Chapter 51

The party went on in blissful timelessness. There was dancing, eating, and talking. The journalists took photos and compiled notes to their heart's content. Music shifted as slowly and naturally as the phases of the moon. R&B became classical, which in turn morphed into jazz and rock music. How the musicians were able to change their styles in such a chameleon-like manner was a mystery. How Ruby found the energy to dance to most of the songs was also a head-scratcher.

As she twirled, the folds of her dress flowing around her like red waves, Ruby caught Oswald's eye and waved at him. Smiling softly, he returned the gesture. Yet he soon found himself scanning the crowds again for Edward. From his table, Oswald could see everyone...and yet not the most important guest to him. He had promised to be here, to wear the forest-green suit that Oswald had bought him, and yet he was still absent. Each failed attempt to spot the tall man was like a tiny thorn in Oswald's chest. He sighed, drained another glass of red wine, and dabbed delicately at his mouth with a napkin. As the song faded into silence, a panting Ruby crashed in her chair. Amazingly, she hadn't sweated at all. "Whew," she sighed, "I haven't danced this much since..." She thought about it for a second, the shrugged. "Never."

Oswald chuckled. His hand covered hers. "I'm pleased that you are enjoying yourself."

"Yeah." Ruby smiled, then peered at him. "And you?"

Oswald blinked, caught off guard. "Me, what?"

"Are you having a good time?" Ruby asked. "I mean, you've barely moved from this spot since we took that picture." Her fingers slipped through his and squeezed. "Is something wrong?"

Oswald hesitated. How would Ruby feel if she knew the truth? She would probably be hurt, feeling that her presence was not good enough compared to Edward's. Oswald had already hurt her once; he had no intention of doing so again. He shook his head. "No, dear. I'm fine. Truly."

Ruby was not fully convinced, but nodded anyway. Casually scanning the room, her dark blue eyes suddenly lit up like firecrackers. "Look!" She pointed. Oswald turned to find the doors opening. Two figures walked into the light. One tall and buff, the other short and slender. The Son of Gotham. What would people think if he just so happened to mention that the new mayor had saved him? Twice?

Oswald cracked a smile. "Well," he said, "it'd be rude not to say hello."

With a squeak of delight Ruby jumped to her feet. Grabbing Oswald's hand, she all but plucked him out of his chair. As the spotlights travelled lazily across the dark air, with the music changed genre without missing a beat, Bruce Wayne searched the room for curly blonde hair. Instead, he saw red silk. Smiling a little, he bowed a bit at Ruby, who'd covered her mouth in amazement. "You look so handsome!" She complimented him wholeheartedly. Bruce blushed lightly. Indeed, he had taken particular care in his appearance. With a fine black tuxedo and Armani leather shoes, his hair combed back, he felt that he looked as good as he could. Selina would like it, he hoped. Though he would never admit how much her opinion mattered to him.

Ruby opened her arms. Bruce walked into them. She smelled of rosewater and mint. Warm and inviting, like a mother's embrace. Bruce allowed himself a moment of peace before pulling away. Ruby pushed a stray hair of his back into place as she greeted Alfred, "How's it going?"

"Quite right, miss. Thank ye." He replied kindly. "And how are ya? Bruce told me ye'd been in the hospital."

"Ah," Ruby waved a hand, "it's ancient history at this point, but thanks for your concern." Turning back to Bruce, she winked at him. "Looking for your date?"

Bruce bit his lip. "Maybe. You?"

"No need." Ruby couldn't hide the joy in her grin. "I'm with the man of the hour. Speaking of which..." She stepped aside as Oswald hobbled forth. Shaking both Bruce and Alfred by the hand, he greeted them with all the warmth of a campfire. "This festivity is made all the more fabulous with your presence, Mr. Wayne."

"It was my pleasure." Bruce didn't sound fully certain of that. "I...I never got to thank you for saving my life."

"Duty." Oswald nodded. "I am glad that I was able to help."

"You were." Bruce replied. "I wish you success in all..." He trailed off as his eyes caught sight of something. Oswald turned his head to see the source of Wayne's attention. A little wisp of a girl with a halo of dirty blonde curls. Bruce swallowed, "Excuse me." He slid past them like a shadow, hurrying towards the girl. Alfred was right behind him, ready to interfere should the meeting sour. The moment Selina saw Bruce, her expression shifted. Ruby and Oswald watched it all. She crossed her arms with a chuckle. "Love." Oswald made a slight 'hmm' sound that caught her attention. After a moment, she asked, "Oz? Have you ever..." She paused. "Been in love?"

Oswald frowned. "Why?"

Ruby shrugged. "I know enough about you to fill a book, but you've always been quiet about your social life." She turned slightly to face him. "But if you don't want to talk about it-"

"It's not that." Oswald interjected kindly. "I...I simply never thought about it myself. My mother would attempt to advise me, but..." He shrugged. "I suppose I was simply waiting for the right person." Ruby nodded, words bubbling in her throat. Before she could breathe life into them, she stopped. No. She couldn't. This was Oswald's night. She had no right to complicate it with her feelings. They could talk about it tomorrow...if her courage hadn't left her by then. That was when soft music reached both their sets of ears. The young woman winked at him. "It's a slow song." Oswald nodded, uncertain of her intention.

"Slow enough for a damaged knee?"

Oswald's eyes widened. "No! Ruby-"

Ruby rose from her chair, surprised by his reaction. "It's okay." She reassured him warmly.

"No, Ruby, I've never danced before in my life!" Oswald admitted. "Well, there was that time in Fish's club...but no one else was present."

"Dude, you're the star tonight." Ruby said. "You can't show up at a party for you and not dance. That's like the birthday boy not eating his slice of cake!"

Oswald stared at her, at the earnest kindness in her chinless face, and then at the dancefloor. The lights had dimmed. Couples were making their way to the dancefloor. Hands were joined. Foreheads touched. Sweet romance filled the air like a sweet scent. It was so alien, so unfamiliar, that Oswald choked out, "I can't."

Ruby got down on one knee in front of him. They were at eye-level now. "Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot," she said gently, "will you have this dance with me?"

Oswald's icy-blue shifted from her to the dancefloor again. He looked a bit less scared, but uncertainty was still printed on his angular face. Quickly, before he could change his mind, he dipped his chin in a nod. Ruby smiled. "Come on." Rising, she took both his hands. Guided him through the crowd of peaceful couples. Even through all of his layers, she could feel him shaking. She put a hand on his hunched shoulder. Once they reached an empty spot admist the moving bodies, Ruby faced him. "Okay. It's easy." She assured him. Taking his hands, she placed one on her hip and put her own on his shoulder. "See? Take my hand like this, good. And then just keep your hand there." She grinned. "And then we sway." They did. Oswald's heartbeat picked up the pace. The only thing between him and a panic attack, he felt, was Ruby's encouraging smile.

They danced for a bit then, swaying as they circled. Soft music surrounded them like a warm blanket. Oswald tried to ignore the slight ache in his leg, or the fact that there were about forty people here. He just had to dance. With Ruby. That made it better.

She smiled as though she'd heard his thoughts. "See, it's easy. You've got nothing to worry about. Your mind's faster than a whip." Oswald smiled bashfully as Ruby cocked a brow at him. "Then, if you wanna get fancy, we can 'dance with the stars'. Eh?"

Oswald shook his head fearfully. He could hear the mocking laughter already. As he had countless times.

"Ready?"

"No."

Ruby spun, her hand locked into Oswald's. He held on for dear life. She completed her spin, reassuming the previous position. "And that was the first one."

Oswald chuckled a bit. "This...is fun." As he said this, his fear dwindled somewhat. And with every step they took, it crumbled away even more. Until soon, it was gone. There was just music. Serenity. And a quiet joy.

Butch sighed as he walked away from the party, feeling more than a little guilty. All of this merit, all of this praise...was based on a lie. He couldn't even begin, really, to get away when Nygma's grating voice smacked into him. "There he is, the man of the hour. I have a surprise for you, Butch."

"Not in the mood." Butch tried to walk past the man in green. But all he got was a box tapping his broad chest. Sighing, he stilled his pace. In the semi-lit corridor, far from the luminescence and music of the party, no one could see what was going on. Might as well get this over with. He held up the box. "What's in here?"

"Open it." Nygma invited with a grin.

Gee. It was no wonder Ruby couldn't stand this guy.

Butch half-heartedly opened the 'gift', stuffed his hand in paper, to find cloth. He held it up. A red ski mask. Wow. "Thanks." He tossed it in Nygma's face. To his credit, the beanpole caught it. "I already got one."

"Oh," Nygma said, "of course you do." He held it up for Butch to see. "And you certainly wouldn't need this one, seeing as it's very similar to your own pocket square." He smirked. "This is from the Red Hood crime scene. Turns out, your suit and the Red Hood gang's suits were all made by the same tailor, Mr. Fuji."

Butch felt as though a frozen, skeletal hand had seized his guts. At the same time, anger bubbled within his ribcage like burnt stew. He knew all too well which emotion would prevail. He kept his tone void of sentiment, for now. "That's some coincedence."

"I thought so myself." Nygma's grin widened. "Which is why I called Mr. Fuji and he told me that a large man with a metal hand - not a lot of those running around - bought all six of the suits, which means, ta-da! You're the architect of the Red H-"

Butch's meaty hand curled around Nygma's throat like a boa. Easily, he slammed the thin man against the wall. The soft music was loud enough to muffle it. Butch glared down at the choking man, who was pathetically clinging to the hand like he expected freedom. "I should snap your neck. Right now."

Edward sputtered. "But, you haven't heard my offer."

Butch waited for a beat, then roughly pulled away. Edward took a deep breath, massaging his aching throat. Knowing that he had only a few seconds before the man's anger returned, he spoke quickly. "We kill Penguin together."

Butch laughed. "What're you talkin' about? You're his guy!"

"Oh, please. You fell for that act?" Edward asked. "Yes, he got me out of Arkham. Very appreciative. But I was not cut out to be Number Two. I've simply been waiting for my moment, which you have graciously provided." He stood back, struck a little pose. "How would you like to run Gotham with me?"

Butch chuckled again. "The two of us? Workin' together?"

"You have proven yourself far more cunning than I imagined." Edward replied. "Now, I assume this little drama of yours was going to climax tonight. So," he held up the mask again. "Put on the hood. Kill Penguin. I'll help you escape. Tomorrow, we divide up the city."

Butch stared at him for a long moment. His mind was in a dozen different places at once, but each thought was colored black with suspicion. He stared at this thin, bespeckled man and remembered everything that he'd done: murdered his own girlfriend, chopped up the body and buried it in the woods, framed a cop for a crime he hadn't committed, and tried to poison the little prince of Gotham. He was ruthless, perhaps even more so than Butch. It didn't take a genius to guess what would happen if Butch let him get too close.

He tried one final card. "You'd really turn on him? After all he did for you?"

Edward turned back towards the party. Towards the couple that he'd been observing since the moment he'd spotted them. The slow song finally over, Ruby and Oswald had finished their dance and were retreating to their table. Ruby was grinning and shaking his shoulders. Her lips read, "You did it! I'm so proud of you!" Oswald bumped her shoulder with his, looking as bashful as a teenager, before drawing back Ruby's chair for her. She giggled behind her hand before thanking him and sitting down. It was so sweet that it was giving Edward a toothache.

Well, whatever. Let Sinclair enjoy this moment.

"In a heartbeat." He grinned.

Butch glared at him before spitting out, "No." He was about to move away when a spidery hand rested on his chest.

"Okay," Nygma said, "then I guess it's time for surprise number two."

Two minutes later saw them in the industrial-sized kitchen. Unpleasant company awaited them amongst the stainless steel and gleaming silver. One individual was familiar, smiling coldly and waving.

Butch tried to control his breathing. "You got to Zsaz?"

"I got to Zsaz." Edward confirmed. A thug lumbered into view, dragging a woman along the way. Butch felt like he'd gotten punched in the gut. It was a lovely, slender woman with dark skin and black hair piled high above her head. Silvery eyeshadow matched her glittering dress perfectly. But in that moment, she didn't look beautiful. She didn't look scared, either. She was furious.

"And he got to Tabitha." Edward concluded, grinning like a loon throughout it all. One of the men reached into his jacket's inner pockets and summoned a gun. Without a shred of hesitation he aimed it at Tabitha. "Penguin's history." Edward said. "Question is..." He held out the red mask again, "...are you?"

Oswald stood at the bar, downing a hearty glass of wine. Soon - within the next fifteen minutes, actually - would see him giving a speech. One would have thought that, given the dozens of speeches that he had given both before and after the election, that speaking to a crowd would come naturally to him. Oswald had thought so, too. He had not even prepared his words in advance because the media had praised his improvised speeches above all else. He was certain that tonight would be no different. But he hadn't expected to feel this way tonight.

Flattered and moved, on the surface. But beneath, he felt something much more complicated that he simply could not label.

The dance with Ruby had been nothing short of magical. He had never done something like that in his life, but it had been worth the wait. The way their bodies had gently moved in tune to the music, the warmth of her gaze and hand...even fusing as Cobblair didn't come close. When they were one, he couldn't look at her. In that form, they were not Oswald and Ruby, but someone else entirely, the sum of their parts and more. The physical manifestation of their friendship. But this...there were no words for it.

Oswald dabbed at his mouth. Trying to bottle up these emotions. He did not understand them yet, but he felt that they could cause him to stumble tonight. That simply couldn't do. He had to present a proud image tonight. Sublime. Strong, but elegant. A worthy leader. These feelings would just have to wait.

The distant clack-clack's of high heels on marble caught his attention. Curious, Oswald looked up from his empty glass. He had been certain that all guests had arrived. Honestly, who would risk running late at a party as refined as this? It would be like showing up at the queen's coronation just as the crown rested atop her head. It was an experience to be fully savored, not partially tasted.

Oswald shrugged. Oh, well. Their loss. He might as well greet them so as to show he held no grudge. Well, he did. But they didn't need to know that. Brushing himself off, he limped towards the yawning doors. Each step sent a dull needle in his knee. But the people couldn't see him as a cripple, leaning on a piece of wood. He had to show off how he'd surpassed his physical handicap, without the help of a cane.

At last, the clack-clack's drew close. The shadows parted to reveal their source.

Oswald froze. A man and a woman walked through the doors, each one robed in utter, indisputable finery. The woman's voluptuous figure was sheathed in royal purple. A golden zipper, born between ample breasts, slithered down to just above the knees. Golden bangles hung from the woman's ears and circled her wrists, but her neck was bare. Honey-colored hair was fashioned in large, extravagant curls. Her milk chocolate eyes were framed with mascara, her lips red as rose petals. The man was no worse off. Tall and slender, he had fair hair combed back to reveal a round, catlike face. He wore a black suit, complete with an ebony bow tie and a silken handkerchief in his breast pocket. Both these people had to be in their late forties at best, early fifties at worst. Yet they were doing everything in their power to hide the passage of time.

Oswald felt the spit dry in his mouth as the couple apprached him, smiling with admiration. The man held out his hand. "Mr. Mayor! Good evening." He greeted warmly. "Please excuse our tardiness, but my sister's shoot went on forever."

Oswald made a small, croaking sound.

The woman nodded before offering her hand to him. "Opal Sinclair. And this," she nudged the man with her curvy hip, "fine hunk of meat is my brother, Jasper."

Oh, God.

Oswald finally snapped out of it. Forced a smile as he took Opal's hand and kissed it. "It's a pleasure to meet both of you." He tried to ignore his heart, which was pounding with a violence that almost caused him pain. "Miss...Sinclair, I have seen your image all around the city. You truly are worthy of your namesake."

"Oh, darling," Opal tossed her hair back, "don't I know it."

Jasper rolled his eyes. "Please excuse my sister. She has always been a vain woman."

Opal dropped her jaw in mocking shock. "Oh, you're one to talk, Mr. 'I ordered a bigger mirror for my office'!"

As the siblings shared a laugh, Oswald quickly stole a glance back at the table. Ruby had invited Bruce Wayne over. She was nodding, her expression solemn, as he spoke. Every now and then she interrupted to either ask something or make a comment. The two looked like a pair of siblings catching up over coffee.

She looked so...serene. Content. There was a glow to her that he hadn't seen before. He didn't want it gone.

Oswald turned back to the Sinclair siblings, who were still laughing at their own little joke. Up close, there was so much hidden behind the veil. The close proximity of their bodies. The way he looked at her. The way she brushed her hand over his. It made Oswald's stomach turn. He forced another simper as he spoke, "I, er, am sorry to inform you that we lack the proper number of tables. I fear that the owner, a...friend of mine, miscalculated the number of guests. So, if you would kindly remain here-"

"Oh, nonsense!" Jasper smiled as he slipped past Oswald. "We'll just ask one of the other people to move!"

Oswald blanched. "You, what?"

Jasper gestured first to himself, then to his sister. "We are the Sinclairs! The faces of the fashion industry! Anyone would be glad to make a little room for us, just for the sake of brightening the room." With a laugh he offered his hand. Opal took it. The two made their way towards the party. Towards the buffet table. The lights. The music.

The abandoned daughter.

Oswald tried to hurry after them, but they were both in peak physical form and, from what he could tell, hadn't consumed a drop of alcohol in hours. He, on the other hand...

"Sir! Madame!" He called after them. "Truly, I'm afraid the party is nearing its climax, anyway. Perhaps you should simply fill your pockets and be on your merry way." Opal and Jasper didn't hear a word. They were too busy searching for some unimportant guest to rob of his/her table. Oswald, sweating bullets from head to foot, finally planted himself in front of them. Their expressions were so similiar that it was almost scary. Annoyance. Indignation. Even...disgust. The type of look a rich merchant might wear if, during his daily walk, a homeless man suddenly spouts his need for spare change.

The sound of glass breaking had Oswald's head turning.

Ruby was standing there. A shattered champagne glass was at her feet, the pieces glittering like diamonds. Her entire posture was wooden, her face frozen in shock. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes huge. All color had drained from her chinless face.

Oh, no. Oswald turned back to Opal and Jasper. They were eyeing Ruby with curious, slightly nervous expressions. As if to say, who is this strange girl staring at us? Breathing hard, Oswald abandoned them in favor of his date. As the distance between them shrank, he realized that her eyes were filling with tears. "Oh, Ruby." He took her hand. "You don't have to witness this. I will have them leave."

"Who invited them?" Ruby's voice was a husky whisper. She didn't part her eyes from the two siblings.

"I-I do not know." Oswald admitted. "I swear to you, I did not request their presence." Ruby didn't turn to look at him. She just kept staring. Pieces of skin were beginning to ripple against her bones. "I'll send them away."

Oswald stared at her.

Ruby closed her eyes. A couple of tears ran down her face. "I...want to know. If I've been right all these years or not." She swallowed. "This may be my only chance."

Oswald pressed his lips together. For a moment, he was quiet. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. "No matter what happens, we will still be friends. Remember that."

Ruby returned his stare. Gave the ghost of a smile. "Thank you." She squeezed his hand, inhaled deeply, and stepped before the siblings. Oswald watched as she spoke, calmly yet firmly. Jasper and Opal both laughed in her face, then tried to push past her. Ruby grabbed both their arms, stilling them, before repeating her words. The siblings shared a look before sighing and nodding. Still holding onto them, Ruby began to lead the pair back towards the door. Jasper tried to twist his arm free, to no avail. Growling, he turned back to Oswald. His expression was that of a caged animal, devoid of reason in the face of blind rage. "You'll be hearing from my lawyers." He snarled.

Oswald simply replied, "Look at my face. Do I seem intimidated?"

Scoffing, Jasper turned away. Ruby never looked back or slowed her pace. But even from the lengthening distance, Oswald could see her shoulders shaking.

That was when the lights dimmed, and Barbara grabbed the microphone. Oswald felt his emotions sink beneath the ocean of calm. The moment had come.

The music, lights, and noises faded into the distance. Clapping had erupted since their departure, which could only mean one thing: Oswald's speech was about to commence. Ruby felt immense guilt seep into her like a rain of lead. Not because she was missing it, but because it had drastically lost its importance since...well.

She swallowed so hard it hurt. Looked behind her, where Opal and Jasper were walking side by side. Their noses with raised with indignation, their backs straight as any royal's. Incredible. They had hardly changed since the last time she had seen them...nine years ago. Opal had been heavier, softer. A plus-sized model, in fact. Her skin had been more luminous, her hair resembling silk. But boy, had she done her best to hide it. Her skin had a weird, stretched appearance, as though excess folds had been repeatedly chopped off and the gaps had been sewn shut. Certain parts of her body simply looked...off. Not fully natural. Her hair had clearly been dyed. Her eyes were back to their natural color, it seemed. Once upon a time, she would wear contact lenses of varying colors to show off her flexibility. Now, it seemed her ageing eyes could no longer handle it.

Jasper was no different. His contours spoke of hours spent in the gym and the strictest of diets. The first few liverspots, no larger than fleas, were beginning to appear on his hands. His posture had begun to bend forward like a question mark. There were faint crow's feet near his eyes and lines going down his mouth. His faux tan looked ridiculous, given his hair color: it was a poor imitation of saffron.

They were both getting old. And neither wanted to admit it.

Ruby swallowed hard. "So," she began, "how's the modelling business?"

"I doubt you'd understand, dear," Opal replied, "given your fashion sense. But, in the unlikely chance that you know what I'm talking about, it's going great." She flipped her hair. "According to last week's popularity poll, I'm in the Top Twenties. Lots of people said that I have a beauty that's both exotic and local."

"And of course, my management has helped as well." Jasper piped up. "When I'm not modelling, I'm managing my sister's affairs." He was trying to sound tired, but Ruby heard the smugness behind his words.

Every word that they were saying chipped away at her feeble hope of reconciliation. But she couldn't give up. Not yet. Otherwise, she would live with that doubt until her last day.

She took a deep breath and played her card. "Wow. It sounds like you're both quite successful. Hardly sounds like you would have time for, say, a child."

There was a moment's pause. Cautiously, Ruby grew an eye at the base of her neck. In the dimness, it only looked like a shiny lock of hair. Opal and Jasper shared a nervous glance. It only lasted for a few breaths, but it was there.

"Yes." Opal's tone held a rigidity that it hadn't before. "We really aren't parent material."

"Really?" Ruby said quietly. She turned back at them as the eye sank back under her skin. "Not even if you found available partners as beautiful as you deem yourselves to be? Not even if you considered your love to be perfect, and thus reasoned that the child would be perfect too?"

Jasper cleared his throat. "No. We don't have any children, and we never will."

Ruby stayed quiet for a long time. So much so that Opal and Jasper exchanged curious, slightly anxious glances. Yet they decided not to rock the boat. Rather, they kept their eyes on the path ahead. The corridor that Ruby had taken them down was not the one that they had used. It was built entirely out of glass, from the ceiling to the floor. It was like walking on air, with the entire city just out of reach. Below their feet. Yet far enough to be safe.

Ruby stopped walking. Jasper and Opal did as well, confused. The man cleared his throat before taking a step forward. "Look, Curly Fry. We came a long way, only to be rejected by your pimp, the mayor. You'll all be lucky if we don't complain about it to the Gotham Gazzette. But we're not unreasonable. If you stop dawdling around and show us the fucking exit, then maybe we'll let you off the hook."

For a second, Ruby didn't respond. There were only the angry huffs of Jasper. Then, calmly, she turned to face them. "Don't you recognize me?" Opal frowned, then looked at Jasper. Her brother simply shrugged. In a second, as though gifted with wings instead of feet, Ruby was standing before them. "Have I really changed so much?"

Opal blinked. "What're you talking about?"

Ruby didn't answer. Instead, she nodded. "Yes, I suppose I have changed since our last meeting. I was tied to a wheelchair, being brought to Arkham Asylum. It was nine and a half years ago. March 6th. 6:00 a.m. You," she pointed at Opal, "were wearing scarlet, with a fox-fur scarf around your neck. And you," she gestured to Jasper, "wore a yellow suit, with a purple vest. You had studs in your ears back then."

Jasper and Opal were both still as statues, eyes wide and jaws dropped. Opal was shaking her head in denial while Jasper stared at Ruby as though she were a ghost. Ruby gave a little laugh. "I, on the other hand..." She changed before their eyes. Her hair grew long and lanky, hanging in her eyes. Beneath it, her face bloated like a water balloon, half of her face drooping horribly. Her ears became little more than misshapen scraps of meat. Horrid bruises and sores spread across her body like wildfire. Her fingers became long and crooked, like an old hag's. All muscle mass deflated before their eyes, leaving nothing but disgusting skin covering bare bones. She shrank down to almost half her normal height, the result of a lifetime without sunlight. Her red dress and pink pearls became the soiled rags that they had tossed at her right before locking the door.

But worst of all were her eyes. The scleras darkened to dark red, contrasting the indigo irises.

She looked like a monster. Their monster.

Opal's and Jasper's screams bounced off the glass walls. Drenched in horror and disgust. Recognition was bleeding into their eyes. Opal's knees gave way. Jasper grabbed her by the armpits, hoisting her up, and dragged her towards the exit. Without a second's hesitation he shoved past Ruby. She fell in a slimy pile on the floor. "Get away from us, you freak!" He spat viciously at her as the two of them fled, trying to escape their mistake once again.

Something grabbed them by the ankles. They lunged forward. Fell flat on their bellies, their teeth rattling. Opal and Jasper looked at each other, then down. Another pair of screams tore from their throats. Clasping their ankles in a vice-like grip were four hands. Two were sheathed in red cloth, while the other were bare.

Six feet away, their owner stood in the center of the corridor. In her new, true form.

"I am Ruby Sinclair!" She shouted as tears spilled down her cheeks. "I am your daughter! And you can't ignore me anymore!"