It's...been awhile.
How... have you been? ^^;

Well, your reward is the longest chappy yet, almost 8000 words! (and stuff on DA as well~)
And... you might actually... enjoy this one :p

It'd be nice to refresh a little info, I didn't get to review all the stuff, (the summary page is helpful) since that'd be a stretch for my vocab, time, and endurance. *was relying on ice cream on this one*

Dumping the excuses of HS and life aside... have fun~ (and there may be the occasional sneaky typo... *sigh* Those things... snaking in there...)


The denial was nothing more than a murmur. The one, ordinary syllable exited so swiftly that nobody could review the voice's properties— they wouldn't even need to.

The group, which formed a jumble in the most unlikely of places, had already received samples from each other, whether in the form of an unnecessary outburst or a repeated inquiry. The answerer's tone was brand-new to the collection... not raspy nor striking, the word had exited from a speaker entirely unaffected by the hysteria.

"I'm not." The 'Erhard Muller' whose identity has just been disconfirmed by a bewildered detective restated without any hint of arrogance or hesitation. She callously readjusted her gun to match Ian's as Gary sluggishly flipped around in huge discouragement. The boy suspected contempt from her, and soon was partaking in demonstrating his heartbroken state with Alyssa by wincing. A similar pain had shot up his leg as his eyes changed to a sickly brown color. He had been with this teenager for the longest, yet in the very end, all that he learned turned out to be worth absolutely nothing.

Just watching the kid's assertive attitude being overwhelmed by three, simple words and a dark gaze shattered the already damaged composures of those who assumed the two orphans were childhood friends. If the twelve-year old's experience wound up fruitless, then the information they were given was surely flawed. Holding her ground next to Gary, a supportive Alyssa wanted to extend some sympathy, but with themselves standing between two firearms for an increasingly lost cause, it was impossible to move an inch.

The fall of grace hit Dr. Torres the worst. "I can't believe this, you—" She was compelled to commence a series of vicious questions towards her so-called apprentice...until a bump in her throat and a gut feeling Gabe would restrain her yet again inhibited her from barking at the alleged mute. The riled up woman could only whip her head to the diagnostician with a snarl though her clenched teeth. She sensed the heat from her palms when opening her fists; the seething rage within her being replaced with sheer frustration and desperation.

Dr. Cunningham, readily ignoring the possibility of getting pounded by the tigress, dropped the notion in which he saw the whole event as ironic. Though he came upon the imitator's real gender by pure chance, he didn't think the girl was also faking the disability— as for the outcome right here and now, the 'Master of Deduction' was as oblivious as the others. Reading the expressions of the adults circling the two pairs, the baffled doctor mumbled in the back of his mind, 'How can we all be this damn clueless?!' Intuition was telling him that the girl wasn't going through a rebellious phase...and it clearly wasn't her ugly temper either.

They weren't only staring at a train-wreck, they were buried in one. The straight-faced Gabriel wondered what destiny had to do with running into Hank at the worst of times: The fretful giant was outright confounded by it all. This big guy may have had little attachment to the mischievous squirt, however he was all caught up in the mess her accomplice made. The poor runt with the cast was probably aching inside and out now with all the action going down. Similar downcast thoughts entered Dr. Freebird's head.

Despite the heavy odds, Tomoe Tachibana still clung onto a shred of optimism. She purposely overlooked the fabricated profile and instead consoled herself with the fact the specialist, who digested the surprises so far with lost eyes, wasn't directly at gunpoint. To be exact, the misconceptions about 'Erhard' swayed popular opinion into thinking the prisoner was leaving against his will. Truth be told, if one looked beside the mysterious cloak, one would see the surgeon's fingers were interlocked with the teen's.

It wasn't after his copycat appeared to disown the bizarre alias did CR-SO1 acknowledge that the 'stranger's' hand had slipped down from his wrist long ago. The grip became a forceful squeeze when she risked getting killed on the spot by taking the first step away from the scene...

"Wait—!" Secret Agent Navel snapped when he boldly pushed past the endoscopic and orthopedic surgeons to confront his prime suspect. However, he only succeeded in getting the younger pair of kids to turn his way. Alyssa, with the accusations linking her to Naomi's bedtime stories, sent the blonde man a terrified glance and slipped back to Gary's side. Someone else elaborated off what what Little Guy said as he got distracted.

"You think we're going to believe that?" Ian rumbled, gradually shifting his gun to the direction of the specialist, then back. "Enough of the games, hand him over." He sternly commanded as the second officer automatically requested backup, strangely with no reply on the comms. Detective Holden hadn't noticed; he was processing the earlier words that were a potential lie. This pistol-wielding orphan had the disguise of being mute, why bother to defend when staying quiet was easier? And wouldn't it be more misleading to promptly ask back 'what are you talking about?'

With the ulterior motive far from the realm of guesses, the aged man hopelessly returned to his misplaced objective. The reticent girl recognized the pause from him as hesitation and naturally took advantage of it to mobilize. The last person she'd expect to obstruct her was the fellow orphan, who pinned her in place by snatching onto a raveled end of the cloak. He croaked at first, but the message was fathomable, "At least...you know who started the fire, right?" Maybe he didn't really get the situation, but here was his last shot to say something to the one he treated as an older brother.

'Erhard,' not anticipating to hear him bring up the arson yet again, offered the tiniest nod in response. It could've been seen as a confession with her melancholic frown, however Gary didn't even consider it. He relied on faith as he finished, "Promise me you'll find that guy... now run!"

The moment he let go, Ian and Navel both shouted the opposite order in vain. The ticket to leave was taken without regret; the somewhat-identical fugitives charged for the hall across from their pursuers. CR-SO1, aware that his freedom would never be the same, glimpsed back to watch his assigned caretaker greatly lower his aim in dismay. The convict instantaneously understood why he didn't gun them down: because the official had already organized forces outside to capture them.

So why not give up, why continue running when escape was utterly futile? He didn't have the opportunity to come up with any logical reasons— or more like, he had none.

Reactions varied among those left behind. The man bearing the duty to prevent the bio-terrorist from breaking out hastily dispatched the assistant with the Chief Surgeon to the original destination, the surveillance room. "Figure out what the hell was happening on the other side from the video and have helicopters ready on the south garage. Make sure backups are looking on the north one, too, take anyone suspicious into custody." He heard 'yes sir' as the answer from the subordinate before continuing, "If the one behind it was who the agent here thought it was... then..."

"So the threat tonight was a distraction? But the target was never a—" Little Guy chimed in as his cellphone buzzed from his right pocket. The caller ID labeled none other than the medical examiner, yet when he first talked on the line, he still included the customary 'Dr. Kimishima.' About right now was when he recalled his errand of picking up Alyssa, the child preoccupied with fetching Gary's other crutch and getting a hold of Chloe.

Half of the bystanders watched the second officer frantically issued instructions while tagging behind Esha, bolting down the hall where Tomoe and her group originated from. The other half were divided in who to be looking to for answers, though it was apparent that nobody had even the roughest explanation for any aspect of the frenzy. The attention mainly went to the blue-suited adult not long later, when he let loose a feeble 'what' with a rattled confidence. He then softly muttered 'alright' before clapping the cell closed.

Ian raised the arch of his shades as calmly as he could before catching the uncommunicative agent casting his eyes away from Mrs. Breslin and the remaining staff. He grunted irritatedly, "Mind sharing what the doctor said?" They wouldn't be able to keep the case topic a secret for much longer anyways, thus he didn't care if the eyewitnesses gained confidential data— it's not that they had a lot to spill.

"Dr. Kimishima is coming herself... and..." It was angering and counter-productive to note the forensic expert's arrival first, but Navel was going in order. "We were wrong. 'Raven' just struck as written in the threat. That means—" As expected from listeners who aren't up to date with the evidence, there were multiple interruptions.

"Who the hell is 'Raven?!'" "What do you mean by 'struck?'" "Did you just say there was a 'threat?'" A flustered Maria, a nervous Tomoe, and a Gabriel that was tired of living up to his title all sounded at once. Gary and Hank, mimicking their emotions, doubled up on the ladies' words while the fiery paramedic jerked forward to make their demands clear as day. The diagnostician, having pride in his unique question, was greatly aggravated when Dr. Tachibana added, "When you mentioned 'threat,' you don't happen to mean what you said earlier on the phone, correct?"

Before Alyssa could explain what she knew, Little Guy came to a weak sigh, directly when Holden cursed and wrapped up what he had disclosed, "So you're saying the forces that went after the decoy on the north side...there aren't going to be any more coming to this side with the robbery going on? Damn!" This was second time he had overestimated the opposition at Resurgam, the first incident being the wild helicopter chase fooling him not too long back. Ian's thick umber coat flapped in the air as he darted down the path ahead. Being the only one in the area capable of ending the charade, there was no point in wasting energy to reprimand the others for not notifying him earlier.

Meanwhile, the hall lights that were shut off during the lockdown began to flicker back on section by section. The portion where Dr. Torres and Dr. Cunningham stood at was the last to brighten, however the two already took off after the careless official (actually, Gabe was chasing Maria to stop her, and then the EMT was hunting down four-eyes).

The two staff members soon to trail after them developed eerie sentiments about the sudden malfunction in the building's lighting. The private investigator, seeming to pay no heed to the issue, directed Alyssa to wait for her mother before speeding off. Literally speaking, the daughter and her cat must stay put with the temporary resident here, who was moping with the broken leg as his handicap.

Although they were on a deserted floor, with adequate luminance, they weren't necessarily scared. Gary, having traversed this complex with terrible luck, still scoffed at the idea of sticking around. Unfortunately, this wasn't exactly the best time for an exploration, so back to standing in the middle of nowhere...Oh, do take note that the 'nowhere' had extremely colorful wallpaper not suited to his tastes. He commenced the complaints soon after.

"Hey, you know what the grown-ups meant when they said 'Raven,' right?"

The boy didn't pivot around in his condition, but obnoxiously had a pinky in his ear as he moaned, "I didn't forget what you said earlier, but it makes no sense." So what if he was just twelve, that doesn't mean he was dumb, though he himself thought he did well in acting it. "I just know that thief's not him, but why would they listen to me? So I kept going about the fire..." And his efforts did manage to delay the cops— too bad he couldn't pat himself on the back for that one.

Ms. Breslin rushed to come face to face with him. She chirped with Chloe almost in his face, "But he had a gun and a black cape...and could talk, too! How can you still trust him?" Her memory never grew fuzzy: this adolescent had three long years with the shady figure. Maybe this was testing the friendship she already was mindful of.

"Well..." Mr. Forester tilted his head in exhaustion; it would be puerile to declare 'it doesn't matter' when both of them had placed their lives on the line. Therefore he countered, "It's like me asking you 'why did you help?' I mean, come on, we just met today!" He tapped the end of one of his crutches on the tiled ground, expressing discombobulation; his blushed cheeks did a better job of that.

His temper steamed a bit when the benefactor hummed and concluded with a dainty smile, "I guess I did it... because we're friends, silly!" Defeated by her mirthful ways, the boy grieved over the elapsed time and rockily rotated himself to get another peek at the fugitive's getaway route. Hugging her cat more cautiously, the girl imitated him and said circumspectly, "I think they will make it..."

"They have to." The other grumbled; a bit presumptuous of him, but no harm came with wishful thinking, even if it was against the police. Thunder rolled in shortly, almost like nature begged to differ. "I think it's raining..." Unseasonable as it was, the storm didn't limit the electrical output of the edifice; it only hindered the ability of the other pair in slipping out fast enough.

The addition of a south lot was a crucial part in the updates to Resurgam's structure, and news the surgeon didn't pester himself with. Its installation, though considerably smaller than the sister garage, was to provide a more convenient parking area for the expanding staff and the first response team— and to reserve the former lot for the multiplying number of patients and visitors.

On the south side, there were three partially-vacant layers compared to the four ever-changing stories of the other. Both were pelted by bullets of water on their uppermost floor. But on the center floor of the faculty garage, the weather wasn't influencing the pursuit. The stone railings didn't secure every gap there was; the apertures were large enough for a smaller car or what the leader of the escapees hopped on after process of elimination, a general-sized motorcycle with a mighty and rowdyish design— a positive misfit for her.

The sudden deluge tricked the prisoner into portraying himself drenched and dripping wet. Perhaps it was due to his depressing prospect of being cornered and shipped back to prison. However, several derailing factors led him to assume... that as impossible as it may sound, he can make it out. Don't get him wrong, he never dreamt of this resort; he was perfectly compliant with the one-year deal. He recklessly blew that chance when he first let the troublemaker meddle with the tracker yesterday.

As for what made him see escaping a reality: "Where is..."

The gray skies were filled with nothing but rainclouds pouring away. Waves of hammering droplets were all he could hear— the militant choppers and swarms of cops were nowhere in sight. They couldn't have been late, so...missing? That was unacceptable. "How are they not here?" He didn't get a response from the one who relinquished her hold on him; instead he heard a roar from the ignition of the engine. That was from the second factor.

The key was already inserted when they reached the selected vehicle, that was why it qualified. The copper ring of keys was either left by a neglectful driver, or was somehow prepared...just like the alarming note. All the clues that fogged his mind were set aside when he realized the identity thief extending her hand out to him. While he was musing, she had positioned the motorbike to face a runway headed straight off the side of the concrete into the streets, now barraged by lesser amounts of rain.

He could comment on how dangerous the plan was, but then the last factor crossed his mind. He was reminded of it when Holden appeared, clutching a pistol about five meters behind him. The despondent man preserved a staid stance with slanted eyebrows as he said, "Don't even think about it." His common hoarse, stern tone was present even with all the drawbacks. Nobody else came to seal them off from leaving; justice wouldn't prevail, and he knew it.

The third indication was candidly the first. Few minutes back, the girl, equipped with nothing but an unused weapon and the purposeless cloak, fluidly opened the exit to this location. It doesn't require eight years in jail to understand the power of the term 'lockdown.' Both Ian and the real Erhard knew the squall wasn't the underlying cause of the system's dysfunction.

Those that advanced to the site behind the solitary detective refrained from approaching. From the doorway, none dared to mutter a thing except for the paramedic, "Don't shoot them!" Out of five adults, it was infuriating to be the only one voicing her opinion. The final judgement came to the shoulders of the chief running the operation, and that she refused to accept.

Was this what Rosalia wanted when she made her plea? For her big brother to be running from federals for the rest of his life?

The co-workers silently went to the corner of their eyes for a view of Maria being devastated by her own conscience, some ultimately looking to the sullen weather for comfort. Trapped in cold air, the woman tenaciously drew the courage to get nearer to the scene. The breath she intended for another bellow was cut off when something about the apprehensive teenager diverted her focus. "Hey! That's—"

The cluster speculating the scene were internally thrown over the edge when Chief Patel and the second officer revealed their presence... with a cruelly fired, 'inaccurate' warning shot. The pellet scathed the cement beside the license plate of the motorcycle, startling the indecisive specialist into losing his balance. Those farther off instinctively shouted cries of disbelief, assuming that he had taken the hit as he stumbled backwards. In the center, the caretaker was blinded by his outrage as a subordinate had overturned his authority. "Dammit!"

In that split-second, the girl's empty hand, which was stalled until now, lunged for the collar of the man's shirt as the rest of her body swerved the vehicle to break his fall. She inclined on impulse as the disoriented man landed on the remainder of the seat. Without giving him a moment to reposition or grip onto anything, the gas pedal was pressed down to the max. A sense of vulnerability and weightlessness then washed over him.

A tire screech and a howl from the machine attacked the ears of the observers in that mere instant. As many charged onward to grab a final glimpse from the ledge, the unidentified driver's stolen bike impacted and left a curved, black mark on the pavement. Ian, earliest to reach gap that was used, lacked the motivation to discharge any bullets when facing the obstinate resolve of the stranger. His stubborn arms dropped from the angle in which he pointed his revolver when he thought the expression was oddly reminiscent of the surgeon's.

"Who is this kid..." The bested detective whimpered in a cross manner while the followers peered below, astonished how the stunt ended in survival. The assistant, who set off the chain of events when he first pulled the trigger, resisted the urge to fire again, hopelessly watching the 'innocent' mass-murder reluctantly rotate himself and flee into the avenue. Gone.

"Was that... even legal?" Right after Gabriel, words and movement erupted with mixed emotions from the rest of the doctors as their former associate and 'volunteer' disappeared beyond the thick mist. The gloomy drizzle during the standstill soon intensified to a summertime tempest, driving the group away from the borders of the lot.

Dr. Cunningham, with his uncanny skills in deduction, was still not too pleased with himself. He bumped past Dr. Torres, rarely seen in such deep reflection, before asking the manager, "So why the nice visit? Thought you and the other guy went to peek at the cameras." Trying to keep his cool, he stuck his bored hands into the pockets of his tan pants.

"And I didn't give clearance to shoot then." Holden scolded dryly, the delirium from this humiliating failure sinking in. Putting up no dispute with the men, Esha strenuously folded her arms and gestured the diagnostician to send his complaints to the second outsider with FBI badge. In her opinion, her share of the havoc would be coming with filing all the paperwork and letters to everyone in the hospital and... the icky part, dealing with the pesky media. She'd also have to track down a replacement surgeon to take on the kid's appointments.

As for the errand Ian entrusted the deputy with, the man postponed his response because of the disrespect he acknowledged from overturning the detective's leadership once. To save himself from being regarded as a capricious rookie, he shook off the shame and almost reiterated what he told the Chief earlier, "Sir, the cameras were disabled an hour earlier, so there wasn't any feed to recover. When I tried to reactivate them, the power in the room shut off completely and the building—"

"Lit up with the locks opened." Holden tersely finished for him, since the facility's release of the lock-down command contributed to his downfall. Circled by many who pressed him for information and distant cars, he creased his forehead as he realized aloud, "Dammit, so it was him after all..." He reached for the walkie-talkie in his pocket, but lost interest when taking into account how it hasn't buzzed even once starting from when he left the elevators.

Those drowning him in their questions relaxed when Esha Patel announced a meeting in the conference room— the participation of Ian being mandatory, naturally. The manager didn't include Agent Navel, since Dr. Kimishima's visit would force him to linger anyways. Dr. Freebird and Tachibana were most docile with the arrangement and thus the earliest to return indoors; the diagnostician of the group was more antsy about Lady Spitfire's abnormal silence, but steadily strode along. The technical assistant was told to round up the police on the opposite side by the detective, who saw some benefits in hearing the medical examiner for any breakthroughs with the case.

The hospital's coordinator, renown for her high cooperative spirit and sometimes her fearlessness, lacked the supportive words for the unenergized EMT crew manager. When Little Guy departed for the inner premises, the high-strung woman set her hand on her waist, shifting her weight to one side in her indecisiveness to comfort the morose paramedic. With puckered lips and an intent glint from her hazel eyes, Esha stated, "Maria, there's nothing we can do about it now. We just have to... move on, you know?"

"Oh...It's you, Chief." The formalities still existed as the doctor whirled around in surprise. She figured it would be inane of her to object with what transpired, so she sighed, "Yeah, but I can't help but wonder if... we did the right thing." Before the other could speak in return, Dr. Torres glanced back to the dismal shower and assured, "You go ahead, I'll be there in a sec...Just need a breather." Rarely she let such unsightly clouds help her chill out, but the Chief was convinced enough to dismiss herself soundlessly.

One, isolated doubt was consuming her rather than bugging her. She wasn't fretting over the specialist, nor the mysterious doppelgänger, but her own actions. "Was that really the right thing for me to do...?" Her voice died down just when a brutally-loud thunderclap and sudden gale-force winds threatened her back into the main building, where she may soon learn to regret her involvement in the 'kidnapping.'

It didn't matter how far or how fast they went, they were both soaked through. Luckily, the driver wasn't zipping into mud puddles, so none of their clothes had been soiled. Still, the passenger knew all too well that his semi-transparent dress shirt was minimal protection against the blasting currents— which were from the combination of this foul weather and the motorcycle's speed...an gut-wrenching experience almost equivalent to his years in the icebox.

Wishing they had helmets, CR-SO1 was stuck looking off at the right side in the course of it all. Basing off of the fact he could barely view the partly-flooded road ahead of them, much less the blurred sidewalks, he accepted that even his best conjecture of where they were headed to...would be off. As soon as the downpour became a mild sprinkle, she may decelerate, and he would have his chance to mutter something without his words being blown away.

Scratch that. There were too many stray questions to ask, and no promise she'd even reply. Her slightly irritating, buoyant mood that might have welcomed those sort of interactions had been abandoned a long while ago. And even so, it was humiliating to not have an idea of how to initiate a talk. Technically, his situation and status were already screwed up to the point where there was nothing he could do to make amends; the present reality basically turned into some twisted game of survival.

Maybe the selection of words was too harsh, but this afterthought still didn't shake the description. If the over-defensive government and armies of police were afraid to act, then there must have been a third-party keeping them at bay. He deliberated over what the seemingly removed girl had to do in this, gradually the will to raise even a word died. The tiny mental breakdown from the crisis behaved like a daydream— when the undamaged bike came to a halt at a red light, something the teenager dared not to do before, his eyes were still drifting off to the dreary, dampened, environment.

The male escapee expressionlessly observed the crossroad's rusty streetlights, dilapidated buildings, and uninteresting traffic. With no patrol cars or any other possibly hostile forces in the vicinity, the decision for a break was a no-brainer. Too ill at ease to relax her clutch on the handlebars, the motorcyclist caused the engine to sputter occasionally; as if from impatience.
Even though there was another person, unnoticeably fastening himself to the only other post, her, the bitter cold was scarring. The precipitation rendered her helpless in expressing the wreckage of emotions in her head. The stop gave her the instance to settle on a real destination, and to hide from the gust that picked up from behind them. With the next go signal, she kicked off the pavement, steering rather unpredictably at turns.

The winding route that cut through downtown led to an area secluded enough to be titled suburban. The prisoner didn't bother taking record of the street names. However when the driver turned the ignition off at the edge of a empty street, CR-SO1 put some effort in scanning the spread-out neighborhood, most of his attention going to the largest house they parked in front of. Lacking a proper plaque or label, the two-story structure had a vintage appearance with bushes as a fence and unevenly tinted bricks on the outside.

The taller of the two spotted a light that once came from a now shuttered window on the higher floor. He couldn't make out much else with the bleary conditions. With water dripping rather than running down his saturated clothing, the rain neared an end— the longing for elucidations were swapped with the material needs of a new wardrobe, a bed, and if his appetite reappeared, dinner. Before he set foot on the walkway, he took note of the girl's leader-like personality overtaken by a grievous aversion.

She intended to rip off some sort of gauze-like tape that was streaming out past the collar of her soddened outfit; it was consequently exposed from enduring the vigorous action and accursed weather. Just when the doctor could raise a comment, not only was the slack already torn and shoved angrily into a wet pocket, an astonished woman with autumn-colored hair carrying a traditional black umbrella and a sack of groceries sounded, "Oh...you're..."

The stranger, wearing a bold cyan dress, may have recognized the convicted mass-murder off the bat, but her auburn eyes were directed at the other visitor as well. It was a short-lived recognition, as she then drew her gaze to the front door unlocking from within. The rainfall discontinued as the commotion behind the slab of wood and metal loudened with multiple voices and footsteps. To be more exact, the assumption of a matured female drowned in the fussing of a mob of small fry; or the patterned knocks of boots on tiles bombarded by a cyclone of eager stomps.

"Stop fooling around, it's just Elise. I'm too busy for this tug-of-war."

"No it's not!" "I saw from the window! It has to be..." "Yeah, remember what I said about the mall?!" "Just open the door and you'll see!"

"Please, you don't need me to open the—" A blonde lady of approximately the same age as the pedestrian the duo 'bumped into' revealed herself among a rapacious mountain of children. As the rest of the squirming 7 and 9 year-olds tested the hinges of the obtrusive wooden wall, she wiped the overburdened scowl from the petulant grouse off of herself.

The fateful assembly consisted of catatonic stares, or the reverse, smiles of pure amusement. The latter distinctly on the faces of the adolescents about to bulge past the adult bearing a stoic eye on the newcomers— the harrowing anticipation welling up for the specialist when he spotted the foreboding, grayish-blue eyepatch over the right eye of the presumed manager. With his ignorance almost perpetual, he diverted himself hopelessly to the nosy swarm behind her. In the meantime, Elise and the unnamed teen, one uneasy and one no longer looking askance, were both stunned when the glint in the orange eye of the supervisor appeared when her outstretched arm banged the abused door shut. It was as if the two group never met.

A separate storm raged on in the house with the noisy rush of fleeing kids. Whatever warning that was used was effective no doubt, but the entrance had buffered that from the trio's ears.

"Well—" Was the neutral yet skittish reaction of the shopper as she perched the end of the umbrella she closed on the gravel pathway. Almost remissly in her gait to the doorstep, she failed to even seem inquisitive about the man. When she whirled back to survey the swollen black clouds and a streaks of purple lightning, the resident who rudely closed off the shelter 'retried' the meeting with only herself as the receptionist.

"Take care of the tykes...paper read that we're getting another wet episode tonight." That and with a fling of her bangs from her peeved mood, the one-eyed woman had curtly beckoned Elise to rush indoors. Playing with the cerulean tie on her sailor-like apparel, she sustained a defiant disposition for the foreigners, one of them developing an uneasy sentiment about the hostess' mocking grin. "Isn't this...fascinating." What she saw as riveting the surgeon had difficulty getting down to.

Outside of his collected composure, CR-SO1 couldn't flesh out a decent impression of anyone here. That teasing attitude of the blonde blocking the refuge eroded away into a humorless one the instance she and 'Erhard' traded quick glances. To the doctor it appeared to be some form of agreement, but the presumed benefactor scurried around the woman, unmindful of the trail of rainwater that sprayed the wooden planks.

A lurking thunderstorm resounded, yet it was treated with the highest disregard from the gatekeeper of the property. "Even if neither of us is landlady of this hovel, doesn't mean..." Even with her unimportant depreciation of the girl's ill-mannered arrival, to him the apathetic and impenetrable traits were a good justification of why he was postponing a blind entry into uncharted territory; the comment about a 'hovel' didn't cut it at all.

"I certainly wouldn't take you as an ingrate, doctor. This shouldn't be a tough decision on your part...Get in."

There was a numbness behind his neck the second he took in the insults. His foot purposely slid forward, not under the intention to comply, but to protest. "Exactly who are all of you—" Before he could emphasize his involvement, the woman, who he didn't see cleaning her nails when she let out that ridiculing recruitment pitch, was practically gone from her post. The thwarted specialist biliously moved toward the structure, later timidly probing the first room he stumbled upon, a spacious dining room.

That lady he meant to question was imputing numbers into a cheap, obsidian-black cellphone. She paused and grunted satisfactorily to herself as the guest came to the realization that the lobby-sized area was a mess hall. Not putting in account of the contributions he was making to the puddles on the floor, he spoke with a cracked voice, "This place... is an orphanage?" Recalling the agglomeration of youths the woman had banished from the front and now the view of this Thanksgiving-like setting as the main chamber, the conclusion was not too surprising for the one on the phone.

With a hint of faux shock, she chimed back while folding back her sleeves a little, "Ironic, right? Anyways if you'll excuse... Oh." Apparently the call was picked up, and she strayed to the farther end of the long-table. The untreated newcomer, after taking in the expanse of the building, remained unrelieved at the lack of action surrounding his presence. He thought about getting lost rather than stand idly and damage the wood beneath him. The sophisticated air around that wayward receptionist, who didn't precisely fit the unruliness of that copycat, heightened when he caught onto what she said into the device:

"So I heard your nickname is now 'bookworm.'" There was a moment for her to snicker, probably at the violent shouting on the other line after her note. She patched up her greeting with a darker tone, "It's Candice. After you're done, I need you to check the status of someone named Erhard Muller...and just so you know, Sparrow is back."

With the complete transaction of the message, she loudly clapped the phone shut and addressed the dismayed eavesdropper with weakly crossed arms, "This isn't a mystery that'll stump you. You have four names, you have four adults." She airily trotted closer while instructing him on the word association game, but her intended direction was headed for a hall to the left of him. "The kids already gave you a freebie with Elise."

In an uninterested fashion, she twirled away from the fugitive, who was left on his own devices until now, and added less casually, "Room's upstairs and the farthest to the right...I presume you're starving, but please try not to drown us all in the process with your speed. If you know what I mean." That menacing left eye shot a look at his waterlogged condition, not disgusted, though not delighted, either.

A long breath escaped CR-SO1 as he struggled to hold back the rest, and the majority, of the inquiries. He had some assurance from the talkative-ness of that woman, and the fact she spilled out many names after such a criminal offense was made...The widening enigma about the copycat who had a distinctive appellation, for starters. Caught up in all of that, he hadn't made an single movement toward the traditional wooden staircase.

"Look at you, swimming in your little pond over there." At such a far distance, Candice was being metaphorical with her frustrated chide. Rumbling thunder amplified to a vicious series of crackles as she reminded him to get a move-on, "It's late, and if you really need an incentive: You can ask whatever you want tomorrow morning." This time, her self-dismissal was followed with a grumble, "He's different from the usual doctors..."

"I'll say it once and only once."

The attention of five staff, two agents, and a pair of adolescents fell upon the forensic expert sitting in the primary swivel chair inside the conference room while poising a pen over a manilla file. Dr. Kimishima had been doing so for the past few minutes as those seeking explanations filled the space inside. Though her role in the poorly-timed get-together was the most imperative, she indifferently folded her legs, not concerning herself with how the listening crowd was all on their toes, still high-strung by the turnout of the night.

In all honesty, the one suited to this responsibility was the detective; his credibility wasn't severely flawed, but perhaps the Chief Surgeon hoped the medical examiner would divulge more. "The alias you know as 'Raven' is a group of federal-targeted thieves. It's not a single person like what they believe." Sadly that finding was not music to Ian's ears. "Their string of robberies has been unbroken for eight years...the case was put aside when the streak became inactive three years back. It's been revived after the Carson accident and the theft this afternoon." The humiliation wasn't necessarily on her shoulders, however admitting such things harmed the reputation of officials, particularly the man who had been pursuing this longer than herself.

Naomi anticipated a respective silence, so she inserted the ball-point pen into the folder and insouciantly got up. She glanced to Alyssa, the girl who sensed herself on pins and needles to see her adoptive mother bringing the favorite bedtime story into everyone's reality. The boy she determined to be a 'friend' experienced a disheartening sting from something that was mentioned. Since his testimony wasn't worth sharing, he continued to grip the crutches uncomfortably, his stomach starting to act up.

Most were unresponsive to the exclusive peek into federal business, but Dr. Cunningham, who normally would 'half-ass' through daily life, might as well embrace the next future 'hazard' of his medical career with open arms. "Plus, that threat thing your agent mentioned?" He, well over exerted from the drama, and Little Guy, hiding Alyssa's reckless move to shield the armed suspects, were closest to the door, both least likely to leave the discussion open-ended. Gabriel allowed himself to crush the used cigarette in his pocket as he summed up the problem at hand, "And for the record, what does any of this got to do with the specialist?"

"There were always threats and notices from 'Raven.'" Ian snarled back before Navel could mutter anything. The older clarified his position in the intertwined cases, "If we knew someone planned to abscond the prisoner, we wouldn't have given him the deal." His thick coat became heavier to him, as he was burdening the fault of not taking full pursuit— the personal reason was concealed under an occupational excuse, "Only private investigation forces are permitted to deal with the thieves... Government threw out federal involvement few days ago." The explicit orders were absurd, and arguments filed right after:

Dr. Torres exploded at that from the other side, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" She threw her palms onto the laminated surface in front of her while Ian checked his walkie-talkie for any recent breakthroughs other than 'they fled scot-free.' Esha, Tomoe, and Hank, her neighbors in the assembly, drew the same responses, none coming to the aid of the caretaker's side of the debate. Maria, sick of government intervention, attempted to recap what was being told with little restraint on her ire, "You're saying, even when the kid you were in charge of was on the line, you can't do a damn thing because—"

"Quiet down. There are a significant amount of rumors that link the very case with the indigenous mafia. Isolating one out of many won't do any good, doctor." Under immense pressure, the man pulled down his shades to come face-to-face with the paramedic. "You want that surgeon back alive, right? I didn't have much of a choice if the threat was real." Those on the sides could only picture the light, fatigued eyes of the federal while the EMT's will to reject the unfair regulations depleted at the sight of Naomi slightly nodding to the opponent's controversial explication.

Avoiding a reprise of a defeated quarrel, the tigress receded from middle. The co-workers offered little commiseration for her endeavor as they absorbed the fragments of evidence. With the rest of their puzzlement unable to be voiced in words, they watched the detective slip his sunglasses back on with exhaustion and departed accordingly, as if the state of affairs didn't ruin his routine. With his own trial of covering up the incident from the public, no one intercepted his departure.

"There's another storm approaching tonight... let's leave it at that." Dr. Kimishima finalized for the discussion, one hand extended to Alyssa while the folder rested in the other. Being led out, the anxious girl muttered out a goodbye meant for the distrait Tomoe and Gary, all the while hugging Chloe somewhat tightly to stay calm. The blue-suited attendant was the fourth to proceed along, austerely accepting the farewells of the Resurgam staff for his boss and her child.

Dr. Tachibana, keeping in mind that the solidifying attitudes of the room are tarrying the healing of the doctors from the crisis, clasped her hands together and expanded on what Naomi had passed along, "Some of us should help the others with checking on the patients... " Bringing her best possible smile to the group, she gestured the disconsolate teen. "Mr. Forester, I'll return you to your room. With that, I believe we should all at least have some dinner..." Shy to advert awareness to the time, the woman hastened her parting with the boy cagily tagging behind.

"Uh, Tomoe— I need to..." The dark-skinned Chief Surgeon sighed at her inability to stay punctual. She thought Hank or Maria was next to walk out on this, but after a tad of silence, it was clear that they were still reviewing what befell them. "I guess I gotta find someone to take that kid's place..." Contrary to what she just said, she was driven aback when Gabriel cut her off from the door. "What now, can't you see I'm already tied-up? Forget about your—"

"It's not that." The olive ponytail of the diagnostician was tossed to a side as his complaint was made, "This is something that came to me after Tomoe mentioned it— the patients. I know there were cannons and whatnot going about the hospital, but...that's beside the point." His tolerance and cool, hard to redeem after a bike show, were struggling to keep insults from sliding out of his mouth. "Couldn't you just use RONI to, you know, deliver the red alert?" As much as he would love to criticize his manager's uncomely reaction on the PA, he would have to cut her the slack, since Holden was really the one to fan the embers that resulted in turmoil.

She cringed as if the thought bit her in the back of the throat. "W-well, the thing is... Rapid Organiza-whatchamaycallit...went sorta out of service with the surveillance footage." The doctor's response to his 'dead' terminal was split for that news. Before rounding off her defense, Esha eased back the strings of her violet-red hair that have separated from the bun and top of her head. "Don't worry, the thing should be running by now...Thanks for reminding me." Totally evading her colleague's real point, she wondered if she had just psyched herself from getting back to work. With the two doctors yet to make much of a comment, the lady took off at a dithery pace.

"So, Gabriel, about tonight's arrangement—"

"The guy who told me about the place said to come tomorrow. Nice call, huh?" A passive answer from Dr. Cunningham, who was almost knocked for a loop when he nearly forgot the schedule change. He would've ran along now, just as polished as the other cohorts...

"You two are talking about that night out?" Maria, lacing herself into the fresh chat, positioned her wrists on hips bearing some resignation. She braved a few strides back and forth with the men curiously overseeing.

The two war veterans both had no clue what was plaguing the paramedic, and the doctor fixing the stethoscope from strangling him choked out as a remark, "How did you...so... you're wanting in? Er..." It's not that he didn't want it, actually, that Jet person did ramble about the woman's connection to his unlikely drop-in. But as 'great' as it would be to have a third member, (Oh yeah, he forgot about the bill, that patient better be taking care of it.) he had this really iffy sensation, which wasn't the nicest feeling in the world. "Something wrong over there?"

"Put that on the side... I was kinda just thinking about that ride the kids stole." Dr. Torres leaned to the side while dropping her tired arms from her sides, cuing someone else to add on.
Hank raised a glance to his buddy for a more fancy phrase than 'it's unfortunate.' To his astonishment, Gabriel made a brusque shrug and remark, "Sucks for whoever it was, the keys must've gotten left behind." For a guy that never reached out with much 'fellow feeling,' he couldn't call himself cruel for such a coherent statement.

Flipping away, the EMT emitted a growl that was just a snippet from her fit of pique. Obviously not getting the picture, the associates traded crooked eyebrows. The fundamental participant of the 'restaurant visit' decided compromise must have been the solution for the AMI.

"Eh, Maria...?"

"Shut up, Gabe. Listen me out first..." A dry throat obstructed her path from a clean exposition of the matter. Taking care of that with a gulp, she straightforwardly pointed out, "Those keys weren't left out there by some moron. I know that because...the bike the kids stole, was mine."

HaHAH. Take that, cliffhanger!
Hrm... you may have jumped back into the upper middle to check on what Maria said earlier. :O
And, yeah, finally, the OC has a name rather than CR's. . And I'm moving Elise back in and landing a more important OC (who I'm sure some of you would know from the Archetype series~)

Okay. I'm gonna make the questions real simple:
1) Whose side are you rooting for to be the victor in this conflict: The Federals or *coughwhereCRissorta*? Or are you just Resurgam members, stuck in the middle of nowheres?
2) So...um... which OC stand out most to you so far, personally, characteristic-wise? (Because, I'll just point out, there is information going back to the way earlier chappies about people I'm preparing to assimilate into here...)
3) Do you see one straight flow of the plot, or a fork in the story at this point?
4) Even though 'Erhard' (lol I'm sure you saw the name in the chappy, but staying safe from skimmers) has been around since the first chapter...considering all that just happened...are you still comfortable reading with that OC lurking about?
5) Explain what you think really caused Resurgam's breakdown...
6)Oh yeah, you got a favorite quote yet? XD