As we both fell into the room simultaneously using both of our body weight to push the door open, Mr. Peters directed his attention to me then pointed it directly at Nine.

"Why is she bleeding?" His expression curious at the sight of spilled blood running off the wounds the spikes eagerly left.

"She got a little preoccupied," Nine responded back to him sweeping dark brown strands out of his eye's before crossing both of his muscular arms against his chest.

"Did you bring any on any unnecessary attention?." Mr. Peters furrowed his brows.

"What automatically makes you assume it was me? She-" I cut him off his blithering argument, drowsed with pain and confusion.

"How could you get him involved?" I positioned my line of sight to Mr. Peters before meeting Nine's perturbed smile. "Why would you get yourself involved?"

His smile lessened to a formidable smirk "You know why I got involved, Twenty." I couldn't help but look away at his answer.

"Wayward is gathering more children for escape," He was now packing aid from the cabinet into a navy blue duffle bag placed onto the laboratory stationery surrounding us.

"Weapon Nine was the first she told and word got back to me that he," his head nodded at him "insisted on helping us."

Just as he finished stuffing the last of the contents into the duffel bag the shrill alarm covering the noise from our conversation in the laboratory, had dissipated.

Mr. Peters threw the bag over his shoulder while signaling both of us to start moving, "It's time."

I faltered in my steps to the exit, fully administering the actions that are now going to take place. I was going to be outside permanently.

Nine took hold of my hand once again, matching his stride with Mr. Peters in front of us.

"This way." He said as he led us down a path I was unfamiliar with in the building. Once we reached the advised exists we have to pass on our way out to a mission, Nine released my hand and backed up a few steps.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my hand missing his absence, I replaced the few steps he took back with mine.

"He has to wait until Wayward can remove all of his level-" Mr. Peters tried to console behind me.

"He's already here with us," I cut him off looking to Nine. "Just come now."

My heart beat quickened and my palms turned clammy at the thought of having to face an unwanted goodbye. As a weapon we are not allowed to form attachments to anyone or anything, for that would sully our purpose as a creation only designed to kill.

I had previously realized my attachment to Nine was more than a shared conversation, or a quick stolen glance. That being the main reason I couldn't say goodbye to him in the first place, and I wasn't going to say goodbye now.

He came a little closer to me, peering his dark brown eye's into mine.

"If I leave with you, Twenty, all of my level will be terminated." He moved even closer to gently place each of his hands on the side of my face. The connection of both of our skin forces my quickened heart rate come to a complete stop.

I witnessed his realization of how absentminded his action was, before quickly releasing his gentle hold.

He furrows his brows, "I can't let that happen, but your chance is right now and you're going to leave." I felt the breath of his small voice brush upon our closeness.

Mr. Peters' hand was still settled on the button that kept the electronic mechanical doors open.

"Weapon Twenty, if we are to leave, come now." He now said with anticipation.

I turned my head to meet him and reverted it to meet my gaze back at Nine. "You better not say goodbye."

He gave me his quick smile and took a stride the opposite way from me "I won't." And like that he vanished around the corner of the hallway, back towards the inhabitant rooms.

I passed Mr. Peters through the doors with them releasing behind us.

"I have a vehicle towards the north of the level five building's." He was now directly in front of me leading through the side of the outside.

Our hastened pace was tried at the involuntarily noises of our quickened breath. Our view of the green vehicle was now in sight and I heard a beeping noise alert from the inside.

"How are we going to get passed the guarded gates?" I asked him while throwing my self into the passenger side of the vehicle.

"We're not," By now the car was in ignition as he slammed onto the gas making a sharp turn around the south side of the buildings "We're taking another route."

We sped through the obsolete training track's, where I was usually found riding thunderbird. I felt the crunching of the familiar gravel underneath the tires of the car.

The car took a drift into an underground opening, casing all of the elevation in the vehicle to lower.

"This is where we take you out for a mission, Wayward left it open for us." He said as I saw each light pass by over our head in the tunnel we were now in.

Silence was the only way I could respond to what he said. Deafening silence was the only way I could respond to being outside.

Once we had been on the road for forty six miles I had decided to speak for the first time now that I was free.

"How long do you think before they kill him?" I was subtlety surprised by the way I used the word kill instead of terminate.

"I disabled all of the security, Wayward turned it back on right after our leave. Straft knows very little of how...close you two are," He chose to to the word close instead of attached.

"I wouldn't have made it to the laboratory." I admitted honestly to him.

"Why?"

"Level ten guard's got me with the transmitter gloves."

"You should have easily escaped with the elite adrena-"

"I gave the adrenaline shot to...someone who need it more than I did."

He responded with a heavy sigh, knowing very well who I had given it to.

"I'm sorry that you had to see him before we left." He turned to fully look at me.

"I'm sorry too." Those three words were the only words I uttered in the next six hours of formidable silence I was about to endure on the road.

***

My head has been rested in the same position for what seems like ages now. A red volvo led the way in front of us on the freeway and a large eighteen wheel truck on the side.

"We should get something in out stomachs." He said over the quieted stillness.

The car swayed over to the lane leading out of the endless freeway. There were only a few buildings spread out half miles apart from each other. We stopped at the one with the large red lettering.

He took a glance at me for a brief second, then reached behind into the back seat of the car.

"Your wounds should be healed. Put this over to cover up the blood for now." He handed me a long thick wool sweater layered with a white chevron pattern. I pulled it over the soiled shirt of my sleeping uniform as he unlocked both of the doors to the vehicle.

Once we walked inside the large deserted room filled with table's and booths stacking against the floor, an elderly woman approached us from behind a door.

"Is it just you two?" she said not meeting eye contact with us.

"Yes, booth please." He told her as he began to follow her into the back of the building.

When we both were seated, "What can I start you off with?" She says still looking down at the notepad held in one hand with a pencil in the other; both inches away from her face.

"Two stacks of pancakes," He met eye contact with me, "And some coffee, please."

The woman turned around and headed back into the room she appeared from. 

He shifted his black framed glasses higher onto the bridge of his nose and leaned over to set both of his forearms onto the table. His white coloured shirt was disheveled along with his tinted grey hair.

She returned seconds later; desperately clinging onto a large formatted plate with the food placed on top.

"These were just waiting for y'all," she placed two plates of foreign looking golden discs and two cups filled with steaming black liquid. "I'll go get your coffee."

I stared at the substance in front of me while Mr. Peters grabbed two silver eating utensils wrapped into a white cloth, removing them and cutting away.

He reached over to the end of the table for a glass bottle filled with a thick clear brown liquid. "For your pancakes."

The woman carried over a larger glass container with more of the black liquid and placed it on our table along with a small plate of miniature white cups. "Here you go, sugar."

After she set them on the foot of the table he reached over to the opposite end and handed me four small white packets. "And your coffee."

Moments upon moments of silence fell upon us as we were both registering what we were doing, was in fact actually happening.

The two front doors opened at the other end of the room, letting a gust of wind rush in. It was man who walked in with a slight limp and a small child by his side.

They both chose to be seated at the higher table's, stretched all along the glass windows of the counter. The elder man lifted the child by her small waist and helped her climb onto the seat. It was an action too pure for my understanding; something I would have never thought to do.

"You hardly touched your pancakes, did you need more syrup or a refill for your coffee?"