The Citadel towered above all other buildings in Refuge. Not as wide or bulky as the Vulcan Industries workshops, but it stood taller by far, like a sword erected right in the center of the Administration District. During the right time of day its shadow could stretch all the way to the Buffer. At the top floor resided the councilor's office. Seemed only right for the overseer of the city could look down on the city itself in all its glory.

Exquisite art bedecked the office, well-fitting a man of Colton Moss' wealth though his tastes were so wide ranging they could be said to be random. There were sculptures from Atlas, paintings from Mistral, gemstones from Vacuo, plus flowers and drapery from Vale. The gaudy room looked as if all four kingdoms threw up in it. A museum of miscellaneous baubles. None served any functional purpose. Not even the gem embedded dagger that was displayed on the councilor's desk. The blade hadn't even tasted paper much less blood.

Sunset dyed the sky a crimson orange. The light shined through the office's large windows, spackling the room in its warm glow. Councilor Moss paced around his desk, outlining an illusionary box he no doubt imagined himself trapped in. This preoccupied him for almost an hour. Ira Glass lounged on a guest chair before the desk, drawing on her pipe. She could've stopped his manic pacing at any time by uttering a single word, but she was content to let the man ware himself out.

Councilor Moss stopped behind his desk and slammed both hands down. "You said you would take care of it!"

"And I will." she blew out fumes and watched them float to the ceiling.

"You find this amusing do you? They rioted against us. Drove out the entire garrison and claimed the Buffer for themselves! And here you sit. Not a care in the world. What have you done besides suck on that pipe?"

"I've taken precautions." She replied.

"Precautions? City Guard fled from the Buffer battered and bruised. During tourist season, no less!" Moss squeezed his head between his hands. "People are already beginning to talk. I'm getting asked questions that I don't know how to answer."

"That's all it is…talk. It was an oddity for one day. The people's interest will wane and so will the questions. No one cares for long."

"We need to do something."

Glass leaned forward in her chair. "When a pest flies in your face, you don't swat at it. You wait. Let it settle on your skin. When it thinks it's about to suck you dry…" She slapped the table, knocking over its decorations and startling the councilor. "Patience is paramount. I'm having that oaf, Webb, along with his guard from the Buffer questioned as we speak. Mr. Teal has assured me that by tomorrow morning, no one will even remember why they even cared. For now, just smile and feign ignorance. Shouldn't be too hard for you."

Clementine stood in the middle of the warehouse surrounded by nothing but air. He had been there for hours, thinking. His concerns floated all around him, invisible until he shone a light on them. Like dust in sunbeams. Runt on the other hand had gone from warehouse to warehouse, verifying all that was reported. He returned more than dismayed. Not long after his return Buckets and Kiera arrived. Their footsteps echoed throughout the empty warehouse.

"You cleared it out already?" asked Buckets with unwavering optimism.

"We found it this way." Said Runt, the somber in his voice enough even to give Buckets pause.

Kiera's jaw dropped, "As in empty?"

"We checked them all, but had no luck." Clementine found it hard to look at them. The defeat drained the energy from their faces. This was his plan. He talked them all into it. They fought for this and achieved nothing but vacant warehouses. "It would appear we have been anticipated. Naz sent some of his more discreet Mudslingers into the Craft District to ask around. According to the workers, they've been secretly emptying out the warehouses every night for days now."

Kiera growled in frustration, "We took too long. Gave them too much time to prepare. We should've attacked from the second Sned confessed."

"How would they even know we would come?" asked Buckets.

Clementine had considered that already. "They must've caught Sned before he could get through the Buffer."

Runt pounded his fist into the warehouse wall, leaving a dent the size of Clementine's head. "You never should've let him go!"

"What? Should I have let you murder him in front of everybody?"

"Unlike you, huh? I saw your face. Don't deny it. You were going to kill that commander in cold blood."

"I'm not denying it." said Clementine, unperturbed by the vehemence of Runt's voice, "Yes, he was the X on my map. I've tracked his movements, learned his name, where he lived, where he ate, what he liked to do in his free time. Finally, I got my chance. I could've ended Webb then and there. No one would've noticed if you didn't make a scene. His death would've been an unforeseen accident. One that wouldn't infect anyone else with any feelings of guilt or doubt."

"How can you say that?"

"Webb took away my only chance to save my sister. He deserved to die."

"You wouldn't have stood a chance to begin with!"

Clementine faltered, his retort stuck in his throat. Runt's admission wretched with more emotion than Clementine understood. It shook him to his core. Before either could say another word, Buckets moved between the two of them.

"Enough!" he cried, "I did not watch my friends fight each other earlier just to see the same thing happen again. The situation is as it is. There's no changing that. We have the Buffer, but not the supplies we hoped. We've lost some leverage there, but we will deal with it. The important thing now is holding on to what we got."

Runt backed off and hid his face in one large hand. "I'm sorry." He muffled through his palm. Runt peered at Clementine through the gaps in-between his fingers. Even then Clementine could still spot it. That look Runt always cast his way. There was something between them for a long time now, but Clementine had no clue what. The man loathed the sight of him. As if simply glancing his way was painful.

"I'm sorry." Runt fled the warehouse even as he spoke those words.

Clementine thought about going after him, but his body refused to move. He had been locked in place. His thoughts surrounded him, clouding his mind. Too much to comprehend.

"Buckets is right." voiced Kiera, breaking the silence that followed Runt's flight. "We've got to prepare."

Clementine struggled to get his tongue moving once again. "The Mudslingers have volunteered to be our first line of defense. They've taken up residence in the barracks here. I've set them up with strict patrols and posts to keep watch over day and night. We should expect some kind of retaliation soon and the Buffer will be the first thing they hit."

"How can we trust the Mudslingers?"

Buckets looked offended by Kiera's doubt. "Have they not proven themselves already?"

"Sure, they may be on our side but they can be just as dangerous to us. What if they decide to get a little payback? Maybe loot a few workshops in the Craft District or jump some guard on patrol? They could make things far worse than they already are."

"Kiera's right." Agreed Clementine, "Why do you think I failed to name Colton Moss as our enemy? Didn't want to give them a target. And without Runt there to maintain discipline…"

"Naz will take care of things." Said Buckets. When both Clementine and Kiera gave him dubious looks he continued. "Don't underestimate him. Even without Runt there he will do what needs to be done."

Clementine hesitated a moment before nodding his approval and taking his leave. He hurried out, his mind racing. What Runt said repeated in his mind over and over. Never stood a chance. Never stood a chance.

Clementine left them, somehow making the empty warehouse feel even more hollow. "Those two…" drawled Kiera, "Keep too much to themselves."

"Are we any different? Was only hours ago when we even broached our own pasts." Buckets sighed and stared at the floor. "It's been a trying day. Hasn't it? But, despite the setbacks it's been a successful day. Why don't we celebrate?"

"What about the Buffer?"

"I wouldn't stress over it. The Mudslingers can handle themselves. Not like there will be any trouble. Not this quickly, anyway. Empty warehouses or not, we've struck a blow today. I imagine they'll still be reeling in recovery."

"You really think we can rely on them?"

"I trust Naz." Said Buckets without any hesitation.

"The bully who hardly a week ago assaulted Greenberg's school? Who stole books from children?"

"They're a mean bunch, I'll give you that. But just misguided." He paused to consider a moment, "Most don't choose that life. Its chosen for them by need and desperation. Naz for example…even when he was young he had to work twice as hard as most other boys his age. His mother was sick, you see. He had to fend for them both. If that means ditching Greenberg's classes, then so be it. Thieve and steal from your neighbors? Very well. Anything to survive. I expect you understand that. Survival.

"Naz needed help but was to pigheaded to ask for it. So, he lashed out to take what most would've given him regardless. He fell into the wrong crowd all in an attempt to get more. More for his mother. More for himself. Now imagine the thing that keeps you going, the one person your whole life revolves around. Imagine one day she is taken from you in a great fire."

Kiera's gaze fell to the flat cold floor. She knew Naz's mom perished in the fire, but beyond that she knew little of the Mudslinger and what little she did know came from their brief encounters. Kiera had clashed with Naz more than any other Mudslinger. The brute didn't stand a chance against her and yet he never shied away from a fight. Kiera admired that part of him, stupid as it was. Naz would never run no matter the danger posed against him. He'd just stare it down with that flat faced sneer of his. Despite it being her self-appointed job to watch over the troublemakers of this district it seemed Buckets knew more about them then she did.

"Where did you hear of this?" asked Kiera, curiously.

"You learn a lot, you know…living with a man with no one else to talk to. Coll has told me many stories from the days before we arrived. The time before the fire."

"We're all of them that sad?"

"For the most part." Buckets' smile faded, "Tell me, have you ever heard the tale of the giant and the gardener?"

Getting past the Buffer was easy. After all, he set up the patrol schedules. Past the Mudslingers Clementine found no City Guard waiting in the Craft District. Too early for that. He imagined Councilman Moss was busy readjusting to the events of the day. Plans were being made, orders given, and pieces moved. The councilor was a smart man to have anticipated their taking of the Buffer. That was troubling. Too many mysteries laid ahead. Clementine had hoped to shed some light on them judging by the contents of the warehouses. His hope was snuffed.

Moving through the Craft District, Clementine slipped into the streets of Refuge. During the day, all it took was a simple glance at his feet to expose him. However, in the cover of night he was just another shadow. He roamed free.

The Flower District was an array of colors. Each building glowed with its own radiance, attracting people like moths to a flame. However, if one were to look at the Flower District with a bird's eye view they'd notice one black spot amongst the radiance. Just one ramshackle of a building as out of place as a stereo in a library. The worn paint that decorated the exterior of the World Theatre was washed out by the rest of the district. Its marquee above the entrance flickered to an end long ago. The only hint that the building was even occupied was the small amount of light coming from the lobby. Clementine skirted around the building, heading towards the back entrance. Two women, stood by the door sharing a smoke and gossip. Stepping out into the light, Clementine approached them.

"You made it!" shouted Merri a bright smile on her face.

Clementine allowed himself a smile, "Not too late I hope?"

"You've made it, but by the skin of your teeth." Monnie flicked away her cigarette and looked Clementine up and down. "This won't do. Merri, go inside and fix him a basin of water to wash this crap off."

"On it." Merri rushed inside.

When she was gone Monnie stepped back. "Heard some rumors today about some sort of conflict brewing in the Buffer."

Clementine shrugged innocently, "I've heard the same thing on my way here."

"I suppose you don't know anything about that, then?"

"What does it matter?" He tried moving past her, but she blocked his way.

"If it affects you, then it matters to us." She brushed hair out of his face, her fingers tracing the scar around his eye. "If anything else were to happen to you...I can't stand the thought. If things are changing-" whatever she was going to say caught in her throat. "I just want you to know, you will always have a place here. With us."

He took her hand and gently pushed it away. "I'll be fine. Monnie, please. There's nothing to worry about. Things are under control."

"Why do I doubt that?"

"Because you know I'm a good liar." Clementine shared a smile with Monnie, "Too many performances."

Monnie chewed her lip in consideration, "Don't talk to Merri about this. She won't understand."

"I'm just here for the concert, Monnie. And to see you of course. Along with Merri and Spool."

"And Adriane?"

"She hates me."

"Ah," she smiled as if she knew the secrets to the universe. "I see why you would think so. What will you be playing then?"

"Whatever we're missing."

"Georgie, our violinist hasn't shown up. He's probably drunk at the brothels again I'd wager."

"Violin will do."

"I'll go fetch a spare. You better hurry and get ready."

"Thanks, Monnie." The two entered the theatre together but split off in different directions.

Only a handful of stagehands scurried about backstage. All the performers were currently on stage. By the sound of it the improv was reaching its end. Clementine hurried, pushing his way through the folds of costume racks. Past them were the dressing rooms. Though in reality they weren't even rooms, just setups for each performer arranged like office cubicles except the walls were sheets hanging on clothes lines. Some even had laundry dangling from the rope. There weren't that many sheet cubicles left. After all these years the number of performers appropriately matched the size of the audience.

Clementine only came to the theatre once a week if at all, this didn't stop him from leaving things here. His space was filled with items he's picked up over the years. Trinkets left behind by past performers. Pieces of costumes that were no longer used. Anything that lost its purpose eventually found itself either pinned to Clementine's mirror or on his dresser. He didn't mind leaving it all here out in the open. Their theft would cause him no harm.

Merri had already lit his lamp, leaving the matches at its base. Perched on his stool was a freshly prepared a tub of water, which he used to rinse his face and hair clean of grime. After that he placed the tub on the floor so he could do the same to his feet. Once finished he quickly dried himself with a towel and began undressing. He balled his shirt and pants and tossed them into the tub, leaving them to soak.

A mannequin's bust displayed the only other outfit he wore. Clementine slipped his arms into the sleeves of a white dress shirt so spotless it could be mistaken for new. He buttoned all but the top three and tucked the shirt into the slacks. Both shirt and pants sleeves were neatly rolled into folds just past the joints. At last he threw on a violet vest. The purple fabric matched the dark shade of his eyes. Patterns of black lace embroidery decorated the hem of the waistcoat. Hearing the footsteps of the performers leaving the stage followed by a measly applause, Clementine turned. He paused upon seeing Adriane just five strides away.

She stood watching him, her manager's clipboard pressed against her hip. "Didn't expect you to show."

"How long were you standing there?"

If anything, Adriane had grown more intimidating over the years. Her face had lost its plump baby fat and had matured into sharp features. Her long golden hair was cut short and fell like limp spikes over her bluish green eyes. She traded in the denim overalls for a deep blue velvet suit. An outfit fitting her new position as stage manager. She pursed her plain lips, "You're requested on stage."

"Better get going then." Adriane didn't move, forcing Clementine to inch around her. As soon as he did he quickly broke into a fast walk. Not looking back. He stopped just offstage where Monnie and Merri were waiting for him with a spare violin.

"It's not in great shape, but at least its properly tuned." said Monnie as she handed him the secondhand instrument. Merri began touching up Clementine's hair, but Monnie slapped her hands away. "There's no time woman, he's beautiful as is. Now go on. Spool's waiting."

The audience had begun murmuring to themselves. The stage light made it hard to spot them, but the voices numbered in the single digits. On stage came the soft sound of shuffling music sheets and rearranging of stands. "Break a leg." Whispered Merri when Clementine stepped onto the stage, taking his place in the first row just in front of the conductor's podium.

The orchestra was riddled with holes. More than half the chairs were empty. They were lucky enough to have just one of each instrument. The conductor, Spool, stood hunched over the podium. His gentle eyes locked with Clementine's. The old man smiled in recognition and held up his hands. Just like that everyone went silent.

Runt had no destination in mind. He just kept walking. His strides long and fast paced as to not give anyone any impressions that he wished to talk. Had anyone did call out to him, he didn't hear. Like a horse with blinders he shut everything out and kept going forward. He cut a straight line through the Mud District, passing abandoned homes and empty streets each one more unstable than the last. He stopped just an arm's reach away from the Spine. Refuge's natural defense. Nearly as tall as a mountain. It's straight cliff face stretched all around the city, widening out as it went like one half of an oval. Both Refuge and the glades outside its gates were encompassed by the Spine.

This far deep into the Mud District minor sinkholes were as common as a sneeze. The place was more like a swamp. Nothing remained motionless long enough to solidify. Standing still, Runt could feel himself slowly sinking into the mud. Millimeter by millimeter. It's a miracle the Mud District hasn't been swallowed whole yet.

"Who's there?" The sudden voice made Runt jump. He turned to see a bent backed old woman a few steps away. Her face bore deep wrinkles that creased her face like a crunched-up paper bag. What was left of her hair was an ashen gray. Her eyelids were shut and her gaze drifted sightlessly, waiting for a reply. "Well? Answer me, won't you?"

Runt shook himself, "My name is Runt Braun."

"Tysa's Runt? Ha! Thought you were a woman by the sound of your steps. You're light footed for a giant."

"You knew my mother?" asked Runt, his voice suddenly dry.

"Sure. Knew the whole Braun family. How many of you did she have?" she sucked on her finger as she thought. "Five? No, you make six. Six…Haha! I don't know how Tysa managed bringing six of you titans into the world. Just one is a feat in itself, but six?! BueHahaha…Your mother was something else."

Runt studied her more closely. It was a nostalgic face. One in which every feature was begging for recognition. The furrowed brow. The gap ridden teeth. It was the permanently shut eyes that triggered his memory. "Blind Shan…haven't seen you around in years."

"Then who's the blind one, eh?" she hacked a laugh, "From what I've heard you've been out of the loop for some time. Until recently of course. I'm too old for all that drama. It's a young woman's game. Tried convincing Old Gran of that, but the hag won't listen to me. So be it, I said. I'll be the smart one and stay out here where no one can find me."

"But I found you."

"Correction, it was I who found you. So, tell me Runt Braun. What brings you here?"

"I don't know." He admitted.

"Liar. You know. You made the choice to come here of all places." She smacked her split lips with her tongue. "If you're not going to tell me, then at least tell yourself why. Being lost out in the world is one thing." She tapped on her head with one gnarled finger. "Being lost in here is an entirely different state of being. Trust me."

A silence passed between them. Deep down Runt hoped she would just leave but that didn't happen. She stared at him. Right in the face. Those closed eyes seemed to glimpse his soul. He sighed, "How much do you know about what's happening?"

"I'm old, son. Not dead."

"I think we just started a war."

"One you don't think you can win?" she asked.

"I don't know. That's not what bothers me. It's the fact that no one seems to care why. Clementine doesn't. His only answer is to strike back, wait for their reply and plan for the next move as if it were a game. He's orchestrated the whole thing. Propped me up like a beacon. Everyone looks to me now and I can't look back and have them see a face with no answers. I am at the lead, but I am not the leader."

"You and young Clementine, huh? Now there is an odd pair if I do say so myself. There is a knot of hate wrapped tight around that boy's soul. And is it any wonder? You remember, I'm the one who carried him back. You know as well as I what that guard did to him. It's a miracle he was even able to walk again. Whatever conflict you have with him, know that you two look in different directions. Young Clementine looks out into the city, but his sight goes far beyond that. You look inwards leading you directly…here." She placed a hand on the solid rock face of the Spine. "I believe you're drawn to this place, same as I."

"And what reason is that?"

"I'm still unsure. I lack the sensitivities to discern the truth. But perhaps you might fare better." She reached out, taking his arm. Her skin was as soft and delicate as paper. She guided his hand to the cliff face and gently pressed his palm against the rock surface.

"What am I supposed to be looking for?"

She wagged a finger at him. "Don't look when there is nothing to see. Feel it out. Let it see you instead."

Runt chuckled, "You're insane."

"Not at all. Just got lost more than most. But I always find my way back."

Wondering at her meaning, Runt closed his eyes and focused. His semblance had been running out of control all day since the riot. Amplifying unwanted noise, deafening voices. It fluctuated with his growing unease. And yet strangely, in this place with a mad woman, his semblance was honed to a point. As easily as one might lower the volume on the radio Runt dialed back the outside noise to nothing. He narrowed his cone of sound with the origin at his palm. A mud brown glow radiated from his hand, the manifestation of his aura. All he found was silence. Nothing but the still fortitude of rock. Still he searched, groping for meaning in the darkest of places. Nothing but silence. Nothing but-

He flinched back, removing his hand from the rock as if it burned. He stumbled backwards, clasping hands over his ears.

"I don't understand." His own voice sounded strange to him. Distant and alien.

Blind Shan removed her hand from the rock and stared at it. "Neither do I. All I get is tremors vibrating through…Like rats stuck inside a wall."

"It's more than that," he breathed, "Muffled pads of feet. The sharp clang of metal against rock piercing through everything else…" he lowered his hands and stared at the Spine as if seeing it for the first time in his life. "People are burrowing through there."