Runt wasn't sure what happened after he collapsed. The next thing he knew he was lying in an unfamiliar bed. A good portion of his legs were dangling off at the end. Somewhere close by water trickled down where it collected into a bowl. Above him someone hummed a sweet tune. Runt's sight was fuzzy as if it were all out of focus. But not her. She was as clear as the sun, bright and shining. Her eyes a light purple like lavender stared into his and all at once Runt forgot the aching pain that seeped through him. Risa swept back her luscious strawberry blonde hair. It's lovely shade a cross of pink and orange. Runt struggled to rise. He outstretched his hand, reaching, but the closer he got, the farther away she became.

The humming faded and Risa was gone. The reminder of her loss was a keen twisting of the dagger in his heart. In her place sat Augustus Clementine. He bore many similar characteristics to his sister, but he was of an entirely different nature. "Your wounds have healed nicely." Commented Clementine, "With your aura restored…Well, they mend even as we speak."

Runt sat up, "Where am I?"

"My home."

Runt's mind rocked like a sailboat behind his forehead. He held a hand over his mouth, feeling as if he were about to be sick. When the nausea passed, he looked up. "How long was I out for?"

"A few days."

"And Sned?"

"Gone." There was no inflection in Clementine's voice. He could've easily been talking about the trash for all Runt could tell.

"Gone?" repeated Runt, "What does that mean?"

"It means exactly that. He is gone. After learning everything I could from him I forced him out of the district. Along with his zealots who took part in the attempted assassinations."

"You exiled him?" gasped Runt, "Who gave you the right?"

"No one gave me the right…I took it for myself. I did what was best. If I didn't then the mob would've had him and after what he confessed I doubt a reasonable trial would've taken place. More blood would've been spilled and that's the last thing we need right now."

Confessed…The memories flooded back to him. Sned's confession. The truth behind the fire. Runt's own outburst and how Clementine stopped him. That quiet determination which laid dormant in his stares were so very similar to Risa's own. Seeing it again doused the fire that burned in that moment's rage. Now all that remained was smoldering ash, the taste thick on his tongue. He couldn't even look up to meet Clementine's words anymore.

"I always hated you." Stated Clementine rather bluntly.

Runt was silent.

After a long moment, Clementine continued. "I fully admit to it. As a kid, you were the force behind all that I despised. The ringleader of the Mudslingers. But of all the bullies and criminals, I hated you most of all because unlike them, you were strong. Naz and the rest had little other options in life, but you could've left. Traveled the Kingdom. Maybe even attended Haven or Sanctum academy and become a huntsman. Yet you stayed for what I assumed was just cowardice. Now I know better. You were protecting us from the very people you led."

"It wasn't easy." Said Runt, "I couldn't stop them completely. I let them play the part of the criminal they believed themselves to be. We stole and we fought. We hurt people. Your hatred for me wasn't entirely unjustified."

"You kept them on a short leash. For the most part, things were tame. After seeing what they're capable of under someone like Sned's leadership…Well, I think the whole district has come to appreciate the old days some more. You were never the coward I thought you were."

You're wrong. Runt wanted to say it but he couldn't find the courage to do so. He supposed that's ironic. Things were quiet for a time. Runt stared down at his hands. Watched as they curled around the blanket, wrapping the fabric in tight creases.

"Can you walk?" asked Clementine, "I want to show you something."

The whole way people stopped and stared at the two of them. A question on their lips, but none brave enough to speak up and ask. It wasn't the right time. Things were too fresh still. After all that's transpired, best to go about like everything was normal. Runt followed Clementine without even bothering to ask where they were going. The large man had been stripped of the stupor he had been hiding in the past six years, leaving his raw emotions bare. Clementine suspected Runt had always been a tender soul, but now he knew the giant wasn't immune to rage. A fire blazed within him. All one had to do was fan the coals and see it spark to life. Clementine was glad. They'd need it for what's to come.

They left the populated section of the district behind and continued deeper. These abandoned streets always seemed such a waste to Clementine. All that space…All that potential to become something more than it was. But a ruin it stayed and so it shall forever as long as people were too afraid to even walk this way. Runt didn't look afraid. Not because he was putting on a brave face, but rather he simply didn't seem to care.

"You sure do love these parts." mused Runt, "The places you shouldn't be. Are we going to your secret hideout? I don't remember it this way."

"Whoever said I just had one secret hideout? But unlike the other you saw, this one is not by my design."

"What does that mean?"

"Easier to show you." He led Runt along the familiar path, winding through lopsided buildings and trudging across thick mud. Inside an alley between two sunken buildings, Clementine shoved aside the old cart that hid the tunnel entrance. "Naz always wondered how I was able to get past the Buffer during the day without being caught. Well, here is the answer. I went under."

Runt knelt at the tunnel mouth. The apathy drained from his face, replaced instead with something reminiscent of dread. "You can't be serious. You made this?"

"No, like I said this wasn't my design."

On all fours, Runt poked his head down into the tunnel. "Well someone dug this out. Look there. See the wooden beams?"

Clementine nodded, "The tunnel's ribs I call them. They lead all the way through in even spacing. They're half rotted now."

"They are probably the only reason it still holds. This leads past the Buffer?"

"Exit springs you up in the heart of the Flower District."

"But that's miles from here. Are you telling me you crawl all that way in the dark?"

"So many times I lost count."

Runt turned to look down the other direction of the tunnel. "And where does this lead?"

"I don't know. Tunnel caved about fifty feet in or so."

Runt stepped back as if afraid he might fall in. "Who else knows about this?"

"Just the two of us."

"How can you be sure? What about the people who made it?"

"There hasn't been any sign of them. They are either dead or left it far behind. Never to return."

Runt retreated to the edge of the alley, his back to him. Clementine thought he might flee like he did before, but Runt stopped himself. His shoulders slumped and his head drooped. "Why are you showing me this?"

"I want you to trust me so that together, we can do what needs to be done."

"And what's that?"

"Don't play dumb." Scolded Clementine, "You're smarter than that. You know what I mean. Before I exiled him, I made Sned tell me everything. The man who gave him the Dust and the guns. His supporter all this time was none other than Colton Moss."

"Is that name supposed to mean something?"

"On paper, he's probably the most powerful man in Refuge. His ass polishes a seat on the Mistral council. A person like that has influence in every branch of government. The courts, the military, you name it. There's no way we can get to him through any legal means. We'll have to fight."

Runt hesitated, "From what you just said it sounds like fighting should be the last thing we do."

"I've crawled for too long. We all have. We've suffered and endured their indifference for years. Now it's clear, they want us gone. The fire…backing someone like Sned…the constant expanding of the Buffer. Don't you see? Moss is trying to squeeze us out. We're like worms to him!" Clementine struggled to maintain his even voice. It took him some time to slow his heart and regain his calm. During that brief interlude Runt didn't say a word. "The question I'm asking-The question everyone else is thinking…What do you want to do about it?"

His question was met unanswered. Runt stood as if he were one of his wooden sculptures, elegantly carved but inanimate. Clementine's words might as well have been pebbles bouncing off the larger man. After a time spent in pensive thought Runt's back straightened. His slumped shoulders rose and he turned to meet Clementine's glare. There it was. Behind his blue eyes a spark flickered off the still smoking coals.

Clementine's home was surrounded by what looked like the entirety of the Mud District's population by the time they returned. The gathering filled the whole street like some parade. Runt and Clementine both halted upon seeing them. Breaking from the horde, Kiera rushed to meet them.

"Where have you two been?" she asked.

"Thinking." Replied Runt.

Clementine sidestepped Kiera. "What's going on here?"

"Couldn't say for sure. People just started gathering. They want-"

"I know what they want." Runt looked to Clementine who gave him a reaffirming nod. Their presence was quickly noticed. A chunk of the crowd shoved its way past and advanced towards the three of them. Mudslingers. All of them. In their lead, hobbled Naz, a freshly carved club in his good hand. He halted about ten feet in front of Runt and immediately dropped to his knees, head lowered. The rest of the Mudslingers followed suit and a hush quieted the district. Naz raised his head and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

"We've done wrong. We know that now. We're not asking for forgiveness. I don't expect it. All we ask is for a chance to prove ourselves in whatever's to come."

Before Runt could even open his mouth to speak voices rang out from the rest of the population. They shouted insults at the kneeling men and women. Mostly complaints about past transgressions. Then the tone shifted to their association with Sned.

"We had no clue about Sned's involvement with the fire!" Bellowed Naz, "If we did we never would've followed him. My mother died that night. In case you all forgotten…" Naz's spiteful glare held on Clementine just for a moment. Runt noted Clementine's dumbstruck expression. Had he not known?

"I would've killed Sned myself, if he were still here." Naz's plain desire for murder didn't help his case. More shouts resounded from the crowd. An outpour of crimes ranging from vandalism to violent muggings. Someone threw a rock that cracked Naz in the temple. He grunted and bled, but accepted the blow. "We have no excuse. Hate us if it makes you feel better. We'll still do what needs to be done."

The bubbling crowd hesitated, but the pause only brought about a relapse in the shouting and hurling of projectiles. What surprised Runt the most was the disappointment in the crowd's incoherent voice. After some thought it made sense. The Mudslingers were very much the Mud District's misfit children. The gathered crowd was comprised of parents. Once family and friends whose relationships were strained due to the Mudslingers' actions. Deep down they didn't care about who stole what or who hit who. With any random outsider, a situation like that would've been dismissed. But that fact that it was their children, neighbors, and friends who did it made all the difference. No wonder they were hurt.

The Mudslingers offered up no defense to the ridicule spat their way. The sympathetic ears out in the crowd such as Kiera and Buckets were outnumbered. Runt was well aware of Clementine's eyes on him, waiting for some kind of response. He bristled. His foot raised in the air like a gavel. It hovered a moment before stomping down in an explosion of mud. The whole street trembled in that shockwave. The gathered district faltered and all eyes fell on him.

"Enough!" shouted Runt, his voice booming. "Why do we fight amongst ourselves? What good does it do us? They came here seeking to end the fight, something I know many of you wished for in the past. But now here they are and you spit in their faces?"

A teen with a bruised face came forward. "How can we just move on after all they did? They tormented us, stole from us, and beat those who resisted. They even trashed Old Gran's garden!"

Clementine's voice moved through the crowd like a cutting breeze. "Moving forward doesn't require you to forget the past, Alfie. But if we are to have a future, then we must focus on the real enemy."

"He's right." Runt stood in front of Naz and the rest who were still on their knees. "Get up and listen. All of you! We are under siege from an unknown enemy. An enemy responsible for the fire that took so many of our loved ones. An enemy responsible for supplying Sned. An enemy who's neglect and mistreatment has consumed our lives here!" Runt clasped his hand on Naz's shoulder, a gesture that brought the smaller man to tears. "We will stand against them, whoever they are. You can spit insults in our direction, throw mud at our backs…you have every right. Or you can help us and change this district for the better. I've given my answer. What will be yours?"

His question shattered any defiance that remained in the crowd. Runt's heart thudded in his chest. He surveyed the mud stained expressions of his district. More than two hundred of them. Men, women, and children all shaken to their foundations. Runt was glad for their shocked states otherwise they might've seen how sweaty he had become. Fingers twitchy. His gaze unable to hold on anything longer than a second. Despite the steal in his tone, he remained uncomfortable in his current position.

Runt found the faces of his friends scattered throughout the street. Old Gran's tears dissolved the mud from her weathered face, making her appear ten years younger. Kiera stood beside Buckets with an arm wrapped around his neck squeezing tightly so that it appeared she had him in a headlock. Both wore childlike grins. Clementine observed the crowd, his face a mask. He tried so hard to hide his emotions, but Runt saw the shimmer in his eyes as he witnessed the crowd's growing resolve. Runt had won their spirits, but it was Clementine's words he borrowed. Right down to a tee. They stirred the district just as Clementine said they would.

Just on the other side of the city, yet in a whole different world, Councilor Colton Moss slept in a bed of silks and plush pillows. The woman sharing his covers laid stone still as if dead, but in truth merely incapacitated from the night's worth of drinking and other narcotic delights. Bright hues strobed in from the window, painting the room in a mix of colors. A harsh banging on the door disturbed Moss' sleep. Groaning, he rolled onto his backside and groped around his nightstand. He threw the first thing he got a grip on at the door, which happened to be an unopened bottle of wine. The glass shattered against the wooden surface, splashing red liquid everywhere.

The knocking stopped and Moss flipped back into bed, his hand unintentionally smacking the woman in the face. She didn't even react. After a few seconds of relieving silence, the door was kicked open, ripping off the engraved framing. Ira Glass strode into the room. Enraged and a little more than embarrassed, Councilor Moss leapt out of bed and haphazardly threw on a robe to cover himself.

"What are you doing you crazy bitch?" he squealed.

"No need to be shy. You wouldn't answer the door." she peaked into the bed. "Be a gentlemen, Moss. Pay the girl and send her on her way."

"Can't. She is out cold for the night."

Ira Glass eyed the bottles and needles tossed about on the brothel floor along with a mess of clothing. "I suppose it takes some sort of courage."

Moss grew red, "What is so important it couldn't wait till tomorrow?"

"Alvaro. Ward." The two bodyguards came marching into the room with a third man dragged between them. They dropped the dirtied, beaten man on the floor before Moss.

"City Guard caught this one and some of his buddies trying to sneak across the Buffer. When brought in for questioning he knew your name. Claimed to be a friend of yours." Ira's white smile vanished into a straight line. "You know this man, Mr. Councilor?"

"Let me see his face." Alvaro knelt, grabbed the man by a tuft of his hair and yanked his head back for the councilor to see. It took him a few seconds to recognize the face through the grime and swollen wounds. "I know him…Why'd you beat him so bad? He's no good to me in this condition."

Ira Glass took out her straight stem wooden pipe and placed it between her teeth. One of her bodyguards, Ward, lit the deep bowl with a match. "He came that way, I'm afraid." She stepped closer to the councilor and blew out rings of fragrant smoke that broke against his face. "You want to explain something to me now."

Moss sneered and dispersed the intoxicating smoke with a few waves of his hand. "This man was doing a job for me."

"A job, huh? Looks like something went wrong."

Moss kneeled so that he was eyelevel with Sned. "What happened?" When Sned didn't respond Moss slapped him. "Answer me."

Sned blinked back into awareness. "I…I tried doing as you asked, Mr. Moss, Sir. Take over the Mud District…for you. But I failed. They drove me out. Exiled me. If I didn't leave they would've killed me, I'm sure of it."

Moss clawed at his patchy beard, "I gave you everything you ever asked for. Everything you possibly needed to succeed. A whole crateful of weapons!"

Ira Glass started at that. "You what?"

Moss held up a hand to her, his eyes never leaving Sned. "Did I not gift you that? Did I not reward you handsomely? I found you. Raised you out of the muck. Is this how you repay my kindness? With failure?" Sned tried to speak, but only garbled nonsense came out. "Why did they let you go? Hmm? What did you tell them?"

The answer was clear in Sned's eyes before he even spoke. "They know the truth about the fire."

Moss grabbed Sned by his ridiculous bathrobe and hefted him up, "And me? Did you tell them about me?"

"No, Mr. Moss, Sir." Stammered Sned, "I never mentioned your name. I would never betray you."

"You're lying." Growled Moss, "I'm a politician, I know how to lie and I know when people are lying to me."

Ira snorted, "I wasn't aware your perception was so honed. We must all look like fools in your eyes."

"Please sir," begged Sned, "I'm telling the truth, honest. Give me another chance. I underestimated some of them. I won't fail you again. Let me return to the Mud District and I'll take it over in just a week. I'll rule it in your name."

"Oh, Sned, you were never meant to rule the Mud District. You were just a means to further drive its citizens to leave the city. Something that wouldn't even be necessary if the fire had gone as planned and burned the place to the ground. I suppose you failed me there as well. That's twice now."

Sned's face broke further than Moss thought possible. "What? Wh-what do you mean?" his voice was like that of a confused child.

Moss addressed the two brutes looming in the doorway. "Take him away." They didn't do as commanded, but instead looked to Ira Glass. Once she nodded her approval Alvaro and Ward dragged Sned away. The stunned brown foot didn't even resist.

Moss retreated to his bed where he plopped down. He never should've entrusted so much to a brown foot. It was a mistake to think Sned was any better than the rest of them. Now they knew his name and what he did. Fear was an unwelcome pressure, one in which Moss couldn't shrug away. Glass watched him sulk while she huffed on her pipe.

"Is there anything else I should know about?"

Moss glared at her for a few moments before turning away once he realized it had no effect. "No."

Glass was silent for a time. "People died in that fire, didn't they?"

Moss wrung his hands together so tight his knuckles turned white. "You'll help me, won't you? Please…" Spitting out the last word was always the hardest for Moss.

"I suppose I'll have to. For all our sakes. I'll see to your mess. In the meantime, Councilor, I suggest you head home and see to your wife. She must be worried sick." On her way out she stopped. "Oh, and my apologies about the door. You know how I love to make an entrance."

The councilor's mistress laid still on the bed, numb to all the lovely silk that covered her naked body like bad gift wrapping. Years of this lifestyle left her rather immune to the flood of narcotics, which would've kept any normal person sedated till morning. She still couldn't move, but she could listen. It's easy enough to feign sleep when you're practically paralyzed. No one pays her much attention anyway. In their minds, she was merely a doll. Something pretty to look at and if you could afford it, play with. So they talk, unmindful of the fact that the doll has ears. Usually it's nothing consequential, but this night she happened to overhear some rather interesting things.

Swearing under his breath Moss tossed her payment on the bed and prepared to leave. She made no move to collect it. The Councilor's ego had been bruised and as she well knew the only repair for that bludgeoning was to inflict it on someone else. Usually it was herself, but in the state she was in there was little fun in it for the councilor. So who then would his victim be? Not his wife for sure, but some poor servant at the Citadel whose luck had abandoned them for the night. The Mistress knew too many men like that. Ones with their silver spoons and bibs. Overgrown children.

This night was not a waste at least. Such secrets revealed. None of it made much sense to her, nor did she much care in the first place. Though she could not deny the satisfaction of hearing Moss being scolded like the child he was. As for everything else that transpired…Well, Mr. Teal will be pleased.