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Lynn

There was only one steady thing in this world and it was the tree behind her. And the ground. That was two things. Were they one thing? Maybe they were all one thing. oh God I'm one of those drunks Lynn thought, trying to blink the dizziness away. She rolled the flower over in her hand, focusing on how soft the petals felt to distract her from the tipsy-topsy-turvy mess that was her stomach. Somewhere, like a single ray of sunshine in-between a sky of storm clouds, a lone sober thought broke through to the front of Lynn's mind: I think I should've eaten dinner before this.

Lynn focused on taking deep breaths. Before the Promise, she'd been better at this. She could just beat back whatever was lurking around in the back of her mind. Che or all the homes - heh Holmes - or the trial. No matter how many times, each time the trial crossed her mind it stung just as badly as the day it'd happened. For a minute, her black t-shirt was a scratchy orange jumpsuit, her neck tight against the cold steel. Lynn shook her head like a dog and it went away. But here at the Promise it was like it was all right there under the surface just waiting. The cafeteria was just pain in her shoulder and looking down and seeing a butcher knife in her knee, or every time she walked into the Vaquero's kitchen she remembered - vaporized - or coming into the woods she saw that body with all the scars and that reminded her how close she was, if any of them, Gennedy or Radvi or any of them, if they found out. They brought her on the Promise strapped to a chair, and she had a feeling she was ending her time here the same way.

There was movement to her left and Lynn was too slow to react - fuck, fuck, she was too slow, she was going to get her, she hadn't killed her, she'd made it out the restaurant and - Lynn blinked. It was Eli. Lynn clumsily raised a hand and grunted for a minute, letting her skin glow and fill the few feet around her with soft light, the shadows dancing as her hair changed colors. Something in the alcohol had dampened whatever kept Lynn on such a hair trigger, and the heat was pleasant in the artificial autumn air. The forest was pleasant at night, if a bit spooky. It smelled like the real world out here, not like some squeaky clean lie up in the stars. Lynn hadn't ever got to play around in forests, growing up in the city. She had to leave Earth to see this many trees. Lynn stared up at Eli with woozy yellow eyes. "Eli?" Lynn slurred. She could hear the slur in her own voice which meant she was probably slurring like fifteen times worse. well it's not like they thought i was a rocket scientist before Her voice was full of surprise. She hadn't...why had Eli come? And with a bottle of water? Was she trying to dowse her? That wasn't enough water to - oh. She wanted to help. Well that was nice.

Lynn fumbled with the bottle's cap for a minute, smacking back more bottle memories and taking a sip. It helped wash away the acidic taste in her throat. "Thanks," Lynn mumbled, swaying a bit. Eli was close to her. Just kneeling. She didn't have one hand casually by her belt or one ready to grab her. She was just there. Eli was being really nice. Eli didn't look at her the way the others had, like she was just one wrong word away from killing them. That was what Lynn wanted, you know, so they wouldn't fuck with her, but it - she didn't - this was nice, was all. "Some other fire para threw up over there so you should watch out," Lynn said, hoping for humor and unsure if any of the words were intelligible. Lynn sipped again on the water and looked at Eli for a minute. It was kinda hard to look at much else since the corners of her vision were a bit dark and most certainly blurry. At least the ground was soft, and there were lots of flowers. She was nice. Keaton was nice too but Keaton was really smart and there was - well Lynn didn't blame her, because Lynn didn't fully trust Keaton either, and she didn't trust Eli, she'd only just met her, but Lynn thought someone who could fuck with your mind was going to be a terrible person and Eli wasn't, and she'd known enough fake snakes to know the difference, and -

"Eli," Lynn said quietly, her head too full of noise for any one thought to get through. This was a terrible idea but Lynn did not care. Continuing to breathe on this damned station was a terrible idea. There was a block in her throat she had to push past but once she did the dam just split and all the alcohol-thoughts came out in a slurred whisper as quiet as Lynn could manage, like maybe if she spoke quiet enough it wouldn't be true. "Eli I...Eli you shouldn't be nice to me, I..." Lynn's words slipped off for a minute. four "Eli I had to...there wasn't...she was gonna kill me if I hadn't, or do something to Archie, but...but I don't think that's why I did it, I think I..." the words came spilling out like a jug that burst in half a dozen different places and Lynn couldn't keep track of which stream came from where. "This place is fucking evil, they're doing shit, they...I - I can't sleep, there's...I just wanted to get fucked up for one night to celebrate 'cause of Gary, and not think about - then he had to bring her here and - I didn't mean to burn him, he grabbed me and I - and everybody thinks I just...fuck just go back to the party, I don't want to ruin it, I'm fine, I-"

There was noise Gennedy and Lynn flinched back against the tree. Had she been less inebriated, she might've notice the scrape on her neck as a result. It slowly stitched itself back up. It was Amelia. She hadn't heard, Lynn didn't think. No...no chance. She was speaking so softly. you're so drunk you probably weren't even speaking English anyway. She thought an iron ball had been dropped in her thoughts and dragged her drunk back down to reality. Shut the fuck up right now, you idiot. She's one of them. She'll tell her friend Radvi or tell Keaton you're fucking losing it and then they'll lock you up. Amelia or Nat will snitch. That one with the Rolex would just shoot you. They'll put the needle in you. Lynn took a sip of the water. That doll wasn't far from here when I found it. Amelia was trying to be nice. Maybe. Lynn didn't know what Amelia was doing sober let alone drunk. she's getting a kick out of this I bet. at least she doesn't look scared anymore. Even Lynn's pride was not so great as to admit this was probably pretty funny for them. At least she wouldn't remember it. "You can only fuck my hair back if you hold me." Lynn frowned. "No, shit. Damnit. That would've been funny. Shit." she sipped at the water again. "Thanks for the water," Lynn murmured. "I'm okay, though, you guys can go back to the party. I think I - " Lynn coughed for a minute, a false alarm of a dry heave passing as quickly as it came. "I think I could sober up pretty fast but I would probably set some stuff on fire if I did that. I got bitchslapped by the lizard I'm not gonna die from some - " Lynn burped, pausing. Nope. She was good. "Some tequila." She paused, swaying. "I mean it was a lot of tequila. But whatever." she sat back, the bark of the tree more comfortable than any chair in recent memory. The tree was solid. The tree was good. Lynn didn't fully realize she was doing it, but she shifted one of her legs to the left, leaning it against Eli. Eli felt warm. Eli was solid and good too.
Lynn

Lynn was not sure if her thoughts or her body or her eyes or her head started spinning first, but they all followed one after the other in a drunken shuffle. Somewhere, vaguely, the memory of fumbling with the pill bottle cap earlier in the day came to mind, and Lynn couldn't remember eating today, and she hadn't slept, she didn't think. She had bad dreams when she did sleep. She was in a restaurant, most of the time, or sometimes she was back in juvy, or sometimes just in grade school. So she stayed awake.

Amelia was talking. Leather jacket. Lynn blinked and opened her mouth, looking for words a minute before they came to her. She wanted to know why she drank at ten. He said it'd make you not afraid, Lynn wanted to say, but the last fumbling sober neurons were able to wrangle her mouth shut before she could talk. They wouldn't get it, Lynn realized. They'd just have questions and Lynn didn't want to answer questions, she didn't have the answers, they'd want to know who was Che and why she did stuff and why she was ten. Around her the music was loud and everything was picking up, movement and conversations Lynn couldn't keep track of. "'Cause I flinched," Lynn mumbled, not sure who she was speaking to. "I broke the bottle, I wasn't supposed to..." she blinked. Quiet. one half of her said. But it's true, the other half of her said back, blearily. I was supposed to throw the bottle but I got scared when I saw it light up.

Rolex came over. He was tick-tocking along. That was how you knew he was a fake. Lynn giggled at that. No, he didn't seem fake. Lynn swayed back and forth a bit, eyeing him over. He's fidgety, Lynn thought. Maybe it's his first party. But that didn't seem right. Lynn had a few instincts ingrained so deeply not even her drunkenness could make her forget them. She'd learned in a number of less-than-safe environments to look and see the way somebody carried themselves. You could see someone's tolerance for taking shit and their capability to dish it out and whether or not they'd ever seen something so fucked up it left scars on their eyes you could see every time they blinked. Lynn could see all that on him. He probably needs the party...he should get drunk too. Lynn felt Eli's eyes on her and she smiled, giggling again. The part of Lynn that would've noticed Eli was looking at her scars and counting them off in her head was struggling to keep its head above the alcohol that flooded her brain. Lynn just saw Eli smiling at her. Then she was introducing Fish and setting Fish up with Cara. She said some other words that Lynn missed, her eyes were closed and she thought her ears closed off for a second, too. When she opened them both Eli had called Lynn her friend, which made her turn back and stare, confused as the cigarette curled smoke up out of her mouth.

Friends? Lynn thought, and suddenly it was there again, that visegrip around her gut and throat that seemed to curl up around her, tighter and tighter. No, Lynn wanted to say. We can't be friends, that's bad, that's not it but Eli was also smiling and Lynn's brain couldn't put those two things together and make them fit.

Lynn's head swiveled over to Lucy and her denim jacket, which looked really snug and cozy. Lucy did two more jello shots and Lynn grinned wider, happy that she looked so happy, because they never looked happy, not with all the investigating and everything else that was going on. Lynn could see that she was wearing masks, though, because she got serious when Amelia asked about the story, and she was looking at Fish but it was a different smile than the ones she'd seen before. Lynn started to ask why she was smiling so differently, and she could smile just one way if she just drank more. Lynn turned and saw Archie and Nat and felt her stomach twist like the knotted ends in her hair and wrinkle like the ones in her shirt she couldn't seem to press flat. Archie looked good. He was tall and broad and Lynn wondered how strong you got working on boats because Archie looked strong. Her eyes swam over to Natalie who looked beautiful, awfully terribly beautiful. Something in Lynn wanted to shake and rage, wanted to scream. I got my shoulder fucked for you, Lynn wanted to shout. And almost got the needle when you called or the freezer or...

There was a part of Lynn that could still function competently and it dragged her eyes back to Archie, the light burns on his hand why did you grab me why the fuck did you grab me from behind i didn't know i wouldn't have done it and his eyes, very blue eyes mine are blue sometimes too, just not now. His eyes were looking everywhere, and Lynn followed them to the curves on Eli's jeans and the dimples on Lucy's face and Natalie's stupid fucking beautiful dress and not...they didn't...I can't help it, Lynn wanted to say, looking up. I was supposed to be tall and pretty but I'm not. I could keep you safe, they can't do that, I wouldn't let...she's wearing heels it's not fair...nobody taught me how to do makeup like hers or I would...I'm a good fucking person you shouldn't have grabbed me, why did you grab me, I don't want to burn you... Lynn's thoughts seemed to bounce and ripple apart like someone had dropped a rock into a pond, hitting the curve of the inside of her skull and bouncing back looking like something new.

Lynn fumbled to get the cigarette from her mouth to take a drink but her cup was empty. "Fuck," she murmured, blinking. She turned and Archie's heart rate monitor was beeping and before Lynn could drop her things and grab him, and keep the lizard from coming out like she had when they found the body, Rolex was there, stepping up. Lynn opened her mouth to ask if he was okay, if she could help, but she closed it.

Lynn turned back to Keaton, grabbing the tequila bottle firmly. Amelia was still there.

Do you wanna know? Lynn wanted to say, but she couldn't screw open the bottle and talk at once, she didn't spill bottles any more. You had to focus and hold them tight. There was a house across the street from where they parked, but they weren't where they'd parked. They were in a little alley off to the side and Lynn was shivering, grabbing at her face, at the bridge of her nose.

"Che...Che did I...am I gonna be ugly? Am I gonna be..."

"Shut her the fuck up."

"Che I didn't mean to - "

Che kneeled down, hushing the man next to him. Lynn didn't know who he was, but she'd heard he was from Out West, and that maybe he was a Fire Wyrm. Che cursed, holding the last bottle in his hands, stuffing the rag further down into the opening. The smells were strong and harsh, kerosene and alcohol and of course iron, but that last one was from her. "You told me you could do this," he said, and even then Lynn could tell there was iron in his voice, too, and it was because the other man had more iron in his voice, and there was going to be something bad if Che couldn't do what he said he would do, and it was because Lynn couldn't do it. Lynn didn't want to be the one who couldn't do things. She was gonna get transferred because she couldn't read as good, but Che was still her friend. But if she fucked this up then maybe he wouldn't be.

"I thought I could," Lynn said, reaching up for the glass wedged at the bridge of her nose but Che pushed her hand aside. "I thought...you didn't say there were people inside...that it was..."

"Shut her up before one of them hears," the other man muttered. Half the hair on his face was singed off, and both his eyebrows. Che had only lost the hair on his arms, and gotten a nasty gash from part of the glass. amelia called me molotov that day at the bench when nat was reading her stupid book before we found the dead body and i was in the hospital

Che turned back to her and pressed the bottle into her hands. He pulled out a flask from his back pocket and handed it to her. "She can fucking do it." He turned to Lynn. "Drink this. It makes you not scared. After, you go home and it's just like a bad dream."

Lynn nodded and did, coughing and wheezing at the taste, but Che cupped a hand over her mouth and she didn't spit any out. "It hurts," Lynn said, her back to the brick wall.

"It has to be you to throw it," Che said. He stared into her eyes and when he did that sometimes she couldn't look away no matter how badly she wanted to. She knew it had to be her to throw it, because she could make things burn, like the house last year, she hadn't meant to, she'd just tried to play with one of the Christmas candles and it had gotten so big so fast, but this was diferent. This wasn't playing. "If you don't, Clarita and Megan are gonna die. I'm gonna die too. And then you're gonna die. Is that what you want?"

"No," Lynn said sniffling, because the glass hurt, it hurt really bad, but she knew you weren't supposed to cry, because then people knew it was easy to make you cry and they did it more, and Che wouldn't like her, "I...I don't want anybody to..."


Lynn jerked the bottle back. She'd poured too much into Keaton's glass. She could feel Archie standing there, just a few feet away, and maybe the lizard would come out and maybe he wouldn't, Lynn didn't care, she was just small, smaller than everybody else here, and she couldn't - fuck. Fuck all of this. She shouldn't have come. "I gotta go, uh," Lynn said, the words refusing to come together smoothly. Fuck, she just needed an excuse, a simple excuse, "Piss, yeah. Hold it for me," Lynn said, handing it off to someone, she couldn't remember their name - Jack? Fish? - and she stepped away from the circle, feeling the campfire grow smaller and lonely behind her as she stumbled off into the woods. Lynn kept herself steady until she was a good ten or twelve yards into the treeline then she picked up the pace, tripping over roots and branches and every other fucking thing in these stupid woods. Lynn kept going until she couldn't hear the sounds of the party, stopping at a tree.

Lynn grabbed onto the trunk and retched, and retched, and retched. She held herself there for a minute or two, gasping and wheezing, then stepped back. The dirt under her feet felt soft and shifted under her feet. Then again, everything was shifting. Lynn found a different tree and sat/fell down, leaning back against the trunk and feeling her whole body anchor steady to that solidity. She was on something soft. Flowers. Lynn picked some up, rolling them over in her hands. They were pretty for a moment or two, until she remembered. Flowers just cover up the smell of how full of shit some people are, Lynn thought, lifting one up to her eyes. She grunted and let the light and heat dance back across her hair and down her arms and legs, and watched smoke curl up off the petals. She'd have to hurl again in a minute, but this was fine for now.
LynN

Lynn zoned out for a moment when Amelia was speaking, which was likely a very fortuitous thing, as her inebriated mind may have slipped up and made an uncouth comment about what laying low entailed and perhaps what the ramifications of such a course of action were for others in the group. Instead, she looked at everybody's shoes, and noticed how markedly smaller hers were than everyone else's. Eli and Amelia were introducing themselves, which felt strange to Lynn. It felt like some heavy, cold thing that threatened to rip through the little fragile house of cards Lynn's good mood tap-danced on top of, and she couldn't explain why. Lynn wanted to put herself between Eli and Amelia (yo! Amelia's name already has Eli in it, what the fuck)and ask some questions to disrupt this, whatever it was, but before her mind had formulated a plan to make this happen Amelia had turned things back to Lynn. Fuck, this was more thinking than she wanted tonight. Lynn drank some more. "How hard did I pregame?" Lynn asked. "I just don't drink like a pussy," she said back, grinning. She was joking. Were her jokes good? People liked her more tonight than normal. Maybe they'd like her jokes. Lynn was surprised at her first beverage. She would've figured it was something nicer. As she looked down at her poor man's Jack and Coke, Lynn noticed the edge of the cup was swimming a bit in her vision. About time.

Eli called her bossy. That made Lynn grin. Was she bossy? Lynn had never heard that before. She started to say that she didn't talk to enough people to be bossy but someone had changed the subject and the line was gone from Lynn's mind and her mouth at once, forgotten. As Lynn watched Eli speak, her mind was split between the girl's words and everything else about her. Lynn's normal doubts about whether or not a housebroken para like Eli could be really trusted beyond getting dinner together - if Keaton was getting Eli in on the operation so they could stab Lynn in the back - seemed to melt away. Lynn's hair slowly and softly stopped dancing with color and settled down to a dull auburn. To someone not paying close attention, it would seem that she perhaps had some splotchy highlights put in, ones which changed color every few minutes, but far more slowly than they did before. It was messier and unkempt this way, full of split ends and a tangle or two. Lynn's skin lost a bit of its glow, and the radiant heat around the girl dimmed down. Eli invited Rolex over, which was good. Lynn would've butchered it if she'd done it. Eli drank at fourteen? Younger than she was expecting, but Lynn giggled. "Whiskey! That's real shit." She followed Eli's eyes over to two people making out, and the same strange feeling from before seemed to well up in Lynn. I could be doing that, Lynn thought, and in her mind, even her thoughts seemed to slur. No you couldn't, said another, and it wrenched her eyes back to the conversation before the sight of Maddy - tall - threatened to twist her mood any more than it already had. Lynn turned back and saw something in Eli's face. Lynn was not sure if she could have articulated what she saw, because doing so would have meant having to explain how she saw it. It was what Lynn had just felt, that feeling of trying desperately to stomp out a roach and being afraid to lift up your foot in case it's alive and still scurries away. she had a bad time Lynn thought, staring at Eli has she swayed a bit. i had a bad time too. She used her powers to catch their attention without making a racket and Lynn stared in awe. that's so fucking cool, she thought, looking down at her own hands. she could do anything and nobody would have to know what she was.

Keaton. Denim. Lynn liked Keaton's denim. And Amelia's jacket. And...maybe also Eli's denim. fuck were we wearing denim? She stumbled through the day's events trying to remember if someone had said that or not. No, they hadn't. She'd gone back to her dorm after work after getting the tequila because Cara told her that GARY WAS FUCKING DEAD and there had been no mention of denim not once. Not once at all. Lynn wasn't out of the loop. Unless they said something to each other and didn't say it to her? why would they do that? Lynn thought. Two more people came from the edge of the clearing and Lynn felt the cards all go bust before the house came tipsy-tumbling down. It was Archie and Natalie. "She looks really pretty," Lynn murmured. And heels. And her makeup was fucking perfect. Lynn turned away and finished the rest of her drink, a tinge of blue ink-splotting out messily from the roots of her hair and base of her irises. archie didn't show his other hand Lynn thought, the sort of thought that picked the knocked-down cards off the floor and ripped them apart. There was something sharp and sudden in Lynn's stomach and she thought for a brief, sobering moment she was going to hurl but it passed. I burned Gary's hand too just like Archie's. Lynn tried not to think about Archie. Just don't. Just don't. if he comes over to talk just find a reason to leave go get more liquor or food or just say you have to pee it doesn't matter just get away

Lynn struggled to stack the cards back up before they were all shredded. Keaton. She turned to Keaton who was like a denim fucking anchor right now in Lynn's head. Keaton smiled when she looked at Lynn sometimes. And sometimes, Lynn's alcohol-slogged mind thought, it was the smirk or the condescending smile or all those other ones she'd seen so many times, the we're reviewing your case as fast as we can smile or the we think you'd be a great candidate for the Promise smile, but there were Lucy smiles too, and sometimes like now it was one of those smiles, and that made Lynn smile, and she wondered if Keaton could tell what kind of smiles Lynn had, and if Keaton even understood the difference. "Good drinking," Lynn said instead, watching Keaton crush another jello shot like a champ. Sophomore year? Lynn almost wanted to laugh. She hadn't even made it through that much high school, let alone drinking. if i kissed keaton right now that would be fucking hilarious i bet fish would flip flop out of his own scales And that was only a year ago for Lynn, so it felt funny to imagine. Lynn saw it on Keaton's face too, for a second, something sad. something bad happened sophomore year Lynn realized. She blinked and turned to Eli, the world turning a half second after her eyes did. maybe that's why they're getting along so well because they both had something bad happen Lynn decided she was doing to do something really really nice for Keaton. She didn't know what. But she told it to herself a half dozen times or so, so that in the morning she'd remember and she could do it.

Lynn grinned wide at Keaton's question, too drunk to think through the words that came stumbling out. "Hah! I have all you guys beat by a shitton. My first drink was when I was ten. Whiskey, like Eli." Lynn absentmindedly reached a spare hand to the bridge of her nose, rubbing at the scar across it. "It was 'cause I messed up his - " she blinked. Fish came swimming! Fish had like six names now, though, and Lynn could not remember any of them. She frowned. There was definitely something important about watches she was supposed to have remembered too, but that was long gone. Oh go figure, though. The one time Lynn managed to bring someone into a conversation and they don't speak fucking English. Lynn looked at Gen for a minute and sighed. "Don't worry," she said, reaching into her bag. "I have something for the language barri-" she paused, cocking her head and needing to try once or twice. "berry, bear...barrier, she said, handing Gen the handle. "It's like Mexican sake, Fish," she said. "Zack." She frowned. Why would you choose Zack? You could've been anything. Lynn would've picked a way more badass name, like a big movie star, or a boxer, or Salamandra. Lynn tensed for a second and looked around the party, but the alcohol seemed to have numbed her enough that by the time the panic had started to set in her brain had confirmed Salamandra wasn't there. she's dead like gary and you killed her. Lynn fumbled into her back pocket, holding her cup between her teeth, and drew out a pack of cigarettes.

"Anybody want one?" she asked, muffled, holding her empty cup in the crook of her arm as she put the cigarette to her teeth. Normally the phoenix was right there, right under the surface, but she thought it had gone to sleep now. Lynn struck her thumbnail against the cigarette like a strike-anywhere match and nothing happened. "Whiskey dick," Lynn muttered quietly, as if she wasn't aware she was speaking at all. The cigarette had her full focus for a few moments, which was the part of alcohol Lynn really liked. There weren't so many thoughts tall // Salamandra // four dead // Che // she's so pretty // molotov // then and it was easier to just focus. "Heh always something to do with whiskey." Lynn finally got the cigarette to light and took a puff, noticing that for once it was burning down at a normal rate. i save so much money when i drink and no buildings have been destroyed today either. i should do this more often
Lynn

The warm was coming. It had been a while since Lynn was drunk like this - despite any scientific evidence to the contrary, Lynn was a firm believer that different alcohols induced different drunks. The last time Lynn had been inebriated was in a prison cell, and perhaps owing to that less than illustrious ambiance, it was not the most enjoyable of wine sipping sessions she'd ever had. Tequila had always been a standby, and tequila on an occasion such as this even more so - the fire danced beside her, flickering brighter and bolder with Lynn's arrival, but not dangerously so. The girl's mood was flickering with it, something happy and warm and dancing, and the lanterns almost seemed to pull to her. The sparks of the campfire disproportionately fluttered to her hair rather than the ground or the open air, no matter where Lynn walked in the little clearing. The tequila from earlier was starting to seep in now, like a big fluffiness that dripped from her head down to her words and thoughts.

"Shots!" Lynn said, her teeth flashing. The first time kids have enjoyed shots on this station, huh? Lynn wanted to say, but this was a party, and the disaster was - three hundred dead five of them yours, all yours, all - not what people talked about at parties. Lynn had never really been to a proper party before. She'd been to hangouts, or places where everyone was drinking together, but it wasn't an occasion like this, if that made sense. She was enjoying it. She was vibing it. Had she been noticing the clothes on Eli or Keaton before, the way their jackets hung off the shoulders that stood what felt like half a foot taller than hers? Lynn couldn't remember.

Lynn followed her and Keaton to the table, a slack grin hanging on her face, a stray strand of hair leaning down over her pale forehead. Someone else joined up and it took Lynn a brief moment to remember her. Amelia, Lynn thought. She thought she could see her look afraid for just a minute, but coming up and talking was such an anti-bitch move, a really unexpectedly anti-bitch move coming from her. Lynn stared at her for a second - or maybe five - but Lynn wasn't upset. She would've cattle-branded her with the back of her hand a month ago, but if Amelia had snitched, Gennedy would've put the needle in her weeks ago. He had ample opportunities. No, Amelia had stumbled across something she hadn't, and when things went to hell on the station, she stayed snuggly and cozy in the station. Lynn could understand that. It made Amelia a bit of a coward, but coward was several orders of magnitudes above snitch in the Cordelia Lynn Holmes' caste system. There was a part of Lynn, slithering out from the cracks in her brain loosened apart by liquor, that thought Clarita was probably about Amelia's age by now, and that was about her age by now, and -

"Didn't know I'd be here either," Lynn said, grinning. Was she grinning a lot? Who cared. "People winding up in all sorts of places these days," Lynn said, giggling slightly. Lots of places, all over the place today. I know a guy who's in about a dozen different places right now, and a lady who is too! Gary and Arianna, wouldn't they be a dream...Gary-anna...heh Besides, there were a few people not here that was fine by Lynn. Today was a good day. Nobody was going to fuck that up. Not Amelia, or Gennedy, or the lizard, or nobody. Not nobody at all. "Teleport this shit into your liver," Lynn said, grabbing a jello shot and passing it - possibly warmed - to Amelia. She'd been silly to worry about a set-up or something. There was so much alcohol here nobody would dare try to fuck with her. It felt fun, to be safe. Warm and laughing and it tasted like tequila. Lynn liked it.

"More the merrier!" Lynn said back to Keaton. "Like reindeer." She looked at the edge of the woods where one guy was walking up like a walk-on to the 1976 Saigon chopper gunners b-team. Jesus. He needed some liquor in him. Not super tall. Of course that was relative to Lynn. Big ol' rolex on his wrist. That'd buy a lot more tequila, Lynn thought. Easy mark, too, he came here alone. Lynn frowned. No, she forgot this was the Promise. He could probably see the future or something. Besides, she was already toeing the illegality line with buying liquor under the table and buying Xanax a few dozen feet under where she bought liquor. Lynn blinked, brow furrowing for a brief moment. Had she had some today? She took some to help her sleep, but had that been this morning or the night before?

"I'll leave one on the table," Lynn said in magnanimous compromise. "The other stays with me, under the table." Lynn looked up at Keaton. She was pretty. She wasn't that much taller than Lynn, really, which Lynn found comforting. Older, though. She was skinny but the good kind. Normally these things would've jabbed at Lynn's state of mind like hornets but tonight they were bees and they stung once and snapped off. No more buzz. Lynn was buzzed. Buzzing. Buzz. Keaton was staring at it and Lynn could tell her Sherlock shit was going looney tunes. Didn't she ever not overthink things? Lynn would have to help her with that sometime, she resolved. "Hey, Denim," Lynn said, "Stop trying to do calculus on it and just drink." Lynn ran a pinky along the rim of the jello cup and then squeezed it out into her mouth. "Ah, love jello. Used to have it all the time." Half true, Lynn thought. I always gave it to Megan when it came at lunches, but I guess I did HAVE it. Keaton still looked all wound up, like if somebody had cross-stitched a picture of an angry person with chain mail. I'll get her tipsy, Lynn said. Dead girls oughta have a little fun. But it was hard to remember they were dead tonight - increasingly hard - and Lynn was enjoying it. She looked back to Eli, who was older too. How long had she been on the Promise? How much shit had gone down? A quiet voice wondered how many fights she'd seen, or how many people she'd seen die in four years, or four weeks, or four people or more of these dances. Denzel would know how to shop for stuff, Lynn thought, looking over her for a moment. Or even Amelia, fuck. What was her nickname? I can't call her Amelia. If Denim and Denzel got married their name would be Denzel. Garriana. Heh. Lynn scanned around again, where Beth or whatever Eli's friend was flirting with some dude, which made Lynn frown for a second. Then she looked back and shadow guy was still in the shadows doing shadow shit. If he was like ten feet further back I could have that Rolex, she thought. "Did you guys know fake Rolexes tick?" Lynn said idly to the group, looking around. "And - " she grinned wider, like a shark that's seen a "Fish!" Lynn shouted. "Splish splash your ass over here," she said, spotting the ethnic unicorn prince-prancing over to the treeline. I should make a funny joke about his parents later, Lynn thought. There's so many, Lynn thought, And the best part is he can't get me back. She was absentmindedly swirling the tequila bottle in her hand. If one's cards were entirely on the table, Lynn's would reveal that she was hoping this guy would trip and fall again on the walk over. Or just to mess with him. He seemed pretty reclusive when she'd tried to help him put his teeth back in his mouth on that treadmill. Holing up in his shell. Like a turtle. Turtle fish. Turtle Fish.

Christ, if Rolex stood in the dark any longer he was going to buy a trench coat and start flashing them. Wouldn't that be fitting for today. Nice of somebody to invite Gary! Lynn wondered if she should invite him over. No, she thought. I'm bad with people. "Hey," Lynn said, nudging Eli's forearm with the top of her head. She left a faint smudge of ash. "Somebody wth more, whatever, like, charm or shit should go tell tall dark and blandsome to come take a shot and start talking to people." She unscrewed the tequila and took another pull. "Any of you three qualify." Lynn looked at him for a minute longer. This one is a male Spoons, she determined. No eye contact. Military jacket? Not as a para. Probably his grandpa from Vietnam or something. Everybody's grandpa fought in Vietnam. A...Forks. Lynn looked back up. Keaton was watching her a bit, as was Eli. Like they were waiting for something. I'm not the one who PMS'es into a crocodile, damnit, she wanted to say, but talking about him was not what she felt particularly inclined to do right now. She wasn't sure what else they'd be looking at her for. Like, worried, almost. Did they think she couldn't handle her liquor? I was drinking before you bitches went bra shopping, Lynn also contemplated. And before I went bra shopping. Which still hasn't hapened, so, you know. Whatever. Lynn sipped again. "I'm gonna grab a beer," Lynn said, putting the tequila in Deaton's arms before meandering over to the table and searching for anything she recognized. Wine. Who drank wine? She picked up the bottle and examined the label. Malbec. From Argentina. She put it down. There was a long list of things she did not want to think about tonight and they consisted mostly of Lizard Boat, Salamandra, the station, Gennedy, anything that wasn't the alcohol in front of her, and Che. She would accept topical conversation about Fish's latest mile times and estimates on how many shots she could do, which Lynn intended to disprove entirely. The rest of the alcohol was weird. There was hard seltzer, and while Lynn had said she didn't want to fight tonight, she felt vaguely obligated to slap whoever drank that, and there was vodka, which was at least acceptable, and some Jack Daniel's, which was cool.

"Oh, sweet," Lynn thought, seeing Fireball. Lynn grabbed a plastic cup, frowning. "Damnit," she muttered. She searched for a tray of pot brownies someone had brought, grabbing the aluminum foil that covered it and wrapping the base of the cup in it. Then she poured a mix of ice and Coke and Fireball together and swirling it for a moment. "Why the fuck did I bother with ice?" Lynn thought said, turning back to the group. She didn't feel as weird about how many people here she didn't know before. There were boys, too. For a sudden minute a thought smashed through all the dance-happy haze, that thought being that Lynn could kiss anyone here she wanted. She could grab them by the hand and pull them into the forest and forget all the fuck about the Promise tonight. Lynn would've stomped that thought out with a size six and a half steel toed boot any other night. Tonight it was intriguing. Like Fireball.

Lynn walked back. "So, what was everybody's first drink? And when?" Lynn asked. This was how people made conversation, right? She didn't know what to talk about with these people. Delinzel was into Vietnamese food and Keaton sometimes just like thought too much so Lynn didn't know what to say. Why bother, when the other person's just smarter? I should get her dumbfuck drunk, Lynn thought. She blinked, realizing she'd swayed slightly. Heh. Race to the bottom.
LYNN

DENEM: Campground by the forest. Eli’s waiting


Lynn snapped the phone shut, leaning back against the door of her room. Something about her was prickled by that, something she could not fully identify. A part of her thought this might be a set-up - after all, the no cameras of the woods cut both ways, and with the commotion of Homecoming, it would be a while before anyone noticed two missing teenagers. A part of Lynn considered not going, of barring the door shut with her desk chair and enjoying a small lake's reserve of tequila by herself, not risking any mutilation by lizard claws or elbows to the nose or having to blow herself through the wall of a kitchen again.

But the rest of her knew the opposite was true - if she squirreled away and this wasn't a sting, she was going to look like a bitch, especially after she gave her word she'd be there. And looking like a bitch was worse than looking dead. Lynn dropped her bag on the bed and reread the message one more time. Eli - well, Lynn called her Denzel - was alright, but she was a bit confused. Why were they out there? This had to be some kind of party? That tracked. Lynn ran herself through the scenarios and was able to talk herself down from the nerve-jump jitters she'd worked herself up to a moment ago. It's just a party, Lynn told herself. And if it's a sting, you will turn that campground into fucking Nagasaki with all the liquor in your bag.

Lynn took off her work clothes, markedly turning away from the Promise-issued mirror in her room as she did so. Lynn threw the apron, black jeans and t-shirt into the corner, yanking the no-slip tennis shoes off and throwing them still tied to the other side. Lynn went to throw on normal clothes but paused for a moment. Through the window (which Lynn kept shuttered, and slathered with a thin film of vaseline, so as to detect intrusion) she could hear the roaring music of the whole station set to party. The pretty dresses. The make-up. The glimpse of the patrons in the front of house she'd seen had all been dolled up too.

Lynn walked over to her dresser and opened it up with a grunt. Of course they'd given her the one that jammed. It had only been a week and a half ago she had actually put her clothes away in the dresser as opposed to living out of her duffel bag. Excepting the last year and a half of her life, it had been a while since she'd been in one spot long enough to really really settle. Lynn rummaged through her things. "Fuck," she muttered, remembering. The mall. Damn him, she thought, thinking of Archie inviting them, Archie grabbing her, Archie making a butcher's fuckery of the whole afternoon. She'd meant to get clothes and hadn't. She had thought she might...well Keaton was always put together, and...

Lynn kicked the dresser and rubbed at her forehead for a moment. Then she glanced back in and pulled out one of her two pairs of jeans, electing the one which had the most material still intact. She grabbed a t-shirt and turned -

There was a woman in the corner of her room.

"Bitch!" Lynn screamed, cocking back.

She blinked. There was nothing. She walked over, throwing her arms to catch someone invisible. Nothing. No noise. She rubbed at her eyes and looked again, her heart thundering in her ears. It - fuck. It was a shadow. She'd - her hair, it glowed, it cast shadows sometimes, and she'd thought it...it for sure was...

Lynn leaned back against the dresser for a moment, breathing, her hair and skin glowing like the bellows of a forge as she did so. Lynn threw her clothes to the ground and sat down at her backpack, fumbling with the zipper for a full thirty seconds. "Motherfucker," she muttered, finally managing to grasp it firmly and pull it apart. She wasn't going to lose her shit the day she got told the funniest joke of her life. She unscrewed the bottle and took a deep, long pull. The tequila burned running down her throat - one of the few times Lynn had ever felt something burn, and oh if she didn't love it - and gurgle in her empty stomach. She screwed the cap back on tight, not wanting to dowse her bag in Jose Cuervo. Lynn stood back up and grabbed her jeans up off the floor, sliding into them with utter ease, back pointedly to the mirror. She threaded her belt through the loops and cinched it tight before looking back at her other clothes. She had like three workout tanktops, a handful of ratty t-shirts, her hoodie. Lynn elected for the most presentable of the t-shirts - a black and yellow Wu Tang Clan shirt, and wriggled into it, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. She left her hoodie on her bed - Lynn had no intention of fighting anyone tonight, and if someone vomited all over it, she'd have to. Lynn walked into the bathroom and washed her mouth out with water and mouthwash for a moment before heading out, hair still bound back in its work-required ponytail. She locked the door behind her and made her way toward the campgrounds.

Lynn kept reminding herself of the Gary news, which was just beautiful, but it seemed like the gold-happy feeling that had filled her up a few minutes ago was shaken. Lynn wasn't sure why, and it was pissing her off. She was just trying to get trashed, and somehow that was proving too complicated. Along the way, Lynn passed a few roaming packs of would-be Homecoming kings and queens, whose photo ops she interrupted with no semblance of remorse. Rich fuckers, Lynn thought. Still, Lynn buried how annoying all their stupid shit was, and when she saw ATVs of cops roll past she buried the cold twisting feeling in her spine she got each time she saw the Promise's security, and when she passed the people sitting on the patios of restaurants she buried how hungry she felt. Lynn had blown her cash on the liquor, and figured that she was going to be hungry regardless, so she might as well be hungry and drunk.

After a few minutes of buoying herself with the mental image of Gary trying to talk his way out of an ultimately fatal ass-beating, Lynn stepped into the trees, letting one hand fall back to her backpack, fingers gripping the zipper. The woods were quiet, and Lynn was all to aware of how close she was to where she'd found the doll. She listened intently. The light was from firelight, something Lynn knew instinctively even before her eyes could pick up on the flickering campfire, and she could hear people talking about schoolwork, which wound her down. "Thank God," Lynn muttered, more relieved she got to just party than relieved it wasn't a set-up. That would've just been a headache. Lynn walked through the trees, the lantern next to her head flaring briefly as she stepped into the campfire. Lynn recognized a grand total of two people there, which was something of a mixed blessing, but it felt a little more mixed than blessing at the moment.

"What's up," Lynn said, reaching into her bag and, for the first time in her life, doing something that was unambiguously going to win people over and make them like her. She pulled out two full handles of tequila. She had limes and salt in her backpack, and even some beers, too. Lynn felt it was discourteous to not have a 40 oz, even if it had been two years since she'd had one. "Who wants tequila?"

Eli and Keaton were both standing next to each other, like some kind of denim Voltron. She was going to need a better nicknaming system. Lynn walked up, getting a read on the group. Eli was grabbing onto her literally and figuratively. Eli looked like she knew everyone here; Keaton knew only Eli. It made Lynn like Keaton a smidge more, but that may have been the warm cloud that was starting to seep into her mind. "'Sup sluts," Lynn said. She blinked. Maybe Eli's friends were squares. Eh. Oh well.
Lynn

Lynn pulled a spoon out of the sudsy water of the dishwashing sink of El Vaquero. It glowed red in her bare hands. She threw it in the rack with the others, then resumed scrubbing. In the front of house, traditional mariachi music flowed from the speakers. In the back, rap reigned supreme.

Dinners were always busy, and Lynn was grateful for that - she was trying her absolute hardest to stay as busy as possible these last few days. Keaton had told her about the meeting after she left, and it had left Lynn with questions, questions that spun in her head and birthed more questions, like drinking saltwater when you were lost at sea. The faceless men were anywhere, in Lynn's mind, lurking in the shadows, right behind her as she showered, as she washed dishes, as she slept. Well, as she tried to sleep. Lynn had not found it easy to rest lately. There were things waiting for her. The noose was growing tighter around their necks, and Lynn's feet were starting to twitch. They don't know yet, Lynn thought. The ghostfuckers don't know what we know. Not yet. If they did, we'd be dead.

She put a plate on the rack. When was the last time she'd slept a full night? Her mind struggled to remember as the music blared and the angry shouting matches of line cooks and waiters flared up. Lynn kept scrubbing. Scrubbing was simple. For a few hours, Lynn could rack up some cash and not think.

"Despacia," Ignacio shouted at her, dropping a pile of dishes beside her.

"Tírate a tu mama," Lynn shouted back, shoving them into the scalding water. Tonight was Homecoming. What a fucking joke. She and Keaton were fairly confident nothing would go down tonight, in terms of explosions, or terrorist attacks, or four dead, gone, Salamandra's skull against the wall or anything else. Lynn was grateful for that, but the alternative irked her almost as much. Someone would want to invite her to something, she was sure - potentially Archie, the thought of whom still made her stomach twist. He's a fucking fool, Lynn thought, scraping a plate clean. Big, dumb puppy. Why did he grab me? Any other woman would've tased her ass or pepper sprayed him. Why would you grab me from behind? Damn you. Lynn had resolved to bury him. Hanging around him was only going to get her killed by the lizard or get someone else hurt. It happened every time. But there was something more that twisted at her, gnawed along with the leech-like questions that latched on and wouldn't let go. Something like flowers. Something like coming after her when she stormed off. Why'd he follow me? And why'd he grab me?

Lynn shook her head and kept working. She certainly wasn't going to any Homecoming dance. No one had asked her, which was whatever. She didn't talk to enough people to really be a candidate. How did that even happen, anyway? Lynn had stopped going to school before dances happened back on earth. What was even the point of one? Beyond that, there was something about dresses and makeup and pictures that made Lynn squirm in her skin. It made her think of sisters. Lucy's kid would be three or four by now. What if it was a para. That'd be fucking rich.

"Cordelia Lynn Holmes." Lynn stopped cold, steam pouring off her skin. She turned and looked at the bag next to her, staring down at it. Lynn turned off the water and knelt down. The voice, female and mechanical, repeated itself.

"What the fuck do you want?" Lynn asked. She could've sworn she turned it off. She...she could've sworn she did. Lynn could remember turning it off. Had she? Hadn't she? Lynn was forgetting things lately. Her grades were slipping. Who gives a shit, Lynn told herself. You'll be dead by Christmas. Lynn opened the bag after wiping her hands dry on her apron, which draped down to her ankles despite being the smallest size they had. She unzipped her bag and pulled out her phone, turned on.

Cara paused for a moment in agitation. "I have important news for you, from back home."

Lynn stared. "Is this some kind of game?"

"I only give unsolicited alerts in the event of disasters, emergencies, or personal tragedies. Your case worker requested that you be informed that your foster father, Gary Wendell Rogers, has passed away."

Lynn stared down at the phone, dumbstruck. "...what? Are you fucking with me, Carol?"

If it were possible for a machine to bristle, perhaps Cara would've. "No, Miss Holmes. He passed away three days ago."

"How?" Lynn asked, feeling something like a big warm cloud rising up inside her, swirling up into her face and pulling at her cheeks into a big wide grin. "Oh, Carrie, you gotta tell me how. C'mon."

"...you may find the circumstances of his demise traumatic, or - "

"Oh like I can't google the obituary anyway, just save me the hassle."

"...he was violently stabbed in prison by the other inmates. Initial reports indicate it was a crude form of justice meted out by the others. I am sorry for your loss."

"I'm not! Thanks, bitch!" Lynn turned the phone off and threw it back in her bag, turning back to the sink. Lynn giggled. She started to full-on laugh. "Holy shit," Lynn said, her eyes watering as she keeled over the sink. "Oh holy shit, this is like Christmas come fucking early." Lynn, cackling, took her shift break, laughing too hard to light a cigarette out by the dumpsters behind the restaurant. "Oh holy shit, I'd forgotten he was even in there," Lynn wheezed. If Archie thought his hand got burned he should've seen that fucker's. Hah! Lynn's break ran five minutes over. I will buy Cara a drink or set her up with a nice lamp or USB stick or something for this. Oh Christ this is hilarious.

Lynn finished her shift as inefficiently as possible before pulling aside Ignacio. She handed him a roll of cash and he returned with two full bottles of tequila, which Lynn dutifully shoved into her bag, throwing her hoodie back on. He eyed them, and then Lynn, thin and short, a hesitant look creeping over his face.

"¿Cuantos años tienes, chiquíta?"

Lynn grinned. "Demasiado para Gary!"

Ignacio cocked his head in confusion, but Lynn did not particularly care if anyone else got the joke. She was still reeling from the punchline. Lynn left the restaurant out back, pulling out her phone and half expecting Cara to say something bitchy. For once, the thoughts of the Promise and Salamandra and Che and everything were slipping from her mind. She was weary from work and riding the high of hearing about a good old-fashioned ass-kicking. Lynn scrolled the wheel down to Keaton's number and punched out a quick text.

"What's the fucking move? I've got us hooked up. Tonight we are CELEBRATING."

Lynn figured she'd pass the word along to Eli if she wanted. She'd hung with Eli a few times, mostly in Keaton's presence. Was Eli cool? Debatable. Lynn still didn't trust Keaton, but, you know, maybe she relied on her somewhat, or sometimes enjoyed being around her, but she didn't trust her, because trusting someone was how you got fucked over. It was just that when Lynn thought of who she wanted to hang with tonight, Keaton happened to be the first, but that was solely because they had to keep up pretenses if Ebony and Ivory were stalking them, or the Promise wanted to know why they kept meeting up. Nothing more. And Eli was just like, another alibi.They were both...Lynn didn't know. They were older, and...sometimes Lynn thought about them and it was like thinking about the dresses and everyone she'd passed on the way here, tall and long-legged, faces contoured like fucking marble sculptures, with her smoking a cigarette and pulling back her flickering hair in a lazy band. But those times seemed fewer and further between. Especially tonight. Tonight, Lynn was getting fucking annihilated.

Lynn grinned - wider. She hadn't stopped grinning in an hour. It was a crime to not share good liquor. Tonight they were going to pour out a whole ass handle. If Arianna showed up, Lynn would buy her a round. She pulled her phone back out and punched out, "You know what, bring Eli." Lynn would pour a shot for anyone who wanted one tonight. Fish, Denim, Breakfast Club, maybe even that Paw Patrol ass cop.

And Archie? Or Natalie?

Lynn hesitated, a brief stutter-step in her bouncy walk back to her dorm. She...she wasn't sure about that. But it didn't matter. Fuck it. She earned this.
Lynn

Lynn sighed. The air shimmered as it left her mouth. "Fish. 'Cause you're new." She stared at him for a moment. Yeah he's never been to juvy. "Fuck it. Fish because you looked like one flopping around down there." Gen moved a notch higher in Lynn's book by disengaging her grip from him quickly but subtly. Finally someone on this station who isn't drowning in feelings. Spoons would've held my hand and tried to do a palm reading or something. Keaton might've done something similar, she figured, but it would've been coded as a question, as a beat-around-the-bush, not-asking-what-I'm-really-asking type deal. Lynn could respect that. It was still annoying, but it...it didn't bother Lynn as much.

Lynn took a step back, adusting the bag over her shoulder. She opened her mouth and closed it for a moment, gears whirring in her head. This guy was clearly trying to get back in shape. Lynn could respect that. His time on that treadmill, even factoring in lost time for faceplanting, wasn't exactly an Olympic qualifier, but everybody started somewhere. Not working with super speed here, I'm guessing. He dressed like he came from money, but he didn't have the douchebag swagger that usually accompanied it. That did strike Lynn as interesting. He was tall, and in Lynn's experience, that skin complexion usually got the baby factories open for business, but he didn't have that confidence about him. The OJ glove probably counteracts it. Not asking why he wears it, though. With my luck it'll be the last thing his dead mother gave him and then I have to talk about that for thirty minutes. So Fish had self-confidence issues. Lynn felt reasonably confident on the call about him being a virgin. For a brief moment, unbidden, Lynn wondered if Archie was a virgin, and the thought was gone as soon as it came. She shook it out of her mind. What did that have to do with anything?

There was something more here, though. She couldn't put a finger on it. He just seemed jumpy. Not a dick, which was a welcome surprise, and not interested in needless emotional bullshit, which was also pretty chill in Lynn's book. She'd throw him a bone. "Hey, you - " Lynn paused, again, trying to figure out a way to put the words together that wouldn't make this guy feel like a bitch. Lynn knew her way around a gym, as it was one of the few leisure activities permitted in juvy, and Lynn had taken to getting as strong as she possibly could. Given her frame and the diet in a parahuman juvy, there was a remarkably low ceiling to that endeavor, but she'd tried nonetheless, her frail arms hammering out push-ups or shadowboxing in her room when rec time was cancelled. Rec time getting cancelled was pretty frequent. Lynn was only sometimes to blame. "You don't really look like you know what you're doing, no disrespect," she added quickly, as if that somehow made the sentence courteous, "So if you want me to show you around or something I will. But if not, that's cool. I'll be over there." Lynn nodded and walked away. Keaton would've known a better way of handling that. She remembered the first time she'd tried to bench press, unassisted by her powers, and the way the bar had pushed her arms straight down to the bench and dug into her chest, Lynn wheezing to lift it back up. In a rare moment of humanity in that place, one of the girls had snorted, lifted it up off her, and mercifully kept it to herself. Lynn tried to pay things forward. She didn't like being in debt to people - so this way it was like she was smudging that debt away.

Lynn sat down in front of the punching bag, cinching the wraps on her hands tighter and letting her fingers dance for a moment. Lynn never really bothered with pussy stuff like stretching or warming up. Practically speaking, she didn't need it - Lynn's powers could correct a sprain or pulled muscle relatively easily - but it was largely because she thought it looked completely ridiculous. Lynn got into position, weight dancing from one foot to the other. When she moved, she was lighter than she should've been, even for a girl her size - she almost seemed to float as she bounced, drilling out quick jabs into the bag. There was a faint smell of burning polyester, but Lynn was doing her best to keep her heat down as low as she possibly could, and as a result it was fairly minimal. On the ground beside her, an iPod whose history of ownership was best left unquestioned bellowed out turn-of-the-millenia rap and hip-hop, and Lynn soon fell into its rhythm, dancing and ducking and striking. Lynn had little in the way of real form boxing training, but seemed to have a vague idea of what she was doing, and learned at least the fundamentals passably well. Her head stayed on a constant bounce, her hands flashing back up to her face after she struck the bag. After thirty minutes or so, her clothes dripping with sweat, she gathered her things and moved over to the free weights. Someone with less concern for self-preservation may have giggled at the sight of the barely five foot girl struggling to reach up and grab some of the heavier plates, but perhaps may have stopped giggling as she effortlessly slid them onto the bars. Lynn stopped and looked at the plates for a moment, panting.

"What the fuck is this kilogram bullshit?" Lynn muttered.
Lynn

Lynn had come to the gym to not be (as) pissed off anymore, and she had to admit through a barely bit-back laugh that she had succeeded pretty much immediately upon arrival. Hoisting the duffel bag (which seemed nearly as large as her; newly-bought with Vaquero money, and among the only passably nice things Lynn owned) higher over her shoulder, she walked over to Gen, who was lying flat on the floor, flopping like he was having a stroke. Aw shit maybe he was. Lynn figured asking if he smelled burnt toast, but most people did around her. Eh. He was moving. Flopping.

Some have slandered Lynn's good name with accusations of paranoia. Whatever label you choose to apply on her reasoned and rational vigilance, there was very little of it to be had here. The gym was populated enough that no one was going to try to put a hit on her, and Lynn figured the Promise's MO was to make things look like an accident. Namely, a large, lizard-sized accident. Beyond that, there was something so utterly pathetic about face-planting on a five mile per hour treadmill that nothing in Lynn's mind could register this guy as a meaningful threat. Lynn hoisted him up to his feet, grunting slightly. She had more strength than a girl of her size should, and her hands were warm - not uncomfortably so - under the crooks of Gen's arms as she picked him up. Big fella. Lynn looked him over. He'd been hitting the sushi a little hard. Weird fingerless glove. Maybe a power thing, but given the faceplant, maybe just a virgin thing. Lynn didn't recognize him, which was surprising, given that she assumed his parahuman ability was his skin complexion.

"Up and at 'em, fish," Lynn said. Her hair was pulled back in boxer braids she'd idly given herself on the walk over, giving Lynn something of a more pronounced hood rat look than normal. She had the hoodie cinched around her waist and as tight a tanktop as Lynn's frail frame could manage over her. On the way, she'd wrapped her hands, which was getting to be economically infeasible. Even working to keep her power as dimmed down as possible, she was burning through them with relative frequency. Lynn's solution was to wrap them with aluminum foil before putting them in the gloves, which may have provoked laughter in the gym were it anyone but Lynn doing so. She figured she would lift weights or something too. But here was a Fish flopping around out of water. "You still have all your teeth?"
Lynn

Archie flinched back, and Lynn felt her features turn to steel. She wasn't about to let herself look like a pussy. Not in front of all these people. Then he turned and scampered off, his puppy tail tucked between his puppy legs, limping with a paw off the ground. There was a quick hurt, the deep hurt, the sort of Clarita and Megan hurt Lynn did not feel often but had thrown in her face every single day on this ship. It melted into anger quickly enough, and Lynn's hair and eyes began dancing again.

You stupid boy, Lynn thought, thinking Archie had to be even dumber than she was. No, she supposed - someone who trusts a fool is even more foolish. She turned and stormed away, losing herself in the crowd. Lynn was headed back to her dorm, which wasn't ideal - that's where anyone tailing her would expect her to go - but there was too much commotion and heat for her to feel safe with the doll in her backpack. Her feet carried her as her mind raced, her thoughts flickering as her eyes looked for tails in the mirrors of stores as she passed, tried to see if the faces around her appeared more than once. Mostly, Lynn was processing what she'd known from the first day.

Archie was going to die. He was a lost cause.

Either for the power he had, or for having the wool so far over his eyes it kept his fucking toes warm. Why would you grab me from behind? Lynn wanted to scream. Why would you make me hurt you? She threw open the mall doors and kept walking, smoke trailing off her ever so faintly. Archie was out. If he didn't have the smarts to handle this he was going to stumble across something big, bigger than he could realize, and run his mouth about it. Lynn didn't know what or when, but she was confident it would happen now. There are people here who kill children, she wanted to tell him. She had wanted to shout a dozen different things at him but her tongue had withered away inside her mouth. You fucking idiot // Let me get you cold water // Why would you grab me? // You have to get your shit under control, they'll give you the needle if you turn again // The burn isn't bad, I've...I've burned people worse // Archie, I can't sleep // You can't let them see you hurt, they'll only hurt you worse, you can't ever let them see // Archie did you see, at the restaurant, did you see -

Lynn was at her dorm. She fumbled with her key, wanting for one moment just to kick the door down, to kick something, to feel fucking anything. She slammed it shut behind her and locked it, then did her usual protocol of jamming her dorm-issued chair underneath the knob. Lynn leaned back against the wall, her body shaking for a moment. She was fairly confident, at least in this moment, Black and White weren't in here with her. They were back in the cafeteria. It wasn't a sure-fire bet, but it was a safe one. It was a better bet than any you'd get in Vegas. Lynn flipped her mattress over and drew out the kitchen knife she'd taken from the cafeteria. It was hard for Lynn not to take things. In her room were several stashes of of food and water bottles, silverware, extra clothes, cigarettes. Maybe tomorrow there wouldn't be any more food again.

Lynn held the blade in her hand for about thirty seconds, getting the metal red-hot. She blinked up at the smoke detector before remembering they'd disabled it on the third or foruth day after twice as many false alarms. Lynn sliced open the bottom of her cot, peeling back a hole near the foot of the bed. Not like she was tall enough for this to discomfort her, anyhow. Lynn placed the doll inside, holding it in her hand for just a moment before she did. Then she ran her hand across the synthetic material, fusing it back. You'd see it if you looked close, but it was as good to secure as she could get, and Lynn was sure if they searched her room, they'd bring along a Keaton-type who could figure it out even faster. It was all she could do.

Lynn sat on her mattress and stared at the wall, trying to puzzle out her next move. She still felt like a live-wire, from what Archie and B and W and all those other fuckers had done. Hopefully Keaton got something useful out of them, Lynn thought. She was too angry to sit still. What she needed was - Christ, she needed...Lynn picked up her phone and flipped it open, wheeling to her dealer's number.

CAN YOU GET ME -

Lynn stopped, hesitating. It was a bad idea. It was a really bad idea. She was in enough hot water with the fucking doll and B and W and God knows what else. If they got her on stuff like this it all came crumbling down. Even the Xan is too risky, Lynn told herself. It didn't change what she wanted. What -

Lynn was in the backseat of the car, no seat belt on, knees pulled up to her chin. Her feet couldn't have touched the floorboard even if she wanted them to. Beside her was her backpack, her reading assignments untouched. Lynn always felt guilty for not doing them, everyone else seemed to be able to do them, but it always seemed like she couldn't. The back door opened.

"It's time."

Lynn shook her head. "I don't...there's...can't we just go back?"

Che's face hardened. "C'mon. You said you'd do this. Are you a liar, Lynn?"

She didn't like his face going hard. He was handsome and he knew what to do. He was smart. He was safe. So if he was mad at her, that meant all of those things weren't true any more. Lynn wiped at her nose, sniffing. "Che, Che I don't..."

"Are you going to be weak your whole life?"

"No, I'm not weak, I just - he's huge, Che, he's even taller than you - "

Che stared at her for a minute longer, his dark eyes hard and cold. Lynn could never look at them for long. They reminded her too much of Lucy's parents, the Gardeners, the way they'd looked when they'd gotten hom from their anniversary dinner, and Lynn had turned the house's Christmas candles into one, singular candle. "It was a bad dream," Lynn had tried to say. "I got everyone out," she tried to say, but she couldn't. They had just stared.

She stared at her feet, buried under empty cans and used rigs and worn jackets. "Slide over," Che said. Lynn squirmed to the middle seat obediently, chewing at the worn bracelet on her arm. It'd been two years ago that she and Lucy and the others had gone to camp together, Lynn loving the campfires and figuring she could burn the marshmellows to get extra for herself. It had been the first time Lynn saw a sky full of stars. She heard the Gardeners were divorcing now. Lynn didn't really understand what it meant but she knew it was her fault.

"My...my parents will wonder where I am," Lynn said. "I should get back soon."

Che closed the door. "They won't wonder where you are. They're piss drunk by now. You'll be fine until sunrise. And they're not your fucking parents. Now listen - you're right. He's bigger. He's a lot bigger. He could hurt you. Bad." Che grabbed her hand and Lynn didn't flinch, eyes wide. He reached into his pocket and flipped out his knife. Lynn's eyes widened, a flicker of light starting to glow in her pale blue eyes. Her auburn hair, messy and unkempt, stayed its natural color, bangs drooping down almost to Lynn's eyes. It made Che grin. He pressed the knife to her forearm. "Do you trust me?"

Lynn nodded, wincing and looking away.

There was a sharp pain and Lynn yelped but Che grasped her arm tighter. "No. No screaming. Look."

Lynn looked back. The cut was already cauterized, and the skin stitching itself back together.

"He can't really hurt you. I," he said, his fingers like iron in her arm, "Won't let anybody really hurt you."

Lynn nodded. "I have to?"

"If you don't, Clarita goes hungry. She goes to bed with her stomach hurting and her hands shaking." Che looked up at her. "You have to. Because he's bigger. He's almost seven feet tall, for fuck's sake. The odds are insane. If you do this, I'll buy you all the food you can eat. I'll buy you any clothes you want. Because your entire fucking life, everyone is going to be bigger than you. And you have to fight them. Or else they'll toy you around. Are you their bitch, Lynn?"

Lynn shook her head, trying to force the tears back in her eyes. "No, no, I - "

"What was the video I showed you? You remember."

"...the boxer. He could beat anybody."

"And he was a half a foot shorter than all the heavyweights." Lynn hadn't liked watching it. He'd been so angry, so brutal. But there was something about it she could not turn away from, the way he could bring grown men to the ground in one hit, the way everyone cheered his name, the money - he'd made a million dollars in thirty seconds with one good punch.

Lynn looked back out the car. "...okay. Will - " she stopped herself. Che didn't like if she asked for things.

"What?"

"If I do it," she said quietly, "Will you teach me how to punch like him?" She waited, her heart hammering in her chest, somehow harder to ask the words than to think of stepping out of the car and into that room, where she could hear them cheering and shouting, drunkenly yelling. She'd be just like him. She'd be small but she would put them down.

Che grinned. "Yes. Here. I have something for you. It'll make you brave. It'll make it so it won't even hurt." He reached into his pocket and drew out his keyring, reaching into his jacket with the other. The cut on Lynn's arm was gone. Che was right. She couldn't get hurt. And if she didn't go in there, maybe somebody else had to. Che was gonna teach her. She would do this and he would take her back and then she would go to sleep and none of it would be real.

"Okay." Lynn said, pushing confidence into her voice. She wanted to be brave. Che drew out -


Lynn snapped the phone shut. She sat in silence for her room for a moment. For one vague moment, she considered doing schoolwork. "Oh, fuck that," Lynn said. She buried her Xanax deep in her backpack and changed into workout clothes. She was going to burn a hole through her bed if she sat on it any longer, angry as she was. Lynn had already racked up a fairly sizable maintenance debt, she was sure. If nothing else, punching something always cleared her mind. Lynn threw her phone and her gym clothes into a bag and slung it over her shoulder, her heart still hammering in her chest.

Yeah. Working out. That was good. That was...that was good.
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