Strong [Private]

[Soleil Overland]

Cress cursed under her breath, kneeling beneath a tree and tearing a strip off one of the extra shirts she'd bought shortly after she ran. Blood was pouring down her leg from a large cut on her outer thigh, and to be honest, she wasn't entirely sure where the cut had come from. She supposed she must have snagged it on a branch or something when she'd been running earlier that day, but couldn't say for sure. Either way, it was bad, and she probably shouldn't leave it exposed for any longer. The last thing she needed was for it to get infected, so she tied the strip of fabric tightly around the wound, wrapping it around her leg a few times before securing it. It was a shame that she'd had to use a piece of one of her new shirts, though. Considering the only clothes the people at the facility gave them were faded green tunics, she hadn't had much, and was afraid of how much she'd stand out in it compared to the way other teenagers she saw dressed. Thankfully, some vintage clothing store had been ecstatic about the tunics for whatever reason, so she'd sold them, and bought herself new clothes and food. Admittedly, she still didn't blend in as much as she wanted to, but she had to buy the cheapest articles of clothing she could find, so they tended to be odd and somewhat mismatched. Not that she particularly cared what she looked like. If she had, maybe she would have invested in a hair brush.


With a small sigh, the girl got to her feet, frowning at the sight of the blood on her hands before wiping them absentmindedly on the stomach of her shirt and leaving scarlet smears where she'd touched the fabric. She tightened the messy ponytail she'd drawn her hair back into, hefted her bag up over her shoulder, and continued her trek through the woods. After about fifteen minutes, however, the peace of the silent late night walk was interrupted by a loud thud somewhere to her left. Cress froze, listening carefully, eyes growing wide at the distant sound of footsteps. Without a second thought, Cress took off into the night, heart pounding in her chest. It hurt to breathe and fear was clouding her judgement. She'd come this far, hadn't she? She couldn't let them bring her back. Not now, not ever. She had no way to know for sure that whoever was pursuing her were the people she had originally ran away from, but she didn't plan on taking the risk that came with finding out. If she stopped to see, and it was them, then she may as well resign herself to a premature death. It was barely an exaggeration, unfortunately, so bad was the punishment she was sure they had planned for her if she ever came back to the facility. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes at the thought, and Cress resisted the urge to pinch herself. God, don't cry again, Cress.


Suddenly, the trees were gone and she was in the middle of the road, a car speeding towards her. Cress screamed and raised her arms to shield her head as she fell on her back trying to back away, but with a squeal of tires and a small crash, the car swerved into a ditch. Cress scrambled to her feet as a stranger climbed out of the car, pausing when his gaze fell on her. It was a man, quite a bit older than she was, and he seemed quite surprised to run into someone like her out here. She supposed that made sense, considering she was a scrawny ass teenage girl out in the middle of nowhere, alone with bruises and dried blood on her face. She looked as much like a runaway as she was, and that wasn't good. Depending on what type of person the man was, this could go very badly. If he was a very good person, he'd no doubt try to bring her to the police, and if he was a very bad person, well, he could try to do something that was far from moral. Of course, she was in no real danger. All it would take was one swift punch and he'd be sent across the street. Cress's gaze flickered to the man's car before looking back to him, twisting the strap of her bag anxiously.


"Sorry about the car," she said suddenly, voice high and tense. Feeling like she owed it to him a little bit, she brushed past him and walked over to the car, wrapping her fingers around the rear bumper. She took a deep breath and dragged the car backwards, pulling it out of the ditch with ease that, for anyone else, would have been unnatural. For Cress? A car was nothing. She could lift seven cars over her head with one hand, pulling one out of a ditch with both was nothing.

 

[FragmentedPhosphor]

Paul drove down the wooded road, his battered compact car rattling now and then as it his a pothole and the speedometer showing that he was, perhaps, speeding just above what the legal limit- if you counted thirty-three miles above the limit as within the range of that 'just', of course. Of course, he had a reason for going so fast, and hoped to hell there weren't any speed traps on this lonely, dark, forested section of the road- getting caught by the cops while trying to outrun a drug dealer he had double-crossed a while back would not only be ironic, but more than likely deadly. After all, he had a track record with the police more than a mile long by now, he was sure of it- and he had double-crossed, lied to, tricked, and otherwise outwitted so many crooked cops by now that if he ever did get arrested, there would be no way he would make it through the night.


It would be chalked up to another count of 'police brutality', or maybe they'd make up some phony story about me getting too aggressive... Either way, dead is dead, and it's one road-trip I'd rather not make yet.


His thoughts were grim, but brutally honest, and the man suppressed a sigh before shifting his gaze to the rearview mirror for a brief moment, to check for the telltale headlights of his pursuers, or the red-and-blue lights that signaled for him to go even faster. Seeing nothing, he turned his attention back to the road, satisfied that for now he had lost them-


Only to see a kid appear as if by magic out of nowhere, screaming- although he couldn't hear her, not with the car's constant noise- and falling onto her back, most likely in an attempt to not get run over. "Jesus fucking christ!" He exclaimed, slamming on his brakes and swerving so as not to hit the poor girl. He succeeded- but it was at a cost, and a pretty high one at that. His car went headfirst into a ditch; luckily enough, however, although the sudden stop of forwards motion caused him to almost slam his fact into the steering wheel, the hood was unwrinkled, so hopefully the engine and other important components of the car weren't too badly damaged not to function.


Split-second evaluation of his car done, the man climbed out of the car and made his way hurriedly to the street, determined to see whether or not he had driven his car into a ditch for nothing. Luckily the girl was alive- in fact, she was even standing, which was in Paul's opinion fucking fantastic. No dead bodies meant no extra case of vehicular manslaughter could be pinned to his name if they ever figured it out.


However, the more he looked at the kid he had almost run over, the more startled and worried he became to see her there. She looked like your typical runaway- which, admittedly, wasn't too rare. Cases of upset kids fleeing their parents happened all the time- but she was different. She looked... Thin. Mean. As if she had already seen too much in life, and was expecting someone- or something- to attack her at any second. She reminded him of himself far too much for comfort- but any continuation of that thought was cut off by her sudden words. Jesus. He thought. Even her voice makes her sound terrified... High and tense, the tone was something he had heard before- heard, and experienced coming out of his own mouth, as well.


By then she was brushing pat him to get to his car, and he turned to watch her, wondering what the hell she thought she was doing. Sure, the car was a compact, but it certainly wasn't light enough for someone as scrawny and as underfed as she looked to do anything about it. Hell, even he couldn't move it, not without--


If his thoughts had been cut off before by her actions, they were turned to mincemeat now as she dragged the car out of the ditch, looking for all the world like she was pulling a cardboard box instead of an entire steel-and-aluminum vehicle- and a modified one at that. He could only stare, slack-jawed, for a good twenty seconds before he could gather what was left of his mind back together, and even then it was only enough to mutter "How in the fuck...?"

 

[Soleil Overland]

Cress gave the car one final tug and heaved it out of the ditch, hearing but not yet responding to the man's murmur of shock. She looked at the car for a moment, then began to push hard against the side, turning it so it was facing the direction the man had been driving instead of barring off the street. Tucking a few loose of strands of hair behind her ear, the girl finally turned to face the stranger who had almost run over her, who was now gazing at her with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Self-consciously wrapping her jacket more firmly around herself to hide the blood that stained her shirt, Cress cleared her throat before replying to the man's earlier stunned question.


"I'm very strong," she stated in as calm of a tone as she could manage, keeping it short and simple. The man was intimidating, there was no denying that. There was a scar on his face and he positively towered over her, but despite his imposing figure, Cress wasn't afraid. It briefly crossed her mind that someone like her should be--a tiny teenage girl left alone in the middle of nowhere with a suspicious man--but what did she have to fear? He was no threat to her, not really. She had weapons, even if they were currently hidden, and even if she didn't, she could have easily snapped his arm if he did anything to try and harm her. She wasn't in danger. That did not mean, however, that she wasn't wary. People in general made her nervous, but she supposed that made sense, considering she'd only ever known one human being that was kind and good-hearted instead of cruel and violent. It was instinct to expect the worst. Besides, even if she hadn't seen him around the facility, he could have easily been some thug they hired to hunt her down. Based off his flabbergasted expression, she could assume that wasn't the case, but she had to be on her toes. Her paranoia had never steered her wrong, after all.


Whenever she heard the slightest sound while alone in the woods, it had been the paranoia that pushed her to take off, to run as if she had rabid lions snapping at her ankles, and she hadn't been caught yet, had she? Though it made sleep a little harder to come across and painted her dreams with gruesome images of what would happen if she was found, the paranoia was probably the reason she had survived until this point. Who knew what would have happened to her if she had been found snoozing, or off guard? She could defend herself, that was certain, but the doctors had created a drug that would essentially put her powers to rest for a time being so she could be subdued if she got out of hand, and she was sure they'd have some on them when--if--they found her. That damn drug was the whole reason Priska had been taken away in the first place. Sure, some of the blame could be placed on the fact that they snuck out and broke the biggest possible rule at the facility, but Cress could have stopped them from taking her if she'd been able to use her strength. But of course, when they'd found the two peacefully sitting beside each other on the beach, the first thing they'd done was drive a syringe into Cress's neck, all but tranquilizing her. She'd had to watch, barely able to move, as they were transported back to the facility, where they'd been bound by chains across from each other from a chamber in the basement. She could hear Priska crying, but hadn't had the strength to raise her head. Just when she'd started to wake from her half-asleep state, they'd come downstairs and taken Priska away. Cress hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.


It was a miracle she'd overheard them talking a few days later, she supposed. If she hadn't happened to have been listening in, she never would have learned where they brought her Priska. Even now, she wasn't entirely certain. All she knew for sure was that the facility was in Arizona, in the woods outside some small town. Of course, she'd set out the moment she got the chance, but Arizona was terribly far away, and Cress couldn't help but be afraid of what they could do to precious Priska in the time it took her to get there. Cress let out a tiny breath, gaze flickering to the car. So far away... Her eyes grew wide at the idea that passed through her mind, and all remorse about the fact that she'd almost made the man crash disappeared as she looked back to him, heart beating a little bit quicker.


"Listen, guy, I've got a proposition for you," she said sharply, sliding her hands into her pockets to hide the way they shook, "There's somewhere I really need to be. Problem is, it's a good few states away. Now, if you drive me to this place and don't tell anyone how you found me, I'll be super grateful and I promise I'll return the favor in any way I can. Now, if you won't drive me, I'll punch you across the street, take your keys, and drive myself. So you either gain a partner in crime--" If only she'd known how applicable to the situation the phrase really was. "--or you lose your car and everything in it. What'dya say?"

 

[FragmentedPhosphor]

Paul watched as the kid finished hauling the car up out of the ditch, then began to straighten it out, shoving against the vehicle as if it was nothing, surprise still very evident on his features as he tried to reason what he was seeing out. Okay, he thought, she's managed to move the car I can't budge without help all by her lonesome. Either I've walked into one of those comic books I stole when I was a kid, or something is drastically off with the world. After all, it wasn't like Paul was a weak man- decades of fleeing the law and duking it out with his fellow criminals made sure he stayed fit and strong. However, he still couldn't move that car without straining- and most likely breaking- something, and that would only accomplish a few inches of movement at best. There was no way for what she was doing to be possible- but there she was, done moving a car around with her bare hands and not even breaking into a sweat.


After he realised he couldn't possibly figure out how she could have moved the car with so little effort, when he himself had so little information, his mind accepted the fact and moved on. That did not mean he wasn't still startled by the girl's sudden show of strength- but he had the unique ability to adapt fairly easily to odd or unusual situations. After all, this wasn't the first time he had been in an odd scenario, although it was by far the strangest. With no other option than to accept what was happening and ponder the hows and whys of the situation at a later time- preferably when he wasn't standing in the middle of the street- he simply counted it as one of life's many inexplicable oddities and focused on the present situation at hand.


"I'm very strong." She said, as if that wasn't the understatement of the century, and Paul nodded, his expression a bit less gobsmacked, although it was clear he was still surprised by her actions. "I... I can see that." He said, expression and voice still stunned and bemused but quickly clearing up, back to his normal neutral expression. They both fell silent, pondering their own thoughts, and Paul was about to step away, back to his own car and his own normal, non-superhuman-strength-infused life when two girl spoke again.


By this time his expression was back to truly neutral, but a slight frown graced it at her words, which were clearly a threat. However, that at least helped him get fully back on stable ground- after all, he was used to being threatened by people stronger and more powerful than himself. That was his way of life- but that kid sure as hell has an odd way of showing gratitude.


He shifted his stance slightly, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking for all the world like he was considering her proposition as if it were an everyday suggestion, as opposed to a matter of life and death. And that truly was what her proposition was, for if he lost his car, there would be no way to escape his enemies, and he would be dead within a week. Everything he owned was in that car- his wallet, his guns, his false IDs and what drugs he hadn't been able to sell yet. Not only would she be stranding him without a chance for escape, but she would be doing so and taking any chance he might have had for recovering with him.


He briefly considered shooting her- he had his 9mm. holstered on his hip, and he was far enough away he could probably shoot her before she got to him. But... She was a kid, dammit, and he wouldn't be able to shoot a kid, even with how dangerous her proposition was.


Furthermore, he was already on the run. The idea of going somewhere far, far way from where he had been last seen was incredibly appealing- but with a teenage girl? He already looked intimidating enough to be pulled over for suspicions alone. How much worse would it be for him to be seen driving with a half-starved girl? Oh, no, I wouldn't look like a kidnapper at all. He thought sarcastically. I've already got enough shit going on- I don't need to be a suspected kidnapper, if nothing more.


But it wasn't like he had much choice. His car was his life, and without it he was dead. Plus, the girl might be of some use- if nothing else she could punch out someone if they confronted them while they were driving. So it wasn't all bad...


"Where?" He finally asked. That would be the deciding factor- there were several no-go states for him, and he would rather risk death than drive into those states.


After all, risking death wasn't as bad as certain death.

 

[Soleil Overland]

Cress squirmed as she waited for a response, watching the man's gaze wander the area as if he was pondering the decision. What was making the decision so hard? Perhaps she was just oblivious to some of the risks that he could be taking by picking her up because she'd been secluded from the world for so long and didn't know how it worked. Maybe there was some consequence she just couldn't see. All the same, as far as she was concerned, it was an easy decision to make. She'd be ditching him in the middle of nowhere without a way to reach the next town. She supposed he could walk, as she had been for days on end, but she wasn't sure how far away the town was. If it was far enough away, he could starve or die of dehydration before he reached civilization. Then again, odds were that he wasn't that far away from the next city, so the probability of that was low. There were some downsides to picking her up, but they weren't ones that the man would know of, and even then, the likeliness of such things occurring were exceptionally low. After all, she'd cut out the tracking chip. How were the supposed to find her now? As far as she could tell, she'd been doing well at leaving no trail behind. If the men hunting her were the only danger the man could face by taking her with him--and they would be very dangerous if they did happen to find them; Cress knew that those hunting her had thousands of ways to make a grown man shriek in agony and struggle to maintain their sanity--but the man didn't know that she was being pursued, then why was he taking so long to decide?


Cress let out a long breath and glanced around, absently beginning to trace the deep cut that now marked her right wrist. It was just barely beginning to heal over from when she'd sliced it open a week prior, ripping out the small piece of metal that would tell her pursuers her location. The vivid scarlet of the slow forming scab that was materializing over the incision stood out shockingly from the fair skin of the bottom half of her arm, only drawing more attention to both the scar itself and the pitch black bar code stamped onto the tender flesh of her wrist. She hated it, almost as much as she hated the people who burned it into her skin. It was that marking that had transformed her from a young girl to an object to be owned, a child to a piece of meat, a human to a freak of nature. Sometimes, she was tempted to cut off the top layer of skin, just to get it off, but she knew that wasn't wise if she wanted to survive and keep as much of her blood inside of her body as possible, and that was certainly a goal. It was then that the man spoke, jolting Cress out of her thoughts and she blinked a few times in surprise.


Where? It was a logical question, she supposed. Why would he let her hop in with no idea what her destination was or how far away it was? If it was far enough away, maybe he wouldn't want to drive her there. Maybe he didn't have the time. Oh well, no car for him, then. Would Cress feel bad stealing the car after the man had gone through such measures to avoid hitting her? Most definitely, but was that mild feeling of guilty worth letting Priska suffer in the months it would take her to get to the facility? Was it worth possibly finding herself unable to save Priska? It most certainly wasn't.


"Arizona," she answered urgently, opening the flap of her bag and pulling out a crumpled map, scanning it for a moment before finding the name of the town, "Tonopah, Arizona." Besides the map of the town, Cress had also managed to nab a map of the United States, the concept of which had been explained to her by Priska. (Having been brought into the institute when she was seven, mere weeks before she befriended Cress, she knew more about the outside world than any of them did, and taught Cress what she knew.) She'd just barely crossed over into Georgia, which meant she had to pass through at least six more states before she reached Arizona, one of which was the largest state in the entire country. Given how long it'd taken her to reach here, she feared that Priska could be deeply affected and hurt by the torture they'd no doubt put her through in the time it'd take her to reach Arizona. Cress's deepest fear was that she would arrive and it would be too late. She had nightmares almost every time she slept about reaching the other facility, only to find Priska dead. She always woke up screaming.

 

[FragmentedPhosphor]

"Arizona." She said, and Paul was silent for a few moments more, considering his own mental map of the U.S. before replying. Although he had failed geography at school, enough time on the road and a need to avoid certain states after a while had forced him to memorise the map, and although he couldn't name capitals he could remember where the states were in relation to one another.


Arizona, however... Arizona was good. He'd never stayed in Arizona for any amount of time, it was nice and far away from where he was now, and he certainly hadn't been to any Tonopah while he was there, so hopefully he would be just another face. Furthermore, aside from Louisiana- a trouble state for him- the path there was clear, with no particularly powerful enemies anywhere except in the trouble state, and he would be driving around that anyways, and to hell with the girl if she objected. Arizona was a good destination- after he dropped her off there, he could vanish. Maybe he'd drive back up to Oregon. It was a bit of a ride, sure, but the place was worth it, and rather lax on certain laws anyways, as long as he stayed in the boonies.


Decision made, he began to head back to his own car. "Come on." He called to the girl, his voice carefully flat and tone neutral, heading toward the driver seat. "Get in."


He knew what he sounded like- with his monosyllabic sentences and flat tone, he wouldn't exactly give off the impression of intelligence, and his appearance certainly didn't help matters much. Not that he cared, not really. The less intelligent she thought he was, the easier outwitting her would be if she decided to turn him in, or betray him, or one of the many other thousands of unsavoury things she could do to hurt him along the way- and Paul liked getting away easily. He also liked not getting threatened- but, for now at least, that was no longer an option. He had agreed to drive her, and while his word didn't exactly have a sterling reputation, it would benefit him as well, so as of yet he had no intention of breaking it.

 

[Soleil Overland]

While the man was distracted, gaze focused anywhere but on her, Cress took the opportunity to subtly pull the stolen handgun from her bag, tucking it into the waistline of her shorts. She could feel the cool metal against the small of her back even through the tank top and fought off a shiver as she adjusted her jacket to make sure it was hidden, wanting to be certain that she had easy access to it if she needed it. She bristled and automatically took a few steps forward as the man turned, heading back towards his car, and had just opened her mouth to call out a warning to him (only fair) when he began to speak. Relief flooding over her, Cress darted forward, pulling open the passenger's side door and climbing into the seat.


Leaning back and buckling herself in, she glanced over at the man once before deciding she was safe enough for now and reaching for her bag once more. She pulled out a small and simple journal, one that she'd nabbed from some small store simply because she could, and a pencil. Writing was very soothing, as she found. Writing down what had happened in the course of a day helped her keep track, and kept her sane. Besides, pretending she was writing to Priska gave her hope, made her optimistic that the girl was still alive, as if she was receiving and reading the letters. Whatever it took to stop herself from losing faith in her mission and giving up.


Hey, Pris. It's me again. Sorry I didn't write yesterday. I wanted to cover as much ground as possible, so I just kept walking. Running, actually, and I scratched my leg while doing it. There was blood everywhere--you would have had a fit, hehe! I'm fine now, though. Wrapped it up nice and tight to staunch the bleeding. It kept going for a while so it soaked through a bit, but hopefully it's stopped now. Can't really tell, and I don't want to take off the bandage to check. You'll never guess what happened. So, I was out in the road, and this guy almost runs me over, right? I did a bit of persuading--and threatening, but that's beside the point--and he's going to drive me to Arizona. I'm coming for you, Priska, and this way, I'll be there faster than I ever thought was possible. Love you bunches, Cress.


With the wound in mind, Cress glanced down at the makeshift bandage and sighed when she saw that it had gone from blue to scarlet, saturated with blood. It was going to start leaking out of the fabric if she wasn't careful. Grumbling irritably to herself, she stooped to reach into her bag again, putting the journal and pencil away and pulling out the shirt she'd tore a strip from earlier. Without sparing the stranger so much a glance, she tore off another section of the shirt, making this one wider, and wrapped it around her leg over the previous strip, tying it a little bit tighter.

 

[FragmentedPhosphor]

Paul climbed into the driver seat just a few moments before the girl- whose name he still didn't know, although admittedly he wasn't too keen on finding out unless she offered- darted in, pulling open the passenger door and setting herself into the seat as if she was afraid he would rev the engine and leave her. He supposed he could have done that, if he had been quick enough- but the idea hadn't come to him until after the girl was in the car, so he didn't bother thinking on it any further. What was done was done, and there was no use wasting time reminiscing about what could have been done. Looking back where he should be, he stuck the keys into the ignition and started the car. He still wasn't sure about all this, but so far there was nothing else he could do, other than drive her to where she needed to be.


Plus, so far the kid didn't seem to be too bad a company- sure, she had threatened him, but she certainly wasn't the first person to do so, and Paul doubted she would be the last. She was quiet, so far, only glancing to him once before pulling out some sort of journal. The motion caught his eyes, and he glanced over at her again, noticing in the interior lights of the car the slash on her wrist and the barcode. It seemed an odd tattoo to have- furthermore, a kid as young as she seemed to be shouldn't have a tattoo at all, much less one that looked like something on the back of one's groceries. After a moment he shifted the car into drive and focused on the road, dismissing the barcode as an edgy attempt at seeming cool, or some sort of political statement she'd gotten. He'd been in with enough fringe crowds to be truly bothered by it.


He had just started driving when he heard the ripping of fabric, and he spared a glance over to the girl yet again to see just what the hell she was doing. He caught sight of the scarlet fabric around her leg, and watched out of the corner of his eye as she tore a strip of fabric off a shirt she had pulled from her bag and wrapped it around her leg. His mind wandered again, this time to wonder where the origin of that wound was, and how she had gotten it- but after a moment he discarded that thought, too.


He didn't need to know how she had gotten the wound, or why she needed to get to Arizona, or why she had such an odd tattoo. His only job was to get her there- then he would be gone. It was certainly a hell of a drive to take with a stranger, but he didn't want to know more than he had to. Last thing he needed was to get attached to some scrawny kid- one with superpowers, no less. She was already trouble, he could tell, and the sooner they could get to Arizona the sooner he could be gone.


But first, he had to at east get her some proper medical supplies so she could deal with the wound. From the amount of blood in the fabric underneath her new makeshift bandage, he guessed it wouldn't be too long until she bled through that, too- and he didn't want her bleeding all over his car. If his situation was difficult to explain now, he could only think how much worse it could get if he was pulled over and she was bleeding through a makeshift bandage. Without taking his eyes off the road, he reached behind his seat with one hand and- after a couple moments of rummaging- found and pulled out his medical kit. It was a bulky white-and-red bag, and at the bottom of the bag 'Golden Oak Clinic' was written in with purple sharpie. Considering he had only recently stolen it- he had run through his other medical kit a couple weeks back, and had by pure luck found this one unguarded- he knew it should have most of what she needed to patch up her wound, and so he handed it to her without glancing over to her.


"Here." He said. "So you don't bleed all over my car."

 

[Soleil Overland]

Cress almost leaned forward to put the shirt back into her bag, but hesitated, instead just resting it in her lap, still clutched tight in her fists. She tilted her head back against the headrest, letting her eyes slip closed for just a moment and taking a deep breath. She really needed to take a minute and calm herself down a bit. Even now, in the warm and relatively safe car, away from the dangers that potentially lingered amongst the trees, her shoulders were tense and her heart was beating a little harder than it probably should have been. As beneficial as her paranoia could be, especially considering the life she led, it probably wasn't very good for her health wise. She was so anxious all the time, considered everyone to be an enemy no matter if she had evidence to support the belief or not. She started slightly, opening her eyes once more, at an unexpected weight in her lap, blinking at the bag before looking over at the driver, who she could assume handed it to her.


After he offered a curt explanation, she nodded a little to herself and turned to rummage through the bag. After locating disinfectant and bandages, she sat the bag on the floor between her feet and then paused, taking a moment to consider the situation. Should she fully replace the makeshift bandages, or just put this one over it? She supposed it would be better to just replace it, wouldn't it? With that thought in mind, she tucked the shirt under her leg so it would catch any blood that may run off her leg while she was in the process of replacing the bandage. She then peeled off both layers of cloth, revealing the long and still rapidly bleeding cut, not so much as cringing at the sight of it. She'd seen worse, after all. After cleaning off the blood that had been smeared around the cut with one of the strips of fabric, she wrapped it in the fresher strip and set them both aside. Taking a deep breath, she wiped the disinfecting towelette over the cut, biting the inside of her cheek at the sting that followed. Once she was content with the cut's cleanliness, she began to wind the bandage around it, looping it around a few times before securing it. It was a little tight, but she supposed that was good for staunching the bleeding. She set what was left of that particular roll of bandages back in the bag, as well as the disinfecting towelettes, and then twisted in her seat to set it in the backseat. That's taken care of.


Cress stared at the clump of bloody fabric in her hands before pulling the remainder of the shirt from beneath her leg, wrapping all of it in what was left of the shirt and tucking it in a side pouch on her bag, which she was now deciding to be the trash pouch. The girl shifted back in her seat, letting out a tiny breath and tilting her head back once more. When was the last time she'd slept? She wasn't sure, but it must have been some time ago, because it wasn't long before her eyes fluttered closed and she drifted off to a fitful sleep at least.


Cress ran through the trees, panting heavily and hearing her heartbeat thudding in her ears, her whole body almost seeming to shudder with each pound of it against her rib cage. She was so close. She just had to push herself a little further, and she'd be there. She'd be with Priska again. She burst out of the trees and there it was, the facility, standing right in front of her. Able to feel a grin pulling at her lips, Cress sprinted forward, tearing through the chain link fence that separated the mutants inside from the outside world. Ignoring the stream of cheering children that rushed past her, with their jewel bright eyes and various abnormalities, Cress ran for the door that would bring her into the facility, breaking through and looking around. The room was empty save for a single operating table, a familiar girl strapped down on top of it. Cress's heart beat faster and she ran forward, frantically undoing the straps.


"I got you, Pris, I got you," she whispered anxiously, hands shaking as she freed the girl's wrists, "Pris? Come on, look at me, I'm here now! I saved you! Get up, we gotta go!" Priska didn't move, hollow eyes gazing emptily at the ceiling and blood coating her throat (had it been slit when Cress arrived?). "...No," Cress whispered, eyes wide, "No, no, Pris, you--you can't die! I'm here now, see? I came for you!" There was no response. "You're not dead, you'll be okay, don't worry! Here, I'll--I'll carry you, okay?" Cress told the lifeless girl, voice strained from holding back tears, and moved forward to lift her. Before she could, Priska's head turned to look at her, making Cress yelp as blood began to dribble from Priska's lips. "Pris--!"


"You abandoned me," Priska rasped, cuts beginning to appear all over her body, "You let them take me. You let them hurt me."


"No, no, I didn't! I came for you, I'm here now!" Cress protested desperately, but Priska merely tilted her head, eyes rolling back as blood began to pour from them as well.


"Too late."


Cress sat straight up with a sharp gasp, panting heavily and looking around to verify her surroundings. She was in a car. Priska wasn't dead yet, as far as she knew. Her breath shaking, Cress reached to wipe her eyes with the heel of her hand, glancing out the window before looking at the clock imbedded in the dashboard. It seemed she'd been sleeping for about three hours. She looked briefly at the driver, then shifted so she was angled away from him, hiding the tears that had welled in her eyes. "I hate bad dreams," she muttered, half to provide some sort of explanation for why she woke up in a blind panic and half to reassure herself that that was all it had been: a bad dream.

 

[FragmentedPhosphor]

Paul simply drove, doing his best not to watch as the kid patched herself up, then set the bag back in the backseat where it belonged. He didn't need to see the nasty cut in her leg, and how shoddily it had been bandaged before he had handed her proper medical supplies. He didn't need to see her dump the bloody strip if fabric into the rest of the shirt, then dump that in turn into a side pocket on her backpack that he guessed was a trash pocket. He didn't need to see her shift back in her seat, and he didn't need to see her fall asleep. Like he had thought before, the less he observed the kid, the less her knew about her, the less chance he would have to care. And he couldn't afford to care about this scrawny runaway he had almost run over- as much for her sake as his. He didn't want to bring any of his own problems into her life- a life clearly already rife with problems of her own, problems he had a feeling he didn't want to meet up with.


No, the less he cared about the kid, the better it would be for both of them.


And so he drove, staring stoically out the windshield of his car for three hours while the kid besides him slept. He would have preferred to have the radio on, as driving in silence was maddeningly monotonous after a while- but the kid looked like she needed sleep, and last thing he wanted was to wake up a superpowered teen when se needed her sleep. Fear was just as much a factor as common courtesy in staying his hand from touching the radio. He had just passed the sign claiming they were entering Warm Springs, Georgia- although he had yet to see something other than trees- when the girl awoke, jerking upright suddenly with a gasp. He afforded her a glance instinctively, but his attention didn't waver for long, and he was back paying attention the road after only a moment of looking at the kid.


She didn't look like she needed any interference from him.


He made no comment in response to hers, driving through tree-lined roads for a moment longer before the treeline began to thin, showing a house every now and again. Soon enough the density of the buildings thickened, and after another few moments of driving they were in the town proper. Normally Paul would have tried to avoid towns altogether, especially considering the kid in the passenger seat next to him, and the fact she already seemed like she was just as on-edge as he always was, but his stomach had growled while the kid had been sleeping, reminding him he needed food to survive. The last meal he had had was yesterday's breakfast, and he figured he might as well use the drive-through of one of the fast food restaurants to get a couple burgers for himself, maybe a drink- and something for the kid, too, if she wanted anything. He wasn't cruel enough to eat in front of her without asking if she needed food, not while she was still on his good side- although admittedly there was a very fine line there that she was fairly close to.


She did threaten to steal his car, after all.


Luckily he didn't drive by any police stations on his way towards the nearest Burger King- only because the restaurant was closest, as opposed to any personal preference. He glanced over to her as he pulled into the drive-through. "Want anything?" He offered, gesturing towards the menu with one hand.

 

[Soleil Overland]

As time passed and the images the dream had pasted to the inside of her eyelids grew fainter, Cress managed to calm herself to some degree, resting her chin in her hand and staring out the window. Watching the trees speed past was almost hypnotizing, and they seemed much less threatening from the inside of the car. Had it really been those branches that had seemed to try and grab her just a few hours earlier, tearing at her clothes and whatever exposed skin they could find? They seemed so docile now. Perhaps they were shapeshifters, and the monstrous parts of them only came out when there was something to terrorize. Some poor soul lost among the shadows they cast. A tiny grin quirked at Cress's lips at the thought. Her thoughts took her to strange places when she was tired, it seemed. Priska had always said such, giggling about Cress's strange and unfathomable mind in the grey hours of morning, exhaustion from a sleepless night hanging over both of them and making them loopy.


But now wasn't the time to think about her. Not when she'd just watched the girl be slayed in her dreams. In the bright light of day, days with blue skies that Priska would always claim to be good days even if all the days before it had been awful--she had a way of always seeing the good before the bad, in days, in situations, in people--Cress could pretend that everything was fine. She could pretend that Priska was a few feet ahead of her, scanning a nonexistent fence for a gap they could use to sneak into the carnival, or a few feet behind, rinsing her face in the stream Cress had been hoping to find during the days she trekked through the woods. At night, that was when the doubt crept in. (Was it even night anymore? Cress wasn't sure, but it was dark out, so for now, she was just assuming.) Even writing the letter had been a bit of a stretch. Under the blanket of night was when all the bad things happened. It was during the night that they'd dragged her away despite the way she cried and pleaded, forcing her into some truck in the driveway and strapping her up so she could struggle. Bastards.


Unfortunately, it seemed that now that her mind was on this dangerous track, Cress wasn't able to get off it. Priska was on her mind, and she wasn't leaving. Cress had never understood why Priska had chosen her out of all the other people she could have been friend with, because really, Priska could have slid into any of the groups that had formed among the patients and fit seamlessly into that clique's ranks. She could have buddied up with Narcissa and Opal, the former gifted with telepathy while the latter possessed the ability to shift her appearance at will, and then they would have been Narcissa and Opal and Priska. Or perhaps just Narcissa and Priska, because it would be just like Narcissa to kick Opal to the curb when someone cooler came around, and Priska was definitely cooler than Opal. Fortunately for Opal, who followed Narcissa like a lost puppy, no one had. Priska could have fallen into the arms of that lion boy, Hett, who always had eyes for her, or could have devoted all of her time to Natty, a younger girl with flaming hair and a warm touch that positively idolized her. But no, Priska had chosen Cress. Priska had chosen the bruised little misfit with a hair trigger temper and enough hate built up in her tiny form to engulf the whole world. Why had someone so pure and perfect selected someone as tainted and bitter as Cress, when she could have befriended anyone else in the entire facility? The question troubled Cress almost constantly. Priska had gotten her through so much, had been her emotional crutch and her best friend when she had no one else, but what had Priska gotten out of their friendship? A few extra scars, a negative connotation to her name and a one way ticket to a facility on the other side of the country? It hardly seemed worth it. How on earth would a bond with a girl who was as likely to lash out in fury as she was to offer a hug out of love ever be worth the torment Cress was sure was waiting for Priska in Arizona?


The man's voice drew her out of her thoughts and she blinked a few times. When had the trees turned into buildings? She turned to him and stared at the menu, eyes a little wider than normal. None of the words were familiar, so what on earth was she supposed to say? Even if she had been taught to read, there was no reason that she'd have been taught these particular words--french fries! Those were familiar! Priska had pointed them out to her on a billboard while they were at the fair, sweet talking the young man behind the counter into giving them some for free. Cress didn't know much about money, but she knew her numbers, and considering the number two was emblazoned next to the french fries on the list, she could assume they were cheap enough. "Um, could--could I have some french fries?" she requested uncertainly, nervously twisting the hem of her tank top.

 

[FragmentedPhosphor]

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Just fries?" He asked, then shrugged before the kid could reply and turned is attention to the drive-through's ordering station and rolled down his window. If the kid wanted fries, he'd get her fries- but he didn't fancy stopping any more than necessary, either, so he would get her something that would last a bit longer, as well, just in case she got hungry within the next ten hours or so. He knew he would have to sleep, after that- he had already been driving for about six and a half hours, and although he could usually keep himself up for a full forty-eight if he absolutely had to, he would greatly prefer to pull into the parking lot of a motel and sleep it off- whether in the motel or the parking lot, it didn't really matter.


A chipper teen's voice, doused with the static of the speakers, welcomed him to Burger King and asked for his order. After a moment more of glancing at the menu, he spoke, knowing that he couldn't buy much. After all, he only had about fifty dollars in his wallet, and although that would at least get him food for the next couple of stops, he knew he would have to get some more cash soon if he wanted to keep his car running.


"I'd like two double whopper meals and a large order of fries, please." He said, eyes glancing to his rearview mirror completely out of habit while the teen punched his order in. "What size for the meals?" She asked after a moment, and Paul obliged her with a "Large." before falling silent once again. Then the drinks were requested, and Paul glanced again to the girl before deciding that root beer would be good enough for both of them, and replying thusly. If the kid didn't like her drink, there was half a 35-pack of water bottles in the back, and she could use one of those, instead. After being told his total Paul pulled forwards to the window, where he handed around the right amount of cash to the person in the window. There was brief wait- then the bag of food was handed to Paul, who in turn handed it off to the kid.


"Here, hold this." He said, passing the bag to her so he could grab the drinks, and set them in the two cupholders in the front seat. Then they pulled away from the fast-food joint, and without pause were on the road again. Paul ignored the scent of the fast food, although his stomach was dangerously close to grumbling in complaint- he would have plenty of time to eat once he pulled up to the gas station they were heading towards, after he put some more gas in his car. The needle was bobbing dangerously close to the 'E', after all, and as much as Paul didn't want to run out of gas in the middle of nowhere, he wanted even less to do so with a superpowered kid next to him.


He was quiet for a moment longer before speaking again, more to break the silence that had welled up between them than anything else. "One of those burgers is yours if you want it, since after this we're not stopping for a while." He offered, pulling into the Shell station and pulling up to one of the pumps without sparing her a glance. "One of the drinks, too, although there's water in the back if you don't like root beer." He sat silent for a moment longer- then he turned the car off and got out- taking his keys with him, just in case-, heading to the pump and pulling out one of his many fraudulent credit cards. After a few minutes Paul finished, getting back in the car and starting it up without another word. With that they were off once more, Paul heading back towards the highway.

 

[Soleil Overland]

Cress shrunk a little bit at the question. Was it unusual to ask for so little? It was all she'd recognized, and it had been filling enough when they had them at the carnival. Admittedly, they'd stuffed themselves full of some stolen treat or another beforehand--it had been a dough of some kind, if Cress remembered correctly, covered in sweet powder--so perhaps it wasn't the french fries themselves that had filled her up. However, she was spared from replying by the voice that came through the rough grey box set up on a stand outside the window. How was that possible? There was no way that a human could fit in a box so small. Cress furrowed her brow, peering at the strange device with intrigue. Perhaps there was a can inside, and the person speaking held a similar one attached with a string. Priska had told her that doing so would allow your voice to be heard far from where you actually stood.


That was one glaring flaw in her plan to trek across the country. There was so much about the outside world that Cress didn't understand, so much she wasn't even aware of. She couldn't even read, for Pete's sake. (Cress wasn't entirely sure who Pete was, but it was something Priska had said frequently, and Cress had picked up on the habit.) How was she supposed to travel so far with such a minimal understanding of how the world worked? The majority of words that the man used to request food made no sense to her, and how were they supposed to get the food through the grey box? The gaps in it were much too small for food to fit through, and there was no place for the food to come from. Unless, she supposed, it came through the stand that the box sat on. But wouldn't the food get tossed around in the trip? Wouldn't it be a mess by the time it reached whoever was waiting for it? She had a feeling asking the man about it would yield very few answers. He seemed far from talkative, and honestly, Cress was fine with that, even if curiosity burned inside of her.


She had secrets, dark ones that could put her entire mission in jeopardy if the man learned them, so she really didn't need him to go poking his nose into places that it didn't belong. She'd keep to her business, and from what she'd seen so far, she could assume that he could do the same. They'd reach Arizona, and they'd part ways. Travel companions, nothing more. She blinked at the paper bag that he handed to her, the scent of whatever was inside making her mouth water. She hadn't caught so much as a whiff of such pleasant aromas since that fateful day at the carnival. Dirt, sweat and blood, that's what she had grown used to, but she liked this much better. An inquisitive frown pulled at her lips when he mentioned the portion of the contents that belonged to her--a few of the words were unfamiliar.


"Burgerrrr..." she repeated softly and slowly, testing the way the word rolled off her tongue before hesitantly reaching into bag and pulled out a lump wrapped in crinkly paper. She glanced at the man as he climbed out of the car before hesitantly unwrapping it and staring at the strange object it revealed before taking a wary bite. Immediately, her eyes grew wide at the flavor. Giving a pleased hum, she took another bite, savoring the taste as she slowly chewed. It didn't take long for her to come to the conclusion that she liked burgers. By the time the man climbed back into the car, Cress hadn't finished even half of her burger. She wanted to enjoy it while she had it, and she knew from experience that if she ate too much too fast, she'd have to throw up later, and that was never pleasant. Holding her burger in one hand, she grabbed the bag and offered the open end to the driver.


"Mm?" Certainly, he must be hungry as well. How could he sit so stoically with that wonderful smell filling the car?

 

[FragmentedPhosphor]

Paul didn't miss the kid's inquisitive frown as he climbed out of the car, nor the way she said 'burger' as if she was testing the word- but again, although curious, he forced himself not to care. Like he had thought before, he couldn't afford to give a damn about her, both for her sake and his own, so he simply got the gas and returned to the driver's seat.


He definitely didn't notice, or care, how slowly the kid was eating her burger as they pulled onto the highway. For all he knew, she just didn't like whoppers, and simply wasn't complaining about it yet. When she offered the bag to him, however, he did take notice, and reached in to grab his own burger with one hand while steering with the other, his eyes never leaving the road. "Thanks." He said, perhaps unnecessarily, as he pulled his own burger out o the bag and unwrapped it with one hand- a feat of skill, but one he was used to performing by now. He had spent far too many hours eating whilst driving not ot be used to doing so.


Discarding the wrapper in the backseat- he would take care of it later- his focus returned to driving whilst he ate his burger. It went faster than the kid's did- much, much faster, considering how big a bite he regularly took. However, he supposed he couldn't really blame the kid for going slow- unlike him, she had nothing else demanding her focus, and even if she did actually like the burger in question she didn't look like she had had too many regular meals anyways. She might be taking it slow simply because she wasn't used to eating too quickly.


They drove in silence like that for a while, Paul pulling out his container of fries- leaving the kid with two, one from the meal and one from her personal order- and eating them at regular intervals until they' too, were gone. Then it was one to his drink, which he didn't consume quite as quickly. However, after awhile the silence once again became a point of annoyance for Paul, and after a few more moments of trying to tough it out he finally gave up and turned on the radio.


It was tuned to a station mostly dedicated to older songs; bands like the Beatles and ACDC were more likely to make their way onto it than Fall Out Boy or Twenty One Pilots. However, it did have a touch of modern music to it as well, since the song that was playing was from Imagine Dragons. Although not Paul's style, he enjoyed the break from silence nonetheless, and did not attempt to change the channel.


Once music was playing the tension that had built up with the silence relaxed, and Paul was able to focus once more on the road, instead of the lack of sound.

 

[Soleil Overland]

Cress set the paper bag down once more after the stranger took his burger, and then turned back to hers. She took her sweet time, but it was still gone before long. She then reached into the bag once more, and got started on the fries. It was much more difficult for her to go slow with those, but she managed, and was only halfway through the first container when Paul pressed a button on the console. Emerald eyes grew wide at the sound that began to fill the car and she tucked the fries back into the bag, leaning forward and angling her ear towards the place where the noise seemed to be coming from. She knew what the voice was doing--it was singing. Priska did that all the time, generally when Cress was having trouble sleeping. The sounds that accompanied the singing, however, were completely foreign, and she didn't quite understand how they were made, or where they were coming from. How was the car making such noises? Before all it had done was rumble.


"Music," she breathed, a small smile forming on her lips. She'd only heard it once, and that music didn't have words to go with it. It was the jaunty tune that played at the carnival, particularly loud around the moving horses--the carousal, if she remembered correctly--and the spinning circle--the ferris wheel. She liked this music much better. I feel it in my bones, enough to make my system blow. She leaned back, eying the speaker with interest. Curiosity burned inside of her, a million questions waiting to be asked, and finally, she gave in to the multitude racing through her mind.


"How do they make it?" she asked without taking her eyes from the speaker, "All the sounds, I mean. Singing's easy enough." She drummed her fingers against her knees for a moment before reaching behind her head, pulling out the tie and letting her hair fall around her shoulders. Just a second later, she gathered it in her hands and tied it back again, tying it a little tighter this time. It made no difference. The same flyways slipped out of the band's hold, framing her face and falling in her eyes, but now, they went ignored. She had never liked sitting still, another thing that made her hated by the scientists back at the facility. She'd squirm and run and occasionally cartwheel, if she really felt like it. She always needed something to do with her hands, hence why she began to twist and knot her extra hairband in the most complex way that she could.

 

[FragmentedPhosphor]

Paul gave another sideways glance to the girl as she leaned forwards, angling her ear towards the speaker, idly wondering if the kid would continue to be such an odd distraction. Usually, he wouldn't mind some sort of distraction from the monotony of the road- but as he was being constantly reminded, this was not the usual situation, and he wasn't sure he liked the idea of someone who could probably lift his car doing odd and unpredictable things near him. Atfter a moment more she breathed the word 'music' as if it was some kind of magical thing, and Paul had to wonder just where the hell this kid had come from, decision to stay out of her life a rather moot point by this time.


After all, it wasn't every day that a half-starved teen came out of nowhere, shoved a car like it was a paperweight, ate her food as if she was going to throw up if she ate any faster and acted as if music was the rarest thing in the world. What the hell had happened to her to make her act like that? Any option he thought of left something missing; abusive parents could starve a child like that, but didn't explain the strength. Nor did the idea of a homeless child, or even a drug user, not unless she was on something new. She could be from some underground lab- but there was no way things like that were real. That came from the world of comic books and action films, and as far as Paul could tell there wasn't a camera or image border in sight.


Then again, he mused, I guess most the characters in comic books don't see those borders either. Not like it matters, anyways- this is reality, not fiction. Any further thoughts on the matter were put on hold as the kid spoke again, and Paul raised an eyebrow at her incredibly strange question. For a moment he thought to question her further- but then the image of what, exactly, her unusual strength could do to him if he pissed her off flashed across his mind, and he came to the decision he would not yet question her questions, and just answer them as if they were normal.


"The music?" He finally replied. "Usually they just use musical instruments- guitars, pianos, drums, that type of thing... Although these days most artists use electronic synthesizers instead. That way they don't need any real talent to make the desired sound."

 

[Soleil Overland]

Cress nodded in response to the question of confirmation, leaning forward and listening with interest as he explained. However, she found his answer extremely lacking and gave a tiny snort, leaning back and shaking her head.


"Nah, I don't believe you. Those things don't sound real," she told him with a roll of her eyes, turning towards the window, "Sin-theh-sigh-zer? That's hardly an actual word." Then again, Cress really didn't have any sort of right to decide what did and didn't sound real, when she had so little knowledge of the outside world. French fries probably wouldn't have sounded real to her either if Priska hadn't told her, really only one year ago but what felt like a lifetime ago, that they were real. Something clicked in her mind and her brow furrowed.


"Wait, guitar? Isn't that--isn't that the thing that's like--" she struggled to find the words, so she just poised her hands as she'd seen them held by a street vendor oh so long ago, fingers curled above her shoulder while her right hand hovered somewhere over her stomach, gliding over invisible threads. The guitar had made lovely sounds as the man picked at the strings, and Priska had grabbed her arm, smiling brightly as she dragged Cress, startled and confused by the unfamiliar sounds, towards him.


"Music, Cress," Priska had whispered, heart both aching and warming at the look of awe that had spread over her companion's face, unable to imagine going her whole life without hearing it, "That's what music is." Cress let her hands drop, feeling slightly foolish. She remembered Priska telling her, voice nostalgic and wistful, about how both of her parents--the word had been foreign, and though Priska had described it to her, it had no meaning to Cress--played guitar. She'd described enchanting scenes in which her father--the word made no sense--would play a cheery tune, eyes crinkling by the corners as he watched his wife--another unfamiliar word--and his daughter--was Cress someone's too?--dance around the room. Then she'd realized that she was telling this story to a girl who had never known her parents, and fell silent quickly, afraid of upsetting her, but Cress thirsted for more, longed to hear more of the magical, beautiful, impossible life Priska had led before she was stolen away and brought to the facility.


"What does piano sound like?" Cress asked after a moment, sounding absent and having seemingly moved past her lack of belief, "What does it look like?" It would appear that, now that an initial question had been asked, there were plenty more to come.

 

[FragmentedPhosphor]

Paul snorted at her incredulity, half in disbelief himself at the fact she would be so oblivious about something so commonplace. "A lot of things don't sound like a proper word- like yacht, for example. That hardly looks like a proper word, let alone sounds like one. But hey... Welcome to the English language." His fingertips drummed on the steering wheel as Cress processed his words, tapping in rhythm to the song absently. Although far from his favorite song, Paul could appreciate the music, and even if it was new it still had a strength to it that Paul enjoyed.


Something evidently clicked in the kid's brain as she spoke again, brow furrowed and hands loosely mimicking holding a guitar after she failed to find the proper words to frame her question with. After observing her for a moment through a sidelong glance he shrugged. "That's how you hold one, yeah." He observed, wondering if he should bother describing what it actually looked like or not to her. After a moment of internal debate he evidently against it, and fell back into an appreciative silence as the song ended and the station moved on to the next song, another new-ish one that Paul hadn't heard before.


The kid asked another question, having evidently gotten over her doubt rather quickly, and Paul blinked at her query. What did a piano sound like? How was he supposed to describe what a piano sounded like? "Er..." He racked his brain for a description of the sound, before finally giving up for the moment in favor of describing what it looked like. "Well, it looks like..." He suddenly wished he still had that CD of classical music someone had brought him as a latent birthday present a while back. It had a picture of a pianist playing on the front, and with the CD playing he could just point out what a piano sounded like instead of searching for words that weren't there. "It's a large instrument, too large to ever carry. It has a set of black and white keys on the front of it, which are used to make the music, and three pedals at foot level to control how the sound comes out. It ones with a bench, since you can't comfortably play it standing up, and it sounds like..."


He trailed off for a couple moments. "Well, it's hard to describe. Have you ever heard a harp? It sounds slightly like of one of those was played with a felt hammer, instead of with your hands."

 

[Soleil Overland]

The next two months passed much like this--pretty quiet, a little dull, slightly stiff--but it couldn't be denied that some sort of bond had been formed. Neither acknowledged it, both preferring to pretend that there was nothing there, but little changes in the way they interacted made it obvious. Though they both kept their secrets, they conversed a little more than they did in the beginning, and a little more openly, too. Cress had managed to make him laugh once or twice, and she'd found herself snickering at something he did or said from time to time. Small changes, and yet monumental at the same time. In those two months, however, this had only happened one other time. Most of the time, they got their food and ate on the road, but they'd both been squirming a little bit lately, something about how little they were able to move in the car making their muscles ache. So, they'd pulled over to some small roadside diner (a slightly shady joint, but that was besides the point) and ordered a meal, keeping their heads down until they made it to their little corner booth. Even then, Cress kept her hood up, just to be safe, stuffing her face full of french fries, no mind for manners or appearances. Who cared if she resembled a half-starved ape in eating habits? Odds were she'd never see the people around her again, so why did what they thought of her matter?


"Imma g'a r'fill," she said through a mouthful of hamburger, shaking her empty cup to communicate the meaning of her garbled mess of a sentence. After all, there was a sign that said they were "free" (a concept that Paul had explained to her a few towns back) so there was no harm in getting as many as she wanted. She slid out from the booth and headed over to the drink machine on the other side of the diner. Swallowing the clump of hamburger and feeling it go down her throat like a rock, she pressed the button on the machine over the label of the drink she liked (another contraption that Paul had explained to the best of his ability), tapping her foot lightly as she waited. So lost in thought was she that she didn't hear the approaching footsteps, didn't sense the presence behind her until something pressed against the base of her back, the coldness of the metal chilling her skin even through the fabric of her shirt. Cress tensed.


"Walk," a low voice behind her ordered, and Cress obeyed, movements stiff and robotic as she turned and was guided towards the door, debating her options. Would she be able to turn fast enough to get the gun or would he shoot her the moment she moved? If she screamed, would she be shot immediately or would her assailant decide she wasn't worth it and run? Would the shot be fatal? Nobody seemed to notice what was happening, consumed by their conversations or newspapers. Her gaze flickered to the back of Paul's head, mentally begging him to turn around, and swore she saw a twinge of movement. But then the gun jabbed her back lightly and she was forced outside before she could see if he'd sensed her desperate gaze, clenching her jaw as she was guided around the corner and out behind the diner, where three other men were waiting. She was shoved up against the wall, gun held against the back of her head, while the men behind her conversed.


"That her?"


"I can hardly believe it, either. Took us so long to track her that it's hard to believe it's over."


"Quiet down, I need to check her," said the gruff voice of the man who had led her out her, and Cress hissed in pain when her arm was twisted behind her back, sleeves wrenched up so that her wrist was bared for the strangers to see. There was a moment of silence where they all inspected the tattoo, and then they began to speak again.


"It lines up."


"Maybe we should scan her, just to be sure."


"C'mon, no one else is gonna have a tattoo that specific--"


"We can't afford to make a mistake; they'll have our heads if we bring back the wrong girl. Give me the scanner." Cress swallowed thickly and dared to squirm a little bit, but froze when the gun pressed more firmly against the back of her skull. All she needed was a distraction, a brief one, just vital enough for the man to take the gun away and then she'd be able to free herself, but as long as the gun was against her head, she wasn't taking any chances. If she died, Priska was as good as dead too. Her life may not have mattered much, but Priska's was worth the sun, the moon and the stars combined, and if Cress died here, that life would be lost.

 

[FragmentedPhosphor]

The next two months were quieter than Paul had expected, considering he had a teenager in his passenger seat- there was very little in the way of prying done by either of them, and they seemed to both be comfortable leaving the others' secrets to themselves. The kid even settled in nicely to Paul's regular routine- two fast food meals a day, most of the time eaten on the road, and infrequent stops to stretch their legs or rent a motel room for the night, depending on how flush with money Paul was at the moment. She hadn't even made too much of a fuss when Paul had asked her to stay in the car whist he had done some business with some people he knew once or twice- although he was sure she had been watching him suspiciously- to get rid of the last of his supply and keep his wallet from emptying fully.


And in fact, a visit like that had partially been what prompted Paul to treat them to the small and somewhat shady diner that they were currently eating in. A rather good deal had gone off without a hitch, and since both of himself and the kid had been getting restless of late he had decided on a whim to eat in, as opposed to driving through the drive through.


The kid, as usual, had terrible table manners, eating as if she had been raised underground and with no concept of proper etiquette- but Paul didn't bother to try to correct her. So far she wasn't attracting too much attention, everyone else too consumed by the small spheres of their own lives to bother looking up, and frankly Paul didn't wish to waste time talking when he could be eating food that didn't come out of a paper bag.


She said something around a mouthful of burger, shaking her cup to emphasize her point, and Paul nodded before going back to his food. Although the words had come out garbled and nigh-incoherent, he had gathered enough of her meaning to discern what it was she had said. He let his thoughts wander as she headed off to get her refill, glancing through the window's distorted reflection of the doorway every time the small bell above the door chimed, more out of instinct than any intent to observe the diner's patrons.


He was never truly comfortable in an admittedly unfamiliar place such as this one, so as much as he enjoyed the chance to stretch his legs he hoped the kid would finish her refill soon, and follow suit with her food. They still had quite a ways left to go before they reached Tonopah, and the idea of staying in one place for too long was not a good one to Paul, even if they were just eating in some two-bit diner. Paul was almost done with his own meal, having eaten quickly as he always did, and from his glance at the kid's plate he saw she wasn't too far behind. All that was holding them up was the bill- and the kid's refill, which Paul figured should have finished by now.


He glanced back at the drink machine, and his brow furrowed when he saw she wasn't anywhere near it. Had she gone to the restroom? He doubted she would do so with a drink in her hand- common sense would dictate she would return it to the table before doing so, although with her common sense didn't always apply. With that in mind, he turned back to his table, figuring she had just gone off to do something strange. The bell over the door chimed, and Paul's eyes were once again drawn to the reflection in the window- only to see the kid's indistinct reflection being escorted out by that of a strange man, a distorted glint of metal between them suggesting that perhaps the escort was enforced.


His eyes narrowed and he turned to face the doorway, catching another glimpse of the kid and her captor as they headed towards the corner of the building. Shit. He thought to himself, moving to get his wallet from his pocket so he could pay off their meal and go after the girl. After a moment, however, he hesitated- did he really want to go after the kid? She was trouble- he had known that from the time he had first met her- and if he simply left while she was otherwise occupied, he could escape whatever trouble she brought with her. He could go about his only slightly less dangerous life, alone again, not having to go anywhere in particular and free to not worry about any temperamental repercussions from a superhumanly strong kid. For a moment he considered it...


Then he sighed, shook his head, and tossed enough cash to cover the meal on the table. Who am I kidding? He thought to himself, heading for the door and mentally prepping for a fight. I'm too much of an idiot not to help the kid. He hoped he could defuse the situation without it having to end up in bloodshed- but kidnapping a kid in plain sight with a weapon pressed to her back did not bode well for his hope. Fuck's sake, I tell myself not to get attached to this scrawny teen and what happens? He stepped out the door and headed towards where he had seen the kid be taken. Two months in and I'm chasing after men with guns. Men ballsy enough to kidnap someone in broad daylight. I better not get shot...





He heard the low babble of voices before he turned the corner, and his heart dropped when he saw not one man but four surrounding the kid. He absently wondered whether they all had guns, then shoved those thoughts down even as he heard something about a scanner. His expression was already stormy from the absolute bullshit he no doubt was going to go through, but he forced it a couple notches angrier for the effect it would present on his nearly 6'2 frame, and shouted, hoping they would scatter if he brought public attention to them, or at least the threat of it. "Hey!" He began to storm towards them, murder in his eyes. "What the hell are you doing to my niece?! Get your hands off her, you fucking pedophiles! I'll call the police on your asses!"


It was a bluff, but from Paul's expression one wouldn't know it- or so he hoped. The last thing he needed was the police to show up, not when he had countless warrants out for him- but he knew from experience nothing screwed up illicit activities more than a concerned citizen calling the cops. If all else failed, however, he was still relatively near to cover, and as always his 9mm. was holstered on his hip. Gunfire would almost certainly make them uneasy, considering it was still rather light and there were still a good amount of patrons in the diner.

 

[Soleil Overland]

Cress could feel her heartbeat picking up pace, breath coming out in frantic spurts, as there was rummaging behind her. This couldn't happen, not now. She'd gotten so far, this wasn't fair--why did the universe seem to have it out for her? Why couldn't it just let her have this? And if it was unwilling to cut her any slack, why couldn't it do her a favor for Priska's sake, considering she deserved the universe's benevolence so much more? Her rising panic seemed to amuse the men that surrounded her, as one of them snorted.


"She's getting scared."


"Must be her."


"That doesn't mean anything, dumb ass," cut in the rough voice of the man with the gun, "Any girl would be scared in this situation. Now, give me the scanner." Something pressed against the bar code on her wrist--no, no, no, no, no--and after a moment, there was a small beep. The satisfaction her captors felt was so strong that it practically radiated off them, suffocating Cress like a noxious gas.


"I told you guys--"


"Hey! What the hell are you doing to my niece?! Get your hands off her, you fucking pedophiles! I'll call the police on your asses!" Cress just barely resisted the urge to cry out in relief at the sound of Paul's voice. The gunman was obviously startled, because he lowered the gun just enough for Cress to take action.


Cress spun to face her captor, grabbing his forearm and snapping it with a flick of her wrist. The man roared in pain, dropping the gun to the ground and grabbing his broken arm, and immediately, his accomplices jumped into action. However, without the immediate threat of being shot, Cress saw no reason to be cautious. A swift kick to the chest sent one flying, slamming into one of the trees that grew behind the diner and slumping to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. She grabbed another by the shirt when he tried to charge her, throwing him into the gunman with the broken arm and immobilizing them both. Unfortunately, the final man reached her before she could turn, jabbing her in the neck with a syringe. The much despised tranquilizer. No, not again, this can't be happening! Cress thought desperately.


The girl collapsed to her knees, clapping a hand to the side of her neck. She was struggling to draw in each shuddering breath, and within seconds, her limbs felt so heavy that her hand felt from her neck. She planted her hands in the dirt, struggling to stay upright. She couldn't see, she couldn't breathe, she was going to die--

 

[FragmentedPhosphor]

The gunman and Paul both had little time to react to Paul's yell as Cress whirled into action, snapping the gunman's arm with a flick of her wrist then savagely attacking the other three members who had attempted to kidnap her. Paul was frozen for a moment by his own surprise at just how quickly the kid fought- but it was only for a moment, then he picked up his pace and headed into the fray. He had decided to help the kid, after all, and he wasn't about to back out now.


Not that there was much of a fray to head into, as Cress made quick made short work out of three of the four assailants, using her superhuman strength to easily overpower them. One went flying towards the trees growing behind the diner, and another was launched at the gunman, immobilizing them both for a short time. Paul reminded himself not to piss of the kid. now more than ever-but any further internal humor was quelled as he realized the final man was still moving, and Cress wouldn't be able to turn in time to fight him off.


Knowing calling out to her would be more of a distraction than it would have helped, at least this late in the movements, Paul only moved faster, trying to reach the man before he did any serious harm to the kid. He doubted they could really do much to hurt her before she reacted, but he had been wrong before- I sure as hell was in agreeing to help the kid in the first place- and didn't want to let Murphy's Law toy with him yet again.


His concerns turned out to be more valid than he had ever figured as the man stuck Cress with a syringe, depositing a dose of something into her system. The kid reacted as if as if she had been Superman hit with a near-lethal dose of kryptonite, collapsing to her knees almost instantly. Before the final man could do much else, however, Paul was close enough for proper combat, and wasted no time throwing a punch at the man who had so clearly drugged Cress. It connected solidly, and the man staggered a bit, but Paul gave him no chance to recover. As long as he was on the offensive, he figured, he would have the upper hand, as the man would be much too busy fending off Paul's attacks to pull any nasty tricks. He wasn't naive enough to expect his initial punch to knock someone out- although it had happened before, it had been more of a case of luck than skill- and so all he was counting on was his ability to beat another man into the ground.


Luckily, Paul was very good at doing so, jarring the man with a blow to his abdomen and following up quickly with another punch to the face, bloodying the man's nose and most likely breaking it. His attack was quick and brutal, giving his opponent little time to retaliate, and although the final man did get a blow or two in edgewise- one of them hitting Paul's eye hard enough he knew he'd have a shiner later- it wasn't long before Paul had knocked him around until he was too woozy to stand. The last blow knocked him out cold- or, at least down hard enough the man didn't want to get up again or open his eyes- and Paul turned back to Cress, ignoring the man with the broken arm and the one thrown into him after he had taken the gun away from them. He figured they had more than one gun on them, but his goal wasn't to incapacitate them all- it was simply to get Cress and get the hell out of there.


Cress, however, did not seem to be too able to run. "Kid-" Paul almost snapped, voice tense as he watched the other would-be kidnappers stirring around them, "Come on, we've got to move..." If there was a response from her, it was faint enough he couldn't catch it. The movements of the others became more pronounced, and he hesitated for a moment before making the snap decision he knew he would. He wasn't able to leave her, after all, even with as much trouble as she had evidently turned out to be. "Oh, fuck it." He muttered to himself, then picked Cress up, slinging her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry before half-running, half-jogging to his car, fumbling for his keys as he did so. Heading over to the passenger's side, he dumped Cress into her seat and took a half second to buckle her up before shutting the door- careful not to do so while any parts of her were in the way of said door- and circled around to the driver's side, already mapping the quickest way to get the hell out of there. He didn't spare a glance back to the diner as he started the car and drove out of the parking lot, fighting against the growing urge to speed away before the would-be kidnappers decided to chase him. The only reason, in fact, that he was going the speed limit was because he knew there were regularly active police in the area, and the only thing worse than being chased by a bunch of strange men was being pulled over by the cops.

 

[Soleil Overland]

Cress couldn't even raise her head as she heard Paul approach, hearing more than witnessing the way he brutally attacked the last man. It was only once the man collapsed to the ground, in her line of sight, that she caught sight of either of them, blood pouring from the stranger's nose and smearing around his lips. However, it wasn't the man's bloodied face that caught her attention, but the syringe that that was still loosely clutched in his hand. The tranquilizer was thick and deep gold in color, a darker shade than she seemed to remember it being before. She was oddly reminded of the stick of honey that she'd nabbed from some gas station they'd briefly stopped at some time back. At the sound of Paul's voice, distorted and distant despite the fact that he couldn't be more than a few feet away from her, she tried to tilt her face up and look at him, but couldn't manage it. She felt heavy, and even her malnourished body was too much for her suddenly weak arms to support, and she was seconds away from slumping face down in the dirt when Paul scooped her up, tossing her over her shoulder and racing to the truck.


The auburnette sat limp in the passenger seat, head lolling to the right side and one arm dangling by her side while the other was draped across her lap. It was a disturbing sight to be sure, as it was rare to for Cress not to be in motion. She was always moving, writing in her journal or playing with her hair, and was very rarely quiet, humming or singing beneath her breath or rattling off questions, so to see her still and silent seemed inherently wrong. Her eyes were, perhaps, the most unsettling aspect of the image. Generally, they were alight with some sort of emotion, curiosity, annoyance or even amusement, but while tranquilized, they were hazy and dull.


When she began to rouse hours later, the first thing she did was struggle to focus her gaze on the clock embedded in the dashboard, only a slight twitching of her fingers indicating that she was beginning to come to. 7:13. While her mind was still not quite firing on all cylinders, struggling to break free of the daze the tranquilizer had put her in, she could vaguely remember that they'd pulled in to the diner around one in the afternoon, and it certainly hadn't felt like they were there long before the man had brought her outside. Had she been out for six hours? When trying to recall the past few hours, all that came to her was blurry patches and fragments of sound, likely from the radio, so it would appear she was unconscious for nearly the entirety of the past few hours. Even once she began to return to the world of the living, it took about another half an hour for her to come to enough to shift, movements sluggish and slow. Her limbs were tingling and her face felt numb, so she took a moment to try and rub feeling back into her cheeks, then slid her fingers up to rub at her eyes, which were dry and irritated due to being open for the entirety of the period she was drugged.


"I don't....I don't understand..." she finally spoke, voice hoarse and tinged with something almost like fear, something that was rare for Cress to openly express, "I don't understand...how..." She leaned forward until the seat belt restricted her, still feeling as though much of her body was made of lead and wanting to get in as much motion as possible, get her blood pumping throughout her body once more. She stretched slightly and winced as her neck twinged--having spent the past six hours with her neck bent at an awkward angle, moving it suddenly had caused a sharp jab of pain, so she reached with still prickling fingers to massage it. Giving a few small coughs to try and clear her throat, she slowly sat back up, fingers immediately beginning to rub at the thin slit on her wrist, long since healed over and faded. "How did they track me?" she rasped, throat still rough and dry, "They can't--I--I cut out the chip!" She turned to Paul, as if the man would somehow have an answer. "I took it out, they shouldn't be--how could they--was it just...by chance?" she muttered to herself, sounding almost frantic, "That doesn't make sense, the odds of that are so low--we're so far away, how could they just happen to find me? I mean, tracking seems like the only way they could have, b-but they couldn't have, I took it out!"


For the first time since she had began to travel with Paul, Cress felt legitimately terrified. Once she had gotten far enough away, she was certain she was in the clear. With the chip cut out and so much distance between herself and those that would be looking for her, she assumed that she'd escaped them at last. But a close call like that had brought the paranoia back at full force, and even the car didn't feel safe. Her gaze flickered down to the faded scar, and she bristled. Had a piece gotten stuck? Had she somehow missed a fragment of the tracking chip that was allowing them to trace her?


"Do you have any tweezers?" she asked in a distressed tone, shoving a hand in her bag and desperately feeling around for her pocket knife, never taking her gaze off the pale scar on her wrist, lining the skin beneath the bar code.

 

[FragmentedPhosphor]

Most of the drive was done in strained silence, Paul's hands gripping the steering wheel with a tension not usually seen, his thumb tapping the inside edge of it and knuckles nearly white from the force of the grip. He didn't once stop for gas or snacks, even when his stomach grumbled from hunger, instead speeding down unused side-roads, his gaze switching between the view from his rearview mirror and the unnaturally still form of Cress.


To see her that still was wrong in the most basic of ways; throughout the time he had gotten to know her, she had always been active, always doing something with her hands or shifting in her seat or asking innumerable questions about normal life. He was so creeped out by her stillness he didn't even have it in him to pull over and shut her eyes for her- although he suspected that would have helped his uneasiness some, considering then she would look more like she was sleeping and less like she was dead. That in and of itself was a concern in Paul's mind; he knew from personal experience she wasn't dead, not yet, but what if the strangers who had tried to kidnap her- and why had they tried to kidnap her, of all people?!- had poisoned her with whatever was in that syringe? He was using the back roads for a reason, avoiding any and all signs of a city- but what if those actions were keeping her away from a hospital she might just desperately need? He knew he couldn't very well go to one, not with how many warrants were on his head, but if Cress was poisoned...


Paul was not a good man. He had killed others, sold drugs, evaded the law and even killed a police officer on one very unfortunate occasion, just to name a few of the many less than legal things he had accomplished. But when it came right down to it, he cared about Cress- perhaps not enough to risk his freedom for the scrawny kid, but certainly enough to worry about her. He was almost to the point of breaking down and driving her to a hospital when he glanced over and saw her fingers twitch. The movement was slight, but noticeable to the older man- yet although he still didn't trust her to be out of the fugue, even though her eyes were showing more life in them as each minute passed, the slight movement was enough to reassure him she wasn't in desperate need of a hospital quite yet.


Even then when she finally came to enough to move, the tension was nearly palpable. Paul was still incredibly worried about Cress's condition, but that was not all- he was also unsettled that she had been kidnapped in the first place. Too many things were wrong for it to just have been a 'normal' kidnapping; the time, the place, the way the strangers had talked-- none of it was how it should have been. He had known something was off with the kid from the time he had met her- it was hard not to know, with the amount of strength she had displayed that night- and had worried that she had had her own baggage she was running away from; now that her baggage had not only proven to exist but had caught up to them, he knew he needed to know what the hell was going on before he continued on their path. The idea of ditching her hovered in the back of his mind; by this point he didn't like the thought of abandoning her on the side of the road- especially not with the threat of retaliation she had provided- but if his life was in clear and evident danger then he just might find a way to leave her when she had no chance to punch him out and steal his car.


When she began to talk he began to scan the road for a place to pull off, and after a couple minutes he was lucky enough to find a driveway that lead to a secluded parking lot, paved with gravel and well-shaded by the trees around it. The entrance to a state park laid beyond the lot, but Paul paid that little mind. As she rambled he parked the car, still tapping the steering wheel in an irregular rhythm. It took a conscious effort to let got of the steering wheel, but he did so and turned to look to her as she asked for tweezers. He glanced towards the backseat, where the medical bag he had stolen months ago was stored, but decided to ignore her question for the moment to ask the more important one of his own. "What the hell was that about?!" He tried to keep his voice as calm as possible, but still it came out harsh and snappish.

 

[Soleil Overland]

Cress glanced up at the question, before lowering her gaze once more. Admittedly, Paul had earned some of her trust in the months they'd been traveling together. He had provided her with food, drink, shelter--the last, admittedly, while under threat of having his car taken from him by force if he didn't allow her to share it with him, but the first two hadn't been part of the deal, so that had to mean something, right?--and company, something that she desperately needed, as little as she wanted to admit it. Cress had always had a problem with dependency. While she had learned to take care of herself, she hated feeling alone, hated feeling like she was the only person she could rely on. So, when Priska had been kind to her, she'd clung to it, clung to Priska. It had been such a relief, to have someone else that genuinely liked her, that wanted good things for her, that would care for her and be there for her. She'd finally found someone who wanted her.


And they'd ripped her away.


So, what did Cress do? She tried to get her back. She spent a year stewing in her hatred and desperation and loneliness while waiting for the opportunity to arise and when it did, she pounced on it, so frantic to get out that she made her escape recklessly and almost ruined it all. But she didn't, and she ran as fast and as far as her legs would carry her, sloppily slicing open her wrist and wrenching out the tracking chip without so much as pausing to clean up the blood that had poured down her forearm. With nothing but her love for Priska, her longing to be by her side once more, driving her, she'd taken the little she'd known about the world and somehow made it work. She bartered for clothes that would disguise her, took the food she would need to survive, negotiated her way into having transport. Because of the doctors, she was scared of venturing into the outside world, but because of her own hard work and determination, she was fierce once within it. 


But not as fierce as she would like, because at the end of the day, she was still vulnerable. She was still a broken child running from a bully with scraped knees and teary eyes, except the bully was not one but many people, people with power that had figured out what she feared and taught themselves how to use those fears to manipulate her. And just when she'd thought she'd gotten away at last, they'd pulled the rug from under her again, proven once more that she could never really get away, no matter how hard she tried. And that, that feeling of hopelessness, of being trapped, was scarier than anything.


"I was in a bad place, I got away from that bad place, and now there are bad people looking for me, okay?! That's the short of it," the girl returned snippishly, finally feeling her fingers close around the hilt of her pocket knife, "And these - these bad people, they have access to materials that most people don't, but it doesn't make sense, because I cut the chip out, so they shouldn't have been able to track me! Tweezers would be great, please!" She pulled out the pocket knife and flicked it open, drawing a deep breath before pressing it to the faint scar beneath the bar code stamped on her wrist. She glanced briefly towards Paul before looking back to the knife clutched in one shaking hand. "You're okay with blood, right? Hope so." With that, she hunched her shoulders forward, drew her knees to her chest, and pressed the knife into the scar, sliding it along the skin until she had successfully opened the scar.


"I really, really, really don't want to have to use my fingers, so you know, tweezers--" She looked at him with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, trembling violently in her seat. That damn tracking chip would be her downfall. If they were still using it, it would not only interfere with her plans, thus putting her at risk of being brought back to the facility and lowering the chances of Priska ever being rescued, but it could potentially endanger Paul too. Of course, Cress knew that Paul was more than capable of taking care of himself--it had been clear for a while now that Paul was not the most virtuous of people, and that he likely led a devil-may-care sort of life, and Cress had the inkling that he was used to using violence whenever it seemed necessary--but she doubted that he'd faced people like the doctors before. They had weapons stronger than someone like Paul would be able to imagine at their disposal, test subjects they'd twisted into loyalty by their side, and they were a force to be reckoned with.