look like he was enjoying it, instead he tried to look as though he pitied Terrence, but in all masking emotions, he was caught between many mixed feelings.

"Hogarth?," queried 9 worriedly.

Hogarth hesitated. "I didn't mean to come off as enviable." He scrunch his eyebrows together, now appearing like a madman. "I never wanted to outshine anyone just because I knew the Giant personally. In fact, I always wanted to be overshadowed by other people." He let out a dry, humorless chortle.

"Why do you think Terrence would be jealous of you?," asked 9. It wasn't a routine question; he actually wanted to know.

"Maybe because he's got it rough at home," replied Hogarth. "His father... His father's not an 'evil' man, and he's not bad, per se. He is cold and blunt, never hugged Terrence." His face exuded sympathy. "His father's a strict, honest man. Strong as a mountain. Terrence's mom is submissive, never stands up for herself. Terrence never talks about it, but everyone in town knows who he is, and what he does."

The stitchpunks listened carefully. They didn't understand human conflict the way Hogarth did. From what Hogarth said, and the way he said it, made the four stitchpunks perceive what they thought was a personal family conflict.

"Well," spoke 5, "we're sorry for your friend, Hogarth." The boy nodded and shrugged. "But, and I don't want to pry, but I think whatever it is he's going through makes him want to be someone else."

Hogarth's brows raised.

"What 5's trying to say is," uttered 9, "that what Terrence is going through causes him to be cut off, distant." He thought about it some more until he came up with something comprehensible. "I think, and I'm pretty sure, that Terrence looks up to you."

"Looks up to me?" Hogarth was incredulous. "I always thought I was the one looking up to him."

"It sounds silly, I know," quipped 9. "But...that...'I don't care' sense is just an act. He uses that facade to hide his vulnerability. He doesn't want anyone to think he's helpless, so he puts on an icy exterior to show he's strong, that nothing bothers him."

"But things do bother him," said Hogarth. "But, I...I never wanted to be that person he wants to be."

"Let me ask you," stated 5, "why do you think you met the Giant, and not someone else?"

This made Hogarth's head swim with a whirlpool of possible answers. He couldn't grasp one answer.

"I guess it was mostly dumb luck," he replied uncertainly. "But if someone else had found him they would've imprisoned him. Paraded him like he was an exotic animal. But...I know for a fact that he would've turned on the ones who imprisoned him. Heck, he would've blown up all of Rockwell if things happened differently."

"I think we know why you were the one to find him," declared 5.

"Also," said 9, "what if you never went into the woods that night? What if your life wasn't how it is now?"

"There wouldn't be a statue of the Giant and me," responded Hogarth. "Rockwell wouldn't be as popular as it is today. I wouldn't be getting all this attention from colleges from other states." Then, sudden realization dawned on him. "And that's what Terrence envies."

4 flickered a kind gesture through her optics. Hogarth knew that she was telling her that it was okay.

"Terrence wishes that it had been him that found the Giant," said 9. "He wish he were the hero of the town. And maybe he thinks this reputation would make his father pay more attention to him."

"Having a father who doesn't see his child for who he is," uttered 5, "it's like having no father at all."

Hogarth frowned.

9 leaped off the nightstand and trotted up to Hogarth. He laid a hand on the boy's lap.

"It's okay," he said, smiling gently. This encouraged Hogarth to smile as well. He looked over to the picture of his father on the nightstand. He would always love his father even after everything's that's happened. He loved having Dean in the family. He and his mother were happy together, and he'd never trade anything for a different life. He liked living his life the way it was.

And there was nothing that he regret doing.

The day of the art contest came.

The museum was packed. Hogarth watched as the the judges, two men and three women, observed a blond girl's painting of a surreal landscape. It resembled a tree that had the face of a woman, and the tree woman's hair were the leaves.

Servers milled about offering wine glasses. Terrence tried to grab one before the man reiterated that he was too young to be drinking wine.

Hogarth couldn't believe it was finally the day. After spending every free minute working on his project, it was finally here. He stood next to a sculpture that was hidden beneath a clean white sheet. Hauling the sculpture onto the truck was a hassle as Hogarth wanted to keep the sculpture hidden under the sheet, where Dean had to tie a rope around it to keep the sheet from flying off.

Aside from the sculpture, Hogarth did have something else to present. A painting, which also was hidden under a much smaller sheet. Hogarth was serious in keeping it secret, even at the contest. When he kept his word, he kept it.

Annie and Dean stood, listening to the judge describe the girl's painting, pointing out the details and the technique. The rest of the judges also seemed to agree.

A violinist played in a farther part of the museum, filling the hall with classical compositions.

Annie opened her purse, peeking in to see the four stowaways.

"When is it Hogarth's turn?," asked 9 impatiently. He blinked up at the woman, starkly serious.

"Be patient, 9," she whispered gently. She stole a glance to the other guests who were present, and noted that no one was paying attention to her. "I'll open my purse again when the judges come over." She closed her purse again. "They're getting antsy," she said to Dean. Dean raised a brow.

There was a round of applause for the blond and her painting. Next, the judge and his entourage moved over to Hogarth's space, ready to observe his project.

"Next," said the judge in the black suit, the head of the team, "we have Hogarth Hughes."

Hogarth shyly smiled and waved. Even after everything, he was still anxious in the limelight.

"So, Hogarth," said the head judge, "I hear this is your first time in this contest."

"Yes, sir," replied Hogarth.

"And for your entry for the Rockwell Young Artists Contest," said the judge, his gray mustache obscuring his mouth when he spoke, "is...?" He stopped and this was the part where Hogarth announced his presentation, which he didn't hesitate to do.

Hogarth grabbed at the sheet. "I present to you," he said, he pulled off the sheet, unveiling, "my entry for this contest: Techno Organics."

As soon as the sheet was pulled off, the crowd went silent. A few mouths were gaping opened. A series of murmurs travelled through the air.

Hogarth's statue was compiled out of an old model mannequin. The left eye was still on the mannequin's face, except for the right which was cracked, and so Hogarth tied an eyepiece on that spot. The right arm wasn't a regular mannequin's arm but knight armor; the pieces Hogarth didn't use for his costume. On the bottom, at the mannequin's feet were a cluster of silk flowers and fake grass. Finally, in the mannequin's left hand was a small being. It was a small cloth sack doll.

"Interesting," said one of the female judges, eyes darting from the statue's robotic eye to the small doll in its hand. "Care to tell us how you compiled this creation?"

"Absolutely," replied Hogarth. He stepped over to the statue's left side. "I got the inspiration from a dream I had..."

"Hmm?" Dean looked at Annie, arching a brow.

"He's trying to protect the stitchpunks' existence," explained Annie, whose purse was half-open. Since everyone was paying attention to her son's statue, this gave way for the stitchpunks to observe while remaining overlooked.

"...and this was part of a Halloween costume I made myself," said Hogarth, pointing to the armor. "Over there on the bottom, are silk flowers I found in the junkyard.

"And what of the little doll?," asked a brown-haired judge, who seemed to be the youngest of them, second to the redheaded judge in the gold evening gown.

"Ah, well," uttered Hogarth, "you see, I did say it was inspired by a dream, but I was also inspired by the statue of me...and the Giant." The last comment got the crowd whispering about the Giant and the statue built in his honor.

"Ah, yes," said the head judge, "the Giant, I have seen the statue before. Good work there..." His eyes trailed over to Dean. "You were the one who built it, weren't you?"

"That I was," replied Dean.

The judged looked back at Hogarth. "And this statue?"

"Right," quoth Hogarth, "you see, I started thinking about the statue of the Giant, only in reverse. I thought about these...little robot dolls...only these little dolls are also organic, in a way."

"In a way?," quipped the redheaded female judge.

"Yeah." Hogarth bit his lip. "You see, what makes them organic, is that these little dolls are brought to life by a human soul." He caught the judges' confused looks. "The human soul would be transferred to the dolls through a mixture of science and magic."

"Kind of like alchemy," retorted the brown-haired judge.

"And about making the statue look like a half-human, half-robot," reiterated Hogarth. "Well, a lot of you have seen those science fiction movies. And you've read H.G. Wells, right? We often believe that humanity is the master of technology, but there are other times when technology governs humanity. Which brings me to my other entry." Hogarth lead them to the painting that was hidden under the sheet. "This painting I call 'Out of Connection.'"

He removed the sheet, revealing an elaborate painting. It wasn't as detailed as the blond girl's, but it was discernible enough. The painting showed a man freeing himself from the confines of a series of hooks plugged to a machine.

"You see," continued Hogarth, "technology can be used for both good or bad. Technology has gotten us this far, what with television, radios, automobiles. But therein lies the problem. Technology can also disconnect us from reality. Too much of a good thing isn't good at all. Television can be a good distraction, but too much of isn't healthy.

"Nobody knows the real effect power has on us until we are controlled by it. We may think we have power over something that we know can take over us, and when it happens you end up becoming a part of that technology you thought you could control. Humans believe they have power over nature and technology. Nature has existed before humanity. Technology has existed as long as humans have. In the end, nature will continue to live on even after humans are gone. And when technology falls nature will take over. Nature doesn't need humanity; it's humanity that needs nature. Because no matter how powerful humanity thinks it is, it will always be the slave of nature because humanity needs to eat the food, breathe the air and drink the water only nature can give us." Hogarth paused breathing in a much needed breath. His speech really took it out of him, but he had to explain everything to them.

Even if he didn't win, he was still glad he participated.

The judges meandered away to talk amongst each other. Annie walked up to her son.

"Hey," she whispered, "that was a great speech." She patted her purse. "They think so, too." 5, 9, 3 and 4 poked their heads out, smiling at him. Hogarth smile back at them.

"I think they're making their decision," spoke Duncan through a mouthful of cheese and cracker.

The judges stood at the center of the hall. The head judge was the one who stood at the head of the crowd, his entourage surrounding him.

"We have made our decision," said the head judge, "and we unanimously agree, that this year's first place award goes to..."

Here goes, thought Hogarth, it was a good long run.

"...Hogarth Hughes."

Hogarth's eyes protruded. He looked as though he misheard that.

"Huh?"

The head judge handed him a blue ribbon. First place written on it. A smile grew on his face.

"Yours was the most creative, the most authentic piece we've ever seen," said the old man. "You really blended the balance between humanity and nature and technology. It's something even I couldn't come up with."

"Indeed," commented another judge, this one sported strawberry blonde hair and wore a maroon dress.

"Thank you," said Hogarth.

"And," spoke another female judge, "as part of the first place reward," she took out a piece of paper, "here is your art certificate, plus, you be receiving the scholarship—"

"Oh, umm," Hogarth politely interrupted, "I, uh, I'm going to have decline—"

"Hogarth," interject Dean, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, "take it. You'll never know when you'll get another chance like this."

Hogarth bit his lip.

"Take it, even if you think you don't want it." Dean looked back at the sculpture. "Actually, this sculpture is even better than all of mine." He smiled. "You really got talent."

Hogarth took a look at his sculpture. "You're not wrong, though." He turned back to the judge. "I'll take the scholarship. But I want to donate this sculpture to the museum. And the painting."

"Very well," said the head judge, "so let..." He drifted off to continue his speech to the crowd.

"I am so proud," said Annie, hugging her son. She pecked him on the cheek.

"Mom." Hogarth chuckled. He looked down at his mother's purse, catching a glimpse of the four stitchpunks. 9 gave him a smile, nodding. The boy returned the gesture.

The judge with the brown hair sauntered up to Hogarth.

"Hey," he said, looking at Hogarth and at Dean, "like father, like son, right?"

The two looked at him befuddled before they looked at each other.

"Yup," quipped Terrence, wrapping his arms around the two, "they sure are."

"Yeah," said Dean.

As soon as the judge and Terrence ambled away, Hogarth looked at the crowd. In the very back, next to the window, he spotted a man standing there. He was dressed in a smoky grey trench coat. He wore a black hat. Hogarth screwed his eyes, trying to catch something he needed to remember for next time. He managed to see the man's eyes. Clear grey.

A blonde woman in a white dress walked by. When Hogarth looked back the man was gone. He didn't know who he was, but he was determined to find out who he was. But it would have to wait until another day. Right now, he was going to enjoy his night and his oncoming triumph.

Tonight was his night.

Okay, so, remember the mysterious man who appeared in chapter six? He appears again in this chapter. I wonder what he's planning. What is he going to do? I'm not sure. But I hope nothing bad happens.

Also, the part where they were asking 9 who he likes. That was mostly for me, but part of the plot. ^_^ All will be revealed when the time is right.