The Street Rats all stood in clumps, shouting and jeering, laughing and grinning. The pack was all together once again, and Iris loved it.

There was a warm feeling all around as some raised their beer bottles before skulling their drinks. The Marijuana addicts were in one corner, sitting against the far side wall of the warehouse. Iris looked around for Mason but of course, he was right in the middle of the throng, next to his father who was using his stage voice to tell one of his many made-up tales. Still, the people listened. Tyrone had a way with words that made everyone want to listen, no matter how far-fetched and ridiculously fantastical his stories became. Perhaps it was the way in which he described each beast, each quest in such vivid detail, that it made everyone else forget where they really were for just a second, and instead, escape to the world Tyrone imagined.

Mason was stuck to his father's side like glue, listening to his latest tale with careful attention. He would do anything to win his father's approval. He had so much respect for the man. They weren't like some of the other Street Rats, condemned to live on poor rations since childhood. No, they had once been a part of the middle-class society, just an average family of three. Tyrone, Mason and Genevieve. From the way Tyrone spoke of Genevieve - on the rare occasions he did nowadays – he talked of her so vibrantly, so fully and warmly, that Iris could only imagine the passionate love between him and his wife. At an age where Mason was barely walking, his mother was shot - on his birthday, too. Some nut off the corner of West Hollywood had begun shooting and Genevieve had found herself in the crossfire. When the police had finally arrived, six minutes too late, she was already bleeding out by the gutter, holding a wrapped gift she had intended to give to her son that very early morning to celebrate his special day. Mason had hated his birthday since, and Tyrone could never find it in himself to celebrate his son's birthday. That day was not a day of celebration for the Duris family. It was one of mourning. The police had proclaimed it an open and shut case. The man was a loony, and justice was never really served in its proper sense. He had gotten off mostly scott-free due to his unstable mental state and for the fact that it was not any sort of premeditated murder. Genevieve had been an 'unfortunate casualty' - to put it in the cold-hearted officer's words.

It was for that reason that Tyrone had decided to go rogue, to live off- radar from governmental eyes, and he took his toddler son with him. Tyrone didn't wish to have the government's protection. Not when he believed they were all corrupt and incapable of doing their jobs right. He'd always been against the system, but this event drove him to extremes.

Mason met Iris's gaze from across the room and gave her a grin. He beckoned to her with a nod, and Iris went to step towards him when a shadowy movement caught her attention. She spun and narrowed her eyes at the sight of her best friend slipping out of the warehouse.

On their monthly meet-up? Where did she think she was going?

"Iris!" Someone called out her name and she turned her attention back to the crowd.

A small boy was waving at her and beaming, and Iris bent down as he approached.

"Max!" she grinned. "How's it hanging?"

"Great! I've had so much luck this month! Want to see the treasures I've gotten?" he began to tug at her, but Iris had to slowly remove her hand from his.

"Sorry, Max," she said apologetically. A churning, uncomfortable sensation had started in the pit of her stomach, and she sensed something was wrong. Where was Amira heading? No one skipped the meet-ups.

"I'll be right back, promise."

When she stood back up, she noticed Mason making his way towards her, but a sudden urge told Iris to leave the warehouse, and so she weaved her way in and out of the crowd, giving brief smiles to those who acknowledged her and apologising to those who invited Iris into their conversations. When she finally made her way outside, a chill ran down her spine, and the reaction had nothing to do with the cool autumn air.

She glanced up and down the dirty, dark street but the only sign of life and activity was the occasional car that whizzed by. Her legs were carrying her down one street, then around another bend, and she soon found herself at a dank, abandoned alleyway that smelt of some foul odour – probably urine and feces. Instinct told her to keep behind the wall, and it wasn't until she heard a familiar voice that she dared to peer around.

"Guys," she heard Amira's flirty voice and watched as she placed a hand on one man's chest. It was the same man. The one with the cigarette in the cemetery. Iris focused her attention on the other figure, and sure enough, even in the gloomy shadows, she recognised the snapback.

Amira, Iris thought in worry, chewing her bottom lip. What did she think she was doing?

"What's this all about? Why did you want to see me again?" Amira purred, and she clasped one of the guys' hands. Iris's blood chilled as she realised what her friend was doing.

Amira looked up seductively into the eyes of the snapback boy. Her fingers were slowly sliding over his fingers, and she noticed her subtle tugging as the ring slowly slipped off his finger and...

He caught her wrist, startling her.

"Got you," he spat, glancing down at her fingers curled around his accessory.

She feigned confusion. "What?" she batted her eyelashes, looking between the two men. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Did you think you could get away with it?" the guy with the cigarette snarled, taking out his smoke from his mouth and stubbing it against the brick wall in anger. The cigarette dropped to the ground and he stepped towards Amira.

"With what?" she asked, her brown eyes wide and doe-like.

"Don't toy with us, you little snake," the snapback boy hissed at her.

Amira immediately dropped the act. "Rat, actually." Then she kneed him in the balls and went to run, but the cigarette man snaked one muscly arm around her waist and lifted her from the ground.

She kicked and lashed out, clawing at him with her long nails, but he only cursed profoundly and pushed her against the wall. She groaned with the impact while the snapback boy regained his wits. In a fit of fury, he hit her, hard.

Amira cried out as his fist connected with her nose, and blood spurted out.

"Where did you put the other ones?" he screamed at her.

Amira only laughed hollowly. "You hit like a girl."

Iris's eyes widened. What was she doing? Iris stepped around the corner.

"Hey!" she called out. The two turned their attention towards Iris. Amira's eyes suddenly widened in horror.

"What are you doing here?" Amira hissed.

"Isn't that the other girl from this morning?" the cigarette man looked at his companion, who nodded before turning his attention back to Amira.

"Who cares about her? She's the one that stole my rings! Where did you put them?"

Amira grinned toothily, despite being at an obvious disadvantage.

"I don't have them," she lied.

The snapback man suddenly shook with rage and he reached into his jacket pocket. Iris knew what it was before he even pulled out his gun.

Amira still continued to laugh. "You think that scares me, little man? I look death in the face every day, you pathetic piece of rich filth."

Iris clenched her teeth. "Alright, come on, just..." as she stepped towards them, the cigarette man took out his own gun and pointed it towards Iris.

"You step back," he ordered.

Iris paused, her heart drumming in her chest. Why didn't Amira see the danger of their situation? These people weren't messing around.

"Just give it back to them, Amira," Iris said slowly, calmly.

The snapback man shoved the barrel of the gun to her temple. "Those rings mean a lot to me, you little brat. Do you know how much they're worth?"

Amira only smirked. "Enough to sell and earn some sweet cash for it."

"You bitch!" he snapped, and he switched off the safety.

Iris could hear her heart pounding in her ears. "Amira, please," she said quietly but firmly.

"She sold it off already!" the snapback man was exclaiming hysterically.

"No way," the cigarette man scoffed, waving his gun towards Iris. "One of them has it, for sure."

"Amira, please," Iris repeated, her palms up in cautious surrender. Her voice wavering slightly, "Just give it back to him."

The cigarette man swiftly reached out, closing the distance between them and roughly grasping Iris's arm, twisting it behind her back while cocking the gun under her chin.

"Hey!" Amira cried out, struggling to aid Iris. "Let her go!"

"Give me the rings," the snapback guy growled.

"Just give him the bloody rings!" Iris exclaimed, breaking into a cold sweat as she felt the cool metal against the delicate skin on her neck.

"Okay! Okay! They're back at the warehouse. Just let me go back and get them and I'll..."

"And let you call for reinforcements back at your stupid homeless shack?" the snapback man snarled. "Right."

"Listen you dumbass. Do you want the rings or not?" Amira lifted an arm to wipe at the blood that was dripping down her face.

"It's a trick. She probably has it on her." The cigarette man narrowed his eyes at her while the snapback guy patted her down.

"Hey!" she growled. "Get your hands off me you perv!"

"You had no problem with my hands on your last night." He grinned, and she ferociously knocked heads with him.

He let out a yelp and rammed the butt of his gun against her head. She leaned shakily against the wall, holding her head and wincing.

"Amira!" Iris elbowed the cigarette man, knocking his arm out of the way as he let off the first gunshot into the silent night.

"Iris!"

The snapback man clamped a hand over Amira's mouth before she could say any more. Iris crouched as the cigarette man fired another shot. The bullet disappeared down the shadowy alleyway. Iris watched as Amira screamed and elbowed her captor in the face.

There was a shout from behind Iris, and she saw Mason and two of his friends staring at the commotion with wide eyes.

"Iris!" he called out, charging towards her.

"Mason get back!" she screamed, and the cigarette man fired two shots in his direction.

Luckily, he missed, and Mason's two companions stood hesitantly by the sidewalk, uncertain as to whether they should follow Mason, or run. Iris shot up and jumped on Amira's captor's back. He lurched sideways, knocking Iris into the wall. Meanwhile, Mason grabbed at the other man's gun hand, the two struggling to get a grip of the weapon.

Time slowed as the snapback man slammed Iris repeatedly into the wall, over and over again. Iris's vision faded and become hazy as she saw black spots. Amira charged towards the man just as he slammed Iris once more, her head making contact with the brick wall.

Iris saw double as the man lifted his gun towards Amira's chest, and fired.

Which Amira had he hit?

Iris forced her eyes to focus, but the blackness seemed to creep up on her, unconsciousness beckoning to her with welcoming arms. She felt something wet trickling down the back of her head. She finally let go of the man and slumped to the ground, reaching a delicate hand towards her scalp.

Blood was a strange colour. It wasn't crimson red, as might be expected. Instead, it appeared to be a mix of dark shades - almost brown or black. Or perhaps the black had blurred her vision once more. She blinked repeatedly, barely registering Mason punching one of the men square in the jaw. He managed to disarm the man with the cigarette, pointing the gun towards him. The snapback man held his gun towards Mason instead and the three stood there, unmoving.

Iris struggled to get up, but everything was spinning. She was moving too slow, too unsteadily. Her eyes finally focused enough to see Amira, on the ground, limp and lifeless. A pool of blood encircled her body and before Iris knew what was happening, a blood-curdling scream filled the night air.

It wasn't until she fell to the ground once more, that she realised the scream had come from her own throat.

She couldn't be dead. It had to be some freakish nightmare. She must have hit the bottom of the hole in her dream, and this is all just some hellish creation of her imagination. Because that lifeless body either didn't belong to Amira, or it was hallucination. It had to be one or the other because nothing else would make sense.

Tears filled her vision as the black spots reappeared. Anger and sorrow and pain seethed and boiled within her, and she shook with such fury that she could have sworn the ground beneath her quaked along with her rage. Then she realised the ground was indeed, shaking.

The pavement beneath her split and cracked open. Mason's frightful companions immediately took off at high speed. She heard the two men shouting something and the cigarette man shoved Mason out of the way just as the ground trembled once more.

Mason stumbled backwards as the two men bolted from the alleyway. The tremors suddenly increased, the cement beneath her seeming to groan and crack in response. Iris felt a sudden, searing pain on her left forearm and she glanced down, noticing something black spreading like an ink stain across her skin.

She blinked several times, willing the black spots to leave her vision as she crawled towards Amira. The ground beneath her vibrated violently and she found herself lying on her side, head spinning and throbbing in agony. She could feel herself losing more blood by the second, soothing blackness tempting her as her eyelids drooped closed.

They fluttered open again as she remembered Mason. Where was he?

She saw a figure glancing backwards, shakily running and tripping as the ground continued to split and quake uncontrollably. Mason was going to save her and Amira.

Then Iris frowned, confusion clouding her thoughts. If Mason was going to save them, then why was he running in the opposite direction?

He's getting help. He's coming back.

Several minutes passed and the earth was unforgiving as the buildings around her began to crumble, and loose debris tumbled down. She was at odds with staying awake and falling into a dreamless slumber. She fought her best to stay awake, to reach out towards Amira, but her friend was too far.

Iris's head felt unnervingly light, and her surroundings suddenly seemed disproportional and out of shape, the buildings bending and curving as if they were made of elastic.

Iris's eyes were barely open now, her mouth moving to call out to her friend's name, yet no sound escaped her lips.

Iris's hand shook as she grasped the air, wishing Amira closer. But she only seemed to be getting further and further.

Amira was slipping through her fingers, further and further away. World spinning, darkening considerably.

And Iris was free-falling now.

Down, down, down. An empty vastness. A dark, lonely hole, with nothing to grip onto as she tumbled ever downwards. Black consuming her entirely as she fell through the cracks of the earth, slipping from this world, from consciousness into the ethereal world of the subconscious, far away from reality, head thumping, scalp wet with blood.

She closed her eyes and saw greenery. A forest. Shrubbery. And... was that a river bank? In the middle of Los Angeles city?

Iris forced her heavy lids open, and she could have sworn she saw a shadowy figure appear in her line of vision. A sliver of hope coursed through her. Mason had come back. She knew he would!

Then darkness called to her once more, and this time, she let the world go as she walked eagerly into its awaiting arms, knowing that when she awoke once more, Mason would be by her side.