City of IF

[Lilith]

Alright, so I've been rolling this around in my head since before I left on vacation and I figured what better way to welcome myself back than to start up a new game.

So the rules are pretty much the same as the One-Word-At-A-Time & Two-Word-At-A-Time games with the obvious exception that you get an WHOLE paragraph to sort of fluff out and push the story in another direction. It makes the whole story development process go a lot faster and if people follow along, it lets everyone be a part of a rapidly evolving story, like a Live SG or something like that. So without further ado.. I shall begin.

When he opened his eyes that morning, Brett didn't think he was going to be able to face the monotony of yet another day in the office. Slogging away at paperwork with a cup of coffee in one hand and his pen in the other wasn't exactly how he'd dreamed up his future as a child. When he was young, he wanted to be a fireman or a cowboy or an awesome astronaut that shot aliens with a laser. Alas, Brett's childhood imagination, like so many others, wilted and withered into almost nothing when faced with the reality of adulthood. Wistfully, Brett gazed out of his bedroom window, wondering what would happen if he just jumped in the car and started driving away, with no intention of coming back.

[Tikanni Corazon]

When he opened his eyes that morning, Brett didn't think he was going to be able to face the monotony of yet another day in the office. Slogging away at paperwork with a cup of coffee in one hand and his pen in the other wasn't exactly how he'd dreamed up his future as a child. When he was young, he wanted to be a fireman or a cowboy or an awesome astronaut that shot aliens with a laser. Alas, Brett's childhood imagination, like so many others, wilted and withered into almost nothing when faced with the reality of adulthood. Wistfully, Brett gazed out of his bedroom window, wondering what would happen if he just jumped in the car and started driving away, with no intention of coming back.


For a short time he just sat day-dreaming, imagining scenarios in his head as to what he could do if he just gave up on his current existence and set off to find a new one.
'I could buy a boat...live out on the ocean...I could be a fisherman! A pleasant, simple life...I could find myself a nice, comely wench to marry...comely wench? Where did that come from?...'
His focus was broken suddenly by a movement on the street below. He frowned slightly as he watched a young girl run down the pavement, continually looking back over her shoulder as if she was being followed. She made a quick turn down an alleyway situated across from his building, and here she paused. Even from this distance he could see that she was panting from her exertions. She moved and peeked around the edge of the wall against which she was leaning, back the way she'd come.

[Seraphi]

When he opened his eyes that morning, Brett didn't think he was going to be able to face the monotony of yet another day in the office. Slogging away at paperwork with a cup of coffee in one hand and his pen in the other wasn't exactly how he'd dreamed up his future as a child. When he was young, he wanted to be a fireman or a cowboy or an awesome astronaut that shot aliens with a laser. Alas, Brett's childhood imagination, like so many others, wilted and withered into almost nothing when faced with the reality of adulthood. Wistfully, Brett gazed out of his bedroom window, wondering what would happen if he just jumped in the car and started driving away, with no intention of coming back.


For a short time he just sat day-dreaming, imagining scenarios in his head as to what he could do if he just gave up on his current existence and set off to find a new one.
'I could buy a boat...live out on the ocean...I could be a fisherman! A pleasant, simple life...I could find myself a nice, comely wench to marry...comely wench? Where did that come from?...'
His focus was broken suddenly by a movement on the street below. He frowned slightly as he watched a young girl run down the pavement, continually looking back over her shoulder as if she was being followed. She made a quick turn down an alleyway situated across from his building, and here she paused. Even from this distance he could see that she was panting from her exertions. She moved and peeked around the edge of the wall against which she was leaning, back the way she'd come.

He followed her line of sight down the street. Very few came down this way, though there was the odd person that flitted through here to a more bustling part of the city, so Brett found it odd when he saw a group of well dressed businessmen, brandishing sleek sunglasses and scowls, marching their way forward. The way they walked was almost mechanical, and their formation, that of a triangle, was too perfect, too practiced. He glanced back to the girl, nearly jumping out of his skin when he met her eyes, a bright emerald green, and saw the pleading in them.

[Lilith]

When he opened his eyes that morning, Brett didn't think he was going to be able to face the monotony of yet another day in the office. Slogging away at paperwork with a cup of coffee in one hand and his pen in the other wasn't exactly how he'd dreamed up his future as a child. When he was young, he wanted to be a fireman or a cowboy or an awesome astronaut that shot aliens with a laser. Alas, Brett's childhood imagination, like so many others, wilted and withered into almost nothing when faced with the reality of adulthood. Wistfully, Brett gazed out of his bedroom window, wondering what would happen if he just jumped in the car and started driving away, with no intention of coming back.


For a short time he just sat day-dreaming, imagining scenarios in his head as to what he could do if he just gave up on his current existence and set off to find a new one. 'I could buy a boat...live out on the ocean...I could be a fisherman! A pleasant, simple life...I could find myself a nice, comely wench to marry...comely wench? Where did that come from?...' His focus was broken suddenly by a movement on the street below. He frowned slightly as he watched a young girl run down the pavement, continually looking back over her shoulder as if she was being followed. She made a quick turn down an alleyway situated across from his building, and here she paused. Even from this distance he could see that she was panting from her exertions. She moved and peeked around the edge of the wall against which she was leaning, back the way she'd come.

He followed her line of sight down the street. Very few came down this way, though there was the odd person that flitted through here to a more bustling part of the city, so Brett found it odd when he saw a group of well dressed businessmen, brandishing sleek sunglasses and scowls, marching their way forward. The way they walked was almost mechanical, and their formation, that of a triangle, was too perfect, too practiced. He glanced back to the girl, nearly jumping out of his skin when he met her eyes, a bright emerald green, and saw the pleading in them.

He didn't know why, but Brett felt an overwhelming, inescapable urge to help the girl. Quickly he glanced around his room for his hoodie and a pair of jogging shorts to throw on over his underwear he normally slept in. Once he was dressed, Brett gave another look out the window to see where the girl and her entourage had gone. She was still out there, but now she was cornered in the alley right around the corner of his apartment building, the group of suited men approaching steadily. Swearing, Brett took off and sprinted out of his apartment, thundering down the steel stairway just outside of the firedoors of his hallway.

[PopeAlessandrosXVIII]

When he opened his eyes that morning, Brett didn't think he was going to be able to face the monotony of yet another day in the office. Slogging away at paperwork with a cup of coffee in one hand and his pen in the other wasn't exactly how he'd dreamed up his future as a child. When he was young, he wanted to be a fireman or a cowboy or an awesome astronaut that shot aliens with a laser. Alas, Brett's childhood imagination, like so many others, wilted and withered into almost nothing when faced with the reality of adulthood. Wistfully, Brett gazed out of his bedroom window, wondering what would happen if he just jumped in the car and started driving away, with no intention of coming back.


For a short time he just sat day-dreaming, imagining scenarios in his head as to what he could do if he just gave up on his current existence and set off to find a new one. 'I could buy a boat...live out on the ocean...I could be a fisherman! A pleasant, simple life...I could find myself a nice, comely wench to marry...comely wench? Where did that come from?...' His focus was broken suddenly by a movement on the street below. He frowned slightly as he watched a young girl run down the pavement, continually looking back over her shoulder as if she was being followed. She made a quick turn down an alleyway situated across from his building, and here she paused. Even from this distance he could see that she was panting from her exertions. She moved and peeked around the edge of the wall against which she was leaning, back the way she'd come.

He followed her line of sight down the street. Very few came down this way, though there was the odd person that flitted through here to a more bustling part of the city, so Brett found it odd when he saw a group of well dressed businessmen, brandishing sleek sunglasses and scowls, marching their way forward. The way they walked was almost mechanical, and their formation, that of a triangle, was too perfect, too practiced. He glanced back to the girl, nearly jumping out of his skin when he met her eyes, a bright emerald green, and saw the pleading in them.

He didn't know why, but Brett felt an overwhelming, inescapable urge to help the girl. Quickly he glanced around his room for his hoodie and a pair of jogging shorts to throw on over his underwear he normally slept in. Once he was dressed, Brett gave another look out the window to see where the girl and her entourage had gone. She was still out there, but now she was cornered in the alley right around the corner of his apartment building, the group of suited men approaching steadily. Swearing, Brett took off and sprinted out of his apartment, thundering down the steel stairway just outside of the firedoors of his hallway.

He kept sprinting, all the way to the edge of the alley. There he paused and took a moment to catch his breath. With a final steadying exhale he pressed himself close to the wall and peeked around it. The men were very close to her now. The one at the head of the triangle had stepped out of formation and was holding his hand out to her. The girl shook her head hard and Brett could see tears streaming down her face. His stomach clenched at the sight. Straining his ears he could barely overhear what the man was saying to her. "It's time to come back Elinna. Your duty to the Foundation must come first. The baby can nev-" He's cut short by the woman screaming back at him. Her voice had a strange echoing quality.

[Seraphi]

When he opened his eyes that morning, Brett didn't think he was going to be able to face the monotony of yet another day in the office. Slogging away at paperwork with a cup of coffee in one hand and his pen in the other wasn't exactly how he'd dreamed up his future as a child. When he was young, he wanted to be a fireman or a cowboy or an awesome astronaut that shot aliens with a laser. Alas, Brett's childhood imagination, like so many others, wilted and withered into almost nothing when faced with the reality of adulthood. Wistfully, Brett gazed out of his bedroom window, wondering what would happen if he just jumped in the car and started driving away, with no intention of coming back.


For a short time he just sat day-dreaming, imagining scenarios in his head as to what he could do if he just gave up on his current existence and set off to find a new one. 'I could buy a boat...live out on the ocean...I could be a fisherman! A pleasant, simple life...I could find myself a nice, comely wench to marry...comely wench? Where did that come from?...' His focus was broken suddenly by a movement on the street below. He frowned slightly as he watched a young girl run down the pavement, continually looking back over her shoulder as if she was being followed. She made a quick turn down an alleyway situated across from his building, and here she paused. Even from this distance he could see that she was panting from her exertions. She moved and peeked around the edge of the wall against which she was leaning, back the way she'd come.

He followed her line of sight down the street. Very few came down this way, though there was the odd person that flitted through here to a more bustling part of the city, so Brett found it odd when he saw a group of well dressed businessmen, brandishing sleek sunglasses and scowls, marching their way forward. The way they walked was almost mechanical, and their formation, that of a triangle, was too perfect, too practiced. He glanced back to the girl, nearly jumping out of his skin when he met her eyes, a bright emerald green, and saw the pleading in them.

He didn't know why, but Brett felt an overwhelming, inescapable urge to help the girl. Quickly he glanced around his room for his hoodie and a pair of jogging shorts to throw on over his underwear he normally slept in. Once he was dressed, Brett gave another look out the window to see where the girl and her entourage had gone. She was still out there, but now she was cornered in the alley right around the corner of his apartment building, the group of suited men approaching steadily. Swearing, Brett took off and sprinted out of his apartment, thundering down the steel stairway just outside of the firedoors of his hallway.

He kept sprinting, all the way to the edge of the alley. There he paused and took a moment to catch his breath. With a final steadying exhale he pressed himself close to the wall and peeked around it. The men were very close to her now. The one at the head of the triangle had stepped out of formation and was holding his hand out to her. The girl shook her head hard and Brett could see tears streaming down her face. His stomach clenched at the sight. Straining his ears he could barely overhear what the man was saying to her. "It's time to come back Elinna. Your duty to the Foundation must come first. The baby can nev-" He's cut short by the woman screaming back at him. Her voice had a strange echoing quality.

All sound became faraway, muffled, like hearing something from deep underwater. Still, Brett's ears picked up the tell-tale click as one of the men pulled a gun from beneath his blazer and knocked the hammer back, aiming it at the girl, ready to fire. "Hey!" he shouted, calling the attention of the men. He rushed over to a nearby tin trash can, dented and rusted, and pulled off the lid. With a quick twist of the waist and flick of the wrist he flung the lid like a frisby towards the heads of the group of men.

[Lilith]

When he opened his eyes that morning, Brett didn't think he was going to be able to face the monotony of yet another day in the office. Slogging away at paperwork with a cup of coffee in one hand and his pen in the other wasn't exactly how he'd dreamed up his future as a child. When he was young, he wanted to be a fireman or a cowboy or an awesome astronaut that shot aliens with a laser. Alas, Brett's childhood imagination, like so many others, wilted and withered into almost nothing when faced with the reality of adulthood. Wistfully, Brett gazed out of his bedroom window, wondering what would happen if he just jumped in the car and started driving away, with no intention of coming back.


For a short time he just sat day-dreaming, imagining scenarios in his head as to what he could do if he just gave up on his current existence and set off to find a new one. 'I could buy a boat...live out on the ocean...I could be a fisherman! A pleasant, simple life...I could find myself a nice, comely wench to marry...comely wench? Where did that come from?...' His focus was broken suddenly by a movement on the street below. He frowned slightly as he watched a young girl run down the pavement, continually looking back over her shoulder as if she was being followed. She made a quick turn down an alleyway situated across from his building, and here she paused. Even from this distance he could see that she was panting from her exertions. She moved and peeked around the edge of the wall against which she was leaning, back the way she'd come.

He followed her line of sight down the street. Very few came down this way, though there was the odd person that flitted through here to a more bustling part of the city, so Brett found it odd when he saw a group of well dressed businessmen, brandishing sleek sunglasses and scowls, marching their way forward. The way they walked was almost mechanical, and their formation, that of a triangle, was too perfect, too practiced. He glanced back to the girl, nearly jumping out of his skin when he met her eyes, a bright emerald green, and saw the pleading in them.

He didn't know why, but Brett felt an overwhelming, inescapable urge to help the girl. Quickly he glanced around his room for his hoodie and a pair of jogging shorts to throw on over his underwear he normally slept in. Once he was dressed, Brett gave another look out the window to see where the girl and her entourage had gone. She was still out there, but now she was cornered in the alley right around the corner of his apartment building, the group of suited men approaching steadily. Swearing, Brett took off and sprinted out of his apartment, thundering down the steel stairway just outside of the firedoors of his hallway.

He kept sprinting, all the way to the edge of the alley. There he paused and took a moment to catch his breath. With a final steadying exhale he pressed himself close to the wall and peeked around it. The men were very close to her now. The one at the head of the triangle had stepped out of formation and was holding his hand out to her. The girl shook her head hard and Brett could see tears streaming down her face. His stomach clenched at the sight. Straining his ears he could barely overhear what the man was saying to her. "It's time to come back Elinna. Your duty to the Foundation must come first. The baby can nev-" He's cut short by the woman screaming back at him. Her voice had a strange echoing quality.

All sound became faraway, muffled, like hearing something from deep underwater. Still, Brett's ears picked up the tell-tale click as one of the men pulled a gun from beneath his blazer and knocked the hammer back, aiming it at the girl, ready to fire. "Hey!" he shouted, calling the attention of the men. He rushed over to a nearby tin trash can, dented and rusted, and pulled off the lid. With a quick twist of the waist and flick of the wrist he flung the lid like a frisby towards the heads of the group of men.

With a loud thunk and then an echoing crash of metal on pavement, the can lid knocked over one of the suited men and fell to the ground. One of his mates knelt down to check the fallen one's pulse with his fingers. "He's dead." The kneeling suit declared to the others, looking up at Brett with ice in his eyes. "You killed him. You killed Fred." All eyes were on Brett but his eyes were glancing at the woman, who'd fallen to her knees with her hands over her ears, her shoulders trembling from heavy sobs. Nice going, jackass, he thought to himself as the other suits started to move in on him.

[Seraphi]

When he opened his eyes that morning, Brett didn't think he was going to be able to face the monotony of yet another day in the office. Slogging away at paperwork with a cup of coffee in one hand and his pen in the other wasn't exactly how he'd dreamed up his future as a child. When he was young, he wanted to be a fireman or a cowboy or an awesome astronaut that shot aliens with a laser. Alas, Brett's childhood imagination, like so many others, wilted and withered into almost nothing when faced with the reality of adulthood. Wistfully, Brett gazed out of his bedroom window, wondering what would happen if he just jumped in the car and started driving away, with no intention of coming back.

For a short time he just sat day-dreaming, imagining scenarios in his head as to what he could do if he just gave up on his current existence and set off to find a new one. 'I could buy a boat...live out on the ocean...I could be a fisherman! A pleasant, simple life...I could find myself a nice, comely wench to marry...comely wench? Where did that come from?...' His focus was broken suddenly by a movement on the street below. He frowned slightly as he watched a young girl run down the pavement, continually looking back over her shoulder as if she was being followed. She made a quick turn down an alleyway situated across from his building, and here she paused. Even from this distance he could see that she was panting from her exertions. She moved and peeked around the edge of the wall against which she was leaning, back the way she'd come.

He followed her line of sight down the street. Very few came down this way, though there was the odd person that flitted through here to a more bustling part of the city, so Brett found it odd when he saw a group of well dressed businessmen, brandishing sleek sunglasses and scowls, marching their way forward. The way they walked was almost mechanical, and their formation, that of a triangle, was too perfect, too practiced. He glanced back to the girl, nearly jumping out of his skin when he met her eyes, a bright emerald green, and saw the pleading in them.

He didn't know why, but Brett felt an overwhelming, inescapable urge to help the girl. Quickly he glanced around his room for his hoodie and a pair of jogging shorts to throw on over his underwear he normally slept in. Once he was dressed, Brett gave another look out the window to see where the girl and her entourage had gone. She was still out there, but now she was cornered in the alley right around the corner of his apartment building, the group of suited men approaching steadily. Swearing, Brett took off and sprinted out of his apartment, thundering down the steel stairway just outside of the firedoors of his hallway.

He kept sprinting, all the way to the edge of the alley. There he paused and took a moment to catch his breath. With a final steadying exhale he pressed himself close to the wall and peeked around it. The men were very close to her now. The one at the head of the triangle had stepped out of formation and was holding his hand out to her. The girl shook her head hard and Brett could see tears streaming down her face. His stomach clenched at the sight. Straining his ears he could barely overhear what the man was saying to her. "It's time to come back Elinna. Your duty to the Foundation must come first. The baby can nev-" He's cut short by the woman screaming back at him. Her voice had a strange echoing quality.

All sound became faraway, muffled, like hearing something from deep underwater. Still, Brett's ears picked up the tell-tale click as one of the men pulled a gun from beneath his blazer and knocked the hammer back, aiming it at the girl, ready to fire. "Hey!" he shouted, calling the attention of the men. He rushed over to a nearby tin trash can, dented and rusted, and pulled off the lid. With a quick twist of the waist and flick of the wrist he flung the lid like a frisby towards the heads of the group of men.

With a loud thunk and then an echoing crash of metal on pavement, the can lid knocked over one of the suited men and fell to the ground. One of his mates knelt down to check the fallen one's pulse with his fingers. "He's dead." The kneeling suit declared to the others, looking up at Brett with ice in his eyes. "You killed him. You killed Fred." All eyes were on Brett but his eyes were glancing at the woman, who'd fallen to her knees with her hands over her ears, her shoulders trembling from heavy sobs. Nice going, jackass, he thought to himself as the other suits started to move in on him.

But this could be good he pondered as he grabbed another lid and flung it, not bothering to aim. He spun on his heel and sprinted from the alley, looking behind him as he turned the corner. As he had hoped, the men chased him, and what was more, it was all of them, like they could not move unless as a single unit. This struck Brett as odd, but he would worry about it later. He had managed to get the men away from the girl, so what was he to do now that they were chasing him?

[Lilith]

When he opened his eyes that morning, Brett didn't think he was going to be able to face the monotony of yet another day in the office. Slogging away at paperwork with a cup of coffee in one hand and his pen in the other wasn't exactly how he'd dreamed up his future as a child. When he was young, he wanted to be a fireman or a cowboy or an awesome astronaut that shot aliens with a laser. Alas, Brett's childhood imagination, like so many others, wilted and withered into almost nothing when faced with the reality of adulthood. Wistfully, Brett gazed out of his bedroom window, wondering what would happen if he just jumped in the car and started driving away, with no intention of coming back.

For a short time he just sat day-dreaming, imagining scenarios in his head as to what he could do if he just gave up on his current existence and set off to find a new one. 'I could buy a boat...live out on the ocean...I could be a fisherman! A pleasant, simple life...I could find myself a nice, comely wench to marry...comely wench? Where did that come from?...' His focus was broken suddenly by a movement on the street below. He frowned slightly as he watched a young girl run down the pavement, continually looking back over her shoulder as if she was being followed. She made a quick turn down an alleyway situated across from his building, and here she paused. Even from this distance he could see that she was panting from her exertions. She moved and peeked around the edge of the wall against which she was leaning, back the way she'd come.

He followed her line of sight down the street. Very few came down this way, though there was the odd person that flitted through here to a more bustling part of the city, so Brett found it odd when he saw a group of well dressed businessmen, brandishing sleek sunglasses and scowls, marching their way forward. The way they walked was almost mechanical, and their formation, that of a triangle, was too perfect, too practiced. He glanced back to the girl, nearly jumping out of his skin when he met her eyes, a bright emerald green, and saw the pleading in them.

He didn't know why, but Brett felt an overwhelming, inescapable urge to help the girl. Quickly he glanced around his room for his hoodie and a pair of jogging shorts to throw on over his underwear he normally slept in. Once he was dressed, Brett gave another look out the window to see where the girl and her entourage had gone. She was still out there, but now she was cornered in the alley right around the corner of his apartment building, the group of suited men approaching steadily. Swearing, Brett took off and sprinted out of his apartment, thundering down the steel stairway just outside of the firedoors of his hallway.

He kept sprinting, all the way to the edge of the alley. There he paused and took a moment to catch his breath. With a final steadying exhale he pressed himself close to the wall and peeked around it. The men were very close to her now. The one at the head of the triangle had stepped out of formation and was holding his hand out to her. The girl shook her head hard and Brett could see tears streaming down her face. His stomach clenched at the sight. Straining his ears he could barely overhear what the man was saying to her. "It's time to come back Elinna. Your duty to the Foundation must come first. The baby can nev-" He's cut short by the woman screaming back at him. Her voice had a strange echoing quality.

All sound became faraway, muffled, like hearing something from deep underwater. Still, Brett's ears picked up the tell-tale click as one of the men pulled a gun from beneath his blazer and knocked the hammer back, aiming it at the girl, ready to fire. "Hey!" he shouted, calling the attention of the men. He rushed over to a nearby tin trash can, dented and rusted, and pulled off the lid. With a quick twist of the waist and flick of the wrist he flung the lid like a frisby towards the heads of the group of men.

With a loud thunk and then an echoing crash of metal on pavement, the can lid knocked over one of the suited men and fell to the ground. One of his mates knelt down to check the fallen one's pulse with his fingers. "He's dead." The kneeling suit declared to the others, looking up at Brett with ice in his eyes. "You killed him. You killed Fred." All eyes were on Brett but his eyes were glancing at the woman, who'd fallen to her knees with her hands over her ears, her shoulders trembling from heavy sobs. Nice going, jackass, he thought to himself as the other suits started to move in on him.

But this could be good he pondered as he grabbed another lid and flung it, not bothering to aim. He spun on his heel and sprinted from the alley, looking behind him as he turned the corner. As he had hoped, the men chased him, and what was more, it was all of them, like they could not move unless as a single unit. This struck Brett as odd, but he would worry about it later. He had managed to get the men away from the girl, so what was he to do now that they were chasing him?

His eyes looked quickly around himself and he spotted a white utility van that was licensed to the electrical company working on the power lines that were having trouble near his apartment building. Perfect! Brett sprinted behind the van and yanked open the back door, threw himself inside and slammed the doors shut. Moving at high speed, Brett searched quickly through the equipment and odds and ends, coming up with a spare jumpsuit that would label him as an electrician tech. Grinning at his own genius, he slipped into the blue jumpsuit and pulling the zipper shut, kicking his own clothes back in a dark corner of the van, then he clambered up to the front of the vehicle and took a peak out of the open passenger window.

[PopeAlessandrosXVIII]

When he opened his eyes that morning, Brett didn't think he was going to be able to face the monotony of yet another day in the office. Slogging away at paperwork with a cup of coffee in one hand and his pen in the other wasn't exactly how he'd dreamed up his future as a child. When he was young, he wanted to be a fireman or a cowboy or an awesome astronaut that shot aliens with a laser. Alas, Brett's childhood imagination, like so many others, wilted and withered into almost nothing when faced with the reality of adulthood. Wistfully, Brett gazed out of his bedroom window, wondering what would happen if he just jumped in the car and started driving away, with no intention of coming back.

For a short time he just sat day-dreaming, imagining scenarios in his head as to what he could do if he just gave up on his current existence and set off to find a new one. 'I could buy a boat...live out on the ocean...I could be a fisherman! A pleasant, simple life...I could find myself a nice, comely wench to marry...comely wench? Where did that come from?...' His focus was broken suddenly by a movement on the street below. He frowned slightly as he watched a young girl run down the pavement, continually looking back over her shoulder as if she was being followed. She made a quick turn down an alleyway situated across from his building, and here she paused. Even from this distance he could see that she was panting from her exertions. She moved and peeked around the edge of the wall against which she was leaning, back the way she'd come.

He followed her line of sight down the street. Very few came down this way, though there was the odd person that flitted through here to a more bustling part of the city, so Brett found it odd when he saw a group of well dressed businessmen, brandishing sleek sunglasses and scowls, marching their way forward. The way they walked was almost mechanical, and their formation, that of a triangle, was too perfect, too practiced. He glanced back to the girl, nearly jumping out of his skin when he met her eyes, a bright emerald green, and saw the pleading in them.

He didn't know why, but Brett felt an overwhelming, inescapable urge to help the girl. Quickly he glanced around his room for his hoodie and a pair of jogging shorts to throw on over his underwear he normally slept in. Once he was dressed, Brett gave another look out the window to see where the girl and her entourage had gone. She was still out there, but now she was cornered in the alley right around the corner of his apartment building, the group of suited men approaching steadily. Swearing, Brett took off and sprinted out of his apartment, thundering down the steel stairway just outside of the firedoors of his hallway.

He kept sprinting, all the way to the edge of the alley. There he paused and took a moment to catch his breath. With a final steadying exhale he pressed himself close to the wall and peeked around it. The men were very close to her now. The one at the head of the triangle had stepped out of formation and was holding his hand out to her. The girl shook her head hard and Brett could see tears streaming down her face. His stomach clenched at the sight. Straining his ears he could barely overhear what the man was saying to her. "It's time to come back Elinna. Your duty to the Foundation must come first. The baby can nev-" He's cut short by the woman screaming back at him. Her voice had a strange echoing quality.

All sound became faraway, muffled, like hearing something from deep underwater. Still, Brett's ears picked up the tell-tale click as one of the men pulled a gun from beneath his blazer and knocked the hammer back, aiming it at the girl, ready to fire. "Hey!" he shouted, calling the attention of the men. He rushed over to a nearby tin trash can, dented and rusted, and pulled off the lid. With a quick twist of the waist and flick of the wrist he flung the lid like a Frisbee towards the heads of the group of men.

With a loud thunk and then an echoing crash of metal on pavement, the can lid knocked over one of the suited men and fell to the ground. One of his mates knelt down to check the fallen one's pulse with his fingers. "He's dead." The kneeling suit declared to the others, looking up at Brett with ice in his eyes. "You killed him. You killed Fred." All eyes were on Brett but his eyes were glancing at the woman, who'd fallen to her knees with her hands over her ears, her shoulders trembling from heavy sobs. Nice going, jackass, he thought to himself as the other suits started to move in on him.

But this could be good he pondered as he grabbed another lid and flung it, not bothering to aim. He spun on his heel and sprinted from the alley, looking behind him as he turned the corner. As he had hoped, the men chased him, and what was more, it was all of them, like they could not move unless as a single unit. This struck Brett as odd, but he would worry about it later. He had managed to get the men away from the girl, so what was he to do now that they were chasing him?

His eyes looked quickly around himself and he spotted a white utility van that was licensed to the electrical company working on the power lines that were having trouble near his apartment building. Perfect! Brett sprinted behind the van and yanked open the back door, threw himself inside and slammed the doors shut. Moving at high speed, Brett searched quickly through the equipment and odds and ends, coming up with a spare jumpsuit that would label him as an electrician tech. Grinning at his own genius, he slipped into the blue jumpsuit and pulling the zipper shut, kicking his own clothes back in a dark corner of the van, then he clambered up to the front of the vehicle and took a peak out of the open passenger window.

The suits were working their way slowly up the street now. One after another a black clad man would dart out of the pack, search an area, then dart back to the others. Taking another calming breath he glanced over to the passenger seat and grinned wide as he spotted a ball cap resting on the seat cushion. Snatching it up he popped in on his head and settled back into the seat as if he was sleeping. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the suits passing by the truck and tried to remain calm, letting his eyes drift close as he caught sight of one of them walking up to the van door. After counting to 20 in his head he opened his eyes again and peeked outside. The suits were moving up the street still. As casually as possible he opened the van door and slipped out. Careful not to look too obvious he made his way swiftly back to the alley where they'd left the woman.

[Vishal Muralidharan]

When he opened his eyes that morning, Brett didn't think he was going to be able to face the monotony of yet another day in the office. Slogging away at paperwork with a cup of coffee in one hand and his pen in the other wasn't exactly how he'd dreamed up his future as a child. When he was young, he wanted to be a fireman or a cowboy or an awesome astronaut that shot aliens with a laser. Alas, Brett's childhood imagination, like so many others, wilted and withered into almost nothing when faced with the reality of adulthood. Wistfully, Brett gazed out of his bedroom window, wondering what would happen if he just jumped in the car and started driving away, with no intention of coming back.

For a short time he just sat day-dreaming, imagining scenarios in his head as to what he could do if he just gave up on his current existence and set off to find a new one. 'I could buy a boat...live out on the ocean...I could be a fisherman! A pleasant, simple life...I could find myself a nice, comely wench to marry...comely wench? Where did that come from?...' His focus was broken suddenly by a movement on the street below. He frowned slightly as he watched a young girl run down the pavement, continually looking back over her shoulder as if she was being followed. She made a quick turn down an alleyway situated across from his building, and here she paused. Even from this distance he could see that she was panting from her exertions. She moved and peeked around the edge of the wall against which she was leaning, back the way she'd come.

He followed her line of sight down the street. Very few came down this way, though there was the odd person that flitted through here to a more bustling part of the city, so Brett found it odd when he saw a group of well dressed businessmen, brandishing sleek sunglasses and scowls, marching their way forward. The way they walked was almost mechanical, and their formation, that of a triangle, was too perfect, too practiced. He glanced back to the girl, nearly jumping out of his skin when he met her eyes, a bright emerald green, and saw the pleading in them.

He didn't know why, but Brett felt an overwhelming, inescapable urge to help the girl. Quickly he glanced around his room for his hoodie and a pair of jogging shorts to throw on over his underwear he normally slept in. Once he was dressed, Brett gave another look out the window to see where the girl and her entourage had gone. She was still out there, but now she was cornered in the alley right around the corner of his apartment building, the group of suited men approaching steadily. Swearing, Brett took off and sprinted out of his apartment, thundering down the steel stairway just outside of the firedoors of his hallway.

He kept sprinting, all the way to the edge of the alley. There he paused and took a moment to catch his breath. With a final steadying exhale he pressed himself close to the wall and peeked around it. The men were very close to her now. The one at the head of the triangle had stepped out of formation and was holding his hand out to her. The girl shook her head hard and Brett could see tears streaming down her face. His stomach clenched at the sight. Straining his ears he could barely overhear what the man was saying to her. "It's time to come back Elinna. Your duty to the Foundation must come first. The baby can nev-" He's cut short by the woman screaming back at him. Her voice had a strange echoing quality.

All sound became faraway, muffled, like hearing something from deep underwater. Still, Brett's ears picked up the tell-tale click as one of the men pulled a gun from beneath his blazer and knocked the hammer back, aiming it at the girl, ready to fire. "Hey!" he shouted, calling the attention of the men. He rushed over to a nearby tin trash can, dented and rusted, and pulled off the lid. With a quick twist of the waist and flick of the wrist he flung the lid like a Frisbee towards the heads of the group of men.

With a loud thunk and then an echoing crash of metal on pavement, the can lid knocked over one of the suited men and fell to the ground. One of his mates knelt down to check the fallen one's pulse with his fingers. "He's dead." The kneeling suit declared to the others, looking up at Brett with ice in his eyes. "You killed him. You killed Fred." All eyes were on Brett but his eyes were glancing at the woman, who'd fallen to her knees with her hands over her ears, her shoulders trembling from heavy sobs. Nice going, jackass, he thought to himself as the other suits started to move in on him.

But this could be good he pondered as he grabbed another lid and flung it, not bothering to aim. He spun on his heel and sprinted from the alley, looking behind him as he turned the corner. As he had hoped, the men chased him, and what was more, it was all of them, like they could not move unless as a single unit. This struck Brett as odd, but he would worry about it later. He had managed to get the men away from the girl, so what was he to do now that they were chasing him?

His eyes looked quickly around himself and he spotted a white utility van that was licensed to the electrical company working on the power lines that were having trouble near his apartment building. Perfect! Brett sprinted behind the van and yanked open the back door, threw himself inside and slammed the doors shut. Moving at high speed, Brett searched quickly through the equipment and odds and ends, coming up with a spare jumpsuit that would label him as an electrician tech. Grinning at his own genius, he slipped into the blue jumpsuit and pulling the zipper shut, kicking his own clothes back in a dark corner of the van, then he clambered up to the front of the vehicle and took a peak out of the open passenger window.

The suits were working their way slowly up the street now. One after another a black clad man would dart out of the pack, search an area, then dart back to the others. Taking another calming breath he glanced over to the passenger seat and grinned wide as he spotted a ball cap resting on the seat cushion. Snatching it up he popped in on his head and settled back into the seat as if he was sleeping. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the suits passing by the truck and tried to remain calm, letting his eyes drift close as he caught sight of one of them walking up to the van door. After counting to 20 in his head he opened his eyes again and peeked outside. The suits were moving up the street still. As casually as possible he opened the van door and slipped out. Careful not to look too obvious he made his way swiftly back to the alley where they'd left the woman.

"Do you have any money on you?" Brett spun around and came face to face with the woman he'd seen earlier. Her eyes were icy-cold, her grim features set into her skin that you would think she was incapable of any emotion. With one hand clutching her womb, and the other holding what appeared to be a pistol, she repeated her question.

[Key]

When he opened his eyes that morning, Brett didn't think he was going to be able to face the monotony of yet another day in the office. Slogging away at paperwork with a cup of coffee in one hand and his pen in the other wasn't exactly how he'd dreamed up his future as a child. When he was young, he wanted to be a fireman or a cowboy or an awesome astronaut that shot aliens with a laser. Alas, Brett's childhood imagination, like so many others, wilted and withered into almost nothing when faced with the reality of adulthood. Wistfully, Brett gazed out of his bedroom window, wondering what would happen if he just jumped in the car and started driving away, with no intention of coming back.

For a short time he just sat day-dreaming, imagining scenarios in his head as to what he could do if he just gave up on his current existence and set off to find a new one. 'I could buy a boat...live out on the ocean...I could be a fisherman! A pleasant, simple life...I could find myself a nice, comely wench to marry...comely wench? Where did that come from?...' His focus was broken suddenly by a movement on the street below. He frowned slightly as he watched a young girl run down the pavement, continually looking back over her shoulder as if she was being followed. She made a quick turn down an alleyway situated across from his building, and here she paused. Even from this distance he could see that she was panting from her exertions. She moved and peeked around the edge of the wall against which she was leaning, back the way she'd come.

He followed her line of sight down the street. Very few came down this way, though there was the odd person that flitted through here to a more bustling part of the city, so Brett found it odd when he saw a group of well dressed businessmen, brandishing sleek sunglasses and scowls, marching their way forward. The way they walked was almost mechanical, and their formation, that of a triangle, was too perfect, too practiced. He glanced back to the girl, nearly jumping out of his skin when he met her eyes, a bright emerald green, and saw the pleading in them.

He didn't know why, but Brett felt an overwhelming, inescapable urge to help the girl. Quickly he glanced around his room for his hoodie and a pair of jogging shorts to throw on over his underwear he normally slept in. Once he was dressed, Brett gave another look out the window to see where the girl and her entourage had gone. She was still out there, but now she was cornered in the alley right around the corner of his apartment building, the group of suited men approaching steadily. Swearing, Brett took off and sprinted out of his apartment, thundering down the steel stairway just outside of the firedoors of his hallway.

He kept sprinting, all the way to the edge of the alley. There he paused and took a moment to catch his breath. With a final steadying exhale he pressed himself close to the wall and peeked around it. The men were very close to her now. The one at the head of the triangle had stepped out of formation and was holding his hand out to her. The girl shook her head hard and Brett could see tears streaming down her face. His stomach clenched at the sight. Straining his ears he could barely overhear what the man was saying to her. "It's time to come back Elinna. Your duty to the Foundation must come first. The baby can nev-" He's cut short by the woman screaming back at him. Her voice had a strange echoing quality.

All sound became faraway, muffled, like hearing something from deep underwater. Still, Brett's ears picked up the tell-tale click as one of the men pulled a gun from beneath his blazer and knocked the hammer back, aiming it at the girl, ready to fire. "Hey!" he shouted, calling the attention of the men. He rushed over to a nearby tin trash can, dented and rusted, and pulled off the lid. With a quick twist of the waist and flick of the wrist he flung the lid like a Frisbee towards the heads of the group of men.

With a loud thunk and then an echoing crash of metal on pavement, the can lid knocked over one of the suited men and fell to the ground. One of his mates knelt down to check the fallen one's pulse with his fingers. "He's dead." The kneeling suit declared to the others, looking up at Brett with ice in his eyes. "You killed him. You killed Fred." All eyes were on Brett but his eyes were glancing at the woman, who'd fallen to her knees with her hands over her ears, her shoulders trembling from heavy sobs. Nice going, jackass, he thought to himself as the other suits started to move in on him.

But this could be good he pondered as he grabbed another lid and flung it, not bothering to aim. He spun on his heel and sprinted from the alley, looking behind him as he turned the corner. As he had hoped, the men chased him, and what was more, it was all of them, like they could not move unless as a single unit. This struck Brett as odd, but he would worry about it later. He had managed to get the men away from the girl, so what was he to do now that they were chasing him?

His eyes looked quickly around himself and he spotted a white utility van that was licensed to the electrical company working on the power lines that were having trouble near his apartment building. Perfect! Brett sprinted behind the van and yanked open the back door, threw himself inside and slammed the doors shut. Moving at high speed, Brett searched quickly through the equipment and odds and ends, coming up with a spare jumpsuit that would label him as an electrician tech. Grinning at his own genius, he slipped into the blue jumpsuit and pulling the zipper shut, kicking his own clothes back in a dark corner of the van, then he clambered up to the front of the vehicle and took a peak out of the open passenger window.

The suits were working their way slowly up the street now. One after another a black clad man would dart out of the pack, search an area, then dart back to the others. Taking another calming breath he glanced over to the passenger seat and grinned wide as he spotted a ball cap resting on the seat cushion. Snatching it up he popped in on his head and settled back into the seat as if he was sleeping. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the suits passing by the truck and tried to remain calm, letting his eyes drift close as he caught sight of one of them walking up to the van door. After counting to 20 in his head he opened his eyes again and peeked outside. The suits were moving up the street still. As casually as possible he opened the van door and slipped out. Careful not to look too obvious he made his way swiftly back to the alley where they'd left the woman.

"Do you have any money on you?" Brett spun around and came face to face with the woman he'd seen earlier. Her eyes were icy-cold, her grim features set into her skin that you would think she was incapable of any emotion. With one hand clutching her womb, and the other holding what appeared to be a pistol, she repeated her question.

Brett didn't know whether this was a threat or a plea. Her weapon, if that's what it was, wasn't pointed at him. But when he looked into her eyes, he had the uneasy feeling that she could kill him without a second thought. "Are you all right?" he asked.