"Why did we stop?" 

I marched over to the railing, watching as the Civilians laid out the plank that stretched across to the sand dune on the other side.

"This is as far as we go with the blimp," Trent answered. 

Shouts to move and pack up rose among the aircraft, Civilians collecting whatever goods they could get their hands on. 

"How come?"  I glanced up as clear skies looked back at me without a cloud in sight.

"Passing Villain territory involves not getting caught, sugar cakes," Trent answered, lugging a rifle on his back. 

I raised a brow and watched the big boned men carry wooden crates on their backs.  "Those crates."  I counted three and laid my gaze over what seemed to be almost a hundred Civilians preparing to depart the blimp.  "That supply is enough food for how many days?"

Trent was already ahead of me, shouting over his shoulder.  "They'll last us about three hours."

"You're shitting sandwiches," Roger said.  The freshmeat stuck his bottom lip out and jerked his head up at me.  "He's shitting sandwiches, isn't he?"  

I tugged on the rope around his waist and yanked him close to my side.  "You don't get to talk remember?" 

"The topic of food is an exception," he answered back, miserably trying to loosen the rope. 

"There is no exception, you backstabbing liar," I snapped and yanked him towards the line of Civilians.  He grumbled a nasty word I refused to repeat, and pulled him even harder to the line.  "You don't get to speak," I ordered.

"You don't get to speak," he mocked in a snobbish voice and snickered. 

"Asshole," I muttered and peered over the line of Civilians.  People began picking up the pace as people paraded off, bags or hands on their head to fend back the sun.  I heard rustling and complaints and I followed the Civilians attention as our eyes drew to the back of the line.  Archer and Lance wrestled against their metal cuffs, bruised and furious. 

I faced forward, keeping them behind me as I moved with the rest.  By the time our sandals sunk into the sand dune, it was still midday and not a breeze blew by.   

The Civilians marched off in a big pack, moving fast through the dunes.  I caught up with Trent who moved in the middle of the pack, asking Civilians if they needed a load off of their backs or needed a drink.

"Who'd think Civilians were kind," Roger said with a harsh laugh.  Lately, his backbone was much stronger, smile more crooked than usual. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"  I returned the glare of Civilians as their tired eyes took in the leash in my hand and Roger trekking behind.

"They're supposed to be monsters like us," Roger replied, kicking the sand under his feet.  "Except poorer.  Crazier.  Dirtier."

I barked a laugh.  "I didn't know such thing existed.  Dirtier than a Villain?" 

Roger shrugged.  "They had nothing after the Heroes and Villains collided in war.  A crazier Civilian lived longer than a sane one."  He paused and shrugged again.  "That's what Villain Academy taught us anyway."

I didn't respond, and searched for Trent again, spotting that slicked back purple hair out of the sea of hats and bandanas.  I tugged Roger to follow—no that he had a choice, snaking through the crowd and touched the Civilian's rolled up sleeve.  "Hey." 

Trent turned over his shoulder and flashed that childish smile.  "Hey yourself." 

"Where are we going?" I demanded.  I spread my arm out.  "There's nothing out here."

"For shelter," he answered. 

"What about food?" 

"Just worry about keeping up."

He moved faster, disappearing into the muddle of Civilians who were already dragging their feet.  But Roger and I kept up with ease, the beasts inside of us pumping more strength in whenever we needed it.  Hours dragged on, pink strands of my hair beginning to my stick to my cheeks.  Crates were slowly emptied, food disappearing into stomachs and water became sparse.  

"We're here," Trent announced and faint cheers rolled across the exhausted group. 

"Dinner time?!" Roger cried out and clamped his hands together, shaking them dearly.  

Lights flickered in the distance, thin drapes holding up what looked like tents.  The night had fallen and the heat vanished, a nice breeze brushing through my hair. 

Types of beast, witches and other paranormal creatures didn't pay any attention to the group of Civilians coming into this little market, minds interested in trading off and having a couple of pints for the road.

"Travelers?" Vhalerie asked, speaking her thoughts.

"Rogues," Roger answered.  "Supernatural creatures or Citizens who abandoned their homes and live on their own."

I turned my head around.  "How do you know more shit than I do?"

"'Cause I actually paid attention in class," he said under his breath and coughed.  "Obviously."

"I liked you better when your voice was high and you complained about walking and did my laundry," I growled back. 

The group stopped by a tent, a couple of werewolves greeting us with grunts and nods.  Several armed Citizens guarded Lance and Archer who sat in the sand, arms still shackled.  Lance tried to say something, but was told to shut up by one of the Citizens.  Archer's gaze moved across the market and found mine.  I quickly looked away.

One Citizen was sitting on a barrel, hunched over with heavy pants.  Trent patted his back before straying away to another tent.  I moved around to catch him approach an old creature hidden under a cloak that seemed to swallow their body whole. 

He did a strange bow thing and began talking.  The witch didn't move as Trent's gesture became more violent as his voice rose. 

"That witch seems very social," whispered Roger and I shoved my hand in his face.

Trent screamed and stormed off with a frustrated growl.

"It looks like you did well," Roger praised and received another slap from me. 

"Fucking old people," Trent muttered, stealing another glance at the witch who still hadn't moved.  "Just because they've lived for a couple centuries means they think they're top shit."

"What does he—she, uh, never mind.  What does the witch want?" I questioned.  

"In exchange for a food supply, she wants something almost imposs—"  He paused.  His eyes fell down to Roger.  Then me.  "She wants something that you can get for me."

"Oh no."  Roger groaned.  "The witch wants our first born child?  Dammit, I knew those Citizen fairytales were true.  Vhalerie, I knew this day was to come, but I didn't think it would be today. Your biological clock is gonna have to hurry up a little faster—yeowch!"

I removed my hand from the back of his head and looked at Trent.  "I'm not helping you with anything," I simply said.  "You're practically holding me captive and turned the kid I babysit against me."

Trent took a step forward and poked me in the chest.  "Suck it up, missy.  I'll be the bossy pants around this town.  That old hag over there?  She's our only way to get food.  Her payment is whatever she wishes."

"How does a silent bitch like that have a food supply for over a hundred?"  Roger took a peek at her and quickly looked back at us if he had stared too long. 

"She's got magic, idiot," I told him.

"She's been asking for weird things these days in exchange for food.  But this time, she has gone bonkers." Trent added.  "But I think you two can get your hands on it."

Roger's ears perked at the mention of food.  "And?" 

Trent flashed a hinting smile.  "That's when you come in"

His smile made me squirm and I tried my best to keep still.  "How so?"

"I'm sure you're both familiar with Villain Academy."  His eyes twinkled in amusement. 

+++

A/N: Next chapter talks about Roger and his transformation, if you're wondering.

Initially, this was a longer chapter, but I cut in half because it was too long. 

I hope you liked it! 

The good news is that the next chapter is already done! WOOHOO!!

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