Providence of the Damned

No Condoms, huh? Amelia thought with a raised brow. That shit was a priceless luxury here. Oh well, maybe something else the girls could want, later on.

"Names Echo, and if I may ask what would be the price of this after the third time?" Said the dreadlock haired girl.

“Echo? Nice I'll remember that. Don't worry it'll be hell of a lot less then what you paid for it in the Capitol.”

That, was actually true. Where else in the Capitol did any illegal substances come from? The Providence of course. A lot of it came from Amelia herself. Yeah she supplied to the Capitol and there was a lot of mother fucking money in it to.

Of course she had to deal with those bastards that called themselves The Police, but what the fuck did she care. She could handle those fuckers and they were scared of her too as they rightfully should be. But she liked to keep it peaceable if she could. Blood shed was an unnecessary collator and dead bodies, she hated to deal with that shit. It was easier to give those bastards a bag of their choice every so often and have them turn a blind eye to her business and her more lucrative business across the borders.

Sure there was always some asshole – usually new recruits to The Police Force – that thought they were better then her and tried to give her a hard time, but she sorted those fuckers out good and proper and they never hassled her again. Though she was only twenty one, Amelia had been in this business a long time and it was good to her as long as she knew what she was doing and she did, having been born and raised in Providence.

"Thank you for this,” Said Echo as she picked up the bag “whatever I can do for you I will. I don't like owing people. By the way, what does one do around 'ere? The streets look pretty dead, the only other people I saw were at the Dividing wall getting shot at, is that normal?"

“No problem -” Amelia said and cut off as she saw her late client walk through the door, a whole Goddamn hour late. “Mother fucker” Amelia whispered furiously to herself and turned back to the girl only providing a half cut answer. “Err yeah that shits normal. Hold on I got to see to something, here have some more if you like.” Amelia said distractedly as she pushed the bottle of Scotch towards the girl and came around the counter and headed towards the sheepish looking scrawny guy that had enter.

Storming up to him she said to him in a calm but dangerous voice.

“You better have a good mother fucking reason for being Goddamn late Jeremiah.”

“I told you I'd be a little late!” The guy defended.

“A little late,” Amelia said through clenched teeth “Is five or maybe ten minutes late not a whole fucking hour!”

“Chillax would you Spark! Shit it ain't easy getting the money together you know. You're asking for a fucking fortune, I gotta hustle you know mami.” He grinned at her, his features sallow from years of drug abuse. “You got the book?”

“You got the money?”

“You know it Chica.”

She did know it. Jeremiah maybe a degenerate but the bastard always had the doe. She didn't usually care how he clients made their money as long as they paid her but she fucking hated Jeremiah's business. Bastard Pimp that he was . . . but like she said he always paid upfront and he also brought her a lot of business.

“One thousand right?” He asked playfully.

“You fucking know it was two.” She said back to him calmly.

“I'm gonna need to see the book first.” He smirked at her.

“You know Jeremiah, you're the only one that gets away with that.” Amelia said to him with a half smile as she retrieved the item in pristine condition.

“Because of my charming and debonair manner.” He said brushing his hand down his jaw.

“Fucking hardly!” Amelia chocked out a laugh as she handed him the volume “It's because you don't make me have to break any part of your body. You know how tiresome that shit is.”

He simply smiled crookedly as he examined the book.

“And you know why I always buy from you?” Jeremiah said finally looking up at Amelia, lips still curved “Because although you fucking charge a Kings ransom you always deliver the best quality shit.”

“You know it!” Amelia replied grinning back at the Cuban man “Now pay the fuck up.”

Jeremiah chuckled as he pulled a role of cash out from his pocket and began counting the notes out and handed them to Amelia. She in turn counted them to double check. She wasn't some fucking charitable push over.

“After all these years, you still don't trust me?” Jeremiah said faking hurt.

“What no fucking tip? And I don't trust anyone, as you well know.” Amelia answered as she shoved the cash into a small pocket inside her light blue denim half jacket. “Especially not customers and especially not you Jeremiah.”

“Clever girl.” He chuckled as he looked around the empty “So can I get a drink.”

“If you can pay for it, you know you can get anything.”

“Fuck that! I meant a free one.”

“Then you can fuck off.” Amelia replied with a smirk.

“Fine!” He said holding his hands up “Be like that.” and suddenly stopped when his attention was caught by the two new arrivals “And who are you two lovely ladies?” He asked in a leery voice.

“They're friends of mine.” Amelia said quickly “You stay the fuck away from them. You hear Jeremiah?”

Jeremiah turned narrowed eyes back to Amelia. Amelia raised a challenging brow back at him in return. He wouldn't fucking dare defy her.

“Alright.” He said pacifically with a nod of his head. “Until next time Chica.”

Fucking Pimps! She hated those mother fuckers. If she could save one girl from their clutches Amelia could die fucking happy. Providence was littered with the bastards. Every time she saw a girl on the corner of a street it cut her fucking deep and opened up old wounds.

No one deserved that fucking live. Being a prostitute was the lowest of the barrel even here in Providence.

She glared at Jeremiah's back until he was out of the door. Dirty bastard. She knew that if he set his eyes on a new commission he would try his utmost hardest to get the girl to work for him, but these girls were saved from the bastards grip because no one defied Amelia Sparks.

"Echo? Nice I'll remember that. Don't worry it'll be hell of a lot less then what you paid for it in the Capitol.”

Echo was glad to hear that but what she needed to do was get herself established here, she still wanted to know the price but Sparks just seemed to keep dodging her question "Well that is nice to know". In the City she was not just a buyer she was also a dealer, so maybe she could work something out with Sparks here.

“Err yeah that shits normal. Hold on I got to see to something, here have some more if you like.”

Looking over to the door she saw a scrawny guy come in who Sparks went over to. By the looks of things it looks like some kind of dealing but with a book? Strange she thought, she then took the bottle of scotch and filled her glass then looked over to Rouge.

"Huh? Oh. Uh, yeah I plan on sticking with you for a while. Least 'till we get on our feet. Hope ya don't mind, Echo."

She shook her head and smiled "Don't mind at all, always good to have someone else around. Im not one that likes to be alone" she said as she took a sip of her drink. The next question Rouge asked kinda took her off guard but she already knew her answer.

"Hey, Echo, have you ever killed someone?"

Echo looked to Rouge "I haven't killed anyone but after those City assholes killed my girlfriend I want revenge. I want bloody revenge for what they did and they also scarred my body which now I have to get my tattoos on my back redone. Fuckin' blokes". She felt the anger towards the City people heighten and she was serious that at this point she would kill anyone for getting revenge for Alexis.

She turned her attention back to Sparks and saw the scrawny guy looking at her "Like something you see?" she then heard what Sparks said him and made him leave. She took a sip of her drink then looked to Sparks "That guy seems like he is full of himself, one of the reasons why I wrote off the male species in my book. So was wondering, do you ever have people work under you. Oh and do you have somewhere I could take some hits"she looked down at her bag, she wasn't one to take her hits in front of others but if it was allowed here she would because right now her head was pounding and she really need to take her hits if she was going to make it through the day.

Punk smirked a bit at the girl across from him. "Oh, I'm not accusing. I already know that you're a kink." He said with a laugh. He quite enjoyed this banter, though she was making it quite difficult to not be a complete and utter pig. "You seem to like the bondage I've given you." He said with a small wink. In truth, he had only taped her arm so she wouldn't get hurt, but it was still a nice joke.

"I can train you a bit in the arts, if you'd like. I'm the leader of the arts division here at Code Black." He said, maybe showing off just a little bit. He turned his neck to expose the tattoo there of an open mouth with vines coming out of it. "I designed that puppy right there." He said, and then turned his head to look at her again. "Awh, but my story is so boring compared to your's. You'll probably fall asleep listening to it." Punk watched as Trick mirrored his pose, and he smirked a bit, leaning forward just a bit and whispering. "Me thinks that the trickster is mocking me." He said, then leaned back against the wall, stretching his legs out and resting them on either side of the girl in front of him as his hand went to his lower lip to tug at the ring a bit as he thought.

"Well, I had this girlfriend when I was in the city. She and I were pretty close, so y'know, I started drawing things for her and writing songs for her because, what can I say, I'm a bit of a sap. I did all of that, and I brought her to this underground place where I was teaching an art class on Tuesday's and a music class on Thursdays. I had made sure that it was a place no one else went." Punk paused, sighing sadly, a far away look in his eyes. "Well, it turned out that she was a spy of sorts for the government... shattered my heart a bit." Punk paused and lifted his shirt, exposing a tattoo on his chest of a heart that, if you looked closely, once had letters inside it, but was now covered in inked on cuts and scars and blood. He put his shirt back down after a moment. "Anyways, she dumped me before I knew she was a spy, and then one day, the cops come busting down my door. That's when I figured it out." Punk looked down at his fingernails, cleaning the dirt out from under them as he awaited a response of some sort.

How right he is...

"Perhaps a bit. Not as much as you enjoyed wrapping it, though." Trick chuckled. She absentmindedly messed with her gauges-one of her eyebrows still perked in a challenging stare. Leader of the arts division? Impressive. Wait, this place has divisions? Shit, I've obviously been misled. Could this place get any better? Hot guys, a working system, a little action here and there. Not bad. Hell of a lot more interesting than the "Perfect" hive. He had offered to instruct her in the arts, and she was more than pleased. A1A: It was more time she could spend having laughs with him. B2B: It was something she had always wanted to do.

"Dude, that looks mad nice. Props." Trick nodded in approval, studying the detail of the tattoo. I wonder if he has any other tattoos... Her focus was brought back to him when he began introducing his story. She truly was interested, and she shrugged off his comment about her falling asleep. When he pointed out her position, she lifted her eyebrow higher for a second.

"Perhaps I am. Not like you're going to do anything about it." Trick mused, not flinching when he put his legs on either side of her. Next the young punk started to fidget with his lip ring again. Shit. Does he realize how distracting that is? Eventually she was able to tear her eyes away from the ring and meet his. She was right, his story was way more interesting than he had given himself credit for. Betrayed by someone that close? Ouch... Trick had a hard time trusting people for the very same reason. She had been betrayed once, and she took time to really trust people since then. That's when her no-strings-attached policy started, something that she still kept up with. But even still, she could feel his pain.

"Damn, that's cold. I'm sorry dude. I can only imagine how that must've stung." Her voice was softer now, she sure wasn't great at talking about emotions, but she gave an effort. He even tattooed her name.. Shit. Poor guy. Normally Trick would have studied a man's body a bit more when he lifted his shirt, but she didn't really pay attention to it when Punk lifted his. He was connecting to her on an emotional level, and she couldn't care less about sex at that moment.

Trick lifted her legs up in between his, resting her shoes on the edge of the cot he was resting on. She left her bandaged arm limp at her left, but she soon repositioned her right arm to rest on her knuckles again. "People suck, what can we do?" Her smile faded into a firm line. She watched him play with his fingernails, she understood his reason for avoiding eye contact. "I mean, I suppose there's revenge, but hey; you already got that. You're here, you can be free to do what you love. That bi-" Trick stopped herself short, she didn't want to offend him. "That chick's just going to lead a meaningless life from the 9 to 5 everyday. She'll be suppressing everything that could bring her joy, and she'll have to live with the fact that she missed out on a hell of a guy." Trick nudged his leg with her foot, brightening her expression and attempting to get him to smile again. "Plus, it's a win for me. I get an awesome art teacher now. Speaking of which, where is your art shrine?" Trick joked, she didn't want him to dwell on bad feelings, and she had at least one good arm-she must be able to do something.

Shit... it still hurts...

There was a burning in his chest, and Punk began to scratch at his heart a bit, leaning his head against the wall. "Thing is... I... she was the only girl that I was... y'know, with." Punk sighed and looked at Trick as she kept trying to cheer him up. It just wasn't gonna work right now. His chest was a bit tight right now, still burning like he had just ate a bag of salt. "She's still the only thing tthat inspires my work, y'know." He scoffed at himself. "Just a little pathetic, I know. Only things I draw, paint, or sculpt or anything like that is something to do with the way she made me feel or how I feel now. Or music. And then my music is all dark or reminiscent now."

He sighed once again and looked at the girl across from him, studying her features, trying to see how much exactly he could trust her. His "shrine" of art held his most private pieces. He didn't teach iin there. But then he remembered about her shoulder, so it wasn't like they could go there anyways. His ice blue eyes were still thinking when Eagle came over. "Alright, what have we got here?" He asked. Punk turned his gaze to Eagle. "Her name's Trick. She got shot in the shoulder. She'll need it to be stitched up." Eagle turned to the girl and looked at her shoulder. "Yepp. You got pretty lucky it didn't hit anything else." He said to her. Punk turned to Trick. "This is Eagle. He's the lead healer here. He'll patch up your shoulder in no time. He's trustworthy." He said with a small smirk. "Ready for me to fix you up?" Eagle asked Trick, waiting for yer answer.

Shit, this kid is messed up. I'd like to have a few words with that fucking bitch... He poured his heart out to her and she could just turn off her emotions like that? How could some be so vile... Sure, be a spy and ship him here, fine. But take his virginity along with it? Who the fuck does she think she is? Trick was so lost in her own emotions that she didn't react quickly when he called himself pathetic. She had only caught it after he was talking about his music.

"Punk, listen." Her back straightened, and she laid a hand on his leg that was positioned to her right. "You're not pathetic. And that doesn't mean that you won't find another muse. You just have to-" Suddenly another person made his way over to the pair. "What have we got here?" Trick turned around slowly-it was more difficult when half of your body was covered in tape. The boy had a scraggly and rough look to him. He was nicely built, but he didn't compare much to Punk at all.

"He's trustworthy." Punk said, smirking. With all due respect Punk, I'll have to decide that for myself... Trick looked up at Eagle again, nodding twice. "Yeah. I'm supposing it will hurt like a bitch, no?" As tough as she acted, she wasn't a huge fan of pain. Her eyes flashed briefly with worry, but she did her best to mask it.

"Patch me up, doc. That is, if you can get this tape off of me first."

---

"Heartless, I'm-" He knew his partner too well, and she shoved him onto another cot. But the boy was just as stubborn and sat up with a defiant grin. "I can walk, Heartless. We can head to HQ." Poet more than overheard the conversation. He remembered when Heartless brought Punk in, and they heard his story when the boy finally opened up. Poet leaned in to Punk, whispering in his ear. "Eagle's on a run, but Bluebird can check on Trick's wound. Stay safe, Punk." Poet let his voice tell the boy the double meaning. With a salute to Punk, Heartless wrapped her arm under his armpit and helped him out of the theatre. "Damnit, Heartless, you bitch." Her punch to his gut was deserved but still hurt; he even coughed up blood. The look she gave him was worse than the punch. "You cannot sacrifice your health for looking tough for the Newbs. You'll be limping for days, and Tre has you on a permanent hit list. Eagle will need weeks of reconcile drugs, which could have gone to our druggies, to make Tre civil. We're going to have to drain Belle, and rid our library for Sp-"

"We will not!" He yelled with a step away. The pain that shot through his leg caused him to tumbled into the alley nearby. Heartless was by his side in minutes. "We can't, Heartless." Poet whimpered. Poet didn't have a problem with Spark, she was honestly a badass who even the cops feared, he hated the Damned.

Bad memories were something Heartless knew well. She just locked them in the back of her head when she saved Poet. "I'm sure she won't mind leaving Damned for a drug deal as big as we do. These druggies we have can help us break down the wall." By the time they started talking again, Glass was tending to the bullet wound, as the temporal medic while Eagle was with Trick and Bluebird was busy, and she looked over at Heartless.

"I got that covered."

---

"Lieutenant, send Mouse out to see Miss Spark." Merely a boy, the boy called Mouse, looked up from the corner. Ceasar Kennedy was hardly threatening, except for his hard, squinted eyes. Lieutenant yanked the boy towards their grotesque, sharp-chined Chief. "Mouse, this girl is hard. She could break your wrist in a heartbeat. Get her on your side, and if you come back without what we need, I wouldn't expect a warm welome." Mouse gulped very harshly. The Chief gave him a devilish grin and they shoved him back on the street, where they found him in the first place.

Mouse was one of the hundreds of kids who were born Providence citizens. The children who don't exist in the Cities. They took him in when they saw him viciously tear at some girl who was half dead when he was done. With a half-full stomach and rationalized mind, Mouse doesn't have it in him to do it again. But there he was, walking to Damned with a knife in his pocket and orders to get drugs. It was obvious that was all they used her for.

He heard rumors that she had a wonderful library, full of wonderful authors like Socrates and Plato, Shakespeare and Virgil. Mouse's mother had a copy of Twelfth Night, that he always carried in his trench coat. It was the only thing that reminded him where he was from. Then he found himself in front of Damned. The doors were closed, and he had time to create the look he needed to get on her good side. From his boot came a small dagger. He hid his trench coat in the the deep recesses of a hole in the nearby alley, and placed the boxes over it. The dagger was one of the most common found in Providence. It was easy to slice a few wounds and tell them s9omeone shanked you. It was going to hurt pretty fucking bad. He shanked himself, let the blood pour, and dragged himself inside the club. "C-can somebody help, please?" Mouse whimpered, stumbling to the floor. Looking at the table leg, he couldn't help but feel the guilt of his good acting.

---

Rose, or as she was known as in Code Black, Bullet, sat on Poet's rooftop. In her hand was a picture of her mother. She wanted to be with her mother, back in the city, fatherless but blissful. In her other hand was a pistol. She wanted to believe that if she shot herself no one would know what it was until Poet went to bed. But she knew differently. All of the leaders know the direction of a shot, and the HQ's direction. With a scream, Bullet hurtled towards the edge but stopped just short of the edge. She threw the gun down and watched it smash into the road below. A couple of people checked the source of the noise. All she did was sit on the edge of the building, feet dangling over the pavement. No one in Providence cared. People survived, and don't survive. Suicides went to body bag, and new Providencers came in. Providence was bigger than all of the Cities, half a million big. Bullet would be replaced in the Cities's mind, but she knew just as well that some in Code Black would be forlorn, funereal.

She turned over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening. It was Poet. "Rosie." He limped over to her, and she couldn't help but touch the wound gently. It still hurt him. He crouched down and sat beside, four feet dangling off the edge. There was a song, from the Days of America, that they both knew well. "Wrap up your questions, keep them down. Let the water lead us home, and I was sorry for what I’d done, when you were young, I was not old. But our story was not told, but torn apart by greedy hands."

---

Punk had watched Trick as she talked, his eyes hardened. He had already given up on loving again. He had given up on finding another muse. Anything that happened in the future would simply be harmless flirting and attraction. He wasn't even sure if he could ever be... with another woman again. He sure as hell wasn't about to try. When Poet whispered in his ear, Punk frowned slightly. He had forgotten everyone else could hear him. Punk wasn't one for drugs, but damn he could use a drink right about now. Punk sat silently the rest of the time, simply watching.

Eagle chuckled at Trick's response to him. "Well, it ain't gonna tickle, sugar." He said to her, already working with a pair of scissors to cut the tape off. "I've gotten much worse things off people. Tape should be nothing." He said to her. "Alright, you'll want to lay down and relax." When Eagle said that, Punk turned his body so that his legs were hanging off the cot but he was still sitting on it. Eagle looked questioningly at him. "Well, we want to keep the paid meds reserved for the druggies, don't we? At least this way she'll be a little more comfortable and can inflict pain on me to defer her own." He said with a small smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. He gently pulled Trick so that her chin was on one leg and her chest was on the other, and he put one arm around the small of her back in case he needed to restrain her. The other hand slipped into one of her own. "Don't be afraid to pet me know hhow much it hurts." He said with a small smile to her.

Eagle watched all of this as he got his needle and thread ready, sterilizing everything. He cleaned the wound with alcohol, knowing it would sting a bit, but it was better than letting her get an infection. He cut the back of Trick's shirt down the middle. "What are you doing?!" Punk protested. "Well, we have to have a wide enough area for me to work and after I stitch her up I have to put a bandage on her. Easier to do when I have skin to tape the bandage to." He said, and then began to do his work, the needle pushing through her skin and beginning to close the wound. Eagle kept working until the job was done, a total of 13 stitches in her shoulder. He put some cream on it so it wouldn't get infected and put the bandage on the area. "Okay, you're done." He said and went on his rounds, heading off to find Poet to help him out.

Punk leaned down to talk into Trick's ear, knowing she had to still be in pain. "Do you want to rest here for a little, or do you want to find a room and get a new shirt now?"

"Well it ain't gonna tickle, sugar." What an understatement... Trick shuddered. This is going to suck ass. Punk repositioned himself so she could lay over him, and she definitely appreciated him comforting her. Fingers laced with hers and she froze for a moment, the gesture was unexpected. His hands were coarse and toned; no doubt due to hours of practicing his art. After a few moments without moving, she finally tightened her fingers over his hand. "Don't be afraid to let me know how much it hurts."

"I'll hold you to that..." She mumbled, exhaling slowly in an attempt to steady her breathing. Alcohol was applied to her wound, and she tightened her grip on Punk's hand slightly, clenching her teeth together. A quiet hiss was released from her, she refused to let herself make any other noise. Even during surgery she refused to appear weak. The next feeling was nicer-a rush of air traveled over her back. Trick focused on the breeze instead of the pain, and she was absolutely grateful for it.

"It's alright, the breeze is nice. I will have to punch you later for ruining my shirt, but at least I still have my jacket over there. If you ruined that, I would be really pissed." Trick silently thanked whoever was listening that she hadn't worn an embarrassing bra. It wasn't anything special either, the straps visible to the two guys were just black lace. Still, she found herself again being grateful. Along her lower back one of her tattoos was now visible. It was to her right side-she remembered receiving it all too well. It's tail came just over her right shoulder, and it stood boldly against her pale skin. Trick began reminiscing to when she got the fossil done. It was just befo-Pain. The needle made its way through her flesh and it was like nothing she had felt before. She imagined it slicing through her nerve endings. Every time it pierced her shoulder she counted. Trick's eyes clenched just as tightly as she was squeezing Punk's hand, and her back arched inward. She felt the pressure of his other hand against her back-covering her other tattoo.

"Fuck..." She groaned, gritting her teeth. Thank goodness Eagle knew what he was doing. The procedure was over after a few moments, and the stabbing stopped. Cream was rubbed over her shoulder-it cooled the area of the hot pain she had just experienced. "Do you want to rest here for a little, or do you want to find a room and get a new shirt now?" Punk breathed in her ear. The patient hadn't even realized that Eagle had left them. Her breathing was ragged, and she finally noticed that she was her knuckles were white from squeezing Punk's hand. After a bit of silence, she nodded.

"Yeh, let's do that..." Trick slowly found her way to her feet-using Punk to steady her movements. She held her arms close to her body-she didn't want her shirt revealing anymore of her. "So, where is this place..?" Her voice was soft, she was still a bit dizzy from the recent events. Trick swayed a bit, almost teetering back onto the cot before she caught Punk's arm, taking advantage of his balance.

Damn, that was a strong grip.

Punk helped Trick stay standing, frowning a bit. "I really wish you would rest at least a little." He sighed and guided her hand to the cot so she would stay upright, then he pulled his own shirt over his head and gently guided it over Trick's head. He let it hang over her for a moment, then tugged at the scrap of fabric from her shirt and the front of her shirt came out from under the shirt he placed on her. With his shirt off, it revealed a tattoo on his right side, his left arm, and his back. It also revealed many scars, on his wrists, stomach, and one right above his heart, long enough to be from a knife. There were also plenty of circular burn marks along his stomach and arms. Punk put his hand through the right arm hole of the shirt and guided Trick's arm through it, then went to the other side and ever so gently and slowly he pulled the left arm through the left arm hole without jostling her shoulder too much.

"Alright, did anyone tell you who you're rooming with?" Punk asked, pulling Trick's right arm over his shoulders and wrapping his arm around her waist, gently guiding her toward the area of the rooms. He had grabbed her jacket and was carrying it in his other hand as he walked along with her. If only I didn't already have a roommate... Punk thought to himself, but he immediately dismissed the thought. He was grateful that Heartless had taken him in and let him room with her. And he hardly knew Trick. He needed to stop this kind of thought now. He knew that he was irreparable, so why would he even begin to start to lead Trick to think that he could do any sort of relationship other than friends? Well, he thought he was irreparable.

"I really wish you would rest at least a little."

Thank the gods he said that... Trick sighed with him, pleased that she wouldn't have to force herself to move just yet. Still feeling a bit faint, she merely observed when he redressed her. Punk slid the fabric of his shirt over his chest and arms, revealing scars from stories she had yet to hear. Him too, eh? Next she studied his tattoos, remaining silent through the entire process. He's definitely an arts kid... A wolf? Interesting. The same fabric was placed over her head, and she slowly inhaled his scent. It was instantly calming, and she smiled-eyes closed for a few seconds. Trick felt like a doll as he dressed her; her shirt fell loosely to the ground just before he gently placed her arms through his own shirt.

"I... I didn't realize I'd be staying here that long." Trick made a mental note to thank Poet for deciding to take her in. An arm slid under hers and held her waist, steadying her as they traveled through the building. If she could have her way, she'd stay with him. Though she appreciated Eagle's work, she had yet to connect with him like she had Punk. It was hard for her to trust people enough to consider them friends, let alone be secure enough to sleep-completely defenseless-in the same room as someone.

"Where are you staying? I mean, I don't have to room with you of course, it'd be nice if you were close by though. I'm not really looking forward to sleeping by someone who I've never met or talked to." Her face fell, and she avoided eye contact with Punk. She didn't know why she was suddenly so bashful, she hadn't acted this way when they had first met. Maybe it's because you actually like this kid. A voice in her mind teased. Fuck off, no I don't. He's hot, yeah. Doesn't mean I like him. The other side argued back. Then why are you blushing? Trick shook herself of the thoughts.

Clearing her throat, she continued. "Could you like, stay with me? At least for tonight? I'm a bit shaken up and I don't know, you seem trustworthy." Plus, I want to know about those... Her eyes focused on the scars all over his body. Trick definitely had ones to match. "Don't think you have to though, I don't want to bother you." She continued to focus anywhere but on his face. Trick couldn't bear seeming so weak.

Rouge jumped to her feet when the boy came in and fell to the floor.. After taking a moment to realise hat happened, she jogged over to him and stood him upright. Now she could clearly see the trail of scarlet leading in from outside and the stain on his shirt. Rouge put an arm around his side to give him a means of support and as steadily as possible, she walked him over to where she had been seated before and sat him down in the chair. "Sorry 'bout any blood on this chair." She said to Sparks. She looked the boy up and down but her attention was always caught by the blood. She didn't know a kid could bleed this much from a shank. Rouge, being new to Providence, looked for a weapon on the boy. She didn't know, people could just attack! Then she'd have some damage, and may have even been killed. That, wouldn't have been good on her first day. "Rough day, kid?" She smirked at him, then turned her attention to the other woman who'd given drugs to Echo. I better not be the only non-druggie here. The thought passed her mind quickly, but she dismissed it. Rouge didn't know what to say now, and so looked at Echo and Sparks. "Um, anyone know the kid?" It's not like she was going to let them throw him out before they'd helped, but she'd still like to know.

Punk felt his heart sink a bit as he heard that she hadn't planned on staying very long. He put up some walls a bit more around his heart, trying not to be hurt. He tried to hide the disappointment in his blue eyes. "Yeah, well, as soon as you're all fixed up you're free to go. We don't force people to stay with us." He said to her in a bit of a guarded tone. If she wasn't gonna stay, he wasn't gonna get attatched. He kept leading the girl down the halls, getting closer to the rooms that pretty much everyone shared. "I room with Heartless. She brought me here when I first got here." He thought a moment, trying to figure out who didn't have a sleeping partner as of now. "Uh. Well, I think Corner isn't rooming with anyone. He's the weapon expert of the Code Black. Let's just say that you'd be pretty safe with him around."

Did... did she just ask that?

Punk was shocked to say the least when he heard Trick ask him to stay with her for the night. "Uh, I can ask Corner to switch rooms with me for the night, sure. We'll have to make all the arrangements with Heartless and Corner though." He stammered slightly. How long had it been since a girl actually asked to share a bed with him? Not since... no, he wouldn't think of that. Not now. She was gone. She wouldn't ruin any more of his life.

After a few moments of shuffling down the hall, they arrived at the door of Corner's room. Punk opened the door and guided Trick in, and Corner looked up from cleaning a large rifle. "Hey Punk. What's this?" He asked in a bit of surprise, watching as Punk eased Trick into a chair. "This is Trick. She's new here, but not sure of she's staying. She's rooming with you for now. But hey, could you and I switch rooms for tonight? She's not too comfortable here yet." Corner shrugged, putting his gun back together after finishing cleaning his gun. "Sure. Have to run it by Heartless first, though." Punk nodded, making his way to the door. "Yeah, i know. That was my next stop. Keep her company while I talk to Heartless." And with that, Punk was out the door and Corner was left with Trick.

"Well, Trick, seems we'll be stuck together for a little bit." He smirked to her as he finished putting the gun together. "I have a couple rules. Don't touch my guns. And you steal anything, I will not hesitate to find a suitable punishment." He said to the girl, not trying to scare her, but wanting to be firm about his rules. "So, what got you here, and why exactly is Punk shirtless?" Corner raised his brow a bit. "You work fast on him or something?" He asked in a suggestive tone with a laugh.

Meanwhile, Punk had made it the room that he and Heartless shared two doors down from Corner's room. He opened the door and peeked his head in to see if Heartless was in there. She was, sitting at the small table and writing on some piece of paper. "Hey, Heartless?" Punk asked in a soft tone. "What's up Punk?" She asked, turning to face him. Punk gave a devious grin to her. "The ceiling. The sky. C'mon, you should know that." He said with a chuckle. "Alright smartass, what do you want?" She asked with a slight roll of her eyes. "Trick doesn't want to sleep in the same room with someone she's never talked to before. She wants me to room with her for tonight. Would you mind if Corner and I switched rooms for tonight?" Heartless waved Punk off dismissively. "Yeah. Yeah, go ahead." She said to him. Punk said his thanks and left the room.

He walked back to the room and opened the door. "All systems are a go." He said to Corner."Now get out." He gave Corner a small smirk."You've probably scared her enough already." Corner gave a loud laugh and stood up. "Nice talking to ya, Trick." he said and left the room. Punk plopped himself onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh and covered his eyes with one arm. "So much work for one little girl." He said with a laugh.

If Trick's words had any effect on Punk, she didn't notice. She was still avoiding eye contact, she couldn't bear rejection, let alone if she was looking at him when he did it. Punk had taken her statement the wrong way. "Yeah, well, as soon as you're all fixed up you're free to go. We don't force people to stay with us." Trick noticed Punk's tone of voice shift. What was once comforting now held a certain extent of hostility. No! That's not what I meant! Trick had to let him know. Smooth move, asshole.

"No, I meant that I didn't think you guys would take me-" Her words were cut short when Punk began rehearsing her on the rooming arrangements. Trick decided she would just have to deal with that later. He's staying with someone named Heartless? Wait, that someone is a she? Great. The semi-hurt teen was led into another room, occupied by a boy with an up-do tending to a... gun? Jeeze, does everyone have guns here?

"Hey Punk, what's this?" Any hurt plastered on Trick's face immediately vanquished. She raised one of her eyebrows challengingly, and was about to make a sarcastic retort about being referred to as an "it"-but Punk stepped in and explained the situation. It was probably better that he did, Trick doubted that her comment would have made a great first impression. After a few moments she was left alone with the weapons-master, and she was a bit intimidated. He laid down a few rules which she would make a point to follow-she hated it when people touched her shit, so she wouldn't touch his.

"So, what got you here, and why exactly is Punk shirtless? You work fast on him or something?" Trick couldn't hide the cocky smirk that emerged on her face. She shook her head, chuckling under her breath . "I'm sorry to disappoint your imagination, but he just gave me his shirt because mine was sliced open." Trick shrugged. "Can't say I'll be giving it back anytime soon, though. Does that make you happy?" She winked playfully, just before Punk entered the room again. She nodded once at Corner as he left.

"Psht, I'd like to think I'm at least worth walking a few feet here and there." Trick crossed one of her arms, it was all she could really do. "I'm not that terrible, am I?" She re situated herself so she was sitting cross-legged, facing him. His shirt hung loosely over her chest, and she instinctively put her arms wrist-down over the rips in her pants.

"What happened there?" Trick nodded towards his scars, and tried to catch his eyes with hers. She sucked at talking about her emotions and past, but she was prepared in case Punk wanted her to spill in return. A mutual-trust agreement, almost. Trick's right arm lifted and tentatively reached towards him to trace a scar, but she hesitated and pulled it back, clenching her fist and returning it to its placement on her leg.

Punk sighed a bit to himself. "Well, when you've been up since the ass crack of dawn to help out with the hunting, anything seems like a lot of maintenance." He said to her. "But I've dealt with worse." Punk let out a yawn and stretched a bit, pointing his toes and stretching his arms over his head, his eyes shut tight as joints popped and his body elongated. After a few seconds of this, he relaxed and placed his arm back over his eyes, obscuring his vision once again. He was relaxing a bit after the half of the day that he had been through. Though, in truth, this day really wasn't all that busy. He really had seen worse days.

"Whatcha talkin' bout, Willis?" Punk asked when Trick asked him a question. In truth, he knew what she was talking about, but he was playing dumb a little bit to half tease her. He removed his arm from his eyes and looked up at the ceiling for a bit. After a few moments of silence he looked down to his mutilated chest and arms and took a breath to begin his story. It would be a long one.

"Well, you know how it is in the city. Everyone uptight and following strictly by the rules. Well, when I began to show that I had a bit of artistic tendancies... well, my parents tried to correct it." Punk began to touch the circular burns along his arms, scars from the past when his parents tried to fix him. "Obviously, none of that worked. They raised me, kicked me out when they could, and disowned me. Haven't seen them since my 16th birthday, when they signed the consent forms for me to live on my own." He finished that part of the story and his finger moved to trace the white and upraised scars on his wrists. "And when Clara left me... well, you could imagine how fucked up I was. So, I took up a nice little hobby there." He laughed bitterly. "Even went back and hurt myself the way my parents did." He said, moving his fingers to the burns along his stomach. He finally moved his finger to the longer, deeper scar above his heart. "And this is where I tried to end it all... missed my heart. The knife wasn't long enough, it turns out."

Punk shut his eyes, his hand turning to a fist on his chest, his knuckles white. "Where the hell is the booze?" He muttered to himself, getting up and rummaging around the room. He found a bottle of vodka half finished under the bed, then laid back down and took a swig of it, letting the alcohol burn his throat.

Fucking Wolves! Thought Amelia crossly as the scrawny boy tumbled into her club. You invite one and then the whole fucking pack shows up!

Amelia watched on assessing the situation as the brunette she had just bandaged up brought the boy forward to her seat. There was something off about this kid . . . And she thought she knew just what it was.

Informants. She smiled to herself . . . they were a pain in the ass but the information they provided her with was priceless.

Amelia came around the counter and pushed the brunette away who was staring at the blood soaked boy and examined the boy for herself.

Turning cold blue eyes on the boys face who looked shook up Amelia said to him casually “Funny way to get shanked. The cut is deeper at the bottom of the wound then the upper portion.”

If the boy had been shanked by someone the wound should have been deeper at the point of entry at the top and then gradually thinned at the bottom at the point of release. This little shit had shanked himself . . .

Amelia smirked down at him as panic ran through his eyes and suddenly he pulled out a knife but Amelia was too fast for the boy and grabbed his wrist and slammed it down hard on the counter. The boy cried out at the impact and the knife dropped out of his fingers and clattered on the bar counter.

Grabbing the knife in an instant Amelia stabbed it through the middle of the boys flat palm. He screamed out a blood curdling screech. She heard the same from the girls to the boys side at a distance.

Amelia did not care, her temper was so flared she was seeing red. She did not like playing the fool and this child would learn that the hard way.

“God! Please stop! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!” The boy cried.

Amelia squished the boys face between her hand.

“I don't like liars or tricksters. So you better tell me right now why you're here other wise that knife in your hand is going to be in your chest in the next 30 seconds!” Amelia spat viciously close to the boys weeping face.

She let go of his jaw so he could speak. He choked a little before he answered.

“Alright! Alright! I'll tell you!” He cried one hand still pinned to the counter, the blood running a small river over the counter top.

She would have to clean that shit up.

“I-I was sent by C-Ceasar Kennedy . . . If I don't go back with what they want . . . The-They're gonna kill me man!” He cried out.

Fucking Ceasar Kennedy! Greedy fucking bastard! Amelia thought with disgust. They were just fucking with this kid. That . . . and the fact they were fucking scared of her themselves to come pick up their own shit.

Amelia pulled the knife out the boys hand. Immediately he pulled it to his chest. Wiping the knife clean with a bar cloth Amelia placed it back on the counter. The boys eyes flashed to the knife and then back to Amelia.

She smirked with a raised brow . . . Daring him to try. But the boy had learnt his lesson. You don't fuck with Amelia Sparks and leave unharmed. A valid lesson to learn . . . the earlier the better.

Snatching the boys forearm back, Amelia held it in a vice like grip as the boy panicked and tried to pull it back. However, she was much stronger then the puny kid.

“Would you relax!” Amelia said to him calmly “As you can see I just fixed brunette up there and I'll do the same for you.”

He hesitantly stopped squirming and allowed Amelia to see to and fix up his wounds. Both self inflicted and the one's caused by Amelia too.

“What's you name?”

“M-Mouse.” The boy stammered.

Mouse! What kind of fucking name was that? Might as well have called himself Rat, that was more appropriate for the work he was doing, but Amelia doubted the kid was given much of a choice. Some part of her felt sorry for him. But that was a small part which did not have a voice.

“Well, Mouse.” Amelia said looking the boy in the eyes having finished wrapping up his wounds. “I think we can help each other.” Amelia smiled innocuously.

“Help each other!” The boy laughed having gathered some of his courage now “You fucking lost it lady? It wasn't a minute ago you were threatening to kill me!” A look of utter outrage plastered across his face.

“That would not have been necessary,” Amelia ground through clenched teeth “if you hadn't fucking lied to me to begin with!”

Calming herself down which was not an easy feat in and of itself Amelia tried again.

“Look you little shit, if I wanted you'd be worse then fucking dead right now. You think if you go back empty handed to those fucking Pig's it's gonna be bad for you? Well I'm gonna tell you this once and only once. There are fates much worse then those at the hands of those bastards and it'd do you well to remember that the next time you decide to fucking lie to me.” She said in a calm and collective way that it was utterly frightening.

The boy looked on dumbfounded and chilled to the bone.

“But now we digress. Let's get back to the subject at hand.” Amelia said with a cold smile “You work for the Cops. The Cops work for me. Yet, I find one can never have too many friends in the Police Force or those close to them.”

Amelia paused as she went around the counter and pulled out a whole taped up carrier bag full of narcotics. Coming back around she took the seat next to Mouse and placed the bag not too softly into his hands while still keeping one hand on it.

“You give these bastards this package and you keep your eyes and ear open and keep your mouth shut. You come back - because they will send you again – and tell me what you find. Anything no matter how big or how small, say like the Chief's wife cheating on him with a fucking officer, I wanna know. The information should pass solely between me and you. If I find out that you've been selling secrets behind my back you won't even see the shank coming at you before you're throat is slashed and you're breathing you last breaths.” Amelia stopped and smiled happily.

The boy looked at her in horror and yet a certain feared curiosity.

“Come now, don't look at me like that. I'm not like those bastards on the Force. You'll be handsomely rewarded for your efforts. Free drugs, booze, cigarettes anything you like, for a job well done.”

Amelia pulled her hand away from the bag and slowly sat up straight.

One could never have one too many informants. Mouse would be useful to her until he got caught or killed.

“Now get the fuck out of my sight . . . NOW!” She added with a shout when he just stared at her.

Mouse jumped up with a squeak and practically raced to the exit.

“Wait!” Amelia called out as the boy opened the door.

He turned around shakily and with an equally shaky voice questioned “Yeah?”

“You tell Ceasar Kennedy, to come see me sometime here.”

Tell him not send a fucking kid to come get his shit and come get it himself and not to be such a mother fucking pussy. Amelia thought ruefully but did not bother saying out loud.

“Tell him I miss him.”

The boy left quickly without responding.

Turning back to the two outraged faces of the girls, having remember Echo's previous question before the little shit, Mouse had decided to stumble in.

“There are booths up stairs for exactly that.” Amelia said to Echo “And are you asking me for a job?”

She always had vacancies . . . Hmm, why was that? . . . Oh, yes! Because life expectancy was near a full rounded zero.

Amelia smiled wickedly.

Those are from his parents?

For once in her life, Trick found herself completely speechless. Her parents were fuck-ups and complete failures as well, but they didn't torture her. That was beyond even her imagination. The young punk's eyes softened as she listened to his tale of his childhood, or lack thereof. He went through all of that for his art? Forget passion, that's an obsession. How could he manage that? She felt like she was having a bad dream. Trick was sick to her stomach, and as much as she wanted to comfort Punk, she didn't know how.

"Hey, you're not the only one." Trick sat up, lifting the front of her shirt. Her body appeared to be horribly mistreated with some form of sharp object. After a few moments she shoved the fabric back down over her stomach; even after he had opened up to her she found it hard to talk to anyone about her addiction to self-mutilation.

Punk grabbed a bottle of alcohol and she sighed. That was all she was going to get out of him for now. "I'm sorry... I have this terrible habit of ruining your mood. I'm sorry I asked." Trick cleared her throat, she wasn't used to talking like this. "I'm not good at this but-" The teen extended her arm and laid it softly on his shoulder. She squeezed it briefly before patting it twice-Trick was horribly awkward. "Uhm, well, why don't we talk about something else?" A half-smile appeared on her face, desperately attempting to bring back the fun-loving Punk she was talking to before.

"Is he going to flog me if I ask for a swig of that? It'll look like I'm taking advantage of you if you're the only one intoxicated. Who knows the horrible things I could do?" Trick wiggled her fingers at him and elbowed him teasingly.

Smooth move, asshole. She repeated in her head. She still felt a terrible pang of guilt for upsetting him.

Echo looked to the door to see a boy come in with a bloody arm, she watched as Rouge went over to the boy but soon Sparks was there. Her eyes went pretty wide when Sparks put the knife in the boys hand "What the hell!" she yelled but didn't move, she had a feeling that she shouldn't even deal with getting inbetween that mess.

So she just watched, the boy, Mouse, seemed to be some sort of inbetweener for Sparks and Caesar Kennedy, whoever the fuck that was but she had a feeling she didn't want to know. Her headache was getting slightly worse and she was going to need to take a hit soon because she couldn't deal with this much longer, her arm was propped on the counter as she laid her head in her hand. Watching Mouse leave she saw Sparks turn attention back to her.

“There are booths up stairs for exactly that.And are you asking me for a job?”

"Yes I am, you seem like a woman that I would rather be on your good side then bad side. But can we talk about this after I take a couple of hits, my heads pounding and I can't really think to straight right now" she said to Sparks as she stood up then she looked to Rouge. "We should probably head out soon before it gets too dark so we could find a place to crash for the night".

---

After the encounter with Spark, Mouse was chilled to the bone. He knew why she had control of the Chief, Ceasar, and most of the Police. She was pretty fucking scary. He carried the package close to him, hidden by the large trench coat he pulled back on. He slid into the Police's alley and knocked on the brick wall three times. A large security man yanked him inside. There was small talk between the head of Police and his leaders when Mouse came in. Ceasar's eyes when straight to the cut on his palm. Mouse shied back, but the package was snatched from his hands and given to the Lieutenant. "What did our friend Spark tell you?" Chief asked the boy, sharp eyes watching his every move.

"She thought I was a new Providence member. Took pity on me." A man behind him pushed Mouse to his knees, a cold gunpoint to his head. His eyes went wide. "The truth, Mouse." Chief told him. The teenage boy was freaking out. "She knew I worked here, she really did have pity on me, and gave me the package. Said you wouldn't kill even if I didn't bring it back, and wants you to come see her." The last part was quiet, but Ceasar heard quite clear. "She's right, but today, we'll give her a big surprise. Goodbye Mouse." The boy screamed out for mercy, but it only lasted for seconds until the man behind him shot him. Ceasar wrote down a small note, and stuck it to the boy's wrapped chest. "Give Spark a warm gift, from me." Ceasar chuckled darkly. His body was settled in front of the Damned's door with the gun sticking out of his trench coat poket, where a shot version of Twelfth Night was replaced. Maybe Ceasar could finally surprise Spark.

Dear Spark,
Curiosity killed the Mouse. I'll be sending someone soon.
Sincerely,
Chief

---

While Bullet and Poet sat against the roof, Tre had made his way with his gang to the Headquarters. Eagle and Bluebird stood up from the table with knifes at ready. Tre shot Bluebird in her stomach and was on Eagle before he could even throw his knife. With the barrel to Eagle's head, they went up to the rooftop, where Eagle told him to go. "Pretty Boy!" Poet turned and was in utter shock. He stood up, Bullet by his side, and wished he had a weapon with him. "Tre, let go of Eagle, I know you don't want to hurt him." Poet neogiated calmly, and Bullet went on to the Code Black walkie-talkie. "Bullet, HQ Now-" Tre shot at the walkie. He pushed Eagle away, causing him to stumble into the stairs and tumble down, and went to shoot for Poet. As the bullet whizzed toward Poet, Bullet pushed him off the edge of the building and took the bullet. "NO, ROSIE!"

Poet rashed into a deserted car. Glass and impact from the two story fall let pain rush through his entire body. He kicked open the car door with a yelp of pain, and slid through the car to pass out on the pavement. Heartless streaked towards the boy passed out on the street with a pistol in her hand. Corner was following behind her. Before anyone else could react, Heartless streaked out of the theatre and towards her best friend. She fell to her knees and cradled the boy in her arms. He let out another yelp of pain. "Johnny, we're going to help you, I promise." She whispered, tears dripping onto Poet's face. Corner started on the easiest wounds. "Sarah, I'll be okay. Rosie-" Heartless rubbed his hair back, and pulled off her sweater to rest Poet's head on.

She kissed him on the cheek, and ran into the HQ. Bluebird was sobbing, a river of blood running down her arm, relocating her brother's arm. "Where's Bullet?" They pointed towards the stairs, and she went up slowly and carefully and found Tre on his knees. Heartless pressed the gun to his head. She pushed his body off of Rose. "ROSIE!"

Eagle tried to keep in the pain. The fall downstairs has dislocated both his shoulders and broke his leg. When she relocated his healing arm, he dug for the bullet in her stomach. She cried out in pain and accidently squeezing his hand, where the index finger was broken. "Sorry, bro." She cried out, biting on her lip until blood came out. She relocated his other shoulder, and they both tried to fix his broken leg. It was hard, with surgery, but with the right kind of medical boot, it could heal on its own. But it would take a lot of work to create. "Someone was shot, we need to help." Eagle went to stand up, and fell to the floor. He was unconscious when Bluebird checked on him. Just as Poet was outside, where Corner found another bullet and scrapnel from the car, including a shower of glass along the left side of his face. If he didn't work fast, Poet would go blind in that eye.

---

“Amy, you should come see this.” Said Spencer one of her many enormous bouncers for Damned.

Amelia followed him to the front doors of the club.

“Shit! Mother fucking bastards!” She screeched in the empty street.

Poor bastard. The dead bloody shot up body of the Kid Mouse lay on the door step of her club with one hour till opening.

Spencer kept his distance, as Amelia shook her head in pity one hand covering her mouth. A sadness and grief washed over her. He was just a kid and did not deserve that. He died for a fucking sick game of Chess.

Taking a deep breath Amelia washed away the feeling of guilt. It did her no good in this business. Yet she could not help the grief and guilt that washed over her every time someone who worked for her was killed.

But this was a business and that was fucking life. So she grieved one moment and the next it was all business.

“Move the body. Have Charlie take it down to the Morgue straight away. I want this kid to have a proper burial with a head stone and everything . . . His names was Mouse.” Amelia ordered in a morose voice.

Spencer nodded and then added “There was a note too and this.” handing Amelia the piece of paper and the shot up copy of Twelfth Night and began to do as he was told.

Amelia examined the book with cool eyes . . . She would keep it. A small reminder of a boy no one would ever again remember.

Opening the small note she scanned the scribbled words.

Dear Spark,
Curiosity killed the Mouse. I'll be sending someone soon.
Sincerely,
Chief

Anger flared through every part of Amelia's being.

“Son of a bitch!” She spat as she scrunched up the paper in one hand not ever realising she was doing it and threw it to the ground where blood stained.

“Fucking great! More blood to clean up!”

What a fucked up day this was turning out to be.

But it wasn't over yet . . .

Amelia's lips curled up dangerously to the side as two Police Officers looking rather jumpy – as was normal in this area, for they feared for their lives, rightly – walked towards the Club.

Was it fate or Karma . . . Maybe it was both . . .

---

30 Minutes later . . .


A white unmarked van pulled to a screeching stop in front of the Providence Police Head Quarters. The doors slid open and two bodies clad in Police uniform were thrown onto the stoop of the PPD. Their brains blown out clear through their mouths . . . A gruesome sight yet not an uncommon one in the Providence.

A clean letter addressed to the Chief of Police was pinned to one of the corpses uniform.


An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind - Gandhi said that . . . but in Providence it just makes us Even.

I've taken two of your eyes. One for the boy and one for his corpse on my door step.

Don't make the same mistake twice . . . or it might be your last.


Forever yours,

S

---

The van sped away . . .

Punk had just been about to respond when he heard gun shots and shouts coming from upstairs and downstairs. "What in the fuck?" He said, jumping off the bed and smashing the bottle of vodka against the night stand, holding the shattered glass by the neck of the bottle in case he needed a weapon. Punk ran out of the room, adrenaline pumping through his veins, forgetting all about his past, all about the conversation he had just been having, and focused on one thing. The safety of the entire Code Black.

By the time Punk made it to the scene, it was too late. Everything had already happened. The shots had been fired, the injuries already occurred, and those who died were already dead. The first thing that went through his mind was the safety of Heartless. He could see that Eagle and Bluebird were already helping each other out, and he had no idea where Bullet, Heartless, or Poet were. The first place he figured he would check was the roof. It was there that he found Tre's dead body, Rosie lying limp on the ground, and Heartless sobbing over her. Punk ran to Heartless immediately and took her into his arms, cradling her into his lap and holding her head against his chest as he rocked back and forth. "Hun, it'll be okay. We're gonna fix everything, okay? We'll fix Rosie up, we'll get Eagle and Bluebird all patched up. We'll fix everything, and it'll be back to the way it was. You have to calm down though. You have to calm down." Punk continued to cradle the girl in his lap, holding her close and murmuring comforting words into her ear. His hands gently rubbed her back as he tried to comfort his dear friend.

---

"No, Rosie, no, no..." The sobbing and pleading for her best friend, her sister in spirit, to come back became louder and louder as Heartless realized that Bullet would die on top of this roof, Poet's roof. Tears splattered the rose red wound, Bullet's twisted face of pain, and became worse at every hitch in Bullet's breathing. Heartless had the girl in her arms, the white tank top bleeding red. "Please, Rose, baby." Heartless sobbed. She could never remember crying this much; not since her replacement from the Cities to the Providence. She had grown, but her emotions from being a kid in a landfill weren't so mature. They were jagged, rough, and hard to close once open.

She heard the door slam open, and Punk pulled her into him. Pangs of emotions ripped open as he cradled her against his chest, her tear-stained face resting against his soft neck. Every word of comfort sliced open every thought of worry, of pain, overwhelming fear. Punk knew what he was doing, because Heartless slowly calmed down, as if everything he said was already happening. Her raggedy breaths attack his neck in warm stuttering as she tried to speak. "Th-that bastard got what h-he wanted." Even though he was dead, Tre still achieved what he set out for. Poet was slowly dying, the Code Black leaders in disarray, and he finally got Heartless to cry. He tried before, and with a barrel in her mouth, she never let a tear fall for the Providence Pimp, the drug-dealing, newbie-shooting bastard. "If we want to save Rosie, we have to get her to," she looked off onto the city landscape, searching the distance to the special place she was thinking of, "Lauren's Place. It's down two streets from the main race, ask for Alias, Balance Case." Heartless recited from memory, hiccuping from the staining tears still running down her cheeks.

Nick walked through a desolate subway station in downtown Providence. It's brick walls were bleeding with years of crime and violence. Drug dealers, prostitutes, and hobos crept through the underground like ants in a hive. Nick kept his right hand close to his holster where his pistol was held. It brooded it's violent temper quietly in it's metallic case; dying to blow through a fool's flesh and bone. Nick readied his gun and crept from wall to wall like a stray cat. His targets' voices were audible from a corner. Two men were exchanging briefcases from each other.
"PSD! You are under arrest!" Nick shouted and aimed his gun at them.
The men cursed and took cover behind another corner.
"What are you doing you idiots?! Whack him!" One of the men shouted.
Apparantly, there were more than just two men. A group of men began shooting their weapons in the direction where Nick was taking cover. The loud noise of guns being fired filled the subway station, then strangely, began to die out.
Nick took a cautious peek, and to his surprise found them all lying dead. Someone had shot down all the mobsters while he was taking cover. At the other end of the subway tunnel stood a young man in a black suit. When the man noticed Nick, he turned around and began running the opposite direction.

Nick returned to his apartment in a slum neighborhood of Providence. The apartment reeked of the smell of spilled liquor and musty peeled paint. It was dark like the inside of a hermit crab's shell; the window blinds shut out the light, creating a cave for bats. Nick placed the two briefcases he retrieved from the mobsters on the table. One was filled with neatly packaged cases of the designer drug Envitanyl; the other was filled with several hundred grands. Nick sprawled down on the sofa and lit a cigarette. The packs of Envitanyl laid in the briefcase, almost resembling flour or sugar with its white colour. They were glaring at him, growling angrily like half-starved beasts. Then at one point they spoke to him in evil, incomprehensible words.
Nick's phone began to ring. Nick lazily picked it up while keeping his gaze on the briefcases.
"Yeah?"
"Detective Erwin. This is Lieutenant McAlpin. I hate to say this but you are under arrest for the unlawful assault and murder of Providence citizens. Not just half an hour ago you were seen shooting at the subway station."
"You're kidding me right?" Nick protested. "I was investigating a drug deal between Napolitano henchmen and a third party. I didn't shoot anyone. It was some guy who killed them. Unidentified though."
"Doesn't matter. My men are heading over to your apartment right now to arrest you. Get ready to explain everything before you hand in your badge."

Rouge wasn't affected by the shooting of the police, she did that all the time, but what they did to the boy... It's like human life was just a manipulitave game, where the winner always cheated and the losers would be forgotten forever. Suddenly snapping back to Earth, Rouge turned to Echo with haste and grabbing her wrist instinctively. "We have to go." She whispered under her breath. "This woman is dangerous. If Providence have a problem with her, we're going to get caught up in it sooner or later. I don't feel like being shot today, do you? It's your choice, but I'm leaving." And with those quiet words, Rouge stood up and nodded her thanks to the woman and exited the club.

This, She thought could be a mistake. Now she was out in the open, not knowing her way around, and on her own. Unless Echo decided to join her.