Note: The thing about Skye in the Trapped franchise is loosely based on something that happened in Black Butler that, (avoiding spoilers) frankly, I'm still upset about.

Location: Whitman residence

Time: Wednesday, October 16

Weather: Sweater Weather

"And that concludes the local report for the seven o'clock hour. After the break, meteorologist Randy Martinez will give us our forecast, plus a live look at what the Hub is calling a major security crisis—"

"Go, go Technosaur! Go, go! Bear with me now!"

There was a burst of music as the screen suspended above the counter filled with technicolor stars.

The kitchen had become a disaster area. Deconstructed antique parts littered the island counter. A pair of duffle bags lay burst open, spreading an even coating of school uniforms and bedtime toiletries across the tile. The mosaic backsplash, usually so clean it sparkled, showed evidence of some unknown liquid spatter.

At the center of the chaos were a pair of boys on barstools, sleeves of their satin pyjamas rolled up to the elbow. Oberon's curls were sticking straight up, and there was a crease across the side of his face as if he had slept on the island counter. Fin knew he probably had the same mark on his face. He had spent the morning rocketing through the last paragraph of his report as Oberon shoveled in large amounts of the breakfast he'd slapped together.

It had surprised Fin when he first learned that Oberon could cook, though it made sense. His parents were at work more than they were at home, and unlike Fin, he had no siblings to rely on to do the cooking for him. The food was good, though nearly half the ingredients ended up on the kitchen instead of the food, and for some reason Oberon seemed to feel the need to cook an entire smorgasbord.

A veritable mountain of amateur concoctions had been piled out of the way of the vintage lamps and the clocks, the bike tires and the phonographs, onto a single platter where it had no choice but to jumble together. There was bacon grease on the sticky buns, cinnamon on the bacon, and the flapjacks had flapped nearly off of the plate.

Next to Fin, Oberon looked up from his attempt to disassemble an antique lamp and eat quiche simultaneously. Fin paused his writing, swiveling the barstool one hundred eighty degrees to see a boxer-clad Larry brandishing the tv remote.

"Hey! What're ya doin'? I have to watch the news while I eat breakfast, my routine's gonna be all messed up now!" Ob grabbed for the remote, leaving finger-shaped grease marks across Larry's bare forearm.

"Shove it. Prince Power and the Cosmic Bears is on." He tucked the remote safely under his arm, singing softly along with the tv as he scooped up a few pieces of the cinnamoned bacon.

"Justice and light as we meet in the stars, I'm hoping for a chance to— Hey! Stick by you! Go! Go! Go!"

"I was kinda curious to know what that security crisis was about, actually," Fin murmured from two inches above his paper. His wrist was practically on fire, but he was in the home stretch now.

"And the weather! What about the weather?" Ob held up two sets of tube socks, complete with garters. "I was going to wear the silk if it was warm and the moleskin if it was cold, how will I know that now?"

Fin shook the cramp out of his hand. Just a few more...

"You could check the weather app on your phone though??"

"You're missing the point here!"

"Yeah, you're right. I have no idea what point you're trying to get at."

Fin slammed his pencil against the marble in triumph. His friends whirled towards the noise, socks and bears abandoned for the moment. He slumped forward. "It's done! It's finally done!"

Oberon clapped his hands together. "Excellent! And by 'it', you mean...?"

"His report, what else could it be you twit."

"Has anyone even used the word twit in, like, the past decade?"

"Someone obviously has if I just used it a second ago, moron."

"The one who calls someone a moron is a moron."

Fin lifted his hands to the sky theatrically. "After all these years of hard work,"

"YeARS," Larry choked.

"Today I'll be rid of it for good!"

"Unless something happens so that you can't hand it in," hummed Oberon.

Fin threw his pencil at his friend. It landed, eraser side down, in the middle of his plate of quiche. "Why would you say something like that? Now you've jinxed it!"

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

Originally, there was some controversy as to whether to carve the territory into sections in this way. Critics at the time feared that separating into groups would only estrange those in the territory from one another. Even now some may beg the question: can this form of division truly be beneficial? However in the passage of time, future generations have observed that, rather than weakening our bonds, the sectors have served to strengthen society. The system has developed in a way that each sector is free to devote themselves almost entirely to their task without fear of other needs not being met. It is as if the entire territory were a massive marionette, with each sector being one of the wooden pieces. As a solid block of wood, mobility is stiff and growth is limited. But if each appendage is able to perform to the max of their ability, with the Hub as the grand puppet master knowing which strings to pull and when, it is transformed into something as durable as it is powerful. The sectors began as a way to confine a global economy to a highly condensed space, but since that time they have become much more. Not even the founders of Evadam themselves could have ever envisioned the advances that have come from that original fourteen-way split. It is in our individuality that we are made strong. It is in our unity that our strength may surpass anyone who dare threaten the territory we call home.

Bibliography

--------

--------

--------

--------

--------

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

Des-Is-For-Desire: U MEAN TO TELL ME

Cuppycakes: oh dear

Des-Is-For-Desire: after TWO YEARS of air time

FreeWithMagnium: here it comes

Des-Is-For-Desire: TWO LONG YEARS of growing with these people and loving them and actualy knowing who they are

Des-Is-For-Desire: u think u can just suddenly pull this "oh im not really skye ive been living a lie for years bc i was sure she dead lol"?????? WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO THROW IN SUCH A SOAP OPERA LIKE DEVELOPMENT SO LATE IN THE GAME

Jean&SkyeShouldx0x0: PREACH IT

1896437pirates: Honestly I'm just confused? Like what just happened?

1896437pirates: the one we thought was Skye was lying all this time and the real one is terminally ill... Something seems weird

1896437pirates: what about those flashbacks of Jean and Skye as kids, I mean it's obviously [the one who isn't Skye] in the flashbacks

Des-Is-For-Desire: LIES, ALL OF IT LIES!

HulloHellow: @1896437pirates [the one who isn't Skye] what do we even call her now does she even have a name

FreeWithMagnium: they're still calling her Skye so...

Jeeeeeaaaan886: and what about the family locket of succession she clearly wouldn't have if she wasn't the real deal

1896437pirates: my brain hurts

Fluffypudge: in other news, at least Jean's alive

Im-A-JEANdarme: @Des-Is-For-Desire how are Jean and his kid doing these days?

LJ_99_36: @Des-Is-For-Desire has your mom brought home any more fictional characters

Cuppycakes: heyo heyo btw @Des-Is-For-Desire how'd that date yesterday go?

AdminJohn: Please try to keep conversations not related to Trapped out of the forum. Socializing is what your personal accounts are for. Not trying to be harsh, but it clogs up the admin's inbox with everyone having separate conversations.

Cuppycakes:@Des-Is-For-Desire hit me up http://www.chatlite.net/€uppycake$/chat.live.sh5jk.fFNzs-26gsD

⌛⏳⌛Page is loading...⏳⌛⏳

Welcome to Chat Lite!

ObliviousMoron: it's me

€uppycake$: username gold

ObliviousMoron: I have six siblings don't ask

€uppycake$: so how'd ur date with that Mabel girl go?

ObliviousMoron: it didn't

€uppycake$: ???

ObliviousMoron: her sister bailed out on this government thing and her mom grounded the whole family for it

€uppycake$: awwe that blows :(

ObliviousMoron: also bc she's going to the Blue Moon Festival with Chet.

€uppycake$: oh

€uppycake$: well there are other fish in the sea

ObliviousMoron: Hannah's going with an upperclassmen, Prudence is going with a football player, and Candace told me she'd go with me if I drank a wineglass of bleach

€uppycake$: ouch

ObliviousMoron: wait I'm not done

ObliviousMoron: Maria's going with the student council rep, Valerie and Fiona are going with each other, Sammi is skipping but she assured me she wouldn't go with me even if she wasn't

ObliviousMoron: I could go on for a while

€uppycake$: don't worry, I still think ur good lookin

ObliviousMoron: that sounds like something a 40 year old predator would say

€uppycake$: I am a 40 year old predator though??? I thought you knew??

ObliviousMoron: what a coincidence so am I

ObliviousMoron: everyone you meet online is automatically z 40 year old predator

ObliviousMoron: wait hold up how can I be attractive if we've never seen each other

ObliviousMoron: should I be afraid

€uppycake$: well u know, something about that sexy sans serif typeface, u feel

ObliviousMoron: ...

ObliviousMoron: ...

ObliviousMoron: yah I feel

ObliviousMoron: still locking my door though

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

Dezi slumped onto the table.

"Your face'll freeze that way," quipped Meg from the chair across from him.

"Did anyone notice if your older brothers ever came home?" Caroline asked over her steaming mug of tea.

The four kids present at the table exchanged a look. "No, I don't think they did," Dezi eventually said.

His mom laughed, unphased as ever. "Ahahaha I wonder what they're up to this time?"

Meg frowned. "Um, is that really alright..."

At that moment the back door clattered open. Dezi's heart leapt out into his cereal bowl as he spun at the intruder.

"Jean!"

His hair was drenched, plastered and sticking in all directions, and sweat rolled down his face in rivets. His cloak had gotten torn in a few places and his fingertips were cracked and bleeding.

The very same stranger who'd been frequenting their house for the past few days, now had white rimmed eyes only for their mother.

"We're out of time, Caroline," He forced the sentence out as if it pained him.

"Jean Winters!" Dezi's mom scolded, "You promised at least a week—"

Jean strode across the kitchen and tossed something to the center of the table, barely clearing the teapot. It was a mobile phone, with the words Broadcast Security Alert! shining up at them.

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

The government was reduced to chaos yesterday evening when a large portion of classified information was reported missing. Efforts to track the culprit brought up evidence of magnium in several inner Hub buildings. Following that, the large scale arson of the justice center Citadel prompted the Hub to release this statement: "We have reason to believe that terrorists from outside the barrier have infiltrated the territory in attempt to seize control of our abundant resources." The Hub has implemented a large-scale lockdown for the fourteen sectors to be put in effect just before rush hour today, and will be sending out troops to conduct a widespread search for the offenders. Anyone who may have information on this matter, call our anonymous hotline at x-(xxx)-xxx-xxxx.

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

Everyone at the table seemed shocked enough. Pretty creepy stuff, terrorists getting past the barrier and all that. What was the point in having a barrier in the first place if it doesn't do its job? None of them were as freaked out as Dezi's mom though.

"Jean, what does this mean?"

"Hit— Tito is waiting outside, come on."

"Wait, hold on a second, Jean!" She rose from the table. Her face had gone an ashy shade of pale.

"Didn't you hear me? We're out of time! We need to go!"

Dezi looked on, confused. The adults were getting awfully upset about this, weren't they? Sure, he supposed there were some pretty major security concerns, but the Hub had never failed to find their man before. What was the fuss?

"What's wrong, Mister Winters?" Ada piped up with a frown. Apparently his siblings were following the same train of thought.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" Jean threw up his hands , looking frantic. "I wonder. What could the matter be? What's wrong." The man continued mumbling to himself under his breath.

What in heavens name was going on?

"If they find me, I'm going to be executed! Hito too!"

Executed. The word thudded into Dezi's gut. His palms broke a cold sweat. What— What—

"Jean, calm down for a second..."

"No, Caroline. We have to start moving now. Today. This second." He made to grab her by the shoulders, none too gently from the looks of it.

She shook him off. "Juno! I have kids out there! Three of my boys aren't home, we have to at least get them—"

"There's no time for that!"

He was exaggerating, right? You couldn't just throw out words like executed in the middle of breakfast! And—

Hang on a second. Dezi's brain finally caught up with his ears as he processed the meaning of that statement. You mean to say this terrorist ring has something to do with Jean? And that means that just by being around this person...

This terrorist ring has something to do with my mom?!

Dezi's heart slammed against his ribs, but the conversation hadn't stopped for the sake of his musing. It continued over the top of his thoughts. Oh, did it ever continue.

"You know better than anyone how easy it is to survive alone in this area," Jean was saying, "They are intelligent children, they will be—"

The woman slammed her fist into the table, startling them all. "WHY DID YOU EVEN COME HERE! I had finally, FINALLY gotten my life back in order, and to what end?! To leave part of my family behind again?? I won't do it! Fiancé or not, I'm through compromising my family's safety for other people's poor decisions!"

Dezi flinched. His mom did many things, but she never yelled. Hearing it would be surreal if it wasn't terrifying. Ada and Chip ducked into Dezi, cringing into his stomach.

"And what about you? Do you think your family will be spared? Is that what you think?!"

There was a moment of complete silence. Like the fight that had sprung up so quickly had died in all of them. Dezi should've seized the opportunity to get out a few questions, his head had never spun with so many questions, but he couldn't seem to get the words out. His mom was trembling. She looked ready to cry. Could this really be the same woman as five minutes ago?

The woman who had done so much for Dezi forced out a hard breath of air. She raised her head the tears were gone from her eyes, but so was her usual smile. In their place was the unnatural calm of a person who'd resolved themselves to do something unpleasant. She spoke, in an equally chilling voice, "Give me a few minutes to gather some stuff together."

Jean reached his hand out, then retracted it. He looked regretful for having spoken so harshly. "Caroline, I—" he faltered. "I never meant to force this. But I can't change what's done. We have to go."

"No— you're right." She looked to Meg, who'd migrated to her side, then to Dezi, who still had the twins buried in his stomach. "Go up to your rooms and get anything you're particularly sentimental about. Don't bring anything more than what will fit in your overnight bags."

"Mom?" The word jumped from Dezi's lips without his consent. Like a dam had been broken, a torrent of question after question streamed unbidden from his mouth and the mouths of his sisters and brother.

"Where are we going?"

"Why do we have to pack?"

"What's a ter-ror-ist?"

"Didn't you get Jean's name wrong earlier—"

"What is—"

"HEY!"

Meg's shout stemmed the chatter, bringing the room once again to its uneasy quiet. His older sister inherited Thomas's habit of clenching her jaw. Why hadn't Dezi ever noticed before? In a voice barely a whisper, she asked, "Mom, are we... Are we leaving the sector?"

A brief glimpse of who Dezi's mom had been that morning; her smile had returned, but not as it was before. She laughed, a sad, hollow imitation of the usual sound. "No, Nutmeg."

Their mother looked to the floor, then steeling herself met the eyes of each of them. Her next words turned Dezi's stomach to ice.

"We're leaving Evadam. And we might not be coming back."