Chapter 1

We begin in Hoover.

An aged white cat greets Lillian as she stumbles on the threshold, removing earrings and that tight bun she's forced to wear; the skirt's too tight as well.

The cat laces himself through Lillian's legs as she walks to the bathroom to remove today's layer of makeup. He was hungry, obviously; Lillian had been away since 5 in the morning. Shark dragged his claws down Lillian's leg, meowing impatiently. She took a detour and went to the kitchen first, popped a can of cat food, and deposited it into Shark's tray.

He, like most other cats, simply sniffs his food before leaving to bask on the windowsill. Lillian's eyes followed the weightless feline as he floated to his vantage point. He lay beside a porcelain vase, the one that held Lillian's ex-boyfriend's Valentine day gift.

Of course, she hated him for the break-up but also because she had to work for his uncle, Vice President Norman Wright of the West Bank, as his personal secretary.

Now dead, the brown, wilted flowers had drooped and shriveled around the heart he had left. Seeing the flowers like that filled her with satisfaction so she never bothered to remove them. She did bother to remove her high heels, which had been killing her since day one.

Once, she recalls, she attempted to wear athletic shoes instead. Such an endeavor ended briskly, resulting in her having to send for the required pair of stilettos. She thought against it for a second but then decided to remove the skirt and her top.

"Why not? I'm in my own house." She said defiantly to no one.

Her next stop, the bathroom, always found her with a heap of dirty clothes adorning the center. She kept putting it off but today she'll need to wash lest she wear a dirty pair tomorrow, and tomorrow she must be impeccable for her boss. Lillian even wrote it down on her mirror: "Look sexyy 2morow!!!"

Half-naked, she takes a gander at her body. Her breasts have sagged since her 22nd birthday, those barely-noticeable jelly rolls are slowly taking form, but worst of all, her face was losing that youthful luster the commercials always prance about. Her hair required more of that conditioner stuff; age has made being pretty a chore.

Before, she could pull it off just by waking up and combing her hair. Today, products helped maintain the illusion of youth but for how long? These were the kind of things that made her envy men. They usually improve with age. Teddy, her ex, was one of those. 20 years would find him with a salt-and-pepper look. She'd be a baggy hag at best.

Lillian sucked her belly in for a confidence boost; her breasts just followed the curve of her rib cage, not even firm like before. How many of those Jenny Craig diets did she break since New Year's? That running machine has remained idle since she bought it. $500 down the drain. At least she can flip it for at least $200.

In the kitchen, her phone rang like a maniac. She set off for it, stubbing her toe in the progress.

"Lillian Grassman, please hold," she answered out of habit.

"Lily, it's Ted. I wanna talk," he responded slowly.

"There's nothing to TALK about," she snapped, spitting the words.

"No, babe, let me-"

"Don't call me 'babe,' you asswipe," she interrupted.

"Since you didn't hang up immediately, I can safely assume you wanted to hear my voice."

Lillian hung up on Teddy. Shark meowed overhead. She can imagine what the cat must be seeing: a half-naked woman huddled over her phone. The mental image goaded her into the shower before anything else could distract her.

She disrobed and entered the hot shower. Steam rolled inside the curtains. It was hot and Lillian loves it just like that. It was her time to unravel, to relax, and to unwind. The events of the day unfolded behind her eyes...

Morning: wake up 4AM, shower, make-up, carefully picking out her outfit plus an extra pair of everything to go into her backpack, and searching high and low for her keys which were in her purse. Then, she was treated to a traffic jam and getting pulled over again by the obsessive cop she friendzoned.

"I should give you a ticket for being too cute," he joked.

She had forced a smile and laughed weakly, "You wouldn't have enough evidence to support that claim."

And before he could reply with another corny line, she would say bye and blow him a kiss.  

Highlights from work: cute guy from the UPS said hi. But then he forgot to say bye. Freddy dropped by with some glazed donuts which she reluctantly ate. The stains from said donuts on her backside later, to which Andrew commented: "Sweet a*s, Lilly!"

The embarrassed walk of shame she endured as she walked down the office cubicles. The following changing of the skirt in the girls' restroom, which clashed with her red top.

Jackie revealing that the UPS guy is actually gay, "Not bi, sweetie, but flaming," she clarified.

Her boss, Vice-President Wright, staring down her shirt as he nonchalantly explained the outline of how to properly handle priority calls for the x number of times. Feeling like his eyes remained glued on her at all times. Snickering when he turned around because of an Office Space reference (Yeah, if you could just get those TPS reports in by Wednesday that'll be great).

Getting a call from Anthony, her younger brother and not answering; he called a total of thirteen times and she didn't reply. Also, she started to regret turning down Lloyd, the office delivery boy.

A thin, short man with a teenager's complex, he nervously asked Lillian out on a date, to which she kindly turned down.

In retrospect, Lillian feels she should've given Lloyd a chance. She had written him down in her contacts and all it takes is a quick phone call.

"Hey, Lloyd, I was mulling it over," she practiced out loud, "No, 'mulling' isn't the right word. How are you, Lloyd? Not that, either. I should be direct. Lloyd, we should go out," she chuckles, "Oh well, shower first then I'll call him."

After the Lloyd encounter, Pete, the janitor, stayed with her during closing time.

The old man huffed, "Damn Lindburgh."

"What did he do THIS time?" Lillian asked.

Pete leaned on his broom, "Damn Lindburgh left such an atrocity in the boys' room," he shook his head, "Left the toilet looking like a f*****g disaster zone. How could so much s**t fit inside one man?"

Lillian absently nodded.

He went on, "I mean, the guy's fat as hell but Jesus Lee Christ, I tell you. You know, Lillian?"

"Yep, it's a mystery," Lillian replied.

Pete had been nice enough to wait a few hours after closing to allow Lillian just enough time to complete the tower of memos left for her. She hugged Pete when he finished locking up, "Oh God, Pete, you are a Saint."

He squinted back at her, "Was that supposed to be a joke?"

"Yeah, like, Peter was a saint and your name is Peter so, yeah."

Pete slapped his knee and hollered heart-fully. He walked away with that smile stuck to his face, repeating the punchline every now and then. Lillian felt refreshed then, a feeling ruined by the perverted cab driver that took her home.

"Sorry, lass. I've no change for a $20," he drawled Irish-ly, "But there are other ways to pay, my dear."

She crumbled the bill and tossed it, "Shove it."

He stuck his head out the window and yelled, "I was about to suggest that, too, darling!"

And now the trail of memories ended in the present with Lillian drying her hair off and putting a load of clothes in the washer.

"Tomorrow will be better," she rehearsed, a line she says every night before bed.

…

Coldplay serenaded Lillian at 4:00 AM. Groggy, she proceeded to prepare herself for the day ahead. With coffee and a cold sandwich in her stomach, Lillian locked her door, called her usual cabby, Harold, and found herself an hour later in front of the West Bank with police barring the entrance.

Cops swarmed and ran about importantly while confused employees rubbernecked behind the tape.

Lillian finds Pete, "What the hell happened?"

He looked at her with a disappointed face, "I would've thought you had an idea. No one here's got a clue, Lillian."

She left Pete and went to Jackie, who also didn't know a thing. Neither did Lindburgh, Lloyd, Jackie, Freddie, Andrew, or anyone else she knew. There was one person who could help.

Lillian located Officer McQueen, her personal stalker, "Jimmy, what's going on? Why are the police here?"

His face lit up, "Lilly the Kid! How's it?"

She rolled her eyes, "What's happening here?"

"Robbery, Lilly. Some a*****e and his friends decided to break in somewhere around midnight. Cleaned out the basement vault! Damn rats, huh?"

Mentally, she smirked. Outwardly, she gasped, "Who would've guessed?"

"Yep, it's a real mindful, Lilly. So-"

"Thanks for helping, Jimmy, see you around."

Lillian proceeded to study the faces of her co-workers, finding an even mix between disappointment, frustration, and morbid interest.

A few cops came from behind the tape, ordering people to move along. Lillian sought refuge inside a coffee shop across the street, waiting for Teddy to arrive; he has a stake in the business simply because Wright's his uncle.

An hour crawled by with no sign of Teddy. The crowd had also dissipated but the police still maintained their presence. A vibration went off, her phone, alerting her of a text message.

It read: No im not there!!

"Teddy," she whispered.

She replied: wat r u talkin about?

He replied: obviosly you arent home

She sent back: were r u?

New message: What's your cats name shes cute

Enraged, she didn't reply. Instead, she called up Harold, who took her home without asking any questions like always.

Teddy stood at the door holding Shark, "Welcome home, honey!"

She attempted to slap him, but he caught her by the wrist, "Well, well! Aren't we a little ballsy?"

"Get the f**k out of here! How did you even get in?"

"You left me a copy, remember?"

She wrenched her hand away, "Go, or I'll call the cops."

"With what? Your phone?" He held it up for her to see.

Lillian dug through her purse. Between his fingers, Teddy held the can of pepper spray.

"Okay, so you're a pickpocket. Could you please leave?" She requested.

"I'm also a bank robber, babe. Not the most subtle confession, I know, but, yup."

Skeptical, she dared him, "Prove it."

Smiling, Teddy put his hand to Shark's white fur. Slowly, it turned grey then full white, even matching the solitary black dot.

Surprised, she took a wary step back, "Bullshit. That's just some magician crap you use to pick up high school girls."

He revealed a toothy grin, "No, Lilly. I'm an Extra-human. Like the ones who hear about through the TV."

She backtracked, "So you're a bank robber?"

"Yes, baby, and I cleaned out the entire West bank alone. Just make sure your brother and his pirates don't go after me if something goes haywire."

She started to speak but Teddy cut her off with a brisk hand.

"Your brother's a f*****g scavenger. He'll be the end of you, Lillian."

Silently, Teddy went down the stairs. Lillian entered her apartment and collapsed on her bed. Anthony didn't have a job but managed to stay afloat somehow. Her phone went off again.

"Hello?"

"Hey, where were you? I called a hundred times, Lilly."

"Oh, Anthony. I was busy, you know, work."

"Work? What's that?"

She smiled, "I'm sorry, Tony. I should've called back."

"No, it's cool, dude."

"What did you need?"

"Well, it's about Teddy. He's not what he seems."

"Oh, I know. He's a bank robber and some other bullshit."

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"He told me. He also said something about you. That you're a-"

"Urban treasure hunter. It's time you knew. The lines aren't secure; I'll explain everything later."

He hung up, leaving Lillian more confused than before. For now, all she could do was wait. Sleep took hold and robbed her of 5 hours. The clock read 11:57 PM. She rolled over to look away from it, as if it'll freeze if she pretends it's not there. A knocking interrupted her thoughts.

"Lillian! It's Harold," the voice called.

"Harold? What's the matter?"

"Pet Dragon sent me here. Your brother."

She opened the door to see Harold. She wasn't accustomed to hear him speak; he was always silent and mindful.

"Let's go, Lillian. They're waiting."

A brief trip later, Harold stopped inside a parking complex. She stepped out warily, an emotion easily warranted.

Harold met her outside of the taxi, "Lillian, do you know what your brother does for a living?"

She shook her head, "He's never talked about work. But since he never complained about money I never asked."

"Do you ever wonder where his money comes from?"

Anthony put a hand on Lillian's shoulder, spooking her, "Winter, you're just confusing her. Look, Lilly. This, what I do, is basically treasure hunting. Whenever a drug deal goes wrong or if a money lender gets taken out, Wandering Oak, our 'organization,' is there to pick through the gore for anything of value. We all go by call signs. For example, Harold goes by Winter, I'm called Pet Dragon."

"So you're a scavenger like Teddy said."

"Yeah, but there's more to it. Typically, we have many enemies."

"Like Teddy," she finished.

"Correct. Teddy is what we call Crawling Grass. You know what that type of plant does, right? It grows on other vegetation like a virus, a parasite."

"Am I in danger?"

"Not immediately. But people like Teddy are common, usually using a Leaf's own family members as hostage to go about their lecherous activities."

"But what did I ever do to the guy?"

Anthony sighed, "Nothing, Lilly. You were just born around an irresponsible sibling."

"It isn't secure here, Dragon. We must leave at once," Winter warned.

Anthony nodded and pulled Lillian towards the taxi.

"I'm here, Lilly. Ask me anything," Anthony assured.

"Where's Tab?"

"She's waiting for us at Wandering Oak, our main camp," he explained.

"What's her call sign?"

"Sleepy Lady. On the outside, refer to us with our call signs. Got it?"

Lillian nodded.

Winter slowly brought the car to a halt and put in park. The front passenger door opened, filling the seat was a young boy.

"Hey, Fuego," Anthony greeted.

The kid shook Winter's hand and turned around to shake with Anthony. He stopped and looked at Lillian.

"Who's she?"

"I'm Wilted Flower."

He gave her an incredulous look, "They call me Fuego Blanco."

Lillian studied the small boy. He had a completely innocent aroma about him but she suspected a darker ambiance underneath that. She let herself rest for a second, which turned into a complete nap.

Anthony awakened Lillian, "Wake up, Lilly. We're here."

Apparently, "here" was a gigantic warehouse illuminated by great bonfires scattered about. Men and women of all ages conversed among themselves, indifferent to the car parked in the middle. She stepped out.

Instantly, the crowd overtook her, sending her into a world of dancing, chatting shadows. A hand met hers, successfully extracting her from the spinning blur of busy bodies.

"Easy there, Flower. It's this way," Fuego directed coolly.

He, led by Anthony, guided Lillian through the surging crowd. Distracted by lights and sounds the likes of which she has never experienced, she bumped into Fuego.

They stood before a rather large shack with a dream catcher hanging at the beaded-curtain entrance. Anthony went in first, followed by Fuego who still held Lillian's hand.

Inside, the shack had managed to seal off the outside din. Lillian observed the interior and its rather 60's atmosphere.

In the middle of the shack sat an old, bearded man sitting across from an elderly black woman. An intense game Chinese checkers waged between them. Anthony and Fuego sat on plush pillows; Lillian followed suit.

After what seemed hours, the old woman spoke, "Which walks of life sit before us today?"

"Pet Dragon, Fuego Blanco, and Wilted Flower," Anthony answered.

"Let the last speak her true name," she commanded cryptically.

"Lillian Kayley Grassman," she responded.

"Welcome!" The old man beamed, "A new Leaf for the old Branches, huh?"

"Hush, now, Clock. Remember that she's new here," she turned directly at Lillian, "A Leaf is an individual at base rank. Rank follows the colors Green, Yellow, Red, Brown. A Branch is one responsible for Leaves.

After that, we have the Trunk and Roots. Together, we complete a Tree. There are many Trees, darling, and this one far from being the largest."

Lillian cast her imagination forth to envision a larger community.

"We are a nationwide organization of treasure hunters," she explained, "We salvage priceless heirlooms that would otherwise fall into the black market, or be ultimately destroyed. The Wandering Oak, this city's Tree, has recovered countless treasures buried underneath our very feet."

She gave Anthony an annoyed look, "Some of our Branches sometimes go AWOL, taking things that shouldn't be reintroduced into society."

"Ranger and Jose died because of you, Dragon. Sleepy Lady almost paid the same price. I hope you've learned your lesson," the old man said reproachfully.

Anthony simply stared at his hands.

"We should introduce ourselves. I'm Clock and my wife here is Sad Grenade. We're this Tree's Trunk. Your brother and Fuego are both Branches, and you, if you join our clan, will be a Green Leaf. Harold the cab driver is what we call a Root. Roots dedicate themselves to transporting others."

"But not today, Clock. Lillian's had quite the afternoon. Decisions like these must wait until another time," Anthony added.

"Dragon's right, you know. Let the girl think it over," Grenade concurred.

"Alrighty then. Wilted Flower, take your time and return when you must. Winter will be a phone call away."

"You may leave now, Pet Dragon and Fuego Blanco," Grenade granted.

"Leaves may fall but they always grow back," they stated together.

After Lillian stepped out, she noticed that the crowd and the fire have died down, leaving the warehouse dark and eerie.

"There's another Root waiting for us outside. Let's go."

Just as Anthony had said, a red SUV idled silently. The Root saluted them with warmth. He wore a backwards baseball cap and had numerous piercings and tattoos.

"Hey, man, meet Wilted Flower."

"Pleased to meet such a sweet treat. I was getting lonely in the SUV," he rhymed with a British accent and a crooked smile.

"Take us home, Red Coat."

Lillian opened the door to her apartment. Shark greeted her as usual. Knowing that such a large organization lived and breathed right beneath the fabric of her normalcy made her life seem trivial and small. If she joined Wandering Oak and became a Leaf, that world will be open to her. But if she didn't, Lillian feared, she'd have to live at the mercy of Teddy. She was set on becoming a Leaf.

…

It stunk like death. Lillian tasted something unsavory in her mouth. She tried to spit, but the anxiety had left her mouth drier than an old bone.

"Flower? Try to keep up," it came from above.

Despite the darkness, her eyes began to focus on a white object.

"Look, Flower, a target."

She leaned from the safety of the tree and reached into the pockets of the pilot. His corpse clung to the tree by flaps of flesh.

Some flesh tore, "No, Reaper, I can't!"

"Better hurry, Flower. If he falls, the job gets messier."

"Why can't I climb into the bush plane?" She complained.

"Because Dragon would kill me if you were hurt."

She yelled, "Well, I'm already clinging to a damn tree supporting a wrecked airplane picking the pockets of Leonard Finch!"

"How'd you know his name? Are you a wizard?"

"No, you idiot. I found his wallet and it says so right there."

"Anything valuable?"

"There's like 100 bucks in here," she responded.

"Leave the money. Take the wallet; it's a valuable wallet," Reaper commanded.

"Seriously?"

"Yes. A Leaf never takes money," Reaper explained.

"What about the money from drug deals and stuff, like Dragon said?"

"That's different. I'll explain everything later, Flower. Just let me check out the interior in case the radio is in working order."

Reaper climbed into the open cockpit, mumbling to himself.

Leo isn't an ugly mug, Lillian thought, Too bad he's deader than a dodo.

She emptied the contents into Leonard's pockets, taking the wallet as Reaper had instructed. Leonard also wore a golden Rolex which she took along with his golden rosary. Above her, the small airplane looked at her as if frowning.

The cockpit was now a gaping hole and the co-pilot had been smeared where he sat. Reaper had disappeared inside the wreckage but she could still hear the hollow footsteps he made as he probed the plane. He came out a few minutes later with a disappointed face.

"What did you find, Flower?"

"Gold watch and necklace."

"Hardly worth the trip. Let's head down before the police arrive," Reaper advised, "I'll call a Root before I hit the ground. This is the only place I get reception after all."

Lillian made it to the acorn-littered floor.

Reaper met her a few seconds later, "There's a lone road up that way. Call sign: Dashboard King."

A short trek later, they come across the road Reaper had mentioned. They didn't have to wait long for a pick-up truck with faded blue paint to arrive.

"Happy Reaper?" The young man asked.

"Dashboard King, hello. This is Wilted Flower."

"Jump inside. We'll be home in no time."

Dashboard King was one of those farmer-tan, overall-wearing, classical farm boys. His hair, straw colored, poked out from under his worn out John Deere cap.

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

"Huh?"

He chuckled, "Well, it seems like there's something interesting on my nose. That, or perhaps there's something ya'all want to ask me."

Reaper shrunk in his seat, and Lillian blushed.

"I'm sorry if I stared, King. I didn't mean to," she replied.

"Come on now, Flower. I ain't scolding ya'all. I understand if I ain't the handsome-est fellow to pick ya'all up, what with having Winter as a personal Root and all. Shoot, I'd like that job if-"

"How'd you know about that?" She interrupted.

"Winter's my grandpappy. He mentioned you a lot back when he used to visit me."

"What'd he say?"

"That ya'all was sweet and ya'all was a kind, little lady. He was excited when he was designated as your personal Root."

She blushed again, "I never knew your grandfather to be such a talker."

"Yep, he goes on and on about his Root business. Got me into doing the same thing, as you can see. Now I wanna be a Leaf, like ya'all are now."

Reaper spoke up, "It's not impossible, you know. You could talk to the Trunks and get reassigned."

"But being a Leaf is full-time and I got my responsibilities. As much as I'd like to, I can't," he remorsed.

The forest had started to clear up, being slowly replaced by a gradually growing town.

"You see that green marquee?"

Lillian did, and it read: Ol' Susie's General Store.

"That there is this town's Tree, Wayward Pine. As you can imagine, there aren't as many people as ya'all have at Oak. Including myself, there are 2 Roots and 4 Leaves all under one Branch," he explained.

King brought the truck around the back. They all exited the vehicle and stood by a back door. He knocked 4 times.

"Who's there?"

"A man who has accepted the oath and grows as his kin do."

The door opened to reveal a scarcely lit room.

"I am the Root, Dashboard King. Behind me are the Leaves, Happy Reaper and Wilted Flower."

"Hello, King. Welcome back to Wayward Pine," the figure stepped from the shadows.

The speaker was a middle-aged man wearing Aviator sunglasses despite the darkness.

"Since your friends don't know me, how about you introduce me, King?" He ordered annoyed.

"Oh, right. This is our Branch, Immortal House."

House bowed, "What'd you all bring me?"

Reaper sighed, "A gold watch and necklace. And this wallet."

He presented the assorted treasures before House.

"It's like they said, 'You can't have a Tree without a Trunk," House stated.

"Yeah, we even fought for the right to establish a Tree here," King added, shaking his head.

House slapped his thighs and stood up, "Well, thank you for your help, Flower, Reaper. With 4 Leaves and 2 Roots, one would imagine we'd have someone on the job."

Lillian smiled and said nothing, not knowing whether or not House had used sarcasm.

"King, if you don't mind, help these folks get home," House requested.

He accepted and led Flower and Reaper out of the room.

"It's pretty tough to be a Leaf here. Nothing ever goes down in Matterhorn so our Tree rarely bears Fruit. It's doomed to Wilt."

Lillian placed a hand on King's shoulder, "Why don't you move to the city? Wandering Oak is staggeringly large."

"I can't. As much as I'd like to, it's here where I belong."

Things went silent as they drove through the countryside. Lillian could see the skyscrapers poking into the clouds. King let them off at the city outskirts. They bid farewell and parted ways.

"It's sad, isn't it?" Reaper asked.

"I was about to ask you about that. Aren't Trees obligated to help each other?"

"It's like this, Flower. There is always one Tree per city. Some cities are big enough for two but that's very rare. Multiple Trees are governed by a council of Trunks and High Branches. But they usually Wilt because of power struggles, or people become aware of their presence."

"And that city is left Treeless?"

"Yes. Once a Tree Wilts, no other Trees may be established."

"That's awful."

"I haven't told you about Mushrooms, have I?"

"I don't believe so. Are they like rivals or something?"

"Far from the truth. Mushrooms are the defenders of Trees. They follow the Trunks' orders, like us, but they work on keeping the Tree and its Leaves safe."

"Does Wayward Pine have a Mushroom?"

"No, unfortunately."

Lillian looked at Reaper with a worried face.

"Well, we better call another Root to take us to Oak," Reaper suggested after the pause. He pulled out his phone.

"Hey, it's Reaper. Happy Reaper. Yeah, we're at the old observatory. Cool, see you then."

"Reaper, why did you choose that call sign?"

He chuckled, "I killed a man in prison. I used a sharpened bone from a steak to do it."

Lillian listened, astonished.

"Yeah, the a*****e had it coming. Did him in at the rec yard with a quick stab to the neck. Bled out like a pig," he recalled. Lillian detected nostalgia in his expression.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I'm out now because I escaped from prison during a riot. I was opportunistic I'm afraid."

"I guess that answered my next question."

"Which was?"

She cleared her throat, "Why'd you become a Leaf?"

He winked, "I don't know, Flower. It just happened."

She couldn't help but be charmed by the ex-prisoner, even though he smiled like a crocodile.

"Eyes up, Flower. Our Roots are here."

A couple of motorcycles parked in front of them.

The first driver removed his helmet, "Happy Reaper?"

"That would be me. Crooked Smile, I presume," Reaper shook hands with Smile.

Smile's partner removed his helmet as well.

"Ah, hello there, Reaper. Who's your friend?"

"I'm called Wilted Flower," Lillian responded.

"How depressing. I'm Noisy Jukebox. Hop on," he invited.

With Reaper boarded on one motorcycle, Lillian felt secure and joined Jukebox.

"How's it back there?" The voice coming from the helmet.

"Hello?" She asked confused.

"These helmets have a wireless radio connection so we can all communicate," he explained.

"Cool, and it's kind of drafty."

"I get it. Hey, if it's not too much trouble, would you mind going out with me? I know-"

"That's not gonna happen. I'm not really looking into getting into a relationship. Sorry," she explained.

She could hear snickering through the speakers.

"Ha, Jukebox, forgot about that little detail, huh? You're one dumb b*****d," Reaper laughed.

Jukebox remained silent for the rest of the trip. Ahead of her, Lillian could tell Reaper and Smile continued to talk by the way Reaper shook his head and used his hands. Ever since she found out he used to be in prison, Lillian had become suspicious of him.

Smile stopped at Wandering Oak's warehouse.

"We'll leave you here. Nice meeting you, Flower," Smile remarked.

"Likewise," she responded with a grin.

They left as Lillian and Reaper entered through a rusty, blue door.

During the day, Wandering Oak was a mess of boxes and assorted cargo of all types. Fork lifts raced about busily while a foreman yelled at the incompetent workers. Reaper led her behind the large crates and away from the chaos. She began to speak but Reaper placed a finger on her lips. He slapped an indistinguishable crate.

To her surprise, it parted down the middle and opened like double doors. Stairs led the way to some underground room. Blocking the doorway was a very wide man.

"Who the f**k are you?"

Lillian took a step back.

"Red Leaf, Happy Reaper. My companion is Green Leaf, Wilted Flower," Reaper answered strongly.

"And who stands at my door?" The man asked, emphasizing the word "my".

"A man who has accepted the oath and grows as his kin do."

He blew air from his nose like an angry bull, "I don't know this one," he hissed, pointing at Lillian.

"I said she was a Green Leaf, didn't I, Spore?"

A single vein appeared on his bald head, "Did I hear Red Leaf!? I should kill you where you stand."

"Calm down, boys. You should know better than that, Lost Merchant," Sad Grenade scolded from behind Merchant.

"Sorry, Mama. I don't know this one and I thought she was bad," he responded in a low volume.

"This little Flower. Why, she wouldn't hurt a fly," she promised.

"Okay, Mama. They can pass?"

"Yes, they can."

Merchant begrudgingly gave ground and let Lillian and Reaper pass. He closed the incognito doors, locking it by rotating some strange circular disks.

"Come, children. We're waiting for the results of your expedition," Grenade beamed excitedly.

Lillian swallowed hard.

The stairs finally ended, opening up to a room resembling the one she saw in the shack.

Grenade sat on a rocking chair, "Jesus, I'm getting too old for those stairs. So tell me, child, what Fruit did you recover from the unfortunate accident?"

Reaper answered, "A golden rosary and a golden Rolex. Also, we came across a rather valuable wallet."

She huffed, "That's quite a lot more than I'd expect you to find. So where is it?"

"We left the findings at Wayward Pine."

She laughed into her fist and wiped her nose, "That's not a Tree! It's just a bundle of sticks."

"Well that's not fair! You sit so comfortably here while House single-handedly tries to salvage scraps down in Matterhorn!" Lillian snapped.

"You forget your place, Green Leaf. THEY chose, insisted, fought, for their Tree. If any ill is done here it's all self-inflicted. That Tree will Wilt. Rest assured, Wilted Flower," she replied fiercely.

A silence fell between them.

Grenade finally spoke, "It'd be best if you took your Leaf elsewhere, Happy Reaper."

"Excuse the disruption, Sad Grenade. Leaves may fall but they always grow back."

She simply waved them away with an impatient hand. Merchant led them back up the stairs and out the doors.

Reaper slammed Lillian against a crate, wrapping one hand around her throat and the other pointing fiercely at her, "You piece of s**t! How dare you raise your f*****g voice at Sad Grenade," his face went red and he trembled with rage, "If I f*****g killed you right now Merchant would just drag your a*s away. YOU F*****G WANT THAT?!"

She tried to shake her head but Reaper's hand held her in place. He ripped away from her and disappeared into the madness of the hollering workers. Lillian broke into hysterical tears. She had never felt so terrified or threatened. It truly felt like Reaper would've murdered her on the spot.

He returned, "Come here, Flower. That was... way out of line."

She fixed her gaze on him.

"Raising your voice," he continued, "against a Trunk could be seen as a threat. Weren't it for your low rank, Merchant wouldn't have hesitated for a second."

"You didn't have to hurt me, Reaper," she squeaked.

With sincere regret, Reaper apologized, "Forgive me, Flower."

Lillian saw the hurt in his eyes, "You scared me. Beyond scared."

"I know and I apologize a thousand times. We gotta go again."

"Where to this time?"

"Don't know any details right now but it's your brother and his girlfriend."

She sniffed, "Okay. Let's go then."

 

They bid farewell to their latest Root, Heavy Knight, whom Lillian believes stunk of cheese and garlic. Pet Dragon, along with his Leaves, waited for them inside a recently closed-off asylum.

"What in the Hell could be so valuable in there?"

He shrugged, "Dragon's the Branch here. He deemed it necessary to investigate."

Reaper tossed his backpack over the barbwire and began to climb. He dropped on the other side unscathed.

"Your turn," he said.

She attempted to toss her backpack but the trajectory aimed it directly into the wire.

"That's gonna be me in a few seconds," she predicted grimly.

He reached into his backpack and handed her a pair of wire cutters through the fence.

"Cut the wires at the top and part them carefully. You can basically let go from up there and I'll catch you."

"Okay, I'll try," she quivered.

Lillian followed Reaper's orders and successfully trespassed.

She fell into his arms.

"Like a damsel in distress," he smirked

Lillian smiled wryly, "Usually the prince is better looking."

He placed her on the ground, "Whatever, you're not my type."

With a dry laugh she responded, "What's your type? Big-b**b blondes?"

"I'm into intelligent girls," he replied as he walked away.

"Oh," she said nodding, "Wait! You a*****e!"

"God you're slow," he chuckled.

Together, they approached the dark, looming building. The windows were boarded over and doors had been padlocked and chained. Lillian couldn't see a single entry way.

Reaper whistled, "This place is ugly as f**k."

True, the building seemed to be a gigantic beast waiting for unwary prey to come within its reach. Dark windows simulated countless eyes glaring angrily at the interlopers.

"How're we supposed to get inside?" Lillian asked.

"I don't know right now. I suppose we gotta wait for the signal," he answered.

Reaper's phone rang, "Yo."

He looked at Lillian.

"Yeah, I have Wilted Flower with me."

Lillian heard chatting on the other line.

"I'm in charge of her."

The voice hollered.

"Well you said bring somebody!"

He threw his hand up.

"Whatever, just tell me where to get in."

He hung up and cursed.

"There should be a forced lock around here," he finally said.

"Is there anything in specific I should look for?"

"Oh, there!" He exclaimed.

She stared at a rather indistinguishable window. Reaper took lead, pulling the window outward and opening it with ease.

Once inside, the overwhelming darkness choked the light out of her world.

"Reaper, I can't see anything," she commented as she walked with her hands out in front.

"Should've brought flashlights, huh?"

She snapped her fingers, "My phone has a flashlight."

Lillian's impromptu torch left them blind until their eyes adjusted.

"What a s**t-hole. I don't think we're gonna find anything here," Reaper mentioned.

With bleak, grey walls and a dirty floor with broken tiles, one couldn't expect to find anything valuable. Flower turned over a rotted table with a cautious foot. It collapsed loudly, exploding in a cloud of dirt.

"Flower! Don't be touching s**t damn it," Reaper barked as he fanned away the dust.

She coughed, "Sorry."

"Shh. You hear that?"

"No."

"Over there."

Lillian pointed her flashlight to where Reaper mentioned.

"Greetings, Leaves," said a bulky Indian.

"Who are you, may I ask?" Lillian requested.

In a deep voice, he replied, "I am Lotus. Pet Dragon is waiting upstairs. Come."

Reaper fell in behind Lotus, signaling Lillian to follow.

"We have not recovered Fruit, Reaper. But Dragon discovered the most curious…" Lotus left unfinished.

"A what?" Flower asked.

He turned to Lillian, "You will see when we arrive, Green Leaf."

After ascending a few levels, they arrived to where Dragon had settled his team.

They sat in a rough circle around flashlights placed on the ground and pointing at the ceiling.

"I have with me Happy Reaper and Wilted Flower, Dragon," Lotus said.

Dragon stood on his feet, "Reaper! How's my sister treating you?"

"She's quite a little go-getter," he replied.

"Flower, come around and say hi to the troupe," Dragon invited.

He introduced the group, still seated around the flashlights, "This is Riot, a newbie from Pine, the blonde one is my Sleepy Lady, and you know Fuego there. Also Lotus but you already met him."

Flower beamed, "You're from Matterhorn? Do you know Dashboard King?"

The ginger girl smiled, "Why, yeah I do! He's my cousin. Also, I took his place as Wandering Oak's Leaf."

"Wait. You know each other?" Dragon asked.

"Not really, but sorta," Riot replied.

Reaper cut in, "Back to the matter at hand, Dragon: what are we doing here? In case you haven't noticed, this is a f*****g waste of time."

"Chill," Dragon requested, "I know this place doesn't look like much but there just so happens to be something we need to uncover behind this hospital."

"It better be good, or I'm taking Flower and getting the hell out," Reaper warned.

"Tell them, Lady."

She walked to Reaper and Flower, "How good is your knowledge of Extra-human history?"

They both shrugged.

"Well, here in Hoover the appearance of these people is an accepted norm, you follow?"

They both nodded.

"The Horseshoe Institution of Neurosurgery and Research, the building we're standing in, held a somewhat infamous, or famous depending on who you ask, patient in their West Wing.

His name was Franklin ---- but he also went by the call sign Dark Horse."

"Wait, this man, whoever he is, was also a Leaf?" Flower asked.

"No. The Trunk, Soaring Eagle, recruited him solely as a Spore about 20 years ago. Dark Horse went about his vigilante duties without the use of the title but Eagle deemed it necessary to make him an ally.

"Anyways, Dark Horse suffered a nervous breakdown as a result of his 'gift' backfiring," she added.

"What does this have anything to do with us, Lady? Did he bury a treasure then forget about it?" Reaper said rudely.

Dragon snapped, "If you'd let her finish then she'll explain."

Sleepy Lady waited before continuing, "As I was saying, Dark Horse's brain had an uncanny memory storing process, understanding even the most complicated sequences, and being able to replicate results that would require intense training. Basically, he copied and stored information like a computer," she elaborated.

"So he completely eliminated the concept of practice?" Flower asked.

"Now you're starting to get it. But, like a computer may store corrupt information, Dark Horse's personality completely ripped itself into hundreds of entities."

"With the help of a Leaf on the inside, we managed to get our hands on a briefing report. The report went on to say that some unknown event had transpired inside the Institution, resulting in the disappearances of the staff team and the patients," Dragon stated.

"But the confusing part of this is that attached to the report are the only pieces of evidence: the daily log of a patient also suffering from multiple personality disorder," Lady said.

"Can we see those logs?" Reaper asked.

"We have them with Clock. But the log describes the first patient to go missing is one named Frank. This Frank is our Dark Horse," Lady answered.

Fuego called everyone's attention, "S**t, there's someone outside."

Through the boarded windows, they could see several black cars parked in front of the entrance.

"Are they Leaves?" Reaper asked.

Dragon shook his head, "No one else is on this mission."

Powerful fog lights beamed on their position.

From a megaphone they heard, "Warning! You and your party are trespassing on private property. We advise you to exit with your hands on your head and to surrender any weapons. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated."

"Balls," Dragon whispered, "It looks like we gotta give them the Ghost," He pointed at Fuego, "You're the Ghost this time."

"Seriously?" Fuego complained.

"Go."

Flower went after him.

"No, stay and watch," Dragon ordered.

She went to a window and watched as Fuego entered the harsh light. He looked like a hypnotized boy about to be abducted by aliens.

Even though he stood before them, they used the megaphone to communicate, "Where are your companions?"

She strained to hear what he replied: "I'm the only one."

Finally, someone stepped from the vehicle.

He was a stout, thick man in a black suit with a pair of handcuffs clinging to his utility belt. Fuego turned around with his hands behind his back. The man cuffed him, taking him back to the car.

"Dragon, that wasn't supposed to happen, right?"

"Keep watching," he said without taking his eyes away from the window.

The car Fuego was taken into lurched forward, ramming the one in front of it; then flew into reverse and crushed the front end of the car behind it. Several people left their vehicles and opened fire on Fuego. With a great whir of the engine, he sped away; his attackers gave chase, leaving a few behind in a dusty daze.

"Now would be a good time, Lotus," Dragon said.

He nodded, headed down the stairs, and appeared outside. The remaining men attempted to apprehend Lotus but he shrugged them off as if they were children. Even the effects of a taser gun weren't enough to detain him. After his opponents were defeated, Lotus whistled sharply.

"We're gonna have to come back at a later date," Dragon said downheartedly.

"What about Fuego? Shouldn't we help him?" Flower asked.

"He's the youngest Branch recorded in almost 150 years of Wandering Oak history. He's more than capable," he said proudly.

"Well, s**t, we better go before we get our asses handed to us by the feds," Reaper suggested.

"Heavy Knight is still in the area. But it would be safer to contact one more root," Dragon commented.

"This is Samurai Fraülein's turf," Lady added, "We found ourselves in a bad neighborhood and I doubt Knight's available anymore."

"This is quite a pickle," Lady continued as she directed everyone to the stairs, "So let's just take one of those cars down there."

Lotus stood outside, recently finishing the task of handcuffing the men to each other.

"You drive, Flower," Dragon directed.

After everyone had boarded the vehicle, Flower put it in drive and gently rolled over the gravel.

"Step on it, Flower, and ram that fence down!" Reaper shouted.

She did just that, taking down the chain-linked fence.

Sleepy Lady sighed, "There's a gate, you know."

"But I thought it would be cool," Reaper replied.

"And it was! We should crash into stuff more often," Flower suggested excitedly.

"More importantly, do you know how to get to Wandering Oak?" Dragon asked.

"No. I do not," she answered.

"I'll drive, Flower," Reaper stated.

Flower stopped, exited the car, and let him take the wheel all the way to Wandering Oak's warehouse.

"Fuego Blanco is missing?" Clock asked when they arrived.

"Yes, sir. We chose him as the Ghost and he did his job excellently," Dragon replied.

"You're on thin ice, Branch. If Fuego doesn't return by sunrise, I'll personally strip you of your rank," Clock threatened.

Lady intervened, "Clock, do you doubt Fuego's ability?"

"You overestimate him. Remember that he's still a boy," Clock advised.

"Did your little side-mission bear any Fruit?" Clock asked.

Reaper cleared his throat, "Yes, sir. Lady advised we commandeer a vehicle, which we ultimately used to get back here instead of summoning another Root," Dragon answered.

"Sleepy Lady always managed to be the most level-headed of any team," Clock commented, "And why didn't you search for a Root?"

"Seeing as we were in Samurai Fraülein's territory, bringing in another Root or Leaf would've brought more risk to an already risky mission," she answered confidently.

Clock raised his eyebrows, "I actually forgot that was Fraülein's stomping ground. You are all very lucky that Sad Grenade isn't here."

Clock continued, "Well, listen up. Fuego is a very competent Leaf, and I doubt he's in trouble. But I'll have Metal Fool take a gander at the car you brought. There must be a radio or a computer on board he can reverse-engineer. Anyways, feel free to leave when you like and get a hold of Hungry Bat when Fuego reports in. Got it?"

Together, they bid farewell, "Leaves may fall but they always grow back."

Once outside, the morning sun poked its rays through the methane and skyscrapers. Groggy workers had begun to arrive, punching in for their daily dollar.

Pet Dragon, Sleepy Lady, and Riot parted from Flower and Reaper, leaving in a very familiar cab.

"Well, Wilted Flower, you didn't do bad for a first run," Reaper complimented as they walked down the boardwalk.

"Thanks. And who is this Fraülein person everyone keeps mentioning?"

"Oh yeah. I still have a lot to explain, huh? Okay, Samurai Fraülein used to be a Seed, one in charge of establishing a new Tree. She did just that with the help of another Seed, True Idol. Things were going great until Fraülein began introducing drugs as a Fruit. A short civil war ignited inside Graceful Redwood. She assassinated Idol and his followers, successfully taking full control of the Tree. Spore were sent in to eradicate the menace, resulting in the destruction of Fraülein. Unfortunately, a few managed to escape and rebuild the Tree into a Machine, led by one who calls herself Der Krieg Hime or The War Princess."

"If Fraülein's dead then why do you still refer to the area as hers?" She asked.

"Because that turf doesn't belong to Hime. She's an opportunist who wears other people's success as her own."

"Why don't the Spore attack again? To get rid of her, I mean."

"Because Hime is very sloppy about her work and her clandestine shops are constantly being raided. Every time something hits the fan, Wandering Oak is there to pick up Hime's mess. We manage to take a lot of money back from her operations," he explained.

"Were these the people that killed Ranger and Jose?"

"That I don't know. But it's best to not mention those two Roots," he replied, "Especially in front of your brother," he added.

She stopped and leaned against the dock railing, "How long have you been a Leaf?"

Reaper joined her, "How long? Hmm, for 10-ish years. Since I was 27."

Her eyebrows went up, "You're that old?"

He chuckled, "C'mon, I wanna show you something."

Reaper took her by the hand, hauling her against the current of workers. Several men scolded them and told them off. They ducked under forklifts and dodged swinging cargo until Reaper stopped at a metal ladder. It led up one side of a shipping container.

"Up."

And so they went, up several container ladders to the summit of the metal mountain.

"Wow! You can see all the way to Charlie's Island!" Flower exclaimed.

"On clear days, one can even see Cubans on the coast," Reaper joked.

She sat on the edge of the container, draping her legs over, "This place is cool. How'd you find it?"

Reaper followed suit, "Well, I found it when I was on the lam. My orange prison suit blended well against some of these containers."

"Does everything remind you of your prison break?" She asked bleakly.

He sighed deeply, "I don't like much of my prison life or what came before it. No one knows I'm alive, Flower. But it hardly gets to me since no one misses me."

"Damn. You're a touchy m**********r."

They shared a laugh.

"Hey! Get down from there!" Someone yelled from below.

"S**t, let's head down before he goes into a b***h fit," Reaper directed.

After avoiding the foreman and his impending b***h fit, Reaper led Flower away from the docks.

"What an a*s! Right? Anyways, don't tell your brother that I let you go up there, okay?"

"Okay. I'll keep that in mind."

"And I'll keep you covered, for now. Anyways, that's enough for today. You should be getting home; I heard they began operations down at the West Bank," he remarked.

"Oh yeah, no sweat. I'll see you around?"

"You'll have to, Flower. I'm your boss."

 

"Ms. Grassman! Where is that forward I've been waiting for?" Wright demanded from his office.

She snapped from her daydream, "Oh... It's... Um..."

"I need it today, Ms. Grassman."

Her desk, usually spotless, was now overrun with late errands, stacked forms, and coffee rings. She finally located the requested sheet.

"I've found it, Mr. Wright!" She said as she went past the glass doors.

He gave her an annoyed look, one that reminded her of Sad Grenade.

"I strongly suggest you clean my doors if you find the time. And straighten out your desk; it's a complete disaster," he ordered.

"Yes, sir. Is there anything else you need?"

"No, Ms. Grassman. You may leave."

She turned around briskly, feeling his perverted eyes on her as she left.

When she sat, her mess seemed to loom over her, a daunting mountain of incomplete forms and muffin crumbles.

Lillian's head throbbed fiercely by the time she arrived at her home. With Shark fed, a shower completed, Lillian collapsed on her bed, which had remained undone. Sleep, with its gentle constriction, stole her away to restful, dreamless sleep.

One week later…

Her phone alerted her of a message.

She read: Wilted Flower, Winter will be waiting for you as usual. You have 10 minutes.

Still half-asleep, she didn't notice urgency in the request nor did she question who sent the message; she simply acquired a flashlight, pepper spray, and athletic shoes, proceeding outside to the designated area.

Just as the message had said, Winter's taxi idled by the curb. The outside chill succeeded in fully awakening Flower.

She sat next to Winter, "Caught me napping."

He smiled, "Yeah, you still have a bit of drool there, Flower.

She quickly turned away.

"Is it gone now?"

He nodded.

"Where to, Winter?"

Seeming to have nearly forgotten, he answered, "We're going for Happy Reaper first."

She frowned, sticking out her lower lip like usual.

"Better get used to him, Flower. He's your Sun."

"Sun, that which helps Leaves grow, right?", she assimilated.

"Very good, Flower. Sun is the title given to Brown Leaves who want to ascend to the rank Branch. Reaper was an exception to that rule."

"He must be something else."

"Indeed, Flower."

Flower asked, "Winter, why'd you choose that call sign?"

He chuckled, "I'm from southern Arizona, Flower. Phoenix specifically. We hardly have a 'winter'.

"The first true winter I encountered was when I moved to Chicago, truly mesmerizing. The snow hypnotized me. It was like stepping into another world. But this world had come to me instead, waiting at my doorstep every morning."

"Wow, and that's why you're called Winter."

"Correct," he stated, "Why'd you choose 'Wilted Flower'?"

She choked on her first words, "Well, it felt right when I first said it. Still does, too. Were you a Root in Phoenix and Chicago?"

"Why, yes. Back in Arizona, our Tree was a Cactus, Wise Saguaro, Leaves were Needles, Trunks were still Trunks though. Our Spore were referred to as Cazador, which are wasps that hunt tarantulas. In Chicago, our Tree was Looming Willow"

"And a Root is called what in a Cactus?"

"The same. Needles followed rank by Yellow, White, Grey, and Black. Our Branches were Arms," he elaborated.

"Wait, so you changed your name?"

"From Hunted Snake to Winter."

"I didn't know you could do that."

"Rarely, Flower, rarely."

Rain helped fill in the silence with its customary symphony of onomatopoeia.

A single silhouette stood out in the strengthening rain; it raised both arms and waved.

Winter pulled up beside a soaked Reaper.

"Jesus, where the hell did that come from? The sky was clear then this," he complained as he entered.

"Good to see you too, Happy Reaper," Winter said.

"How's it, Flower? Sleep well?"

"I tried," she said with a sigh.

He laid down, "Get used to it, Flower. It'll only get worse. I'm gonna take a nap, yeah?"

"Whose the other Leaf, Reaper?" Winter asked.

With his eyes still closed, "Wounded Champion, the Yellow Leaf. Another one of my people. He's waiting at the Art Center."

Flower looked at Winter.

"He has other dependents. A total of 3, including you," Winter explained.

Beautiful arcs connoted the Art Center. Complicated, distinct statues guarded Hoover's prime Art Gallery and Museum. One of the statues moved, signaling the Root.

A muscular, thick Hispanic man sat with Reaper.

They spoke between each other before turning their attention to Flower.

"This is my other dependent: Wounded Champion," Reaper introduced.

Slick, gelled hair adorned his head, and a leather jacket kept his white undershirt dry; a golden rosary hung around his neck. To Flower, he resembled John Travolta from Grease.

"Hey, Flower. It's nice to meet you," he offered his hand.

She shook, "Likewise."

"Okay, I'm gonna take a nap," Reaper stated.

Finally, Winter arrived at what Flower assumed was the destination.

"We're here, Reaper," Winter said.

He yawned, "Cool. Thanks, Winter. You may leave now; we won't be bothering you anymore."

After everyone had left the taxi, Winter left with a wave.

They sought refuge from the rain underneath an awning.

"What now?" Flower asked.

"We stand outside of downtown's corporate park. You work around here, right?" Reaper asked.

She surveyed her surroundings, "No doubt. This is the Six Foot Café where we get our daily 'joe'."

Reaper led them across the street to the West Bank's entrance. The doors, equipped with the latest in security technology, easily opened as Reaper let himself in; Flower followed behind wordlessly. Light, natural and artificial, shone through the skylight and onto the waiting area, casting the strange shadows of the raindrops racing down the glass.

Despite having walked through the room countless times, on this occasion, Flower felt unwelcomed, as if afraid to be caught red-handed.

Sensing her uneasiness, Reaper whispered, “Chill, Flower, we're not hiding a body or anything."

"Yeah, just follow us, and it'll be alright," Champion added.

"You brought a flashlight this time, Flower?" Reaper asked.

She snapped her fingers, "I actually did! Almost forgot about it."

Reaper clicked it on, banishing the opaque ghosts that ran down the French windows.

"We're headed to a Norman Wright's office, know where that is?"

"Duh, he's my boss. It's just this way."

He let her pass, "Ladies first."

She smirked.

"Look, we'll have to walk a few floors before we get there."

They followed.

5 stories later, Flower and her followers stood at Wright's office door.

"Is that your workstation?" Champion pondered.

"I'm usually pretty tidy but-"

Reaper cut her off, "Later, Flower; we have business to attend to."

Wright's doors easily opened as he pushed them apart.

Aren't those usually locked? Flower thought silently.

Wright's over-sized table dominated the office while a leather chair sat directly before it, and a few office seats held back by the doors; the office had its white, plastic shutters up, revealing the glass walls and a view of a dormant, depressed city-scape.

"Take a seat, Champion, Flower; I won't take long," Reaper requested before effortlessly opening the desk drawers, which should also be locked. He rifled through files and folders before coming back to his apprentices.

"Let's head out, servants."

As they advanced through the building with only their footsteps as company, Flower felt the air turn frigid, a sensation she accredited to a combination between her still-moist clothing and the air-conditioned building. Yet, the goosebumps formed along her arms and the darkness never ceased its onslaught on her senses.

"Dude, is this chick always so tense? It's unnerving," Champion questioned as they reached the first floor.

"Ignore her, okay?" Reaper snapped.

"But the feeling is appropriate, wouldn't you say?" A forth voice added.

In sync, the trio turned on their heels.

From the shadows, a dark figure rested on the plush couches of the waiting room, feet placed nonchalantly on a coffee table.

"Stress can cause actively raise your blood pressure, did you know that?" the voice inquired.

"How did you know we would be here?" Reaper demanded.

With an unamused tone, "Only idiots respond a question with another question," he shook his finger, "But I should ask you the same, little Reaper."

Having heard the voice enumerable times, Flower recognized the speaker.

"And I see you have Lillian back there. How is my honey buns?"

She didn't reply.

"Fine, be like that."

"Enough!" Reaper barked, "Leave now, Crawling Grass."

He gasped, "What an honor! Or is that just a nomination? Because to be called THAT, I must have done an excellent job!"

Champion drew a pistol, training it on Teddy.

"Now, now. That's not very nice. Aren't guns against the rules?"

"Kill him," Reaper commanded coldly.

The gun fired 6 reports; the shadow's head lolled forward, bringing the body down in a crumpled heap.

"Perhaps the deadliest game of hide and seek you've ever seen," Teddy taunted, "That is if you can see me!"

Laughter exploded directly in Flower's face, "Pepper spray again?!"

Shocked, she fell back, scurrying away into a corner.

"I studied ventriloquism, Flower!" He exclaimed with maniacal laughter, "Behold my 'dummy'!"

An overhead lantern revealed the twitching corpse huddled in a small pool of blood.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Amazing Theodore and his accomplice, Dashboard King!" Teddy teased from the darkness.

Champion cornered Flower, standing defensively by her; Reaper was no where in sight.

She squinted, vying desperately to catch a glimpse of movement.

More cackles ran through the room, but these further away than previously.

"Champion, where's Reaper?" Flower peeped.

He stuttered out, "I... I'm not sure."

"Where's Teddy?"

"That's harder to answer."

Despite his obvious fear, Champion kept his gun leveled, waiting for a chance to open fire.

"Cheater!" Teddy's voice bellowed fiercely, "That's cheating! Stop!"

The pistol flew out of his hands, ripping off Champion's index finger.

"Blood! The glorious blood!" Teddy screeched.

Showing adverse courage, he unsheathed a dagger, huddling closer to Flower.

He whispered, "We have to make a run for it. On my signal."

The glass table and various frames along the wall exploded simultaneously in a fine spray.

"Go," Champion signaled.

Together, they sprinted to the exit.

"You forgot something! This corpse isn't going to move itself!" Teddy yelled after them.

Outside, the rain had begun to fall in sheets. Champion seized Flower's hand, tugging her along as they fled.

Flower yelled over the roaring torrent, "We need to get to a hospital!"

"I'm okay. Do you have a phone?"

"Yes," she handed it to him.

He led her to a bus stop, away from the raging water.

"Hungry Bat? It's Yellow Leaf, Wounded Champion. We need help fast. Please send a Root for transportation and a Spore, too. Thank you."

He turned to Flower, "They're sending help. Everything will be alright."

"Reaper's still back there!" She cried.

Champion turned back to Flower with eyes full of helplessness and anguish, "We can't do anything for him! I... I... can't..."

The emotion in his expression drained the last bit of hope she had.

He attempted to inspire her, "Listen, we'll be okay. I told the Root to arrive with a Spore. We just gotta wait. Okay?"

He nudged her and smiled,

"Yeah? C'mon, let's keep moving."

Their wait ended when a lifted, black Ford pulled alongside the bus stop.

"Hop in, Flower! I'm the Root Hungry Bat sent," the man stated.

"No, she's Wilted Flower. I'm Wounded Champion," he corrected as he climbed into the tall truck.

He took Flower's hand and hoisted her.

Flower took her seat, "Thank you so much."

The Root stepped on the gas, "My name's Royal Mouse. As you asked, I brought along Pistol Fist, a Spore."

The other man sat silently, ‘ominously’, Flower thought.

"He's not a talker, but don't let him bum you out," he added, "Anyways, where's the Branch?"

Champion stopped to form his words, "I'm afraid we lost contact after an encounter with a Crawling Grass."

He smacked the wheel, "What a pain. Another Branch lost. With him, it'll be a total of 19 Branches gone."

Champion and Flower shared a glance.

"Operations are being cancelled due to the disappearances," the dark man spoke in a deep, baritone voice, "Even the Death Cap Mushroom lost a few Spores."

He sounded ashamed.

As they went under a light post, Flower recognized the Root, "Hey, Mouse, have I seen you somewhere?"

Without taking his eyes off the road, he replied, "I don't doubt it. I work as a UPS delivery man during the day."

She snapped her fingers, "You're the guy that delivers to the West bank, no? I'm Lillian Grassman."

He thought hard for a second, his eyebrows furrowing, "Oh, Wright's secretary huh? Sorry, I see a lot of faces during my routines."

"No sweat. I just wanted to clarify."

Mouse's phone rang, "Here, Fist, answer please."

He took the phone, "Hello? No, this is Spore, Pistol Fist. I will let him know."

He addressed Mouse, "Urgent message. We have to be at 13 W. Buchanan to oversee a ferry headed for Cuba. The team in charge hasn't responded."

"What about these guys?"

Fist regarded Flower and Champion like hindrances, "We will have to bring them."

"Sorry, peeps, detour."

The truck's engine roared busily, propelling itself through the rainy night to an uncertain encounter.

“Why, what’s up?” Champion asked.

“Well, I don’t know, friend. But I’m sure we’ll find out when we get there, right?” Mouse answered cheerfully.

13 W. Buchanan ended with a bleak tarmac with no sign of any contacts; a ferry rocked silently by the docks.

“Ah,” Mouse exclaimed, “I know this place. It used to be the sight of some old S.A.M. missile silos during the Cuban Missile Crisis. They were dismantled long ago and this is all that’s left.”

“But shouldn’t there be someone here to receive us?” Champion wondered.

Mouse squinted through the pouring rain, “Come to think about, there seems to be a car parked by the ferry.”

“Look, more are coming this way,” Flower noticed.

Four black cars pulled alongside the truck, effectively boxing it in. In unison, they rolled down their windows, drew their weapons, and opened fire, concentrating on the driver, the wheels, and the engine.

After their clips were exhausted, 6 gunmen exited their respective cars. They smashed the truck's windows, pulling out the Leaves onto the cold ground and force them to kneel.

Flower flinched as the barrel pressed against her scalp, "Who are you people?"

"Shut the f**k up!" The woman demanded.

With a roar, Fist engaged the men, overpowering the four used to detain him. Champion followed the action, wrestling with his own opponent for the pistol. He wrenched it away and shot the man in the thigh. The woman over Flower pistol-whipped Champion, rendering him unconscious. Instinct took over, Flower tackled the woman, knocking the gun clear from reach; she took Champion's weapon.

Slippery from the rain, Flower's fingers fumbled the pistol's safety off.

The woman laughed, "Stupid b***h. You don't have the guts to use that s**t."

The wind caused her green mohawk to flutter wildly against her tattooed skull. Flower turns away briefly to review Champion and Mouse's status. Both were unconscious but still breathing. A wound on Mouse's abdomen stained his white shirt dark red while the edges were pink; Pistol Fist barely held his own against the mob.

"I'm over here, c**t," the obscene woman hissed.

Flower raised the pistol, breathing slowly and deeply.

In her head, one of Reaper's lessons played, a lesson she never mentioned to Dragon.

-Take a deep breath, Flower. With every exhale, cast away one worry, one thought.

-What if I can't?

-You'll have yourself to blame for your indecision and what ever happens, happens. Remember what I say, Flower: I won't always be there to protect you, neither will the Spore or Dragon or anyone except yourself. But 'you' is all you need.

"I am all I need," she whispered as she leveled the gun.

The woman saw the seriousness in her eyes, "Okay, that's enough. It'll just get worse if you resist."

Flower exhaled slowly, cocking the gun.

"Put that gun down," she commanded shakily.

The round found its mark, marking a pinprick as its entry point but leaving a bloody crater as it exited. Rusty Razor twitched on the tarmac before going still.

The churning moshpit around Fist stopped to see Flower, giving him the chance to turn the tables and incapacitated the aggressors.

He ran to Flower, hoisting her on his shoulder, "We have to get to that boat!"

Fist sprinted as if she were weightless, vaulting over the dock's railing and onto the ferry.

"Listen, Flower, we have to ride it out for a bit. Let's hide under this tarp."

Flower followed his orders without a second word.

“I’m taking you far away, Flower. It’s not safe here anymore.”

Author's Note

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