Picture of the Norther Headquarters

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 "What's this? You aren't as gutless as you appeared." The three of them stop in their tracks as Uncle Darrel steps in front of them, emerging from a small side road.

"Go to hell." Valery growls.

Matt hands out a sword to Angela. She yanks it out of his grip and Matt pulls his own blade. The two move to stand protectively in front of Valery. Weaponless, Valery clenches and unclenches her hands. My first mission and I'm stuck on the sidelines... This is such bullshit. Normally I'd say screw it and swing for the fences, but I can't afford to take the fall again. We won't get another chance to escape if we fail.

"I've been there. It's a nice vacation spot," he responds, grinning.

"What do you want?" Valery demands, glaring at him.

"Of course, I knew you were going to escape. Dear Trent is going to pay for that one. Thanks to my little friend you let escape, I have quite the story. But. It doesn't have to be this way. You've had two doses now. You're going to start losing your memory soon. We were a family once. We can be again. Remember all those nights I read to you? Everyone was afraid of you, but I was there."

"Families don't betray each other," She mutters bitterly, her arms trembling with the desire to fight. I could end my family's grief right here and now if only I could fight... Damn it.

"What if by turning yourself in, I assure you things would go better for Trent? Once you fully transition, I can have him released," Her uncle suggests.

"You're full of B.S. I'm not an idiot, not a child you can trick by holding a handout to! The moment I transition I won't want him freed. I won't make a deal that won't help him. I won't play your game," Valery snarls, frothing at the mouth.

"Alright." He shrugs, drawing his sword. "If you want to play the hard way, we can

play."

Angela jumps back as Matt sprints forward. He clashes against Darrel, stuck in a stalemate.

"Val," Angela murmurs, grasping one of Valery's hands tightly between two of hers. Valery feels the chill of the metal key against her skin. "Run."

Valery nods, balling her hand against the key.

"Be safe," Valery whispers. The sound of blades clanging violently rings out behind Angela.

"Free him," Angela responds, releasing Valery's hand before she turns towards Matt, her sword out and ready.

Valery whirls around and runs. At first it is slow and sluggish, her body numb from cold and exhaustion.

"Don't let her get away!" Her uncle bellows. Her adrenaline surges, propelling her forward. Her mind begins to clear as she forces herself to speed up, sprinting through the snow as best she can.

In the far corner of her vision, she spots a shadow of a man, hunched over in a tree. With no time to react, he jumps out and lands on her. The two of them hit the ground hard, rolling and wrestling as Valery fights for her freedom.

Smashing her elbow into the underside of his chin, Valery grins as his bruising grip loosens. Scrambling to her feet, she takes off running again. The pounding heart overpowers her senses, making her unable to hear if she's pursued.

I have to find a way to free him. Valery leans against the vinyl siding of a home. She takes a moment to catch her breath, her chest feeling as though it's about to burst. The scuffle tore her wound open anew, sending a cascade of fresh blood down her shirt. She tightens her grip around the key. He needs me. With one more deep breath she straightens up and heads towards HQ, trying to think past the pain. She strains to pick up the slightest bit of heat, praying her senses will return soon. Matt has the pass. There must be more than one door to this thing, right? Right?

She stumbles forward, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other. Her eyes are on her feet, being mindful where she steps.. She keeps one hand pressed against her wound, and a fist with the key in it trailing against the wall for balance. Finding peace in the dark Northern night where no one else wants to be out, she doesn't stop until she runs out of wall to lean on. The cold stings her bare hands.

In front of her looms a tall dark building, iron gates wrapping its way around the building. An acre of lawn stretches out behind the gate, leading up the door. The yard is covered in untouched snow, all except a trail of footprint leading to and from the front door and gate.

Has to be another way! Bringing her hands to her face, she blows on them and rubs them together, trying to find some life in her frozen fingers. The warmth of her breath strings.

She slinks around the building, grasping each rail of the fence as she moves. She looks the building over intently, looking for a weakness. The place is dark, no light shows through any of the windows. An occasional flicker from window to window hints at a patrol passing through with torches. Windows sit long on the wall, almost level with the ground.

He's sure to be down there, if I could just find a way in!

The door of the Headquarters swings wide open, knocking into the wall. The bang echoes loud in the quiet of the night. Valery gasps before she ducks down, eyes darting all around. A patrol passes through the gate, it swings shut silently right behind them. They head down the street she was just on, barely missing her. Their feet pound on the pavement, fading into the distance. She blows into her hands once more, shaking life into them as she stands. I need to get out of the open. She continues on her way, exhaustion and pain weighing her down. Her feet drag in the snow. She makes sure to have a careful grasp on each bar before she presses on.

One bar wiggles under her touch. Her hand locking tighter around it, she turns towards it. Wrapping both frozen, numb hands around it, she yanks. The bar snaps, leaving just enough room for her to be able to crawl through. She looks at the pure, untouched snow.

Thank the Angels it's dark, they won't see the tracks until the sun rises. And by then, we'll be long gone. I hope.

Keeping the metal rod in her hand, she squeezes through the gap in the fence. The snow beyond is just as deep as the woods they trudged through hours before. Valery presses her back against the building, shaking the snow off her pant legs. She takes a moment to catch her breath as she looks around, listening, her eyes on the window before her, making sure not a speck of light shows behind it.

This is going to hurt. She swings the metal bar, shattering the low window. The sound of a million pieces of glass shattering explodes through the night sounding like a firework. She dives through the window before the glass can finish falling, knowing it's better to get out of sight swiftly.

She hits the ground hard, rolling to a stop.

Valery groans, propping herself up. The instant relief of being out the cold hits her first as she wiggles her fingers and toes. Then, the smell hits her. The room is stale, smelling of mold, death and dried blood. Gagging, she finds herself grateful she can't tell what's in the room. Valery stumbles to her feet and fumbles her way towards the door, grateful to find it unlocked.

On the other side, a long hall stretches out on each side of her, branching out to all corners of HQ.

"Trent?" Valery calls as she slinks her way through the bowels of headquarters. Her chest hurts and her legs shake with exhaustion. She leans heavily against the dingy wall as she moves, welcome for its chilly support. After her dash through the city, it's all she can do to stand, let alone put one foot in front of the other. "Trent?" Not even a breath around her. Pain, fear, and exhaustion work together to make her body feel like a cement block. She lets out a sob.

What was I thinking? We can't do this. I should have listened. Her foot catches on the back of her heel. She sprawls forward onto the unforgiving floor. Another sob escapes as she curls herself into a ball. Some great hero I'm turning out to be. Lost in some tunnels, alone and unable to rescue one person. I'm not ready. I should have listened. I can't do this. I want to go home!

Her sobs echo up and down the corridor. She doesn't care to stop them.

"Won't accomplish anything if you stop moving." A voice croaks. It's rough and forced, but enough to cause her to lift her head from her knees.

"Trent?" She calls hopefully.

"I'm here."

"Keep talking." She begs him as she picks herself up off the ground. She sniffles, wipes the tears off her face.

"You shouldn't have come," He tells her.

"You would have done the same for me," She tells him.

"I'm trained, you're not," He states simply.

"Think that would stop me? Where did all that training get you anyhow?" Valery demands.

"I didn't fight, I couldn't. Not once I knew you were out there." His voice was soft, defeated. Valery rounds a corner and finds cells lining the walls. And at the end, another stairwell leading upstairs. "Oh Val." Trent murmurs as Valery steps into his sight and he takes in her blood covered shirt. "I was afraid you were as good as dead in that cell. What did they do to you?"

"What have they done to you?" She repeats as she rushes over, wrapping a hand around one of his as they grip the bars tight. Trent's eyes are tired and haunted. Dried blood from a fresh wound is smeared across his face. His nose sits slanted, freshly broken. There's a gash on his forearm, knot on his forehead, and his left eye is swollen and bruised. He sure put up a fight. A moment of guilt passes through her crying for herself. She uncurls her stiff fingers from around the key. Blood flow starts flowing back into them, making them tingle and throb as she fumbles the key into the lock. The sound of it clicking open brings tears to her eyes. She releases the breath she didn't know she was holding as the door swings open.

"You're amazing." Trent sighs as Valery stumbles into his open arms. He staggers with the impact.

"Don't thank me yet, we need to get out of here." She tells him as she pulls away, looking at him a moment, hardly believing he is standing in front of her.

Trent nods, taking her hand tightly in his. The warmth of his touch is welcoming. The warmth! She closes her eyes, taking a breath to focus on the feeling. My fire. It's returning. The fire lives inside of me. My body knows the drug now. Burned it off. Now you're going to pay.

"What the- how did you-" A Devil's Own stammers in shock, seeing the two of them emerge from the cell.

"Hi, your algorithm is a little off," Valery comments, grinning as she walks slowly towards him, amused as she watches his Adams apple slowly go down and back up. "You don't EVER want to underestimate a Guardian. I wouldn't make a sound, if I were you," sheadds, watching his jaw fall in protest.

She materializes a small ball of fire in the palm of her hand. It's all her strained self can manage, but it's enough. She smiles to herself as he locks his jaw tight. Focusing on Valery, Trent steps up behind him, yanking the syringe out of his hand.

"Let's see what you think of your own drug, shall we?" Trent asks as he jabs the needle into the Devil's Own shoulder. As he goes weak kneed, Trent catches him and throws him the cell. Valery lets the fire die in her hand.

"Don't worry." Trent comments as he steps out of the cell and closes the door. Valery hands him the key to lock the door back up. "You won't be down here long. Next time a dose needs to be administered; you will be found."

Stepping out of view of the cell, he leans against the wall with a heavy sigh, shaking his head.

"You alright?" Valery murmurs, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"This drug. It's cruel." He closes his head tight and shakes his head. He opens his eyes and focuses on Valery. "You're here." He grins.

"I-I opened your cell, Trent. Don't you remember?"

He closes his eyes tight with a sigh.

"Yeah, yeah. I do. It's... blurry."

"Let's get you home. You'll be ok," she assures him, taking his hand in hers. He opens his eyes and looks at her, as a man would look before drowning. The look shatters her heart.

"You'll be ok. I didn't come all this way for nothing." She tells him, her voice filled with more confidence that she feels. "Do you have any idea how you were brought in?"

"Th-there's a storm door," he answers hesitantly. "Other side of the stairs."

"We'll take it." She nods, takes his hand and starts guiding him away. "The sooner we get you out of here the better." As they walk, she watches him out of the corner of her eye. He drags his feet, stripped of everything that made him who he is.

How much has he forgotten? He welcomed me warmly enough, but he's a ghost of himself. How many injections has he had?

The first few flakes of a spring snow fall on them as they open the heavy door and emerge onto a training ground. The training grounds look it was once used as a soccer field. A faded white circle in the center now hosts a small armory tent instead of kick offs. The field is closed off on three sides, all sides of the building had access to it.

Makes sense. Easy to get the captives onto the field she realizes as she watches Trent's face twist with anxiety. "It's alright." She assures him, giving his hand a squeeze. The anxiety on his face causes her stomach to knot up in anger.

What have they done to him?