"Why do you fear me?

I am your Friend.

I but guide trav'lers

Rounding the bend—

Lead them to freedom

From time and age,

Help them start writing

On a new page.

Seek for me never

Keep your course true—

When I am needed

I'll come to you.

Then I will show you

Roads without end—

Why do you fear me?

I am your Friend." - Clarence E. Flynn, Death

"And what's more, I've heard that the Reds are being pushed back from their advance on Pacific City. I was talkin' to Davy over near where they keep the radios, and one guy had his on the right frequency to check in on what's happening out there. The National Guard ought to be arriving any day now, I just know it."

"That kind of optimism'll get you killed," a grumble replied. The militiamen never glanced at each other as they spoke, instead they stared at the small tins placed over a small fire. Rations of beans and carrot stew were in these tins, and in their hands were cups of lukewarm coffee.

Emilia looked away from them, and back to the company she was with. Taylor and Courtney were finishing up their delivery of ammunition, over by the dugout a handful of paces away. Seeing their slow pace, she sighed and began wandering about, gazing up at the large pines surrounding the trench. She had some time left before they eventually returned to Blackwell, and was curious of the daily life in these frontline trenches—

Her boot caught on something and she tripped, crying out at the sudden fall. Her arms braced, and struck the ground…which suddenly groaned and thrashed underneath where she fell. Greenock yelped again, rolling off the now agitated mass that was cloaked by a thick blanket. A man's head popped up from this blanket, his hair a shaggy mess and his beard smooshed on one side of his face.

"Who in the goddamn—?!"

"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" Emilia sputtered, and was barked at, "Watch where ye' fuckin' stepping! Nearly crushed my cherries what with ye prancin' about like that!"

The girl blushed, and was quick to back away—and into another militiaman carrying his tin of breakfast. He was half-awake, and did not see her coming; they collided, and his tin ended up face-down in the mud.

"Ah—I'm sorry, forgive me…"

Her green eyes widened at the glowering look she received. Not that she blamed him—if she was cheated out of a good breakfast, she'd be pissed off as well. Yet, in that moment, she knew a line had been crossed; men do not risk life and limb to have their food be tarnished by a mere accident.

"Get out of here," was all he growled in reply. Emilia needed not to be told twice, and went straight for Taylor and Courtney, intending to stay close. Her curiosity for trench life had been well and truly sated by this point.

Greenock found a spot next to the entrance, right next to where one would step inside the shelter. She observed the wavy piece of sheet metal which served as the dugout's roof—which was covered with a layer of dirt and foliage to keep it camouflaged. Rust was forming in patches where the rainwater had settled. The smell of earth and damp pine trees was strong on her nose.

"…can you believe that shit? I swear, Caulfield's been getting on my nerves ever since we've been ordered to fight. She thinks that she has to overcompensate on being a leader for Vic—I bet she's just likes having all the control."

What the hell?

Emilia turned her head, bringing her ear close to the entrance to get a better picture of the conversation. She hears it more clearly as Taylor replies, "Court', what are you on about?"

"I just don't fuckin' like it," Wagner defends, "You've seen the way Max has been acting recently, haven't you? There's something weird going on between her and Vic, I just know it. I tried asking Vic about it, just before we left. She didn't want to talk, she clammed up and tried dodging the subject. It was really off-putting, seeing Vic so messed up about it."

"Did…is this from some kind of rumor, or something? It doesn't seem right that Max and Vic are suddenly at odds with each other."

"I heard it from Sara," Courtney admitted, "She said that she was passing by as Max and Vic were talking to each other, and she overheard them. I don't know, it just…it's making me worried that something's wrong."

Emilia narrowed her eyes upon hearing this confession. Something was wrong with this. They were Angels, they were meant to help people as best as they could. To speak of rumors like these left only two vested interests at play: a want to resolve the issue, or a want to exacerbate it. Greenock harkened then to River's words, from when they had last spoken—of what Sara had done to her brother. She wondered then if it was a rumor, or the truth; she wondered more what Sara would say if she brought it up.

"You shouldn't get worked up over that," Taylor chided, "I trust Vic more than I trust Sara; so if Vic doesn't want to talk about it, then that's it. She'll let us know when she feels it right. Until then, we be there for her like she's been there for us."

Courtney grumbled something, but it was hard to make out. Emilia pulled herself back, and stared off into nothing. Greenock thought of all the interactions she had with Sara and her companions, important or otherwise. She wonders what they meant, what intentions lied behind Sara's deep brown eyes, and slick smile.

Taylor and Courtney shuffled out of the dugout, ready to leave. Emilia followed behind, not saying a word.

Soft, nervous brown eyes flicker from one side to the other. Her ears are tuned to the slightest discrepancy of sound. The gentle rustling of the branches by the wind is like a roaring to her, there in the tranquil ambience.

Jenny Thompson spared a glance behind her, checking to make sure that Jasmin was still laying down. The silent girl was facing away from her, resting on a stretcher made into an impromptu bed. With her ruck acting as a pillow, the black-haired girl passed the time by dozing off.

The sight of it made Jenny tempted to leave.

Terrible, vicious doubts have been haunting her. It had become hard to sleep, even when time now gave her the opportunity to do so. Before, when being restless was excused for being overly concerned about one's life, now it was without good reason. The Reds had been kicked off the heights, and militia had made sure to keep the fight localized to the front line with frequent skirmishes, lasting for hours at a time.

The Angels still had some time on their hands to recover, and they spent every minute of it resting. Most of them, at least.

Again, Jenny checked to make sure Jasmin was asleep. She certainly looked the part, and Thompson couldn't see her face, nor did she want to risk trying.

Eyes forward, she takes a deep breath. The short-haired blonde tries to focus on the hypothetical conversation she'd have, supposing she followed through with what she was planning.

River won't forgive me despite me asking for it, it's obvious—but, it's better to try, than to not try at all.

Jenny wiped away her doubts, and stood up—

A hand latched onto her arm, pulling her back down. She gasped, but was silenced by another hand clamping onto her jaw. She didn't thrash in Jasmin's grip—she knew it was over by this point—but what really scared her was the fearful look Jasmin was giving her, and the frantic shaking of her head.

Not now. Stay.

The only time Carter gets afraid outside of being shot at, was when—

Jenny hears the footsteps, coming towards them. Quickly the two girls disengage, and returned to their positions.

"Jenny, Jasmin."

They stand up, at attention.

"Plan's changed. We don't have much time left," Sara curtly explained, "We need to talk to Emilia, before it's too late. Come with me, now."

"S-Sara?"

A huff of frustration, then, "What, Jenny?"

"Is this because of what happened last night?"

Sara scoffed, "What happened, was our scapegoat flew off the handle and got what she deserved. The dumb bitch thought she could be outspoken once she realized she wasn't the only one against going back to fight, and that's...it's my fault for not foreseeing such a thing."

Wilson became visibly distraught, "Not only that, but now everybody's got their suspicions up. We have to make a move now, before River can capitalize on this. She'll throw us into the lion's den if given the time, we'll have one last chance to convince others like Emilia that going back to fight is not worth it. Now come on, let's go."

Neither said a word as they followed their leader. Winding through the trench, they passed other Angels taking their midday siestas in their fire positions, draped in their blankets. Nobody noticed them as they walked past.

It became apparent as to why Sara was so adamant to meet Greenock right this second—the girl was by herself, reading a book of hers. Nobody was around to keep her company. It made for the perfect opportunity.

"No sudden movements," Sara hissed, "I don't want her to think we're trying to pressure her."

Isn't that exactly what we're doing?

Jenny was visibly nervous, but held herself together. They were just trying to help Emilia, that's all it was—she might not realize it, but the three of them were acting in her best interests, it was true—

"Emilia?"

Greenock looked up from her book, her bright green eyes surprised at the sudden company, "Oh, uhm…hey there."

Sara smiled placatingly, "Sorry to bother you, but I—we were going to take a journey down into town for some supplies. Would you like to join us?"

Jenny glanced over at Jasmin, wondering if the girl knew beforehand about this blatant lie: the returning glance expressed that she didn't.

Emilia herself was hesitant, "I…not really. I'd much rather be here. Thanks for the offer, though."

"Yes, of course," Sara tried again, "Hey, now that we can actually talk to each other, I've been meaning to ask you…have you spoken to River, recently?"

Greenock's neutral expression morphed into a pensive, faraway look, "…no, I haven't."

"Good to hear, then," Wilson emphasized, "I've been noticing she's become very…paranoid. I don't know if you happened to pass by the dugout, but she was in there, ranting and raving to Victoria about us," and Sara placed emphasis on how inclusive this term was, that it would even encompass the pensive girl, "I heard some…not so pleasant things she said about you. I figured you should know, because I'm sure you don't appreciate people who are two-faced, and half-hearted—"

"Like you?"

Jenny felt her eyes widen. She did not expect that, and neither did Jasmin, nor Sara. The brunette was stunned, and tripped over her words, "I…I'm sorry, what…?"

"River told me about what you did," Greenock narrowed her eyes at Sara, her words burning with a righteous fury. Sara tried to assert, "I wouldn't trust what River says, if I were you. She's a liar, and a tricky one at that—whatever she told you, it's most definitely not true."

"Really?" Emilia countered, "Is it not true, that you took a liking to my brother?"

Sara went quiet. Jenny glanced over to Jasmin, to see if it was a good idea to leave. The other girl was just as on-edge as she was, but subtly shook her head.

Not now. Hold your tongue.

"He told me about you, y'know," Greenock pressed, "He never said your name, but he liked to talk about you. Said you were a good person."

Sara was not elated by these words. Jenny could see her out of periphery—the brunette was tense, nervous—

Afraid.

"But how can you be a good person, when you do all sorts of bad things to people?"

"What are you implying?" Sara cut her off.

"Did you do it?" came the bitter reply.

"I don't know what she said to you—"

"Did you do something to him?!" Emilia shouted, her green eyes piercing the surprised brunette, "Did you do something to my brother, yes or no?!"

The three backed away, intimidated. Sara raised her hands in an attempt to alleviate Jacob's sister, "N-no, no! I didn't—I don't know what happened to him." Wilson kept glancing back at the trench to see if anyone heard, "Emilia, I don't know what kind of terrible things River's said about me, but you have to believe what I'm telling you. The last time I saw Jacob, he was with River, and that's all I know. If you don't believe me, then ask Jenny and Jasmin, they'll tell you the same!"

Dread creeped into Jenny's heart, because now those burning green eyes were looking at her. It is now she realizes that her chance of redemption was right here, in this present moment. Thompson knew that it was wrong, something about this story wasn't right and she couldn't remember the details, but if she said anything that implicated Sara of what really happened—

You gotta say something, say something, anything!

"I-it's true. Sara was with me, and my family."

You don't have a family.

But Emilia doesn't know that. She couldn't pry at Jenny like she could with Sara, for she didn't know anything about Jenny to form a decent retort. And with each passing second, the fire in Greenock's eyes was tamed, until there was nothing but an awkward shame remaining.

"I…that's…"

The troubled girl turned away from them, ashamed, "I'm sorry. I thought…"

"It's okay," Sara quickly assuaged, "Look, Emilia, if you'd like, we can talk about this later, but we need you to stay away from River. She's been lying about Jacob—she knows what happened to him, but she won't tell the truth. She'll lie to make it seem like we're the ones with blood on our hands, but we're not—she knows what really happened, and we've got to make her fess up about it, for Jacob's sake."

Emilia looked up to meet Sara's attentive gaze. There was a clarity in her bright green eyes, unlike anything Sara had seen before. Where once they were dimmed with sorrow, or burning with anger, now they were sharp with purpose. It was a most unusual sight, for Sara found comfort in her victim's inability to realize what lies she told them. The sight of those sharp green eyes brought a tangent of fear to the brunette's heart, even despite her confident assertions.

"Yeah," Emilia muttered, "You're right."

Jenny looked away, believing Emilia to be ensnared to Sara's whims. She couldn't bear to watch any longer.

I'm sorry.

Greenock's hand drew her canteen, and the girl became downtrodden, "Aw, shoot—my canteen's dry, I gotta go."

She turned and left them, heading off to get some water. She left her rucksack and open book as well, which gave Jenny a subtle nudge of discomfort.

Wait, why did she leave her stuff…?

"Let's get out of here," Sara beckoned, "It will happen tonight, before we get sent back into the town. Gather your things, and be ready before the sun sets."

"Aren't we—isn't Emilia coming with us?"

Sara started walking away. She gave no answer. Jenny and Jasmin glanced worriedly at each other, but followed thereafter.

Victoria sighs. A hand of hers brushes her bangs back, her palm was glistening with sweat. She remembers acutely that she has not showered yet, even though the day was now drawing to a close.

Chase sighs again. She's tired, and hasn't gotten any rest since the incident last night. Her head was spinning, doubts and assurances playing a constant tug-of-war in her head—

She should have known something was wrong, ever since yesterday. Samantha was under the same kinds of stress as everyone else, and had nearly lost Steph in the defense of Blackwell's heights. Victoria should have tried harder, done something more to assure the brunette, to give her hope when she had nothing left to fight for.

But what Samantha had nearly done to Kate—it was a betrayal of trust, a betrayal of the highest caliber. Chase had half the mind to shoot Myers for her treachery once it was revealed, but the pixie blonde had stayed her hand. Whereupon realizing the true motive for Samantha's actions, Victoria knew that it could not be settled by more bloodshed. Vengeance begets vengeance, blood begets blood—she knew this well because she and the Angels had practiced it upon the encroaching Reds.

She had made peace with Nathan's death, in her spare time, far away from everyone's curious looks and prying ears. It had taken a lot of tears, and all of her spare cartons of cigarettes, but she was no longer bothered by him being gone from this world. Prescott had made his choice, his fate was in his hands, and so he had done what he thought was right. None of it was upon her, nor could be tied to her, and to that she muttered good riddance. The Nathan she remembered was long gone. Victoria moved on now, and shed no more tears for him.

Samantha was a clear and vivid reminder to the Queen of Blackwell of what happens when one is consumed by vengeance. And to think she could have tread down such a path, if she might've taken that first step; the thought of it nauseated her.

Victoria sighed again, resting her hands upon the makeshift table set up in the dugout. It was a crude rectangle design, formed from a thin sheet of plywood with empty ammo cans stacked underneath it. It was a stretch to even call it a table when it barely measured the length of her arm in width and only twice that in length, but it was better than nothing. Over this table, a small battery-powered lantern bathed the dugout in a warm yellow glow. Upon this table was her map, with a pen and some small rocks formed into crude lines placed atop it. It was a rough display which she had created to eventually present to Max and the others before they were to march back into town, to show them where they planned to go.

But this wouldn't be until morning, many hours from now. In fact, now was the time to head back to her firing position and relieve the poor soul on fire watch, so that they might get some rest. Victoria chuckled at the thought of River standing out there on the parapets, rubbing her hands together in a futile attempt to keep warm, all whilst cursing Victoria's name. Not that she blamed Schwartz, she too was not enthusiastic about standing on guard in the dead of night.

"Squad-lead?"

Victoria startled, locking her eyes upon the sudden newcomer, "Jesus—you have got to stop doing that, Sara. You'll give me a heart attack at this rate."

"Sorry, squad-lead," Sara replied, stepping into the dugout. Behind her, Jenny and Jasmin came through, each with their full set of gear. Their rifles were clutched in one of their hands. Sara had her rucksack on, the straps digging into her shoulders.

"…you guys seem ready to leave," Victoria remarked, "but it's far too early to head out now."

"We know," Sara assuaged, "We're just going to leave our stuff in here."

Jenny and Jasmin shifted over to the corner of the dugout, and out of Victoria's periphery. She paid them no mind, choosing to focus on Sara's posture. It was tense; her shoulders were squared and her head was angled down. The brunette was quick to ask of her, "Say, squad-lead—I've noticed you've been very…stressed out."

"Considering what happened last night," Victoria sighed, "Yeah, I'm not in the best shape. Speaking of which, I've been meaning to tell you: I don't want you roaming off and out of sight from now on. I've lost track of how many times you've missed our debriefs on what we're doing, and it's gotta stop. Especially now, since we're going back into town—"

"About that," Sara interrupted. Chase narrowed her brows in confusion, "What, what's the matter?"

"We're not fighting, anymore."

A long pause. The coldness of the air seeped into Victoria's skin, bringing forth goosebumps. Her eyes glimmered with brewing anger under the light of the lantern. First it was Samantha, now this?

"What did you just say?" the Queen coldly inquired.

"We're not going down there, squad-lead," Sara then smiled at her, tauntingly, "And we're not going to listen to you anymore."

"…what the hell is wrong with you?"

"There's nothing wrong with me," Wilson retorted, "On the contrary, there's something wrong with you, and your friends. You all are insane, thinking that others should waste their lives for your cause. We don't want any part of it anymore. We're leaving this hopeless place, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Just who the hell do you think you are—!"

"Jasmin."

The rough end of the rifle stock collided with Victoria's head before she could react. She tried to brace herself against the table, but it could not support her weight, and she tumbled with it to the dirt. The hit stunned her completely, and whatever words she had for them were lost. Chase groaned where she lay, the pain finally registering as a harsh throbbing of her head.

"Jenny, zip-tie."

"…Sara, I—"

"Do it," Wilson hissed, "Here's our opportunity to make this bitch pay for what she's done to the others. If you want to get out of this mess alive, then do as I say, now."

Victoria tried pushing herself up, but her head was swaying too much. She couldn't stop them from taking her arms and pinning them behind her back, her wrists being clamped together by the zip-tie. Dread overwhelmed the pixie-blonde, for now it was over—they would surely kill her once they snuck away. She had to do something, anything—

"Help, someone help—!" Victoria tried to cry out, but Sara's hand grasped her jaw and choked her of breath. She thrashed desperately, but the brunette's grip was like iron, and Chase couldn't shake her off. Sara pulled her face closer, and glared into her captive's frightened green eyes.

"You looked down upon me and my friends, thinking that we're meant to be expendable," she smiled, her blackened orbs glowed with malice, "Now you will know what it means to be tossed aside so easily."

Sara's grip slackened, and the pixie blonde gasped for air. She had a second to recover, but the brunette's rifle stock struck her in the gut. Victoria doubled over, a horrible wave of pain blooming from the impact. The idea of speaking was long gone, in its place was a desperate need to breathe. Tears fell, and rolled down her flushed cheeks.

"Get her up," Wilson directed her minions, taking the lead with her rifle at the ready, "Follow my lead."

Jenny was the one to haul the gasping blonde up and forwards, Jasmin strode ahead and behind Sara to back her up. The trio made their way out of the dugout and down the trench, searching for the nearest exit. Victoria whimpered in anguish, barely able to keep herself upright in Jenny's grip.

"Goddamnit—will you shut her up?" Sara turned back to hiss at Jenny, "Someone's gonna hear us at this rate."

"I…" Jenny motioned she didn't have anything to do the trick. Sara huffed in frustration, and stepped over to do it herself—by taking her rifle and striking Victoria in the jaw with it. The pixie blonde went limp, having been knocked unconscious.

"See? Not that hard," Wilson chided, then went back to assume the lead.

"Speak for yourself," a muttering from Jenny replied. Thompson was unprepared when Sara rounded on her, a hand grasping at the collar of her jacket, "Come again?"

"I—I can't carry her now, she's too heavy. We should just leave her, now that she's out cold—"

"No," Wilson growled, "Not this time. We've come so far, Jenn', we don't need you fucking it up now—keep carrying her."

"But she's…she's not even coming with us, is she?"

"Only up to a certain point. She's our ticket past the Reds, once we meet up with them. They'll be too busy with her to want anything from us."

Sara turned away, grumbling at the interruption. Jenny glanced at Jasmin, eyes wide with worry. The other girl said nothing, and shook her head.

Not now.

"Let's go," Sara hissed at them, and they followed, moving further down the trench.

The passage leading out of the trench was just up ahead of them. From there, they would sneak around the line, and down the slope and into the cover of the trees. The Angels would never find them in time, and wouldn't dare to venture out into the dark. All was working in their favor, they just had to keep going—

A couple figures rounded the corner of the passage, and bumped into Sara, who was unprepared for the sudden encounter. They recovered, and a lengthy pause settled as they recognized each other. It was Courtney and Taylor, the latter of which found her voice and spoke first, "What the—?"

Sara quickly raised her rifle at them, "Hands up, hands up!"

Stunned, the two girls raised their hands. By this point, Courtney had put two-and-two together, "What the fuck's the matter with you—what did you do to Vic?!"

"Shut your fucking mouth," Wilson snapped at them, the barrel being jabbed at their faces, "Next one to speak gets a bullet to the face."

"Jasmin," Sara then addressed, "Keep these two where they are. Jenny, get moving."

"They'll hear you," came a deadly whisper. Courtney's glare was fearless, burning with a righteous flame, "You can't risk it."

"Try me, you dumb bitch," Sara adjusted her aim, threatening her, "See where it fucking gets you."

Jenny realized it was a bluff. Wagner was right, they couldn't risk anymore noise, lest it attract the attention of the others. If too many people caught on before they could escape into the darkness, then it was over for them.

Courtney knew this, and dropped her hands. Taylor noticed this and became frantic, "Court', don't—"

"Hands up—!" Sara stepped closer to intimidate her, but her boot slipped on a patch of mud, and she lost her balance. Jasmin turned her attention for just a moment to her leader to see what was wrong, and Courtney struck—she drove herself into Sara and forced her against the trench wall, her hands grabbing for the rifle sandwiched between them.

"Taylor, run!" she cried, wrestling against Sara's hold on the rifle. The blonde in question darted out the exit and out of sight, much too quick for Jasmin to stop her. The silent girl chose to help Sara instead; a two-on-one ensued. Courtney might have had a chance against Sara when she'd surprised the brunette, but Jasmin's entry sealed her fate. A swift strike of the rifle stock to the face sent Wagner straight to the ground. She was reeling from the hit, and tried to stand—only to receive a swift boot to her side, knocking her back down into the mud. Courtney heaved, the intense pain having sapped her of air. The cold steel of Sara's rifle then pressed against her chest, keeping her pinned.

"Jasmin, knife," the brunette growled, "Jenny, get moving."

Jenny did not move. She was frozen in horror at what happened, at what was going to happen. Jasmin herself was hesitant to pull her knife out, for she knew what it meant. But their leader did not care, for she was inebriated with wrath—so much that she snapped at them, "The fuck are you two waiting for? Jasmin, pull your knife out so we can get moving, now."

Jasmin slowly pulled out the knife from her vest. Jenny looked away, not wanting to see it.

"Do I have to fucking do it?" Sara hissed again. Jasmin finally approached, the knife's blade glimmering in the moonlight. Courtney saw it, and panicked, "Wait, wait—please! Please, don't—!"

"Jenny, I swear to fucking God, if you don't start moving—"

"Sorry, I'm sorry," the terrified blonde squeaked, and picked up Victoria once again. She kept here eyes away from the sight of Courtney begging, even as Jasmin mustered the courage to follow through, "Wait, please, I—take me instead of Vic, take me instead! I won't fight, I promise I won't, just leave her here and I'll do whatever you say, please—!"

"Kill her, Jasmin."

Courtney's blue eyes glimmered with terror as the knife is brought up, "No—!"

"Freeze!" a voice bellowed, and was followed by beams of light coalescing onto them, "Nobody move!"

The Angels of First Squad appeared from the top of the trench, their rifles angled down at them. Juliet's quartet were on one side, whilst Max, Chloe, Kate and the others were on the opposite side. Beside Max was Taylor, and beside her was River, and Emilia; all of whom had their rifles aimed at them. Jenny immediately dropped the unconscious blonde, and raised her hands. Jasmin was stunned, her knife held in place above her head. Sara dropped her rifle—

"Oh thank God!" Wilson suddenly cried out, "You've saved us, you've saved us!"

"…what the fuck—?"

"It's all her doing," Sara pointed easily at Jasmin, who still hadn't released her knife, "She's forced us to follow along to her whims all this time, she's the one who forced us to hurt others— but now the veil has been lifted," Sara glared down her arm at the silent girl, "it's over for you, you murderer."

Jasmin was in shock. Jenny couldn't speak, so overwhelmed was she in disbelief—but a voice cut through the accusations so quickly—

"N-no!" Courtney rasped, "You're the bitch whose manipulating them! I-it was you!"

"And I might believe you, if I were in your position," Sara coldly remarked, "laying there, scared for your life. That you might be compelled to lie to everyone, saying that I did it when she's the one who was about to kill you. What kind of person does that?"

Jasmin's hand was shaking as she dropped the knife. She shook her head frantically, but Sara's words carried farther than her expressions. The jury of Angels were silent to the arguments of the accuser and the accused.

Courtney had no answer. However, she didn't need one: a voice sounded from the Angels—

"You're a liar, Sara," River growled, her rifle aimed squarely at the brunette, "I know it was you who did this. It's been you all along!"

"Strong words, coming from the person spreading rumors about everyone else," came the sly retort, "But I know the truth, River—"

"You killed him!" Schwartz barked, "You killed Emilia's brother, I know you did!"

The Angels turned upon hearing this new accusation. Emilia's eyes glistened with tears.

"She's so quick to accuse others of what she herself could be guilty of," Sara espoused to her audience, "You would almost think it's too obvious, but such is the way it is. I would be willing to speak about the particulars of his demise, but she tries to shout over me, knowing that I'm right—"

"It was you."

Heads turned again. Emilia gathered her courage, and rasped, "It has to be you. River told me, you drowned him in the creek. It has to be you—"

"River's lies are all you've heard," Sara confidently defended, "I couldn't speak about it until now, for fear of my life. The truth of the matter is," then the brunette rounded on Jasmin, "it was her. She's the one who killed him, with her knife. Stabbed him in the heart. She'd kill me if I dared to say it, but she cannot stop me now."

"So it's not true, that you had a crush on my brother?" Greenock countered.

A pause. Then, "No. It's not true. River's attempt to implicate your brother's death onto me is as fake as the other rumors she's talked about."

Emilia was visibly torn, everyone could see it. She turned to River, doubts lurking in her troubled glare. She couldn't tell what was truth and what was a lie, and River's heart sank. How else could she prove it, if her words had no weight? She glared down and Sara, and her puppets, Jenny and Jasmin—

Jenny. Jasmin.

"You calling me a liar?" River snarled, "You think I don't know? Fine then. Why don't we ask someone who was there to see it, like Jasmin, and Jenny?"

The Angels concurred with this sentiment, muttering in agreement and nodding their heads.

"Jasmin refuses to speak," Sara noted, almost with a smug tone, "Even if she wasn't guilty, which she is, she still has no means to prove it. Jenny wasn't there to begin with—she was with her family."

"How about you let her speak for herself," River snipped, then she addressed the short-haired blonde, "Is it true, Jenny? Who's the traitor, who's the one behind all of this?"

Oh no.

The eyes of every person looked to her for an answer. Her hands shivered, her lips trembled. She glanced up at River, and Emilia. Greenock was tearful, and holding back her sobs. Schwartz was visibly desperate.

Jenny shifted her attention to Sara. The brunette had a soft, confident smile. And yet, her eyes were shaded with silent threats. Jenny held her fate in her hands, and Sara was keen to let her know what happened if she dared to make a mistake.

The blonde looked finally to Jasmin, the accused—who was resigned to her fate. She knew it was over, and the part she played was destined to implicate her; but the silent girl had the dignity to reciprocate Jenny's glance, and nodded to her.

Now. Do it, Jenny.

Thompson turned back to the jury, and answered.