Runaways were never easy to talk to. Often they were extremely defensive. Some had mental trauma. These last few weeks had probably introduce Cliff into an entire side of reality that no one liked. Long term homeless people had a system. Newbies to the lifestyle often didn't catch on quick enough.

Experience taught them to migrate from place to place. They *conversed about safe areas to bed down or shelters that weren’t full. Some shared tips on getting handouts if they weren’t one of the crazy ones. New people spent their first few weeks with starvation and screwed up sleep schedules. The hunger made a person snappy, prone to overreacting, and desperate.

Four years of my life had been loosely defined as transient. Traveling around like I did often meant there was no good place to stay the night. It took a week or two to find a steady job. Another few days after getting funds would free me up to search for some lowbrow hotel or home which didn’t require background checks.

Then there was arguing with other transients. Picking the wrong place to bed down could result in being kicked, pissed on, having things thrown in your face. Being startled led me to rapid violence and often a night of escaping police cars. Planning ahead was not one of my gifts.

I had to check the connection a few times, even though I was sitting right next to Cliff. His jacket was bundled up under my arm, twisted so the lettering wouldn't show. That would have been a dead give away.

The teen felt disgruntled. His posture was defensive. Hunched as far back in the seat as he could get. Dirty looks were shot at me, at least it seemed like a dirty look. Details were still difficult, especially with his strange double layered face.

Our bus drove off towards destinations unknown. I doubt Cliff knew either. He had probably managed to scrape a few dollars together and sat on the bus to get warm and maybe take a nap. Sitting in the back was a good way to be near the heaters.

"Long day," I said.

Cliff didn't respond which was fine. Enough chatter would prod him into conversation sooner or later. Maybe the teen would even feel uncomfortable enough to get off the vehicle.

"Hope this bus goes downtown," I said while not caring in the least. Mrs. Richards had probably driven after us. "Getting around is harder than I thought."

We sat there doing nothing as the bus hit another stop, then pulled forward.

"Not a talker? That's fine. Me either." My words were slow.

Dysfunctional eyesight didn’t prevent me from feeling Cliff’s smirk. The teen's seeming disbelief of my desire for conversation bothered me. Normally I didn’t like talking. Isolation these last few days didn’t help. I wanted to hear something besides the clanking of barbells and running water. One hand scratched at my chin trying to figure out what else to say. Something that would get a conversation out of the young man without inducing panic.

"Where you from?" I turned, taking up this huge amount of space. Cliff inched away. I was probably too much person in his personal bubble.

"You're blind, right? How can you even tell I'm here?" Came the response. It sounded like your stereotypical teenage male. Snide, full of confidence that I was stupid.

"Blind, not deaf. You breathe loud." Let him think I was a wolf. Never mind that wolves were rarely blind, and those that were often had traveling companions.

The silence went on. At least Cliff had said something. It caught me off guard. I wanted to see how his face moved while speaking. To see which mouth moved around, if it was the weird older outside one, or the younger inner one. I was paying attention when Cliff asked his next question.  

"Why did you sit here then?" He asked. The inquiry made him sound far smarter than I might have guessed for a runaway.

"Blindness makes it hard to see the stops.” The bus actually said which stop we were at out loud but Cliff might not have noticed.

"So tell the driver." His body scooted closer to the window.

"Or you could tell me if we reach downtown,” I said.

The teen snorted. His younger face had to be the right one. It matched his attitude. When he spoke the sync between faces was off just a little. The older one lagging just after the younger one. I think. More talking would help me check the theory.

"This bus doesn't go downtown," He said with a heavy shudder.

"Really?” I felt like smiling but couldn’t manage it. Using my abilities made me grumpy. “How do I get there?"

"Call a cab." Cliff talked to the window. He didn't want to be part of this conversation. Me either to be honest. I scanned him over a few times with my other sight. Anything outside the bus window was a blur, but inside was becoming clearer.

"They have cabs for blind people?"

Cliff shrugged. I pretended not to notice.

"You hear me?" I said.

"I said I don't know." Attitude layered his words. Every time he talked it became more obvious that the teen was miserable. My tactile senses were minimal but enough to tell he had no coat and holes existed in both pant knees. Nights around here had to be getting cold.

I handed Cliff his lettered jacket then said, "Here. It'll be chilly tonight."

Cliff didn't even notice his sports coat.

"Can't stay on the bus all night, they shut down," I said while shaking the thick cloth.

"What business is it of yours?!" The teen yelled. His pulse raced against my senses like a drum beat. Being this close and holding the jacket made it effortless to feel. I sat there, trying to stay calm. Even if he did actually hit me it probably wouldn't hurt. Not after Roy's fists.

"It’s not my business. But your mother is worried about you." I said. At least Cliff was actively talking now. His heart skipped a few beats and I felt his body flush with heat. Those physical signs could have been any number of things. Embarrassment, confusion, anger, or excitement.

I felt his arm pull on the stop request line. The vehicle slowed down and Cliff pushed past me to get off the bus. My stumbling footsteps following after.

The driver didn't say anything. They weren't paid enough to care and had a job to do. Asking questions wasn't part of it. Hell, he probably wouldn't remember me in five minutes anyway. Not just because of Muni's trinket. The item helped others forget about me, and made it difficult for self-awareness. It was a woven thing of beads and threads that was tied around my, something. Leg, or wrist? Maybe my manhood? I couldn't remember exactly where.

"Cliff!" I shouted. The teen was moving faster than I could. He didn’t run but certainly traveled fast. My head tilted while the footsteps etched into my mind. Tracking with the jacket would be hard while on the go.

He deserved points for attempted cleverness. Cars honked at me as I crossed driveways unexpectedly. Following the runaway was hard. That bubble of tangibility I used to see was barely worth mentioning.

I pulled at each connection I had to try and get a clear picture. Briefly I tugged on Evan's, then my home, then again on Cliff's. It was like checking both ways before crossing the street. The sensory overload was deafening. There were a lot of people around. Vehicles rolled by. Footsteps pounded against asphalt. My ears were drowning and the sea of pressures from various objects threatened to make it worse.

"Cliff!" I shouted again. He didn't slow or turn around. I navigated across the landscape. People were everywhere. We must be in a set of stores, maybe near a park. Brief checks against home and Evan lit up a small trail of landscape but made my head throb. This hub was busy.

I stepped off the curb into the middle of a street. It felt empty but wasn’t. A lot of horns honked all at once. People shouted and cursed with their angry voices. My hand reached out and touched the hood of a still rumbling car. How had blatant traffic escaped my notice? Something about chasing Cliff was screwing with all my perceptions. More so than being blind was.

Going back wasn’t an option. I hustled across the street, navigating past warm cars and hung trucks. Each one honking violently at me. One asshole gassed his car at me. I pulled on my strength for a moment and slammed a fist down on his hood. The resulting dent got me called more names but at least he didn't try to run me over again.

Pulling on my abilities hurt like hell. They were essentially a worn muscle that was out of use. Especially with the overload fighting Roy that had robbed me of eyesight temporarily. I shouldn't be out here trying to work before recovering fully.

I finally survived the street and found a wall to lean against. Cliff grew further away. The teen could go wherever he wanted. I still had his jacket. Escape would be impossible. The connection would show me every movement of his body like it was my own feet traveling the sidewalk. Each breath of air, each beat of his heart, blink of eyelids, I felt them all.

He stopped in what felt like a quiet alley. Cliff huddled further down near a corner. I walked slowly, taking my time, not wanting to step out into traffic again. It had taken at least ten minutes to catch up with Cliff.

"Kid? You down there?" I felt rude implying he was young, but dammit he was.

"Your parents are worried." I stepped into the alley. Things felt odd here. Cliff was clear, as clear as a teen with two faces and a desire hide from me could be. "You have your phone still, right?"

Nothing.

"Can you at least call your mom? Tell her you're okay?"

More nothing.

"Hello?" I stepped down the alley slowly. For all I knew there could be an invisible spike trap on the floor. It wouldn't surprise me at this point. "Cliff?"

Only the pull of my abilities provided assistance. Otherwise, I would be a nearly blind man lost in an empty alleyway. I kept stepping and talking. My goal was not to sneak up on a runaway. Younger kids who did this were often foolish or got aggressive when they felt cornered.

"I ran away once myself." I started talking about bits of my past. Running away had happened more than once. "The people I stayed with, well they weren’t good or bad. They were just people."

Cliff paused. He was listening and might be crying or terrified. There was a hitch to his breath that triggered memories of years gone by. Portions that weren’t completely lost in the haze. I remembered living with a father and son above a gym, but their faces were blurred.

"The first time I was maybe twelve," I remembered turning thirteen. That had been a big year for some reason. "My foster father grounded me for getting into fights. I had been suspended from public school again. I fought children and the teachers, and was always angry."

He said nothing still. It felt like pouring out my life story to a wall.

"Not like you, Cliff, your mom said you did great in school. You could go pro I hear. That would be good, my foster father had dreams of a football linebacker." The older man's face couldn’t be pictured. There was an itching sensation on my arm that went along with trying to recall him. I was getting confused again but needed to fix my words. This was about Cliff, not me.

"That went out the window. Suspensions make it hard to get into sports programs." Being in school had been easier back then. Sector Identifications weren't required, just documentation on the parents.

There was a slight scramble of noise as Cliff pushed himself back against the wall. I could feel cold brick seeping through shirt and dampness in both the teen’s shoes.

"They found me each time, somehow. I was thankful for it." I was lucky that they brought me back home despite my issues. It could have been any number of other unsavory people. Drug dealers, street gangs, the police.

Mrs. Richards’ son turned his head in my direction.

"It was hard, school was, everyone was afraid of me. I ran away after being dropped off one day because I couldn’t stand being looked at, by those people again. Not like you, your mom said you have a ton of friends."

Cliff’s pulse jumped and his body jerked. The youngster had one hand up over his face but remained hidden.

"There was this other kid." It was over twenty years ago, his name escaped me. "He had run away from school, the only kid who actually talked to me. I remember roaming the streets trying to find him. If he could make it, maybe I could." I was maybe six feet away from Cliff and talked quietly.

I paused and sucked in a breath of air. The kid from my past had been a few years older but I couldn’t remember his name. He had seemed lost, always stared out the window with a leg that never stopped jerking up and down. Before he left, he had said ‘I’m going to find others like me’.

Daniel had said I was always searching for other members of The Hidden. I liked to think that vague memory in my past had been one of the reasons. Wolves, elves, even vampires, all those bastards had members of their kind to explain the rules and regulations. People like me fell through the cracks without ever understanding why we were different.

"He was dead. Overdose. Maybe fifteen." The memory bothered me. Why couldn’t I picture anyone's faces? Were they buried under the fog of alterations that Muni had done? Even my childhood? "And I don’t want to see that happen to you. Your parents care like my foster dad did.”

I still had Cliff's jacket. The alley felt weird. My arm held out the fabric in Cliff’s direction.

"Take the jacket at least. Then I can tell your mom that you're okay. Maybe she and Muni will let me be for awhile." My muttering was mostly to myself. Cliff hadn't moved from his hiding spot and may not until I left.

Cliff's jacket was draped over the side of a pile of crates. Mrs. Richards probably had something else to track him with if needed. It was a problem for someone else, though. I was going to get out of town and get away from the memories. The sooner I found my way back to the bar, the better. Feet started tracking a slow path out of the alley.

There was a shuffle of movement that made me pause. "Did Auntie Hramn send you?" Cliff had stood up to ask me a question. His voice sounded broken in spots.

I cocked my head in his direction. "Is that Muni's last name?"

"Yeah."

"Then she sent me, sort of." I couldn't tell what he was doing now. The jacket had been my link to the teen. Without it, I was blind as to his actions.

"Crap." Cliff said abruptly then started repeating himself.

"Why does that matter?”

"They’re looking for Muni, and I don't know if they'll let you go." His voice cracked as the words came out. I heard him shuffle towards where the jacket had been set. Shoes squished and pallets clattered to the ground.

"They?" I sniffed and turned around. My senses didn’t spread to the area. This place wasn’t mine and I had never walked this corner of the city. Even the very act of trying to lay claim hurt my head.

"Good luck, Mister." Cliff ran by me, there was a rustle of noise and confusion. He was escaping the alley. Footsteps fade off into the distance. I reached out for the jacket but he took it prior to dashing by me.

"Hello?" I was blind, but according to Muni's lost little lamb, someone else was here.

There was a slow stepping of feet. They walked past all the objects I stumbled into and maintained near silence. One person was in front of me maybe thirty feet based on the sounds. A slight scrape from above betrayed a possible second person. I tried to visually see the sources of noise but couldn’t. Even tracking my few available links didn't result in immediate information.

"Hello?" Maybe those noises had been imagined. Still, something was out there and it made my back twitch uncomfortably.  I needed to get back out into public view.

Nothing answered me.

God, the lack of answers grew ever more annoying. First Cliff hadn't completely engaged in conversation. Everyone didn’t like providing me answers. Come to think of it, if everyone refused to answer me, maybe they weren't the problem.

I grabbed something and threw it ahead of me. If there was someone, the noise might startle them, or amuse them. The bag of trash I found was simple enough. Tossing it down the alley resulted in lots of noise. Some from the material bouncing and sliding around. The rest from two people who started talking.

"Our little bird doesn't seem blind." A male voice came from down the alley, where I had come in. How did Cliff get by this person? Were they working together?

"More like a bat. He's not using eyes." A female spoke from further away.

"You sure this is one of Muni's?"

"Has to be. Who else would see past the charm?" The female responded.

"He did talk right past it. Though he doesn't seem like Muni's normal throwaways."

"It does seems odd." She didn't sound confused by it. She sounded like it didn't matter. They could have been remarking on the weather, or a funny pattern on toast.

"Who are you?" I interrupted their banter with a question. They seemed to be talking about me regarding one of my associates. Muni irritated me some days, but the woman had helped me too. In theory anyway.

"Should we answer the birdy?" The male seemed to ask a lot of questions.

"We are talking already."

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"If he's human." He said.

"Then he won't remember anyway." She followed up. The male always said something first then was followed by the woman saying something. Their back and forth around me was confusing and half mad.

"We could wait." He offered.

"She might be upset if we don't."

"Or we can."

"Yes, I'd rather we did." She probably nodded then their footsteps started going in opposite directions. The female was above me, the male in front. I couldn't tell if they had firearms, but I was willing to bet they did. Taking a shot or two in the back would be painful.

I tried to inch towards the exit instead.

"I wouldn't try birdy."

"You can if you want." She offered in follow-up. Something metallic clicked. The female, I think, had gotten down below somehow.

"We won't mind," They said in unison. I shuddered. There was no good option. I could do the dumb thing and try to break away.

Hell. I almost did exactly that. If my eyesight was still working it would have been a sure thing. If using my abilities wasn't somehow bad, well there were multiple reasons not to. For once in my life, I did the wise thing. Both my hands went up.

"He's surrendering."

"I can see that." The female said. She was getting closer. Their footsteps nearly sounded the same. Were it not for actual voices I would be even more lost than normal.

"We could question him." He offered.

"I guess."

"I don't want trouble." I said with my hands still up. This last week had been bad enough already in terms of new problems to deal with. "What do you want?"

"Money." He said quickly.

"Power." She said half a moment slower.

"That's not right. Money is power." The male said. He too had something in his hands. I heard it wave through the air. It was hard to get much more of an impression of these two.

"Yes, but power is power. It's better to have the thing itself."

"But money lets you buy oh so many things as well."

"That's true."

"Trade?" The male asked.

"Trade." The female answered.

"Power."

"Money." They both sounded perfectly happy about their decisions. I was even more bewildered. During their talking, I managed to sneak a few glimpses of other sight. They both wore the kind of professional suits Daniel would be in love with. Small cannons in their hands would hurt like hell if not outright kill me.

"I meant from me, if I answer your questions will you let me go?" The answer was usually no. It was no when someone asked me. The questions were just a hook to pull someone into worse problems.

"No." The male sounded certain. It was the expected answer.

"Perhaps, birdy." The female sounded playful.

I stepped back. Hoping that the sudden movement wouldn't get me shot, but maybe it'd bring some focus to the conversation.

"Is he running?"

"I hope so."

Hell. This was insane. I put my hands down and sat on the floor. It was gross, grimy, but that didn't matter. A grunt of pain escaped me. Anyone who says they want to die on their feet has never been as tired as I was. At a certain point staying upright mattered less than getting rest.

"You're boring her." He said with a clink of metal.

"You are." The female said.

"Just ask your stupid question or shoot me." I muttered.

"We can do both." The male offered.

"I'd love to." She probably was smiling happily. Both were just outside my limited range. Pulling on so many threads in the last hour had taken a lot out of me.

"Perhaps introductions?" He suggested with a slight change of pitch. I imagined that to mean the male was looking at his partner.

"Worthless." She scratched at something nearby.

"James." I raised a hand up. The new alias would help them forget me when Muni’s trinket kicked in. The former waitress had told me that the trinket I carried was activated by calling myself a different name. Doing so triggered some mystical disconnect between me from the past from me of the now.

"Don." The male was professional. His attitude felt downright pleasant despite the fact that he had a gun in his hands, ready to shoot.

"Dee." The female sounded upset.

"Hello, James." They said.

Their dynamic was very weird compared to others like Barnie and Ted.  Barnie did all the talking and Ted just echoed what he said half the time. This pair was more like a set of twins that both did the talking. Their builds felt similar, their nearly feline movements as they came close together. If it weren't for the guns I might assume they were pack. They had to be siblings at the least if they weren't outright twins. Wolves didn't use firearms, though.

"Don, Dee," I used their names in the male female order, no sense in riling them up when I was at a huge disadvantage. "Pardon me for asking, but what the hell do you want?"

"Muni." They said without hesitation.

"What the hell is a Muni?" Playing dumb sounded better than admitting anything. It was a gamble.

"Maybe you're Muni." Don said.

"Maybe we're remembering you wrong, birdy." Came her now predictable commentary.

"It's possible."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Dee finished up while sounded disgusted.

" I was just paid to find the kid and I'm not this Muni person, can I go?” My tracking skills should have been fairly obvious. Air sucked into my lungs with slow steadying breaths. Cliff had lured me here, hadn’t he? Hell.

"Amazing job that." He said.

"Yes. He was fairly well disguised." The female responded.

"Very well. Not even himself."

"You've done too well to just be human."

"I'm an actual tracker." I said while throwing both hands back up to halt their back and forth. It hurt my head in a different way then my exhausted abilities did. Trying to listen to people on either side of me, in a weird ping pong sort of conversation, was getting very annoying.

"Impossible." Don tapped one foot sharply.

"Ridiculous." She said.

"There's only around twenty of those in the entire sector."

"Less perhaps." Dee tapped once with mirrored irritation.

"I was paid to track him, his mom gave me the jacket. That's it." How long before they became bored with this series of questioning? It was easier to get a line of sight on them from this angle. When I pulled on the connection that went home there was a brief flash of the male's confused face. It seemed rounded at weird angles.

"Do you have a card?” He asked.

"Certification?" She followed up.

"No." I answered their questions with one word.

"What is going on here?" A new voice spoke up. This person was female but didn’t have an accent native to our western sector. It sounded from the Far East, which was rare. Immigration was extremely difficult, even visiting Western Sector from another country took some series legal backing according to Daniel.

"We were questioning him."

"The birdy might be Muni." Dee said in response to her possible brother’s statement.

The new voice was with them as well. Was this the mysterious her they'd mentioned? The person they said they should wait for? Maybe this entire conversation was just a funny sort of stall to allow her to catch up.

"He's not, yet she's touched him somehow. He has one of her trinkets." The third voice grew closer. It was harder to understand the words past her accent. "I can feel its foul twisting." She sounded disgusted.

"His name is James." Came the twin's unison words.

“He’s a very polite birdy.” Don said.

“Annoyingly docile.” The sister responded.

"I doubt his name is James." The third person said with a rough layer in her words. She probably didn’t believe them, which made me frown. My back twitched again with worry and an urge to flee.

"Watch him." She said quickly.

The other two moved in closer. I felt the cold press of metal in two places. Once between my shoulder blades, once to the side of my head. A hand snaked between the two guns and reached for my arm. Female fingers wove around a wrist. They felt the edges of something that I couldn't quite remember. Dexterous hands found threads and unknotted it rapidly.

"What are you doing?" I was worried. If she took that off there was no telling what would happen.

"Revealing your true colors." The eastern accented female answered.

The chatterbox twins were actually silent for this part. I could feel all their eyes on me as the third person pulled off the bracelet that had been put there years ago. According to Daniel, to Muni, that was what was suppressing my memories. Would it all come rushing back?

The answer was no. Nothing rushed back right away. My heart clenched and nervousness struck me. It might have been the chill from their guns next to my skull and chest. I sat there in stunned silence, same as the other three. A good thirty seconds passed with our mutual waiting. In all my pondering not once had it occurred to me that the trinket Muni gave me could just be removed that easily.

"Nothing?" The male asked.

"Nothing." The female responded with disappointment.

Who dares?

A sluggishly violent thought flashed by. Wind brushed through the alley carrying a whisper of the words with it. Trash rustled against the pavement and building sides. Something rumbled in the ground. My breath heated with thick air.

Who dares wake me?

The thought flashed by again. Worse, louder. Filth in the alley danced along the ground. Something was waking up. No, not something. I was waking up. It felt like my eyes were slowly opening for the first time in ages. The world hummed with energy. Walls lit up as electrical currents passed through them. Each swirl of air painted a picture.

“It will rain soon.” I said while looking up. There were raindrops high up there hanging heavily in clouds. The air felt alive with the promise of thunder.

“What’s that, birdy?”

“Rain?” Dee said in the wake of her brother's question.

Next was an emotion I thought was worn out, absent for days. Raw yet worse than it had been. *The anger of presence that had mostly slumbered for years and was being woken up forcibly. Jay, John, Jeff, James, and all the false names I went by slowly slipped away. They unraveled like a knitted sweater that had been held together by illusions. There was so much underneath it. Memories of another world. Memories of a family slowly disappearing as decades went by. Each moment was a new revelation that had been inherited.

My eyes felt wide and a growl escaped. The other three were saying something. The twins bouncing words back and forth. The third female shouted orders. I slipped away into a sea of red, lost in the mind of my true self.

"Kill it!" Red Tail shouts. Her sharp voice echoes around the surroundings. Still mostly blind. Have enough strength. Have enough. I smile. Is a nasty thing. Grin at odd angles. Wider than it should be.

"Yes!" Two shouts. Twins. Their pulses hammer in unison. I curl a hand. Twist my back. I am fast. Not that fast. Men's metal is dangerous. Dodge quickly before their fingers completely tense. Barest edge of bullets catch my skin. Puncture holes. Wounds start to seal.

I swam in the back of my own brain while something else controlled my actions. Not just helping, not just giving opinions or warnings. Strangely I didn't feel upset but instead reveled in the freedom to be myself. If it wasn't for the bubbling layers of anger this would have been fantastic. Under that was another thought, Daniel had given me a warning of some sort. Perhaps it was related to the smoldering asphalt where I had sat moments ago.

Shove garbage can. Anything else in range. All become missiles, sent flying. Leith Twins dodge. Different directions. Harmonious. Third runs in. Short blades flashing. Two. Dodging her. Dodging bullets. Leith Twins fire dangerous shots.

Fighting hurts. Dances absent. No beat. No rhythm. Survival only motivator.

Tired. So very tired.

In combat, there were two types of reactions. Fight, or flight. Flight was needed but unattainable until I gained some distance. There wasn't enough room, and my brain was still trying to process the shift in perceptions.

Female screams. Bystander. I feel her. Timber of voice familiar. Runaway's mother. Followed me. Unwise decision. She stands in the alleyway's mouth. Feel her energy, vibrant, alive. Arm pressed against face. A phone. She says words, a report, police, frantic.

Twins turn. Feel their shift. Feet spin against ground. Third pushes me back.

Wait. Memories remind me. A way out. An exit. Above. I jump. Arms wide, beat against the air. Swinging my body more than anything. Alley rustles.

My other mind chose to escape rather than fight while being wounded. There was a whoosh of air then I found myself standing on the rooftop. Gunfire followed my escape upwards. This was the wrong place to shoot a bullet. There were too many people nearby. Too much attention. Police would be here in minutes. Especially if Mrs. Richards was calling them already.

Crouch. Huddle against rooftop. Ashamed. Too weak to win. Body hurts. Mind hurts. Need rest. Will remember these three. Mark their weights. Their outlines, the shift of their bodies. Their sway. Commit to memory. Will not forget.

"After him!" Strange third yells. Twins protest. Unhappy. Argue that they are not dogs. Three voices exchange heated words.

Remembering them should be simple enough. Even if Muni’s trinket muddled me again I could still pick their voices out, hopefully. The bracelet was down in the alley somewhere. It was easy enough to sense, it'd been on my arm for years. Now that it wasn't there anymore I could actually remember the damned thing correctly. I had to make sure that Mrs. Richards was okay as well.

Arm wounded. Run fingers over damaged locations. Pick absently at bullet. Lodged between bones. Pain minor compared to headache. Almost able to ignore as I yank out the offending remains.

I tore at my shirt, pulling it apart and binding scrapes around the wounds. There was no time to wash them out. My head was flooding with images. Snips of the world I remembered. Of my father's memories, warnings, lessons, all sorts of guidance from someone who didn't exist anymore.

I had to shove all that aside. If the trinket, the bracelet, whatever it was, had been removed, then it was only a matter of time before a Hunter noticed. Especially that burst where I'd leapt up top. Not to mention the three in the alley. That woman was almost certainly a Hunter, she'd seen right past the trinket.

I crept further down the rooftop and tried to listen for the sound of anything. There didn’t seem to be much but my other senses took over and kept going.

Cast senses about. Then again. Alley feels clear void of Leith Twins. Someone below me barely moving. A huff of air against the ground. Young male holds older woman. Hand clamped over her mouth. Must get to them. Must find way down.

Feel rooftop careful for path. Listen to sirens in the distance. No time to search. Swing over edge. Dangle with one hurt arm. Drop down then grunt in pain.

Shuffle over to trinket. Ignore two hiding at the alley's entrance. Place woven bracelet back on. Need it now. Sooner, safer, easier. For all of us.

One thought at a time defined my past. My name was Jay Fields. I used to live with a small foster family that was kind but stern. Once I turned eighteen I left that temporary home to wander the coast for years before settling down. I used to work in collecting outstanding debts or security for the bar on rough nights. I enjoy finding people. My best friend is Daniel Crumfield, a Western Sector agent.

These things were true but felt incomplete. I tried to grab at memories as they slipped away to be covered by other moments in my life. Some perceived bits of the past shrank, others grew, and soon the landscape of my mind was a completely different thing. The trinket wasn't replacing memories, it was just covering up many of them. It felt like I was looking through a hole filled blanket and trying to create a person out of the few glimpses I could see.

Daniel had to be told what just happened. I managed to pull out my phone then press buttons. Only, I hurt a lot and everything was catching up. I fell, face first, onto the ground. All that remained was pain, then that too went away as my body shut down to heal.