Song: My last Breath-Evanescence

Nine inch nails: Closer

A/N: Long monologue, but many things take place by the end. I was trying to capture her devastation and you are meant to feel a little back and forth in her here. I sat on this one a little bit. Wasn't sure it felt right, but my muse has not inspired me to change it. This signals a change from 'kitten' to 'Puma' for our Veronica. The Mask will play a role also in future chapters and we will also bring in Wallace, YAY! It will be a long journey before she finds/trusts herself. She will become more like show detective Veronica in parts, and a little like her rocker also. Think about the logic of needing money and resources to make this happen (what you will read at the end). Music and detective work will go hand in hand to get us ahead.

I was surprised that Terry ended the way he did. Its a new twist, even for me, but it will only add to this second part and bring us into the third. Rocker part-here we go. This part 2 is the set up to part 3. Next chapter: Veronica, "The Bitch is back. I'm done being a victim." Good, glad to hear it girl cause I'm excited to write strong and sure Veronica. Rawr! Yes, I am currently writing the next chapter(s). Drop me a line about what you like so far.

Destiny Rocks

Ch. 7

I feel so naked, bare, and exposed. It's like one of those dreams you have when you go to school and are naked, or in just your underwear, and everyone is laughing at you. Tell me I'm not the only one who's had one of those? Well, that part I am used to, but not this naked feeling. I wear more clothes than I have for over two years. I've been spoiled being in the mental facility. Truth be told, I feel almost normal, and I can't cope with it.

Yeah, I'm all ducked up now. I thought I could do this the whole way, but I get nightmares. I just want to forget, but fate won't let me. Who am I anymore?

I've bitten my nails raw, and as I look at them bleed, it's the only thing I notice that I've felt. This woman who I am staying with…she gives me a knowing look. But I am not that kind of girl. I won't go back to that world. I can't take this kind of hell either. It's been over two years, or so, I guess since I've been free. I thought it was always my choice to stay, but I forgot my way out. Weevil was right. In that hell, for that long, I got lost. All I feel is rage when I see my own blood. So I did what I did best these days-I paced.

Then I found myself in the bathroom. There were scissors in there, and I chopped off all my hair. It was gross, matted, and I think I saw flies. Not sure. I'm used to a world of ropes, whips, and pain. Without pain, I feel…restless. Like I am waiting for something to hurt, and it doesn't, and it makes me afraid? God, I don't know.

Normalcy…it's like I've been ruined for my future and I am not sure what it really is. Fuck school. Sometimes as I dream, I can hear them taunting me. Sometimes there are other things…things I can't face. Then sometimes I see my dad's, face. Or mom's. Even Lily's. I drank a few times, and I could sleep, but I know where that road goes, and I don't want that either.

"God, what's wrong with me…" I say aloud and grab what is left of my sad hair. What have I …done? Every damned sounds jars me like I'm some caged animal, and I wish for my father. I let my body slide down the wall, crying with a handful of my gross hair, and it doesn't do me any good. I don't have him-or anyone. Not anymore. I just have a fucked up rocker who is probably crazier than I. At the end of the day, I'll take it. The world forgot Veronica Mars, and I want her to end and just become someone else.

When I look up, I see a harlequin mask. Not exactly sure why I like this thing, I take it off one of Maria's many wracks. This woman has way too many-costumes. My head cocks as I examine it, my bleeding fingers touch the soft satin and lace that are glued to the mask. Its extravagant, and a bit gothic even for me, but I place it over my face and tie it on tightly. When I am done, I stand in front of the mirror, and it's like an epiphany has happened. Instantly, I feel safe.

Closer by Nine Inch Nails plays in the background.

He sings:

Help me
I broke apart my insides
Help me
I've got no soul to sell
Help me
The only thing that works for me
Help me get away from myself

I let the tune roll over me as I stare at myself. My blue eyes are empty yet so full. What is this look? My blond hair- that was once so pretty- is now in shambles on the floor. Good riddance, Veronica, I think to myself. Pretending is all I have in this very moment. My once perfect skin-and life-are all but distant memories. They seem fake, they seem so…gone. The mask hides everything. So I let it, as I can't seem to control myself right now.

He still sings:

Help me
You make me perfect
Help me become somebody else

This song is probably just about sex, but I find I can somehow relate to it. Not sex, of course, but the desire to disappear. There is no fight in me. I want to be someone else so badly, my poor mind flashes its memories at me so quickly, I feel like I'm spinning. Inside my chest, my black heart picks up pace, adrenaline begins to lighten my limbs. My cheeks are wet, my blood is alive with the memories of what I endured, and I let out the loudest angriest scream I can. I can feel them inside me. Behind the harlequin, I am no one. Yet, somehow, I am everyone.

My body reflects the torture I've gone through, and I wouldn't be beautiful like I was. Wow, I tell myself, selfish much? Remember why you did this, I remind myself. For mom and dad. I can't forget-anymore than I felt I've already abandoned them. There are others still stuck inside that hell, but I am afraid to go back. Why did you do this if you are so weak, I tell myself.

I take this moment to shed what I can, and find myself under it all. It's been almost two years since I allowed myself to face my own reflection. The mask comes off. I don't miss my hair or my clothes as I enter the shower. God knows, everyone has seen me. It's all I can do to sit here and not thank the gods I have running water. I'm almost afraid to let myself enjoy it, but the joy breaks free and I feel it. For once, I am clean. For once, I can feel the softness of cotton on my skin. For once, I am not starved or crying in pain. MAC? Where is she? I saw the news, but she is gone. Weevil-god, I need to help him.

Rather than laugh, I sit here and cleanse myself, crying like the clown I feel like. These people have been destroyed by my vendetta. I stayed there a very- very long time, apparently.

After her show, Maria came in and found me there. She called me a beautiful 'creature', and seemed to bring me back to myself. I don't know how she seems to know what I need and when I need it. It freaks me the fuck out. She examines the mask, but I just shake my head at her. I'm not ready. These emotions are too much. I cannot forget everyone. But I cannot face it either.

Maria tells me things, but I can't make sense of it all. There are lists, forms, papers, and more just piles on. Days go by, and I am lost in them. Some days I just stare at my reflection. She says she wants to take me to people who can fix the outside, but she says I am beautiful the way I am. Sad, even she noticed my vanity.

My scars are deep and no laser will fix what is left where my heart used to be. You cannot unsee and unfeel what I have. I've seen her body, as she has no qualms about nudity, and I understand now. She was once me. When I look at all her shit, it scares the fuck out of me. Is this what I will become? Do I even care? Let's be honest, I ran from whips and stuff. She seems to thrive off being tied up. It reminds me of those books everyone read just a few years ago about that lunatic control freak and the virgin he tied up and screwed. I hate the idea of sex. I don't let anyone touch me either. I remember the five faces, and I know there is a creature inside me just waiting to devour the ring that so many of us suffered. I have to, I made it out. Why can't I go back and set them free?

I laughed at her one night, which I don't think she liked. Then I cried realizing she was the only person who has been nice to me. It's like time has stopped and I just am. It's weird, but she somehow gets it and I don't understand that though I should. Months have passed. How do people survive this type of depravity and know themselves?

Maria tells me she made a stage image and funneled all her bullshit into that, and she looked at the mask when she said that. She quieted down some, listening to me hum one day, and got it in her head to hand me a journal. She said it would help me. She said the rage needs to come out and that it will when I am ready to face it. I let my fingers etch over the soft texture of the front, and miss my old one. It was dads, but he gave it to me. It had L.A. on it. - Love always- Mom was such a sap when she'd given it to him.

Yeah, sure.

So Maria…We are so unalike in personality. I was girly, and she is dark. I liked pink, she lives with almost everything black. Or red. She's loud and a screamer, and I am a husk of a person. I like it when she screams on stage. I love it when I hear my song so perfectly brought to life by her 'image'.

I can't seem to respond to her the way I know I should. The pity in her eyes hounds me, but my usual wit has escaped me. She says things…but I don't remember much anymore. I mean I think I do, but then I wake up and just disassociate. The rage is too much and I am afraid to face it. Then there is everything else I noticed around me. The one good thing is the fact that we are on a tour bus going god knows where, but it means I am moving around.

Then one day, I just relaxed.

I think she is on stage right now, and I feel at liberty to take everything in around me. The walls of her room are lined with red, sheets of silk and velvet, and she has a real big thing for spiders. When she came in earlier, she was wearing…god how would I describe it? All Goth and metal as a costume. I left the bus we were on and I watched her perform. There was control and power… and the music was just insane. I didn't know it, but I had the mask in my hand as she went about her routine. Maybe we were more alike than I liked to admit. She bought me pink things, but my life was void of color. I liked things harder now. Darker.

Veronica sat on the top of one bus's and watched as the band made their way briskly back from the stage avoiding the crazed fans. What a nightmare, she thought and struggled with the imagined fingers of all those who would touch her in that position. They were chatting like friends did, and she felt herself swallow in response. Maria being around was one thing, but the males were another. When Maria happened to look up, it was like she knew just where Veronica was.

"Oh damn," she said more out of shock than fear. "Hey guys," she said in that warning tone she had. Though Veronica couldn't hear her, she watched the exchange with interest.

Her lead guitarist Terry looked up on top of what used to be 'all of their' tour bus, and shook his head, "What the hell did she do to her hair?" his tone has an indignant whine to it. "Is she really that crazy?"

Maria smiled more to herself, "she's started to shed her skin. Boys, that a good thing. If we could open up her mouth and get her to sing-"

Terry sneered, "I can open her mouth real good."

Maria just stared at him deadpanned. "Really. Is that your go to every time?"

"I like it every time." Terry had the darkest, and most beautiful black skin Maria had ever seen. What he had in looks, he lost when he opened his mouth, however. "What? I can't joke either? Hey, its bad enough we gave up the bus for her and you."

The drummer Mark piped in swinging his dread locks to the side, "can we all get on one bus, or is the puppy still down and kicked?"

"You have your own. Games, non-stop-messy smelly rooms. No bitches to complain. What's not to love?" Maria flexed her Freddy Kruger like gloved hands with their sharp edges, "Play nice, boys. I'm saying that girl has some fucking pipes on her. She's like us."

"That bitch looks cray-cray," the Terry indicated Veronica. His attire jingled with all its metal dangling. He was an odd one, preferring heavy metal to rap, but hey, everyone had their own style. He'd been moved around a ton, many times with white men and they loved the rock. Terry shrugged to himself. That girl wasn't like them at all. He wondered how long it would take Maria to understand it.

"Say what?" She looked him up and down. "What are you going for with this costume anyway?"

"Fuck, who cares," he said slyly and grabbed a beer that was tossed at him. He glanced at Mark, "What?"

Mark glared at him, "Da-Fuck you talking like some punk shit, man? I'll 'cray-cray' that fat fuckin' head of yours."

"Boys," Maria laughed and placed her hands on her hips the best she would. "Damn," she muttered scratching herself.

"Careful," Terry said when he noticed how close the edges were to her costume, "nails are for back scratchin', but you could away flash us…"

"In your dreams," Maria casually threw back at him.

He shrugged, "Every night."

Mark gave him an eye roll. Mark and he shared a look and gyrated their hips in unison. That made them laugh. The blond that overlooked them disappeared right after that.

Terry groaned and tossed his head back. Everyone had been too crabby since 'goldie locks' had shown up. Voice or not, he didn't see the draw and much preferred his sista's to small white girls. He raised his beer, "to Sevendust, motherfuckers. I ain't the only black dude out here with the cray-cray crackers!"

Maria turned on him and added her two cents, "please don't tell me you just used that phrase. I almost want to puke. It's like YOLO or some shit. Get the fuck out of here with that crap." If I gotta here that phrase one more fucking time, Maria thought distracted.

"You people made it up." His hands fanned out and she walked away, "What?" He yelled surprised. "I was joking."

"Sure," she flicked him off with her gloves hand. "Sevendust wipes the floor with you."

"Bitch," Terry grumbled. They were his inspiration to join rock.

"Every time," Maria tossed back sweetly.

Veronica came down the small ladder from the top of the bus's sunroof. It was pretty neat, almost like we could tailgate on the top of this bad boy, she thought. Memories of better times flashed in her head.

A voice startled her, "You OK, kitten?"

"Why do you call me that?" Veronica remarked almost bitterly. She bit her lips to keep from complaining further. "I'm not cute or fluffy," she tried to reason.

"Cause when you grow out of this," she indicated Veronica's new look, "you will be a lion. Or a puma. Yeah, all sleek and elegant but a real killer." Maria made a fist and pumped it. "Right now you are…"she carefully chose her words, "a kitten-a baby. When you unleash that beast inside of you, there will be hell to pay."

Veronica gave her an Elvis lip. "I'm not like you."

Maria shrugged, "Bitches gotta get that money."

Veronica just shook her head and the tall blonde.

"Well, not yet." Maria stared at her for a moment, turned, grabbed Veronica's Journal from a nearby shelf and tossed it on the floor at her feet. Despite the action, Veronica felt a flash of heat light her face.

"You read it?" her voice rose, and her eyes narrowed at Maria dangerously.

"Chill, Sinéad O'Connor." Maria gave her a stupid look, "Of course I did. It's fucking fantastic too."

"You had no right-" Veronica started and pointed at her. "I didn't shave my head either."

"Fuck your rights, kid." When Veronica moved toward her, Maria cut her off. "What are you gonna do, Kitten?" She stepped closer to Veronica testing her boundaries, "Gonna slap me? I've been beaten. Yell at me? I've heard it all. Hurt me?" She dropped her tone, "well discuss that."

Veronica felt herself gasp, and Maria grabbed her by the arm. "I am not the enemy. Take a frickin chill pill and change your rag."

Veronica went to swipe her, but Maria ducked, "I'm not on my period!"

Maria widened her gaze when she stood, "shit, you get worse than this once a month?"

"You want to be hurt?" Veronica pulled herself away and noted Maria's slight disappointment. She swallowed unsure what to make of that. Her head did that side to side thing when she was unhappy with something.

"I like certain kinds of pain," Maria remarked and looked around the bus. "Controlled pain where I give permission. Where I am the object to be pleased. I need an outlet, I learned how to cope. D/s."

Veronica hugged herself, "So sex games? How is that any better? It's the same fucked up shit you came from."

Maria tried to control herself as she responded to the insult. Veronica was still naïve in the ways of the world. "Not all of us grew up on the nice side of town, honey. The need will fall on you-or it won't," she shrugged. "People like use were abused, we take drugs, and we fuck. We have a hard time with it, but the needs of rape victims are pretty well founded so it's not just for fun that I say that. Try google. You will have intense desires and give yourself to everyone. Or you can control it."

"I'm done being tied down," she remarked with a rage she hadn't expected. "Is this why you took me out of there?"

Maria turned on her and removed her costume gloves one finger at a time while she stalked Veronica. "No, kitten. Your music…the words…I've lived your life. It resonated with me on a deep level. I also saw the news and I put it together. I found you. I know how sick fucks work so it took longer than I wanted. Also, you were already eighteen. So many of us have lived this life. This is why you are here. We take care of one another. It's all we got. No one gives a shit about us. We are just 'fucked up and drugged out Gothic mishaps they want to make money off of before we burn out or self-detonate. Who came for you when you were in the nut house? I'm not trusting myself with some rich man, or some Starbucks loving asshat whose hands are soft. It's not like I can't pretend to be one of them, but inside, I am demented and I cannot relate to normal people. Why try? All they do is judge you anyway."

"I despise sex and anyone's touch," Veronica said quietly.

"For now," Maria added almost too sure of herself and with a hint of remorse. Veronica paled and Maria cocked her head. "You do remember-"

"No," Veronica turned her head away. She was mortified to even be discussing this. "You are saying I can't ever love someone? That I'll be easy?"

"Babe," she said and draped an arm over the smaller girl. "Love for us is harsh. The ones you really love you are afraid to touch and let touch you, and the rest you just open for anyone else. It's not just that. You are afraid to stop someone who takes-and so they do." She paused and noted the look on Veronica's face. "I forget how young you are inside. You dream about it then?"

She felt Maria cup the base of her chin, but refused to answer. Tears filled her eyes and she hated that this woman could so easily read her.

She let Veronica go when the girl pulled briskly away. "You feel an ache when you wake up and then the guilt of what it represents if you respond that way? You do feel it. In time, your brain will decide if you don't take control. While it is completely abnormally normal, it's just the fear and the guilt."

Veronica turned away and gripped herself at the ribs. She'd felt weird…desires, but she closed it down as fast as she could. "So it's not me-me."

"It's OK," Maria coo'd gently. "No, your brain is trying to make sense of what you went through. They drugged you to feel that way-I think it was X. They took from you. You didn't want them to but…"

Veronica turned, "It's not OK!" Her limbs shook, her eyes blazed with life, and her pale face was once again flushed.

"Then it will be OK," she tried again. "Don't you feel more alive now than you ever have?"

Even as her eyes filled with un-ushered tears, Veronica remained confused and distant. "I'm dead inside."

"No, you are in pain. You have the chance to be reborn, like a phoenix. Burn the hell away. Cut your hair, change your clothes, but keep finding the girl inside, Veronica. Do what needs to be done-wear the mask if you need to, but don't forget who you really are. Rise from the ashes. The world won't change. Only you can. Otherwise, we would just be its victims. It's how it is for us."

Veronica's shoulders sagged, her eyes rolled in disbelief, and she turned away again. I'm getting good at that, she noted to herself. She noticed Maria getting frustrated. Then there was a palpable change in the air and she turned and looked at Maria.

Maria spoke softer this time, her voice a little shaken, "my daddy was my first lover, kitten. Took my cherry and everything. He came to my bed, he hurt me, and then the hurt felt good one night. Can you imagine what that did to me? What I thought of myself? I believed he loved me, and I knew it was wrong, but…The first night I came," her voice wavered, "I ran and told my ma. She laughed at me and threw her fucking whisky at me and told me I was a marriage wrecking cunt. Tossed my ass out. I ran away rather than go back when mom didn't believe me. If the people you love don't believe you, who else will?" She sat down and stared off into the distance. "I became a whore, because I must be a whore for what my body did, on the streets until my son was born."

Veronica had turned, her mouth slowly falling open as she heard Maria's tale. "So I will just put out for anyone then? That's it?"

Maria sighed, "You are not like me, per se, but we all share some things. I project that I am weak, but I can be lethal too. Just in my own way." She ducked her head down and really got Veronica's attention. "I sue what I have now. I leave em with a bite."

Veronica's eyed widened, "so that's why you like the black widow."

Maria laughed a bit to herself. "I could be that little girl and cry over it, or I can make what I can of it. I have everything. I like pleasure, but I tend to hate men. Aside Terry and Mark sometimes. Terry taught me..." her eyes glanced at Veronica briefly, "what I needed to do. He never forced me. I'm happier and very selective in who I allow to see me weak. "I still have all the control. Imagine how I feel having to trust, and yet giving that trust, and getting a good result."

"But you still feel that…need." Veronica looked at the walls. She swallowed harshly. "I survived the whips and the closets, and the torture." She felt the hysterics begin to rise within. The hair on the back of her neck stood on edge. "I don't understand," she whispered.

"And maybe you won't. It depends if you can outrun the memories, kitten. For some of us, it's all we know. You were older, so who knows?" Maria studied her curious at how quick the young kitten was at catching her meaning. She wondered if it was harder on the smaller girl because she'd lived two very distinct lives. "We are not all strong as you are. There is no tiger in me. I had to make peace with that and learn to control myself. When pimps beat me, no one came. After that, I just broke. Terry took me in. He made me strong. Now I get up on that stage and I scream. I project strength."

Veronica was surprised, "really."

"Yes," Maria nodded. "He taught me this lifestyle." She looked to the walls almost ashamed, "But I love how it feels. I may be tied up, but it is my will, my words that control it, and ultimately I get my pleasure how I want it. You may not tread this path," she shrugged and changed the subject. "What are you going to do about that hair?"

Despite herself, Veronica laugh cried. "Shave my head?"

Maria joined in on the laughing and snorted, "Well, how about some girl time. But…you have to let me add some flare if you are going to hang out with this crowd. And I promise the guys get it. Ok, so don't think of them that way."

Veronica stared at herself in the mirror-yet again- this time in a chair at a salon. "Uh…"

The stylist looked at her uneasily. "You don't like it?"

"No, no!" Veronica rushed, "it's just so not like me."

The stylist shrugged her chubby body and looked over to Maria. "Good?"

"Doll," she announced after carefully scrutinizing the smaller girl. "This goes so well with the mask at home."

Ugh, the mask. "I'm not gonna sing."

Maria had forced Veronica to entrust her with a plan. At first, Veronica remembered digging in her heals at the very notion of going outside, let alone being around a couple of men. The mask had a red satin and black feathered look on one of the sides. Maria's words resounded in her head. It would be nice to pretend.

She turned her now full head of hair side to side. Extensions in blonde and black, a few streaks of red. "How do I wash this?"

Both Maria and the stylist laughed, "Honey, I'll tell ya all about it." Veronica moved back as the girl really liked to talk with her hands.

An hour later, she was being dragged to a sports bar with everyone in their sort of public disguises. They stood out, just not as The Band.

"I feel stupid," she complained on the way as they strolled down the street.

"You look sexy, here." She handed Veronica a clip to hold all her hair in a bun. "Like a wild cat. Just feel it, like a character in a book. Didn't you take drama in high school?"

"Not what I was going for," Veronica mumbled tersely. "I was the school slut, ironically funny because I was a virgin."

Maria looked at her oddly, "What?"

"Let's say school was drama enough for me. Boyfriend left me, best friend did me in, and I lost all my friends, because of my dad who was on to something. He was killed with my mom," she explained. "I stood by what he believed, and got shunned, and rumors ran about me being one of the towns love children, to being a slut, and so on. The name Mars does not provoke anything peaceful in the town of Neptune."

"I'm sorry about your parents." Maria snarkly replied after watching her friend for a moment. "I know. You need to be comfortable in your own skin. And around men. Fuck the past. This is you now."

"Do I have to show so much…?" Veronica stopped midway through a crosswalk. Maria stopped, turned, and grabbed her by the arm.

"You'd wear long sleeves if you could. Stop hiding. And this is the bar." She pushed her aside to open the door. At the table, were three guys. Terry and Mark were there downing beers, and one Veronica didn't know. The food looked mostly gone also. Maria bumped into a staring Veronica who'd again stopped, and then her eyes followed to the table.

"You keep stopping like that you'll get run over, Christ." Veronica was ready with a retort when she noticed Maria's face change. "Oh, it's Brent!"

Who the hell was that? Veronica wondered to herself. He was tall, with dark brown hair to his shoulders, thick and lean. His eyes could only be described as pretty. His body was clad in black set of attire-a suit-but not Gothic. Yum on the tattoos she saw peeking out from his wrists, she thought and then shook herself. Still, it had been the first nice response she'd felt in such close proximity to anything male.

"I know," Maria said dreamily and whispered, "Though you may want to close your mouth, hon."

Nervously, and with a quick lick of her lips, Veronica slapped both hands on her cheeks to will away the growing redness she was surly sporting. "Brent?"

Maria snorted and looped an arm through Veronica's and dragged her over much closer now. "He used to play base, but now he's got his own band. Seems a little writer was selling her lyrics to many of us," she finished and gave her friend a pointed look. "He went to Neptune to seek you out. You were in the nut house. That's when I got there."

"WH-huh?"

"He wanted to meet the writer, the famous L.A., who took his album by storm, Miss Veronica. And you owe him song lyrics. Imagine if he came to your school and surprised you."

"That would have went over real well." Shit, Veronica thought in mild panic. She'd sold so much of her work, she'd forgotten to who. It had been barely legal as it was, but The Man had nothing on her and couldn't take the money now. The others didn't know of her little scheme either. How had this Brent found her? A small unsettling uneasiness turned her stomach. Carefully, she looked around with narrowed eyes. Nothing seemed out of place, but she also noted, I don't look like I used to.

"Calm your tits," Maria said bashfully and stuck out her hand. To Brent she said, "Hey man, how's it going?"

He smiled, which Veronica missed a she was scouting her surroundings, "It's been really good. Is that her? Is it L.A.?"

Brent paused and waited for the small-blonde?-to look at him. This girl's songwriting had single handedly launched his career. When she hadn't delivered like all the other times, he'd known something was amiss. He'd also found out that she was a minor and had to wait until she was eighteen to approach her on the business matter.

Brent tried to grab her attention. For someone so talented, he was a bit surprised by how uneasy she seemed. His eyes met Maria's for the briefest moment, his brow lifted unsure.

Veronica cleared her throat and looked over at the guy who'd addressed her. "Well, it's just a pen name. I was a minor at the time, but I know my way around the law. My name is Veronica Mars."

"Oh?" He asked seemingly surprised. "What's it mean? The pen name?"

Veronica scowled, "That's just for me to know." She shook her head at his rudeness.

Brent's brows shot up in surprise, and the blonde went back to looking around nervously.

He asked her cautiously, "You OK?"

"I'm fine," she snapped her gaze back to his.

Terry busted out with, "figures. Goldie locks doesn't have an ounce of manners, man."

Mark shook his head also. Veronica watched them all carefully, feeling a sense of awkwardness engulf her small frame. Then she added, "What? It's not like you actually piss in the toilet more than out of it."

Maria, who'd taken a sip of Terry's extra 2 for 1 beers, spit it out at the come back and laughed, "kitten's got claws, Terry."

He glared at Veronica, who took the seat next to Maria.

Mark added, "See, I knew you guys were lovers." He slapped Terry on the arm, who in turn raised a bored brow. "Look how close they are."

Brent tried to hide a grin, and looked away, but Veronica only saw red. Enough, was the last thought she had before Mark's hair was in her hand, his face slammed against the table as he gasped. He reached both hands up on the tabled to push the bitch back, but a knife between two fingers stopped him cold. Veronica moved in closer, hiding the sight from people who could see it.

Warm breath centered near his ear, and Veronica's voice whispered, "I know all the points to cut your pretty little veins and have you bleed out in less than 3 minutes." She pushed him to the table for measure, and stepped away and waited. The knife went with her, but Mark shook a moment noting where the imprint still sat between his fingers. That little shit hadn't even had time to look where she'd aimed.

Mark turned, eyes blazing with fury, as he took in the Veronica who moved faster than lightening. It unsettled him just how quick she was, and how unhinged. Being one up'd by this cranky kid got the better of him, however, and he shot out, "If you can do that, why didn't you give it to daddy yourself? Gotta get the Latino to do it for you? Well off white girl like you can't handle-"

Veronica balked and slammed a fist into his nose, and went for him again when Maria stepped in to stop her, "We are in a public place."

Veronica's eyes narrowed at Mark over Maria's shoulder. Terry stared at her liked she'd grown a set of horns, and something about the intensity of Brent's eyes caught her attention. Mark jutted out his chin and sneered, so she pushed Maria aside and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. Terry went for Maria to protect her after Veronica tossed her aside without qualm.

"Listen to me carefully this one time. I won't say it again," she slapped Mark's face when he looked away. "You think it was just me in there? You think that he is my real daddy or just made me his bitch? Poor little white girl who lost her mommy and daddy and had it hard for two years?" Veronica shook the larger man, who now held out both his palms in a defeated manner.

"There is an entire ring of those fuckers, at least fifty kids still in that hell. How many do you think they've killed? Every day that Latino," she said it with all the disgust he had put into it and yet managed to add profoundness, "cared for me and asked me what the fuck I was doing. I took it all because I am not stupid. I don't get mad, Mark, I get even. I can play stupid, but my dad was on to something and they killed him, took me, and did everything they could. I almost had that fat fuck," she let him go and noticed they'd caused a scene. "I sold my music so I could have it for when this was all over. I don't get a dime of what The Man had, nor do I want it. One day, I'm going to take his house, and everything he owned, and give it to those who fucking need it. I'm not too proud to be someone's bitch for that. For all of us, but what do you know about loyalty, big man? Weevil gave his life for me, and I owe him mine. You think I'm just sitting here not making my game plan?" She laughed mockingly, "you don't know Veronica Mars."

Veronica eyed every single person at her table, and then turned on her heels and left.

Maria whispered, "There is the Puma."

Terry casually put his beer down and looked at Maria who still stared after Veronica's form, "you sure you know what you are doing there? Some cats are rogue, love."

Maria bowed her head, took a deep breath, and raised her eyes to Brent's. To Terry she said, "yes, and she is worth it. She isn't like us, she's a fighter. A wild cat."

Terry took a casual drink and rolled his eyes brown eyes and Mark readjusted his shirt, "PMS," he said a little too loud which got some snickers and a few negative nods from the older folk. He rolled his eyes carefully and shook his clothes out.

Brent handed him a napkin for his nose, "Gotta admit, for a small thing, she packs a good punch."

"I'm going after her," Maria said and jumped up.

Veronica fumed with each step her legs took her. Pound, click, pound, click. Fear settled into her gut again, and she wondered if she'd lost her edge. Maybe Mark was right, but then she fought that down with everything she mustered. Her body felt cold, and tiny shivers cascaded down her arms. You lost it, she countered. Get it together, girl.

Veronica Mars always made people pay. It's time to remind them.

When she looked up, she stood at a crosswalk. There was a man on the other end of the road waiting while he chatted on his phone. Though it was mostly cloudy, he had large sunglasses on, was well-built, and his clothes seemed off to her somehow. She looked to the lights as they flashed from yellow to red, and then to the cross walk sign that lit up. Shoving both hands in her pockets, Veronica walked ahead.

From far off, she heard Maria's voice and turned to look at her running up with Brent in toe. Just then, a large screech sounded and a white van pulled up. Maria began waving frantically, and time seemed to stop for Veronica. Before she knew it, the man crossing the street grabbed her and held her in place once he'd dragged her to the side of the now open van.

Maria looked on horrified at what she saw. "Take the plates and pictures!" she screamed at Brent who was already ahead of her.

He tossed her the phone, "get a car! NOW"

Maria looked down at the phone as Brent raced onward toward the struggling duo. Good, she saw pictures already on it. She dialed Terry, who was probably in the rental car with Mark already.

"What's up and who is this?"

"Terry!" she yelled breathlessly. "Maria. Brent's phone. Come around the corner, they got Veronica! White van. Brent's running. Hurry!"

She fell to her knees in exhaustion and Brent pounded into the guy holding Veronica, but that only pushed her further towards the van. A masked man looked out, grabbed Veronica by the hair and pulled her just so. Her toes scrapped the ground and she choked and gasped for air.

Everything seemed to stop. Terry was quickly approaching the van that started to move and drag Veronica's struggling form, a sharp glint nearly blinded Brent, and a piercing scream filled the air.

"GO!GO!GO!" The masked man yelled to the driver of the white man. Veronica went limp as their speed picked up, but Terry was in hot pursuit even as the man still tried to pull Veronica's limp form in the van.

Terry rammed the rental car at about 20 miles per hour into the van and caused it to fish tail. Her body fell with a harsh slap, blood pooling around her and the van corrected itself and squealed as it drove off.

Brent, followed by a huffing Maria, rounded the corner and saw the van sway as it righted itself and disappeared down the road. Maria covered her mouth with shaken fingers, "Oh no!"

They ran up to the limp body, rolled over Veronica's still form, and saw the knife sticking out right over her heart. Her lips were blue, cuts lined her face, and a nasty welt was forming on her head. Maria turned frantic, and Terry called 911. Mark had to pull Maria back knowing that removing the knife could be worse for the small girl.

A small sense of dread and guilt fell over the group as sirens distantly became louder.

"Fuck man, that's a ton of blood," Mark whispered to Terry. Maria visibly shrunk further into herself and Brent squatted to pat her arm gently. "It'll be ok."

"This is my fault," she whispered over and over, now rocking back and forth. Maria whimpered, on her knees now held in place by Mark, "She warned me this would happen. We have to do something to hide her."

"We are kind of obvious," Mark added.

Terry snickered, "not really. We don't look like this at all." He seemed to think for a moment, "I know people. But you have to get this girl under control if we are going to do what I am going to do. Got it?"

Terry looked to each one of them, "we take her in as one of us. Her name changes. Everything. It's obvious they are gunning to end a witness and it won't stop. She said there were more kids…So we stop it for her. We…I can get her pronounced dead at the hospital, but everyone has to do their part. NO more fighting. You in Brent?"

"Yeah," he added surely. "Everyone is in."

Terry knew first hand that this would get complicated. They'd all been in a similar situation since they were young, he having found both Mark and Maria, in pretty bad situations themselves. If Veronica's story was true, this ran deeper than they'd ever contemplated going. The Band had played in Neptune many times before. it was plagued with scandal at every turn.

Yet, despite that, something nagged at him.

Some things were worth it. He hoped they didn't look like the band out here, nor their real selves. But he'd secured them all new names much the way he was going to do for her. For one girl to take on all she had, for the sake of others...he could get that. Everything else was just destiny...