Hal Whittaker walked through the halls of his school, not willing to go home until he met with Diana Crocious. Not because he found her attractive or anything—she was just a plain girl. No, she tended to know all the right answers to all his tests and he planned on asking her again. Although she usually tried to squirm away, she ended up helping him in the end.

Sure enough, the blonde Diana was fiddling with her locker. There was no one else in the hall with them, and Hal leaned against the locker next to Diana's. The sixteen-year-old girl looked up at him, her green eyes wide, freckles flecked across her face. She was about a head shorter than the tall Hal, and a good deal thinner as well. Diana had to crane her neck to look at him. "Hi, Hal," she said, her wispy voice little more than a whisper.

"Hi, Diana," he said in reply. A little sheepishly, he ran a hand over his own short, auburn hair, sure that his cheeks were as red as his hair. "How—how's it going?"

"Okay," she said, still watching him. "You?"

"Okay," he answered. He ran his hand over his hair again. "Do you—umm, I mean—that geometry quiz was pretty hard. You know, slopes and logic and stuff. Did you figure it all out?"

She nodded. "I aced it."

Of course she had. Diana always did. "I failed," Hal admitted.

"I'm sorry," Diana told him.

"Why?"

"For, you know, you failing it?" She blinked at him, a little confused.

"Oh, right." Hal rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing at the bumps of acne back there. Puberty had been the worst. "Yeah. I knew that. So, um, can you give me a hand with it? You're really good at these kinds of things."

Diana brushed some of her pixie-cut blonde hair from her eyes. "Oh, um, thanks, Hal. I'll tutor you if you do me a big favor."

Oh boy. Hal forced a smile and said, "Yeah, sure, anything. Whatcha need?"

Diana started chewing on her oddly-painted fingernails—they were a bright yellow color. "Oh, it's not so hard. I just want you to walk me home for a while. A week, maybe? That's it."

That made Hal flush in embarrassment. Did she really think he liked her in that way? It really made him feel guilty for being her friend just so she would tutor him. Quickly, Diana spoke over him. "I don't mean to imply I like you in that way, Hal. I just want ... I'm afraid of going home alone."

"Why?"

"My parents are out of town, and I'm afraid of getting there to an empty house," Diana admitted. "Please, won't you walk with me?"

Hal sighed inwardly. "Oh, alright, Diana. You'll tutor me though, right?"

She nodded. "Of course. Fair is fair." To his surprise, she gave him a smile. "Can we go now?"

Hal jumped, realizing he'd been staring. "Oh, right! Yeah. Leave. Let's go."

He led the way out of the school and Diana followed him. He thought he heard her laughing a little, but when he turned around, her face was completely serious. Hal never saw the smile Diana was hiding.

. . . . . . . . . .

From across the street, watching from one of the two-story houses there, the man turned to his wife, running a hand through his long brown hair. "Is that her?" he asked his wife.

She cocked her head, her raven curls kissing her straight shoulders. "Seems to be. My, she doesn't look like much, does she? Who's the tall fellow with her, Art?"

Art shrugged, leaning closer to the window and peering out. With his vision that could see in the dark and for miles, he had no need of binoculars. "No clue. Does he look like a kid still in that awkward stage, though. He's got to be over six feet tall, but I don't think he's grown into his own skin yet." Art chortled. "What say you, Storm?"

Storm shrugged. "We wait," she said. "Nobody's approached either of them. If Diana is approaching someone, chances are, there's a reason. We know she's too scared to come up to anyone otherwise."

Art nodded thoughtfully. "We wait, then," he agreed, and slung his arm over his wife's shoulders. "I don't mind waiting with you at all, my dear."

She slapped his arm off her shoulder. "Business, Art," she told him. "We're here on business."

Art heaved a sigh. "Right as always, 'Thorn'!" he said teasingly.

This time, Storm gave him a glare with her clear eyes. "Keep your thoughts to yourself, Eagle," she snapped before turning her gaze back to Diana Crocious across the street.

By that time, both she and her gangling companion had disappeared from sight.

. . . . . . . . . .

When Hal walked home after leaving Diana at her house, he had a sneaking suspicion he was being taken advantage of. She had waved cheerily and promised to sit with Hal at lunch the following morning to tutor him in geometry. However, he couldn't decide if she was fooling him or not. The last couple of times she'd helped him, she had always been distant, shy. Now, on their way home, she seemed nice and more animated than normal. It was completely strange.

He was so occupied with his own thoughts, he didn't even notice that he had several stalkers on his tail. Two of them were Art and Storm, trying to determine why Diana had approached him. The other, however, was not friendly. He only went away when it became apparent that Hal was not coming out of his house.

. . . . . . . . . .

Diana collapsed on her couch in the living room after Hal had gone away. She was incredibly grateful to the boy for walking her home, not because she was afraid of the dark or anything like that—but that she knew someone had been following her. She couldn't risk getting caught, not now, not when she was so close to finding what she was looking for.

For a long time, Diana sat silently on her couch, staring at the blank TV screen across from her. She had no power or anything anymore, and the lights were all off. As the sun set, she stayed there in darkness. The silence was deafening, yet it was rather relaxing in her silent and small living room. She leaned her head back and started to take a nap.

A knock on her door made Diana's head jerk up. She sat there for a moment before realizing who her guests were. The young woman stood up and went to the door, opening it to reveal two people in long black coats. "Art," she said. "Storm. Come on in." She stepped aside to let the two in.

"When are we ever going to surprise you?" Art asked with an exaggerated sigh. "It's good to see you, Di. Have you changed your mind about coming with us yet?"

Diana shook her head and closed the door behind them. Storm lit up her flashlight, illuminating the barren walls and couch that consisted of Diana's only furnishings. "I'm sorry, I can't. Not yet."

Storm sighed. "Diana, the longer you stay around here, the more chance there is of—"

"I know," Diana interrupted. "But if I don't wait around, then they could get somebody else instead. I can't have that on my conscience, Storm."

Art sat down on Diana's couch, stroking his grizzled chin. His peculiar black eyes peered out at her from the eerie light of Storm's flashlight. "You'll have your own death on your conscience if you're not careful. Me and Storm can only do so much. Who was the kid you got to walk you home today?"

"Oh, Hal," Diana said. "He's harmless. I don't think United would attack me while I have a regular human with me."

"You're gambling with his life," Storm reminded her. "Tread carefully, or you may cost him dearly."

Art put his long, skinny legs up on the coffee table. His coat flapped back, revealing the pair of pistols he wore at his hips. "She knows what she's doing, Stormy. Don't question her." There was a slight mocking tone to his voice that Diana chose to ignore.

"Hal will be fine," Diana insisted. "And I'll find the other super soon. Then I'll go with you. Satisfied?"

Art stood up and stretched his freakishly long arms to the ceiling. "I am," he said. "C'mon, Storm. I want to get a hamburger."

Storm watched Diana carefully, her watery blue eyes concerned. "I hope you know what you're doing, Diana."

Diana forced a smile. "Of course I do, Storm. Goodnight, both of you. With any luck, by tomorrow, I'll have found what I'm looking for."

It was only after the couple had gone did Diana let her pessimistic thought into her head. She'd had no luck so far in finding what she was looking for. There seemed to be no reason for that to change.

. . . . . . . . . .

Long after Art and Storm had gone their way, a trio of people broke into Diana's house. There was no sound and no light—they felt their way through the house and up the stairs. Diana's bedroom was locked, but it was a simple matter to pick it silently and creep inside.

The girl was sleeping, on her side, breathing softly. As the trio approached her, she started twitching and mumbling under her breath. A tear escaped down her cheek. Moving swiftly as they realized she wouldn't wake, one of the men grabbed Diana and jabbed her arm with a needle. He pulled her out of the bed and held the unresisting girl in his arms. He motioned to the last member of their group. "You know what to do," he told her.

The android nodded and got into the bed, laying down with her eyes closed. The second man smirked mirthlessly. "Goodbye, Diana Crocious," he told her android lookalike.

Then, they took the real Diana from the room and out of the house.