It was crazy what a fresh pair of clothes and a shower could do to make a person feel better. Sure, the "shower" had been with a water hose out back behind the warehouse, and sure, the water was ice-cold, but he was fine with that. It was soothing on his sore muscles, and it felt wonderful to scrub off the film of dirt and dust that coated him. He washed the blood from his face and the grime from the rest of him. Thank God they'd found this hose.

It'd been a couple of days since he'd first arrived at this warehouse. He and the others, upon returning from the store, had explored the upstairs and found a hallway of old, dusty offices. They'd decided to make them their bedrooms.

It had taken Micah a moment to convince himself to go in. It took even longer for him to pull out his cot and sleeping bag. He hated rooms like this. The dust in the air tickled his skin, caught in his nose, and clogged his throat. It had reminded him of that suburban house he'd visited not too long ago. Or rather, of the dusty basement underneath it.

He'd cast the memory that rose at that thought away immediately. Or at least, he'd tried to. Wisps of it had still haunted him as he pushed aside old furniture, and as he'd knelt on the floor to set up his cot.

Voices had whispered on the borders of his range of hearing. His torturer's drawling taunts had followed him around the room. I'll kill you. I'll kill Matthew. I'll kill that traitorous bitch Adelaide. I'll kill you all nice and slow. I'll take my time. There's no rush. No one cares about you. No one is coming to save you.

Micah had squeezed his eyes shut, clutching at his shirt, at the scar that ached on his chest as the memory surfaced. Arc. That had been the man's alias. Named for the razor-sharp arcs of air he made with the flick of a wrist.

Or worse. The sweeping of an arm.

Stop. He chided himself. He's not here. I'm safe.

But still, he hadn't slept easy that night. Or at all. He'd been haunted, harassed by his own mind. Memories of those days locked in the basement had bombarded him. He'd laid there on that stiff, uncomfortable cot, unable to keep himself from remembering.

He'd remembered bleeding from that long, deep gash on his chest, aching from the beatings they'd given him for betraying them. He'd remembered Stephen's taunts, his threats. His promises to kill everyone Micah cared about. He'd remembered those long hours in that dusty room, the lightbulb overhead flickering as it threatened to go out. He'd remembered how he couldn't even feel the dull ache of hunger and thirst over the rest of his pains as he laid on the ground, hands bound behind his back.

And worst of all, he'd remembered that third day. When Stephen came in wearing a sadistic smile and bearing a strange-looking bottle in his hands. He'd remembered how Stephen declared that Micah was a traitor, a failure, and that he wouldn't have to worry about working for Pardus anymore.

That had been the last thing he'd ever seen.

After three nights of sleepless stirring, Micah was exhausted. In dire need of caffeine. He hadn't changed out of the now-nasty outfit he'd worn since first meeting Scythe all those days ago, trying to stretch out its use before he changed into the new clothes he'd gotten from the store. After all, they didn't have any way to wash their clothes.

So when Lian had announced the discovery of a functional water hose outdoors, he, along with everyone else had been thrilled. They'd lined up to take turns with it, all eager to get clean.

In this cooling September weather, it was rather uncomfortable showering outside. The water was far from warm, and the wind only brought chills with it. When he'd finished washing off, he'd been unbelievably cold. Being an AEM had its perks, but this was not one of them. He was extremely sensitive to the cold. It was absolutely miserable for him. So he spared some of the thermal energy he had stored deep within to coat his skin in a thin layer of warm crystals, heating himself up.

It was the best he could do without a towel.

Once he was reasonably dry, he pulled on his store-bought outfit. The material was garbage. Cheap cotton. Hardly warm enough for his taste, even with the long sleeves. But it would have to do.

It felt like some cheap t-shirt with a graphic on the front. Running his hands over it, he could tell it spelled out some phrase and had an image, but he wasn't sure what. The font was too bold and strange for him to make it out. He spent a moment standing there, now fully dressed, trying to work it out.

Then he laughed.

At least the others had a sense of humor, even if their humor was intended to be at his expense. Little did they know, he had very little in the way of shame, and more than enough pride. Enough pride, at least, to keep him from embarrassment. And to give him the courage to strut back into the warehouse with his head held high.

When he walked back into the warehouse, ready to announce it was someone else's turn with the "shower", he was surprised by a chorus of snickers. Rose, Max, and Colton waited for their turns. Lian had gone first, followed by Alastor, and both of them had made prompt disappearances back to their rooms upstairs.

Micah bit back a smirk, still feigning ignorance. "What?"

"Oh, nothing." Rose's voice answered far too innocently.

"You look very nice," Max called out, not bothering to hide his laughter. "I like your shirt."

"And your socks," Rose added, sniggering.

He knew it had been a bad idea to let the others pick out the clothes on their shopping trip. He knew they'd pick things they liked for themselves. But he was a different story. He'd been on their bad side the day they'd gone shopping. He should've known they'd try to pull something like this. Trying to prank the blind guy with an embarrassing shirt. How original.

Well, he'd show them. He could pull off anything. Even this silly graphic tee.

He stretched out his arms, presenting himself for everyone to see. "I like it too. It's very comfortable. And, honestly, how did you know I loved Scooby-Doo? It's my absolute favorite show of all time." Maybe that last sentence was a bit over the top, but whatever. He just wanted to rub it into their faces.

A beat of silence followed his declaration, and he felt a thrill of satisfaction. Oh, how he wished he could see the looks on their faces. They'd thought they could trick him. Little did they know, he had a few tricks of his own.

"I thought you couldn't read?!" Rose finally exclaimed. "You said you couldn't!"

"I can't." He shrugged. "But it's not that hard to feel the shapes of things on shirts. It just takes a bit of practice."

Frustration bubbled in Rose, bringing a smile to Micah's face. But Max just bit back laughter.

"You knew what it said and still put it on?" The cyborg boy asked him. "Why?"

"Well, you all were so gracious to pick it out for me." Micah drawled. "How could I not wear it?" He gave them a little twirl. "Now, really, honest opinions. How do I look?"

"Horrible." Rose muttered, her voice clashing with Max's laughing "Great!".

Micah gave them a little bow. "Who picked out this beautiful shirt for me? Who do I have to thank?"

Max jabbed a finger at Rose. "It was her idea!"

"Max!" She snapped, likely inches away from silencing the robotic boy in a very permanent way.

"What?" He innocently replied. "It was!"

Her energy roiled with a storm of anger, and her fists balled at her side. Micah couldn't help but chuckle. She didn't seem to get along with anyone here. She wasn't even trying to.

"Well," Micah stepped up to her, a smug smirk on his face. "Thank you, Rose. I love it."

Rose's shoulders tensed as she tilted her head up to look at him. He'd bet all the money he had left that she was giving him a lethal glare. Too bad he couldn't see it.

"You were supposed to hate it." She hissed.

"I know." Was his only reply.

The winged girl huffed. "I'm going to shower." She stormed off.

Micah chuckled, letting her energy signature fall out of his attention and awareness as she went to clean herself. He instead focused on the boys before him.

"So," Micah said. "Tell me more about this shirt."

Colton said nothing, as usual, but Max was quick to fill the silence, also as usual. Max had been proven to be quite chatty over the past few days. Friendly, almost. Colton, on the other hand... well, it was hard to get a read on him. He hadn't said a word to Micah this whole time. Micah was starting to wonder if he harbored ill will against him after Scythe's little combat game.

"You know, it actually kind of does look good on you," Max said honestly. "For a Scooby-Doo shirt, at least. It's kinda green, kinda blueish. Like your crystals, almost. It says 'Scooby-Doo' at the top, and the characters are in a van in the middle."

Micah nodded, grinning at the description. He could picture it pretty well. And in his mind's eye, it looked ridiculous. Absolutely atrocious. Thank God for that indestructible arrogance of his. His good looks were just about the only thing he had going for him at any given time. And right now, they were keeping him from being humiliated by all this.

"Amazing." Micah chuckled. "And my socks? Rose mentioned them earlier."

"Oh, they're Naruto socks."

Micah laughed out loud. "God. Scooby-Doo and Naruto? I wish I could see myself right now."

There was a beat of awkward silence before Max managed to laugh along. "Yeah, you look... funny."

"No kidding." Micah snorted. "I mean, that was you guys' intention, right? Make the blind kid look stupid. Give him silly clothes and laugh at him behind his back."

That drove Max to silence. Colton shuffled awkwardly.

"What?" Micah raised an eyebrow. "Am I wrong? Come on, let's be honest. I know none of you like me after that game."

"That's not... true." Max hesitantly protested.

Colton shrugged at that.

"What's that shrug supposed to mean?" Micah pressed, ignoring Max's half-hearted denial.

Colton just shrugged again.

Micah laughed. "Man, do you ever talk?"

Colton paused, then shook his head. Micah blinked, surprised. Oh. That was a surprise.

"Wait, really?" Max joined in. "I thought you were just quiet!"

Colton shook his head, then made a gesture with his hand near his face.

"Your lips are... zipped?" Max curiously tried to interpret. "Closed? Sealed?"

Colton just shrugged once more.

Micah couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head. "God. This feels like the beginning of some really awful joke. A blind kid, a mute, and a cyborg, all trying to hold a conversation in an abandoned warehouse."

Colton chuckled at that, and Micah found himself once again surprised. "So you can make noise? You aren't fully mute?"

Colton hesitated, then just shrugged.

"Do you know sign language?" Max asked Colton, who made a so-so gesture with his hand.

Micah laughed. "Do you know sign language, Max?"

"No." The cyborg's voice cued embarrassment. "I just thought, you know... it would be a nice gesture to ask."

Micah snorted at the boy's unintentional pun. "Well, I know sign language. So perhaps I could teach you."

"How do you know sign language?" Max seemed confused.

Micah shrugged. "I learned it before I went blind. My big sister is hard of hearing."

"Oh." The confusion faded from the other boy's voice. "So... how does that work now? With your sister, I mean. How do you... you know... talk?"

"I sign and speak at her, and she can read my signs and lips." Micah explained. "In turn, all she has to do is speak aloud for me to understand her. It works just fine." He chuckled a little. "It just involves a lot of yelling at one another."

"Yelling? Why? Is she angry a lot?"

"No. Well, not a lot. Not more than the average American family would, I guess. The yelling is because she doesn't quite know just how loud she's being, and I have to yell for her to properly hear me."

Max paused as he processed it, then moved on. "So you could talk to Colton with sign language?"

"No, not really." Micah laughed. Wow. This boy sure had a lot of questions. "Reading hand gestures is hard for me seeing as I am, for one, blind, and it takes a great deal of focus to sense movement and shapes as small as fingers and hands."

"Sense movement?" Max inquired. "How do you sense movement?"

"It's part of my idio," Micah said as vaguely as possible. "Don't worry about it."

Max's curiosity clearly wasn't abated, but, for once, he kept his questions to himself. After a beat of silence, Max lit up with excitement.

"Guys, I've got it!" He enthused. "I figured out how Colton can talk to you!"

Micah raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh?"

"He can just spell words on your palm with his finger!"

Micah laughed. "I guess that works. It's not very convenient or fast, but it does the trick. Let's try it out." He turned to Colton, surprised to find his energy signature running rather warm. Was the boy angry? No... it was something else. Right?

"You alright, man?" Micah asked.

He didn't really know why he was asking. It wasn't like they were friends. But at the same time, he didn't really have any reason not to ask. Of all the people here, Micah hated these two the least. Max was... well, it was hard to harbor any ill will towards the unusually bright-spirited boy. And Colton? Well, yes, Colton had attacked him. But Micah had also frozen Rose, his friend, in a heap of crystal. Now, the boy seemed relatively... nice. Calm, at the very least.

But now, Colton was tense. Nervous, almost.

Before Colton could give a response, a loud voice sounded behind them all.

"What the hell is going on here?" Rose was marching towards the boys. "Leave him alone!"

Colton raised his hands up in an almost defensive gesture and shook his head. He patted his chest then made a gesture to Rose. She relaxed a bit but still seemed angry. On-edge. She turned to face Micah.

"He says he's fine, but I know you were bothering him." Her voice was almost threatening. "What did you do? What did you say?"

"Nothing, God!" Micah frowned at her. Why was she so goddamn aggressive?

"It wasn't nothing!" She jabbed a finger at him. "Look at him, he's a mess!"

Micah let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "I would if I could."

"You know what I mean." She snapped. "Use whatever trick you use when your eyes glow. That seems to help."

"Not for this." Micah snorted. "I haven't worked out how to sense facial expressions yet, so you'll just have to describe it to me."

"I'm not going to! Just tell me what you said!"

"He really didn't say anything bad." Max tried to step in, his voice a bit nervous. He was clearly intimidated by the winged girl. "We were just trying to figure out a way for Colton and Micah to, you know... communicate."

Rose spun to face the robot boy. "Stay out of this! I'm not talking to you."

"Jesus," Micah muttered. No one was safe from this girl's wrath.

"And you." She faced Micah again, and he straightened. "Don't worry about communicating with Colton. I don't want you talking with my brother."

Brother? Well, that simultaneously answered many of his questions about Colton's and Rose's relationship and raised a multitude more.

"Wait, why not? Why can't I talk to him?" Micah pushed.

"Because I don't like you," Rose said simply, before turning to Colton. "Come on." She said to the boy who was apparently her brother. "Let's go somewhere else."

Colton shook his head, then pointed to the door that led outside. Outside to the shower.

"Fine, but make it quick." Rose huffed. "I'm going to go to my room to wait."

Her head turned to face Micah again, and he assumed she was glaring at him, though he couldn't tell. So he just aimed a winning smile at her, as genuine as he could make it. Anger lit up within her. Just as he hoped it would. She pivoted and marched off, her heavy footsteps headed towards the stairs.

"Do you think we should go to our rooms too?" Max's voice piped up after a moment.

Micah raised an eyebrow over at him. "If you want to, go ahead."

"You're just going to stay down here?"

Micah shook his head. "For now, at least. I'm going to keep my distance from all of them." He wasn't going to get anywhere near Rose, Lian, and Alastor if he could help it. They hated him. And he wasn't particularly fond of any of them, either.

"Alright," Max said. "What about you, Colton?"

The mute boy just pointed off towards the door again.

"Oh, yeah." Max nodded. "Shower. You go ahead and do that, then. I'm going to go look around."

With that, the group was split. Max walked off towards the downstairs hallway, his metal robotic foot clanking against the concrete. Colton took his spare clothes and went outside to wash. Micah remained where he was for a moment. Alone and without a single thought in his head as to what he should do next.

As he stood there, free of the burden of conscious thought, his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He flinched a bit. That was the pattern he'd set for text messages. Strange. He didn't know why anyone would be texting him.

He pulled out his phone. The screen lit up, activated as he raised it to his face. With his sixth sense, he could just barely make out some of the multi-colored shapes. But no words. So he sighed, walked off to one of the many crates scattered around the area, hopped up on it, and activated the dictation feature.

"From an unknown number." The digital voice announced. "Micah. It's me, Addie. I know you blocked me and turned off your tracking. I know you don't want to talk to me, or for me to know where you are, but I don't care. I had to switch my number to text you, and I'll do it again if you block me again, so don't."

Micah was already cringing. Great. He'd blocked Adelaide the day he ran away to prevent just this. He knew the sort of thing she was going to say. It was the same speech she rattled off every time she rescued him from fights and nursed him back to health.

"Micah, I don't know what I did to upset you. I'm sorry if I pushed you too hard. But you didn't need to run off. You didn't need to cut me out. I'm worried about you. I'm scared that the next time I find you, you won't be alive. I don't want to lose you, Micah. I can't. I can't lose another one of my little brothers. Losing Matthew was hard on both of us. Don't make me go through losing you too."

Micah squeezed his eyes shut. Each word drove a knife through his heart. Guilt. That's what this was. Crippling guilt. He'd always been the one to protect them. Addie. Mattie. They didn't share the same blood, but they were bound together by their shared situation. Found family. Similar, and yet... Micah had always been different.

Adelaide and Matthew had been dreamers. They were good. Truly good, in every sense of the word. Micah wasn't. And he'd never wanted them to lose that. To suffer. To become more like him. He'd always taken the pain on himself. Shouldered the burdens life threw at them.

But now? Now he was causing her pain. Making her suffer. Being a burden.

It went against everything he stood for. After all the good she'd done for him, here he was, suffocating her in worry and distress.

He could almost picture her. Pacing back and forth as she typed, her face wrought with agonizing concern. Her short wavy hair was messy, falling in front of her eyes. But she was too engrossed in her phone, desperate for a reply, to care.

But he wasn't going to reply. He couldn't. He knew she'd pull him in. His guilt would build until it weighed down on him, crushing him. He'd have to do as she said. All this would be for nothing. He'd have to give up on this venture before it really even began.

His phone buzzed again, and his heart fell even more.

"Second message. From an unknown number." The digital voice continued. "Please, Micah. I know you're getting these. Please text me back. I just need to know that you're alive. That you're okay. Just text me back. Call me. Anything."

Micah rubbed at his aching chest. His head spun. Horrible. This was horrible. He was horrible. His fingers hovered over the screen. He could just text her, right? He could tell her that he was alive, but that he couldn't come home.

But... no. She'd pressure him for details. And she'd get them. He'd spill it all, and she'd come running. There was no way in hell his sister would ever let him stay in this dingy, dirty, rotten "villain school". She'd tried so hard to keep him from becoming a little delinquent. This was the opposite of what she'd wanted for him. She'd drag him out by his ears. Arrest him, if she needed to. And very likely try to arrest the others as well.

His heart ran cold at the thought. He knew nothing about Scythe or his abilities. All he knew was that Scythe knew about his past. About how he'd worked for Pardus before losing his sight. Lapis, he'd been called. Pardus's personal little pet. A jealously guarded secret. Pardus hadn't wanted many people knowing that Lapis was just a child. It would've made Micah's jobs that much more difficult. It would've ruined the drama and mystery. And oh, Pardus how loved drama and mystery.

If Scythe knew who he was, he was dangerous. There was no doubt about it. The man was not one Micah wanted Adelaide around. He'd been so quick to order all of his students to kill each other. He was either crazy... or he really just didn't care about human lives. Either way, not a stable man. Nor a villain to be taken lightly.

No, Micah couldn't let her find out where he was. Not ever.

"Third message. From an unknown number."

He blinked, surprised as she sent him yet another text.

"I know you're in Amberchase."

He froze. "What?" He breathed aloud. "How?"

"I'm coming to find you, Micah."

Oh, God. That was just great. Adelaide was a little too good at finding people. Sometimes he wondered if she would've been better suited as a private detective.

"Be safe. Don't do anything stupid. I love you."

The message ended.

"Oh no." He murmured to himself.

This was a problem. He didn't know how she found out he was in Amberchase. That put him on edge. After all, if she'd found a clue, others could too. He had quite a few enemies in Amberchase. But one in particular, he feared most of all.

He'd spent three years fearing Pardus. Having nightmares over what would happen if the cold man ever found him. He'd wanted Micah dead. That's what Arc had told him. And Pardus always got what he wanted. If Pardus knew Micah was in the city, right under his nose? Hell would rain down upon him.

His palm pressed harder into his chest. He clenched his hands, trying to still them as they began to shake. This was bad. So bad. There wasn't a word for how bad it was. Adelaide was on her way to Amberchase to hunt him down, and somewhere, he'd left a clue that revealed his existence here. He needed to figure out what it was before it got him killed.

Calm. He needed to calm down. To think rationally. To make a plan.

But his mind was consumed by memories of shouting, of hissed threats, of pain. Of Arc and Shrill bearing down on Adelaide, going in for the kill. Of Arc's arm slicing towards Micah as the boy ran to save her, a blade of air gouging into his chest. Of Matthew crying, pleading.

He couldn't block it out.

"God." Micah groaned, doubling over as his head spun, as he struggled to breathe.

He was going to die. Pardus was going to find him, to find Adelaide, and to finish the job he'd started three years ago. And it was all his fault. He never should've run away. He'd put Adelaide into danger to satiate his boredom. He was selfish. Arrogant. An awful brother.

Stop that. He almost heard Addie's voice chide him. Just breathe. In and out, Mikey.

He took in a shuddering breath as a much more soothing memory took over. Addie's gentle hands on his shoulders as he squatted on the floor, hunched over his knees, hyperventilating. She was patient. Caring. Comforting. She guided him through it.

He forced himself to relax, to release the tension he was clinging to. He tried to recall her voice.

"B-breathe in." He managed to stammer out, his voice weak and shaking as he fought his lungs for control of his breathing. "Breathe out."

In, then out. He let the mantra echo around him, mindlessly repeating the words until he found that he could breathe again. His arms were weak, quivering, but he once again had control of himself. He shuddered. It had been a long, long time since he'd last gone through an attack like that alone. It was miserable.

"God." He muttered. "I'm so screwed."

No, he forced himself to think. No, he was just overthinking it. He was going to be fine. He didn't know that Pardus knew anything about him. He was fine. He'd just make sure to be a bit more careful in the future.

Micah had to focus on one problem at a time. And the first problem in line was Addie. He had to make sure she didn't find him. Because the moment she found him? He'd be done. His education with Scythe would be over before it could even begin.

He wasn't going to let that happen. Not if he could help it. He needed this. He needed to be on his own, to figure out who he was and what he wanted. He couldn't do that with Addie. He loved her dearly, but she was far too overprotective. She'd never let him grow or develop. She'd never let him do what he needed to do to make him happy.

After all, she could never understand why this life, why crime and villainy and lawlessness was so appealing to him. Why it brought him such joy. And she never would. They were too different from one another.

They were on diverging paths now. Destined to grow apart or oppose one another someday. He didn't know which would be worse. Micah didn't want to lose his sister. He couldn't. Not after losing Matthew, his best friend and brother. He wouldn't be able to take it. But he also wasn't about to let her drag him away from what he wanted. He'd fight her, if he had to. He'd fight tooth and nail for this. For his freedom.

Micah stared down at his phone. It had gone dark. She sent him no more messages. Almost as if she were trying to tell him that the next time she spoke to him, it would be to his face. Not through his phone.

He'd have to prepare for that. He'd need to train himself. Not just his body, but his mind as well. He'd have to be able to keep her from taking him away from this. From convincing him to leave. It would be hard, but he'd do it. He'd train every minute of every hour of every day.

He'd train, so when Adelaide came, bringing with her the burden of his guilts and regrets, he'd be strong enough to bear them. He'd be strong enough to fight her off, to win.

He was going to be prepared for her.

"You aren't going to win this one, Addie." Micah softly swore. "I'll be waiting for you to find me. And I'll be ready."