Something interesting was happening one night in Montreal Hospital. A baby was being born. But not just your average child. Mason Rodriegez was being born. The baby came, red faced and bawling, bundled in blankets, her tiny fists clawing at the air. The happy couple, now parents, looked at each other and smiled. That happiness didn't last for long.

9 years later.
"Get the mail!" Someone called from down stairs.
"Got it." Mason huffed and jumped down the stairs, two at a time. The old floorboards creaked, dust billowing out with each leap. A pile of letters was on the straw welcome mat, encircled in a rubber band. Mason bent over, her skinny hands scooping up the mail.

"Gimme!"
"You read it last week!"
"Don't be stupid, no one here can read! We just guess!"
"Well, then you guessed it last week!" 12 kids sprinted down the stairs, it creaking under their weight. They argued back and forth over who would read- no, who would guess what was written in the letters.
"All bills." The child in the middle said, flipping through the stack.
"Nah it's not! You never guess right!" Another kid shouted, snatching them from his hand. He read them, getting more and more disappointed with each flip.

"Here's one!" The kid said, holding a letter up in victory. "It's for the freak." The kid snarled and looked at Mason, spitting at her feet and tossing the letter to her.

Mason glared right back at him, but decided against knocking his head into the wall. You had to pick your battles, after all. She ripped open the letter to read the black ink. She could read, unlike most of the kids here. And, for the first time in her life, Mason experienced a weird phenomenon known as happiness. She was leaving the orphanage.

A grin started from the corner of her mouth and spread to her cheeks, until she was smiling from ear to ear.
"See ya' suckers!" She yelled, sprinting back up the stairs. She grabbed her dark green back pack and stuffed her belongings in. A shirt, shorts, a pair of shoes, and her boxing gloves. She whistled while she packed, the kids around her staring at her in shock. The freak was leaving, and they couldn't? Not fair.

* * *

The next day a stranger appeared at the door step of the orphanage, with a brief case and a stack of papers in her hands.
Mr. Kenilworth opened the screen door, staring at the young lady with an accusing eye.
"You taking Mason away?" he said.

"You can say that." The lady said, not even flinching when his awful breath reached her. She walked inside, her arm brushing against his as he tried to block her.

"I need a paper." He said, shoving his hand on her shoulder.
"Right here." The lady answered, showing a warrant to the man and trying to remove his hand from her arm.
"I'm coming!" Mason interrupted, running down the stairs with her old back pack in hand.
"Mason, get back to the room right now, yer' hear me? This prissy lady got nothin' to do here, and she'll best be leaving. Now." He snarled, grinding his teeth.

"Now, I got every right you have to be here, more than you, actually. I can have you locked up for good, treating these kids like dirt!" The lady said, her voice going shrill, and she forced her way inside. Thrusting Mr. Kenilworth's hand away from her, she purposefully stomped on his foot as she stepped past him.

Joey, Mason's friend, suddenly appeared, his skinny and scared face poking out from behind the wall.
"Mister, is now not a good time-" The orphans voice shrunk as Mr. Kenilworth's face contorted and he smacked Joey back.
"Joey, go back to the room, now!" Mason hissed warningly, not wanting to see the worst.
Joeys eyes widened and he tried to jump out of the way, but Mr. Kenilworth swung a hairy arm at his chest, shoving him to the ground.

The young lady froze, her eyes filling with shock. She grabbed Mr. Kenilworth by the collar, whispered something that sounded like a different language, and suddenly the once scary man was now an 8 inch tall dwarf.
Mason looked at her in bewilderment and admiration.
"I'm Jane," She said, calm as could be. She straightened her blazer, her cheeks slightly flushed.
"And you'll be coming with me. Mason Rodriegez, you're a thrafter, and a very important one indeed."