It was wet. 
The rain soaked everything, not a single alley, sewer or hole was dry. The dark clouds above New London had barraged the grey city in a constant flood of ice cold droplets that felt like small needles whenever they hit your skin. It had been like this for so long that the innocent mind of the young southern-european girl that made her way through the rain soaked streets could barely remember the warmth of the sun. It wasn’t the wetness that irked her the most, no the rain she could live with - in fact she prefered the rain and the darkness: it was so much easier to move around without being noticed, especially if you were a ‘Rat’: someone who belonged to the streets of this Godforsaken city. No the thing she couldn’t deal with was the bone chilling cold. She could feel how each little droplet of rain, how each small gust of the ice cold wind tore away at her skin, digging their way into her body in order to break her. 
She closed her eyes for a brief second to shield her young eyes from a gust of ice cold wind that blew through the small alley she was running through. It was one of the safe routes through the city: there were no Spectres, no slaves and no lunatics: it was one of the many roads the Rats used to move around the city, however it was never wise to forget the world they lived in and as such they were use to walk with caution - after all who knew what was around the next corner or lurking in the shadows?
The girl didn’t bother considering this further, not that night. She was carrying far too precious cargo and she had no time to be cautious.
She turned around the next corner with great speed and luckily for her it was another empty rain soaked alley: the red building blocks of the buildings on each side added a bit of color to the otherwise grey world and at the very end an old shimmering light painted the world around it in a calming light. A few dumpsters stood on each side with a number of ladders hanging from the walls and a single lightbulb hung a few paces down, showering the nearest objects in a warm glimmering glow - however the girl didn’t bother with any of the details, all she cared about was her next step: would she end up in a dead-end, or would the street lead her into a way out?
A noise behind her caught her attention - perhaps she was actually being followed? Fighting the urge to look back and confirm her fears she soldiered on, pressing her legs to move faster than before as she turned around the left corner at the end of the alley and - rather luckily she added silently to herself - another open alley, however, she didn’t rest to check if she was still being followed, no instead she kept going; turning into another street and hurrying her way through the dark alleys of New London - afterall, you could never be too certain of your own safety in the world she lived in, where every second story was of a disappearance. 

The little girl had no idea how long she kept running, each new street turned into another and for most people they would look roughly the same in the atmosphere of the rainy night - however for one of those that inhabited the lower realms of New London it was quite easy to find their way around, even among the roads that only rats inhibited [i]- which was likely also the reason they nicknamed themselves that[/i] the little girl mused to herself as she crawled into one of the open sewer holes and disappeared from the upper world. 
As soon as her feet touched the bottom of the sewers and her dark boots penetrated the surface of water and human waste the little girl felt instantly safe. She had lived most of her life - and all of it she could remember - down here in the sewers together with the rest of the ‘sane’ people. To her she never felt more at home than when she was covered in the darkness and away from the light above the ground - this also meant that she began to walk more slowly, albeit never slowing down to a casual walk, as she made her way through the maze that only the ‘Rats’ knew. After a little while a buzzing began to nibble at her hearing. It was a noise she knew all too well: it was the sound of ‘home’.
As she turned the last corner she entered into a larger space that extended for miles deep underneath the city above: she had been told that it had been a water reservoir in the old days  where excess water would be steered into to avoid flooding, however because of new technology it was rarely, if ever, used. Instead those that had fled from the light above had built a platform high above the reservoir floor below in order to ward off any possibility of future floodings. This was made of an intrinsic entanglement of wood, metal and plastic that together created a roughly even floor for people to walk, sit, sleep and live on. In the many years the little girl had lived there she had seen her fair share of accidents, but none of them would have happened if the victims had been a bit more careful - or at least that was her young brain’s conclusion, but nonetheless, what was important was that the little girl had never experienced any danger from living here. 
In order to live more comfortable down under ground the inhabitants of the nameless-town had put of camp lights that ran off of either gasoline or batteries - depending on what was easiest to get their hands on at the time - and tents: either homemade from scrap or actual camping tents for those that were lucky to have gotten their hands on some. The last part came off as a sour-tasting thought in the young girl’s mind: she was one of the inhabitants that lived in a ‘scrap-tent’ made out of different materials - although if she had to be honest it was a nice enough place to call ‘home’.
As she entered the place she had lived for the last 8 years of her life through the curtain-door the the semi-darkness once again enveloped her as her ‘family’ - or rather: her foster family - didn’t bother keeping their rooms lit all the time as some of the other families. Instead they relied on the glow from a single lamp in the middle of the, albeit rather small, room. As the little girl entered her foster mother and her foster brother/friend looked up. Her ‘mother’ had always been a big woman with a strong body and a similarly strong mind. She was the kind of person that garnered respect for those around her and could set her mind to everything, but somehow still kept a warm heart. The boy that had come to live with them a little over a year ago was just the opposite: he had somehow survived with a rather weak body and a mind that mirrored this weakness - however the young girl couldn’t help but worry about him, which had also been the root for her little expedition into the outer-world she had just come back from: he desperately needed medicine. 
She returned their smiles, albeit a not as energetic as theirs, and strode the last few paces to their sides before she crouched down and pulled her backpack around her back and dropped it onto the floor between them.
“So,” her ‘Mother started out, “what did you get?”
A cheeky smile formed at the edges of the young girl’s mouth before she answered. “Oh you won’t believe this!” she exclaimed with a hint of childish excitement. “I had to go through hell to get it, but I actually managed to get my hands on this!” As she spoke the last word she dramatically revealed what her hand had been grasping since she had settled down: a medical kit. The relief on both of their faces was palpable, and it was a clear indication that she had done the right thing that had helped others - something the young girl had quickly become almost addicted to. This craving for helping those in needs was also what had made her take another big change on her trip.
“But that is not all,” she dramatically added before she slowly lifted up a dark brown packaging.
“Chocolate!” the little boy exclaimed full of excitement,  before adding with little concern in his voice “how did you get that!?”
The young girl didn’t answer first, but instead just revealed a big grin on her face. “Oh, you know,” she added smugly, “I got my ways”
The boy gave her an enchanting smile that spread into his eyes making them shine with a mixture of respect, wonder and exhilaration. “Thanks!” he exclaimed, “you always take such good care of us, Mel”

Melanie jolted up from her position on the ground, her right hand covering her chest as her heart pounded loudly inside of her, while her left hand covered her open mouth almost as if she was trying to cover a scream or hold back the content of her stomach - however no content, nor scream erupted from her mouth, instead she sat still on the cold mat and clutched her arms around her legs as she pressed them against her chest to fill the smallest space possible. 
Melanie had never been one to cry, instead she had always been the kind of person that would always use brute force - or in worst case scenarios run away to escape her own feelings and because of this she didn’t let herself succumb to tears. Instead she sat for herself for what felt like an eternity, her mind constantly running in circles around the memories she had just conjured in her dreams: it was a memory of a long lost past where she had survived at the bottom of society in the darkness that hid them from sight of the bright world above. A past that had been much more simple and while it certainly hadn’t been easy, it had been a time of happiness for Melanie. 
She lost the touch of time as she pondered over how her life had become such a mess and it wasn’t until a small rustle caught her attention. Suddenly she became aware of her surroundings - and more specifically the person sitting not too far away from her. Looking up she saw that this [i]person[/i] was Henry. 
Melanie couldn’t be sure what he had been doing, or how long he had been awake for. She didn’t know if he had seen her in her vulnerable state, but she did know that she couldn’t take that risk again: she had to strengthen herself and never show those around her the weaknesses that corrupted her heart. She steeled herself a little as she shifted her body a little to get into a more upright sitting position. She cleared her throat a little as she readied herself for speaking in her usual manner.
“So,” keeping her voice as close to her usual casually and lighthearted tone as she possibly could, “are you being a nice little Runner and keeping a close eye on the dangers of New London for us, eh ‘rookie’?” 
She wasn’t sure how well her act came off, she thought she had got her tone pretty spot on and hopefully the use of her nickname for him would throw any suspicion Henry would have had out of the window - however she wasn’t so certain that her eyes reflected the slyness of her tone.