Johan sighs lightly at Juliette's response, in truth he disliked his class being called into attention. Unfortunately she was right, it was his status that acted as a shield as well as his many favors for the police station. None the less he couldn't let such a pompous statement from the class 3 girl go unanswered "Actually I will be questioned in due time,just like any criminal witness. The police have my personal number and are fully capable of getting a hold of me at any time. They understand that my time is limited and I have a lot of good to do around class two so they contact me when they need me so I can fit them in. If you are worried about it though." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card. His personal number already written on the back "You can keep track of me yourself.... Also would you mind giving this to the boy cleaning up the table. I'm afraid I must get going but he deserves a little extra tip for his hard work." He handed the girl a bill folded up so that a one dollar bill was on the outside. Any onlooker would assume he gave her 15 dollars or something, the truth was it was a fifty wrapped in a one. "I trust you." He smiled at her gently, knowing anyone who would object to them leaving based on the thought that they needed to talk to the police first, was likely a trustworthy and law abiding person.

It was time for them to get moving, he had a lot to do with the interruptions of today and he still had to drop the pair off. As they got into the car he introduced Greg as if he was just another friend. First introducing him to them then them to him. Greg seemed nice enough in his loudly flowered orange and yellow Hawaiian shirt. With direction from Adrian, Greg would take them to whatever hotel room they where staying at tonight. Being fully aware of the activity the two where likely to participate in he wasn't planning on staying with them. Adrian would understand his propensity toward plausible deniability, having had him 'happen' to not be around when Adrian did what he did rather often in the past. Being a doctor Johan knew full well what kinds of things Adrian had his hands in, but preferred not to see them first hand. He found that not being around when he did them improved his view of the man greatly.

When the car stopped at the hotel he got out and knocked on the trunk, Greg promptly popped it for him and he dug around a bit. "I think I have.... Yeah here it is." He pulls out a little backpack "Robin's 'emergency' bag, with" He mimic's his sister's voice "All the things a girl could need." He chuckles a little "Not completely sure what all that entails, but I know there is a change of cloths and some cleaning products in there but I am not really sure what the rest of it is." He would hold the backpack out to Juliette. His sister had these hidden all over the place, in his car, in his brothers car, probably in her own car. He even found one at his beach house once and he didn't even know she had gone there before. She was always had to look perfect and these bags did just that. The backpack contained high quality shampoo, conditioner and soap, a large selection of makeup's of all shapes and sizes and some moisturizer just in case, buried at the bottom where the basic feminine hygiene products for the time that caused men to flee in terror. To top it all off, inside a specially made vacuum bag to keep cloth from wrinkling was one of her personal styled dresses. Johan didn't really understand it all, but when it came to her looks he found it was better to just nod your head and go with it. Never the less it would come in handy now. Though he would have to make sure Robin sent him another one or he would get a talking to next time she needed it.

Colby abruptly sat up in bed, heart pounding, palms sweating, skin itching. He had a dream, but he couldn’t recall anything more than feeling terrified and even that was ebbing quickly. A quick wipe of his hands along the bed covers, then he covered his face with both palms. Breathing was forced into a slow and steady rhythm until he couldn’t feel every beat of his heart reverberating through his body. It took approximately ten minutes before he felt normal-ish again and took a look around the room. And yesterday came crashing back down around him.

He had been fired. The manager believed Holly over his word, because well, Holly had boobs and she wasn’t afraid to show cleavage to make the decision sway in her favor. Holly claimed it had been Colby’s fault, from the breaking of the table to her table had skipped out on paying for their food in the commotion of the cops, and the fact that the cops had to come was also somehow his fault. It also didn’t help his cause that the manager was not a patient man, and didn’t care to try and wait out Colby’s stuttering explanation of what really transpired. He hadn’t been able to get in more than a sentence before the man just agreed with the girl and fired him.

It didn’t matter that he had been given money he thought was supposed to pay for the food. Or that he had seen Holly sweeping the table of any money in the commotion called by the cops. None of that came into light because he stuttered ten times worse when he was stressed or upset. He was informed that all damages would be taken out of his last paycheck, then they forced Colby to turn in his name badge. They even took the shirt off his back, because they had paid for the ‘uniform’, which consisted of a single red shirt, and he wasn’t allowed to leave with ‘company property’.

Humiliated, frustrated, and feeling a crap ton worse than he could recall in years, Colby walked home, shirtless, jobless and pretty damn depressed. That could have easily led into the nightmare he knew he had, but without being able to recall it, he couldn’t say for certain. Just as well, no one wanted to remember nightmares. “F-f-fu-fu-fuck!” Rent was due next week, which meant he couldn’t even wallow in his misery for very long.

Colby rolled over onto his stomach and screamed his emotions into his pillow. It made him feel just a little better, or a little more tired, maybe both. Suppose at least he could say he knew what he was going to do that day. Go job hunting. He rolled until he just fell off the side of the futon, landing with a thud on the floor. He used the small impact to help force himself to get up and grab a shower. Mentally, he was already running through other diners and places he thought he could reasonably get a job. If only he could find one where he could play the piano or his keyboards it would be a dream.

Pipe dream, order up.

"la belle, stop your sulking and come with us. Your gun could not be more organised, you've been at it for three hours."

Emerald eyes burned as the beauty glared at the older gang member, baring her teeth and shoving the magazine into her rifle. "No," she said curtly before taking out the magazine once again. She'd been taking apart her Anschutz .22 LR and putting it back together for much more than three hours. She'd begun prior to dawn and Trinity's Sun was already setting. She propped up the weapon between her legs, pressing the muzzle against her forehead as she leaned against it. Breathing. Her finger rested on the trigger as she counted the minutes. She didn't know when it had first begun, when she first started counting the hours of the day and the days of the year. Her twenty four hours of today were almost over and she was grateful.

The door clicked shut as the older Crimson gave up with a sigh. Juliette opened her closed eyes, her eyelashes brushing against her cheekbones as she blinked slowly. She rubbed her abdomen, the side where a laser had once pierced through. She was completely healed now, with nothing to hint at what had happened. She thought briefly of a certain red haired doctor, but quickly brushed the thought away. She stood, lifting the rifle onto her right shoulder - also healed now.

Looking through the rickety windows, she pressed her palm flat against the dirty, cracked glass. The room was dim, the gas lamps having gone out weeks ago. Orange sunlight streamed in through the windows, painting the furniture in an eerie glow as the Sun disappeared. Juliette's pupils dilated to allow in more light but there could never be enough light in Class Three. It was a world of darkness, as it always would be. She knew, as a Crimson, she was meant to have hope for change but she didn't. She never had and she wasn't about to begin now.

Juliette let her eyes wander along the homeless figures below, a pang in her chest signalling guilt. Her apartment was lopsided, ruined, flimsy, but at least she had a home. She let her mind wander, thinking of the detective, the strange asian woman, Morgan and Johan. She wasn't sure what she felt about the last two. They seemed nice enough for then again, the upper classes were fantastic liars. Money could earn you trust and she would never become one of those. She wasn't on the side of le démons. Was she? Since she'd returned from her trip to Class Two, people had been treating her strangely. Of course. Not many people wrecked such havoc in the upper classes and came back so intact. Most of them believed she'd slept her way out of it - that's what they used to explain everything good that ever happened to her - and the rest thought she'd done more than sleep. She's seduced a rich man and was now conspiring with the upper classes. It was stupid. Why would they need her? She was a simple prostitute. A simple woman who could wield a gun and pummel most men.

Normal.

Juliette turned away from the window and dropping her rifle onto her makeshift bed, opened the rotting door of her closet. She immediately dropped her eyes, seeing the beautiful clothes that hung from the hangers. None of them were hers, but gifts from her clients. They made her sick but without the income from her part time job, she would truly be sick. She needed to forget her body by using it. Abusing it. She pulled a random set of clothes from one of the hangers, slipping from her clothes and ripping the new set over her naked body. She cringed at the fine material as it slipped over her skin.

Soon, she was out on the streets, her fingers running through her sun-streaked hair as her eyes darted from one shadow and person to another. Juliette pressed her fingers to her cold lips, drumming them against the softness as she yearned for anything to quiet her mind. She needed to lose herself in the blurred beauty of drugs. Her long legs pulled her forward, even though all she wished to do was standstill. None of the locals paid Juliette any attention, being used to seeing women dressed as she was walking about. Juliette's heels splashed against a puddle as she caught herself in the reflection of a rundown building. A slim, auburn-haired woman stared back at her. She was clad in black, her eyes filled with a hate and sadness so intense, it hurt Juliette to look at her.

"Hey, babe. How much are you?" whispered a raspy voice by her ear. Juliette cringed imperceptibly, forcing a smirk to her lips as she dropped her lids to make her eyes sultry. Juliette turned around slowly, pressing her hands against the man's chest. He was tall and heavily built, and he reeked of cigarettes. He reeked of home.

"I don't think you can afford me," she whispered, turning around to walk away. She was headed for one of her many dealers, one of the dealers who accepted 'bodily payments.' She wasn't here for this man.

"Woah, woah. Slow down, baby," the man called, snatching Juliette's wrist in his. The gang member stilled, narrowing her eyes and whipping her head around to stare at the large man, his figure towering over her.

"Let go," she warned.

"Are you doing to make me?" he asked with a sly smile, jerking her forward against his chest and wrapping his thick arms around her.

There comes a point in every cop’s life, especially those in Class 3, where they have to make a choice between corruption and whatever sick sense of justice they may have. For Adrian, that time had already come and gone. The gangs knew that Adrian didn’t take any bribes. Usually that makes the cop’s life harder, and in a way it did. Every now and then a gang put a hit out on him. It was never serious though. Adrian’s saving grace was how much he ignored the drug trade. The only time he ever intervened in those matters were when the people involved were being stupid about it, like the time where he had to shut down a cocaine operation because the gang involved was cutting the coke with a white powder that was making those who used it incredibly sick, even killing a few.

It had been a week since they had gotten back from Class 2. As promised, Adrian dropped off the girl and made sure the charges were dropped against her. There was little point in prosecuting her, anyway. She’s still a whore, so she’s low level in the gang anyway. Were she in a position of any influence, she wouldn’t still be working the street. Most of what the ground level folks knew, the cops already knew too. At the end of the day, all they would have done is wasted money prosecuting a prostitute, and getting one whore of the street wasn’t worth all that time, money and effort.

There was little going on in Class 3, at the time. Since being back, Adrian had wrapped up a few homicide cases and found one missing child. Those were all the cases he was assigned, and had yet to be assigned a few new ones. For an alcoholic with a slight drug problem, Adrian was very good at what he did. It wasn’t arrogant for him to claim he was one of the best, if not the best, detectives in Class 3. His resume shined. But life was beginning to become more dangerous for him. There’s no such thing as a living cop legend, because eventually the more malevolent of fellows in Class 3 will get together and decide that you’ve worn out your welcome on life. Even Adrian, despite his ignoring of the drug trade, will ultimately find himself in their crosshairs. It was for this reason Adrian was spending all his extra resources, including money and favors and influences, to turn his home into at least a somewhat defensible position. If they wanted him, more than a few people would die before they got him.

“Adrian!”

Hearing his name awakened Adrian from his little daydreaming session, leaning back in his chair at his desk. “Yeah, Chief? What can I do you for?”

“We have another missing child.”

Adrian sighed, and then looked up at the chief. The man was a bit overweight, yes, but what many would mistake for fat Adrian knew to be incredible strength. The Chief worked out as if he were addicted to it. It was the lack of cardio that attributed to the somewhat excessive amount of fat. For a guy in his mid 50’s, the chief looked much younger. The only things that gave away his age was his extra fat and the thick handlebar mustache that started from his nose and fell to at least two inches below the chin. “There’s always a missing child, Chief.”

“Yeah, but not like this. This one comes from Class 1.” Hearing that, Adrian froze. That almost never happened. How does a child get all the way from Class 1 to 3? Something didn’t smell right about this.
“Then why aren’t the swat teams down here? If a Class 1 child was kidnapped by someone in Class 3…” The chief waved, as if Adrian had got it wrong, then took a seat in the chair across from Adrian’s desk, shutting the door to his office.

“This is coming from really high up, Adrian. There’s something fishy about all this. The child wasn’t kidnapped by a citizen of Class 3. Apparently this is between two Class 1. But for whatever reason, they believe the child, Hannah, is being held somewhere in Class 3. Your abilities have not gone unnoticed Adrian. You were recommended by someone as the guy who could find this girl.” The chief pulled a small, wallet sized photo from his shirt pocket and handed it to Adrian. It looked like a school picture day. The girl was wearing some kind of school uniform, and she couldn’t have been more than twelve, with dark brown hair and pale skin and a naïve, awkwardly youthful smile. “I’m afraid that’s all the information we were given. For now, this is your only assignment. Good luck, son.”

As the chief left, Adrian sat back into his chair and ran his hands through his hair, wondering just what the hell he had gotten himself into now. He knew where to start though. A case like this, he could afford to go ask the gangs, personally. All these years of looking the other way on a few things, the least the gangs could do would be tell him if they’ve heard any rumors of a girl from the upper classes. Also, he should probably talk to Johan. There could be rumors and gossip about this going on around Class 1, as well. Pulling out his phone, Adrian sent Johan a text:

Know anything about a missing Class 1 girl?

After a quick check of his equipment like his gun and knife and handcuffs, a good habit to be in considering if one of those three things failed you it could mean your death, Adrian walked to the motor pool and signed out a car this time. Not a hover car, but just a black, civilian looking car. Of course, it was bulletproof, and while it looked rather junky, it actually had a powerful engine and was quite formidable.

The gang that owed him the most recent favor, for taking care of Juliette and dropping the investigation on them, was the Crimsons, so that’s where he’d start. In no time he was across town, just in time to see a big brute of a man trying to force himself onto a prostitute. It was perfect timing, to be honest. Starting at the lowest of levels was always the best way to begin an investigation. You don’t go straight to the gang leader. That was bad form. And usually these whores are so drugged up that they’ll tell you anything if you gave them reason to, and saving one of them from being raped was more than enough of a reason.

Pulling over and lighting a smoke, Adrian seemed to be unnoticed by the pair. When he overheard the girl clearly say “no,” that gave him all the reason he needed to intervene. “’Scuse me sir, but ‘no’ means the same thing from a working girl’s mouth as it does yours or mine.” The big guy turned around, ready to fight. Usually, Adrian would fight, but this time he didn’t have the time or care for it. Instead, Adrian just flashed his badge. “The paperwork I’d have to fill out after killing you just sounds too exhaustive. Please, just scurry away, now.”

The guy stared at Adrian in silence, though it was clear that a bad word or two on Adrian’s behalf was circling the large guy’s head. The moment seemed to last a while, but the guy soon turned and walked away, mumbling something about killing Adrian later. That wasn’t troubling though, because they all did that to some degree. By now, Adrian had realized that, coincidentally, the girl involved in all this happened to be Juliette. Once the large guy had walked away, Adrian turned to Juliette and flashed a big smile, “La belle! What a pleasant surprise.” It was hard to decipher whether or not he was being sarcastic or sincere. Seeing her dressed seductively though reminded Adrian that he needed to call his ex, more than anything. And while the detective did probably stare at Juliette's legs longer than he should have (being a legs man), he hid it pretty well with a little joke, “lookin’ good, but doesn’t lingerie go underneath clothes, though?” Adrian chuckled as he cleared the distance between them, deciding to go ahead and ask what he needed to. “Have you heard any rumors about a missing Class 1 girl being held somewhere in Class 3?”

As the days passed Johan had continued his good work for the people. He had even begun to work on a project to open a free non-perishable food delivery every month to the third class. He was running into a lot of problems with security however. Feeding that many starving people was tricky because people tended to get extremely aggressive if they don't get what they are expecting. Delivering was easy, but he couldn't find a task force willing to take on the job of protecting the food and people as it is distributed fairly. It was an issue that had been on his mind for months now, ever since he thought up this idea. Today was his day off however and he planned on relaxing a bit.

Johan didn't relax like most people did. Instead of finding a nice comfortable place like a hot tub or a couch with a movie. Johan's version of relaxing was a bit more... active. We join him in the middle of a massive apparently empty room. The tiles on the floor forming perfect squares but they where smaller than one would expect, each tile only covering maybe a hand's span of space. The walls and ceiling seemed to copy this pattern. The cracks between the tiles didn't seem to be sealed in any way which would seem odd to most unless they knew this was Johan's training room. This is where he let off the stress of his life, training his body and senses in an endless battle to achieve balance of self.

Johan stood in a low horse stance in the middle of the room calmly breathing in fully then out fully. One would think he was simply meditating if it wasn't for his lack of cloak today and the odd devices he was wearing. On his ankles where two small metal devices that only his closest friends would know where magnetized so he could control the weight on him in the room. On his biceps where similar devices, which on top of being magnetically weighted, where also locking his arms behind his back in a rather uncomfortable looking position through a magnetic lock. On his head was what looked like a visor, the screen of which appeared completely black, blinding him. Whatever it was that he was doing it looked disturbing, one would feel uncomfortable simply looking at him. He has deprived himself of his sense of sight as well as the use of his arms. For what purpose would not be clear until he began.

With one more deep breath he spoke "Computer, begin training challenge 14." A computerized feminine voice is suddenly emitted through the room "Challenge 14 loaded, count down till cancellation lock...Five...four...three... two ... one... Cancellation option deactivated... Simulation beginning. Level 1: Balance" Suddenly the room burst into life, Each individual tile seemed to be able to move and shift, they moved into a formation which only gave him single blocks to stand on, raising him up high enough that a fall would be dangerous. One of the tiles on the other side of the room lit up red. His visor cleared allowing him to see...for now. Balancing on one foot he surveyed the room and began to run across the thin pillars that acted as the ground. His hands where still locked behind his back yet he seemed perfectly balanced. He got halfway to the red tile before the computer spoke again "Level 1 Phase 2" The tiles in the ceiling moved out of the way and punching bags began to swing down from it. They where obviously attempting to knock him off the pillars.

Pivoting on one foot he slides around the first of the attacking bags, all the while still keeping his balance on the small pillar. At the end of the spin his other foot finds purchase on another pole just in time for him to duck low under another singing bag. He shifts his weight as he pops back up and manages a couple more sets before having to step back to avoid another bag. Three more steps before he turns his body into a horizontal spin, kicking out at a 270 degree position in the spin. This causes his body to launch across the area, arcing himself around another swinging back. His foot gracefully finds its place on another pole before he leans against the wall where the red dot is. As he does the voice speaks up again "Level 1 complete, cancellation unlocked for fifteen seconds" It then goes quiet as the room lowers him back to the floor to become flat all around once again. He sighs gently as the test has yet to wind him. He must do this on a regular basis to not yet be tired. "Ten seconds" He began to walk to the center of the room again where he took his place for the next test. "Five...four...three... two ... one... Cancellation option deactivated... Simulation beginning..Level 2: Aggressor Phase 1: Evasion"

His visor went black once again just before multiple squares popped up to reveal small mechanical arms covered in some sort of flesh analog. These dummies began to attack him at random. For a full minute he flowed smoothly through them as they attacked, never once even being touched by the fast moving human representations. Despite their efforts to reach out and grab him, he always seemed to be just out of their reach. "Level 2: Phase 2: Defense" Suddenly his arms unlock and the dummies surround him. His eyes still covered in a black screen he relies on his ears. One moved in from behind, in a blinding motion he shifts his stance just enough to grab hold of the arm and twist to throw the mechanical creature toward the other side of the ring, causing them to scatter slightly. In the same motion he turns and steps forward in a stomp kick. It catches the dummy directly in the chest and sends it flying across the room. His foot instantly swings back to a solid fighting stance, shifting so he was once again centered in the ring of enemies. "Level 2: Phase 3: Assault" Johan took the instruction instantly as one of the three remaining attempt to punch him from behind. A simple tilt of his head put the things arm in the perfect position, grabbing hold of it he twists the wrist in a very specific motion causing a slight recorded crack to be heard. The sensor in the things wrist being calibrated to that of the pressure a human wrist could take, the sound telling when the wrist was broken. He turns and pulls on the things wrist forcing it to go with him. The motion ends in a throw which capsizes the remaining units. "Level 2 complete... cancellation unlocked for fifteen seconds..." Johan sighs lightly and reaches out only to find a bottle of water on top of a raised pillar "Ten seconds" He sets the water down only for it to disappear back into the floor. "Five...Four.." His phone goes off, causing him to pull it out of his pocket and look down at the message "three.." He nods a little at it trying to think about what he might know about the subject "Two..." He looks up "Cancel, save progress. Calibrate Intensity, fifty percent increase in difficulty." "Challenge canceled.. Progress Saved... Intensity increased by Fifty percent." Suddenly his legs and arms get heavier, but he doesn't seem to notice the increased weight.

Quickly typing back on his phone he sends a response back "I might.. If I remember correctly there was word of little Hannah Lefei going missing. Their family has been at odds with the Van Stoon's for decades. I wouldn't be surprised to hear the Van Stoon's actually did kidnap the girl. They believe that the Lefei's family heir loom is actually their's. It is a completely fact-less claim but they fight tooth and nail for that thought. This could be a play to get them to hand over the blade." The Lefei's heir loom was a jeweled knife. "Why? Are you looking for the girl? Hannah is a great kid, full of curiosity and will power."

"Morgan!" she heard her sister Chelsie say as she shot the straw wrapper at her face. Morgan let out a light laugh, covering her mouth as Chelsie tried unsuccessfully glare at her younger sister. The girl shook her head as a smile started appearing on her face, causing the dark brown curls to move back and forth. "You can never be serious, can you?" she asked as she dipped a mozzarella stick into the sauce in the center of the table, taking a bite and eyeing Morgan.

Morgan's laughing died down, her smile faltering slightly, but she looked down at her plate and picked up her fork, stabbing it into a pasta noodle and taking a bite, shrugging in response to Chelsie. Swallowing her bite, she smiled at her sister. "I can be serious when it's needed, Chels... It's just that.." she trailed off, looking out the window of the restaurant into the streets of Class 2. Biting her lip, she shrugged again, "I don't know, okay? Why do you have to ask questions about this anyway? I was just messing around with the straw wrapper. I didn't know this had to be a serious lunch date."

Chelsie leaned her back against the booth and sighed, running her hands through her hair. "It doesn't have to be a serious lunch date. Now before you get all snappy at me, calm yourself. Can't I just take my sister out to lunch and not have to see her temper so soon?" she smiled back at Morgan, and the tension disappeared. "Now what have you been doing since I haven't been around?"

"Not much, just being out and about with my friends, you know.. the usual." Morgan said casually, watching some people leave the restaurant, chattering happily amongst each other and cross the street to their vehicle. The week had lightened up, compared to what had happened in the beginning at the Broken Tooth. She hadn't returned there since, and she spoke nothing of what had happened to her parents when she had managed to get home that evening. She brought up nothing about the man who had tried to get a little close and personal with her, nothing about the weird group of people she had sat with, and nothing about the cops coming in.

She had almost choked on her breakfast the next morning when her parents were discussing the actual event at the Broken Tooth though at the table. Apparently word had spread pretty quick, and it was hard to look at her dad when he asked her if she knew anything about that when she was out, she could only shake her head. Setting her thoughts aside to ponder later, she pointed her fork at Chelsie before speaking up. "How are things with you, Chels? How's the new job?"

"Fine and dandy, actually. But nothing has happened that I would tell you about, I know you find it boring." The sisters laughed, and a waitress showed up to asked if they would like their drinks refilled, and they obliged, thanking her as she did and left to tend to her other tables.

"No, please. You can tell me about it. I haven't heard much from you lately, I'd like to know what's been keeping you out of my hair." Morgan joked, making Chelsie laugh and start her stories about her job and whatnot, all the while Morgan kept picking at her pasta, listening and nodding with it. In truth, she really did find it boring, but to see her sister lit up and passionate about something like this was good to see.

She was having a perfectly great day when the bastard of a detective decided to appear.

Why. Why. Why.

Juliette crossed her arms gruffly over her chest, narrowing her eyes and exhaling through her teeth. A fog appeared before her lips, evaporating into the chilling night air. Juliette suddenly felt uncomfortable in her scantily clad skin. No, she was always uncomfortable, even if she wasn't scantily clad. She shuffled from one heeled foot to another, her eyes darting awkwardly from side to side as Adrian appraised her legs. She pressed an ivory skinned thumb against her crimson lips, staring pointedly at a pile of homeless. Go away, go away, go away.

“Have you heard any rumors about a missing Class 1 girl being held somewhere in Class 3?”

Emerald eyes flicked upwards, burning through Adrian's dark orbs. "No." She pursed her lips.

That was a lie, of course. She did know of a girl being held in Class Three but she was annoyed and she was gruff when she was annoyed, and terribly uncooperative. "I didn't need your help," she mumbled. "She's with the Black Bands," she said with a sigh. What did she care about a stupid démon child? Absolutely nothing. But she wasn't overly cruel and she didn't enjoy suffering. The Black Bands were the rivals of the Crimsons, after all. Well, everyone was the rival of the Crimsons. Nobody liked them and they didn't like anyone. Their abundance of soldier-like, secret services trained gang members didn't help their popularity either. She was in charge of all outside operations: the raids, kills, captures. Anything related to combat, really.

"If anything happens to me, you're their new alpha," the Crimsons' leader had said.

Juliette felt a pang of guilt for not being where she was meant to be but she couldn't give this life up. She couldn't not sell herself. That was a part of her, that was all she was good for. Not to mention the Crimsons were utterly against the abuse of drugs and she needed it. Needed the way they made her forget, disconnected her from herself, from the world.

From the pain.

"I'm not having a drunk and high commander on my battlefield," their leader - Jose - had told her sternly. "You stay clean or you're back on the streets, Jewel."

Sorry, boss, she thought guiltily.

Realising she'd been staring at Adrian the whole time for much too long, Juliette dropped her gaze. "I'm not taking you to them," she said, not too convincingly. She knew where the Black Bands were but she was a code red, they would shoot her on the spot. No, the sadistic crazies wouldn't shoot her. They would tear her apart and break her down first. Juliette flinched at the memory of the man who'd left her for dead, the man the Crimsons had saved her from. Not to mention she'd be calling for a war between the Black Bands and Crimsons. "They're underground," she said slowly, slashing at her arm with her nails. It was another bad habit of hers, her entire existence was a bad habit. "Beneath Roots," she said. Roots was a 'club' of sorts. Well, as good as Class Three clubs got. At least their women were beautiful. Okay, she'd admit she danced and sang there on occasion. But that was all.

"Well, crap seeing you and all that. Bye," she said hastily, turning on her heel. "Oh," she said with a pause, looking over her shoulder at Adrian. "The Black Bands are being paid a fortune to keep her, or so I hear. Good luck getting her back," she said. Then, gazing up at the pale moon, she whispered quietly, "You'll need it."

Juliette walked hastily, knowing she owed Adrian more than she would ever be able to pay back, unless she did this. Unless she embarked on this suicide mission to retrieve some little démon child. She knew she could get into Roots, knew she could request an audience with the Black Bands, knew their leader had offered to buy her off of Crimson's hands, knew he wanted her and still did. But she couldn't, she hated him. He was the one that had broken her to the brink of death and she would've died had Jose not taken her in. She hated him with every fibre of her being and more than that, she feared him. He was the worst of her nightmares, next to her father.

Still, did being born of Class One make this child any more evil than an unlucky child born of Class Three? What were they doing with her? She, unfortunately, could imagine. She'd been in the same predicament - except they didn't need to keep her alive. She wasn't a hostage - she was fun. Dessert. Juliette groaned, hating what she was about to do. She turned around, taking a deep breath and heading towards the detective even when her mind screamed for her to run away. Her heart wasn't listening; neither were her legs, apparently.

She took Adrian's hand in hers and began walking towards the club - the gang's headquarters - without another word. She walked, hating every step, but knowing she'd hate herself more than she already did if she didn't help this child. "After this, I owe you nothing."

After this, I might be dead.

"I'm going to kill that drugged up little excuse of a person." Alexander said to is head of security whilst they drank there cups of coffee. "When I find her I am going to torture the drugs straight out of her, if she comes back take away all of her drugs and shove her into one of the holding cells. I'll be there to see her in a few hours. I don't care what you do to her in the mean time as long as there are no permanent marks." Alexander explained with a hint of anger and a hint of sadness.

Alexander stood up and walked toward his elevator down to his car, he stopped by a trash can and downed the rest of his coffee. Before he was finished with it his two best guards were standing by the elevator ready to protect him. "Lets go." Alexander said while beckoning for the larger of the two security guards to press the button down to his car park. When they got down Alexander walked out and saw his hundreds of cars he had every thing from a 1969 corvette to cars so new they didn't even have official names yet. Alexander was feeling fancy as he always did when traveling to class three so he had a stretch limo pull up that could fit a twenty people inside of it. "We know were the crimsons live now right Dan?" Alexander said to the man opening the door for him. "Yes sir, we still don't have a leader, but with your money it shouldn't be to hard to bribe one of them to rat out the leader." Dan said. "No, I want that damn girl who got away from Mac." Alexander snapped at Dan. Dan nodded and shut the door. They were off to the gang district.

When they arrived and Alexander stepped out he could feel the eyes on him, the lust and the envy. He walked forward his two bodyguards following suit. One man stepped forward he was definitely one of the crimsons. "What are you doing here, this is our turf." he said whilst a small crowd began to come around each and every one of them part of the crimsons. "I'm looking for a girl. She is second in command to your gang and very french." Alexander said looking at each and every one of them. The group came out to about 10. "We don't know nothing about no french girl." one said. Alexander twitched once he hated bad grammar, especially double negatives. He walked up to the one who said it and grabbed him by the dirty shirt collar and head butted him straight on the nose, blood squirted forth which Alexander side stepped. His men were already on top of the two guys that were armed with guns. One came at him with a knife, he grabbed the man by the wrist and popped the mans elbow out of the socket. He grabbed the knife as it dropped and shoved it straight into the mans eye socket. He spun around with a side kick knocking one man into the next. His two bodyguards drew their knifes and began cutting threw the gangs men. Within a minute all of the crimsons were dead but one. Alexander was drenched in blood and loving it. He bent down a grabbed the last man alive and asked calmly, "Were is the French girl?" The men pissed him self and said, "She should be with that cop." Alexander then shoved the man to the ground and stomped on his head and watched the blood flow forward. Alexander then walked the few blocks to the station and walked inside with a smile on his face. He knew the girls face and he would find her soon enough. "Were is Adrian?" Alexander asked flashing a large sum of money.

The week had been useless, Colby felt useless. He hadn’t located another job yet. Correction; he had located places with help wanted signs, however his interviewing abilities sucked a bucket of dead sea cod in a thick cheese sauce. He always grew nervous when it came time to actually speak as part of the interview process, as a result he stuttered horribly. Colby knew he had been lucky to land the job he had, but now he realized just how much luck had been involved. Luck that eluded him this whole past week.

Colby wound up doing what he could, busking in the park. It was a public park, and he found a spot that had decent traffic, but out of the way enough to not cause a jam. He had his keyboard, portable stand, and a small folding stool to sit on. His tip jar was an empty gallon water jug with a slit for tips to be dropped into. The whole thing was then secured with a rope tied around it, and the other end was tethered to his shoe. This wasn’t his first time busking.

Colby had experienced people who ‘dipped’, meaning they made it look like they were leaving a tip, when they were actually taking money out. Then there were the outright thieves who took the hat or bowl and ran with it. This was the best way he had discovered to keep whatever tips he managed to draw. It was another reason to find legitimate work in the music field so he didn’t have to busk, but he suspected there’d be a lot more subtle stealing he’d have to contend with then.

At least the weather was nice. It meant more people would be out and about, and the park was always a populated place when it was sunny. Colby liked the keyboard, but he didn’t rely too heavily on the electrical components, preferring the actual piano sound. Real pianos however were neither cheap, nor portable. He warmed up with a little ditty, nothing remarkable and certainly not memorable. His real niche was likely closer to classical than anything else. Colby played what he felt. He knew he could make more money playing what was ‘popular’, and he did that when he had a gig, but this? This was something else entirely.

Colby let his fingers caress the keys, focusing on the sound of every little press. A smile crossed his face and warmth flooded his blue eyes. It wasn’t hard at all to become lost in the music. It had always been a way to express himself, a way that didn’t involve stuttering or anxious breaths in some vain attempt to just talk normally. This was music. This was his soul. This was … everything.

And oh, how he played.

Adrian wasn’t a man who believed in fate. In fact, the very idea of it sickened him. It was a cop out for people who did not see the horrors of life to use when describing them. The old “It was meant to be” phrase is used for more in the upper classes than Class 3. At one point, Adrian might have considered himself religious, but as the years passed it belief grew harder and harder. While he never officially surrendered his faith, he hadn’t thought about it in years, either.

Running into Juliette was just a coincidence. Receiving a text from a friend at the station that read You wouldn’t happen to have pissed off any Keepers lately, right? moments after running into Juliette was again, coincidence.

Juliette was turning out to be a fascinating creature, Adrian realized. Her emerald eyes seemed to be brighter every time he saw them, and she seemed to have a habit of showing them off. Surely throughout her time on the street her eyes have been complimented heavily, and maybe she unconsciously developed the habit of showing them off. Her first response was a lie, of course. Adrian would have been surprised if she began with the truth. Her pride was probably hurt by Adrian rescuing her from that thug. No doubt she could have handled it on her own, and had Adrian known it was Juliette he was dealing with at the time he might have let her. Discovering that the scantily dressed whore was Juliette was just as surprising to him as it probably was to Juliette when she realized she had been thrown back into the path of the detective.

After finally coming clean, the woman seemed to lose herself in thought for a while. Adrian had trouble telling whether or not she was staring at him or into the void of some memory or another. The Black Bands, huh? Maybe a sit down would be nice. Of course, no it really wouldn’t. There would be no sitting down with their leader, Hugo Dar. Adrian had put away more of their hierarchy than he wish he had, at the moment. Out of all the gangs in Class 3, it was probably the Bands that hated him the most. It was a smart move by this Van Stoon character, should Johan’s theory prove correct. If Adrian’s reputation had grown, it wouldn’t have been a stretch to predict he’d be put onto the case. It wouldn’t take much bribery money either to get enough information on Adrian to realize who his enemies were. Naturally, you’d want to hire the gang that hates the cop who’d be working against you the most to hold the girl. That’s a shame. Adrian was hoping Von Stoon to be as idiotic as his name.

With a frank good bye, which sounded from Juliette as if she were expecting never to see him again, at least alive, she started to walk away. Adrian didn’t bother going after her. Instead, he simply finished his cigarette and tried to decide on a plan. His job was to save the girl. Juliette had confirmed that she was there with the Black Bands, which meant Adrian had two options: 1. A stealthy approach. He’d sneak in, find her, and sneak out. The pro was that if execute perfectly he would avoid bloodshed. The con was really the challenge. There weren’t many ways in and out of the place, and all of them would be well guarded. There would most likely be a sewer or air vent entrance somewhere, but even if he managed to get to the girl sneaker back out with her would be next to impossible. On his own, this would never work. If he had a distraction, then maybe. 2. A fuckall kill all approach. As the title suggests, Adrian would make a quick visit to his home where he would load up on all the things he owns that make the largest booms. With all these large boom makers equipped, Adrian would proceed to blast the ever living hell out of everything in his way to the girl. The pro was in the plan’s simplicity. The con, it meant guaranteed death for both him and the girl. It’s always shame when a con like death gets in the way of a good plan.

Juliette did something unexpected, though. She turned around and walked back, taking Adrian’s hand into hers. It had been a long time since he had held a woman’s hand. It was a feeling he had very much missed. Juliette’s far softer, more delicate fingers felt nice to Adrian’s rougher ones. She began to pull him in a direction, towards the club where the Black Bands were, and whispered that after this she owed him nothing. Adrian simply replied, “I know.”

Adrian did not expect this bit of honor from her, but at the same time he would not deny it, either. For what he saw in Juliette then was the answer to the problem with his plan to use stealth: a distraction. She wasn’t armed, at least not with anything she couldn’t hide somewhere in what little she was wearing. Adrian wouldn’t be surprised if there was a knife hidden somewhere. But even with that, she did not have enough to assume she was expecting to walk into a fight, which meant she was expecting to talk. Adrian would let her. And while she talked, he’d find the girl. In his jacket was a suppressor for his pistol, which meant he could stealthily kill, but he also had a knife to that effect.

Of course, this matter with the Keepers was still on the back of Adrian’s mind. With his free hand, not wanting to stop holding hands with Juliette considering he was more comfortable than he actually wished he were, Adrian responded to the text from his friend at the station, mentioned the Keepers. Not that I know of.

Almost immediately, he got a reply, One of the higher ups, maybe even their fucking leader, is looking for you man. He’s covered in blood. Apparently he cut down some Crimsons earlier.

Adrian replied, Thanks for the heads up. Delete these texts. He cut down some Crimsons? Adrian looked at Juliette. Replaying their entire time together, a few things started to make some sense. That woman, Mac, the one on meth…she never did explain herself, yet she showed interest in taking Juliette away. Now a high positioned Keeper shows up at the station covered in the blood of Crimsons, the gang Juliette’s connected to. It just smelled fishy, and Adrian’s detective senses were going off like crazy.

There were some decisions to be made, and quickly at that. Regardless of what Juliette’s connection to all this was, it would not be long before the Keepers figured out just where Adrian was, which was not a good thing. A guy covered in blood isn’t looking for a friendly chat. Whatever this Keeper wanted to talk about, Adrian didn’t like not having any kind of upper hand. He had to know more about what was going on before he’d deal with this Keeper. But at the same time, if they didn’t go after the missing girl now, there might not be another chance. Adrian could save himself and Juliette, but in doing so could very well condemn the girl. Still, even if they did manage to save the girl, chances are the Keepers would be waiting for them just on the outside of the club by then. In the end, Adrian decided there was nothing which could be done for the girl at that time. They had to run, at least until Adrian could gather some information on what the hell the Keepers wanted with him. It meant leaving Class 3, and the only person that could manage that was Johan. So Adrian sent one more text.

Johan, something’s wrong. Keepers are after me. I think Juliette’s involved, somehow. None of my Class 3 hide-outs will work. Need access to Class 2. Please, help. Heading to the gate now.

Adrian trusted that by the time he and Juliette had gotten to the gate, Johan would have thought of something. If he didn’t, at best they’d be turned away, at worst arrested. If they were turned away, it just meant more running than hiding. There were a few places Adrian had set up should he ever need to disappear, but that was only when thinking about running from one of the Class 3 gangs. Such places wouldn’t last long against a group with the resources of the Keepers.

Halting them, Adrian turned around and started to walk back towards the car, pulling Juliette with him. “Change of plans, doll. We’ve got to go. Apparently, the Keepers are looking for me, and I have reason to believe they want you too. We’ve got to leave Class 3. Hopefully, Johan will help us do that. Remember? The guy who’s shirt you liked?”

They got into the car and Adrian began to drive as quickly as he could for the gate. Even at top speeds it would take about an hour to get there. The entire way, while talking to Juliette, Adrian kept a watchful eye in his mirrors. The car he was driving was loaded to the teeth with various guns. Should a few very out of place vehicles appear in any of his mirrors, this trip could get very interesting, very fast. There was one saving grace that Adrian could probably count on, though: his chief. While the chief wasn’t exactly a beacon of justice due to having taken money from just about everyone in Class 3 up to no good, probably from the Keepers as well, he was not a man to be bullied or intimidated, and would see this Keeper’s barging in covered in blood as an attempt to do just that. The chief would, hopefully, give the Keeper a hard time before finally spilling all the details. Adrian could only hope.

"This is kidnapping," Juliette hissed, crossing her arms over her chest and crossing her long legs over Adrian's dashboard in hopes of annoying him. She held the music device Johan had given her, giving the detective a scalding look. "This was not a part of the plan. Besides, what do Keepers have to do with me and what makes you think they want me, anyway? I'm just a lowly class three prostitute," she said the last part with sarcastic malice.

Her music device - also a communicator, apparently - began to ring. She had the same ringtone for everyone, which she changed on a day to day basis. Today it was'Love Me Dead' by Ludo, it was a song she was fond of and could relate to. Though, perhaps not in the way the writer had intended as it reminded her of the men who'd used and abused her. Her father, his clients. Juliette tapped on the slim screen - Keenan was calling - and put the device to her ear begrudgingly. Keenan was a notorious playboy with a face much too beautiful for one with as wretched a personality as himself. She disliked him. Then again, she disliked a lot of things.

"What?" she snapped.

"Oh god, Juliette. He just, they were, he, we, dammit Juliette! He was looking for you and they refused to talk and he just- He just," Keenan said before choking on his words. He was breathing heavily, his voice raspy and heavy, as if he'd just run a marathon. Perhaps he had.

"Woah, woah. Slow down, pretty boy. What are you talking about?" Juliette asked, chancing a glance at Adrian and shrugging to say she didn't know what the person on the other end was on about and that Adrian shouldn't... Worry or whatever it was he did.

"The Keepers, Jewel. The Keepers are after you," Keenan whispered.

"Wait, what?" Juliette mumbled, clutching the device to her ear. "What do you mean they're after me? How do they even know who I am? Why? How did they-"

"I don't know why but you bloody hell had better not betrayed us," Keenan hissed, his previous anxiety now replaced with spite. "They came for you, Chateau," he said. "And they killed every last one of them to find you."

"Killed who?" Juliette asked, although she already knew the answer.

"The Crimsons. Caius," Keenan said, barely whispering the last word. Juliette held the phone so tightly she feared she would crush her fingers against the metal but her hands were numb, all of her was.

"Caius?" she echoed. Caius was an old friend, the closest thing that had ever come to a best friend. He and her had... History. He'd refused to sleep with her once, saying he didn't want a relationship in which she only loved him because she felt she had to.

"The Keeper asked them where you were. 'The French girl.' Caius and them defended you to the death," Keenan said, the blame evident in his voice. "One of us finally gave you up."

"Did- Did anyone..."

"No."

The device slipped from her hands and the line went dead. Juliette stared, wide eyed, at the road ahead, clutching her thin and short skirt as her body trembled. No tears came, none ever did. "Stop the car," she whispered. "Stop the car!" she said with more conviction, her head snapping around to glare at Adrian as if he was the cause of all her problems. Yes, anger. Anger she could cope with. "Let me out," she growled before turning to the door, ripping at the handle. She jerked her body backwards trying to open the door but it was all but locked. "I need to save them. I need to save him," she said frantically. They're dead, Juliette. No they're not. "Stop the car! Let me out! He needs me, he needs me."

Juliette quickly snatched her phone from where it had fallen, scrolling through her contacts. He'd said his number was here, it was here. It was here. Yes, it was. Juliette clicked on his name, pressing the device to her ear. "Johan, Johan, Johan. You need to get them. You need to find them. The Keepers are trying to kill them." They haven't succeeded yet. No, not yet not yet. "They're looking for me and you need to- I need to- Let me out of this goddamned car, Adrian!" she yelled, ripping at the door handle once again. "He needs me, Johan. We have kids and they don't know- Oh god, oh god. You need to send your Class One forces or whatever the hell it is you have. Bloody hell, open!" she shouted. Juliette slammed her fist into the glass, kicking at the door and pounding her fist on it. "What the hell, Adrian? Is this bullet-proof glass?" she hissed, shaking out her now bloody fist. "Okay, okay, listen, Johan. Caius. He's tall, about 6'2". Hazel eyes, olive skin. 23. He's left-handed and he likes to wear old hoodies. His favourite's the red one with 'Crimsons' written in black. You need to get him, Johan. And little Mikey. You need to get Mikey. He's 9 and oh god, I forgot his birthday present." Juliette was babbling, digging her nails into the edges of the car door and pulling furiously at it. A whimper escaped her lips.

Juliette pulled her legs to her chest, resting her head against her knees and wrapping her arms around herself. "My fault, my fault, my fault," she whispered repeatedly. Juliette raked her fingers through her sun-streaked hair and pulling at it. "They're dead," she choked, pressing her palms to her eyes. "They're alive, they're dead." Juliette dug her nails into her arm, clutching her knees to her chest.

It wasn’t that Adrian didn’t want to let her out of the car to help whoever it was she was going on about, but at the same time it wasn’t like he wanted to abandon that Class 1 girl, either. Juliette’s phone call had only confirmed his suspicions, and fact of the matter is despite the decent number of weapons and ammunition underneath the back seat, there was nothing they could do at this point. A detective and a whore do not an army make.

The prospect of simply letting her go troubled him, but not too much. While he had come to consider Juliette more than just a gang prostitute, she wasn’t his friend. He didn’t think so, at least. It sort of dawned on him that he was now risking his life and career for this woman. The detective hoped to not involve Johan beyond getting them through the gate. With Juliette calling frantically like this, Johan may feel more needed, and that damn doctor would put his career on the line for something like this too. If Johan fell through though, that complicated things. There were a few smugglers tunnels that led into the Class 2, but it had been so long since Adrian had seen them it would be a gamble to think that by now they weren’t blocked up or being watched.

It was more than risking his personal being for Juliette, though, Adrian would admit. He had wanted an excuse to investigate the Keepers, anyway. Worst case scenario, he uses Juliette as a bargaining chip, somehow, especially if she kept up this kind of ingratitude. Obviously the girl was bat shit crazy, but a thank you would still be appreciated sometime.

For now, they had to head towards Class 2. From there, once at a safe house, Adrian planned on checking out the Keeper headquarters. They wanted Juliette, so as long as he kept her hidden, he could use her to get out of whatever kind of danger he comes across. It was a chance he might not have again. And it wasn’t like he’d just give her up or anything. But it also wasn’t like he wouldn’t.

Still, seeing her upset like this troubled Adrian on some level. Comforting wasn’t really in Adrian’s nature, but he had to try and calm her down, at least. Reaching out and putting a hand on Juliette’s shoulder, Adrian said, “We’ve got to figure this out before we do anything. For now, that means getting out of Class 3.” Adrian put his hand back on the steering wheel. “I know where we can be safe. And if you have any idea why they might be after you, it couldn’t hurt to tell me.”

The most unfortunate thing about the vehicle they were riding in was the locator chip that Adrian had forgotten to take off. It was underneath the car and quite easy to disable, but there was nothing he could do about it for now. Besides, it’d look sketchier if he showed up at the gate with it deactivated. But if they decided to make for one of the tunnels, he’d have to take it off. If the Keepers were at the police station, finding Adrian wouldn’t be hard at all.

"What kind of balls do you have to come walking into my station covered in blood asking for the location of one of my cops!" a slightly overweight man yelled from behind a counter his veins looking as if they would burst at any second. Suddenly there were at least fifteen handguns pointed at Alexander and his men. "Sir, I think I recognize this guy he's one of the richest men in the world Andres or something." One said from behind the barrel of a .45. "That man would be correct and this bag of money to whomever has the location of... what was his name uh Adrian that's it Adrian." The overweight man snagged the bag of money and began counting it out. "Alright come over to the computer if he hasn't disabled the tacker on his car we can tell you were that thing is at least." The man turned on the computer and began typing in his name and password. As the man typed Alexander took note of each keystroke figuring it would be easier than hacking in later. "Alright it looks like he is nearing the gate to class 2 and with his security pass he should be able to get through." Alexander was walking out the door dialing his phone up before the man uttered the last word. He logged into the Police network, found Adrian's tracker and uploaded it to the Keeper computer network. He then gave the order to set up a crossfire right at the gate of class 2. "Boss, what about the smuggling tunnels he could go for them right?" his larger body guard said opening the door to the limo. Alexander nodded and said, "Most of them are guarded by the police it's doubt full he knows the few that aren't and the ones that aren't are monitored by our cameras he'll get through, but well know which cameras to start looking at inside class two. She's not getting away this time." Alexander then called up one of his inside men at the telephone companies, "I need a number of one Adrian Smith." "Verification code?" the man replied. "I am not afraid of an army of lions led by a sheep, but of an army of sheep led by a lion." Alexander said in a clear voice. "Sending the number now. have a nice day."

They were now hot on the tale of Adrian's car, but with the limo there was no way they were going to catch up before he hit the gate so he would have to count on the call he was about to make to work if there was to be no police involvement. He got the signal that one of his snipers was in place the other three would be there momentarily. He figured now would be the best time to call Adrian. He dialed in the number and waited for it to pick up. He would give him the you're not involved spiel which of course wasn't true Alexander wasn't going to kill Adrian, but he'd make sure to get him fired from the force and maybe have his nails slowly ripped of with some pliers. This is going to be fun Alexander thought.