The heat of the morning sun beat down on Mycah. The air was hazy with dust kicked up from the digging he about about twenty others were doing. The city of Merimar was going under another phase of construction, getting ready to expand almost a mile out from the current circular wall. Before that could happen, however, the new outer wall and the water lines would have to be built.

Mycah lifted another shovelful of dry soil in to a wheelbarrow and one of the other workers took it away, and he waited for them to bring back an empty one. He got a rare moment of rest as he waited, looking out at the open desert. Two of the three moons were washed out in the glaring morning sun that was almost too high to allow any further work until the evening. It was already hot enough for the pterosaurs to be out, and to Mycah that should have signaled the end of the work day. He shook his head a little as an empty wheelbarrow came back and he resumed his digging.

After another hour of work in the dry desert heat, Mycah was called back in along with the other workers. He couldn't help but be a little relieved, feeling too out in the open with the new outer wall still in construction. Back under the shelter of the old stone wall it was mercifully cooler, and he finally got a chance to wipe the sweat from his half-tanned half-burnt face. Mycah headed to his locker while avoiding most of the other workers. Too many of them were too loyal to the state, he thought. If he slipped and complained to the wrong person, he'd end up in the kind of trouble he couldn't bribe to get out of it.

He put on his water pack and put his identification card in his pocket. Mycah spun the lock shut as he turned to leave. Just wanting to collect his water credits for the day and get home, he wasn't pay attention when he walked right in to one of the other workers.

"Watch where you're going!" Without warning he was slammed back against the metal lockers. If he hadn't put hadn't put the water pack on, the metal locks and handles would have been digging in to his back. If he was in a little more pain, he probably would have tried to get out of there faster, but without that incentive his mouth got the better of him.

"Sorry, Doug... too long in the sun makes it hard to see my least favorite people." The hulking worker who held him in place had gotten in to fights with him before, and Mycah had always been on the losing end. It wasn't like Mycah couldn't hold his own, but Doug always seemed to have more than a few friends on his side if the fight went on too long.

"It would be a shame if there was an accident in here... wouldn't it, Mycah?" The arm holding him against the locking moved from his chest up closer to his neck and Mycah took a sharp breath as his airway was cut off.

Mycah started to panic when he couldn't breathe. His vision was starting to dim with Doug's ugly smirk as his last sight, until something distracted him and he let Mycah drop to the floor gasping. "What the hell is that?"

"What... what is /what/?" He was still coughing when he was half-lifted off the floor by one of the straps of his water pack. Doug had turned the strap to the other side, where a red diamond was embroidered on to the fabric.

"That symbol... where'd you get this?"

Mycah struggled out of Doug's grip and got to his feet. "What's it matter to you?" He paused to cough again. "I got it from a friend..." Which was true, more or less. Mycah was in good enough standing within Merimar, so he wasn't watched closely by police or neighbors, but he also wasn't closely associated with them to be viewed as a supporter. When his friend asked him to sell some goods manufactured outside of the city in one of the less than reputable markets, he did so, and got to keep one of them as payment.

"A friend?" Doug looked like he was going to say more, but then backed away. "Hmph. Some friend. Probably gave you a cheap piece of counterfeit crap." He still had the smug look on his face as he walked out. Mycah counted himself lucky, and winced at the bruise he felt forming on his neck. He hadn't seen the diamond mark. It had been careless not to notice something like that. Deciding to cut it out or cover it up as soon as he got home, Mycah headed out to collect his credits and leave.

On his way out, Mycah's ID card was scanned by the foreman, loading it with his pay. The incident in the locker room was already forgotten as he walked home. He was more concerned about the limited credits he was getting for this job and hoping it would get him through the month. Already deciding on which bills would have to wait, he didn't notice the car following slowly a few yards behind.

Mycah was nearly to his block when the car caught up with him and caught his attention.

"Mycah Vice?"

He paused and looked over at the car automatically when he heard his name. It was a black four door sedan with dark tinted windows, and he could only see the driver's eyes. "Yeah?"

Once he responded, the rear doors opened and two men in black clothing stepped out. Mycah looked around and knew he was in trouble. Everyone else on the narrow street had disappeared; only a few pairs of eyes peeking through blinds or curtains were left. When he started to back away and look for a place to run, they moved faster and grabbed his arms. One of them put a hand on his back above his water pack, and he felt something sharp through the fabric of his shirt.

"Make a fuss and you might not make it to the station in one piece," he heard growled in to his ear. Mycah figured it would be better not to fight and let them force him in to the back seat of the car.

Inside the car, the tinted windows made it nearly completely dark, and he could only barely see through a tinted glass partition separating the front and back seats. Though the working air conditioner was blasting cold air in his face, Mycah felt himself still sweating. Someone had found out about his trip to sell the counterfeit goods, he assumed. Buying, selling, or even just having something not made by one of the ten main colonies of Segunda Terra was enough to get branded and thrown out of most cities... He started to work up a story as he was driven away.

The car was completely silent up until the point they drove through the large metal and stone gate of the Boatyard. Mycah personally had never seen a boat, and didn't really understand the concept of one. He had never seen enough water to float a vehicle on in one place, and it seemed kind of pointless. He just knew that there was a kind of boat called a trawler, the same name as the machines that the police used to scrape information out of the minds of convicts. The goons sitting on either side of him relaxed and smirked at each other. No doubt they knew what he was brought there for and what the punishment would be.

The car stopped in a garage filled with similar vehicles and Mycah was shoved out into the burning heat. The driver was someone vaguely familiar but he couldn't place the memory. No one said anything as they all walked inside to a building that almost seemed hotter than it was outside. The four of them bypassed a booking station and he was led directly in to a stiflingly claustrophobic room. The only narrow window was barred and open to the air outside.

Mycah still had his water pack, and ignoring the mark on the inner strap, he tried to keep a cool head and rest while he could. Out in the hall he could hear someone who had to be the driver discussing his 'case'.

"The whistle blower said he had some counterfeit goods on him. He didn't try to ditch anything on the way in did he?"

"No, not a thing. It's probably still on him," he heard one of the body guards reply.

"Good. Search him. Do what you want, but leave him conscious. The trawlers are down for maintenance so I'm going to have to do this the old fashioned way." Mycah frowned at the way he seemed to be smiling at the words, and just tried to count his blessings. At least he wouldn't be trawled.

The two goons weren't as bad ad Mycah thought they would be. He'd gotten beat up worse in public elementary school, and he told them so. That probably made it worse. He had what would end up a black eye, a busted lip, and the satisfaction of watching them walk away angry by the time they were done roughing him up. When they left, they took his pack and ID card, and were calling for the driver. They called him Malik. Something about that was stirring in his memory and it wasn't something good.

He wiped away the blood dripping down his chin and tried to wait patiently for the interrogation to start. With any luck he'd be there for the night and end up home worse for wear but not dead. He stood up and told himself to be on his best behavior during this. Any mouthing off would get him in deeper trouble than he already was.

"Mycah Vice... It's been a long time since I've heard that name." The interrogator had a file on a clip board in his hand, as well as a bag made of silver heat resistant plastic with an electrical cord hanging out. He slid a small platform out of the rock and put the clip board and bag down, and then plugged in the cord.

Mycah wanted to know why the name was so familiar to him, but he clenched his jaw and stayed silent. He would only talk when something was asked of him. He knew that was the best way to go about this.

"Oh come on. Don't tell me you forgot about your big brother." Mycah glared and was about to demand to know what he was talking about when it all clicked in to place. His older brother, Malik, had gotten a scholarship to one of the most prestigious school in the rainforest jungles of the south pole when Mycah had only just started his own schooling. At home no one said anything about Malik but their mother, and even she had stopped talking about him years ago, other than to say they had a resemblance to each other. Mycah couldn't see it, not in the school pictures he sent back, but they had the same lean build and dark hair as their father.

He took a shaky breath and didn't respond at first, only shaking his head. "Why am I here? People don't get dragged in to the Boatyard for no good reason."

"You're right. People don't. But smuggling criminals do." Malik plucked a picture from the clip board and showed it to Mycah. It showed the red diamond on the underside of the water pack strap. "Surely you recognize that symbol," he said, keeping up a patronizing tone. When Mycah didn't respond he put the picture back and continued. "The Diamonds are a dangerous gang of outlaws. The most we really know is that they manufacture weapons on a scale that is no minor threat. If you have something like that, who's to tell what else you may have hiding?"

"You're using that as an excuse to search my house?"

"It's not an excuse. Don't you understand how serious we have to take the safety of the colonies? Anything associated with the four Suits has to be thoroughly investigated." Malik's expression turned from smug and teasing to deadly serious. "That includes anything that's related to me, especially by blood. If I let you go without finding out exactly where this came from, where do you think that would leave me?"

Mycah got that sinking feeling again. He heard about people squeaking through investigations like this with bribes or quick promises, but this would make it impossible for him to get away, even if he had been innocent.

"Now. Where did you get the bag?"

"From a friend."

"Which friend?"

He shook his head. He wouldn't give up names that easily.

"Why did they give it to you?"

"I helped them get rid of some things." Mycah winced once he realized what he said, it would only lead to tougher questions to dodge.

"Get rid of what? Bodies? Goods? Drugs? The more you cooperate, the more likely it is you'll get a fair trial." Malik seemed to be telling the truth... Mycah wanted to burst out that he wasn't even arrested in the first place, just snatched off the street, but he took a breath and forced himself to stay calm. Maybe his brother would be able to actually help, even if it was just ensure that things went smoothly.

"Goods. More packs like that one." Malik noted something down on the paper at that statement and nodded.

The interrogation went on for more than an hour, and it was like pulling teeth. Mycah never did give the name of the person who he helped, but it was no use. He had a feeling that they would be in the same place or worse soon. Malik seemed satisfied at the answers as well, and Mycah allowed himself a smidgeon of hope that he might get out of there with just some jail time or something equally tame.

"I think we have enough to go on from here." Malik turned to the door and handed someone the clip board.

"What now?"

"Now? Unfortunately... I'm afraid I have to brand you."

"What?! Why?!"

"You didn't have direct contact with the Diamonds, but you did assist someone who did. While not a capital offense, I've already told you I can't go easy on you."

Mycah's gaze involuntarily went to the silvery bag still on the small shelf. That one moment of distraction was enough for one of the roughnecks from before to go in and grab hold of him. Mycah fought to get away, but he was forced to the ground with one hand behind his back and the other stretched out in front of him.

Malik calmly unzipped the bag and took out a metal brand. He disconnected it from the electric cord, and the glowing metal made Mycah fight even more to get away. The shape of Merimar's symbol, two linked hollow diamonds, was etched in red in the small room. When Mycah wouldn't flatten out his hand to be branded, someone- he wasn't sure who by then- stepped on his wrist and put on more and more pressure until he finally put his palm flat on the floor.

There was a stinging hiss followed by him choking back a shout as the shape was burned in to his hand. The foot stepping on his wrist was gone, and he was almost forced to watch the brand pull away, peeling away a layer of skin that had melted to the hot iron.

"Give him back the bag. Take him to the edge of the city and send him on his way."

To Mycah it was a pain-hazed trip to the outer edge of the city, past even the construction of the new wall that would surround the colony. He was kicked to the ground once there, and his water pack- dry and empty now- was thrown next to him without any other ceremony.

It was just striking noon.

-

Mycah got to his feet as the car that dropped him off outside the city sped away. He dusted himself off the best he could and picked up the water pack. It was empty, but it would be good to have it just in case. His hand was aching and without any protection of the sun for miles it was going to be a tough trek. Determined to at least try to get away from the city that betrayed him, he started walking.

At first it was easy. He had worked in the middle of the day before, so he was no stranger to the extreme heat of the desert. But when he had pulled a day shift, there was at least plenty of water and shade when it was needed. Out here there was nothing. The only shade was his own shadow, and the mountain range that was full of the dangerous dinosaur like creatures that inhabited the planet. He still made that his goal. It would be impossible to get there in one day but it was better than just sitting there and dying without putting up a fight.

While he walked, Mycah tried to forget about his brother... He was only doing his job, he tried to remind himself, but he felt there was still something Malik could have done to prevent this. Instead of worrying about his brother, or how his family would react to his sudden disappearance, he tried to think about what would happen if he did find someone in this desolate area. There were only a few possibilities.

The best option was to stumble upon one of the smaller outposts of the colonies. With any luck he would get some water and food, maybe some treatment for his hand, and he on his way. At worst they would chase him out for being an outlaw, but it wasn't like he was double branded.

After that, the next best choice would be to find the Crows... He'd only heard stories about them, and only then it had been more like ghost stories. They were a group of not-quite outlaws, looked down on by most who lived in the large colonies or smaller outposts. Somehow they were able to survive in the desert without outside help, moving when and where they needed to, and totally unaffiliated with the planets governmental centers at either the north or the south pole. He had also heard that they had started out as a group of spies working for the colonies themselves, and when their handlers turned on them for having too much information, they banded together and moved to the desert to escape. But no matter who told the story or what their origin was, almost everyone said that they helped anyone out in the desert to at least get on their feet and to a safe place.

The worst thing to happen were if he was picked up by one of the Suits... They named themselves from the suits of a deck of playing cards: Diamonds, Hearts, Spades and Clubs. Each one had a different specialty, and all of them were in a tense sort of truce, the last time he heard anything about them. The warring gang factions were a major problem, according to the propaganda he read, constantly working to undermine the hard-won colonial city-states. If they found him, he would be pressed in to service or killed, with no other option.

He was starting to stumble as the slowly slid behind him to set. His busted lip had stopped bleeding some time ago, but without any water, he already felt sunburnt cracks threatening to make it even worse. It wasn't even close to dark when he felt his pace slowing. Even though he wanted to stop and take a break, he knew that if he did stop he probably wouldn't be able to start again. He forced himself to keep moving.

Mycah followed his shadow for the better part of the day. He started to notice something on the edge of his vision, but when he turned to look there was nothing there. He wrote it off as just a hallucination, a mirage caused by the heat and lack of water. By the time he had stopped sweating and his tongue felt like a dried out piece of leather, the movement on the edge of his peripheral vision stopped disappearing every time he turned. Five or six large spots were close to the horizon to his left and behind him. They didn't move when he looked at them, but always seemed to be in the same spot no matter how long he walked. Eventually he just started to ignore them, not noticing when they started to move a little closer.

The two visible moons were slowly starting to give light when he felt the air cool ever so slightly. It wasn't much of a difference, since the ground still radiated the heat from the day, but it was still something welcome. Only when he tripped over a jutting rock did he realize he had the complete darkness to deal with now instead of the baking heat. The next time he stumbled he fell and almost didn't get up.

A barking cough got his attention. The spots that were on the edges of his vision were no longer just spots. They were obvious moving creatures now, and they were getting very close. A pack of wolf dragons was surrounding him and there was no way that noise was a good thing. The large reptilians moved in packs, usually hunting the other dinos, but preying on anything weak and alone out in the desert. Dying of thirst and heat would be better than being torn apart by them. That gave Mycah the motivation to get back to his feet and stumble on through his pain and exhaustion.

His path was lit solely by moonlight when he saw a welcome sight. A large jumble of rock was close, and he was sure to get there soon. Even if it was only an outcropping of stone, it would offer a place to rest, and maybe a way to climb away from the wolf dragons still following him. By that time they were close enough for him to see their muted stripes and sharp-toothed snouts.

When Mycah got to the rocks and the wolf dragons were close enough that he could hear their growls and snuffs, he was disappointed to see that it was nothing that could help him. There was no where to hide in the gaps and spaces between the rocks, and the sides were so sheer that he couldn't climb up them on his own even at his full strength.

He practically collapsed at the base of the rocks when he got there. The pack of reptiles was cautiously surrounding him and there was no way he could fight them off in his condition. His best hope then was to hope he wasn't awake by the time they started ripping him apart.

As he started to fade out, there was an odd grinding noise close to him. He didn't have the energy to look around to find what was causing it, and simply wondered if that was the noise of being eaten and why it didn't hurt.

"Back off, stupid mutts!" There was a loud banging noise, and one of the dragons yelped and started to slink away. The others soon followed, hissing and growling as they retreated. "Can't believe my those things are why the alarms went off. I had it set for-" The irritated male voice suddenly paused. "Well what have we got here? Something half dead by the looks of you."

Mycah tried to answer, but as the wolf dragons finally disappeared out of sight he was swept into sleep, and wasn't sure if he'd ever wake up again.

-

Singer took a few more pot shots at the dragons before looking down at what had triggered the sensors and ruined his smoke break. He tossed his half-finished cigarette to the side before leaning down to look closer at the runaway. He poked the kids right hand, and through blackened and red skin he could make out the marks of Merimar.

"Well. I'm not letting you die out here. Let's go..." Singer lifted him in a fireman's carry and took him inside, and behind him the rocks slid back in to place.

-

The first thing Mycah felt when he woke up was cold. Not just warm stale air being blown around, but actual cold. And it was amazing. He looked down to see that his right hand was bandaged and numb, and his blistered and burnt skin was covered with something cool and soothing. If it weren't for the fact that he was still injured under the treatment, he would have been sure he had died and woken up in some sort of paradise.

Still partly asleep, and feeling like he was under the effect of some sort of sedative, he turned lazily when the door to the room he was in opened. "Who... who's there...?"

"Told you he'd be awake." A short girl who looked about his age walked in first, her long hair in a loose ponytail.

"Do you think I had a choice but to believe you?" Someone taller than the girl and even Mycah, if he was on his feet, walked in behind her. "I'm surprised he made it out this far at all, let alone survived the night."

Mycah looked blearily at both of them, blinking slowly. They didn't have much in common but the same design on the shoulder of their shirts, and the same tiny symbol marked on their cheekbones under their right eyes. It was a black three-lobed club. "Who are you?" he asked again.

"I'm Spin, and this is Singer," the girl said, introducing them. "I'm the Jack of Clubs, and he's the Queen of Clubs. Who are you?"

He could only stare at them both, and at the symbol tattooed on both of their faces. "Mycah. Why aren't I dead?"

"Because Singer thought you'd be useful." Spin tilted her head slightly as she looked at him, and he suppressed a shiver. He was reminded of a hungry animal examining prey. "Otherwise I'm sure you'd be filling the tummies of hungry wolf dragons."

"If you are who you say you are, the dragons might have been the better option."

Spin suddenly laughed and elbowed Singer in the side hard enough to make him wince. "Check it out! He has your sense of humor!"

"You two can talk later," Singer interrupted. "You need to rest. Once you're a little more healed I have more questions for you, and I'm sure Spin will, too." He stepped forward to press a few buttons on a beeping machine next to the bed, but the girl stopped him.

"Oh come on, don't be such a hard ass. At least show him what you can do first."

With an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes, Singer nodded. There was a blurring of his features and in just a few seconds, Singer was replaced with an exact copy of Spin, albeit with baggier clothes.

"Are you happy now?" Singer still had the same voice as before, and it was more than a little disturbing to see and hear. Once Mycah's slightly delayed reaction of shock was clear on his face, Singer shifted back to his first shape.

"No."

"Too bad." Singer pressed one last button on the console, and Mycah felt his limbs suddenly feel heavier. He didn't try to fight the sedatives. He knew he needed more rest and was glad to get more, especially when he could be killed at any time, if he wasn't as useful as the Jack and Queen of Clubs thought he would be.

He wasn't sure how long he slept, but he woke up feeling rested and peaceful still in that same room. His sunburn was gone, he noticed, and the bandage was gone from around his right hand. Most of the dead and burnt skin was gone and there was the beginnings of a scar instead of an open wound. When he tried to flex his hand, however, only his thumb and pinkie finger moved fully. The middle three fingers barely twitched and even they they moved sluggishly. The brand on the back of his hand was deeper and worse than he had originally thought.

When the door to the small room opened, Mycah was instantly wary. He had seen the tattoos on the two who had talked to him before. He had been 'rescued' by one of the Suits, the gangs that made the desert even more unsafe than it was on it's own. He tried to sit up a little more as someone walked in.

"Oh good. I was hoping you were awake." The shapeshifter who called himself Singer shut the door quietly behind him. "Your name is Mycah, right?"

He nodded. "You're Singer, right?"

"Yeah. How's your hand?"

Mycah tried to flex it again, and found that it was still weak and unable to move right. "Not good. It doesn't hurt, but something in it is messed up."

"That's what I thought. That looks worse than most brands I've seen. Did you do something to get the interrogator that angry?"

"It was my brother," Mycah said flatly. "He had to make sure the others didn't think he was going easy on a family member." He felt a sneer on his face as he spoke and tried to hide it at first, before he remembered that out here in the desert, no one cared if you complained about life in the colonies.

Singer only only nodded understandably. "I'll make sure you get patched up before too long. But I came in here to discuss options with you."

"Options? What kind of options?"

"For surviving of course. You've only got two. And I want to say first of all that I won't outright kill you. But if you make the wrong choice, you'll be dead in hours anyway."

"So get on with it." He didn't want to be teased or messed with.

"The first choice you have, and the choice I'd warn you to stay away from, is to have us fix your hand, give you some supplies and kick you out. Someone would escort you away from one of the entrances, and then you'd be on your own with three days of water and food. I wouldn't be the one to choose where you're kicked out at, and it's possible that you'd end up near a wolf dragon den, or at one of the entrances that's monitored by one of the other Suits. You'd be caught and trawled within in inch of your life, if they didn't just destroy your brain in the process. And if that didn't happen, I highly doubt someone raised in one of the main colonies could make it three days even with supplies." Singer said all of this in a very matter-of-fact manner.

"And the other option?"

"You join us. You get a place to stay, safe here underground, and taught how to live in the desert. I'll also personally make sure your hand gets fixed. You might find a few other benefits as well, but even with that it's obviously the best choice. Also if you make the wrong choice, the King of Clubs, might just have you hauled out to the back caves and shot."

"What?! You said you wouldn't kill me!"

"Exactly. I won't kill you. But Spider is a different person altogether. He wasn't very happy that I didn't just leave you for dino chow. He wants you watched so it can be determined that you aren't some sort of spy or something." The shape-shifter still looked like he didn't really care either way.

"So this is my choice?" Mycah spat out.

"Of course. I can recommend the better decision at least..."

Mycah leaned back on the bed and looked at the ceiling. What choice? he thought. There was no choice. He wouldn't survive another day in the desert with just a few days of supplies, and he wasn't near another city to take refuge in. Since he was branded with Merimar's symbol, he'd never be allowed back in alive. Feeling like no matter what he said would be a bad idea, he finally answered.

"I'll stay."

Singer grinned. "Excellent. If you're healed enough to he awake, then you're healed enough for a tour. There's some clothes there at the foot of the bed. Get dressed and meet me in the hall."

Once Mycah was alone, he slowly got out of the bed and got to his bare feet. He was a little shaky and unsteady, but he could get around without a problem. There were clean clothes and shoes in a metal chest at the foot of the bed, and he got dressed. A black club was on the shoulder of a grey t-shirt but otherwise the outfit was plain and unmarked. It was a little difficult to get dressed with his injured hand, but not impossible.

When he got out into the hallway, Singer was waiting. "Before you go anywhere else, you need to get the club tattoo and a tracker. Once you have those, Spider is wanting to talk to you." He started walking, waving for Mycah to follow.

"You said Spider was the King of Clubs. Is he the leader?"

"For the most part. You'll meet him soon enough. But he'll refuse to talk to you unless you're 'officially' a club." Singer rolled his eyes. "So like I said, tattoo and tracker, then we can talk with Spider."

"Why the tattoo? And what kind of tracker?"

"The tattoo is tradition. You won't see a single one of us who doesn't have it." The hall that they walked through started to slope slightly up hill and the plain rock walls were painted a warm orange color instead of just showing the naked rock. "As for the tracker... in case you decide to run or go out and die in the desert, we need to get your body back before anyone else does."

"Why would you need a dead body?" He had a slight look of disgust on his face.

"It's a long story, and I don't want to have to tell you just to see you end up dead. Spider first, and if you live, then I'll explain. I think you'll like it, if you survive. Here we are." Before Mycah could ask any other questions, Singer turned to the side and opened a door in the orange rock.

"Luke?"

"Come on in." They walked in to a comfortable but clean room, where the man who answered to Luke was sitting at a table with a huge pad of paper in front of him, drawing a large and intricate design. Neither the paper or the quality of the artwork was what got Mycah's attention first, though. The light-haired man had full sleeves of tattoos on both of his arms, and all over his hands as well. In the colonies only criminals were tattooed, symbols of crimes not severe enough to get them branded and thrown out, but enough to warn others of what they had done. None of them matched the symbols he knew, though, but he still felt cautious as he stepped inside.

"Are you still working on that?" Singer went right up to the table to peer down at the paper, and seemed to be familiar with it.

"I haven't been paid yet. Seth agreed to get me a vial of FAME for the whole piece, but he hasn't delivered yet. God knows I'll need it to finish this one. As soon as he gets it to me, I'll be able to get it down on paper and bring him in, but for now it'll just look pretty on paper."

The two of them talked about a few others of who Mycah had to assume were other Club gang members as he stood near the door. He was carefully picking at the scabs on his right hand absentmindedly while he looked around when they finally remembered he was there.

"Anyway, I brought in a new one today. I'd appreciate it if you made it quick."

Luke stood up and held out his hand, and Mycah walked forward to awkwardly shake with his injured one. "Name's Luke."

"Mycah. He told me I'd be getting a tattoo from you?"

"Yeah, but there's no need to be so worried. It's just a simple one." He pulled up his left sleeve to show the basic design almost hidden within the others. "There's no way it's going to be as bad as that brand there." Mycah frowned when Luke misread his apprehension, but didn't say anything about it. "Go ahead and have a seat."

The room had a few comfortable looking chairs with small tables next to them. He sat down in the closest one and watched as Singer rifled through cabinets filled with bottles of brightly colored ink and plastic-wrapped packages. "Get him started and I'll set up the tracker." He finally pulled out a white plastic box with a green cross on it, just like a first aid kit. Satisfied with his find, he plopped down on one of the other chairs and propped his feet up on the table as he opened the box. Unfortunately the way he was sitting hid the contents.

"Double diamonds, huh?" Luke had pulled up a smaller desk chair and was putting his supplies out on the table. "We don't get many people from Merimar. They tend to be pretty soft. What got you kicked out?"

Mycah felt his jaw clench as he relived the painful memory and didn't say anything at first.

"Hey that's cool. Seems like it wasn't something you want to brag about." He put on a pair or thin latex gloves unwrapped a set of needles. "It's a nice change. Most people won't shut up about what they did to get branded."

"Ha. Speak for yourself." Singer smirked as he messed with the contents of the white plastic box. "Like you'd stay quiet if you got the chance to tell somebody about your tattoos." He started to laugh but it turned in to a cough.

Luke didn't respond, only turning on the tattoo gun as Singer cleared his throat. "I only tell if they ask," he finally muttered. He motioned for Mycah to pull up the short sleeve of his shirt and without much warning got started. It wasn't painful, compared to the branding. It mostly reminded him of scratching a bad sunburn.

"You didn't have to put down a pattern first?" Mycah looked down at the black outline slowly forming.

"Are you kidding? I've lost count of the times I've had to give this one out. When I was first picking up the trade this was all I was *allowed* to do. If anyone else were around I'd have given you to them."

Mycah was about to make a complaint when he thought Singer laughed again, but it was a loud cough that interrupted them.

"Sin, you doin' okay?" Luke didn't look up from his work, but sounded concerned.

"I'm fine," he answered harshly. His voice was coarse, and when he coughed again it sounded wet and nasty. "Just get him inked up already."

Not for the first time Mycah wondered why he seemed in such a hurry to do all this before he was shown to their leader. The way Singer put it, he seemed like he was trying to do all this so the King would think it was more trouble getting rid of him than letting him stay. At the same time he was mentally kicking himself for agreeing to all this. What in the world was he getting in to? So far the only reason he was staying was a threat to his life by a shapeshifter... Which sounded impossible, but he had seen it with his own eyes. The awkward quiet progressed with just the buzzing of the tattoo gun as he thought, until he decided to speak up.

"How could you do that? When you were there earlier... You turned in to that girl. Was that some sort of hologram or cloaking?" He looked over at the man in question, who had taken his feet off the table and was hunched over the box with a hand to the side of his chest.

"You tell him," Singer said tersely.

"He got the ability from a drug called FAME. The Clubs are the only one to manufacture it, along with most other drugs anyone would care to buy. It can give people different abilities, like Singer. We're also the only Suit to be able to let everyone try it at least once to see if it does anything. Stick around long enough and stay alive long enough and you'll get a dose or two."

"What about you? Did it do anything?"

"Nothing as dramatic as shape shifting. I got my motor skills and reflexes refined, which makes tattooing easier. Oh, and when Spider needs a long-range sniper he usually loads me up and sends me out. Haven't had to do that in a while though."

Just when Mycah was assuming that not everyone was going to be some sort of homicidal maniac, he was proven wrong. "Well... that's... good." He had no other idea on how to respond.

"Yeah, it's alright. It's a pain to take everything I need out, but it is pretty relaxing."

He didn't trust himself to make a reply to that.

"I'm finished loading up the information for the tracker," Singer interrupted. He stood up, but was slightly hunched over with his hand still held to his chest. In his other hand he had what at first looked like a piercing gun.

"I'm all done, too. If you're ready, by all means go ahead." Luke wiped away the last of the ink to reveal the same three-lobed club that was on his own shoulder. It was about two inches wide, with the skin around it slightly red and puffy.

"Perfect." With his free hand, Singer wiped his mouth and left a smear of red across his chin. Before Mycah could react, he grabbed his newly inked arm and plunged the large needle of the gun right in to the center of the tattoo. There was another stab of pain when he pulled the trigger. Only then was Mycah able to get out of the chair and stare at them both warily. Luke was calmly cleaning up his materials. Singer coughed again and while he covered his mouth with his hand, he wiped it on his shirt without thinking and left a smeared hand print of blood.

"Calm down, everybody gets one. If we need to find your body or make sure you're you, count on that to prove it."

"A little warning next time," he spat back. "What the hell's wrong with you anyway!? I don't want to get some weird disease or something!"

"It's not contagious. We've done what we need to here. I'll try and tell Seth to hurry up with that FAME," Singer promised Luke. "Let's go."

Mycah didn't want to go, but with Singer in obvious pain he didn't want to risk making his bad attitude worse. After a few seconds of stubbornly staying where he was, he followed.

As they walked through the hallways, the orange painted rock gradually faded to a soft yellow, and more people were walking around. Most of them looked like they'd fit in just fine in any colony, though they all had the club tattoo that he had. Some would stand out a little more, including people with obvious battle scars from laser burns and one or two with missing or replaced limbs. He tried not to stare.

The floor that they walked on kept sloping upwards, making him wonder just how far underground they were. Abruptly the people talking and going about their day around them were gone. Mycah was getting a bad feeling. His nerves weren't helped by Singers wheezing and coughing, or the red stain around his mouth that probably wouldn't go away until the bleeding- or what was causing it- stopped.

"Here." They stopped in front of a wooden door with the club symbol embossed in to it. He wanted to ask who could afford a door made of wood, one of the most scarce resources on Segunda Terra, but before he could Singer had already knocked and opened the door.

Mycah was led in to a room that felt cooler than the rest of the underground rooms he had been in. In front of him was an expensively large wooden desk with neat stacks of transparent e-papers and files on it, with two people behind it. One was sitting at the desk, eying Singer darkly. He looked almost washed out, with pale hair and skin, and even blue eyes that were so light as to be white. Even without the aura of authority around him, he had the small club tattoo under his eye to show his position. Behind him was standing someone in a hooded sweatshirt. The deep cowl hid their face completely but Mycah could still sense someone staring at him from the darkness.

"I had heard you found another one, Singer. What makes you think you had permission to bring him in after the last absolute failure?" His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to them that obviously was meant for the other leader.

"That wasn't a failure. I kept things contained-!"

"The spy poisoned half the water supplies before Spin took him down."

"It all got filtered out eventually..."

"It never would have happened if it weren't for you bringing him in! Or do I need to mention the one you decided to 'help' who brought down everyone not outside of the base with pentapox?"

"I had everything checked out, Spider. I checked for any sort of outside illness AND bugs of all kinds. I have this under control. Besides. You're forgetting about Spin, and your best friend behind you. I brought them in as well."

Mycah stood still and quiet to the side, not daring to move. Their confrontation was going to decide if he was accepted and stayed, or killed. He didn't take his eyes off the King, either, no matter how intimidating the icy gaze was. Looking in to the hidden face of the man behind him was worse.

"You have me there. But I'm not letting you take a chance with this one. Saber? Go get the patch." The man behind him nodded and without moving was suddenly gone. Mycah flinched but no one seemed to notice. Spider opened a drawer in the desk and took out a pair of think black gloves.

"Spin told me how badly his hand was injured. He can have these until he can have that fixed." He tossed the gloves to Singer who put them in his pants pocket. Once he had put them away, Saber blinked back in to place with a small metal box in his hands. "This is a patch to let me know exactly where he is, with more precision than the tracker he no doubt already has. If something, ANYTHING, happens that leads me to believe he or you is at fault, I'm not letting him get away without a chase. You." He turned to Mycah. "Roll up your sleeve."

He didn't really have a choice, not in a room with three people that could probably kill him as easily as look at him. Spider stood up from the desk after opening the metal box and taking out a thin silvery square. With no ceremony, he placed it on the skin of Mycah's upper arm, above the top lobe of the fresh tattoo. There was a sudden sting before the patch melted in to his skin and left nothing but a slight sheen to that small area.

"That will fade when I decide the decision you made to bring him in was a good one. Until then, you keep an eye on him. Saber will be looking after him too. Now get him to Mesa and get yourself taken care of. You waited too long to get that one removed."

With that dismissal, Singer saluted sarcastically and turned to leave, pushing Mycah in front of him. Once out in the hall Mycah watched as he shut the door and braced himself on the wall, coughing so hard his whole body shook.

"No one else is worried, but if you die, am I going to get blamed for it?"

Singer snorted loudly and spit out a glob of bloody sputum before he answered. "No. It's my own fault. Shapeshifting too often has consequences. It can give me a sort of cancer. I knew it was there but it's such a pain to get rid of." He poked himself in the chest and muttered something under his breath. "Let's get out of here before Saber decides he has to follow us."

Mycah didn't need any other incentive. It should have been obvious to him that there would be factions or disagreements among the leaders of the group.

"Oh. Before I forget." He took the gloves out of his pocket and handed them to Mycah. "These are for you. We got your hand checked out while you were asleep recovering. It doesn't move like it should, right?"

"Yeah. What will these do?"

"The one for your right hand reads nerve signals in your hand of how it should move, and it has nanomotors in there to give the injured tissues support. The other one is just a glove."

"Why did I get two?"

"So you don't like some dumbass who lost a glove." Singer was leading him deeper underground. They went to a wide elevator that zoomed even deeper, only lit momentarily by lights that zoomed by, set in to the rock of the elevator shaft. While they dropped Mycah put on the glove and was happy to find out that it did just what was promised. He noticed almost no difference between his left and right hand, although it felt painfully tight over the burned skin.

Mycah noted a change in the air as they dropped lower. Not only was it a cool air something that felt natural, not processed through an air conditioner, there was something else in the air. It made his skin feel clammy, like there was water in the air. It was something he had never really sense before, since the only humidity he had felt was in the shower and that was dried out almost as soon as it turned in to steam.

"Down here are most of the hydroponic gardens. I'm going to put you with another new recruit." He fought back a cough with a wince. "The work day is almost over. Stick with him until after dinner and by then I should be in good enough shape to show you your room." He made Mycah look up at him as he continued and the elevator slid to a stop. "Don't screw around. It'll be both of our heads if something goes wrong. Got it?" He nodded quickly and followed him out of the elevator when the grate opened up. He almost couldn't continue as he saw where he they had gone.

Inside was an entire cavern filled with the most water Mycah had ever seen in one place in his entire life. There were rows and rows of clear plastic troughs, all of them filled with plants of various sizes and types. Each of them was filled with clear, bubbling water almost to the top. There was a second 'floor' to the cavern as well, with even more plants growing on scaffolding about twenty feet above the floor. The rows and scaffolds themselves were arranged in a radial pattern from a central point. That was where Singer was leading Mycah. A staircase ran around that point in a tight spiral.

Once on that top level he could really see the size of the cave, but he didn't much time to look. He was led to a woman with her hair in a multitude of tiny braids, woven in with beads. Her skin was so dark he almost couldn't see the club tattoo on her arm or a tattoo in deep green of a seven-leafed plant behind it. She looked him up and down quickly, and didn't seem satisfied with what she saw.

"I see you dragged another one out of the desert," she said crisply with an accent he couldn't quite place.

"He was raised in the colonies. If I let him get eaten by the dragons he'd just poison then. And I know how you love all that nature-y crap." Singer held his side and looked irritated, but the insult sounded like it was more a term of endearment than anything else.

"My plants are the only 'nature-y' things I care about and you know that. Now unless you plan on getting some work done, get out."

Singer was quick to leave Mycah there with her and hobble down the steps, no doubt in a hurry to get the cancer in his chest removed.

"So what's your name?"

"Mycah," he answered right away.

"No last name?" He shook his head. He didn't want to have anything to do with that name anymore, especially with anyone else who shared it. "Understandable. I'm Mesa. I head the entire growing operation for inedible greenery and I run it with tight reins. If you can work well with directions and do what you're told, then you'll do just fine down here." She started walking across the narrow scaffolding like it was solid ground, and Mycah hurried to keep up with her as quickly as he dared.

"You'll be working with another new one. He's on Ben's team working on cleaning out the mineral filters. I'm not sure if anyone has told you, but the day for working is almost over. You'll be helping them clean up." She pointed out a group of four people working with metal brushes to clean out a wide mesh filter that barely fit on the scaffolding floor. "There should be an extra set of gear with them. Help them finish up."

"And after?"

Mesa thought for a moment before answering. "Stick with Sandy and Tor. I'm sure that Sin will find you when he's ready. If he gives you any trouble, tell him I sent you with him."

The group paused in their work as the two of them approached. Mycah immediately noticed someone who stood out. A man about his height and age, who looked extremely bored and uninterested in his work, stared at him with flat grey eyes. It wasn't that which stood out- it was his skin. It was almost the same color as his eyes: grey like the color of pencil led on white paper. Someone else stepped forward as the leader; Mycah assumed that was Ben.

"So this is the new kid?" He actually seemed friendly, compared to some of the other people he had already met that day.

"It is. He'll be helping you finish up. I'll let you take over from here." Before anyone could say anything else, Mesa was half hanging off of the scaffolding, yelling loudly at someone pruning a large plant down on the ground level.

"I'm Ben. Over there's Tor," he said as he gestured to the grey-skinned guy, "and that's Sandy. He'll show you where the extra tools are."

Mycah nodded, and finally realized why Ben looked so disconcerting. His pupils were entirely white. He looked like he should have been totally blind. He didn't get the chance to ask about it, or even consider if it would have been rude to ask, before Sandy called him over.

"Hey! I'm Sandy." He shook Mycah's hand enthusiastically, and led him over to a row of buckets a few feet away from where they were working. "We're just scraping out the filter today, and that's almost done. The hard part will be putting that back. It nearly knocked Ben off the platform and that was with Tor holding up most of the weight." He hardly took a breath for Mycah to be able to respond to anything that he said. Sandy looked in to one of the buckets and took out a metal brush to hand to him.

"So what exactly are we doing?" He hefted the metal brush in his injured hand and looked over at the mesh filter. It had traces of chalky material along the edges, and Ben and Tor were still brushing it through the mesh on to a cloth below it.

"Just pushing the filtered minerals through and taking those down to be recycled." Ben moved out of the way as they got to the filter. It was mostly cleaned out and Mycah joined Sandy in scraping the chalky material through the fine grate. "So who are you? How'd you get out here? Was that *Singer* who brought you in?"

"Take a breath before you pass out again." Tor didn't look up as he spoke flatly. At first Mycah thought he was joking, but Sandy looked dissatisfied and irritated, though it didn't last for long. During the short silence he hurried to answer the questions before he was interrupted.

"My name's Mycah, I walked, and yeah it was."

"That's awesome! Have you seen him turn in to someone else? Isn't that freaky?" He worked enthusiastically as he spoke, and Tor seemed to only tolerate him.

"It is pretty weird." Mycah found himself answering the questions simply so Sandy would stop for a few seconds. "How'd you end up here?" He thought he might ask, since the other didn't appear to think it was rude.

"I got recruited." He paused in his work to show the backs of his hands. On each one was the same symbol: a flying dragon with wings outspread, the symbol for the colony of Dorn. "I got kicked out once, but I didn't want to leave. So I snuck back in and kept working. I don't understand how everyone gets all angry when you manufacture and sell your own tech when it's cheaper and better than what the state sells. When they caught me again I was surprised I didn't get hanged. I think they got paid off by Singer, because he brought me here as soon as I was out of the city limits."

"Wow... Why would you go back?"

"I didn't want to leave all my stuff there. They'd burn it or give it to someone who would have no idea how to treat my tools! I went back and started stashing it outside, but then I kept getting distracted and got caught again."

Tor barely rolled his eyes and it was then that Ben stepped over, looking down at the filter. Mycah still didn't understand how he could see, but didn't comment.

"That's good enough, I think. Let's get this back in to the pipe." He pointed to a pipe mounted on the cave wall a few feet away, where the scaffolding was also attached. "I'll bolt it in if you three can hold it in place."

Sandy took the lead in tilting the round heavy filter on it's side and rolling it to just under where it needed to be lifted. Mycah and Tor helped lift it while he made sure it went to the right place. It took a good ten minutes before they could put down the heavy filter and let it support itself and by that time Mycah felt his burned hand aching under the glove.

"You guys are good to go," Ben said from sitting on top of the large water pipe. "Nice work." He nodded appreciatively to Mycah.

"See you tomorrow!" Sandy looked like he was ready to run out along with most of the other people filtering towards the large elevator. "You guys ready to go eat or what? I don't know about you but I'm starving."

"I'll meet you in the dining room. I have to speak with Mesa." Tor spoke up from behind them.

"Oh... yeah that's fine. I'll save you a seat." Mycah noticed that Sandy suddenly looked troubled, though he tried to shake it off. "Let's get out of here before we have to take the second elevator. Something musta died in there 'cause it smells funky." He hurried away from Tor still grumbling, but glanced back to take a look at his odd friend and the leader of the garden cave talking quietly. Only then did he realize that Sandy was jealous. Obviously he had a thing for Mesa, though most likely it was unrequited or just plain unknown.

By the time they got to the lift, Sandy was back to what Mycah suspected was his usual upbeat self. "So which colony did you come from? I've seen those gloves before; they read neural impulses to enhance movement. You'd only have that because you got it here, since it's not a government issued pair, and you'd only get it here because you got branded badly enough to damage the muscles and tendons in your hand."

Mycah blinked a few times. "How did you know that?"

"Duh. Anyone could have figured it out. So where you from?"

"Merimar. I got caught with second hand counterfeit goods... it actually had a red diamond mark on it and that probably made it worse. Didn't help that the inquisitor had a personal grudge."

Sandy winced. "Oh yikes. That sucks... Well at least you didn't get found by one of the other Suits when you walked out here. We may be the smallest group, but we take care of our own. Those other groups are bigger and they don't care about the new guys."

"I guess that's... good... How long have you been here?"

"About six months? And Tor got here a little bit before I did."

Mycah paused as they stepped out of the elevator and in to the hall. Everyone was going in the same general direction, to a dining hall or cafeteria, he guessed. "What- What is he? I mean..." He shook his head, there wasn't really any way to ask that any more tactfully.

"Do you remember the big deal everyone made about something proposed a few years ago? With the bigwigs at the poles wanting to raise funding for research on engineering humans to be able to live in the desert easier?"

"Yeah. If I remember it right, they never made it past the planning stage. What does that have to do with-"

"They had already done it," Sandy interrupted. "Created humans who could survive in the desert almost as well as the native species. Tor's mom was one of them, and his dad was just some guy I guess. He's told me his mom looked normal, but somehow he turned out, you know, the way he is now." He suddenly laughed. "Oh man, you should ask about how he escaped from the south pole. I'd tell you but I'd just ruin the story; you have to ask him."

He shrugged, not giving a concrete answer. In the short hour he'd worked with Tor, the guy had given him the major creeps. But Sandy so far was nice enough and more outgoing than Singer- and he felt more trustworthy too. If Sandy was friends with him, and no one else was bothered by him, he figured Tor couldn't be /that/ bad.

"Don't forget to save a seat for him," Sandy reminded him.

"Hey, Sandy! New kid!" From behind them a familiar voice made them stop. They turned around to see Ben hurrying through the loose crowd to meet up with them. For a split second Mycah was sure he saw someone in a hooded shirt a few yards behind Ben, but as soon as he noticed it the person, real or just a worried trick of his mind, was gone.

"Did we forget something in the garden?" Sandy asked when he caught up to them.

"No, but I'm about to get some people together to go investigate an old mine shaft. You remember how we found that stash of old school tech last year? The one that Mesa said was from some broken down interstellar that got stolen? I think I found another one, or something close to it. I'm not sure when everyone will be free, but are you guys up to it? Tor's included too."

"Oh! I remember hearing about that. There was some really cool stuff in that cache. Yeah I'm in. Tor won't complain if I drag him around. Mycah, you wanna come?"

He hesitated at first. But, if he didn't make friends, he wouldn't get used to this new home. Even if he had no choice to be there he could still do that, right?

"Yeah. Sure."

"Awesome. I don't have enough people ready though, so I'll get back to you when we're all ready to go." With that he was out of there, joining another group of his friends.

"Come on. We're almost there." Sandy's stomach growled loudly.

Mycah followed him as he picked up his pace. When they walked through a set of swinging double doors he was greeted by the sight of another massive cavern. It wasn't as tall as the cave with all the 'inedibles' as Mesa put it, but it was still huge, full of tables and chairs, and people in some sort of grey shirt with a club mark somewhere on it. Sandy showed him to a long window set in to the wall where others were serving something that smelled delicious. He didn't get to choose himself, though, since Sandy decided that it was his job to rattle off what was the best and the worst of the food. Only when they both had plates full of what he claimed was roasted herbivorous dinosaur that they raised in the lower levels and fresh greens did they find a table with three free seats and sit down.

"Do you have a room assignment yet?" Sandy only spoke between mouthfuls of his inhaled food.

"No. I don't think so anyway. I was just in the medical wing, I think."

"Well if nobody gives you a place to crash, I think Tor and I can find a place for you in our room. Honestly, sometimes, I'm not even sure he actually sleeps..." He looked at his food suspiciously for a few seconds. "Speak of the devil..."

"And he shall appear," finished Tor. He sat down in the spare seat with his own food. "Mesa needed me to check the quality of the water leaving the hydroponic systems and entering the drinking water filtration."

"Yeah. Whatever. Be glad we saved you a seat." Tor didn't notice the irritation in Sandy's voice and just nodded solemnly.

Mycah's companions didn't seem to mind eating in silence for a few minutes as the cafeteria buzzed around them with talk. He followed Sandy to a series of trays to drop off their empty plates, and when he got back Singer was waiting at the table.

"I see you're already making friends. I came up here to make sure you could find your new room." The sight of the Queen of Clubs put him on edge, but he tried to hide it. He also noticed that Singer's cough and pained look was gone. The removal of the shapeshifting-caused tumor must have been such a routine that he was in and out of the medical wing without much issue.

"Is he gonna be in the art museum with us?" Sandy asked, looking slightly awestruck at Singer.

"Art museum?" Mycah looked befuddled; why would a drug dealing gang have an art museum?

"You'll see," Sin said with a chuckle. "You two, let's go. I want Mycah to stick with you two and work with you for the next few days. That includes getting used to the schedule here. It can take some people a while to get used to a routine without natural daylight." He said it like he was just stating fact, but Mycah had a feeling it was a subtle clue to him.

With that the four of them left the dining room out of one of the many entrances. It was quietly busy in the halls. Everyone looked like they knew where they were going in the complex underground maze and Mycah was still amazed at how many people he saw there. Even if there were more than this in the other groups like Sandy said, there was still a huge amount of people in this Suit.

Eventually they got to an area that was no longer painted in shades of orange, yellow and red. There were areas painted in skillful murals, others with scribbled drawings and stick figures, and others were it looked like someone had just thrown buckets of paint on the walls. Only one thing looked consistent, and that was a single word painted and drawn, covered up with various paintings and covering over other paintings itself.

"Destroya? What's that mean?"

Singer rolled his eyes. "Some stupid legend that somehow stuck around from when the Clubs were first founded. I'm sure someone else will tell you about it." They passed someone with a bucket of bright neon green paint splashing that word over and over again on the wall with shaky motions, covering up some sort of drawing of two fighting wolf dragons. When he looked over at the four of them approaching, the painter's bloodshot eyes widened and he pointed at Mycah with the brush, splashing him with a few drops of green paint.

"You! It's you!! Destroya! The crow-black king!"

"Back off!" Singer took a sharp step forward, and suddenly looked like he was taller than before. "No one is Destroya!"

The shaking painter flinched and scrambled back, but never let his eyes leave Mycah. A little farther down the hall Singer was back to his normal size and in a sour mood. They got to a dead in in the rock where he showed them two doors.

"The last one is yours, Mycah. The next door is theirs." He pointed to Sandy and Tor, the latter who was already walking in to his room. "Like I said, stick with them for a few days. Once you're settled in, I'll be back to talk with you more." With that he was gone, giving a sneering look to the one they passed in the hall.

"Come on. I can tell you what's up with that guy, but... we shouldn't talk out here." Sandy spoke in hushed tones as he hurried Mycah in to the room he shared with Tor.

Once they were in the room, Mycah discreetly looked around. It was small, carved in to the rock like every other room in the underground complex. The main area had a couple of tables with tangles of wires, metal and tools that he had a good feeling were Sandy's. On the other side of the room was a simple but comfortable chair and set of books that Tor was near, looking through the titles for one to read. In a back area he could see two other rooms separated by a low wall with a bed on each side.

Sandy shut the door behind them and pulled out a plastic folding chair for himself and Mycah. "So what exactly has Mycah told you about FAME?"

Mycah shrugged. "Not much. That it's what made him able to shape shift, and it can do freaky stuff like that to anyone, I guess."

"That's sort of it... Tor, stop me if I forget something."

"Sure thing." He was reading a scraggly paperback book and taking notes on a pad of paper sitting on the arm of the chair, not looking very interested at all. Mycah doubted he was ever really interested in anything.

"So Destroya and FAME go together in a really weird way. Destroya has been around since the founding of the Clubs, when FAME was created and perfected. You saw what Singer could do, right? It can do stuff like that to other people too. Ben got something pretty cool but a little less flashy. His eyes are blind. He can't see like you or I can, but he can see in other ways, with wavelengths that are usually invisible to humans."

"And it's because of a drug?"

"FAME is no ordinary drug. The other Suits pay out the nose to get their hands on it. Now what happened to Ben and Singer, those are two totally different things, right? Almost nothing that happens to people ever happens to others. But there is one thing that's been consistent for the past... what, fifty years?"

"Sixty-two," Tor amended from his chair.

"Right. The only thing that's been the same is that some people claim to have visions when they're high on FAME. Like that guy out in the hall, right? Almost all of them see someone called Destroya. I get some free time every once in a while, and I did a little research, just sort of by word of mouth and in the public files. The words most associated with it are 'king,' 'crow,' black,' and various tenses of the word 'destruction.'"

"Three of those four things that guy said to me."

"I noticed. So did Singer. He's the only reason I didn't find out more. He stopped me in my tracks. Something about Destroya he doesn't like. I think he believes that Destroya is coming... a lot of us do." Sandy eyed Mycah thoughtfully for just a moment. "In all my research lots of people have claimed to be Destroya, but no one in the thralls of a vision has ever said someone ELSE was."

Mycah was a little unsettled by what Sandy what suggesting and he shook his head. "What is Destroya supposed to be anyway?"

"No one really knows. Everyone who has had the visions claims it's a person who will bring upset to the world." Sandy's ditzy personality was a cover, intentional or not, over sharp intelligence. He still looked at Mycah oddly, like he was weighing everything he'd heard against him.

"The guy was high on some super drug," Mycah hurried to say. "Do you really think he knew what he was talking about?"

"I do. And if anyone else but us saw, it would be big news, you know?. Singer'll do all he can to keep it a secret, and if you're lucky, he'll forget all about it by the time he sobers up." By that point, Sandy noticed Mycah's skepticism and finally rolled to a stop in his rant.

"So what about you two? Have you tried that stuff yet?"

Tor shook his head silently while Sandy shrugged ruefully. "They save that for when they think you're ready. Basically by the time you've proven you aren't expendable any more. It's expensive stuff, yeah?"

"Sure... So is that all this place does? Make drugs?"

"Just about. The split between the Suits is what caused it. Too many people were killed in fights over stuff like who got money for growing what, for making what, for selling something stolen. So Clubs are in the drug trade, Diamonds deal with weapons, Spades manufacture goods, and Hearts are in spying. I don't know much more about the other Suits but what's common knowledge, though. If you wanted more info you'd have to ask someone like Singer."

"No thanks. I think I'm okay." He put up his hands defensively before he realized what he was doing. He noticed that he still had on the gloves that helped his hand and tugged them off, wincing when the scabs on the back of his right hand caught on the inside fabric. "Actually, I think I'm going to go to my room and get some sleep."

"Sure thing. We'll wake you up when it's time for breakfast." Sandy was turned to his tables of metal, tinkering with some pieces before Mycah was even out of the door. Tor was silent, but nodded towards him as he left.

In the short time that Mycah had spoken with Sandy, the painter outside had run out of paint and started to scratch the word Destroya in to the many layers of paint with his brush, after ripping all the bristles out. He was still working feverishly. Mycah edged around him to get by without catching his notice and snuck inside his own room.

It wasn't much different than the other room. There was a couch and small desk in the front portion of the room, and in the back was a bed and a door to a small bathroom. He quickly cleaned up and got in bed, exhausted even though he had only been up a few hours. He fell asleep quickly even in the new environment and slept hard, with no dreams or waking up in the middle of what he assumed to be night.

"You know if you sleep this deeply all the time you'll be dead in a week."

Mycah opened up his eyes squinted to see someone leaned over him and poking his cheek. After a few seconds he recognized the face and sat upright, trying to wake up all the way. For the first time in his life he felt self-conscious without a shirt in front of the Jack of Clubs. He grabbed his shirt from the foot of the bed where he had tossed it carelessly the day before and put it on, fumbling a little when he forgot that his right hand didn't work the way it should have.

"What are you doing here?"

"Giving you some advise. Why else do you think I would be in your room?" She gave him an innocent look that didn't have very innocent implications behind it. "Singer and Spider are giving you some attention and I decided to see what the big deal was. They think you're pretty hot stuff."

"Don't ask me why. They haven't bothered to tell me."

Spin chuckled and crossed her arms, her short stature almost not allowing her to look down on him as she stood and he sat on the bed. "Just remember to keep your place when you need to. Saber wouldn't hesitate to kill you if he thought you were mouthing off, unless he thought there'd be a fair fight. He never likes to take chances."

"Why are you telling me this?" He wasn't sure what she could do... he didn't want to risk finding out what power had gotten her one of the four positions of leadership in the bloodthirsty gang, so he had to listen to her 'advice.'

"Because I don't like any of them. Singer's okay, I guess, but Saber's too big for his boots and Spider..." She shook hear head, apparently there were other issues among the four that he couldn't guess at. "I just want to make sure you stay alive long enough to screw with them. Is that so bad?"

"No. Not if it keeps me alive."

She laughed and for a few seconds looked like nothing more than a cute girl laughing at a good joke. "Singer was right, you are going to be fun. I'm sure I'll be seeing you again, Mycah." She blew him a kiss and left with a self-satisfied smile on her face.

When his door shut he flopped back and glared at the ceiling. Maybe it would have been a better idea to risk walking back out in to the desert... The light in his room was dim, only coming from the bathroom with the door cracked. He closed his eyes to try and get a few more minutes of sleep, unsure of what time it was, when there was a loud banging on the door.

"Rise and shine!!" Sandy opened the door as Mycah covered his face from the light he turned on. "You ready to work?" He was grinning and cheerful for having gotten out of bed too recently and that made Mycah even more irritated.

"No."

"Too bad! When Mesa expects you to show, you better damn well show up. I can speak to that experience. I *still* get flashbacks to what she dosed me with. Come on, get up! We'll be late for breakfast, and you don't want to miss that, yeah?"

Mycah groaned and finally sat up. There was a metal chest at the foot of his bed filled with clothes and laundry bags, along with directions on how to turn it in. He pushed that to the side and got dressed, almost forgetting to grab his gloves before following Sandy out. Tor was waiting for them in the hall, his so far ever-present look of apathy still in place.

The morning turned out to be the usual routine for Sandy and Tor, and Mycah too. Breakfast was followed by work in the edible gardens, a separate cavern away from the inedible gardens. From what he saw growing in each, he had to guess that inedible meant what they used for growing the ingredients for drugs, and edible for their food supply. He was surprised to see that there wasn't much overlap between the two. After a rest break during the middle of the day where a few Clubs had homemade hammocks strung between the pipes and supports in the twenty to thirty foot high ceiling, they moved to the other garden.

After the work day was over, most people were left to their own devices. Mycah found that Tor was working on piecing together a few ancient manuscripts from Earth, and Sandy worked with his seemingly disorganized and tangled parts to assemble tiny removable implants that he sold and traded with. The doors to the other rooms in the Art Museum stayed open until late at night, with people going in and out of rooms to chat and hang out until late in the night. Mycah spent most of his time helping Sandy get the pieces in order for the implants until he got curious enough to ask what they were three or four days later.

"Oh these?" Sandy held up a finished piece that he just soldered together. It resembled a small coin; one side smooth and matte, and the other with tiny barbs and a dab of medical adhesive. "It's a monitoring device, yeah? You tripped the sensors on the entrance the same way these do. They sense large living organisms and warn you with a small tactical sensation." When he saw Mycah's blank look he rolled his eyes. "You stick it to the back of your neck and you get a little shock when someone is within a few feet of you. Try it on." He tossed it over to him, and Mycah placed it on the nape of his neck.

Almost instantly he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he felt an intense rush of paranoia for a few seconds. When that passed, he felt the little sensor tingling a little. Sandy stood up and walked closer, and the feeling became more sharp and insistent. When he sat down, it went back to the electric tingle. Once the demonstration was over, he quickly plucked it away and put it back on the table.

"Those sold pretty big back home. I actually have a permanent one, a little more sensitive, that I based these off of." He tapped the back of his neck. "There's a huge market that's going to be set up soon. Singer told Tor and I we'd get to go to this one, and since I don't have any money I figured I'd make a few of these." He continued to babble on about the market over the next day, and how it was a huge mishmash of Suits members, plain old outlaws, desperate colonial citizens, and even some Crows.

"Wait, Crows? Have you ever met any?" Mycah punched out another set of metal pieces and set them in a row for Sandy to fill with tiny chips and solder together.

"Only once. When I was being escorted out here, we crossed paths with a small group of them. They can be downright invisible when they want to be! And they don't talk either. Kinda freaky, yeah?" He stuck out his tongue as he concentrated for a few seconds. "Singer was able to talk to one with hand signals and sign language. I don't know what they said, but one of the other Clubs with us told me that Singer got his name because of some weird story... Did you ever hear it, Tor?"

Tor paused in his writing and shook his head. "Enlighten us."

"Well the story goes that Singer is called that because at first he could only imitate voices, not shapes. When he got a new voice to use, they said that he stole someone's tongue and gave them to the Crows."

"Somehow... that almost sounds legit." Mycah shook his head. "Do they really help people they find out in the desert?"

"That's what I heard. Though it depends on why you need help. You would have gotten it just fine I think, but they won't go back to help any of their own that broke their creed, or people that have betrayed them at some point. It's hard to say, sometimes they help people you or I would kill outright but then deny someone else who would die otherwise." He shook his head. "I can't really say. I did hear that the Clubs are the only Suit that they take members from, others they'll help out and send on their way. Maybe that's how Singer knew how to talk to them, yeah?" Sandy sounded like he was more talking to himself at that point.

"We'll probably never find out," Mycah added on. Standing up to stretch, he nearly lost his balance and fell when a hooded figure appeared right outside the doorway, absolutely silently. It could be no one else but Saber. His face was invisible in the deep hood, but he still raised a finger up to his mouth in silence. When Mycah finally found his voice and tried to get Sandy or Tor's attention, he was gone.

"Did you see that?!" He cursed and ran out in to the riotously painted hall, but Saber was gone

"Hey, see what? Where you going?" Sandy poked his head out the door way as Mycah ran as far as the paint did, shoving a few people out of the way.

"Damn it!" He had lost him, if there was even a chase to begin with. The normally talkative hallway was quiet as everyone stared at Mycah for a few seconds. He let out another cuss before walking back to Sandy's room. "I know it sounds stupid," he mumbled, "but I KNOW that Saber has been following me." He had kept his surprise meeting with Spin a secret until then, but after closing the door, he quietly told them what had happened.

"Wonder why they think you're so important." Sandy listened and ate the story up, though Tor looked a little more skeptical. Although he wasn't sure if it was just how he looked all the time and his mind was putting more emotion on to the face than there actually was.

"I don't know. If I did I probably wouldn't be so freaked out by a teleporting freak." His agitation was affecting the glove he wore over his injured hand, which while the skin was nearly healed, was still lame. Even after stripping it off in frustration he couldn't concentrate enough with the limited mobility he had. "I have to get outta here." He dropped the small instruments he was working on and left before he got too frustrated to stay there peacefully.

Without waiting for any sort of answer, Mycah was gone, leaving the Art Museum at a brisk walk. He had gotten enough of a feel of the place to be able to get back there, or at least trace his steps if he found himself in an unfamiliar place. He followed the paint on the walls, which got darker as it dropped lower and lower beneath the surface. By the time the walls were a dark green and he was shivering in the damp air did he finally stop.

His breath fumed in front of him as he tried to cool down, physically and mentally. It was bad enough that he was forced to join this gang, even if so far it was way better than living in the city. But why were the super-powered leaders after him so badly? He had a feeling it all went back to Singer, but he had disappeared after sending him off with Sandy and Tor. There wasn't a way for him to question someone who wasn't there.

Mycah spent a good hour pacing and muttering dark words about what he would do if he could get his hands on the shapeshifter or the teleporter before he finally was too cold to stay down there any longer. As he was starting to head up the gentle slope to warmer halls, he felt a sudden sensation that he was being watched.

"Good luck catching him first." Spin walked around a corner to stand in front of him. "We'll have to get you a trophy if you do catch him; not even Saber can seem to keep track of him."

The sight of the face card had him in a rage again almost right away. "What the hell do you fucking want?! I didn't want to be here! I never asked for this!" He marched up to her, looming over her short frame and shouting so that his echoes could be heard quite a few hallways away. Almost every word was punctuated with a finger stabbed towards her.

Her easy going expression disappeared and when she opened her mouth, Mycah was frozen for a few seconds. "**If you touch me, you will die.**"

After a moments he shook himself out of his stupor and his glare intensified. "What, am I supposed to believe that?" He reached out to push her back, but a sudden fear gripped him and stopped his hand from a few inches away. Something deep in his instincts told him that touching her would mean death as surely as a pack of hungry wolf dragons. Shaken from the sudden feeling, he took a step back.

"Now shut up and listen. I came to try to help you." Her voice was back to normal. "Sin's gone. He's off on some bullshit mission that he made up a few days ago. I think he planned on leaving you hanging to see how you could handle the stress. As for Saber... he's as readable as your friend with the grey skin." She roughly pulled her hair out of it's loose ponytail and tied it back again. "I didn't know he'd be messing with you, but he is supposed to keep an eye on you."

"Are you still doing this so I can screw up your bosses plans?" he shot back.

"Yes and no. Singer forgot to change his passwords and I broke into his stuff. He has something on you that's important, but I have to make sure first. I think the others found out about it. If Sin's notes are right, then you'll be in a lot of danger. Honestly, after hearing what happened to you in Merimar, I don't think that's fair to take you from one place like that to another. Also, if he is right, you'll be in plenty of danger later on anyway. If you and I can keep Sin on his toes, that should be good enough for now."

"Is anyone ever going to talk to me like I actually know what's going on?" Mycah rolled his eyes and turned his back to take a few steps away.

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." There was another change in her voice. "**You won't die. Dumbass.** I'm not as useless as you think I am." There was a little bit of sting to those words... was she actually hurt that he had implied that she had no influence compared to the other three leaders? Feeling confused and dizzy over the powerful girl and the way she had used her words against him, Mycah headed back up to his room. By the time he got there most people had their doors shut for the night. There was another painter in the hallway, someone he didn't recognize. They were struggling to open a can of paint with shaking fingers.

"Having some trouble?"

It was clear that the guy trying to paint was high on something, though whether or not it was FAME, he wasn't sure. He nodded mutely at Mycah, who knelt down and opened the new paint. "Try not to make too much of a mess," he advised futilely.

"Destroya will save us and destroy us at the same time," he whispered, eyes not leaving Mycah's as he dipped his hands right in to the black paint. "Can you hold the world up on your wings?"

"Keep that paint away from my door," he warned wearily. By the time he finished speaking the painter was already smearing the black ink all over the wall in no discernible pattern.

Mycah wasn't able to get much sleep that night. Even when he was lying in bed there were too many conflicting thoughts running through his head. Why were the leaders of the Clubs so focused on him? And why did Spin seem so worried about him? And even with her power to make him, and presumable anyone, believe anything she said, there was still something about her... Something dangerous and alluring that none of the few girls he had been with in the colony ever had.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid..." He smushed his pillow over his face and growled in to it. Being attracted to her was like trying to kiss a wolf dragon... he'd end up hurt, at best, and dead if anything went wrong in the slightest. He forced himself to stop thinking about it and try to rest, though that didn't feel very successful. He felt like he was only asleep a few seconds before being woken up by Sandy's early morning enthusiasm.

"Hey! Guess what? Ben was here this morning and he told us about that hidden cache he said he found!"

"Do you really want me to kill you?" Mycah pressed the pillow to his face again, not wanting to get up.

"Aw you wouldn't do that. Not until after we go look for that cache. He said that no one else was able to go with him, so it'll just be us four. It'll be fun, yeah?"

Mycah wasn't sure how much he appreciated being included in this without being asked, but decided just to go with it. It's not like he had anything better to do. Eventually he got up and dressed, ready to go. Something soured his mood for the worst as he was leaving to head towards the gardening caverns... On the other side of the hallway, right across from his door, was the result of the painting he had inadvertently helped with the night before. The painter was passed out asleep on the floor, his arms stained black to the elbows, and above him was a silhouette of a man with large black wings outspread, and halo that seemed to be casting shadow over the entire thing. Sandy took a picture of it with a tiny camera he tossed back in his room.

"What? I like to keep track of these things. Besides, it's just going to be painted over, yeah?"

Mycah rolled his eyes, and the day went like normal, if a little more talkative than usual with Sandy talking so much about what they'd be doing later that night.

By the time the lunch break rolled around Mycah thought he was ready to knock Sandy out just to get him to shut up about it, and even though he didn't really show it, apparently Tor agreed. He interrupted Sandy, asking him something to distract him.

"Why don't you go by your real name?"

"Oh! Mycah doesn't know, does he?" He looked excited to brag about his name, real or otherwise. "One time I got lost outside the city when I was younger... no one stopped me from walking out and my mom was pissed, yeah?" He stopped to laugh for a second. "When I was gone, a huge sandstorm rolled through, and when I finally made it back I was covered by that dirt and dust." He tugged at a lock of his hair. "My hair used to be blonde before and now it's the color of the desert sand. My name used to be Tanner, and since then everyone called me Sandy."

Mycah blinked a few times, having to go back to think over what Sandy said to catch it all. "So has he actually passed out while talking?" he asked Tor.

Tor nodded with a knowing look on his face.

"H-hey! That only happened once!" Sandy's cheeks were red for a few seconds. "I woke up right away..."

The two of them continued to make fun of Sandy, who had fun bantering back. By the time they were done with the day's work, Mycah had to admit that he was kind of looking forward to going with the others to look for this supposed hidden treasure of sorts. It also kept his mind off of the dilemma he'd been exposed to the night before concerning Spin. Ben caught them as they were heading towards the large elevators out.

"Hey, go ahead and go up like normal, but don't go far. I'll meet you up there and show you where we're going next." The trio obeyed the instructions, and loitered around the entrance to the lifts while waiting for Ben. It didn't take long for him to show up, beckoning them down the passage.

"Come on, it's down this way. I have to say I'm going to owe you guys one. I didn't want to go down this way by myself, Some of the old tunnels are unstable, and if this is another interstellar, there might be booby traps that were set by the crew or automatically by the ship."

Sandy snickered and Mycah rolled his eyes. "He just said-"

"I know what he said."

A few confusing twists and turns later, Ben led them to a derelict elevator that was much smaller than the one that they used to get to the gardens. "This is it. I had to mess around with the wires a little, but it gets to the right floor." He forced the doors open with a rusty squeak and banged on a panel inside to make the lights flicker on. "I don't need the lights, but you probably do."

"So how far down is this abandoned tunnel?" Mycah asked.

Ben took out a switchblade from his pocket and used the blade to pop out the same panel he used to force on the lights. "A few dozen feet down. Not that far compared to how far down the gardens and stables are."

There was a sudden lurch as he started to power up the elevator and it dropped a few feet before stopping. After that the descent started to move in a slightly more stable rate, though all of them were supporting themselves on the walls. The bumpy ride lasted a few minutes before stopping with an ear-piercing squeal that had them all wincing. Ben pushed the doors open again to show a dark yawning tunnel. Neither Mycah, Sandy or Tor looked eager to go out, but Ben walked right out and disappeared, the lack of light not a hindrance with his FAME-altered eyes.

Suddenly a few rows of lights turned on and revealed him at a large switch a few yards in to the tunnel. The only things in the roughly carved tunnel were a few crates and discarded tools. "There should be a few flashlights in one of these crates, I think. I didn't get the chance to go through all of them."

The trio stepped out in to the tunnel, and Sandy immediately started to rummage through the boxes, tossing aside handfuls of packing material. "Found some! No batteries though..." Mycah and Tor started looking through the other boxes. No one noticed that Ben had walked towards the elevator and was now standing inside.

"Better look quick. The lights are on an automated switch."

"What? What are you talking about?" Sandy stood up and frowned, torches in his hands.

"They'll turn off in a few minutes. Ten? Fifteen? Five? I'm not really sure." He had a smirking grin on his face as he shut the elevator doors. "You better find those batteries." The elevator whirred to life and suddenly it was gone, leaving only an empty shaft.

"We should hurry." For once it was Tor who spoke up. "If those lights go out before we have our own source, we're fucked."

In any other circumstance Mycah probably would have laughed at the way his warning was so different from his apathetic tone. He knew he was right though, and he started looking a little faster. It was Mycah who found the batteries, and they hurried to put the cells in the heavy flashlights. The lights were still on, but at this point no one had any idea if they would be actually turning off, or when.

"There's no way back this way," Mycah said, looking at the dark elevator shaft. "We should keep going. There might be a way out."

"How do you know?" Sandy's eyes were wide, and he kept looking around like he wished he could see everything at once. Mycah remembered how he said he had a paranoia-inducing implant that searched for other signs of life, and suspected that he had switched it on.

"I don't. But do you really want to wait to see how long it'll take for Ben to come back?"

"Mycah's right. We should start walking."

The input of his friend seemed to calm Sandy down just a little bit. When no one else moved, Mycah decided he should take the lead. He turned on his flashlight and turned towards the dark cave. He heard the others follow him. They had walked only a few yards when there was a loud snap, and the lights turned off, leaving their flashlights as the only means of lighting their way.

While walking down the tunnel the only sounds were their footsteps and Sandy's shaky breath. No one spoke as they explored forward with no idea what to expect as they continued on. After walking for a good five minutes, the walls of the cave started to look filmy and shiny, and they paused to see what it was.

"Is it some kind of crystal?" Mycah frowned as he shone his flashlight on it. Tor was the only one to go to the wall and touch it, rubbing the substance between his fingers.

"It's water."

"What? Water?" Sandy started looking around with more purpose, eventually wandering off down the passage until they could only see the beam of his light. "Hey!" His voice echoed and made Mycah flinch involuntarily. "I think I found something!" As they hurried to meet him, the floor of the cave started to turn muddy, with puddles forming near the walls, and instead of being level it started to slope slightly downwards.

"There's a split in the tunnel." Sandy stood in front of a fork, with the left side sloping down at a more extreme angle. It looked dangerously slippery as well, with a damp musty feel to the air closer to it. On the right side the tunnel sloped upwards, and became sandy and dry again.

"Which way should we go?" Mycah stepped forward and shone his light down either tunnel.

"The one on the left," Sandy said instantly. "There's water down that way. If we get trapped with no supplies-"

"We'll never be able to get back out that way." Tor interrupted with a frown. "Look at the slope. If one of us slips there's no way to climb back up and no way to tell what's down there. Besides, the other route might lead to the surface, and we could find one of the entrances back in to the main complex."

Sandy looked at Tor with a panicked expression. "No way! We go that way and-"

"Stop it!" Mycah turned to glare at both of them, putting his back to the tunnels. "If you fight now and we get separated, there's more of a chance we really could die or get trapped. Right now, Tor's right. The tunnel on the left is the safer option for now."

He expected Sandy to object, but there was a sudden skittering of gravel and instead of protesting, he yelped and swing his flashlight around violently.

"Did you see that!? Look!" Mycah spun around, and saw what looked like a jumble of sharply jointed legs as their flashlights swept across the tunnel, but he didn't get a good look at anything. "There's no way I'm going that way!"

"Get it together! It's two against one right now. If it's not a good way to go, we'll turn around and go the other way, but this is the best option."

Sandy grumbled but said nothing after that. Mycah led the way, and he tried not to say anything about Sandy's shaky beam of light flickering around the tunnel. It was narrower and shorter than where they had started, and gave him a claustrophobic feeling that reminded him of the room he was branded in. His hand twinged in pain as they walked upwards. As they kept going, the air started to get hot and humid.

"There might be a hot spring up here," Sandy admitted grudgingly. "Even if it's not being used right now there should be outside access closer to the water source."

Mycah nodded and they kept going. Something was getting to him though... he had a tingling feeling in the back of his neck as his hair started to stand on end. There was more quiet skittering noises the air finally got uncomfortably hot and they all started to sweat. When a piece of rock tumbled from the ceiling of the cave, Sandy didn't hesitate to swing the beam of his flashlight up to see where it had come from.

The three of them froze as they saw a mass of long jointed legs and bodies writhing on the ceiling. When the beam of light slid over them, the gigantic spiders stilled and turned their many eyes on the trio. A quiet hiss started from a few spiders and slowly built until the first spider dropped from the ceiling to scramble to it's feet and rush at them. Soon the spiders started to rain down from above them and they started running.

"I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO!! DIDN'T I FUCKING TELL YOU?!" Sandy didn't lose his talkativeness as they all ran back towards the elevator shaft, stumbling down the steep downward slope back towards the main tunnel.

"I don't care! Run!!" A spider leapt and landed on Mycah's back, sinking it's fangs in to his shoulder. He shouted wordlessly in pain and swung his flashlight back to hit it with an ugly soft thud and it fell, but more were on their way. Sandy was bitten on the leg and went down, his flashlight rolling away out of his reach. Tor stopped to help him, swinging at the spider but Mycah urged him on.

"Mycah, go! I'll help him!" Tor had the most expression on his face that Mycah had ever seen, fear and worry clear.

"No!" Mycah swung his flashlight like a baton at the spiders attacking them, getting more bites as he protected Sandy and Tor. Back near the entrance there was suddenly an shout.

"Mycah! Sandy?!"

"Ben you motherfucker I'm gonna kill you!" Sandy was finally on his feet. Tor was dragging him along, and Mycah was running backwards behind them, keeping the spiders at bay the best that he could. Once they were closer to the glowing entrance to the elevator, they saw that Ben and someone else were standing there waiting, ready to send them all to safety once they got in. Mycah recognized Spin's silhouette as she stood in the middle of the doors, shooting a laser gun at the spiders closest to them. There was a sickening smell of burning bug as the three of them finally got in to the elevator and collapsed, in too much pain to move as they gasped on the metal floor.

Once the elevator was moving, Ben got out a small black bag with medical supplies in it. Moving to each one, he silently gave them an injection of clear fluid. "It's antivenom," he explained to Sandy when he flinched away from the needle. "Unless you want those to hurt even worse later, you'll hold still."

"What the hell were you thinking." Spin was fuming, the gun still in her hand. "Why did you send them in to a spider den, Ben. I need your answer NOW." She backed him against the wall, holding the gun against his chin.

"L-last time I checked there were just a few dozen! I had no idea it was an entire nest of them!"

Spin narrowed her eyes, and Ben tensed up before she finally backed away, putting the gun back in a holster on her hip. "Idiot. You'll be answering to Singer when he gets back. Let's see if he goes as easy on you as I did." Once she was sure that Ben had been put in her place, she turned her attention to the three friends nearly passed out on the floor. Tor was still clutching the flashlight like he might still swing it at something if he was startled enough.

"We'll get you three up to your rooms so you can rest. Spider bites can hurt pretty bad, but that's usually all they do. I'm pretty sure you'll all be fine."

"Pretty sure...?" Mycah echoed her, sitting up with a grimace. He had bites on his arms, legs, and back, and a nasty one on the side of his chest that made it painful to breathe.

"Very sure. Just relax and get some rest. I'll make sure no one expects you anywhere for the next couple of days."

He nodded and leaned back again, closing his eyes. By the time the elevator pulled up to the correct floor, the pain was leaving the bites and moving through his whole body, making it feel like he'd been run over by a bus. Ben supported Sandy and Tor as they limped to their rooms, and Spin helped Mycah.

"Would you really have shot him?" he asked, trying not to lean too much on Spin's small frame.

"Maybe. I was about to. But it wouldn't have hurt him that bad. I only grabbed the first thing I could find, and it was just a bar-code blaster." She laughed quietly at Mycah's confused look. "Nickname for a weak gun that doesn't do much than give someone a blistery sunburn, but it hurts the spiders enough to turn them back."

Mycah nodded and was grateful to stumble to his bed, clothes and shoes still on. He passed out almost right away and tried to sleep away the venom running through his body.

With no one to wake him up and no type of clock or way of measuring time in his room, Mycah was completely disoriented when he woke up in the complete darkness of his room, bites aching. When he tried to sit up, he found that the scabs on the bites had dried to the sheets and he had to painfully pull them apart before he could shuffle to the bathroom and flip on the light. When he saw what the bites had turned in to he made a shocked and disgus