The moon bathed the city in it's unforgiving rays, yet the young boy payed no heed to it, instead choosing to rub his arms in a poor attempt at warming them.

Tonight is much too cold to spend it running, he thought bitterly, watching as his breath condensed into fog as it hit the frigid air.

He was currently crouched behind a crumbling building, sitting in a puddle of filth while trying to catch a break. He managed to lose the green mouse a few times, but it always tracked him down again.

Every. Single. Time.

How long had they been playing hide-and-seek? He was tired of this. If only he was in a better circumstance; maybe if he had a full belly, or maybe if he hadn't just woken up from a coma and was forced to run.

The city streets were beguining to become a blur to him. Every shady nook he lead the creature into hadn't detered it, and he was steadily running out of hiding spots.

Scratch,
Scratch,
Scratch.

He froze. Those sounds were coming from the left side of the building that were much too close for his liking. He wasted no time in getting up and dashing down the road again. The exhaustion was creeping up on him, and his entire body protested every time he took a step forward. He would slow down soon, and once he did he was done for. He had to loose it, but how?

Think...think...

The wind suddenly got knocked out of him as something rammed into his back from behind. He landed face-first on the pavement, not able to breathe. It got him. Sharp claws sunk into his back and he nearly cried out at the pain. He was spent. He couldn't fight anymore. Afterall, orphans weren't meant to live.

It was a street rat's fate to live and die on the roads. The claws sunk in deeper, and this time he didn't bother trying to mask his scream. He could imagine his blood sleeping out and coating the mouse's claws in shades of scarlet. The claws went deeper. He cried out, a dangerous cocktail of rage and sadness turning in him like a hurricane waiting to be let loose. He imagined the smug face of the mouse. It was probably celebrating catching such big prey. Prey.

The word churned around his mind.

Prey.....

Prey....

Prey...

Prey..

Bullshit! I refuse my fate!

He roared, twisting around with uncovered strength and launching the mouse off of him. The claws ripped painfully out of his back, and he cried out as the blood seeped down his shoulder blades, unbidden by the claws that plugged it. The mouse charged at him, but he was ready. He pulled his arms up into a block, covering his head. Its jaws clenched around his lower arm, perfectly encapsulating it. Pearly white fangs tore his skin and greeting him with what his fate would be if he had given up. It only motivated him more.

"I won't let you kill me!" he growled, his voice sounding so much weaker than it usually was.

He forced his other arm into the mouse's jaw and pushed back with all his might. The fangs tore through his arm and finally dislodged once it reached the back of its throat, pushing the giant mouse backward. He shuddered.

I would've bled out if those fangs were closer to my wrists.

Its eyes narrowed into slits, and he could feel it eyeing his neck. The mouse's muzzle was covered in blood, and he had a stark flashback as to what it looked like when it was eating the old man. He wouldn't let the same fate befall him. Just as he was readying for it to pounce again, its ears lifted up sharply and it sniffed the air, seemingly sensing something. It eyed him one more time, before backing away and bounding off.

Something inside him screamed that he should run too. That if a predator who could rip you apart fled, you should too. But when a black and white car pulled up just in front of him with 'Mask Force' painted across the body, he finally gave up.

-------------------

He had woken up on something suspiciously soft, the scent of water and expensive soap hitting his nose. Why was he feeling warm? Was he not on the floor a few moments ago?

"You're awake," a voice said. He startled, immediately jumping up. White walls greeted him. Was he in a hospital? Suddenly, everything felt sore and he fell back down onto the bed. It was so soft and warm, so much better than anything he's ever had before.

The voice chuckled. "Its going to hurt for a while. You got messed up pretty badly, buddy. Did Alfred's masked-dog rip you up?" It questioned. He stayed silent.

"You can talk to me, buddy. It's okay," he looked up at the voice, surprised to see a large man in his mid-thirties. He was obviously very strong, judging from his stature. Cleanly-cut black hair dotted his head and chin and a friendly smile stretched across his face. What surprised him most, however, was the lack of a mask. He was the one in the Mask Force car. How did he not have one?

The man noticed his stare and cleared his throat. "The real Masks are dealing with bigger problems. There's not many Masks, anyway. They need to spend their time wisely." He supplied.

He mentally stored the information away. "How did you know where I was?" he croaked. It had been too long since he'd talked to another human, especially an adult. Basic social etiquette had seemed to leave him.

"Alfred's dog. The dogs mask is also wirelessly connected to the security systems Alfred had us put in place. It immediately alerted the authorities once it's heart rate and blood pressure rised,"the man answered with a smile, seemingly quite pleased with himself.

He felt himself breaking out into a cold sweat. That's why the dog didn't pursue him when he ran away from the mouse. He didn't know the dog could do that. What else could it have done?

"It also took a video of the whole confrontation from the dogs perspective. It seems like you broke into his house," for the first time since seeing him, the man frowned. It made him incredibly nervous.

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble yet," he continued on, oblivious to the boys internal conflict, "however, Alfred Holster seemed to be missing. Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

The old man missing? He was dead. He seen his face getting chewed out by a monstrous mouse. Saying that to the Mask Force seemed like a bad idea, however. The man suddenly ripped out a recording device and fiddled with it. He unconsciously knew that anything he said now would either be his saving grace or his downfall.

He remembered being knocked conscious the mouse 'taking care' of him. He couldn't have been out for long if the Mask Force completely missed a boy tied to a bed-post and being held by a monster mouse. Does that mean the mouse completely devoured the mans body while he was unconscious?

"First of all, do you have a parent or legal guardian?"

He froze. If he told the man he had no parents, he would definitely call the orphanage. He couldn't go back there. Suddenly, a taunting flicker of hope burned within him. What if the man found him foster parents instead? What if the orphanage wasn't full? No, it was a risk. He couldn't do that, no matter how nice it sounded in his head. Even if he got foster parents, there would be no guarantee that they were even nice.

"Yes. He was the old ma-" he corrected himself, "I mean, Alfred Holster. He was my grandpa. My parents died."

The man nodded, fidgeting with his tape-recorder. He believed him!

"Ah, okay. Is there any other adult you trust or want with you here?" the man asked gently, suddenly sympathetic.

He hated that. He didn't need sympathy from anyone, but he kept his mouth shut. Thinking back to the old man's daughter and son, he shook his head no.

"Alright," the man suddenly came closer, sitting on a thin black chair that was near his bedside, "I know this is scary, and you're probably very confused. How old are you, buddy?" he questioned.

He stayed silent. The man sighed, rubbing his temples with his free hand.

"It must be painful to loose your parents and grandfather at such a young age bud, but you have to work with me here," the man said again, reaching over to rub his shoulder. He nearly balked at the contact, but gritted his teeth. He couldn't afford to be caught out. He nodded, making a pitiful face. Now that was something he was experienced at, looking as fragile as glass.

He still wasn't going to answer. "Alright, atleast tell me if you're older or younger than eighteen."

"Younger," he replied in a clipped tone.

"Alright. Now, the camera footage showed you ramming the door down to get into house. Mind telling me why that was, buddy?"

He panicked. He had to make a believable excuse.

"Ah, I - I mean, grandpa usually always answers the door on the first knock. And he's very old and frail. I panicked and assumed the worst," he fibbed, praying to any remaining gods that the man would believe him.

The man smiled warmly, a twinkle in his dark-brown eyes. He approved of the answer. "When you got in, did you see Mister Holster, your grandpa?"

He shook his head no. "He was already gone." he fibbed again, feeling a cold weight in his stomach. Was this good? Making lies about a dead man? Did he not deserve justice? He banished the thoughts as soon as they came. No, he was alive. The old man wouldn't mind.

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answers. "Alright, son. Do you have any surviving extended family members you'd feel comfortable going home with?" he asked.

Damn. They would definitely contact the old mans children, and that would burst his whole scheme.

"N-no. They're all dead," he stuttered. Technically, it wasn't a lie. His family really was dead.

"Ah, alright," the man seemed conflicted, "hold on. Let me contact someone." He got up from the tiny chair, his stocky frame slowly leaving the room. The boys heart thudded an uneven rhythm against his ribcage, like an animal waiting to claw it's way out.

If he was fast enough, he could break out of the hospital and never look back. But the room only had one exit, and he was unfamiliar with the hospital. It would take him too long to find the exit. Maybe if he-

His plotting was interrupted as the man came back into the room. "Alright, buddy. I'm going to have to place you in emergency foster care-"

His heart dropped. "An orphanage?"

The man shook his head no. "An emergency foster parent, not an orphanage," he clarified. The boy nearly sobbed in relief. He wasn't going back to that horrible place.

"...Since Mister Holster was an elusive man, we really can't find out much about him without some digging..."

The rest of the mans words seemed to blur to him. They're unnecessary, his mind supplied.

He was safe.

For now.