[Revised]

Zara flew down the stairs, her knapsack bobbing against her back as she slipped the beanie over her head. To reach the next landing, she would jump the final four steps, gripping the handrail to use her momentum as a propeller onto the next flight. When she reached the ground floor, Zara jogged up to the front door and shouldered it open, grousing for its weight. The moment she stepped out into the open, an autumnal chill enveloped her, making her shiver and her teeth chatter. Fortunately, she hadn't made the same mistake as the night before.

She removed the backpack from around her shoulders and secured it in between her legs. Then, she slipped her jacket on, almost purring gleefully when it's warmth embraced her. After rubbing her arms to spread the heat along her limbs, Zara pulled her beanie over her ears and grabbed her backpack, swinging it back on.

She then began her perilous journey towards the lair.

As Zara trudged along the minefield that was the sidewalk, she kept her gaze on a three feet radius in front of her. Like in a jungle, eye contact was a big no-no, as it held several negative implications that could lead to a multitude of disastrous endings. It was especially taboo when directed towards any of the drunken groups loitering outside the buildings—their loud music and conversations drifted over to Zara, making her cringe.

Out of all the places I could live in, it had to be here.

The last thing she wanted was to be associated with those animals.

The walk was mostly comprised of the constant scanning for stink-bombs dropped by stray animals, used needles, and just garbage in general. Unfortunately, it was like attempting to complete a never-ending obstacle course. With every new block, came a fresh supply of obstructions which became increasingly frustrating to avoid.

Although part of Zara's mind was occupied with that particular issue, the other part kept replaying the events of the previous night. She even attempted to go further back down the memory lane, to a few days prior to "Day X, " to try and pick out any irregularities in her friends' behaviour. But her efforts were futile, because, at the time, her perception of them was different, leading to even the smallest of gestures being filed under "unsuspicious."

Zara felt a buzz against her thigh but ignored it, knowing from what it was from.

Thirty seconds later, it stopped.

After a minute, however, the buzz returned, more obstinately than before.

Her patience wearing thin, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, grimacing when she saw that it was a call from Saffron.

What the hell does he want?

Zara jabbed the 'end call' button with her thumb and accessed her messages. She might as well read them all at once, in case she had to fabricate a story for her absence at school that day. Zara absent-mindedly skimmed through the next 10 messages, unaware of the way her features softened at their concern. When she read all of them, she checked her missed calls inbox. There were five of them, all from Saffron.

She rolled her eyes, snorting as she pocketed her phone. It was all just a facade they were putting up to try and fool her, and she was determined not fall for it.

They aren't who you think they are, the voice at the back of her head warned.

I can't jump to con—

Stop lying to yourself and deal with reality, damn it.

Zara suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, her heart racing her chest. This couldn't be happening to her again, not in public. With every negative thought that crept into her mind came that damned voice, pushing her closer and closer to the edge of sanity. Her head pounding, she raised a hand to dab at the spot on her forehead. She winced, withdrawing her hand immediately and pulling her beanie down to her eyebrows. Yes, the previous episode had, in fact, happened. It wasn't just her imagination.

Zara couldn't let anyone know of this, it would be too dangerous for her, but she promised herself that when all that shit was over, she would seek for help. She just needed to solve this problem as soon as possible...

She barely side-stepped an overflowing dumpster, her mind reeling. If she wanted the voices to stop, she had to find answers before it was too late. She tried to convince herself that the voices in her head were just thanks to the stress. It had to be, otherwise, God help her if it got any worse.

I have to get my game-face on if I want to get out of this sane.

A plan of action began to formulate in her mind as she crossed the road into a new district. The liveable conditions of the new area were like a breath of fresh air to her cluttered mind, blowing away all the unnecessary thoughts and replacing them with the ones of immediate importance. This trip would have the answers to all her problems, she could feel it.

The plan would consist of three steps:

1. Get in.

2. Snoop around.

3. Get out.

Of course, those points summarised several pages worth of detail, but at least, she had a general idea. If luck decided to be on her side, and she prayed that for once it was, then the only problem she would encounter would be time-based. School only lasted around six hours, from 8:45 AM to 3:30 PM, and because it was already past twelve o'clock, she had less than four hours to complete the three-step plan. She had to leave the place before the rest of the gang showed up; one could only imagine what would happen if they discovered what she was up to.

Her toes curled at the thought.

Forty-five minutes later, much to her relief, the old warehouse finally came into view.

The giant was over 20,000 square feet in size, and it occupied an entire block, easily dwarfing the surrounding buildings. Its large, broken rectangular windows stared manically at the surrounding area, the remnants of the shattered glass filthy with age-old grime. Several parts of the interior—where parts of the walls had crumbled away—were exposed to the outside world, enduring the weather's blows like an ancient warrior on a battlefield. Despite the continuous bruising and battering, the structure continued to stand tall— and proud. Finally, like chainmail, a ten-feet high perimeter fence encircled it, and multicolour signs warned civilians to stay away from the dangerous beast.

Initially, it was supposed to be demolished in order to make space for a new block of public apartments. However, the municipality had rejected the request as its foundations were built with asbestos, highly toxic if tampered with. The mayor had deemed it a public hazard, had it shut down and locked up, alternatively becoming a welcoming centre for stray animals and on rare occasions, beggars, who would slip through the cracks in the fence to temporarily shelter themselves from the rain.

They never actually managed to get into the building itself, scared that they would be gassed in there. But one day, during one of Zara's many close calls with law, she discovered a secret passage into the building. With a lot of time to kill, she had immediately gone inside to explore, discovering what she and her friends would later 'reconstruct' into their haven.

Zara revelled in its grandeur, almost speechless, and almost missed the crucial entry point. Fortunately, she snapped out of her trance just in time, turning into an alleyway. She immediately ducked behind a row of dumpsters, peeking through the gap between them to check if she was being stalked again. Zara ran a hand down her shin and rested it over her sheathed knife; getting caught unarmed once was enough to make her carry a weapon wherever she went now.

After remaining idle for a few minutes, she slowly stood up again, taking a few tentative steps backwards before she veered and jogged up to a manhole, strategically hidden under a pile of overflowing trash bags. Kicking them to a side, she gave another quick glance around her before she crouched down again and brought her backpack to her front, unzipping it and pulling out a crowbar.

Ironically, it had taken her less time to find it now than a few days ago.

She placed her backpack on a spot that looked the least disgusting and stood up again, lodging the claw end of the crowbar into a hole in the centre of the manhole cover. Placing her feet on either side of the manhole, she slowly lifted the cover, the muscles in her back protesting against the strain. When she had raised just enough to reach under it with a hand, she quickly flung the crowbar to a side and brought the other one underneath the lid, slowly dragging it over a side. As she did so, a column of rancid air drifted up from the hole, invading her airways and making her face scrunch up in disgust.

She dragged the cover away until most of the hole was revealed, and then she went back to her sack and pulled out a protective filter mask, immediately fitting it over her face. After taking a few breaths, she extracted a flashlight from one of the side pockets, putting it in her back pocket as she went to retrieve the crowbar.

When she returned that to its rightful place, she zipped the bag shut and flung it over a shoulder, trudging to the hole and sitting on its edge. Zara then swung both of her legs in, and when they made contact with the rung of a ladder, she took her flashlight out and flicked it on, carefully lowered herself into the hole.

When her whole body was in, she reached up and hauled the man cover back into place, effectively disappearing out of sight.

Zara ripped the mask off her face as she strolled into the lair, her nostrils flaring as she took in a huge breath of clean air. She then yanked the beanie off her head, passing a hand through her hair and wiping her muddy shoes over the entrance mat before she took a moment to recover from the short trip.

Walking along the banks of the sewage was the most distasteful part of the journey. She hated not knowing what lurked in the water beside her, along with the fact that one false step and she could find herself neck- deep in human waste.

Her thoughts were disturbed when a grumbling caught her attention— then stomach cramps. Zara clutched her stomach with both hands and groaned, suddenly feeling hungry. She had forgotten that the only thing she had had for breakfast was a sip of milk, but it hadn't caught up with her until then.

She granted herself one bite before starting her mission.

Zara speed-walked into the leisure room and threw her backpack onto one of the couches, then, she immediately made her way to the kitchen.

Half an hour later, she found herself in a hallway, trudging towards the weapons room as she munched on a cinnamon donut.

Wait, a voice ordered.

She ignored it.

You should gather all their clothing and throw them in a bonfire, it suggested with malice.

There's kerosene in one of the rooms, it would be a perfect revenge.

"Leave me alone," Zara muttered, fuming again.

Psh, you're no fun...the voices trailed off into nothingness.

Moments later, Zara was in what they called the 'weapons-room'. It wasn't much—there were only so many weapons a bunch of teenagers could have, but if she wanted to find any clues this would be a good place to begin. To rob someone you need guns, right? But there was nothing out of the norm, not a knife out of place. Everything was where it was supposed to be, quite to her misfortune.

Zara banged her fist against the wall and snorted, angry at how fruitless her research was already. She turned her head and slowly rested her cheek against the surface, squeezing her eyes shut. Alright, so they hadn't used any of the group's weapons, but that didn't mean that they hadn't stolen.

Think, Zara, think. If you stole a bunch of expensive drugs, where would you hide them?

The safe.

"Of course!" Zara exclaimed, jumping up from her seat and slapping her forehead. Her ecstasy immediately wore off when her hand made contact with her forehead, and she whimpered in pain.

Where else could you possibly hide a couple of pills?

She chastised herself for being so naive as she jogged out of the room and down a flight of stairs, gently rubbing the area around the bruise. Stopping right in front of the safe room, she checked her watch.

Time does fly.

Without wasting any more of it, Zara flung the door open. She entered a small room, which would have been completely empty if it weren't for a small metal safe, hauled in some time ago from the boys. Zara walked up to it and quickly twisted the passcode, her heart beating loudly with anticipation.

Along with the most valuable of the merchandise they had stolen, the ones which would take several months to be pawned, she'd find the bag of pills, and then all her problems would be solved. She'd find a way to return them to Max, and then she'd think about what to do with those responsible.

The steel door opened to reveal...nothing. It was as empty as Satan's heart.

Zara's mind went numb as she gasped in horror, her face drained of all colour. Her mouth opened and closed as she attempted to say something, anything, but no words came out. Her knees wobbled underneath her as she took a step forwards, then another, slowly walking in a trance-like state towards the middle of the room.

She wanted to scream, she wanted to puke, she wanted to pass out. Anything to make her forget where she was.

It was a hallucination, it must've been. Hours, days, months worth of putting her life on the line were all gone. The safe was as empty as when they had first gotten it. The metallic shelves were completely bare, not a single object remained on them, not even their shadow.  Everything was gone.

She didn't know what was worse— the fact that there was nothing or the fact that the drugs weren't there. What if they were hidden somewhere else? The warehouse was massive, it would take weeks for her to search it from head to toe. It was hopeless, she should've known better. Her friends weren't stupid enough to put hallucinogenic drugs into the public safe.

Think about this rationally, Zara. Don't let your emotions get the better of you.

"I know," she muttered, tilting her head back and pinching the bridge of her nose. "What the fuck do I do now?"

What if they didn't hide it, but sold it off at the first opportunity?

Zara brought her gaze back down onto the empty safe. "Good question." She closed her eyes and scratched her ear. "Max never told me where they stole the drugs from."

What? The fact that it was stolen from the company itself was implied. Where else would they store the prototypes?

"What if..."—she closed the safe and spun the dial—"It wasn't at the company?"

I can hear your thought process, but it isn't making any sense.

Zara spun on her heel and exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her. "We're skilled as fuck, but realistically, we could never steal from the headquarters. This isn't Ocean's Eleven." The voices were both a blessing and a curse, had it not been for them, she wouldn't be reasoning right now, with herself.

Right. But again, where the fuck would they store it? That shit's precious to them, more than any quantity of money.

She stopped pacing and turned her head towards the railing surrounding the main level. "Vincent's place."

Suddenly, a loud pinging sound resounded across the room. They're here. Zara's legs moved before her mind could fully register the danger, bringing her back up the stairs. When she reached the landing, she immediately ran to the couch in the lounge-room, scooping her backpack and swinging it over her shoulders. She was about to turn towards the exit when she heard voices not too far away.

It was too late now, if she tried to escape, they would definitely see her. Her head twisted from side to side and she took a few steps forwards and backwards as she frantically searched for a hiding place. Her gaze dropped onto the couch.

When she reached the landing, she immediately ran to the couch in the loungeroom, scooping her backpack and swinging it over her shoulders. She was about to turn towards the exit when she heard voices not too far away.

It was too late now, if she tried to escape, they would definitely see her. Her head twisted from side to side and she took a few steps forwards and backwards as she frantically searched for a hiding place.

Her gaze dropped onto the couch.

Bingo.

She dropped on all fours and rolled underneath it, right before the two voices entered the room.

They were both unquestionably masculine: Orion and Saffron. She laid face-down on the floor, her cheek pressed down against its coldness, sending shivers up and down her spine as she toned down the intensity of her breathing.

"I can't believe she gave me a 'B' on that math assignment!" What sounded like Saffron exclaimed, his steps long and heavy.

"You're such a nerd, Saffron. If it were me that would've gotten that 'B,' I would be doing cartwheels in joy. Get over yourself, man," a lower voice grumbled, obviously Orion.

Vincent the researcher? Wow, nice one. Where would he keep them, under his mattress? The voice said after a long pause. It was hard for Zara to focus on two things simultaneously; it was either the voice mocking her or the traitors bickering above.

"You don't understand, I worked my ass off for that assignment."

"You don't understand, I don't give a shit."

"Whatever. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother talking to you." Saffron's voice faded away—he probably walked into another room.

"Me too," Orion muttered, plopping himself down on the couch opposite from Zara's and lifting his feet onto the coffee table in front of him. She heard him cough, then his fingers cracking. 

In the bathroom cabinet, the place anyone would least expect. They guy had all sorts of stuff, Xanax, sleeping pills, antibiotics...it filled a good portion of my bag.

Too bad you sold them all off to Igor.

"Do you smell that?" Saffron sniffed, returning from wherever he went. Much to her disdain, he took a seat right on the spot above Zara's lower back, pushing the bottom down even more against her.

For crying out loud.

"Oh my God, yes, I can smell it now. Jesus, Saffron. Did you shit yourself?"

"I should be asking you that! It didn't stink this badly until you came into the room. Did you step on a pile of shit down in the sewages?" She could feel Saffron shift above her in an attempt to make himself more comfortable.

"Dude, it's coming from over—nah, you know what? Forget it."

Are you sure it wasn't in the emptied safe?

Saffron's harmonious laugh resounded above. "Yeah, let's forget about it, Buster. You know you're in the wrong."

Positive. The drugs were the first thing you guys sold off. Igor was very happy with the turn-out, especially since they were all the real deal. A lot of people have tried to sell him mints in disguise. 

Crazy how her mind had managed to store all that seemingly meaningless information.

Do you remember if any of them were...different? There were just so many of them that I didn't bother checking them all individually.

Nope, nada. Even if I did, that won't take away from the fact that you're going to have to pay Igor a visit, whether you like it or not. 

Orion stood up from where he was sitting, his battered black converse taking him over to the T.V set. Zara squeezed her eyes shut, given no choice but to agree with the voice. The pawn shop was her next destination, she already dreaded it.

Shuffling ensued, then the Super Mario Theme song began to blast through the stereo. Orion immediately turned the volume down until it just behaved as ambient music. It was one of the few electronic appliances they had there—because there was no electricity in the warehouse, a lot of power came from a generator.

I hate that bastard—he probably won't give anything away.

"So, Saffron..." Zara heard Orion plug a controller into the console. Then, he trudged back towards the couch, stretching out along its length.

Saffron responded with a guttural sound.

He's greedy. Dangle a fifty dollar bill in front of his face and he'll be singing like a canary in no time.

"Have you decided what you're going to do?" Orion asked.

"What do you mean?"

Okay, shut up now, this is important.

"You know...what are you going to do about her..."

Zara stilled, her attention homing in on Orion's words.

Her?

"Ah, I've been thinking about it all day, actually. Her absence gave me the chance to do so."

"...And? All I hear is blah blah blah. Give me the details, bro."

Silence.

"Honestly, I don't know what to do. I really like her, man, but I don't want to ask her out and then get rejected if she doesn't feel the same way. That would make things super awkward between us, and I don't think I could deal with that."

For a minute, Zara had forgotten how to breathe. They weren't talking about the Butterfly, much to her dismay, but she couldn't help but eavesdrop anyway onto their conversation. Who was 'her' supposed to be? 

Orion paused the game he was playing, and he swivelled to place both his feet on the floor,"True. But how can you be so sure?"

"I just do. I've tried to take things just that step further, but she seems reluctant—"

"She's cock-blocking you, bro. She really likes you, she just doesn't know how to show it."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah, of course! If there's one thing I know about women, is that they love to play hard to get. It's just their way of making you fall harder for them." Orion repositioned himself and chuckled. "Stupid us, falling for that shit every damn time."

Saffron joined in on the laughter, shaking the entire couch. "You're right... so are you saying I should ask her out?"

Zara's eyes widened into saucers.

"Yes, dumb-ass. But not tomorrow, or the day after. If you do, you're gonna fuck it up for sure. Just do it sometime during this week, otherwise, you're going to wuss out." Orion's game started up again and then furious clicking ensued.

"Okay, okay, I'll do it. But if she says no, I'll tell her it was your idea."

"If she says no, then she's mine." 

At that moment, the voice decided to pipe up again. He's probably not talking about you; next stop, the pawn shop!

-:-