Previously: What the hell was Fran doing?

I can't really remember the last time I cried, and I mean really, really, cried. Crying because your ankle snaps in the middle of gymnastics practice doesn't count. The last time I cried I believe was when my grandmother from my father's side died. She really cared about me; she was one of the only people who liked me more than Fran. If I remember correctly, she told me Fran was a 'manipulative brat'. I am sure that because I was only eight at the time, she held back on some words.

I sat on the bunk bed, on the top, with my knees to my chest. I didn't care for my family, not as much as I thought I would. But it still hurt to see them just abandon my like that, not even bother to look for me.

…

Two weeks later.

"Desiree?" Someone said, knocking on my door. It opened and someone came in. It was Hera. I tossed the book that I was reading, some crap I stole from Fran, on the dresser across the room.

"Yeah, what do you need?" I asked her. She smiled and gave me something, a lump of red fabric. I took it and unfolded it. It was one fingerless glove. "A glove?"

"All runners need one. It helps with climbing and stuff. It was mine when I first started out, I was about your age, and I kind of grew out of it. I wanted you to have it," She told me. During the past few weeks, I have been following her; she was sort of my mentor. It meant a lot to me. I smiled, and then put on the glove, making it tight. I liked it.

"Thanks!" I responded. She smiled too, which was odd, since she almost never smiled. But what was even odder, was that she kept smiling, even during the minute if silence. "Is something wrong?" I asked her, confused.

"No," She kept smiling. "Everything is fine. In fact, you have done remarkably well in training for the past few weeks and we think that you are ready." Her smile went from innocent to a type of sinister smile, the kind that Fran would use when she was planning something.

"Ready for what?" I asked hesitantly. Hera laughed and led me by the arm out of the room and down the hallway to the end, the last door.

"For your initiation," She told me and opened up the door. There in the room, Merc, Dylan, and Celeste were standing around a chair. There was another guy in the room, one I didn't recognize. He must be new.

Merc walked up to me. "Desiree, when you first came here, you were an uninvited runaway. But now, you are about to be a real runner. But in order to be one, you need your mark."

My mark…wait…what!?

"Oh, no… no, no, no, no, no! NO!" I said, or yelled, I wasn't sure, my ears were ringing. There was a table, with a rather large needle. "No, I can't do needles."

"It's true," Dylan added, smirking.

I hated needles. I made a fit whenever I went to the doctor for a shot. This is why my ears are not pierced, or why I don't have a tattoo, even through my friend Liya always tried to make me get one.

"Well, that is just too bad," Hera patted my shoulder and sat me down in the chair. "If you want, we can get you something to bite on." I gulped and frowned at her attempted to funny.

The guy, who must have been a doctor, picked up the needle. I looked at Dylan, who was chuckling at me. "I hate you," I whispered, but he just smiled.

"Okay, let's just get this over with," I told everyone. Merc looked at me and held up some papers, each with a circuit board pattern on it. "Pick which one you want, and where you want it."

I looked at them; they all looked the same, so I picked the one that looked the least complicated. Then I picked my left arm. This was because I lost some feeling in that upper part of my arm when I dislocated my shoulder. The doctors told me that my bone hit a nerve and that the skin on the upper part of my arm was going to be always a bit numb. It helped, especially when I fell during gymnastics right on my arm, it didn't hurt so bad.

I also have a habit of blacking out under extreme pain. Or when I saw needles.

The doctor guy came at me, holding the needle. After that, I can't remember anything.

…

I woke up with a stinging pain in my arm. I opened my eyes, and I was in my room. I looked at the ceiling, the countless dots that I had tried to count. I got up and looked at my arm; it was wrapped in white bandages. For a moment I panicked, not knowing what happened, and then I remembered. Tattoo.

"Hey, you're up," A voice said. I bent my head over the side of the bed and looked at Dylan, who was sitting, or lying, on his bed. I snapped my head back up. "How's the arm?"

"Fine," I responded, rubbing the bandages.

Dylan got up from his bed and looked at me. "The method that the runners use for making tattoos is better than regular ways. It'll heal faster."

I got down from the bunk and to the dresser and got out a sweater and a hat, then walked out of the room. When I got to the main room I went up to Merc. "I'm going to get something to eat. Do you want me to bring you something?" I asked him. During the past week I have really gotten to know him, because he was teaching me to track on the computer.

"No it's okay Desiree. I have a pizza from yesterday that I am eating. I like my toppings 'matured'," He told me. I laughed and walked to the man hole, then jumped out. It was sunny out, but windy. But it was nice.

I walked to the main road, watching the cars go whizzing by. The mall was down town and they had my favorite restaurant there, a small sandwich shop called Oric's. They had the best meatball subs.

I opened the door and walked up to the counter and ordered, ate, then walked out. The city was glistening in the sun. I looked around seeing cops all around the place. It was strange. Before I could go around, seeing cops and I wouldn't care. I was used to it. Now…

Now I had to be careful.

…

I was on my way back to the hideout. I had the route memorized. Merc told me to take a long route, so then if anyone was trying to follow me, I could lose them. Through the doors and out of the building, I went to the manhole, but was stopped when I heard a voice. It was Dylan's.

"Come on! Why not?" Dylan asked. I crouched by the manhole, enough so I could hear, but so they couldn't see me. I wondered what Dylan was yelling about.

"Because, you know that things are hard now. We can't afford to lose one, especially not as talented as her," Merc told him. His voice was stern.

Dylan sighed and went to a pleading voice. "Listen, I don't think that she knows what is involved in the job, what happens if…"

"Dylan, I appreciate that you are worried about your girlfriend, but if she didn't know, then she wouldn't have made it through training. She is skilled. Maybe her weapon handling could use a little work, but she can be a great runner, someday," Merc explained to Dylan

Dylan huffed, and then went to his room. I got up, waited for a minute or so, and then jumped in through the manhole. "Hey Merc," I greeted.

He looked at me, smiled then asked me, "Can you do something for me?"

I shrugged. "Sure, what?"

"I want you to meet with another runner, her name is Faith. I noticed that you are good with running, but you can use work on sparring. She is pretty good. Maybe after you get better at sparring, I'll get you a real job," Merc told me, patting me on the shoulder with his good hand. I grinned.

"Really?" I asked, excited. "I mean, really, seriously?"

"Sure! We have had a lot of jobs coming in, and we are short on runners," He started, and then tossed me my ear piece. "I have Faith waiting for you. Get going."

"Thanks, bye!" I smiled. Just as quickly as I came in, I got out. I was so excited. All that was on my mind was being on a real job. I quickly jumped, trying my hardest to make it to my destination in the quickest time possible.

Finally, I made it to the large building that Merc told me to go. It was an old warehouse, full of boxes and machinery.

"Nice to meet a new runner," A soft voice came through the air. I turned around to see two people sitting on one of the machines. One of the jumped down, her short cropped hair partially hiding her tattoo that marked her face. "I see you just went through the initiation," She pointed to my wrapped arm.

"Yeah. I'm Desi. You must be Faith," I introduced.

"Desi? As in Desiree?" Another voice said. I looked at the second shadowed person sitting on the machine. I couldn't see her face, but her voice was real similar to Faiths.

"Yeah." I responded.

"Desiree Aadams?" She asked again, her voice lowering.

"Let me guess," I sighed. "You know my father, the Lieutenant Aadams. He probably shot at you one time or another." I saw the other woman jump down, and my eyes went wide. "Kate?"

I remember her. Whenever I went to the police dinners with my father, Kate was always there and my father really liked her. They usually worked together. I heard that she went rouge after she was accused of Pope's murder.

"Wow, I haven't seen you in a long time?" Kate smiled at me. "I thought for sure that you would be in Junior Police League by now. When did you become a runner?" She asked me.

"A while ago," was all I said. I didn't really feel like getting into the reasons.

"I love to see a reunion, but we don't have a lot of time, Kate," Faith told her. She turned to me, her small eyes fixing. "Let's get started."

We started with some simple hand to hand, kicking, throwing punches and such. I used my acrobatic skills to dodge and figured that not getting hit was good, but I still needed to be able to hit the person I was fighting.

We practiced for a while, making me tired. We ran through weapon discharge, and firing a weapon too.

"Nice job," Faith commented me. I had my hands on my knees and my breathing was heavy. She chuckled, "Don't worry, you'll get the stamina sooner or later."

"Yeah, thanks," I wheezed.

She touched my shoulder and smiled, "You did a good job, and you will be a good runner someday. Just be careful," She finished, glancing at her watch. "Come on Kate, let's go."

With that, they both disappeared, leaving me all alone. I started walking, out of the warehouse and down the street, pulling the sleeves of my long shirt all the way down to my wrists.

"Well, well, look who we have here," A chuckling voice rang out. I tensed up immediately, knowing the voice full well. It was the voice of Fran. I turned around to see Fran smiling, her blonde curls cascading down her black suit.

"What are you doing here?" I asked seething. She was the last person who I wanted to see.

"I should be asking you that. You know, Daddy Dearest is just crushed that you joined the runners. When he heard the news, he couldn't stop crying," She mocked in a sad voice. "Infect I remember his saying that he hopes that he never sees you again, knowing full well he would need to kill you if he found you."

"Shut up Fran!" I growled. "Stay out of my way, or I'll-"

"You'll what?" She interrupted me. "Everyone knows you can't do anything. You are the screw up of the family."

I cringed, trying my hardest not to throw a punch, or bash her skull in. She continued to ramble about how my life was insignificant.

"ENOUGH!" I yelled. She stopped, but the smile was still there. I quickly dove at her, where she easily dodged, but my plan wasn't to hit, it was to distract. She fell to the ground surprised, and I took off. I ran as fast as I can, but she somehow managed to catch up, and grasped my arm, throwing my to the ground.

"Well, I guess there is a good thing about you going runner, now I have a good reason to kill you," Fran sneered. "Because it is my job to kill runners."

She smiled as she took off her jacket, revealing a black training suit, and etched into the arm, was the word Icarus.

AN: What do you think!? Please tell me what you think! Fran is evil, but I guess we already knew that. R&R