Arthur dropped the Doll back to the ground where it spasmed once and lay still. Its blue eyes stared unseeing to the singed ceiling, its mouth parted and dribbling bloody froth. Arthur sighed and reached his hand down gently, brushing closed the blank eyes. Next to him, Francis leaned back on his heels, running a hand through his hair.

"What now? We can't just go back empty-handed," he asked. Arthur glared up at the taller man through his shock of blond hair.

"What, should we bring the body? Yao would love that. It's your bloody fault that we got into this mess. 'No trouble' you said. My ass." Francis puffed up his chest, obviously hurt. They both knew something more was happening here, but Arthur couldn't acknowledge that. He wouldn't let things get out of his control, not after what happened back in MI6. It was easier to have someone to blame. Francis was just about to return with a retort when they heard a stifled cry from outside. Both men jumped to their feet, glancing out the window.

"Matthew," Francis gasped, and they raced down the stairs leaving the bodies sprawled across the floor. They clicked back their safeties as they rushed out the door, searching the dark street for a sign of the boy. Arthur saw the dull glow of a contract ignite across the street, probably Matthew, and signaled for Francis to cross to the opposite corner.

"Whoa, sorry. Didn't see you there," an unknown voice called into the night. But as the glow spread across Matthew, the voice proclaimed, "Oh shit." A second light sparked in the dark. Damn it, another contractor. The glow illuminated a man, no a boy really, backing slowly away from Matthew, who was huddled against the wall. Red light glinted off the boy's glasses. Arthur could hear Matthew whimper as the other boy's Contract lit, both frozen staring at each other. Like as not, Matthew's Contract was near useless. Even if he did go invisible, he was frozen in place. Him and his crippling fear.

Francis cocked back his pistol, trying to aim for the second glow, but they were too close together. Arthur held up his hand, pushing the barrel aside.

"You'll hit Matthew."

Alfred ran, his breath and the pounding of his feet on the pavement beating out a strange taboo. He let his head fall back to the sky, tracing out the red scar on the night. He didn't care where he was going, it didn't matter so long as he was moving. The cold wind blowing between the derelict buildings whipped his face raw and he reveled in it, pushing everything behind him. He started laughing as he ran, turning corner after corner, egged on by the sickly halo of street lamps. A foot in front of the other, he could do that. He was running too fast for air, he imagined, his breath catching in his throat, tripping over the bubbling laughter. He was racing the stars. I'll make it to Hell before you. They're all waiting. Don't worry, I'm coming. I'll be home soon. He laughed harder at that. Going home. Where in the Hell was that anyways? He smashed his eyes shut, blacking out the path of the stars. They couldn't control him, not if he kept on running.

He turned corner after corner, counting footsteps, counting heartbeats. 1,2,3, a happy family. 4,5,6, set fire to the sticks. 7,8,9 no one gets out in time. 10, 11, there is no heaven. His lungs were burning; his throat was raw; he couldn't stop now if he wanted to. He slammed into something solid and bounded off, skidding across the pavement. Whatever he hit gave a squeaking cry and a thump as it too hit the ground.

Alfred opened his eyes to look at a stunned boy across from him who was simultaneously trying to find his thick glasses and motor backwards away from Alfred on his hands. He jammed his glasses onto his round face and gulped down a breath, deciding whether or not to scream again. Apparently, it didn't seem like a good idea, because he just grabbed tighter onto his satchel and tried to curl into a ball. Alfred got shakily to his feet, pushing himself up painfully with his skinned palms. He was jarred back to the present, and was feeling lightheaded.

"Whoa, I'm sorry," he tried to stumble out. "I didn't see you there." There was a soft clicking sound in the night, almost like a gun cocking, and Alfred froze. The boy whimpered and a pale glow flickered around him. "Oh shit," Alfred gasped. Not here too. Not thousands of miles away. Alfred felt the prickle of his contract rising on his skin. They weren't going to take him after all this. Alfred stood, his whole body tense, waiting for the other boy to move. He just stood there, quivering, clutching at his satchel.

Then there was a spark in the night, another Contract bloomed in the dark. Alfred turned, watching a form rise up into the sky, a blond halo whipping around its head. A long trench coat fluttered like wings about its legs. Alfred paused for a second, catching a glimpse of emerald and the telltale pinpricks of red amid the whirling bangs. It held out its hands and Alfred felt an upwards tug. His feet scraped the pavement; he was falling upwards. He heard himself scream.

The ground twisted under him, or did he twist above it, and he was facing down at the street, fifteen feet up in the air.

"Stop screaming," a voice called out, low and exasperated. "You'll call the police over, and I might just get excited and drop you." The floating figure clasped its fingers to its palms and Alfred dropped a foot before being pulled to a stop again. He felt his stomach lurch, looking down at the cracked sidewalk. The other contractor watched him cautiously from down below, still shaking.

"I…I won't. Just put me down." He tried to turn himself around by swinging his arms. It managed to twist him upside down and he flailed, trying to right himself. His glasses slipped off and clattered on the pavement.

"Don't move, contractor. If you ignite your contract I will drop you. Now what are you doing here?"

"I was just passing through and…" he felt another sudden drop and plummeted another few feet.

"Cut the crap. Who do you work for, and why did you kill that Doll?"

"I have no clue what you're talking about. I would love to help, really," he explained as he tried to paddle himself upright, twisting his arms in circles. It just made him swing dangerously side to side. He tried to turn his head right side up to look at the floating figure, who, even at this blurry distance, was obviously exasperated. "Couldn't we continue this discussion on the ground?"

"We're not going to get anything out of him. Just let me shoot him now before he uses that Contract," another voice with a thick slurred accent piped up.

"Oh shut up, you git. We can't just go back empty-handed."

"Yeah, listen to that one," Alfred insisted, pointing at the glowing figure, who seemed to be arguing with his feet. With his Contractor glow around him, Alfred couldn't see anything in the shadows.

"And you shut up too. I can still kill you, you know. It means nothing to me. " The figure pointed a hand at him.

"All I want is to be safe back on the ground. Really, I have nothing to do with this. Just put me down." He was getting dizzy, his head ringing. He squinted, trying to make out the floating form. He thought he saw a smile.

"Fine, as you wish." The figure threw up its hands and Alfred felt a jerk, then he was falling.

Alfred woke to a room covered in rose petals and cigarette smoke. He could also smell the cloying sweetness of what seemed to be pancakes. His stomach heaved and he doubled over coughing. His shoulders jammed painfully into his back and ropes bit into his wrists. He tried to wriggle his hands free, but they were bound tightly behind his back. Where the Hell was his little apartment? Then the pain rushed back into his head and he remembered.

He scanned the room, panicked. Light shone in through strips under broken blinds, casting bars across a bare room. A figure lay draped across a couch against the wall, seemingly asleep. He could hear a soft metallic clang from another room, and a low sizzling. A chair screeched across tile floors and a man stood up from the shadows of the corner. Rose petals drifted off of his lap, shining red in the spotty light. His heels clicked over tiles as he walked across the room towards him. He pulled out a pair of black leather gloves and slipped them on, tugging them down around his wrists and flexing his fingers.

"Who are you?" Alfred gasped as the man walked closer, green eyes shining under thick brows.

"Ah ah now," the man hissed as he leaned over him. "I'm the one who'll be asking the questions here." Alfred gulped uncomfortably, staring up at him. His long bangs brushed against Alfred's forehead, the smell of cigarettes ghosted over his face. Alfred fought to suppress a shudder under those cold eyes. He wrapped a hand around Alfred's neck, jarring his head back on his spine. He pushed on Alfred's throat, flashing a bright smirk. "Now then," he hissed, almost in his ear. "Who do you work for?"

"Arthur," a voice lisped lazily from the couch. "Try to keep the interrogation to a quiet roar will you. My head is killing me." Behind the man, the figure on the couch turned onto his side, long hair falling over his face. The man, presumably Arthur, released the pressure on Alfred's neck suddenly and straightened up with a growl.

"Shut up you drunkard. Is it too much to have a little professional respect?" A wine bottle sailed through the air from the couch as an answer, rattling onto a growing pile on the floor. A trail of red wine dribbled across the tiles like blood.

"Are you CIA or something?" Alfred asked. Arthur turned back around, shoving Alfred's chair over with one foot placed between Alfred's legs until Alfred's head slammed into the wall.

"Do I sound like bloody CIA?" He leaned over, one hand placed against the wall, eyes dark under thick brows.

"Well, no, not really. But, then what do you want from me?"

"What were you doing out there in the middle of the night?"

"I swear. I was just walking along. I wasn't going anywhere. There's nowhere to go. I was just following that star." He tried to point to the window, but winced as his restraints bit into his skin. "Just look for yourself. I've never seen anything like it." Arthur stared down his nose at him for a moment then dropped his foot from between Alfred's legs, sending his chair dropping forwards with a rattling which shook Alfred's teeth in his skull.

He clicked over to the window, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a match from his pocket. The dull red glow illuminated his face. He looked young, younger than Alfred had expected, and wasn't nearly as tall as he seemed when looming over him. He was a slight thing really, barely older than him and much frailer. Barely more than a boy with a scruffy shock of hair. Nothing to be afraid of, right? But a pistol glinted on his hip.

Arthur pushed back the blinds. Behind him, the man on the couch groaned and turned over. Up in the sky, the light burned its way across the sky like an eye weeping blood, etching out a red line in the night.

"Burning," Arthur whispered, clutching the cigarette in his teeth. "The sky is falling." He breathed out deeply and the cigarette glowed into red life. Alfred shivered.

"See. I had nothing to do with your Doll. Really. I was just following that." Arthur turned back around, throwing the room into darkness.

"Why were you chasing after some star?" Alfred shrugged, meeting his gaze.

"I needed something to follow."

Arthur pushed the boy in front of him. Behind him, Francis lounged. The drunkard was probably trying his hardest to stay upright. Matthew cowered behind both of them, eying the strange boy. Arthur paused, pulling open a thick door to a dingy-looking grocers, heralded by the tinkling of the little bell that announced a customer, and pushed the boy inside. He stumbled into a rack of cans and plopped onto the floor.

"Aiya," Arthur heard over the rows of food. A young Chinese man turned the corner, rubbing his hands on the front of his shirt. His long black ponytail flicked over his shoulder angrily. "You break it, you buy it. Oh…you." He looked up at the three of them crowding the doorway. "What is it now?" His dark eyes flicked to the door and the window, looking out into the streets to see if anyone had noticed anything strange. He folded his long hands in his sleeves and looked down at the boy sprawled among the cans, raising an eyebrow. "That doesn't look like a Doll to me." Arthur pulled the boy up with one arm around the ropes tying his hands behind his back.

"The Doll died. We brought a Contractor instead. If you don't want him, Yao, we'll take him somewhere else." Yao motioned exasperatedly with one hand, wide sleeve fluttering through the air.

"Better than nothing. Probably had something to do with that star, no?" He jabbed a finger towards the ceiling. "Dolls have been going crazy across the city. Even the Astrologists at Pandora have been having problems."

"And you know this how?" Francis asked, one hand on his hip. He had picked up a bottle of white wine and was inspecting the label. Yao reached over and plucked it out of his hands.

"Little birds make a lot of chatter." He placed the bottle on a shelf out of reach. "Now what have you brought me?" He leaned over and pulled off the blindfold wrapped around the boy's face. He glared around at them with angry blue eyes. Yao poked and prodded him with long fingers, turning his head from side to side like he was inspecting a horse.

"Hey, watch it will you?" the boy exclaimed as Yao jabbed him in the stomach.

"I guess he'll have to do. The Syndicate won't be happy you know." He turned to Arthur and Francis. "They expect better. None of this half-assed work. I'll just go back and see what they want done with this thing, then I'll take him off your hands."

"Wait, the Syndicate's here?" Francis asked.

"Of course. You don't think they'll just let me deal with you rabid dogs on your own. If I had my own way, I'd never deal with Contractors. They always leave a mess." He waved vaguely at the rubbish on the floor. "Now try not to steal anything." He turned to leave, soft shoes swishing on the floor.

It took all of Arthur's concentration not to go running after him. The Syndicate was this close. One bullet and it would all be over. He'd be free of this shadow empire. He could finally put his past behind him. His fingers itched. But then, as quickly as he'd left, Yao returned, a frown plastered on his face.

"Well, just take him. He's made enough of a mess already." Arthur shoved the boy forwards, but Yao pushed him back.

"No, you're to keep him. The Syndicate is interested in his development."

"We aren't babysitters," Arthur growled.

"I'm not a child. And I'm not some piece of property. Don't I get a say in any of this?" Arthur pulled sharply on his ropes and the boy winced.

"No, no you don't." No, not with the Syndicate. No one has a say in that. The sooner he learned that, the easier it would be. Outside a black car rolled by the store, and Arthur felt the hackles on the back of his neck rise. Someone was watching. His fingers itched. It was so close.

"The Syndicate feels you could do with another member to your team." Arthur snorted at that. Some team. "And you'll need it. You're next assignment is to find information on the falling star. You'll be breaking into the Astrology Department of Pandora."