Hello Everybody!

Behold! I give you Part 2!

Fuuuuuu I had to make myself sit down and write this. I tried multiple times, but I ended up getting sidetracked with more parts to this that I had never intended to write. Guh, I'm all out of sequence. Remember that dream Hanna has in Part I? That gets expounded upon - just not here. But you've already read Part I. On to the next installment, shall we?

Disclaimer still applies.


Escape from Crucifixus – Part II

She couldn't remember ever seeing the moon so clearly before. The sky was just so…pure.

Back home, (not home anymore, she reminded herself bitterly) the stars and heavenly bodies were all but blotted out entirely by neon lights and bright, flashing billboards. She allowed herself a deep lungful of air. She could breathe! Even after she had learned the truth about her "sickness" she could never inhale properly. The air had been too full of toxins; acrid, pungent smoke from the body pits – the smell of rot and burning flesh. No wonder everyone wore gas masks.

But here!

This city was so different, so strange. And even as she and her protector, her provider, her friend, ran for their lives, she couldn't help but look on in wonder at the so-very-different scenery. Well, she had wanted to see the world, hadn't she? She blinked up at the deep, midnight blue of the night sky. It almost made her forget the hell she and Graverobber had just gone through to get there.

Crucifixus was surrounded by nothing but graves and water, nearly impossible to leave ever since the ferries had stopped running because of the spread of the plague. Or, at least, according to Graverobber. She herself had never seen the water before, let alone anything akin to a ferry. But then again, there were many things she had never seen before. Luckily, her scruffy, drug-dealing companion had contacts; a "friend" of a "friend" of a costumer, who just so happened to know of someone who could smuggle them out…for a fee.

Graverobber had given up almost his entire supply of Zydrate – only slightly begrudgingly – to get them to the safety of an out-of-city-bound body truck. They had only been able to go as far as an outlying burg. That would have been a good start if said burg hadn't also been under the rule of GeneCo's iron grasp. Had he been able to, 'Rob' (as she had come to call him in her mind) could have pilfered more Z from the corpses in the truck with them, and then sold it in the town to get them some more money for traveling. Unfortunately, he was out of equipment and no one was willing to buy for fear of retribution from Amber's new law.

So they had been stuck for a little while. Rob showed her how to find shelter in the gutters and dumpsters, and she in turn was able to go out and steal bits of food and even a blanket or two. Her small frame and nimble fingers from years of delicately pinning insects into cases had made her extraordinarily adept at palming things. She had even managed to pick someone's pocket and then dash away before anyone noticed. She didn't dare try that again.

It took a week for them to find a way out. A week of hiding nervously and praying that no one recognized "that Wallace girl" from the infamous Genetic Opera. A week of huddling together under too-thin blankets and Graverobber's dirty old coat. That week brought them closer together than they ever thought they could get. That week, he had taken to calling her "Sis" more often than "Kid." He said it was for disguise purposes. She knew better.

Finally, finally, they were able to hitch a ride to the next town over. From there they just went by foot. The going was rough and there weren't that many places to stop and rest, but somehow they managed to make it to what appeared to be a state boarder. The farther away they got, the less influence GeneCo seemed to have. In fact, after that first outlying town they had stopped seeing it altogether.

Just to be safe, Groverobber had decided they would go one more city over and then plan their next move. She agreed. She would follow him anywhere.

And so she had followed him here, to this city where the moon shone like a pearl hung in the sky and the stars were more than just dirty pinpricks of something off-color on the smoke-riddled horizon. The air was breathable, the streets less crowded, and best of all, there was no GeneCo. None. Not even a logo stuck onto a lamppost. This city wasn't filthy and crumbling. It was alive. She almost couldn't wait to see it in the daylight.

That being said, they needed to find somewhere to stop for the night; preferably somewhere not out in the open. She may have liked this city, but that certainly didn't mean that she was ready to be exposed to its elements just yet. Dawn was still hours away and it was starting to get a little bit chilly. She rubbed at her arms discretely – she didn't want Rob worrying about her body temperature right now when they had other things to focus on.

At first she thought maybe he had noticed because she felt his hand upon her shoulder, but then she realized that he was steering her towards an alleyway.

"There's a dumpster at the back. You hide while I go scout around and if nothing else, we'll just spend the night there." He walked her over to it, helping boost her up and over the side with a hand under her foot. Once she was safely inside, he grabbed the plastic lid and pulled it down. The drug dealer flashed her a toothy half-grin and a wink before the top came down completely, leaving her in relative darkness with a muffled "sit tight, Kid," filtering through the rusted metal walls.

With nothing else to do but wait for her companion to return with news, she tucked her legs up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them to keep herself warm. At least she was out of the wind and it didn't really smell too bad where she was. She calmly rested her chin on her knees. She would wait. She had all the time in the world right now.


It was probably around ten o' clock, ten-thirty or so – eleven at the very latest – when the pair of them finally headed home for the night. There had been a job, (the first one in months) and, quite frankly, it was a wonder that his employer hadn't collapsed from exhaustion by now. The taller of the two counted himself rather lucky that he didn't need to sleep, because he was sure that Hanna would be out for a day or so afterwards. Long enough for the both of them.

It didn't help that the redhead hadn't been sleeping all that well for the past couple of weeks. Almost every night since he had had that nightmare, he had been jumpy; his dreams dark and foreboding and Galahad suspected he was too afraid of reliving the nightmare to get any sort of rest.

But yes, the job. Concentrate on the job (sort of) well done.

Despite the aching body, the fatigue, and the drained magical energy, all on Hanna's part, things had gone pretty well. No one was gravely injured – just beat-up and bruised – and the paranormal shenanigans had been quelled with a decent amount of success. There wasn't even any major property damage…although that broken window was most certainly coming out of their pay. All in all, he was relatively pleased with the way everything had turned out. Now, his friend needed sleep and an aspirin. Maybe two.

It was while that same friend was voicing similar thoughts aloud to him, not paying attention to much else around them, that they nearly missed the movement in the alleyway to their right. There was a near-silent curse and something 'tink!'-ed to the ground; rolling towards them and coming to rest against the side of Hanna's battered sneaker.

He glanced down. There, lying innocently on the sidewalk below was a little glass vial. Normally, this would not have been important. What caught his attention, however, was the neon-blue glow that poured forth from within the depths of said vial. What on Earth?

Apparently the glowing substance had attracted Hanna's attention as well. He watched in curiosity as the younger man bent downwards and reached for the vial in a kind of trance-like state. He picked it up between his thumb and forefinger, bringing up close to his face to study it. He was engulfed in eerie blue light. For a full minute, the ginger just stared at the thing in his hand. He didn't move, didn't speak, didn't even blink. In fact, his eyes seemed to widen in either recognition or hypnosis, Galahad wasn't sure which.

He was getting slightly worried, too. He opened his mouth to speak, to snap his partner out of his stupor, when a shadow stepped quietly out of the alley. The zombie's eyes shot up immediately, watching the newcomer warily. Instinctively his body shifted to put himself between Hanna and any possible threat. As the stranger took another step in their direction, he scanned the figure briefly – no visible weapons – and then allowed himself to observe more closely.

It was a man, he decided. Tall, medium build, moved with a cocky yet cautious gait. Suspicious all around. The man stopped just in the mouth of the alleyway, only partially illuminated by the dying streetlamp overhead. From what could be seen, he was dressed in a long, dirty coat, baggy pants, and a loose-fitting, dust-covered shirt. His face was pale, even in the gritty yellow light, and he looked to have dark circles under his eyes. Long dreadlocks and strips of random colors hung about his shoulders, which were hunched almost defensively.

But it was his dark eyes, focused only on Hanna, that made Galahad's undead skin prickle. He felt his muscles tighten, ready to spring into action if need be. From his peripheral vision, he caught his roommate's gaze flicking from the glowing blue vial to the man in the alley. At least part of his attention was torn away from the object in his hand…

The stranger's lips curled upwards into a half-smirk. His head tilted to the side as he continued to stare at the shorter investigator. He gave a low, vaguely amused chuckle. "First hit's free…"

Drug dealer, his mind screamed. He ventured a look down to Hanna. The redhead was biting his lower lip, eyes locked once again on the vial, on the cyan light, and the dead man saw his fingers tighten just a fraction on the glass. His breathing had quickened, too. Worried for his friend's safety and not at all comfortable with either the dealer's presence or his product, whatever it may have been, Galahad placed his hand on his shoulder; squeezing sharply and giving the shorter man a shake. "Hanna."

Immediately, those midnight-colored orbs blinked back to reality, their dreamy, dazed quality evaporating. The ginger glanced over at the green hand on his shoulder, then fixed his gaze back on the figure in front of them. "No, thanks." He stretched out his arm, handing the apparent drug back to its seller. "I kicked the habit years ago."

The man tilted his head the other way, one brow raised. He waggled the vial weakly between his fingers. "You…know what this is." It was both a statement and a question, almost as if he knew but didn't really believe.

Galahad looked from one to the other without moving his head. Did Hanna know what that was?

The investigator just nodded slowly. "Better than I should."

The stranger opened his mouth to reply but a muted clatter in the alley behind him diverted his attention and he whipped around to face the cause of the sound. He swore under his breath. "Shilo…" Then he was dashing away, back into the shadows and the gloom of the alley, without a second glance behind him.

As they watched him disappear, the zombie assumed that that was the end of it all. That they could just head home. He was surprised, though by that point he really shouldn't have been, when his employer tugged on the sleeve of his coat and nodded at the passageway before them.

"We should follow him."

He was about to point out that the man was obviously a criminal of some sort and that it really was not their problem what befell him, but he never got the chance to. The shorter man was already walking stiffly in after the drug dealer, face stern.

Galahad made a mental note to add that to his list of things that Hanna needed to explain. It only took him two or three steps to catch up to the redhead, his long legs giving him that extra length in stride.

This was turning out to be a very long night, indeed.


I would just like to say that, one day while I was only half-way finished with this, I spotted a Missing Person flyer that read "Hannah Wallace" and mentioned that she was about 5-foot-something and had blue eyes. I'm sorry, but my first thought was Dear lord! Did Hanna and Shilo have a love-child? I'm a horrible person…

Originally this chapter went on a lot longer, but I decided to chop it in half and make a Part 3. It was going to stop there. Annnd then the plot bunnies took over my skull and I wrote three more. Keep an eye out for Parts 0, 0.2, and 0.3. Who knows? There might even be others after that! Peace!

Musical Muses:

NickleBack – Just to Get High

Repo! The Genetic Opera Soundtrack - Infected