[h3]Maxwell Smithson[/h3]

"And a good eve to you Mr Luther!" said Max warmly as he left the shop, new parts in hand. Tonight his automation would be fully realized. But first, home. 

Maxwell strode down the cobbled streets briskly, pausing every second or third step to glance up at the sky. Night was fast approaching, and something in the air told Maxwell he didn't want to be out late tonight. As Maxwell quickened his step he looked at the buildings passing on his left and right; faded, old things, monuments to a time long forgotten. [i]Strange that I should call this place home, given the nature of my work.[/i] He shrugged to nobody in particular in response to his musings, and smiled softly. Gate would get a laugh from that later. As her name entered his mind, an image of the doll smiling widely flashed before his eyes. She had been his companion for more years than he could count, and a surprisingly invaluable assistant in his workshop. The doll had a knack for mechanics, even if she did tend to blow a few things up here and there. He shook his bag of parts with a grin, the clanking sound echoing down the deserted street; she certainly would have fun with these. He could almost picture her face now, bright and cheery and...

A low, dangerous growl cut through the silence, snapping Maxwell from his thoughts. He paused, frowning. Silence. Perhaps it had been his imagination...The sound came again, closer now, more aggressive. Maxwell turned, slowly, ever so slowly to his right. What greeted him was a sight that was all too common these days. A feral dog was poised over the corpse of some poor soul unlucky enough to be caught up in the recent wave of violence that had swept the city. Maxwell took a cautious step back, his clothes brushing softly against his skin at the force of a cool breeze. Another step, and another. The dog turned, content that Maxwell was no threat. He didn't need to be told twice, and dashed down the cobbled street, not daring to stop until he reached the low, faded door that marked the entrance to his workshop.

As he pushed open the creaking door, he peered at the chaotic mess that littered every inch of his workspace. Parts had been strewn around the room with abandon, and Maxwell couldn't help but smile.[i] Home sweet home.[/i] Closing the door firmly, he peered into the clutter, searching for his companion. 

[b]"Gate?! Where are you?! I have the parts! We can finish my automation at last!"[/b]

[h3]Cracker[/h3]

Cracker opened his eyes with a yawn, looking around him bleary-eyed. Last night had simply been a whirlwind of fun; fire, anger, and running, lots and lots of running. He gave a hearty chuckle, and rose uncertainly to his feet, peering into the gloom to discern his surroundings.

The sight that greeted Cracker was certainly one he was used to. A dirty alley, coated with grime and filth, had played host to Cracker last night after he had passed out in a gutter. Cracker glanced over his body, running his hands over his torso. Everything was still there. Arms, good. Feet, very good. He frowned. Everything seemed to be there, all the important parts anyway, but he couldn't help feel like he was missing something. Food? No. His toys? Nope. Something else, something vital. Wait, not something, someone! The damned kid! Cracker cursed loudly and stumbled down the alley, kicking over a few boxes in his anger. If she wasn't sleeping nearby, that usually meant trouble, and not the kind of trouble that Cracker liked either. He broke into a run, his eyes narrowing; she was a damned nuisance, but he supposed he had to keep her alive if he wanted to stay anchored to the world. 

As he scaled the side of the building, Cracker cursed loudly. There had been no sign of the kid all day, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was getting worried. As he reached the summit of the grey rectangle that marked a building, he threw himself onto the roof with a groan. He wasn't built for this much climbing. Staring up at the blue-black sky, he raised a hand in front of his face. Instantly the oppressive darkness of the approaching night vanished, replaced by a dancing flame. He stared at the spark for several moments, admiring the beauty of it's simplicity. Fire was dependable, and reliable, which was more than could be said for the girl he was hunting. If he had known how much effort it would take to look after her, he never would have anchored to her; his powers were much too fun to waste on saving her sleepy ass every five minutes. He sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time that day, and rose to his feet. Just as he moved to scale back down the building and continue his search, a scream pierced the air. Cracker allowed himself the first real grin of the day; he'd know the scream anywhere.

In just a few brief moments, Cracker had sprinted to the source of the scream and was watching curiously from the shadows as two men tried to shove pills at Ein. He struggled to suppress a laugh, knowing that their plan was doomed to failure. After all, he had tried similar tactics numerous times, all to no avail. As the men raised their weapons, Cracker decided that he had better step in at last. He shot a quick jet of flame from his hands, aiming it towards the men's hands. As the men collapsed on the ground, screaming in pain and their weapons rendered useless, Cracker turned to Ein and shook his head slowly.

[b]"What'd you do this time, kid?"[/b]