Rosa Saunders, perception extraordinaire, is on top of the world. Or, conversely, as close as is possible considering not four days ago she witnessed a cold blooded slaughter.

She is inside the Nihle base back corner jail, Gajy following closely, as they approach the cell block the Mettian prisoners are being kept in. It hadn’t taken much effort to worm their way in here, which was worrying in and of itself, really, and once again, she revels in the freedom perception lends.

Rosa slips the key into the first cell’s lock, the key ring having been liberated from the guard room on their way in, and opens it effortlessly. Any noise the padlock might have made is hidden by the reality Gajy’s upholding, and Rosa throws the deadbolt back and the door creaks open. To the man inside, it must look like a get-out-of-jail-free card, literally, and he rises to his feet from the bench against the back wall, having time only to take a single step forward before Rosa forcefully pulls him from Gajy’s mirage and into the real world, where she is front and center, knife in hand, between him and freedom.

He wilts like a mouse who knows the cat is only toying with him now, and Rosa feels a thrill of revenge singing in her veins, and it’s hard, so hard, not to bury the knife in his chest and just twist, until his blood spills out, and his life fades; it’s all he deserves, and it’s only the knowledge of what awaits him in Lawrence’s custody that stays her hand.

Knowing Gajy has her back, still hidden from his sight, Rosa reaches for the handcuffs tucked into the back of her pants.

“Hands behind your back,” She says firmly. “And turn around slowly. If you so much as twitch I’ll slit your throat; there are four others down the hall I could take just as easily.”

The man, easily at least half a foot taller than her five feet three inches, considers her with frighteningly luminescent orange eyes. At last, he sighs, and, hands in the air, turns so that he has his back to her, then drops them to cross behind his back. Cautiously, she edges forward; she wasn’t lying, she wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he tempted her, and there is no doubt in her mind she could do it, but it doesn’t do to take unnecessary chances.

Seizing a wrist firmly, she shoves a sleeve up just far enough to get the cuff around skin, for maximum discomfort, and uncovers what appears to be a capital c, tattooed on the underside of his arm. First securing the cuff around his wrists, tightening them until they’re pinching the flesh, she works the sleeve up to his elbow, twisting her head to read what’s printed there.

“COMBAT.” She says aloud, for Gajy’s benefit. “What’s that for?”

Her question is met with silence, as she expected, but that doesn’t stop her from setting the room spinning, just to unsettle her prisoner, remind him who’s in charge here, as if the cuffs weren’t already doing that for her.

Abruptly, it stops, and Gajy melts into view. “Guard on his way to do rounds. If we want to get out of here unseen, now would be the time.”

Rosa just nods, and grabs the prisoner by the chain linking the cuffs. “You first.” She says, and, silently, he walks out into the hallway, Gajy again hidden, ready to throw him into a tailspin should he try anything, and Rosa can’t help but notice how lightly he steps, almost like a cat, balanced all too perfectly, and so badly she wants to set the ground wobbling beneath his feet, just to throw off that stalking grace.

A guard is approaching, from the end of the hallway, and quickly, Rosa relocks the cell door, and prepares to trade the false keys he’s holding with the real set in her hand.

One hand pushes their prisoner up against the wall so the guard can pass, the other carefully swaps the key rings, reality blurring with the illusion Gajy’s holding as Rosa brings them firmly together. The guard doesn’t even blink, and Rosa breathes.

As soon as they are safely out on the docks, the illusion will fade, and all hell will break loose as the jailers discover a prisoner has been snatched right out from underneath their noses, but by the time they are organized enough to begin the search, Heid, and this strange man, will be far away.

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Scene 6-VIII

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