Author's Note: Hello everyone! I just wanted to let you all know that for the rest of March I will be busy with finals for college, so you probably won't see another update until April. My goal is to post Chapter 9 on April 1.

This chapter is dedicated to Glitter, Viceroy, and to everyone who continues to stay the course with me on this journey! Thank you for the encouragement!

Chapter 8: The Price of Pride

At first, there was only darkness. A warm glow pulsated within her, the soft heat spreading through her whole body, wrapping her in a familiar embrace that was completely Bob. It was unlike anything she had every experienced.

The world exploded in light.

Images flashed before her, so real in their intensity she could feel everything as if she was right there. For the briefest moment, she thought she had gone through a portal to another system. The places were unknown, the faces unfamiliar, but she experienced the strangest sensations that alerted her to the lack of reality; the emotions rolling forth were not her own. Companionship, fear, panic, despair, hope, guilt, and everything else Bob experienced during his time in the prison.

She was living Bob's memories.

Unable to stop the steady stream, Dot quickly became familiar with the crew who had gone from enslavers to companions. She suffered with him in that User-forsaken place, unable to do anything but watch the events unfold before her as she witnessed first hand the dark secrets Bob had tried to keep…

/

It had been two minutes since they had been taken prisoner from The Escape. Of the 21 crew members arrested, nine remained alive: Blackadder, Bob, Cooky, Clunk, Dolby, Numbloc, Scrolloc, Patch, and Tower. Now they were a part of thousands of lost sprites, many of whom had been innocent… until the horrors of the jail hardened their hearts and their hides. The screams of the tortured and insane alone were enough to drive sprites mad.

Here there were no prisoners, only slaves, tasked with expanding the jail and mining the rare jewels that were hidden deep within the rock upon which Villanova was built. Most of the milliseconds were spent in the yards, or the designated work fields for each prisoner. Finding large quantities of the precious stones meant better rations or time off, and sprites willingly killed each other if the opportunity presented itself for such rewards.

Trinkets weren't the only thing fought over. Little food was provided, enough to survive, but many inmates fought and deleted for the chance at more energy. Scrolloc was among those killed for a piece of donut bread, his body fading before his crew mates even knew what was happening. The guards observed the whole incident from the walkways above, doing nothing.

Dressed from head to toe in dark green leather garb, a utility belt on the waist and their faces hidden by black face plates on their dark green helmets, the guards were a silent brute force of authority. Their duties bordered on boring, and to entertain themselves they instigated fights among the prisoners to see who would win. Some inmates mistook their lackluster enthusiasm for a weakness to exploit, and rushed them for the opportunity to escape. Such challenges ended in slow deletion. Upon their belts the guards kept magnetic batons. A quick tap was enough to stun an inmate into second thoughts.

Prolonged contact resulted in complete defragmentation.

Clunk had attempted to relieve one of the guards of his baton. After rendering the guard unconscious with a shove through a wall, the large sprite reached for the fallen baton as more guards arrived to quell the brawl. As soon as he touched the baton, the magnet sent a surge through him, causing his arm to spasm and preventing him from dropping the deadly weapon. He quickly began fading as his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the floor.

The guards stood around and laughed. Only when other inmates tried to help him did they intervene, ensuring Clunk would delete from his own foolish actions. Once his body erased, the closest guard reached down to the ground with a gloved hand to retrieve the fallen baton, laughing as he and the others walked away.

It had taken all of Patch's strength to hold back Bob. His Guardian protocol having kicked into overdrive, he was ready to take on all of the guards himself to help the suffering sprite. Too many of the crew had died, and Bob had had enough.

Locked in their cell for the night, Bob paced restlessly. "We can't wait any longer. We have to do something now or there's going to be no one left!"

Patch watched the undercover Guardian move back and forth across the small cell from the bottom bunk bed while Backup snored loudly from the top. "Acting rashly will only get more sprites killed."

"Hanging around isn't doing us any better, is it?" Bob snapped.

"Protecting others isn't your format anymore, Interface," Patch drawled.

Bob winced. To hide his Guardian protocol, the crew had agreed upon the lie that Bob was a Net linguist named Interface who served as the primary communicator with the systems they ported. None of the other inmates took interest in Bob's make believe background, and the guards couldn't care less what the prisoners called each other, but the crew had taken the lie seriously to protect one they considered their own.

And Bob was going out of his mind being unable to protect them.

"What in the Net is Blackadder waiting for?" Bob fumed. "He said he knew someone who broke out of here. Why isn't he trying to do the same?"

"Because it's not as simple as walking out the door. You have to get through to the Warden."

Bob stopped mid stride, turning around to look at the medic. "Who?"

"The head sprite who runs this place, a woman as beautiful as she is crazy. Most sprites here die without ever knowing she exists. The captain has been trying for the past minute to get to her."

Bob shook his head. "He hasn't been successful yet, what makes you think anything will be different any other second?" Bob started pacing again. "No, there has to be another way."

"And there is." Bob turned his head towards the bars. From down the hallway, Blackadder's distinct tone cut into the conversation in the fluctuating pitches of the strange dialect Bob had recently discovered: WebSpeak. Created by sprites too degraded by the Web's atmosphere to speak through normal means, the language symbolized deformity and low status, and therefore was not spoken by the guards.

Mercenaries were another story. Blackadder and Patch began conversing as often as possible in the language of the Web to avoid being overheard by the guards. With Patch's help, Bob was quickly becoming fluent.

"You have a plan?" Patch asked.

"Yes."

The medic and Guardian looked outside the cell door as something landed nearby. Bob reached through the woven metal and retrieved a small black leather ball with a hefty center. Bob unwrapped the bundle to reveal a large unrefined ruby surrounded by a thick strip of leather.

"By the User!" Bob muttered.

Patch whistled. "Wow, that's a beauty. How did you get that?"

"Kindred folk in high places," Blackadder's voice drifted back. "That should be enough to bribe my way into an audience with her."

Bob frowned. "Bribe a guard? Yeah, right. You've seen how these sprites operate, if they want something, they'll just take it. There're not going to bargain with you."

"Trust me on this one, Interface," Blackadder replied. "I know what I'm doing."

Bob looked at Patch, who nodded in reply. "And what happens if you do make it to her?"

"All I need is a nano in her quarters. If everything goes as planned, come tomorrow night, my contact will be able to get the doors unlocked and get access to the guard's private quarters. Get everyone outfitted and we'll go from there."

"That seems pretty sketchy."

"Well, if you want something more concrete, why don't you start digging a hole in the floor and we'll escape sometime in the next 10 hours?" the red sprite responded sarcastically.

"Yeah, right."

/

The plan had worked, so far. Blackadder had approached a lone guard while in the yards, exchanged the jewel, and was escorted away from the mining zone beyond the eyes of his watchful crew. Now, back in their cells for the night, the moments were tense for the crew as they relied on Blackadder's unknown contact to hold up his end of the plan. As the silence dragged on, Bob became uneasy. The lack of control was unnerving him, and his mind clicked through all of the variables that could go wrong.

"For a Guardian, you get pretty nervous."

Bob glared at Patch from his spot on the cell floor. "Anxious. I'm anxious," he whispered back. He looked back at the door. "I hate waiting."

"Then wrestle Backup or something. Your fidgeting is making me nervous."

"Wrestle Patch, Backup is sleeping," the white sprite mumbled from the top bunk.

Bob rolled his eyes and stood. He walked over to the door, looking through the bars for something, anything. All he got was a dark quiet hallway. Sighing, he crossed his arms and leaned against the cold metal. "There's something I don't get."

"What's that?"

"Why are we being so stealthy about this? The number of inmates to guards is 100 to 1, at least. If Blackadder's contact can break us out, why not the whole prison? The guards wouldn't be able to handle all of them. We could slip out in the confusion." He turned to look at Patch as he sat up on his bunk. "This whole plan of sneaking the few of us out in guard uniforms is complicated, and the more complex the plan, the more things can go wrong."

"We can rush the guards all day long, but we'd never get back out into the Web."

"Why?"

"The Warden keeps possession of a set of keys with embedded codes that release the transports from the docking bays. Trying to tamper with the locks can set off internal self destruct mechanisms that will blow the transports, destroying any chance of making it to the Web." Patch brought his legs up on the edge of the bed, leaning back into the wall. "That is why there are so few guards. Even if a wide scale break happens, without those keys, no one's going anywhere, and they know that. We have the advantage that we know that, too."

"Great," Bob muttered. "So, Blackadder thinks he can get one of these keys?"

"Yes. Then his contact gets us out of the cells, and we make our way to the transport as quickly as possible. Without any unwanted attention."

"And if this mystery sprite doesn't come through?"

Beep.

The door swung open silently on its hinges.

Bob glanced at Patch, who returned his stare with a shrug. "Guess that answers that question." Reaching up, Patch tapped Backup who quickly climbed down.

Quietly, the three headed out into the dim hallway. Patch rounded up the others, and Bob stood ahead of the group, ready to strike. Patch snuck up on his right.

"At the end of the hall, we take the stairs up to the right. That leads us to the guard quarters," Patch whispered. "We take out who's there, switch suits, get Blackadder, and head for the docking area."

"Let's do it," The Guardian grinned. "Stay frosty."

/

Present Second…

The normal activity of the War Room had finally returned, but it was a strained atmosphere. After the departure of not only the mysterious sprite from the Web, but of the Commander and Guardian as well, no one knew what to do. Mouse had looked around at the shocked faces of the sprites and binomes, knowing her expression closely mirrored the rest.

Then, as if the User had pressed the 'play' button, everyone became reanimated again, quickly jumping to the tasks Dot assigned. Phong took Enzo to find the communicators, AndrAIa began scanning the system Saugus for information on their energy readings and population, and Mouse paired up with Specky to review holes in their current security measures.

Only Matrix seemed stuck in pause. Massive arms crossed over his chest, the young renegade stared straight ahead at nothing, a scowl deepening on his face with each passing nano. AndrAIa called his name several times before he seemed to come back to himself. Giving one glance towards Dot's office, he turned to his companion and set to work with her.

With Specky's aid, Mouse was quickly able to download multiple defense applications from parts of the Net that were still Daemon free, and adding her own personal touch, Mainframe's security was beefing up nicely. She was about to begin programming some extra firewalls to launch in the event of a total system breech when she heard footsteps from behind. Turning, the hacker observed Mainframe's Guardian walking through the War Room towards the doors leading out of the Principal Office.

Her mouth opened to call him when she noticed Matrix walking after him. She paused, glancing over to AndrAIa who also stopped in her preparations for the launch to system Saugus. The two female sprites came to a silent agreement to let the boys have a moment alone.

"Continue loading those firewall measures as backups in the system," Mouse ordered the spectacled binome while walking over to the game sprite. Looking over her shoulder, Mouse observed AndrAIa's plan of attack. "What have you got so far?" she asked.

"We need to move quickly into the system but we don't want to draw attention," AndrAIa began. "With our Net port operational, it would be best for us to use that to port into system Saugus. We'll figure out where the system stands on defenses, see if we can set up some kind of allegiance with them, and try to build up a network with the other infection free systems."

"If you take the Net port, we'll need to keep it open for your return," Mouse pointed out. "If you can get in, so can others."

"We should close the Net port, instead having Bob make a portal for us to come back through."

"With his new "powers," is that something he'll be able to…" Mouse trailed off as her ears picked up on a loud noise coming from the hallway.

"…made a mistake…"

"…rest of us paid for it!"

Mouse looked back at AndrAIa. The game sprite had her attention locked on the double doors leading out of the War Room through the Principal Office. Like her aquatic friend, Mouse could faintly hear the argument taking place in the hall. As if of one mind, both sprites moved quickly for the doors, walking through to witness Bob reprimanding Matrix while the renegade looked ready to deck the shorter Guardian.

"…little sprite anymore, Bob!"

"Then act like it, Matrix! Your sister gave you an order to help another system, so obey your code and do it!"

"Everything all right, Sugars?" Mouse asked lightly, even though her heart felt like it was at the bottom of her feet. They already had enough problems to face, fighting amongst each other was the last thing Mainframe needed.

"Yes, Mouse, we're fine." Bob's even tone did little to hide the tightness in his throat.

AndrAIa shifted next to her. "Matrix? I need help with securing transportation in system Saugus."

A tense moment passed between the two men, and with a final soft remark from Matrix, the renegade followed AndrAIa back into the War Room. Mouse stepped further into the hall. "Are you sure you're ok, Sugar?"

Bob sighed. "For now." His brown eyes locked on hers. "I'm going up to the ship. Can you run things until Dot wakes up?"

Mouse frowned. "Is she all right?"

"Yes, she's just resting," Bob reassured her, though something in his tone sounded off. "Just… keep an eye on things for now… and make sure he's okay."

Mouse nodded. She understood perfectly. "You take care of yourself up there."

As he disappeared around the corner, Mouse shook her head. As much as she wanted to help him, she knew this was a battle he had to fight alone. She prayed to any User who would listen for these constant struggles to come to an end, the sooner the better.

/

Past-Villanova…

"This is bad. This is very bad."

Bob watched Patch and Tower at the control consoles, now dressed as Villanova guards, frantically attempting to regain control of the stolen vessel.

After having freed Blackadder from his cell and confirming he obtained the transport key, through means he refused to indulge, the crew began slipping down in pairs to transport 4-9B. While Tower and Patch began powering up the shuttle for departure to the Web, Blackadder retreated back into the prison to retrieve his contact.

Ten nanos later, Bob was amazed and horrified to meet Commodore, Blackadder's contact… and a Web degraded sprite. Though they had told Bob about the damages of the Web, had explained how the degradation brought about the language of WebSpeak, he hadn't expected the terrible disfigurement. Commodore proved it was possible to survive exposure in the Web… if you could afford the price.

Degraded sprites were considered to be less than intelligent and were put in positions of servitude that usually required brute work outside of the yards. The ingrained belief of stupidity allowed the Web sprites to observe and learn many things about the guards without being detected. However, the guards didn't underestimate the power of "stupidity" in large numbers, so strictly kept the degraded sprites away from each other. This ultimately proved smart as the degraded sprites had a knack for being un-Userly strong. Commodore used this strength to break into one of the prison's power grids to manipulate the locks.

The crew accepted the damaged sprite like he was one of their own. Bob watched carefully from a distance. After hearing Blackadder's brief explanation, Bob felt a knot form in his stomach. Something didn't jive for him, and he realized Blackadder never explained how they managed to meet in the first place. But the red sprite had kept a lot of secrets, so maybe it was nothing.

All in all, everything had gone as smooth as a Dot's Diner energy shake. While inside the prison, not a single guard questioned the disguised sprites as the seven prisoners walked freely among them. When departing the pier, no alarms sounded as the transport key released the vessel from the dock, and no explosives were launched at them as they made their way toward the Level 9 tear that would provide them access to the Web.

Utilizing the ship's Web portal tool, they simply needed to fire the energy beam onto the tear, form the portal, fly through and never look back.

The beam fired. Nothing happened.

Then they got caught in a retrieval tractor beam, the engines now straining against its pull.

Things were quickly going downhill.

"Patch?" Blackadder questioned.

"I don't know!" The medic's fingers flew over the console, reading various streams of binary data, attempting the portal again while Tower used the thrusters to break free of the beam. Patch pressed the button again, and a second shot fired, but the yellow beam appeared to simply dissolve around the tear.

"Something's blocking it," Bob mused as he stared at the tear. Patch's fingers hesitated for a moment while examining the bright blue energy. He scanned the data again, the room becoming silent as Patch and Tower tried to fix the problem.

Tower turned to Blackadder. "I'm giving her as much juice as I can, but it's not enough to get us loos-"

"That… bitch!" All hands turned to stare at the normally docile medic as he slammed his fist against the console. He spun around to Blackadder and Bob, his eyes ablaze. "She set up a security shield around the tear! Without the codes, we're stuck!"

Before anyone could comment, the vessel shuddered as it came to a sudden halt. Nearly everyone was yanked off their feet as the transport began to move backwards, returning to the prison.

"Cursors!" Blackadder spat.

"I take it this didn't happen before?" Bob remarked.

Blackadder simply stared at him for a moment before shouting at Tower. "Weapons report!" The red sprite glared out the window as the tear drifted from sight. "I'm not going back without a fight."

"We have three battery cannons, but they are not fully charged. We'll have enough energy for about two bursts per gun," Tower replied.

"Dolby, Cooky, Numbloc, you three take the guns. Try and take out the power grids." He turned to the remaining sprites, standing by with grim faces as they pulled their side arms to the ready. "The rest of you, we need to keep them as far from us as possible. Take out as many as you can before they enter the transport. Go for the clean kill."

"We're gonna need other ammunition, boss," Clunk spoke up. "We've only got stun rounds."

"What?" Blackadder seethed. "Who in the Dell came up with that bright idea?"

"I did."

Blackadder turned his gold eyes on the Guardian, glaring daggers. "You did? I would expect such a distinguished member of the SuperComputer to have better sense than that!" he spat.

"There is never any sense in killing," Bob countered hotly. "We can get out of here without useless deletion. Trust me; I've been in much worse spots than this."

"We're now going to have every guard in the prison coming down on us! We have only 6 energy bursts and a handful of stun rounds to avoid recapture, and all you can say is 'trust me'?" he snarled.

Bob squared his shoulders, refusing to back down. "Yes."

Any further words were cut off by a loud voice that echoed through the transport. "Cease and desist all further activities. Your vessel has been reprogrammed to auto function."

Bob and Blackadder looked over as Patch and Tower cried out when a surge of electricity arced from the consoles onto their hands.

"Damn! Self protection software!" Patch hissed, holding his burnt hand. He looked to the red sprite, uncertainty in his eyes.

"They don't know how many we have or how well we're armed," Blackadder pressed. "We can rush them and take control of their weapons, get another ship, and get one of the guards to give us the access codes for the tear."

"That's crazy!" Bob exclaimed. "You do that, and you're sending your men to deletion! We're outnumbered; we won't survive more than a few nanos!"

"We won't live much longer if we surrender. They'll erase us as soon as the transport is clear!"

"Are you sure?" Bob challenged. The flicker of hesitation in the captain's eyes was all he needed. "Exactly. I'm going to talk with them. You all wait here."

"You?" Patch asked sharply. "What do you think you can do?"

"I'm going to make the Warden a deal."

"With what? You have nothing to offer!"

"Backdoor access to the SuperComputer."

"Are you insane?" Patch grabbed Bob by his collar and pulled his face close. "You're going to give a slave driver access to the largest interconnection of systems known to sprites? She'll go on a damn shopping spree!"

"Not if what you said is true," Bob nodded at Blackadder. "If there's some kind of sickness spreading there, I doubt she's going to get very far. Plus," Bob added with one finger raised, "I have my own means of alerting the Guardian Collective to an unauthorized entry."

"And what about the rest of us?" Tower asked.

Bob looked around at the others as they stared at him. "If everything goes right, you'll be heading home."

"Not without you!" Patch denied.

"Don't worry about me, I can take care of myself," Bob dismissed with a shrug. He looked back at the red sprite. "But you need to take your crew and get as far away from here as you can. This won't work if you get caught again."

Blackadder stared at him for a long moment. "You really expect me to trust you?"

Bob frowned at him. "You still don't believe me?"

"Give me your word you'll do everything you can to save my crew."

Bob nodded slowly. "I swear."

The transport jolted to a stop. Again, the voice echoed through the ship's communication system. "You are surrounded and will be erased if you resist. Remove all weaponry and exit the transport with your hands up."

Everyone looked over at the door as it opened. Huddled on the control deck, none of the crew members could see the guards, and no one appeared to be approaching.

"Bob." The blue sprite turned back to Patch as the medic spoke his name softly. "If you tell them you're a Guardian, and the Warden refuses your offer… you're going to live to regret it."

Bob smiled, placing a reassuring hand on the older sprite's shoulder. "Relax. This will be as easy as Pi squared." Standing, he handed over his stun gun and the magnetic baton from his belt. With a sure smile and no shortness of confidence in his voice, he said, "Hang tight, this'll just take a nano." Raising his hands in the air, he poked his head around the corner of the door.

"All right!" he shouted. "I'm coming out! I'm unarmed!" He scanned the three rows of guards at the end of the docking bay, all aiming various types of firing weapons at the door. Glancing up around the roof of the prison, he spotted several more snipers.

A firefight definitely would not end well.

Slowly stepping through the open door way, Bob walked onto the concrete pier and moved about a meter from the transport.

From the rows ahead of him, a guard shouted, "Get down on your knees!"

"All right," Bob soothed as he did so, "Look, I'm complying! No arguments from me!"

"Silence! Where are the rest? I want everyone out of the transport, now!"

"They'll come out when I tell them," Bob replied quickly, "But I want to speak with the Warden first!"

A small burst of concrete exploded in front of him, Bob flinching away as some dust flew up in his face from the blast.

"I said silence! You are in no position to make demands!"

"We are in position to blow this entire docking bay if I can't speak with the Warden," Bob lied. "We are willing to do anything to avoid recapture, and we'll take all of you with us!" Some of the guards seemed to fidget at this and Bob pressed. "Come on now, you're housing numerous ruthless criminals, you don't think we'd have a little insurance?"

The silence stretched on for an eternity if for a moment, and Bob began to fear his bluff wasn't going to work. 'Uh oh.' "We are willing to delete for freedom," Bob shouted forcefully. "Are you?"

"That won't be necessary," a soft voice said from beside him. Bob turned his head to see pair of black boots standing on two black metal plates connected by a silver rod, the Villanova version of a zipboard. Above the boots, a long black cloak swished around a small figure whose face remained hidden in the folds of the hood. The figure moved closer, gliding quietly down to the dock and hovering to the right of the kneeling Guardian.

The low voice continued, distinctly feminine and full of quiet power. "You wanted to speak with me?"

Bob cleared his throat, his eyes shifting carefully between the masked guest and the armed guards. "I want to make a deal."

A melodious laugh was her response, her cloak rippling with the quakes of her body. "A deal? Prisoners don't make good deals."

"Guardians don't make good prisoners."

The laugh died away. "Guardians?" She glided around behind him. "You are a Guardian?"

"Yes." Bob waited, watching her from the corner of his eye.

She hovered for a moment in silence. "Interesting. And tell me, Guardian, what exactly are you trying to bargain?"

"Release the sprites in the transport, and I'll give you a way into the SuperComputer."

"I am not a virus, Hero," the soft voice sharpened. "I have no desire for such power." She moved closer, her voice dropping. "All those saviors could be bad business for me."

"You need systems for workers," Bob argued. "The SuperComputer has access to all systems. You could have your pick, and no security measure would be able to stop you."

Slowly, she drifted back around to the right of him, always from behind, never blocking the prisoner from the line of fire. "You would risk the enslavement of countless other sprites… to save a few you know here? Doesn't sound very Guardian-like."

Bob winced. She was good. "I gave my word," he answered simply, unable to think of anything else that would sound as honest.

"And what is in it for you?" she asked after a pause.

"For me?"

"If I spare your sprites, and you give me access to unlimited systems… what happens to you? Do I get to keep you for my own amusement?"

Despite the warm tones of her voice, Bob felt a chill run through him. "I want the chance to return home," Bob answered quietly.

"Ah." The cloaked sprite moved away, turning her back on him. "So, I suppose you expect me to just let you go after I get what I want."

"I expect you to keep your end of the deal… as you expect me to keep mine."

"Hmmm. Trust a Guardian lost in the Web… how did you happen to come here, anyway?" She gestured out towards the Web beyond the atmospheric barrier protecting the prison. "Not many systems to protect out here are there?" she asked in a mocking tone.

"Take the offer, and I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Again, laughter filled the air. "Of course," she snickered. "Everything for a price." She suddenly sped around to his front, crouching down low before him. "And what is the price for lying?"

Bob tilted his head, his eyes furrowing in mild confusion.

"Turn around."

He looked back at the transporter. His heart dropped to his feet. Surrounded by guards on zipboards, arms up in the air, each member of the crew was being escorted down the pier. One by one, they were dropped to their knees, Backup landing next to him.

"You didn't really think it would work, did you?"

Bob looked back at the sprite, still crouched near him, her hood pulled back. She was a breath taking beauty. He stared at her green eyes, as bright with intelligence as beauty. The smile on her face spread slowly, a strand of red hair falling with the tilt of her head.

"No standard uniform, no PID, no keytool. What kind of a fool do you take me for?"

'Dipswitch!' Bob chastised himself. He'd been so sure this would work that he never considered she wouldn't believe him to be a Guardian.

"But," she whispered as she leaned in close, "I was most impressed with your effort." Her eyes roamed his face. "And you are fun to look at."

Bob recoiled inwardly, her affections mirroring those of Hexadecimal. Right now, he would have rather taken his chances with the random virus.

"So I'm going to be generous. You all will be escorted back to your cells and its back to business as usual."

"You won't harm them?" Bob asked, tampering down on the disbelief in his voice.

"I give you my word," she answered over her shoulder, gliding away from him.

Bob glanced at Blackadder and Patch, a shallow grin on his face at the small, if not complete, victory. The set lines of their mouths revealed they did not share his sentiments. His eyes focused back on the Warden when she spoke again.

"Oh, and Hero," she mocked lightly as she turned back to him. "The price for lying?" She raised her arm, a large firearm in her hand, and pointed it as his chest. "Costly."

The weapon cracked in the silence of the second's early hours. The sound reverberated off the walls, echoing out into the atmosphere, closely followed by a low, guttural cry. Soon the air was filled with shouts of anger and despair.

Bob barely noticed. Everything slowed down to a near stop, all sounds drowned out by the echo of the fired weapon. The members of the crew were climbing to their feet, so slowly, too slowly, but they became blurs in the background. Bob's vision was filled with only the wound, bright blue blood seeping through the torn clothes at each struggling breath. His hands shivered as they became slick with blood. His throat burned when the last strains of his cry died on his lips.

Distantly, Bob heard the deadly sprite's parting word. "Pity."

His voice carried over the din. "You promised not to hurt them!"

The Warden's calm eyes locked onto his, drinking in his pain. "I didn't hurt him. I killed him." She left without another word.

Bob stared after her, his hands still pressing into the wound even as Backup's body began fading into deletion. Too soon, he was left kneeling alone, the drying blood the only evidence left of the tall, white sprite…

…and of Bob's failure to keep his word.