'Plans, team?' The boss asks. They are facing their team, all clad in their porcelain masks. Plus one. Zeva flicks a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder, somehow perfectly synced with Zara. Juno is reclining in his armchair, arms and legs in the perfect position to annoy Myloe slightly too much. Heavenly is pacing the back corners, her pale eyes drowsily roving the room. The guest is sat back in their armchair, in some sort of shock.

'Well, we need to get to him through other people,' Juno yawns, resting his elbow on Myloe's shoulder. Myloe hisses through his teeth, slapping Juno away with great fervour, 'We've got some sort of data around who he's related to. He has a husband, right? Queer.'

'Alright, none of that, Juno. Non-binary ass name,' Heavenly sniggers from the back of the room.

'Oi, you lot! Quit the bickering,' The boss slams their fists down onto the table, 'But, good idea, Juno. He has, in fact, got a husband. But I refuse to lay a finger on Ashton. Someone else... think Alexis and Hana. They work here. Good friends with him.'

'I've infiltrated the friend group of Jamie and Cheri. Jamie's bedridden with a horrible ghoul haunting him,' Myloe holds a weak finger up, 'We could go for someone in there.'

'Who's that one girl with the colourful hair?' Zara asks, raking her fingers through her pretty blonde locks, 'Ramona Flowers?'

'No, do you mean Cheri? The French one, yeah,' Myloe confirms, fiddling with the starched collar of his shirt. It's beginning to cut into the pale skin of his neck, 'I could set to work on that tonight.'

'Okay, off you skedaddle, Myloe. Don't need your teenage bitchiness with us,' Juno giggles. Myloe stands up perfectly straight, punching Juno right in his porcelain nose. The mask cracks slightly, and Juno gives a high-pitched whiny yelp of pain.

'I've killed twenty times the people you have in a quarter of your lifespan. Shut your fucking mouth.'

Myloe storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Heavenly snorts in laughter, 'Fruity boy.'

*

Cheri is biting her fingernails, walking back from Jamie's house, a fifteen minute walk back in pitch black in London side streets. Her headphones blast French music, trying to lift her spirits. Despite the bouncy tempos, the lyrics are all about paining themes. As she stares down at the Rubble of the ground, she bumps into someone stood in front of her.

'Ah, my apologies,' Cheri holds a hand up, looking for some sort of forgiveness. As she looks at the person, they begin to turn slightly. Cheri notices a porcelain mask covering their face, unruly black curls poking up around the band hilting it into place. They are a few inches taller than her, their pale skin illuminated in the weak light polluted moonlight. Their spindly fingers tap along a sharp object. Cheri nearly screams, but she keeps her cool, boring her pale green eyes into the slits in the mask for their eyes. She takes a deep breath in through her teeth. She forms a tight fist with her right hand, landing a sharp blow into their stomach. They barely flinch, revealing the item in their hand.

A dagger.

The handle is ornate silver, with a few carvings on it; a feather, a dragon, a spider, a flame. The blade is sharp, sharper than most. Enough to cause some sort of fatal damage. They make a mad swipe at her, but she's quick enough to dodge their valiant attempt. She swings her leg up to kick the mask off of their face, but they grab her ankle before it can reach them, throwing her backward by the shoe. They approach her, but Cheri sweeps her leg underneath their feet, tripping them backward. They begin to panic as she stands up. They somehow reach her, stabbing her in the thigh. She hisses through her teeth, grabbing the weapon. Before she can look up to catch them, they're gone. Just gone. Blood begins to seep into her trousers. Just a few more streets, Cheri thinks, her vision beginning to cloud over in pained rainbow static, They will get me fixed up at home.

Her nerves begin to feel icy, her legs shaking slightly. She hauls herself down the streets, limping heavily. With each step she takes, more blood pours into her trouser leg. Weak. Alexis and Ashton didn't teach me to fight like that, she thinks. Hot tears begin to pour down her face as she raps three times on the door, deep urgency in her hands. She slumps down into the front porch in her corner. It feels like forever until someone opens the door.

'What the fu... Cheri, are you okay?' She barely recognises the voice. All she knows about them is that they're probably a man. She feels herself being picked up and carried inside, the door swinging shut behind them. She feels like a deadweight, heavy and limp in the person's arms.

'What happened?'

'I don't know, but she's hurt. There's blood, she's been stabbed.'

'Fuck. Fuck.'

'Oh God, oh Jesus...'

'Cheri, you'll be okay. Don't worry, you're safe with us,' Is all she hears before she slips out of consciousness.

*

Cheri wakes up in her own bed. She's still wearing her clothes from the previous day. Her prosthetic hand is charging on her bedside table, which she figures is why she's having such a hard time getting the bedcovers off of her. When she does, she sees her right trouser leg seems to have been cut off. There's a large wad of bandage tied in a bow around her thigh, blood soaked into the fabric. She hauls herself out of bed, wining at the sharp pain in her leg as she straightens herself up. She feels inordinately hungry. As she exits her room, a wave of anxiety hits her. Jamie. What about Jamie? Is he okay? She can't remember, she got too carried away with being stabbed yesterday. A cloud of anxiety follows her painfully down the stairs, growing bigger, threatening to rain. She looks out of the front window; Ashton and Kristoffer's car is gone. Alexis and Hana are at work. The whole three floors, twelve rooms, all to herself. Her little self in this big world. She looks out into the back garden after she makes herself a honey and lemon tea. It's green, dotted with what was bright colours. They're dead, frost covering wilted flower buds. It makes her feel comfortable and elated, but also sleepy and sick. As she tips the last of her tea down her throat, Cheri walks back into the kitchen. On the fridge, there is a new sticky note with a message.

Hi Cheri,

We're really sorry we aren't here, we have things to do. Jamie's feeling better than yesterday. Kristoffer got your leg all fixed, and we put your prosthetic back on charge, because you never do that, you silly thing. Me and Hana will be back from work at about five, but if we're late, Ashton might come over to keep you company. Get plenty of rest.

Love you lots!
Alexis

*

Ashton is looking around the streets of London, just looking for something to keep his mind off of the bustle of the world. He's already looked in plenty of art shops, bought plenty of presents, run a few errands, but nothing keeps him away from his worries. He enters a little cobbled side alley, full of nothing. He leans back against the wall, reading through something stupid on his phone. Everything then seems to fade into black. He wakes up in a dark room.

'Rockwell.'

'Wh... Don't call me that name-'

'Shh. We need your help with something.'

Ashton feels the cold metal of a gun press into his forehead. He lets out an exasperated sigh.

'What? Money? I don't do that.'

'No. Just a favour.'

'...Go ahead.'

'Well, the police and the rest of the world are close to discovering the mysteries of the Order of the Wren. We need your help to keep us undercover. Stay away from anything to do with us. Keep us a secret. Don't report back to Eddie, to the police, to Kristoffer. Anyone. And in return, we'll leave you alone too. If not, your lifespan may be... let's say, cut short. Untimely.'

Ashton considers this for a second, 'Fine.'

*

Punctured bicycle on a hillside.

Desolate.

Will nature make a man of me yet?

Jamie runs his fingers through the grass in the park. It shuts the voice up with every time the blades brush across his fingertips. The music blasting in his ears inly helps more. For the first time in a week, he smiles, smiles with the joy of sweet silence from the nagging. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet.

jamzkathylhannn

hey, how are you? i'm feeling a lot better than yesterday, the thing's kinda shut up 🤷

the1andonlymseelwhile

yh i'm good but i kinda got stabbed when i left yours

oh fuck i should not have said that

Jamie nearly throws his phone into the pond right next to him. His heart begins to throb out of his chest.

jamzkathylhannn

holy shit are you alright?

the1andonlymseelwhile

yeah

tough as nails me m8