⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀   ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀   ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

.*･｡. HOOD! .*･｡.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

001.
LET'S GO, LOXELY!
TO THE GROUND
WITH YA!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀   ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Robin Loxely was the daughter of Daniel Loxely.

   That didn't mean much on the ark, and it didn't mean much to Robin, either. In fact, she hardly cared about her father. He was a figment of the past; to Robin, he was some sort of distant memory.

   He hadn't visited.

   She had been locked up in the skybox for six months, and he'd yet to visit her once. It wasn't as if she had expected him to, seeing as her father was a man of great pride, and Robin imagined she'd ruined his life when word got out. In mecha, the Loxely's were one of the more respectable families. Daniel was a mechanic, Robin a shoo-in to follow in his footsteps, and he was friendly. Daniel had a sharp aversion to conflict, so when his own daughter was snatched up by the guard and convicted for being the hood that every station had been raring on about, Robin's best guess what that her father had hidden himself away in embarrassment — which, Robin was unable to blame him for. But he was still her father, and she hoped he would have still cared. Obviously, not.

   In a matter of weeks, Robin would be reviewed for her crimes; it was unlikely that she would be deemed worthy of life and, so, only a few hours into turning eighteen, she would be floated having not seen her father since the morning she was arrested. She would die, and he didn't even care.

   Robin was a smart girl. It wasn't unknown to her that no father wanted their daughter to be a bandit that was put on death-row.

   Most fathers dreamed of their child becoming something great, something to be proud of— not a delinquent. But, she supposed it couldn't have been much of a shock. Robin had always been quite reckless. Ever since she was a kid, the girl had been problematic; it started out with getting into silly fights, and calling alpha's kids lots of names that weren't to be repeated. She got into trouble, although it had never been bad enough to be arrested. Robin was ballsy and tough, but she had never been an avid rule-breaker.

   At least, not when she was Robin.

   Being the hood was a totally different story.

   The hood was perhaps one of the worst rule-breakers on the ark, with the exception of the past murderers that had graced the halls and committed terrible crimes. But, the hood was a serial thief — in a way, the council hated that more.

   That was mostly down to the fact that they had been the victims of those crimes. Not that the thief saw it, in that way.

    To the hood, the council deserved a target on their backs. Stealing from the rich was their thing, taking their goods and giving back to the poor people they exploited. It was purposeful; it was a statement.

   When news broke out that the hood had been caught, it took little time for it to travel from station to station. Talk travelled fast in the ark. There was no secrets within those walls, and, soon enough, the hood was the height of gossip. No one had expected the ark legend to ever be caught, and no one had expected their alter-ego to be a girl either — Robin thought it was pretty sexist, but she had no one to complain about that to.

   Well— Robin Loxely did have one person.

   John Murphy.

   Their reunion in the skybox had been anything but beautiful — a main factor being that they were waiting for death — although she had to admit it was nice to see him, again. Robin hadn't seen John since his arrest and, while they were never the best of friends, he'd been the closest she had ever gotten. His presence was comforting.

   In a strange, un-friendly way.

   Neither of them had been in solitary. It was good, but it was also bad for Robin Loxely. Because, from the moment she had been put in her cell, everyone knew who she was.

   She had been stripped of her hood, and every teenager locked in that skybox knew that she was the vigilante that had once helped a lot of them. Robin didn't like that they all knew. Nobody was meant to know.

   Why else did they think she always wore the damn hood?

   It got her a lot of stares during social hours, but with those stares came much respect.

   Then, it dwindled when she started hanging about with Murphy, who had gotten himself a reputation in the skybox. A bad one. But that didn't seem to dampen it, too much — she was still the hood, in there. The delinquents still saw her as an icon. Robin had been the hidden figure who had saved half their asses, and who had stuck up a middle finger to the council of assholes. Turns out, Robin Loxely stood for some good shit — shit that they all stood for. So, during a long six months in the skybox, Robin didn't have it bad. Perhaps the whispers were irritating, and the stares, but Robin was rather good at ignoring the majority of them. In social hours, her natural move was to tug her hood over her head and slouch in the corner. Robin may have been stripped of her hood metaphorically, but they had been decent enough to let her keep her literal one. She had gotten used to the comforts of her hood.

Robin felt lost, without it.

She wasn't particularly sentimental, nor was she one for getting attached, but her jacket and hood were her safety net. It made her feel brave, and fearless, and capable of anything. Her hood was an unforgettable symbol of her moral compass, too.

The leather jacket meant more to Robin Loxely than she would ever admit. As did her father. Robin would never tell anyone, but it hurt that he never visited.

Sighing, Robin wiped her teary cheeks.

   Head tilted back, the girl shut her eyes and took in a breath. Her hood slipped, pooling around her neck. Robin ignored the feeling.

   A moment of silence passed — until, suddenly, it wasn't so silent anymore. Rather, there was a hiss! of air as the door to her cell was opened, sliding to reveal three men. Robin quirked a brow. Two of the men were members of the guard, which wasn't that much of a surprise — sometimes they dropped in, uninvited — but the third... Robin Loxely really hadn't expected to see the third of the men.

    "Sinclair?"

    "Loxely," the man addressed. "Good to see ya, kid."

   She quickly stood from her cot and moved towards him, but her movement made the guards step forward. Sinclair raised a hand at them, a signal to not intervene, and with a moments hesitation, the men inched backwards.

   With a second look at them, a secret conversation, the members of the guard retreated to the door.

    "Two minutes, Sinclair."

    "Thanks, Scott."

   As soon as the men had left her cell, Sinclair moved towards the girl. His eyes darted towards the door briefly, staring it down, and he pursed his lips, eventually taking her by the biceps and shuffling them into a more secluded corner by the wall. It was only a fraction more secluded, but he figured it was better than nothing. If he was lucky, and if the men knew what was good for them, no one would be listening.

"Looking good, kid." He muttered, taking in her appearance. It hadn't changed, much. Her hair was longer and she was thinner, a result of small meals, but she was holding up well.

"What are you doing, here?" Robin asked.

"I've got news," Sinclair said.

    "And...?" Her furrowed, she awaited said news. He stayed quiet, figuring how to word it, and Robin twitched impatiently; "Well?"

    "You're going to earth."

   Robin nearly toppled right over. Her breath was stolen, and her heart slowed to a dangerously low pace. Another silence lingered in the air between them, thick and stuffy, and Sinclair watched the blood leave her face as her cheeks turned pale. He said nothing.

    "Wait, a damn minute— I'm going, where?"

    He looked back down at her and it was then that she found out he was being serious. There was no humour in his eyes, no fun in between the fiery blaze in his pupils. Sure, Sinclair had never been the funniest guy around, but he knew how to poke fun at the teens he trained to be engineers. Sometimes they'd laugh while working, usually thanks to Wick and his inability to shut up, but Sinclair did his best to keep his apprentices concentrated. He only took on kids with potential. Hard workers. It had occurred to him that Loxely's kid had talent when be watched her pull apart a keyboard and put it back together. For fun.

When she was eight.

Sinclair had seen past Robin for more than the daughter of his fellow mechanic and friend; while her father pushed her towards engineering, Sinclair could see there was more to it, than that; she was good at it. Very good, actually. She was smart, and as hard of a worker as her father, and was an asset to his team of apprentices.

They were close. Closer than she was to her own father, in some ways. Sinclair had been her mentor, the man she had worked with for a year, a family friend; she knew when he was being serious, by now. And now was one of those times — Sinclair was being totally, completely and utterly serious. More serious than the time Monty Green nearly set fire to all of Go-Sci station.

"You can't be serious..."

"Loxely—"

"Are you crazy?" She hissed at him, between her teeth.

Sinclair heaved a sigh and took a hand away from her arm, the limb coming up to hold the bridge of his nose; "This whole ark is crazy, Lox!"

"Yeah— and you're joining them!" Robin snapped, her face now contorted with disbelief rather than confusion. He was smart, and maybe the smartest man she knew, so why was he suddenly acting like his brain had been circuit-fried?

"You don't get it," he groaned. "You don't know even the half of it, Robin!"

"Then, tell me!" Her voice was firm and strong, "Tell me what I don't understand! Because I am not believing for a second that I'm going to earth, Sinclair! I'm getting floated because I'm eighteen in two weeks! I'm not going to earth! Did you forget I committed a serial offence? Did you all forget, what I did? Jaha isn't gonna send me to the ground; no— he's gonna throw me in an air hanger, and then he's gonna send me out to space!" The story was intense, more than was necessary, but her point still stood. "Tell me—"

"They're seeing a hundred kids to the ground!"

Robin stopped, "What?"

"Life support is failing," he gave in.

"But, you said it was fine. When my father told you that oxygen levels looked low in mecha, you said it was all fine..." her eyebrows cinched at the middle. "You lied to him, Sinclair! You said that—"

"Jake Griffin was floated because he noticed the flaw months ago, and he wanted to tell the people!" Sinclair cut her off snappily, "I didn't wanna see the same thing happen to your father, kid! There was no way I was gonna let Daniel expose that, okay? Of course, I lied to you! Jake Griffin was floated!"

She blinked.

Everyone knew about Jake Griffin. He was a great guy, and just as great an engineer. Everyone knew that he had been floated, too.

They had all been told that it was for treason; whatever he had done had been punishable by death, but that was the extent of it; at least, the extent of what had found its way to the skybox. News travelled fast. Robin wasn't ever sure what Jake Griffin could have drone; the Griffin's were a prestigious family on the ark, known for being good. She always figured it was something bad, bad enough for his own wife to float him alongside the council, though Robin hadn't expected it to be down to the fact Jake wanted to tell the ark that the life support was failing and they were quickly running out of oxygen. The council wanted it a secret, and Jake was willing to die telling everyone the truth.

Shit.

"Life support is failing, and pretty soon, we'll have no means of survival up here." Sinclair told her, calmer and more himself. "So, they've devised a plan: send all delinquents in the skybox to earth, to see if its habitable. Then, they want us to follow."

"But, the ground isn't supposed to be habitable for, like— over another hundred years!"

Robin had paid attention in classes. She knew all about the risk of radiation that smothered the earth. It was why they had left and why they couldn't go back, yet.

Earth was toxic — they all knew that.

"Oxygen won't last a hundred years," Sinclair said. "The longer we stay, the less time we have. They want to send all you kids down first, see if you can survive down there." He fumbled through both his pockets, glancing to assure no one had returned, quickly fishing out the item he was looking for. "Look at these,"

Robin caught it when he tossed it to her, doing as told.

"Wristbands?" She frowned down at the item, manoeuvring it, analysing the metal for every inch of its worth.

"To monitor your vitals," he nodded. "They got engineering to make a hundred of 'em. The council's gonna use 'em to see if the radiation has any effects on you, and see if all of us following will be a mistake; some think it'll kill us, quicker." He told her, rapidly.

"They're using us as guinea-pigs?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck..." she murmured.

"So far, there are a hundred kids in the skybox." Sinclair sent a grave look her way, "One for every year until earth's habitable; all of you are being put onto a dropship, and the plan is to follow you down — if we last, that long..." he gnawed on the inside his lip. It was all information that he shouldn't have been telling her, but she was going to find out, sooner or later. "It's old, really old. Almost as old as the last ever grounder, was."

"Is that gonna even get us to earth?" Robin doubted it.

"It'll be a bumpy landing—" he didn't sugarcoat the facts, as he turned back to her. "—in a dropship with that kinda technology, it will be messy, but you should make it. That dropship is well over a hundred years old. There's a big chance you'll make it down there, but if the radiation doesn't kill you, then that kinda impact... Lox, that kinda impact might. When the dropship hits, the impact could hypothetically tear the whole thing apart. It's not equipped for any drop that big," he explained. "A couple of us guys have worked on it, and it's not looking too great. No one had seen tech like that, in years. Half of it'll be fried."

"So— we could die, anyway?" Her breath caught when he gave her a nod. She stewed in his words, then frowned. "It's old? But if no one recognises it, we won't be able to use it for supplies." Robin argued with him.

"No radios, no comms, no weapons."

    "Nothing to help us survive," Robin summarised.

"Lucky for everyone else, you have seen that kinda tech." As the words passed his lips, her head shot up. "You remember that scrap we looked at, on K-Deck?" She nodded at him, "It's similar. Not the same, but it's close. Monty knows his way around some older parts, but he didn't stick around long enough to know as much as I could have taught him."

"Monty's smart," Robin told him — which, was true. She knew Monty from work, and she knew he had a big brain. They weren't close. He had been arrested before he could put that big brain he had to proper use, and before she had gotten to know him, but she knew he was another kid in the skybox.

"Yeah— but he's not experienced."

Robin didn't say anything.

"Those kids need someone down there, someone who has some knowledge on old parts. Someone who's able to make radios, and weapons; who can manipulate metal and uses worthless scraps for better." Sinclair glanced over at her, a certain look within his eyes; it was one she had never seen on him until now, but she knew what it meant. She already figured it out. "They'll be damn defenceless, without any help..." he pursed his lips. "They'll be good as dead."

"So, what? I'm a babysitter, now?" She battled his words, face holding an incredulous expression. Robin's stomach turned as a wave of anxiety hit her.

"Maybe."

"What do you want me to do? Bring along a freakin' blowtorch?" Her tone was low and dangerous. Robin wasn't dumb — she knew that the help they needed wasn't in the form of her. She was still an apprentice. Robin was young, and learning, but she also knew that there was nobody else who came close. Sinclair couldn't exactly go with them, could he? He too old to sneak onto the dropship, and it would be committing a crime that would get him a formal booking to be floated, and being chief engineer also meant that the council would notice his absence. He couldn't just go to earth. No one else knew about this plan, it seemed, so they were strapped for ideas. It was down to Robin Loxely to play mechanic, or nothing. Down on earth, she had to step up her game.

"What if I can't help?"

"Of course, you can. You're smart, kid."

"What if I can't?"

     Silence, "Those kids need you, Robin. You'll have to learn."

Robin mulled over his words. He was right — as always. Sinclair was often right. Especially when it came to Robin Loxely. He had known she was talented, an engineer in the making, just as he had known there was more to her than met the eye. More than the hood and more than a poor girl from mecha. Robin was a force, and she was smart.

Smarter than most kids, he came across. She was braved, too. It was obvious in her guts to steal from the wealthy, and she had one of the levelest heads on her shoulders. Robin knew what she stood for, and was stubborn with it.

Robin wouldn't let any of those kids die.

"What about my dad?" Her eyes grew glassy, "Does he know?"

Sadly, he nodded.

"He never came..." sucking in deeply, the girl tried to prevent a tear that had gathered in the corner of her eye. Her hands shook at her sides, "...do I not mean anything, to him?"

"You do."

"Gotta funny way of showing it, huh?"

Unsure of what else to say to that, Sinclair took her shoulders in his hands, again; "Your father is willing to send you down there if it means you might survive," he defended. "And, so am I. Because I care about you, kid. You going down there gives you more chance of living a life, than staying up here and running out of oxygen in six months."

"We're really going?" Robin breathed out, slowly.

"Yes," he smiled, small.

"Okay."

Sinclair took the wristband from her hands, and things seemed to pick up pace again.

His head snapped towards the door of her cell as a riot occurred in the skybox; one hundred teenagers were being dragged into the halls, out of their rooms, with guards holding their arms. Robin let her stare follow his, and her eyes widened. Some teens were willing to go, others were fighting against it. Chaos.

"We don't have long," Sinclair announced.
   
"When you get on there, you'll be strapped in. You can undo it at any point, but you gotta be careful— anti-gravity is fun until the ship hits a sudden stop," he informed, grabbing her left wrist. The wristband was secured around her skin with a snap! and Robin had to try hard to hide her wince. Son of a bitch... she rubbed at the sore area, peering down at the red skin. Robin seemed bothered by the item. Sinclair noticed, but it wasn't anything to comment on. "It's gonna be turbulent."

"Why would I get up?" She frowned.

"'Cause there'll be a mother board; if the boosters don't kick in, it's gonna be your job to find it and solve any issues. It should work, but old tech is unreliable."

"Right," Robin nodded.

"There's enough to scavenge for parts, make some weapons and maybe even some radioes." Sinclair explained, "If it stays in tact."

"If it doesn't?"

"Natural tinkerer; you'll work something out."

   It didn't make her feel much better, but it worked a little. Enough for her to put on a straight face when the two guards returned, let themselves in, and stood either side of her. She shot them both the same dirty look when they gripped her elbows too tightly. Assholes!

    "I'll see you soon, Robin— okay?" Sinclair called out as Robin was dragged from her cell.

   He followed them down the hall as far as he could, watching her figure disappear into the crowd of teenage delinquents. Before the man knew it, she was completely gone.

   Robin Loxely was off to earth, for a whole new life to the one she had been living for the last seventeen years. Sinclair wondered why he wasn't concerned — if anything, he was more concerned about earth. Robin was a force; she was a tidal wave, a small girl with the biggest opinions, and she wasn't someone to mess with. Robin was stronger than she looked; she had stolen from the rich to give back to the poor for years, only having gotten caught at last minute. The council had tried to find her for longer than they wanted to admit, expecting a classic criminal, but instead they had found Robin. At one point, the ark had feared her power. She had been a threat, an uprising threat against their capitalist society, because Robin was a person of the people. On earth, she would be with her people. She would rise, again.

   Robin Loxely would give the ground hell, because she could. She would give them all that she could — because she was more than a girl from mecha, daughter of a mechanic. Robin was a person for the people.

   She would speak and they would listen to her.

   Because Robin Loxely was the hood.

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀   ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀