Zip drummed his fingers against the library desk. The librarians were letting him use their phone to make his call. He didn't say who he was calling.

"Terrance Willker, President of the United States. How can I help you?" A guy's voice said on the other end of the line.

Zip let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God. I wasn't sure you'd pick up and I didn't want to risk calling the White House directly."

Terrance's voice grew apprehensive. "Who is this?"

"Zephyr Woods," Zip said smoothly. "I'm sure you've heard of me. I'm very close with the type four ghosts England us deciding what to do with."

The apprehension partially left Terrance's voice, but he still sounded suspicious. "Ah, yes. What can I do for you, Mr. Woods?"

"Please, call me Zip. And I need to get three type four ghosts, a young boy, and myself to America. Preferably to a position where obtaining citizenship is reasonably easy."

There was silence for almost a minute. Zip started to worry that the connection had dropped when Terrance finally responded. "You're asking for asylum?"

"If that's what it's called when you ask a country leader for protection from death then yes, that's exactly what I'm asking for."

Another long pause, then a sigh. "Alright, let's talk about what I can do for you."

Over an hour later, Zip was leaving the librarians with their questions and running toward home. People barely gave him a second look, despite his clearly agent appearance.

He skidded to a stop across the street from the house he shared with Reed. He was about to cross when he saw an unfamiliar car parked outside. After standing there for a second, a group of Fittes agents shoved Reed out the door. To Reed's credit, he walked as though his hands weren't cuffed behind his back.

One of the agents popped the trunk and the others pushed Reed toward it. Reed's eyes swept the street. He resisted his captors when he saw Zip. He shook his head ever so slightly and mouthed something.

Leave me?

Zip took half a step forward, then stopped and stepped back again. He dipped his head, hoping Reed saw that he understood. He grimaced as one of the agents punched Reed hard in the side and shoved him into the trunk.

Zip lowered his head and slipped into a dark space between two houses. Stupid. Stupid. Why didn't you make Reed come with you? This meant a decision had been reached about what to do with the type fours.

Seeing as Zip had been witness to Reed's arrest, it couldn't be a good sign. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He couldn't do anything without making the target that was surely already on his back larger. He couldn't let that happen.

Not when Venn, Brielle, and Giovanni didn't know what was happening. He held valuable information inside his skull. He couldn't put that at risk.

Zip knew that pretty soon, DEPRAC would be coming to clear the house. He needed to get as much out that could help them as he could. After glancing around, he dashed across the street and inside the house.

Zip stood in front of the glass looking down as the furnace roared to life. The giant iron room stretched below him. Flames licked at the supports of the walkway. He had purposely arrived early to be near the window.

Maybe it was a bit sick, but Zip couldn't bring himself to not watch Reed's execution. The pen that had been locked in the protective pillar in the basement was in Zip's pocket.

Reporters started to gather. Andrea was one of the first to arrive. She stood at the window near Zip. Zip pulled his hood further over his face. He was a wanted man now, he couldn't have a reporter recognizing him.

The observation room was packed in no time at all. The buzz of mindless chatter filled the room. Zip stayed silent among it all. He kept his right hand at his belt where, underneath his hoodie, his silver knife was concealed.

Below them, the doors to the furnace opened. Three men escorted Reed into the heat. Zip caught a glimpse of Reed standing tall just outside the door for a moment before the heat hit. As soon as they were through the door, he saw the change. Reed hunched slightly, his feet dragged tiredly. The observation room fell silent.

Zip cringed when Reed collapsed half way to the end of the walkway. The man at Reed's right pulled him up under the shoulders as if he weren't leading Reed to his death. Zip could tell that man didn't want Reed to die.

Reed was deposited near the end of the walkway. He knelt there, shaking slightly. Zip doubted he realized he was shaking. He looked up at the observation box, his eyes amber pits of fear.

Zip met Reed's eyes, reaching up and pressing his left hand to the glass. I'm so, so sorry. I should have been faster. Reed's gaze flashed to confusion for a second before the fear overtook him again. He looked away.

Zip kept watching Reed, ignoring the Fittes agent's speech on the dangerous type four. Reed's eyes eventually found their way back to Zip. The two watched each other, neither really trying to send any kind of message to the other.

Reed's eyes were pulled away when the Fittes agent yanked him up. The two exchanged words, and the agent gave Reed a harsh shove.

Zip turned away, squeezing the hilt of his dagger tightly as he pushed through the reporters. He kept his head down as he hurried through the halls toward the exit. The pen in his pocket grew unnaturally cold.

The icy cold made Zip's steps falter for a second before he continued on. He was just about to push open the door when someone put a hand on his shoulder. He froze and turned around slowly.

The man from the furnace who had held Reed up rather than just dragging him along stood there. He held Zip's shoulder tightly. Zip's grip on his dagger tightened.

"I recognize you," the man said. "You're Zephyr right?"

Zip glanced around then, seeing they were mostly alone, stepped in close and whipped his dagger up to press under the older man's chin. He glared coldly. "What's it to you?" he growled. "You led one of the people I consider family to his death."

"I wish I hadn't needed to. He seemed like a very good man," the man removed his hand from Zip's shoulder but otherwise held still. "My name is Semaj Senkrad. I want to help you."

Zip glared suspiciously. His knife dug in a bit more, making Semaj wince. "How do I know I trust you?"

Semaj shrugged. "You don't."

Zip stood there for a moment. He made a frustrated sound and jerked the dagger away. He didn't reply, just turned and stormed out the door.