What is the fastest way to get anywhere in the world? Flying. I was nervous and anxious as to what I was planning. Oh right my plan – steal a ticket to Kansas City, Kansas. Now I know what you're thinking, how in the world am I going to get a passport to prove my identity? …honestly I have no idea. I remembered the passport that Brooke had given me but in the end it was taken away by the police way back when. I realized that the only way I'm going to be able to get a passport is to see if I can enter the underworld somehow. It was dangerous and it was completely stupid of me but I needed a to get to Kansas City fast, who knows what Mahone had done to Tamara. Another roadblock, who the hell do I talk to? The chances of a connection to the underworld here are extremely slim and I didn't want to get caught because I spoke to the wrong people about the underworld. I went downtown and saw that the clock was at eleven and twelve. It was only eleven am. I continued to walk down hoping to spot something interesting and out of the ordinary. I narrowed my eyes over at a group of teenagers, it was a Tuesday and I'm sure that they should have been in school. I crossed the street leisurely at my own pace and then cautiously walked up to them. One of them noticed me and scowled, "Fuck off."

I raised my hands in surrender as if to say just walking and pretended to walk on. I side-glanced and noticed a lump in one of the kid's pockets. It was a perfect size. I turned around and then walked back up to the teens. One of them took out a knife and then waved it at me.

"Are you deaf or something?" the teen asked angrily, he held the blade straight out at me and immediately I knew that he was anything but professional.

In prison there are only two ways as to holding a knife: the professional way and the non-professional way. Usually you see a lot of non-professional ways, such as the blade pointing at the victim. That way is just a way of intimidation, to show that you are armed and pretty much a different way to say 'fuck off'. If you were actually meaning to attack someone it would be a typical stab. The professional way is the dulled edge of the knife against your wrist and the sharp edge out pointing in no direction. The professional way is so that it would be easier and less energy to make cuts across the face, chest, and arms you name it.

The teenager looked about fifteen and apparently he didn't recognize me at all. Of course I had been through many fights in my prison career including knife fights so I knew how to handle this kid.

"Who do I ask?" I asked plainly.

I definitely knew that I got the right people since all the eyes went wide open. One was ready to speak when the one with the knife made a pathetic attempt to stab me. Immediately I dodge it easily, grasped his wrist with both of my hands, pulled him off balance and then pulled back sharply while twisting at the same time breaking the boy's wrist before delivering a kick to his solarplex. The teenagers watching stared at me in shock and backed up as I took a step forward.

"Who do I talk to?"

One teen that came out of his daze quickly pointed to a bar. "Just ask for Keeco."

I moved past the teenagers towards the bar ignoring the injured one's moans of pain.

Inside the bar it was surprisingly nice, it was one of those places that looks like shit on the outside but fantastic on the inside. I walked up to the bartender who stared at me suspiciously.

"Keeco," I said quickly. The bartender looked like he wanted to protest but he held his tongue and said, "One moment fella." He went into the back and I waited. I looked around to see people in dress suits and some in ordinary clothes. I saw a cluster of suited men huddling together in a corner conversing over who knows what. I turned back to see the bartender returning.

"Make a left and straight down, knock two times and make 'em loud."

I nodded my thanks and then followed his directions. The hallway was long, I passed the bathrooms and the kitchen until I got to a door with the word: Manager. I knocked two times as loudly as possible and the door opened. Standing there in the doorway was a well-dressed man, his hair stuck in all directions and he had a smirk on his face when he saw me. His sky blue eyes never let go of mine.

"You must be our new customer," he said smiling, "please come in." I walked into possibly the most nicest room in the world. The desk was practically spotless, cabinets were kept neat and labeled and potted plants were hidden in the corners. Two chairs were set diagonally so that no matter what you are always facing the person at the desk.

"Please sit."

I sat nervously in one of the chairs and then looked at the man.

"Call me Lawrence."

I raised an eyebrow but decided to go with it.

"I need a fake passport and id," I immediately said going right into it. "I don't care how much it costs I just need both."

Lawrence nodded and stroked his chin. "That could possibly be arranged, but why would I want to work for a fugitive?"

My eyes widened and Lawrence pointed over to the wall and I cursed myself. Pinned on the wall was the poster of the Eight and my picture was circled in red ink. I went to stand when the door burst open and two burly men came in and forced me to sit.

"You don't think I don't know you or any of your ah...friends?" Lawrence asked.

"Look I just need at ticket to Kansas City, Kansas I-,"

"You will bring the police, you will bring trouble and that is something we can't afford."

I struggled to find words but nothing came to me. I really needed a passport to get where I was going I cursed myself again for being so careless.

"Why should I give you a passport? Give me one good reason not to call the police right here right now!"

I started to panic now. If I told him that I would leave, he would loose whatever bounty the police had on me.

"Because if they find you here, in this...suspiciously nice clean office don't you think they won't search for something?" I heard myself ask.

Lawrence smirked and said, "They can search all they want, they won't find anything."

"Oh? What about in those cabinets there?"

Suddenly the smirk was wiped off of Lawrence's face and he glared daggers at me.

"You wo-."

"Try me."

I knew that I was being ballsy but I needed that passport you can't just hand the people your ticket and expect to be home free. I looked at Lawrence and saw that he was glaring at me to see if I was telling the truth or not. I stared right back.

"What if I do give you the name?"

"I go to her then leave immediately," I replied, my voice was strong and firm. Lawrence nodded but that wasn't enough convincing for me that he would let me go.

"And if you leave then what happens?"

"I don't tell the police about your cabinet."

Lawrence looked back at his cabinet and then turned to me. Steady I told myself steady. With a nod of his head the two burly men left without a word and I straightened as Lawrence took out a card.

"This is her address, I don't know her name so don't ask."

"How can you not know her name when you two work the same business?" I wondered.

Lawrence sighed. "Some people have been doing this for years while others have just started, she is a newbie to this but trust me, she is the person you want. Flawless her work, her extension is on there too and when she asks what you want say 'Sorry wrong number.'"

I didn't push into it and thanked Lawrence.

"And remember...," Lawrence warned.

I nodded and left.

The address was only two blocks down and I made it down in no time. No one stopped me or gave me awkward looks, just went on as they were. I ducked into the apartment and then rang up her. On the first rang she answered.

"What?"

"Sorry wrong number."

"...Fuck."

But the door clicked open and I grabbed it and walked in. It was a typical apartment and I glanced downat the card to see what number I had to go to. 373. I headed to the elevator and hit 3 and waited. In the elevator I noticed the camera drilled into the corner on the ceiling and I tried not to look at it but it was so hard. Finally the elevator came to my destination and I rushed out and headed down the hall to her room. I knocked on the door and it opened. I was immediately shocked at what I saw, she looked no older than twenty and when she saw me she was shocked too.

"Well you might as well come in," she said.

I walked in and looked around. I turned back to see her locking the door and turning to me

"When Ty told me that I was going to have a special visitor, he never mentioned you," the woman said grudgingly.

"Ty?" I asked.

"Lawrence or whatever the fuck he goes by now. He keeps changing his name in hopes to be that 'mysterious' dealer kinda guy but it never works. I'm Kayla by the way."

I'm sure that I didnt' need to introduce myself.

"So a passport huh?"

"Yeah," I answered, "and an id piece."

"Right , well lets get too it. I don't want the police finding an escaped convict in my apartment." Kayla motioned me to sit and I did. She took out a large Nikon camera and took a picture of me then started to get to work. She typed in a fake name, address, birth date the works and then did the same to my new id piece.

"I know that Ty might have told you I'm a newbie at this," Kayla explained, "I've really been doing this for five years."

"What?" I exclaimed.

"Yeah my old man use to teach me from when I could count to ten."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven," Kayla answered continuing to tap away on the computer. What seemed like hours was only a single hour before she declared she was finished.

"Wanna beer?" she asked.

"Sure," I gave in and Kayla got up, turning on a few more machines and then went into her kitchen.

"You're name is Trevor Montgomery," Kayla explained digging through the fridge. "You were born on January 31 1979 and you work at a cafe in Tribune Kansas if anyone asks. You're obviously male, have your full driver's license which I've added, in free of charge by the way, and you are traveling to see your cousin whom you hate with the passion but just died after being run over my a transport."

All I could do was stare at Kayla. Well she's creative, my subconscious said, shut up I replied. I looked over to see that some of the machines have already started to print.

"See?" Kayla said pointing to the machine. "Just need to warm up." She passed me a beer.

Once the ids cooled down and I paid, Kayla took out a new wallet and then slipped the ids in.

"Don't get too excited," she said as she passed it to me, "it's actually quite old."

I thanked her and then was about to leave when Brett's phone rang. I paused, was it Brett ready to rip me another? Or was it Tamara telling me to run for my fucking life? I accepted the call and then held it to my ear.

"Where the hell are you?" It was Brooke. My eyes went wide at her voice. "Well wherever you are you have to get the fuck out!"

"Why?" I asked.

"Because Brett's phone has a fucking tracking device! J-." Brooke was cut off and I stood there in a panic.

"Brooke? Brooke!"

I looked back at Kayla and was ready to tell her to leave when something pierced through the window and embedded in the wall inches away from me.

"Run!"

We both darted out of the room as bullets broke through the glass and dotted the wall. We ran out into the hallway and I could feel Kayla's grip weaken.

"Kayla," I said turning back and gasped. Her whole right side was covered in her blood, tendrils drooled out of the wound and landed on the floor with a delicate plink! I tried to hold her upright but her whole body just slide to the ground, I felt bad leaving her here after all she had done for me but I knew that I couldn't stay around long. I checked for a pulse and it was very faint. I looked at the wound and saw that already a pool of blood had swelled greatly on the floor.

"I'm sorry," I whispered and then left.

Outside police sirens wailed and shrieked as they came down the road to where the apartment was. I turned and ran towards the fence and hopped over it with ease before making a mad dash to a place to hide. I took out Brett's phone and wanted to chuck it but realized that wouldn't be the best idea in the world, especially now. I needed to get to the airport, I needed to get to Tamara but first I needed to get the cops off my back. I ran into a nearby street that had townhouses on either side, kids and parents were watching me as I raced past them and then ducked in the bush. I waited as the sirens passed by and then looked around to see a taxi coming up to the corner. Bingo. I ran over and then jumped into the passenger's side.

"I need to get downtown," I handed the driver the money and told him to hurry. Then I noticed as we were getting out of the lot that a family was coming out, the father gave me a dark look but I knew that I couldn't do anything about it. During the ride down I was constantly looking through the back and out of the sides, my heart rate never calmed and I was on edge. The ride took about thirty minutes and downtown was crowded. Perfect. I jumped out and then took the cell phone out of my pocket and walked leisurely. I noticed a kid about my height sitting on a bench texting someone, the side pocket in his bag was open. I sat down beside him and pretended to check email too but really I was turning off the phone. Once the kid looked the other way I quickly slipped the phone into his bag and got up and left. I went to the corner and hailed a cab.

"Airport please."