A/N: I got to go horseback riding yesterday, so I was on a horse instead of working on this, which is why it's a day late. Sorry! Luckily, I don't have a long introduction for this one—it picks up exactly where Part 1 left off.

Chapter 3: Stand at the Gate, Part 2

My heart sank as Bard slowed to a jog in front of me, his head swinging desperately from side to side. He let out a long, low whine when I caught up with him and stumbled to a standstill. He was panting heavily, his tongue lolling out between his teeth.

I bent next to him and reached for his mouth. "Let me look." He obediently turned his head and let me lift his upper lip enough for me to see the damage the vial had done to his tongue and gums. While it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, the broken glass had left small, jagged cuts in several places. The good news was that they didn't seem to be bleeding too badly.

I waved my hand in front of his nose. "Can you smell anything?"

His nostrils flared repeatedly as he tested the air; eventually, he gave a sideways jerk of his head. No.

"It was the vial," I said. I put my hand on his head and stroked his fur. "It took away one of your senses. It's probably lucky that it wasn't your sight or hearing."

He seemed more ambivalent about his luck than I was—though, admittedly, his sense of smell would have been helpful in this situation. If we were being ambushed now, we'd only have forewarning if Kane failed to hide in the shadows or to mask his footsteps.

No less relieved that Bard hadn't been hurt worse than he was, I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him a squeeze. "Thanks, Bard. You didn't have to do that."

He whined in response.

Still winded from my sprint, I dropped to a crouch and draped my arms over my knees as I caught my breath. After a moment of recovery, I looked up at Bard, certain he could read the apprehension on my face. "So. Do you know where we are?"

He stared at me for one long moment before sitting back on his haunches and lifting his ears. He held his breath and, slowly, his head swiveled from left to right, like a satellite scanning for a signal. I knew he'd come up empty when he started the whole process over again. Look for something familiar; listen for footsteps, voices, traffic; reach the same conclusion. I pulled out my phone and checked for a signal that wasn't there.

We were stranded.

I let a string of curses hiss out under my breath. Contractors knew we were here, and at least one of them was coming after me. I'd lost the upper hand—quite spectacularly—and the only option now was to retreat. Quickly.

"If we keep the wall to our backs, we'll be fine. We'll make it to Shinjuku."

Bard stood up, looked behind himself, and adjusted his heading according to my suggestion. When that was done, he turned his chocolate eyes to me. Let's go, they said.

"Okay." I hauled myself to my feet and took one last cleansing breath. "Let's hurry."

Without his sense of smell to guide him, Bard was less inclined to take the lead. He trotted at my side, head dropped to the ground to disguise his height, while I stayed low in a running crouch. We paused at every corner, just long enough for him to listen, before pressing onward.

We were running blind, and the oppressive darkness only added to my growing paranoia. The streets were painfully black, painfully unknowable. I kept my gun in my hand. For every step that carried us closer to safety, I feared the next would be the one to bring Kane and his Contractors down upon us.

But it doesn't make sense. Somewhere in the back of my mind—the part that wasn't concentrating on navigating the labyrinth of abandoned streets—I considered the possibility that Kane had been bluffing. Why not attack while I was standing right in front of him? Why let me go? And while I was questioning his motives, I had to wonder why he'd stopped Lyme from coming at me. They never got close enough to touch me. Whose orders—

I saw a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye; the oscillation of a shadow in the void between two freestanding buildings. Bard froze, mirroring me, and stared at the offending space. The hair raised on my arms as I registered the sensation of eyes staring at me. I raised my gun, taking aim at the invisible specter. Maybe I was wrong to think Kane was bluffing after all.

"Come out!" I shouted.

Metal—a carabiner attached to a wire flying at me out of nowhere. In the same moment that it looped around the wrist of my gun-hand, I pulled the trigger. In the next instant, the carabiner snapped shut and the wire tightened like a noose. The world went sideways as it yanked me off my feet, and then I was on the ground, being dragged into the mouth of darkness. My gun clattered to the concrete and bounced in the opposite direction.

I collided with Bard in the confusion. Teeth latched onto the wire, he dug his claws in and strained against its pull. His breath felt hot against my captured hand. Seizing the opportunity, I used the slack he'd afforded me to loosen the loop of wire and throw it off. Freed, I scrambled away on my hands and knees, glass and rocks cutting into my palms in my hurry. I frantically searched for my gun, but it had disappeared beyond my reach.

"Bard, down!"

He released the wire and dropped to the ground with a yelp of pain.

Giving up on my first gun, I pulled the revolver from my pants pocket and lined up the sights. But I had nothing to shoot at; I couldn't make out a target from my current angle.

The silence was deafening. The wire lay on the ground like a rope cast aside. Lifeless. I was on my back, flush with the cracked concrete except for my raised head and arms, and I was afraid to move. A few feet away, between me and the ambush point, Bard lay with his head between his paws, growling and whining as he rubbed his muzzle on the asphalt.

"Shhh, it's okay," I whispered, shoving my panic into the back of my mind. I could smell the tang of blood in the air. He'd taken more damage for me. I knew he was hurt. And I knew it could get worse any second.

Bard stilled, and my ears strained to pick up any sound that might hint another attack was coming. The quiet buzzed like static, and I tried to remember if I'd hit my head. Were my ears ringing? I lay there waiting for what felt like hours before I heard anything recognizable.

It was a groan.

Bard sat up, his ears pricked towards the sound. As if in commiseration, he whined.

Cautiously, I stood and inched towards him. He eagerly placed his nose in my hands when I reached for him. Lifting his upper lip revealed three fractured teeth, one of them broken so close to his gums that I could see the red, pulp-like tissue at the center. An involuntary grimace sent a shiver down my spine. The sight made little fingers of guilt poke at my conscience for shushing him.

"Hang in there; we'll get you fixed up." I spared a moment to comfort him with a scratch behind the ears. "Good boy. You're a good boy."

His tail gave a timid wag. I smiled, but I couldn't ignore the matter at hand.

"Is he still there?" I whispered, pointing at the dark space between the buildings.

His muzzle made a downward sweeping motion. A nod. Yes.

I steeled myself and tiptoed to the edge of the nearest of the two buildings. I pressed myself against the wall and made my way to the corner. When I peered into the alley, I didn't see anything. But as my eyes adjusted, I began to distinguish a shape from the rest of the blackness. A clump of shadows and a white disk.

No. A trench coat and a white mask. Someone collapsed against the wall.

"Move, and I'll shoot."

The person behind the mask seemed to startle at my voice. In the darkness, I could barely make out the shapes of two black eyes staring at me. I was confused at fist, stunned that this obviously wasn't Kane.

"Are you with him?" I demanded. "Where is he?"

"Who?" the Mask rasped. Staring down the barrel, I could see his hand pressed to the side of his neck. The dart glinted on the ground next to him. I tried to conceal my surprise.

"That was poison." I jabbed the gun in the direction of the dart. "You've got about thirty seconds before you really start to feel it. Answer me quickly."

When he spoke, I was amazed at the calmness in his tone. "I am alone."

"If you aren't with him, what are you doing here? Where did you come from?"

"From—" His voice cut off with a gasp, air hissing from his lungs. I readjusted my grip on the gun, watching as the first wave hit him like a knife to the gut. "From… PANDORA," he said through gritted teeth. "You have the antidote?"

I ignored the question. "Why did you attack me?"

His head rolled from side to side. "I was going for your gun." He wasn't panicking. Somewhere between awe and bewilderment, I stared as his hand dropped from his throat to his side, his fingers twitching. "I wanted… to disarm you."

"Are you armed?" I asked.

"Yes." The air seemed to go out of him. Disorientation. Unconsciousness would be next; I was intimately familiar with the stages. But if he was doing what I thought he was doing—keeping his heart rate down to slow the spread of the poison—I didn't know how long I'd be waiting.

"Where?"

As if it weighed hundreds of pounds, he lifted his hand with great effort and touched the hem of his trench coat near his waist. "Here." Then, overtaken, his muscles slackened, his chin dropping to his chest. I stood at attention a few seconds longer, waiting to be sure he was really unconscious, before edging into the alley.

I nudged his leg with my foot. Nothing. Satisfied, I holstered my weapon and knelt to his side. I reached for his mask.

A gloved hand closed around my wrist. His grip was too weak to do any damage, but I still recoiled in surprise.

The word came out on a breath: "Don't." And then his hand fell away, and he was silent.

I exhaled heavily and stared down at the masked man, waiting for my heart to stop pounding. Bard crept into the alleyway, his tail lowered. He must've sensed the danger had passed, because he ventured close enough to hazard a sniff of the stranger's shoes. A few seconds later, he looked at me with his mouth hanging open, and shook his head. His sense of smell hadn't returned.

I turned away, prepared to leave, and called Bard.

He whined. When I glanced back, he was still standing by the unconscious man. My eyes shifted from Bard to the Mask. I could feel my conscience bucking around in my chest like a protesting animal, competing with my drive to escape.

"Dammit."

I threw a so-help-me look skyward before bending and hooking my elbows under the man's arms. He wasn't particularly tall, maybe a couple inches taller than me, but he was heavy. Solid. All lean muscle. Hunched over with the strain, I dragged him into one of the buildings and dropped him behind a falling-down sales counter. As long as we were out of the open, I could breathe easier. Bard stationed himself next to the door—a generic glass thing with a long bar for a handle. The top pane was busted out. It was probably what had kept the air inside the little shop from going stale.

Sitting on his haunches, Bard watched as I dug through my bag for the metal box at the bottom. The tiny hinges creaked when I propped the lid open and retrieved one of the syringes inside. Done with the box, I stuffed it back in my bag and dropped to my knees next to the Mask.

After checking his wrist for a pulse and discovering that he was, in fact, still alive—at which point I experienced a wave of mixed feelings—I took the cap off the needle, depressed the plunger to force out the air bubbles, and stabbed him in the thigh. There's your antidote. It was as I withdrew the needle that I noticed his pants.

"What the hell?" I opened his trench coat and stared. "Is this… a janitor's uniform?"

Bard abandoned the door to peer over my shoulder. He snorted in my ear.

Right away, I decided I'd gotten myself into an even weirder and more dangerous situation than I'd initially realized. What was a janitor—from PANDORA—doing running around outside the wall in a trench coat and mask with two very large knives and enough cable to climb Everest?

I removed the knives from their sheaths and set them aside, but left the wire in place. I didn't know what the Mask would do when he woke up, but it'd probably involve something sharp and general unpleasantness all around. As I was about to sit back against the counter, the impulse hit me again. Walking around with a mask like that, he was just asking for someone to take it off. There was a face under there.

Caught between the opposing urges of letting him be and looking at his face, I sat frozen, immobilized.

Directly over my head, a cat meowed.

I tilted my head back and looked straight into the eyes of a black tomcat that had perched itself on the countertop. Bard, in typical dog fashion, was immediately ready to give chase.

"Sit," I shouted when he stood up and put his paws on the counter.

Baffled, he turned his wide eyes to me and plopped down.

"No chasing Gate cats, okay?"

The cat meowed.

"Just stay by the door."

With a loud sigh, Bard obeyed.

I turned back to the Mask, forgetting my curiosity—maybe unconsciously deciding to let him be a mystery. I bent his legs at the knee and propped them up to direct more blood to his heart. The antidote had already started working. Now it was just a waiting game to make sure there were no complications.

I scooted a few feet away, creating a buffer zone between the Mask and me, and leaned back against the side of the counter.

The night was silent. To pass the time, I glanced around the little building and imagined what it looked like before Hell's Gate appeared. It had been a convenience store once. Though I was sure some of the stock must have been looted, a large portion of it still remained on the crooked shelves. Bags of chips, ramen cups, soda bottles, candy bars, magazines, comic books; all carefully arranged and organized, just as the attendant had left it. Forgotten as it was, as if someone had hit the pause button and never come back, I wondered how the shop might have looked with sun streaming in through its front windows. How many patrons used to stop here for morning coffee? Dozens of feet must have walked the floor where I was sitting. Had they stood at the windows and watched as the Gate devoured part of their city? Had they run?

I pulled my phone out and checked for a signal. The smallest bar flashed a few times, but didn't put a call through when I tried. Which was why I was surprised when, a few seconds later, a text message from Jack popped up on the screen. The time stamp said it'd been sent more than ten minutes ago.

It was a messier code: BK201

I blinked at the screen as my mind raced to remember why the number set off alarm bells. A second text popped up, this one almost as old as the first. There was only one word: Run

The bottom dropped out of my stomach as Jack's voice echoed in my head. "… If you ever come across messier code BK-201, just run. All right?"

I pushed away from the counter, but, in my rush to stand, my legs got caught under me so I fell forward onto my knees. My breath hitched when I started to warn Bard. Something in the air had changed.

A curse formed on my lips as I reacted. I whirled around to look at the Mask just in time to see his right hand coming at my face

My back hit the floor. The impact knocked the air out of my lungs in a painful whoosh. The Mask was on top of me, the palm of his hand pressed against my forehead. His fingers clawed in my hair and squeezed. I gritted my teeth against the discomfort, but didn't let my aim waver. I kept the barrel of my gun pressed firmly between the Mask's black eyes.

That moment of tense stalemate was suffocating. I didn't know what he was going to do. Was I going to pull the trigger? Kill him, this time? Time stretched to impossible lengths as I stared up at the false face—the thin line of a mouth, the purple lightning symbol covering one eye. So this was messier code BK-201.

I wondered how many more things were going to go wrong tonight.

Neither of us was ready to surrender. I could feel Bard and the cat hovering just out of eyeshot, looking on in excruciating silence. The air was still, as if the whole building were watching and holding its breath. As if the moment had frozen.

I waited for a blue glow, for red eyes, for any sign that I was about to die. Thudding in my ears like a stopwatch, my heart measured out the agonizing seconds we stayed locked like that. As I was starting to think I could see the eyes watching me from behind the mask, a dim reflection of light caught on their surface, the illusion broke.

He pulled his hand away from my head.

I took my finger off the trigger.

He did something curious then: With that same hand, he carefully touched the mask, as if checking that it was still there.

I gave a small shake of my head. "I didn't…"

Somewhere off to the side, the cat yowled loudly and leapt from the counter to the floor. The space above me was suddenly empty. I sat up. BK-201 stood a few feet away, looking towards the door so I could see the pale skin along the curve of his jaw. A second later, I heard what he'd already detected: footsteps echoing off the buildings outside.

BK-201 glanced at me one last time before turning away and running towards the back of the store. The cat chased after him and, a few seconds later, I heard a door slam shut.

It jarred me to my senses.

Adrenaline had me on my feet immediately. I grabbed my bag and was halfway out the back before I saw the knives still sitting on the floor by the counter. I snatched them and dropped them into my bag. They clanged against the metal box of syringes as I ran out the rear exit onto the street.

Escape. Escape escape escape. The word became a mantra, repeating in time with my pounding footsteps. I didn't know who I was running from anymore—Kane or BK-201, or maybe both—but I knew I needed to get out of the Gate's shadow.

Now behind the shop, one block over from where the footsteps were coming from, I dashed for an alley that might give us some cover. Bard hugged my heels as I leapt from the sidewalk and cut across the rubble-strewn street.

Bard barked a warning, loud and deep. I didn't have time to turn around and look before a hand closed around my left wrist and pulled me back. Instinctively, I used the shift in momentum to my advantage, lowering my shoulder just enough to ram upwards into my attacker's chest.

I recognized the "Oomph" on impact.

Jack went stumbling backwards, the air knocked out of him, while I recovered my balance less than gracefully.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" I said through a grimace. "Are you—?"

"I'm fine. I think you dropped this." Doubled-over with his hands on his knees, he didn't look at me as he held out my modified twenty-two. "I don't want to know how you got it into Japan. Just tell me you didn't shoot anyone."

My eyes widened. "I shot two people."

He looked up at me through his eyebrows, mouth hanging open in incredulity. "Are they dead?"

I quickly shook my head no, but froze midway through the action when Bard eyeballed me and whined. "Well, one of them is dead," I corrected. "But not because of me. Well, sort of because of me. I had a plan, but it went sideways."

"BK-201?"

"No. I mean, yes, I shot him, too, but I… fixed him."

I got the look like I'd grown a second head and declared the sky was green. "Why? Why would you fix him?"

"I didn't know he was BK-201!"

"If you had answered your phone…"

"I didn't have a signal half the time!" I shot him an indignant glare. "And 'run' would have been a good text to lead with, by the way! I've got your messier code memorized, and that's it!"

"I told you about BK-201 less than a week ago. I thought it'd stick a little longer." Still wheezing, he pressed a hand to his sternum and slowly straightened. He seemed to realize something then, and patted the side of his jacket. Groaning, he reached inside and pulled out a crushed pack of cigarettes. He closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm going to melt like butter because of you."

"You used your power?"

"I plan to. Where's BK-201?"

"He heard you coming and ran."

"Never mind, then." He tossed the cigarettes away and let his hands drop to his sides. "Are you hurt?"

I shook my head.

Relief passed through his eyes. He motioned for me to follow him, and I did. Silence surrounded us like a bubble as he led the way through the streets until, eventually, we came to a waiting car. The blonde child, July, was sitting in the front seat. He watched from the window with an utterly blank expression as we ran up. I thought I understood now.

"He's a Doll?"

"Yes. His medium is glass." Jack opened one of the rear doors for me and hurried around to the driver's side, but paused to share a look with me over the roof of the car. "You have a shard stuck in your hand, by the way."

"What?" I looked down at my upturned palms and, sure enough, found a small, bloody gash in the meat below my left thumb. Now that I'd seen it, I registered the pain. Of course.

Once Bard had jumped into the car, I climbed in and closed the door. "Thanks for finding me, July."

"Mm." He stared straight out the windshield as he nodded his head. "You are November's friend."

I couldn't tell if it was a question, so I just said, "Yes." The car started moving, picking up speed as Jack headed for Shinjuku.

The boy considered my answer, silent for so long that I didn't think he was going to speak again. When he did, it was with the same dispassionate air. "We watch out for our friends."

I saw Jack give him a sidelong look, as if the sentiment were somehow contrary, unexpected—which was strange in itself, since I thought July had probably learned it from him. They'd both come to get me, after all.

I leaned my head back and let my muscles go slack against the seat. If they'd reclined at all, I probably would have passed out.

"Do you need a doctor?" Jack asked. I didn't miss the irony in his tone.

"No. But Bard does."

Hearing his name, Bard turned himself around and laid his horse-sized head in my lap.

"Franken-dog? Why?"

"He took some damage for me," I said, my voice going quiet. I stroked Bard's ears, smoothing down his wiry fur. "Sometimes I wish he couldn't understand us."

Bard raised his head and looked at me with his sad, chocolate eyes. Why?

"You get hurt too often, buddy," I said in a whisper.

He whined—maybe in agreement—and put his head down again. I kept petting him.

"Should I wait to ask you what you were doing so close to the wall, or is now a good time?"

I cocked an eyebrow at the back of Jack's head. His tone said now was a good time and he expected an answer no matter what I thought he should do.

"You were right. Hemlock's here," I said.

He looked up sharply, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror. "You saw her?"

"No. I met some of her cronies. One of them is a Contractor named Kane. He can duplicate himself, and his price is doing seven kata. Or something. He had a katana."

"A real one?"

"I'd say so. His clone killed someone with it."

"He duplicated the sword as well?"

"Yeah. And he had one of Hemlock's vials. Threw it at me, and Bard caught it."

Jack grew quiet at this. He knew as well as I did what that meant for Bard. "Which one did he lose?" he asked eventually.

"Smell."

"Hm." The quiet sound was vaguely sympathetic. "And where does BK-201 come into all this?"

"We were trying to make it back to Shinjuku," I explained. My adrenaline was fading, and my eyes were weighed down with fatigue. "I think we ran into each other by chance. He said he'd come from PANDORA. What's his power, by the way?"

"Generating and manipulating electricity," Jack said, clearly distracted. "He was coming from PANDORA?"

"Yeah. That's what he said, anyway."

"Interesting…"

I watched him in the rearview mirror for a few seconds; his eyes were on the road, and he didn't notice. Whatever was so interesting about it, he never said. I decided I'd ask him about it later, and stared out the window. We'd made it back to the realm of streetlights and pedestrians. Relieved, I let my eyes slip closed and forced my mind to go quiet.

Bard was already asleep on my lap.

A/N: Oh hey, Hei. Fancy meeting you here. Is that a meteor shard in your pocket or are you just—

Okay, I'll stop.

Bleu Tsuki: Thanks so much for your nice review—you're giving me the warm fuzzies! And I'm really glad you're liking Charlotte so far!

Look for the next update in about a week! :] For your ears: Better Think Again by Submersed