Cinder continued on his path at a decent walking pace, never breaking into anything faster than a light jog. Any more and the flames could die, or flare up and become easily noticed. Twice more he crossed paths with small System groups, obviously scouts trying to pin down the resistance. Twice more he left nothing but burnt corpses. They would only want to kill him, or inject the foul Serum into him. [i]I'm never going back to that place. I will die first.[/i] This thought was one of few he clung to, one of few that remained to him.

It was not long after the last System group that Cinder's walk came to an end. He stepped into a clearing, arm wreathed in fire, to find himself behind several men and a couple women. They wore no uniforms nor lab coats, and Cinder strangely felt no hostility towards them. Once he was noticed, several guns were leveled in his direction, and one of the men started talking into a communicator of some kind. Cinder did not react to the guns or the words, still trying to fit these people into his view of the world. A full minute past before he realized that this must be the resistance. [i]How long has it been since my worldview narrow so far as to forget even that...?[/i]