Author's note: Okay, well, I've been really bored lately, so i came up with the brilliant idea- Hey! I should totally write! I'm also going to have to include Las Vegas somewhere, because blue can't fly from Kansas city to Los Angeles and not visit Vegas! Cannot be done. shakes head

And by the way, what the flip does 'Tokay' mean? Because everytime I write 'Okay', spell check tells me that it's spelled tokay. And every time, I go 'wtfbbqbutterbacon'?

I plucked myself up from the ground as the sun began pounding gently on my back. I had long since folded my wings to keep anyone from passing by and freaking out while I dozed in the field.

Brushing stray blades of dried grass from my clothes, I unfolded my wings. If I was a cat, I would seriously have been purring right then. I had forgotten the dreaded memory and had spent a few hours just dreaming, letting the sun dazzle me as I reached in and found long suppressed memories.

Don't get me wrong, most of 'em were of Ditto and I being put through horrible tests and having our skins burned, bruised, and generally battered. I had even come up with a really nasty memory of watching, terrified, as bright violet dye pumped through my veins as the white coats studied my circulation.

But a few of my better memories had survived. Like the time my sister had morphed herself to look just like me, and we had laughed together as an intern tried to figure out which one of us was the one scheduled for the next experiment. Of course, we were severely punished when a more sensible scientist stepped in and ripped a feather from my back and correctly identified me as myself.

I remembered coming up with our nicknames back when we first started talking and addressing each other. Officially, our names were M87340blb (Me) and M87341scn (Ditto). But we had decided early on that we weren't going to humor the scientists and use those names.

"I wanna be Captain Cool!" I whispered excitedly. Though the room was dark, and our cages were about two feet apart, I saw my sister shake her head. M87341scn snorted.

"That's a terrible name." She said, leaning back against the bars of her cage. For such young kids, our vocabulary was great.

I pouted and folded my arms across my chest and we scrutinized each other. It was silent for a time, and then she sighed.

"How about you name me and I name you?" She suggested. I hesitated, and then nodded briefly.

"Alright. Let's see what you've got." I said, and she nodded, suddenly eager.

"Okay, don't laugh, but I've got an idea. You know how your wings are all blue and black and stuff? And your eyes are blue? And they've been training you in that water control thingy?" She began, and I nodded slowly. " Well, what if we called you Blue? It's perfect! It matches practically every aspect of you!"

I pulled a face, but she was staring at me, excited.

"That's terrible! I'm not letting you name me after a color!" I muttered hotly, but she narrowed her eyes.

"Hey. Can it, Blue. I just named you. We agreed to this. Now you can name me." She said coolly, and I nearly flinched. I had been on the wrong end of her anger before, and it sure wasn't pleasant. For a girl, she could sure hit.

"Fine." I muttered, though I promised to bargain for a better name later. "Let's see. About you… You've got blue eyes-"

"Like you." She pointed out, eager to hear her new name.

"Right… and you've got that orange-ish yellow hair-"

"They call it strawberry-blonde."

"Shut up already!" I snapped, and she grinned a bit, twisting a lock of her thick hair around one finger. It really was pretty.

"Now, I could name you Strawberry-"

"Oh, please don't!" She gasped, eyes wide.

"SHUSH! Naw, I won't do that, though. Too mean." I sent her a meaningful look, but she didn't seem to understand it. She must have been sincere about liking the name Blue.

"Well… I heard one of the scientist guys talking yesterday… and they mentioned a word…"

"Yeah?"

"It was ditto."

"Erm… ditto? What does that even mean?" She asked, pressing her face to the bars.

"Well, in the context, it sounded like it means like, 'me too' or something. Like, if I said 'I really like flying', you might say 'me, too', or you might say 'ditto' instead." I explained, and comprehension dawned on her face. Then the confusion was back.

"Cool name, but what does that have to do with me?" She asked, frowning.

"Well…" I spoke slowly. I might lose her here if I didn't explain this right. I always had been pretty good at explaining things to my sister. Usually.

"You can change your appearance, right?" I asked, and she nodded slowly. "Well, if someone were to describe themselves, you could always say 'ditto'. No matter what." I shrugged. It was a weak explanation, but it made more sense in my head.

My sister didn't seem to quite get it.

"Oh. Okay. I do like that as a name, but you'll have to explain it to me when I'm smarter, okay?" She said, and then let loose a yawn.

"Okay." I agreed, and we both stretched out arms out to twine our fingers before bed.

"'Night, Ditto."

"'Night, Blue."

I beamed to myself once more as I coasted, my fourteen-feet wings flapping lightly as I flew to God-knows-where. I honestly had no real plans. I was headed west for no reason at all. Maybe I would stop and try to settle down in LA. That probably wouldn't work though.

The only reason I had been able to live in Kansas City for so long was because I had found a nice little school where there wasn't a whole lot required of me. I was really good at forging signatures and I had a decent range when it came to voices over the phone. I had posed as a rich kid with really strict parents that traveled a lot and trusted me with our big house but wouldn't let anyone come over. A few times, I had had to pay a hobo to pose as my uncle for parent-teacher conferences, but it didn't usually come down to that.

I had acquired money being a street performer on weekends and days off. I flew to the big city to perform in a disguise. I would do random little stunts like spitting and hitting a target from ten feet away (water manipulation came in real handy here) and doing various gymnastics. Like, single-handed handstands or arm-wrestling some of my manlier onlookers and always winning (super-human strength is a lot of fun).

But in LA, I would have to lie low for a while. It was a really big city, and I doubt anyone would forget my little stunt at Cory's house anytime soon. And my yearbook photos were going to be glaring at me from TV screens for months. I resolved to cut my hair, which had gotten shaggy fast. It might even be smart to invest in a box of hair dye for the time being. Can you get over-the-counter color contacts? I decided to look into that, too.

Over the wind, I heard my empty stomach protesting. It must have been pretty freaking loud for me to hear it over the wind in my ears. I tucked my wings closer to me and started to descend towards whatever random city I was over. It was a good-sized town, but it had more suburbs than actual hard-core city.

I looked hard at the ground, and finally spotted a nice dumpster behind a little strip mall. I dropped in an almost perfectly vertical line, the tips of my wings guiding me forward as I fell, I snapped my wings open just below the roofline, so that my multi-hued blue wings wouldn't catch as much attention as they were worth. I hit the ground hard, and had to run so that I didn't do a face plant. I trotted to a halt right next to the bright red dumpster, and looked around as I tucked my wings away inside my jacket.

I was lucky enough to find a half-eaten cheeseburger, two almost-empty boxes of fries, and what looked like a box of chicken fingers. Snarfing the food down, I jogged around to the front of the store. My annoying-as-crap stomach was still growling at me, though it was a more subdued sound than before. I decided that my aching wings deserved a rest. Beaming, I practically waltzed into a nearby Target store. I grabbed a bright red basket and made my way down the aisles in turn, stopping to grab a box of 'blond guy hair dye' and a pair of cheap almost-glasses. My claustrophobia was acting up as I squeezed myself through the aisles full of aimless shoppers and screeching kids.

Reaching the food aisle, I knocked several boxes of granola bars and a package of trail mix into my basket. Absently wondering if I had enough money for my purchase, I made my way to the front, trying to avoid another freak-out like I had had back in Kansas City.

As it turned out, I needed to put back two boxes of granola bars to be able to pay for my stuff. Stupid taxes. If I hadn't had to pay the extra couple of bucks, I could have kept all seven boxes that I had picked up.

I walked out of the store, already halfway through the bag of trail mix. I paused to shrug out of my backpack and deposit my shopping bag into it, effectively doubling the size of my bag.

A sudden screaming made me jump about half a foot into the air. I whipped around to see some guy tearing away from a woman's car with a bright yellow handbag.

With only a second's hesitation, I shot after the guy, willing the lady to shut up already. I was on him in a few moments, and I had the bast- uh, jerk down in ten seconds flat.

Sitting on his back with his thick wrists in my hands, I called for the security guards that had ripped out of the store.

The man beneath me cursed and bucked, and my training instantly kicked it. I dove to wrap my arms around his meaty neck. He rolled us over, and I barely had time to kick the purse out of the guy's grip and towards the police before I was wheezing for breath under the crook's five million pound weight.

I heard a vicious snarl, and something hard came down on my head once. Twice. Three times, and I was seeing stars.

I gasped for air through the thick, sickly sweet blood crusting fast around my nose. I aimed a kick for the guy's groin, and felt the satisfying crack before I heard it. There was a scream, and I wasn't sure where it came from.

I scrambled out from underneath him, my head spinning and feeling like I was gonna barf. Like, for real.

I stared down at the thug, my left eye beginning to close up. He was writing on the ground, screeching in agony. I saw him grabbing at his leg, and I almost scowled. I had aimed for his crotch, and missed. At least I broke something. But I would have been doing the world a favor by making this guy sterile for good.

I staggered away, gripping my head and keeping my good eye on the guy. He was down for the count, and there were several police already gathering around him with handcuffs and tasers. I need to get myself a taser.

I vaguely heard someone yelling, and I mused whether I my ears were actually detached from me or if this was normal after a serious head wound.

Strong arms caught me just as I heard someone cry, "Help that kid!"

I tried lamely to shrug the hands off, but was too weak to even freak out. It didn't occur to me that 'helping that kid out' involved a hospital and trying to contact some form of legal guardian. I just sort of went limp and let them clap cuffs on my wrists as I drifted off to dream about nicknames and separations.