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     Steady. Steady. Take a sip. Unsleeve, not too much, just right. Five 
seconds. Five seconds left.
     Of course it never really felt like five seconds. Whenever he was making a 
lift, it felt like forever. Not like how people describe being hit by a bullet, 
or falling in love or something like that, but literally. Mark felt as if time 
slowed for him, that he got that extra moment to make the grab. He couldn't 
really explain it, but it happened.
     And that was part of the rush. Mark really didn't need the money that 
badly, he just enjoyed the rush of adrenaline and that brief, but decidedly 
_extra_ moment. However, he though, he really wouldn't mind the extra cash, and 
it would help some of the kids who can't lift yet.
     The target was wearing a long pea green trenchcoat, matching with his long 
blond hair. This pleased Mark to no end. Some people are just retarded enough 
to leave their wallets in loose, heavy clothing. Almost as if they wanted to 
just _give_ it away, for 'charity'. Mark chuckled to himself, silently of 
course, one hundred percent of all proceeds go to the needy.
     Homing in. Mark was picky, he wasn't afraid to admit it. He didn't like 
bumping into people, it was too obvious and you never know what these people 
carry around these days. He also didn't really like to hurt a target. Mugging's 
for thugs. Figures that lifting his wallet hurts him enough, don't need to off 
the guy. Take another sip.
     Time slowed. With perfect clarity, Mark saw the guy's jacket, the billows 
his wallet was making in the pocket, his own hand in the overextended sleeve, 
and nothing else. Hand out, grab, hand in, sip. Perfect, as always. Mark held 
out a few seconds longer, relishing his sip of the convinience store cola 
before breathing an overdramatic sigh of relief. No reaction from the long-
haired guy. He looked down at his prize. Looks like the squirts are going to 
have dinner tonight.

     And out of the corner of his eye he could have seen a blinking red light 
moving among the crowd. But he didn't, and he turned the corner, into a 
deserted alleyway.



     It probably wasn't safe to go through someone's wallet in the open like 
that, even if it was in an alleyway, but Mark didn't care. That guy was so 
oblivious, it'll probably take him a while just to figure out he got lifted in 
the first place. Sometimes Mark felt sorry for suckers like them, but only when 
he wasn't watching the little ones starving.
     A bunch of used cashcards, looks like the guy collects them. Kinda cute, 
I'm sure the kid will love 'em. He ran it through the pocket scanner he bought 
with one of his first lifts. Enough for quite a few fast food 'meals'. Perfect.
     Left. Right. Drop the drink. He knew these alleys and back ways better 
than he knew the back of his hand. He doesn't study the back of his hand too 
often. Left. The backalleys, to him, are like the other side of the city, an 
odd inverted reflection. It's pretty much the opposite of the city, narrow, 
dark, reeking, empty.
     That isn't to say there aren't people in the alleys, far from it. It's 
just that most of them seem to have nothing better to do than sit on their 
butts in whatever shelter they've made. Mark doesn't blame them, most of them 
are too old or too young to go out and do what he does. On the other hand, most 
youths don't go out and do what he does. Clean lifting, none of this mugging 
stuff. Take what's necessary to live, no point wasting all your money getting 
all jazzed up on chems.
     Mark jazzed once. He also screwed up a lift once. Once. Can't see 
straight, can't act straight, can't pick a good hit. Moves you crazy fast 
though. Got off easy on that one, luckily the chems had started to wear off the 
the cops got to him. Had to do some stupid commune service though. Never saw 
how wiping windows helps the community though. Mark still kept the squeegee, 
keeps it around for good luck, and a constant reminder not to jazz.



     Left. Mark counted (was it the third or the fourth box from the right? Or 
was that from the left? I heard they changed). He placed his hand readily at 
his squeegee, just in case. He had modified it with money from a lift once, so 
it'd be extendable and strong enough to give someone a good whack. Can't be too 
careful living on the other side of reality. He hopes it's not the big crazy 
guy with the heart and dagger tatoo.
     He knocked on the third large box from the left. It was almost his height, 
and almost cubic. These boxese would have been used to carry very large 
shipments of things in smaller boxes. He considered that a waste, but at least 
it provided safe housing. It had rained recently, and the box was beginning to 
sag slightly, but was dry enough to make the unmistakable thud of cardboard. A 
makeshift door on the box opened a crack, Mark took a step back.
     "Hey little one,"
     "Uncie Mark! Yay! I'll go wake mom and bro!" chirped a little voice. The 
girl was six, and cute as a button. She didn't deserve to be out here in the 
cold. She was the kind of stuff that holiday charity commercials were made of, 
as if they ever gave money to the poor. Mark preferred his method of charity.
     "No, no, don't wake them up, just give them this cash card." Mark said, 
handing her the wallet.
     "Never mind it, we're all up anyways," that would be her brother. He was a 
skinny kid, around twelve or so. He should be able to start lifting soon, but 
for now they relied on Mark.
      "Good, you're all here. Picked this up just now, it'll be good enough to 
get all of you guys three squares, for about half a week."
      "Dude, you're gonna start teaching me how to lift soon, right?"
      "Don't be so impatient. You're lucky you have a teacher in the first 
place, I had to learn by watching."
      "Yeah, yeah."
      Mark saw the blinking red light peeking out behind the boxes this time, 
now that the shine and glare of the city lights were far behind him, had to be 
the cops, this couldn't be a good thing. Especially not with the kids around.
     "Anyways, listen, I gotta go, so say hi to you mother for me, okay?"
     "You already have," an older female voice. The mother of the two kids. 
Mark wasn't sure if she was actually their biological mother of the two 
children (he wasn't even sure of their first names). She was pretty kind and 
caring, but her leg 'isn't as good as it used to be'. He'd love to stay and 
chat, hear some of her anectdotes. But not today, he needed to be out of here, 
now.
     "Bless your heart, Mark, you're a modern day Robin Hood."
     "Thanks Mrs. Johnson, I just do what I can. I really want to see these 
kids grow up to be someone, and they can't do that if they're starved to death, 
right?" Mark didn't know what a Robin Hood was, but he took it as a compliment.
     "Ha ha, yes. Do you really have to go already? Couldn't you perhaps stay 
for dinner?"
     "I'm afraid I have to go now, something's come up. Maybe tomorrow, sound 
okay?"
     "Sure, any time is great by us, right kids?"
     "Yeah!" in unison, in a way that only kids could
     "Sounds great, have a nice night, you three."
     "You too Mark."
     Mark waved to the kids, and left, noting the blinking red light in the 
reflection of a broken window, and sped up ever so slightly.



     A dead end. In his haste, Mark had neglected which way he was going. Sure, 
back of his hand. The situation didn't look good. No other way out, and he was 
sure the light was still tailing him. Once again he let his hand rest on the 
squeegee, took his other out of his sleeve. A mechanical humming behind him 
now.
     "You are under arrest, please allow this Unit to guide you to the nearest 
city office."
     "Please? So, 'officer', what am I being charged for?"
     The Unit was a floating grey ball, slightly smaller than a basketball, 
with an antenna sticking vertially out the top and a camera and blinking red
light in front. The Units were modular, and different option units, controlled 
by the main Unit could be equipped and float alongside it. Units were mostly 
for petty crimes, and normally just carried shockers and a containment unit, 
this one looked weird though, it had a third option unit, something like a 
small black cannon.
     "Please allow this Unit to guide you to the nearest city office"
     Something's wrong, they normally read out the list of charges. This is not 
good, this is definitely not good.
     "And what if I don't want to?"
     "Resisting arrest, action will be taken" and cannon-like unit began to 
give its own hum."
     Definitely not good. Mark made a decision and said a silent prayer.



     "Resist this!"
     Mark brought the squeegee over his head, and brought it down hard on the 
unit's camera. The lens shattered, and sparks flew everywhere. The side units 
fell in unison with the main Unit, Mark was lucky and hit the power source. 
He's heard about people doing this, hit the power source and you're safe, 
otherwise there's a chance it'll detonate if it thinks it's a good idea. Other 
Units will be sent to check this one. Have to start running. Now.
     Right. Left. Mark took a careful look at the alleys he was travelling now, 
glancing out to the occasional open corridor to check the other face of the 
city for landmarks. That was the thing about the alleys, everything looks the 
same; horrible. Left. The soft mechanical hum was elevating again behind him, 
the sterile droning joined by another and another. Mark did not like the 
situation at all. What did he do? There was no way a Unit could have seen his 
lift, it was too perfect. What was happening?
     And that was what he asked again a second later, when he tripped and went 
flying over a wet pizza box to land on his chest. He got up and turned around. 
The Units were approaching, and this time they had their weapons readied.
     Mark felt time slow down again. All around him, like it was a real thing. 
Like the signature burning pink specks of the Unit's heat weapon just decided 
to slow down for him. That was the thing about heat weapons, they're designed 
so you don't see the shot, but they have a tendancy to burn the dust in the air 
surrounding them. He watched as the first mass of burning dust passed by his 
right temple, and he could feel the heat against his skin. He dodged a second 
one, aimed at his torso, whizzed past, almost singeing his plain white t-shirt.
     "Don't just stand there kid! Do something!"
     A bright blue-white beam, apparently some sort of pulse weapon, struck the 
left Unit from above and to the right, decimating it before it had a chance to 
fire it's weapon. Mark had seen pulse weapons before on tube. They were being 
tested by the army, but not for commercial use yet, we at least he didn't think 
so. Mark nodded. He hoped the shooter saw him. And with that he took the 
squeegee and ran forward. He hoped this is what the shooter wanted.
     For the second time tonight, Mark defiled government property, which he 
didn't really mind considering what he does for a living wasn't perfectly legal 
anyways. The busted Unit and the option units swung around, the blunt stunner 
catching Mark hard in the stomache before all three stopped their methodic hum 
and fell. As Mark crouched over, grasping his stomache, the shooter let out 
another blast, downing the third of the Units. Mark wasn't sure if he was 
better off with the units or the guy with the experimental and obviously highly 
leathal weapon, and who was obviously not afraid to use it.



     A boy, maybe a bit older than Mark jumped down from the emergency stairs 
above him, landing perfectly. He had shoulder length greyish hair, the right 
side of which was crested up somewhat loosely (perhaps with hairspray), not 
unlike Mark's own spiked bangs. He had matching greyish eyes, and long lines 
across his cheeks. He was dressed in a loose-fitting white and blue shirt and a 
pair of khakis. At the time, he was adjusting his gloves. He also did not have 
a gun.
     "You idiot. You should've ran."
     "How was I supposed to know you meant that?"
     Probably not the best way to talk to someone who might have a pulse 
weapon, but Mark was quite fed up with all the weird things happening this 
night, first the Units acting all weird, now this kid who came to save his ass.
     But the boy didn't answer, instead, he knelt next to the Unit Mark had 
smashed. He opened the control panel and did something to it. Mark didn't see 
quite what the boy did, but the blinking red light on the top of the Unit 
flashed twice and died off.
     "What does Etrus want with you?"
     "I have no idea! The stupid Unit just stopped me for no go reason and 
tried to arrest me!"
     "Are you sure you didn't do something?" The boy's eyes narrowed. Mark 
could tell that despite the fact that the boy was not well built, nor was he 
that much bigger or taller than Mark, he was not one to be messed with. Plus he 
had a real big gun somewhere.
     "Well I picked some guy's pocket before, but I gave the money to some 
needy children, really."
     "Sure, whatever. No, I mean have you done anything directly to the Etrus 
government or it's subsidiaries?"
     "What?"
     "Never mind, follow me" With that, the boy turned around and started 
walking towards to light to the streets outside.
     "Are you insane? That Unit just tried to seriously harm me, and you want 
me to go out in the open? What do you want with me? I don't even know your 
name!"
     "Not that I know of; yes, it's safer than in here where there are no 
witnesses; I'm not quite sure yet; and I don't either, but you can call me 
Silver."
     "Wha? You're crazy. No way." Mark considered his chances of survival if 
not for this 'Silver', especially with all the Units acting psycho today. For 
the second time that day, Mark made a decision he had a feeling he'd regret.
     "Ummm... wa-wait up!"



     Mark rounded another corner to join the grey haired boy. There was an air 
of grace about him, something in the way he walked. It was obvious he didn't 
live on the streets, his clothes and hair showed that. A lack of ruggedness, 
Mark supposes. On the other hand, though, he didn't look like someone who lived 
a life of luxury, or even middle class. It was odd, and Mark couldn't put his 
finger on it.
     "So what the hell just happened?"
     "You were being tailed"
     "I know that, but why?"
     "I don't know, don't you?"
     Mark shook his head. Not much of a talker, this one. Regardless, Mark 
followed him along. He learned long ago not to talk to strangers, but he also 
knew not to cross those you're in debt to, especially those who are dangerous.
     "So what kind of name is Silver?" Mark tried small talk, despite noise of 
the sleepless city, it seemed awfully quiet. "Is it a nickname?"
     "I'm not sure, all I know is that they call me Silver"
     "Umm.. okay. So where are we going?"
     "You'll see."



     And Mark did. Silver had led him to and old brick building, off an alley 
on the street. It wasn't exactly city and it wasn't exactly street. Sort of in
-between. A green and blue neon sign proclaimed it's name, 'ClubSquaredCube', 
and beneath it, 'bar and lounge'. Mark had never been in a bar before, much 
less a lounge. He preferred the great outdoors, if in fact the backalleys could 
be called such. He felt safer knowing that there'd be a bit of distance to 
cover between him and the nearest potential threat.
     The lineup outside were mostly kids that were his age or older. Mostly 
street kids though, not a lot of city people. Male and female, clothes and hair 
of all colours. Something was odd about the group though; while most street 
people were cautious of other people, especially city people, these guys and 
girls were together and mingling like they shared some common bond. The bouncer 
at the front of the line looked to Silver and Mark.
     To say the bouncer was a bit odd was an understatement. He was a very 
skinny, very tall boy, a bit older than Mark and Silver. He was wearing a tight 
orange turtleneck looking shirt pulled up to his nose, covering his mouth. 
Gloves that were cut at the second knuckle, with a metal stud on each finger 
adorned his hands, and black pants which seemed to have an insane amount of 
pockets draped down to his shoes. He had two long bleached bangs, and the rest, 
black, spiked up vertically more than twice the height of his face (which a big 
bleached stripe down the middle). Suffice to say, he stuck out like a sore 
thumb.
     "Don't worry, Lawrence, he's with me." Silver spoke to the bouncer with 
the odd hair, but mouthed a few silent words. The bouncer nodded slightly and 
let the two though without saying a word, lifting the out-of-place looking 
velvet barrier. Mark followed Silver into a dark hallway.



     "Lawrence is a good guy, really quiet, but very good at what he does."
     "You mean being a bouncer?"
     "That's part of it."
     Silver continued to lead the slightly confused Mark through a black 
painted corridors. Mark could begin to feel the rhythm of the music as they 
approached a black painted door. Silver motioned toward it.
     "After you."
     Mark opened the door to an almost deafening wave of synthsized music. The 
room on the other side was dark, but lit up in an array of dazzling colours 
from overhead lights. Despite the way the building looked from the outside, the 
inside was huge. The lights moved in time to the music, changing colours on 
beat, the cones of light dancing over the room.  On the opposite wall, an 
enclosed DJ booth was suspended high over the ground, with a young man, not too 
much older than Mark working feverously on a mixer board and computer. An old 
style scrolling red marquee over the booth displayed 'DJ funkyface - Lunar 
Surface~decompressed mix' followed by the date and time. Mark guessed these 
type of people needed the time and the date, just in case they lost track.
     The crowd danced and jumped to the music, glowsticks flashing and flying 
amongst them. In the corners, couples could be seen mingling and making out in 
the passing lights at, or on, the tables around the perimeter of the room. Mark 
was still in awe at the sight of the room when Silver grabbed him by the jacket 
and almost dragged him off to the side, where there were less people who could 
trample them, even if by accident.



     They entered a small locked room under the DJ booth.
     "Soundproof." Silver made a gesture to the door. Within the room lay, 
well, almost everything one could think of. A bunk bed and several sheets were 
in the corner, bottles of soda and instant noodle containers were piled into 
another corner, magazines on everything from cars to politics to videogames 
were strew across the floor, and against a wall stood two desktop computers, 
both displaying flying toasters.
     "Pheen, you in here?"
     A door Mark had not seen (mainly because it was painted the same colour as 
the wall) opened, revealing a young girl. She was perhaps nine or ten, and 
wearing an extremely oversized flourescent yellow sweater (with the hood pulled 
up) which covered her hands, and jeans that were also way too large for her. 
One yellow eye peeked through long black bangs that partially concealed her 
face.
     "Don't mind her, she's a bit shy. Pheen, this is..."
     "Mark"
     "This is Mark, he's here because the Units are after him, and we have to 
take care of him till we figure out what to do."
     "Nice to meet you, Pheen." Mark extended his hand to the little girl, but 
the girl ignored it and hugged Mark around the torso.
     "Pheen likes Mark very much!"
     Both boys looked equally surprised.
     "I've, I've never seen her do that before. You have a way with kids." The 
grey haired kid smiled, for the first time since Mark had met him.



     "Was that Pheen I just heard?"
     Another boy stood in the doorway the little girl had just entered through. 
'Boy' may not have been the right word, Mark wasn't sure, but he was sure that 
he had never seen anything like him before. First off, his face was an odd 
brownish colour one doesn't normally see of people, but that wasn't beginning 
to describe the weirdness. He had horns. Not pointy little studs that Mark 
sometimes saw people have (though how they pierced their foreheads was beyond 
him), but as far as Mark could tell, real horns, which swept back along his 
reddish black hair. His hair was long and draped over his shoulders and ears. 
His ears were long and pointed, and his eyes were slanted and only black, like 
on those alien shirts Mark had seen the skaters wear all the time. Still, he 
wasn't too much weirder than all the stuff Mark had gone through and seen that 
day. He tried hard not to stare.
     "Yeah, weird, huh?"
     "Looks like the little squirt has a new friend." He turned to Mark, "I'm 
Jaki, that's J-A-K-I. Don't ask me why, I think it's retarded. On the other 
hand, as you've probably noticed, I don't exactly _look_ normal either. Don't 
worry, I don't mind the staring, makes me feel important."
     "I'm Mark."
     "And I guess that's spelt normally? Anyways, why are you here?"
     "To tell you the truth, I have no clue."
     "Good, join the club."



     "The Unit that I found chasing him was on alert E."
     "Alert E?"
     "Yeah, alert E."
     "Echo, echo, echo, echo..."
     "Shut up."
     Mark still had no idea what was going on, and the day seemed to get odder 
as it went by. What was weirdest to him though, was that these two guys seemed 
so perfectly normal in their way of speaking and acting that you'd almost 
forget the fact that one probably had a very illegal energy weapon and the 
other had real horns sticking out his head. Mark still wished he had at least 
the slightest clue what was going on though, he piped in.
     "Ummm, what's alert E?"
     "Should I tell him?", the new one, Jaki
     "Go ahead."
     "Okay, Etrius definitely has taken a liking to you. We're not quite sure 
why though. Class E is designated for people that Etrius definitely has it in 
for, especially us EEs. By any chance are you an Evol?"
     Mark was shocked. Despite being a bit more nimble and dextrous than most 
kids, he considered himself perfectly normal. Of course, he had never gone to 
any genetics tests, so one could never tell. Not that it made a difference, 
Mark never had any opinion on evols, they were just people like everyone else, 
right? Not everyone thought that though, on either side.
     Evols, AKA Evolutionary Entities, AKA EEs were people who, some say, have 
evolved into a form somewhat above human, extraordinary intellegence agility, 
strength, telekinesis, that sorta thing. The evol rise began about eighteen 
years ago, when the first evol was born. Mark couldn't quite remember the guy's 
name, but soon after that, evols started popping up all over the place. 
Scientists still don't have an much in terms of information on these people, 
but they have found that their DNA patterns are indeed different from a normal 
person (or as most evols called them, norms), though tests to genetically 
create evols have failed so far.
      "No."
      "That's weird. Anyways, alert E is exclusively for guys like us that 
Etrius really really doesn't like."
      "Dude, you said that already" Silver noted,
      "Whatever, you're not an EE, and you've had no previous run-ins with 
Etrius, right? No hacking, uprisings, assasinations, peeing on the board of 
executives' cars or anything?"
      "Ummm, no?"
      "Okay, just checking. Then I'm stumped." Jaki mocked a pose of 
frustration, "Wait, you didn't very recently escape from any Etrian secret 
laboratories hidden with a school for evols as a front, did you?" This got a 
stern sideways look from Silver.
      "What?", Mark was thoroughly confused.
      "It was worth a shot."



      "Anyways, you gotta figure out what to do about this kid. No way is the 
big E just gonna give up that easy."
      "Yeah."
      "I wonder what they want him for?"
      The other two boys had left Mark alone in the room, and the little girl 
had wandered off somewhere. Mark liked kids, but this was too weird, and it 
didn't seem safe to go look for her. So there he sat in the room, listening in 
on their conversation. Being a full time pickpocket does imbue one with 
particular skills. He missed the first part of the conversation, but it looked 
like it was just getting the the importnant part. The boy who introduced 
himself as Silver spoke again.
      "Can't be anything good."
      "I guess. But still, what can we do about it?", a pause.
      "We could keep him here."
      Mark was stunned. He had never imagined that it would come to this. He 
belonged on the streets. What would he do cooped up in here? What about Mrs. 
Johnson and the kids? There was no way that he would stay with these guys, 
danger or not. Danger was not uncommon to Mark's line of profession anyways.
      "This isn't like owning a puppy, man. Sure, you gotta feed and clothe 
him, and I hope to god that he's potty trained, still, there's no way we can 
just take a kid off the street!"
      "Still what? We can't let Etrius take him. Not just whatever they plan to 
do to him, but they could use him as a weapon against us."
      "True that."
      "And I'm sure MC can spring us a bit more cash. He doesn't seem to mind. 
Besides, Pheen seems to have taken a liking to him."
      Mark swallowed hard. A weapon? How could he be 'used' as a weapon? He was 
begining to not like this more and more. Straining his ear against the door, he 
continued to listen in silence, not sure if he wanted to hear more.



      "Shouldn't we ask him first?"
      That was Mark's cue to leave. He scrabled as silently as possible back to 
the couch they left him in, knocking over a few paper cups in the process. 
Luckily, the forest of other cups easily camaflouged the new additions. The 
other two stepped into the room
      "Mark, right? Dude, do you have a place to sleep and stuff?", Jaki 
inquired, casually. Mark thought for a minute, a small makeshift shelter above 
a steam vent was hardly a 'place to sleep' (though he had worked hard for the 
spot, having to fight off the occasional challenger for the spot, something he 
didn't relish).
      "Not really."
      Still, who were these guys, and what did they want? Mark didn't have 
anything valuable, so they couldn't be thieves. They can't be with Etrius, they 
wouldn't have smashed up those Units so bad. No matter how hard he tried, he 
just couldn't figure these guys out. Only one way to find out.
      "Then you wanna crash with us for a while? We still got lots of bunks 
lying around."
      "I'm sorry, but who the hell are you guys, and why are you helping me?"
      Jaki rolled his eyes. "Here we go."



      "He's clean, right?"
      "Yeah. Pretty sure he's not Etran scum"
      "Sure enough?"
      "If anything happens, it's my fault. Happy?"
      Jaki seemed to smile slightly at that idea. This quick exchange made Mark 
more nervous, but at the same time more interested than ever.
      "Here's the full story, ever heard of Full Circle?"
      Mark shook his head
      "Man, you are out of it. Full Circle? That's us. Me, Silver, Lawrence, 
Pheen; whom I'm sure you've all met; as well as MCMC and DJ Chizuru, our 
gracious hosts. We're sorta like a volunteer army against Etrius. All of it, 
the government, the schools, all that stuff."
      "What!?"
      "Okay, before you label us as vandals and hooligans-"
      "What a coincidence, i was about to say that"
      "Before you label us as hooligans, we'd just like to share a bit of our 
story, if it's okay with O Fearless Leader here?"