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With a quick flick of my hand, the sweater's zipper comes up with ease.

I'm ready.

It's eleven thirty and I'm ready. Carly should be parking at the end of the street about now. All that's left is to leave.

My mouth frowns. Am I forgetting something?

I snatch the flashlight from my nightstand.

A breeze blows through my room when the window is opened.

You need to focus, Maria. The "leaving the house and being as quiet as possible" part is probably the hardest.

Squeezing out the window isn't so bad, but steadying my balance atop the roof is. There's a slope to it, so one misstep could cause me to fall off. I sit and slide down it gingerly. Spotting the bush underneath, I dangle my legs over the edge and brace myself.

Ouch. Rough landing.

I pat my shoulder a few times; a small pang comes with it, but it's all good. I glance at the house one time before leaving the yard.

"Sleep tight, everyone."

—

Carly doesn't notice me right away so I knock on the passenger window. "H-hi!"

I slide into the seat. "Ready?"

"I should be asking you that! You're the one sneaking out!"

I never noticed how fidgety she was until now. More for us to have in common, then.

She huffs and puffs (certainly not enough to blow a house down) before starting the engine. The ride over to the lake is pretty much silent. There are dogs barking off in the misty distance and, somehow, the city still sounds like the city even with no one around.

The buildings shimmer, moonlight reflecting off one to another. Some of it falls in the middle of streets, forming a spotlight for anyone who might happen down them.

It's funny how everything can attain a mounting sense of beauty when the sun falls.

If there is one thing I could find myself loving about the city, it would be this. Which is strange, knowing how much I dislike the uproar and the crowds and all the showiness that comes with the living here (well, not so much at Martha's but nonetheless).

It's a small positive out of many, vast negatives.

The cease of movement shakes me from my reveries. Glancing at the driver, I spot the confused upturn of her lips. When she sees me, she grins sheepishly. "I'm just making sure I've got everything."

"Oh, okay." The velvety ripples of the lake wave back and forth. "Take your time."

"I'm not nervous at all!" Her mouth tightens in a frown, and she quickly let's go of it, placing her head on the driver's wheel.

"Um," I begin. "Are you alright?"

Whether we go or not is up to her. It's nice to just be out of Martha's house. It's nice not being worried about. It's nice to be like the midnight breeze itself—free.

It must be ten years later when I hear her suck in as much oxygen as possible, exhale, and say, "I. Am. Ready."

We go down the leafy path of the park that ends at the lake's bank. The walk around and up the hill is brimming with anticipation.

People line up at the door of the warehouse now. From those in rags to those showered in gold, chubby cheeked to low, hanging faces; it seems like everyone in town has shown up.

Now that I think about it…

"Do we have a plan?"

She doesn't say anything, and she doesn't have to.

"Hmm."

I slide down the hill a bit and begin walking to the back of the building.

"Oh! Good idea," Carly says once she understands. "No good reporter just walks in to get her scoop."

I grin. Her enthusiasm is too contagious for me not to, even if it is a small one.

"There's probably a window somewhere, one big enough for us to get through—there!"

The glass is already shattered into millions of pieces at our feet and we make it over the ledge without much trouble.

We decide that it would be best to sort out the rest of the plan amidst the dark.

For curiosity's sake, I run my fingers across the walls. Feels like tile—cool and slick.

"Carly," I call, "I think we're in a bathroom."

"I guess that explains the smell."

I nod, but realize she can't see me. "Where are you?"

The glow of the flashlight shines on her when she answers. Quickly, we exit the bathroom and roam the hallway outside. Trash clutters the way, things like potted plants and waste bins lay disheveled in heaps, forming a trail for us to follow.

"We just need to find a place to spy on them," chimes Carly, patting her camera. "Someplace we can get a few good shots without exposing ourselves."

"Our best bet would be to get to the highest level, then." I tilt my head up slightly, a frequent habit when thinking. "We'll figure out what to do once we're there."

Carly follows with an assured nod and no questions.

Silence is too much of a recurring topic between us two, so I break it with the thought of a certain blond giant. "Is it okay if I ask you something?"

Carly jumps somewhat, but nods. "You and Jack are friends, right?"

Almost immediately does a blush run across her face. "U-um. Yes, I-I guess so."

"Wouldn't he have been helpful?" Much more help than I can offer.

Her blush fades with a downward glance. "He's…too busy for me."

I think back to my last conversation with the boys. It was about the World Racing Grand Prix. Jack's reaction surprised me most—the determination in his abrupt response was obvious.

Just as obvious as Carly's hurt feelings. I guess I can understand both sides.

Carly tugs at my wrist. Startled, I look first to her then follow her gaze to the empty hall ahead.

Somewhere in the trash, a pregnant pause lies between us and becomes a dead silence after too much time.

It isn't until we hear a movement coming from down the hall that she yanks me into the room nearest us. I shut the flashlight off and we back ourselves against the door.

Our uneven breaths disperse across the room. Outside the door are two voices:

"Did you see something?"

"I thought so but maybe not. Eyes must 'a been playing tricks on me."

"Hell, we better not have ghosts in here."

They stop right by the door and, suddenly, it comes to mind how easily we would be caught if they were to open it. Air catches in my throat and I cup my hands around my mouth.

"Come on! Man up!"

Clack clack clack. The footsteps continue past us.

"Hey, if you stayed up till four o'clock watching a marathon of 'When Ghosts Go Boo', you'd be jumping outta your pants just as much as I am."

"Yeah whatever. Just don't let the boss hear you. You know how he feels about that kind of talk."

When we hear the minions no more, I crack the door open, look out and exhale with a lowered head. I limit the use of the flashlight just for precaution, but we make it up to the highest level without anymore trouble.

The top floor has only one room with three lengthy windows. A desk lays in a corner opposite the door and a few file cabinets line a wall but that's it.

I sit with knees to my chest, my head resting on them. I'm not interested in the gambling, and on top of that I'm worried. It was a close call back there.

Yes, I regret coming. I knew that when I offered I wouldn't be of too much help. In fact, the only help I've offered was getting us in, and I'm sure Carly could've done that by herself.

And she was the reason I came along. Somehow I knew she was doing this alone.

Maybe because it's something I'd do.

I just wanted to be sure she'd be okay and she seems fine so far. It's just another tally on the sheet of times I've worried over nothing.

By the window Carly takes pictures, trying to get every possible angle in every possible light, frame, and effect you can think of. But then she stops.

"Look," she calls. "Something's going on."

Just as I walk to the window, an elderly man down below cowers to his knees. The other, donning an outlandish pompadour, has his head thrown back as his shoulders shake with a cackle.

I glance down at the window sill, then turn back to Carly. "They don't open."

"There's gotta be another way," she whispers harshly.

Rummaging around the room doesn't do us much good. It's too dark to make out the minor details and the pressure to stay quiet hangs over us like the darkness itself.

I turn and see Carly struggling with a file cabinet. I don't ask and go to help. Poking out from the side of it is a rusted knob. Soon enough we move the cabinet away from the wall, which reveals a small door. Words are on it but they're far from legible.

A couple jiggles of the knob and budges with our shoulders makes the door give, leading onto a metal platform. Walking further away from the office leaves us dangling over the worker's area, a bird's eye view just as we wanted.

"This is perfect," hums Carly. I grin as the clicking starts up again, but keep my focus on the scene below.

Seeing mystical beasts and unused face-downs that begin to disappear signals the end of a duel. The man hunched on the ground clasps his hands, pleading for something of the duelist opposite him. It only makes him laugh harder, the sound slapping hard against the factory walls. It sends shivers down my spine. The trench coated man regains composure enough to step across the floor. With a shake of his head, he raises a leg and kicks the man down.

The clicking stops and, for the second time, I hold my breath.

Two goons, the ones that passed us up I think, appear at the old man's sides. Each one carries a baseball bat. Spats of "trash" and "scum" are what I can pick out from the livid crowd.

"We have to do something," I whisper. I've seen enough crime shows to know what a couple forceful smacks to the head can do. "We have to do something."

Panic hides behind Carly's thick frames. "But what? What could we do?"

A buzzing surges through my ear. No, not now.

Turning my head back to the office, I spot the faint glow against the window, the tiny body peering through the glass. Two uneven holes occupy the spaces where eyes would lay.

I stare, unable to hide my fascination and horror, at the nearly transparent being. It lifts its head as the holes within widen, takes one glance toward me, and vanishes in a poof of white flames.

The disappearance gives me a rush of courage and I stumble back to the door. Or try to, at least, before hearing a yelp behind me. Carly's arms hang over the rail as her mouth drops.

Her camera plummets to the ground, almost thirty feet below.

The crowd is shushed by the sound, no one moving, or breathing for that matter.

A pompadour moves upward among them. The owner scowls when he sees us, never once removing his gaze, even as he saunters over to the pieces. He observes them as he picks up the cracked lens, sighing.

"Now," he says, tilting his head up again, "wouldn't you get a better view of the show if you were down here instead?"

Carly comes to my side and whispers, "What do we do?"

Glancing to the old man seated on the floor and back to the other, I say quietly, "Don't hurt him."

"I don't think I heard you right." He cups a hand around his ear, "Care to repeat?"

I don't say anything, and he laughs: "Thought so."

Carly grabs my arm and I look at her in complete understanding. Together we run down the platform. When we reach the edge that goes to another door, someone shouts, "Get them, you idiots!" We pass through and quickly leave to sprint down the hall.

Coming to a fork, and seeing three bulky men at the end of one, we choose the other. They run with such force the floor vibrates under them. We hit the stairs and land in another hall with a split, the men not far behind.

"We should split up," I gasp. I won't last too much longer, and I don't want drag her with me.

"What? No!" Carly yells.

I slow my pace and she stops in front of me. "You have a phone?" She nods. Spinning in the opposite direction, I run and shout over my shoulder, "Then call for help!"

I've pushed my lungs for too long and, before I know it, I'm falling over into a heap of trash. At least I've made it back to square one, I want to say. But a mocking chuckle catches me off guard.

There's two of them, one bigger than the other, meaning only one of their buddies went after Carly. All I can do is hope she's alright.

I scoot away and the smaller one smiles. "The boss is gonna have real fun with you," he says through heavy breaths. "I can already tell."

It's stronger than it's ever been, the tingling sensation. I'm only noticing it now, but I think it's been growing ever since we started running.

This can't be good. Whatever is about to happen can not be good if it means something inexplicable.

Groggily, I stand. The larger and closer one huffs: "I'd stay down if I were you."

My head pounds and I have to force my words out. "I thought we were playing a game."

I ready myself to run, and so does he, but there's one thing that keeps us both.

The scream, a bloodcurdling grunt from his friend. Something sits over him, hidden by shadows. It growls and transforms the yells into a cross of human pain and an animal pouncing.

I fight the fear and the worry for the man down the hall and take this as my chance. I run to the door where I know the bathroom is and leap through the glassless window.

I want to go back. Make sure Carly is okay. Even the two men.

But there comes another scream and, instantly, I'm aware that the uninjured half of the twosome is now being attacked. I get off the ground and take a few steps before I fall and tumble down the hill.

Sprawled on the grass, I try to catch my breath. I might just be passing out.

Something glows behind the trees.

And I feel like such an like an idiot doing this, but I head to it. Back at the lake, I go to my knees and do the only thing I can—cough.

"I see you've finally made it," comes a voice. It's thick and muffled, like listening to a radio station you haven't got a clear signal to.

I look up. Over the lake hangs the shimmer I saw, now condensed into a small, golden orb.

"What is happening?" I whisper, shaking my head at myself. "It's been a long time coming, but I think I've finally lost it."

"Whatever it is that you've lost," starts the voice, "has lead you on a search, and here, you have found me."

Rubbing my fingers into my temples, I scold, "You don't have time for this, Maria! There are people in there who are getting hurt—"

"Men who would have hurt you in return."

"People nonetheless!"

I want to say the orb sighs, but I can't be very sure of much right now. Orbs of any kind shouldn't be on my list of priorities.

Birds scatter the sky and I lay back to watch them. They tweet so noisily that whatever it is the orb says next, I have to ask it for a repeat: "It is apparent to me that you are not in a state for discussion."

I nod.

"Perhaps, on the next time we meet, you will be in a more willing position to discuss the events that are soon to occur."

I nod again, slower this time. A bush rustles and footsteps follow, but they don't continue and seem to stop abruptly, along with the orb.

Mom says to me—reciting one of her many mantras as usual, "Just focus on the sky. Focus on the sky and nothing else."

For a small moment, I close my eyes. It can't be longer than the time it takes to blink.

When they reopen, the birds are gone. No voices speak to me. The sky has changed—still indigo and starless but beyond is orange.

I hate myself for thinking this but I've got to get up. I won't stay long, I think. Just enough to spot Carly and then I'll leave.

Sector cars sit in the rocky parking lot, the sirens still blinking red and blue. A crowd has formed and I assume it's the same one that was inside, with it's fair mix of security officers and reporters added in.

I go no further than the edge, stopping behind the yellow tape. Scanning the crowd, I spot her (it's really hard to miss her, actually). And once I turn, it's made obvious that she's seen me too.

"I'm glad you're okay," she says while ducking under the tape. "I didn't know what to think when we split up!"

An officer follows her. The first thing I notice are his thick, black eyebrows. "I'm guessing this is her."

I can only look at the ground or spare a few glances at Carly. She looks relieved, among other things, and it makes my stomach a bit lighter.

"You called for help, though," I smile.

"If it wasn't for you," she replies. "I wouldn't have thought of it."

I almost shake my head to disagree, but Carly's turned back to the officer. "What's wrong, Ushio?"

Ambulances drive into the lot. Out come the medics and they run through the building doors.

"I thought this was just another gambling ring," he sighs.

The medics come back within minutes. Cameras of local TV stations film them wheeling the two cots onto the trucks.

I turn away to face Trudge just as he pulls a cigarette from his shirt pocket. He doesn't light it and instead closes his eyes.

"But seems they've found bodies."

Pretty dramatic chapter. And so early on, I know! It's going to sizzle down a bit. I'm probably going to put in more comedic chapters. Beware though. They might be on the short side.

Thanks a whole lot for everything you're guys have done. Favoriting, following, reviewing—they mean a lot and I love getting them.

Til next time my lovelies!