GUARDIAN: Safe Running.
Apr. 18th, 2002 05:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kuangningMaya
She stumbled around the corner of the building, and crouched down behind the dumpsters in the alley to catch her breath. Her dark hair fell in tangled curls over her face, and she brushed it back with her hand with a gesture that revealed frightened amber eyes in an impossibly young face. She stayed still only long enough to stop panting, and to give her surroundings a shrewd look-over. Then she pulled a knapsack from her back, and, producing a brush and compact, began to work quickly. In short order, the mop of curls had been pulled into a simple twist on top of her head, and an application of make-up had lessened the traumatised expression she still wore, and added a few years to her apparent age. Behind her, she could hear people approaching; it was time to go.
She stood gracefully, not displaying any outward signs of undue hurry, though the haunted look never left her eyes, and walked over to the nearest corner, where she crossed the street without looking back, and disappeared into the foot traffic.
He watched her go, moving to follow her only once it became clear that she was moving rapidly, purposefully, and was not likely to notice him. She could not really escape, of course. Seth had never failed to recover a runaway, had never once failed his charges. The shimmering holograph on his wristband proclaimed him Elite. The chip embedded in his upper arm declared him a mystery, a half-seen shadow spoken of only in whispers, a fable told to frightened juveniles by concerned parents. It held his personal job record.. in fourteen years, as long as the child he followed had been alive, Seth had recovered eighty-seven juveniles. He had had two deaths occur during the course of those recoveries. The bodies had been recovered, however, so his record was flawless. It also told that he was now linked to thirty-six juveniles, including Maya Hendrix, juvenile MH-F01-10-2345. He had trailed her for ten hours since the alert had first sounded, and he was anticipating another successful recovery, and a warm bed once he had returned the juvenile to her home. He could have recovered her in the alley, but something about the child did not quite fit his mental profile of her, nor his experience, and he had decided to let her run for a little while longer. He was curious, Seth admitted to himself. Where was the girl going? And why? He followed her at a distance, his attention focused on the slight figure moving with a good counterfeit of confidence through the crowd.
Maya made her way through the crowds as quickly as she could without rousing suspicion. "I'm only going to school," she repeated to herself, a mantra against rising panic. "This is perfectly normal." She did not look back, and she ignored the tingling of her inner arm, as she had done for hours already. "There are no Guardians," she thought desperately, willing it so. "They're only stories told to children. They don't exist. And even if they did, where was mine when I needed one? I'm in this by myself. Better get used to it now."
Her face hardened as she let herself remember the home, and what she was leaving behind her, and her fingers tightened on the straps of the knapsack.
She was passing out of familiar territory now, and she reminded herself to be alert. It wouldn't do to get lost. She took note of the brick buildings, repeating numbers to herself, being mindful to stay where the people were, to stay in the crowd and look like she belonged. Or at least as if she knew where she was going. She paused once, to read a well-worn piece of paper she pulled from the pocket of her jacket.
2316 Volenta turned out to be an unassuming brownstone. Maya stood on the doorstep for a moment, gathering her courage, and then knocked decisively at the door.
A child of about six opened the door and blinked at her, tousled fair curls and ingenuous blue eyes attesting to a recent nap. Maya, caught off-guard, fought back a rising wave of panic. Was she in the wrong place?
"What do you want?" the child asked. Impossible to tell gender from that voice, and the teenager didn't try. Taking one deep breath, she launched into her story, brief as it was, trying not to stumble over the words in the telling. "Mitchell sent me," she said. "I'm Maya, and he said to look for Garrett if I ever needed help, and I need help for sure. Is Garrett here?"
The door opened wider, and the child... the girl, she could see now... stepped back, to let her into a sparsely furnished room.
Seth watched her enter the house from the cover of a nearby doorway, and frowned. He had recovered four juveniles from this household, for lack of a better word. No sooner did a young female leave the safety of the homes, it seemed, than she wound up in a house such as this one. Further proof, if such were necessary, that some juveniles could not be saved. Were flawed from birth, and corrupt. Maya Hendrix had not seemed the type. He was disappointed in her.
He considered recovering her right then, and could not say why he stayed his hand.
In the front room, the girl waved Maya to a seat, and passed through a doorway that Maya had not noticed, as it was obscured from view by a huge potted plant. The child ducked behind the plant with no show of selfconsciousness, and before Maya's protest could be voiced, she was alone.
The room was far from clean, and Maya shivered slightly. Despite Mitchell's reassurances about his friend Garrett, she was tempted to walk out the door right now. If she'd had any clue of where to go or how to get there, though, she wouldn't be relying on the word of a boy who had no reason to like her. Sex, after all, didn't constitute a bond. If it did, then Maya would have had a real home, and real parents. Instead, she'd had a grave marker, and weekly visitations to a corrections unit. And the safety of the home, she thought to herself bitterly, her mouth setting in hard lines that brought a grim satisfaction to the older man observing her from behind the potted plant. He was careful, however, to smile warmly at her when he decided he'd seen enough and emerged from hiding to greet her.
"Maya?" The man smiled, and extended his hand to her, and the young woman rose gracefully to meet him halfway. "Garrett?" she questioned in her turn, and he nodded. "Thank goodness. Mitchell sent me... well, I guess you know that." She broke off uncertainly, though she was smiling tentatively now.
He was kind, and careful. The arm he slipped around her shoulders made her stiffen, but she didn't pull away or shrug it off. "Mitchell told me a bit about his lovely friend Maya, yes." Garrett kept his tone light, and a smile on his face. The glance she shot him was apprehensive, but she pushed her hair back from her face and squared her shoulders in one firm gesture. "Yes, well, Mitchell is... biased." It was an attempt at humour, and she almost carried it off. "If I recall correctly, he calls any female lovely who doesn't fall into bed with him immediately."
He laughed, then, and the arm around her tightened in a brief hug. "You know Mitchell pretty well," Garrett chuckled, guiding her behind the plant and down the hallway the doorway revealed.
He led her to a tiny room, and indicated that she should sit. Maya perched on the edge of a little cot, and he seated himself facing her, on a chair. The only other piece of furnishing in the room was an old-fashioned pedestal wash stand. "This is your room," he said. "We haven't many other girls right now so you get to have it to yourself." She looked around again. "It's mine? Just like that? What do you want in return?" He raised his hands in a gesture of denial, palms outward. "Don't worry about that. We're here to help you. If you really want to repay us, we'll talk about it after you've gotten settled in. Certainly not before you've had a few days to get your bearings. I'll go now, and send Rhia to you. She's been here since she was two, and she'll help you find your way around." He rose, and made his way out, pausing in the doorway to smile at her. "I'm glad you've made it here, Maya. And I think you'll find that you like it. Most of our girls do."
She sat on the cot, staring after him, until his footsteps could no longer be heard, and rubbed absently at the tingling spot on her arm, which was somehow worse than ever. And, unseen and unsuspected, outside the house her Guardian waited, and cursed himself for a fool.
Seth shifted his weight uneasily from one knee to another, and scowled to himself. Why was he hesitating? He ought to be retrieving the girl, and going about his business. She'd be returned to the Home, or placed in detention if she chose to be intransigent, but she would, either way, no longer be his responsibility. That was the point, wasn't it? He turned the thought over in his mind, keeping up the internal monologue that almost every Guardian developed who spent more than about four years in the field.
(more later.)
She stumbled around the corner of the building, and crouched down behind the dumpsters in the alley to catch her breath. Her dark hair fell in tangled curls over her face, and she brushed it back with her hand with a gesture that revealed frightened amber eyes in an impossibly young face. She stayed still only long enough to stop panting, and to give her surroundings a shrewd look-over. Then she pulled a knapsack from her back, and, producing a brush and compact, began to work quickly. In short order, the mop of curls had been pulled into a simple twist on top of her head, and an application of make-up had lessened the traumatised expression she still wore, and added a few years to her apparent age. Behind her, she could hear people approaching; it was time to go.
She stood gracefully, not displaying any outward signs of undue hurry, though the haunted look never left her eyes, and walked over to the nearest corner, where she crossed the street without looking back, and disappeared into the foot traffic.
He watched her go, moving to follow her only once it became clear that she was moving rapidly, purposefully, and was not likely to notice him. She could not really escape, of course. Seth had never failed to recover a runaway, had never once failed his charges. The shimmering holograph on his wristband proclaimed him Elite. The chip embedded in his upper arm declared him a mystery, a half-seen shadow spoken of only in whispers, a fable told to frightened juveniles by concerned parents. It held his personal job record.. in fourteen years, as long as the child he followed had been alive, Seth had recovered eighty-seven juveniles. He had had two deaths occur during the course of those recoveries. The bodies had been recovered, however, so his record was flawless. It also told that he was now linked to thirty-six juveniles, including Maya Hendrix, juvenile MH-F01-10-2345. He had trailed her for ten hours since the alert had first sounded, and he was anticipating another successful recovery, and a warm bed once he had returned the juvenile to her home. He could have recovered her in the alley, but something about the child did not quite fit his mental profile of her, nor his experience, and he had decided to let her run for a little while longer. He was curious, Seth admitted to himself. Where was the girl going? And why? He followed her at a distance, his attention focused on the slight figure moving with a good counterfeit of confidence through the crowd.
Maya made her way through the crowds as quickly as she could without rousing suspicion. "I'm only going to school," she repeated to herself, a mantra against rising panic. "This is perfectly normal." She did not look back, and she ignored the tingling of her inner arm, as she had done for hours already. "There are no Guardians," she thought desperately, willing it so. "They're only stories told to children. They don't exist. And even if they did, where was mine when I needed one? I'm in this by myself. Better get used to it now."
Her face hardened as she let herself remember the home, and what she was leaving behind her, and her fingers tightened on the straps of the knapsack.
She was passing out of familiar territory now, and she reminded herself to be alert. It wouldn't do to get lost. She took note of the brick buildings, repeating numbers to herself, being mindful to stay where the people were, to stay in the crowd and look like she belonged. Or at least as if she knew where she was going. She paused once, to read a well-worn piece of paper she pulled from the pocket of her jacket.
2316 Volenta turned out to be an unassuming brownstone. Maya stood on the doorstep for a moment, gathering her courage, and then knocked decisively at the door.
A child of about six opened the door and blinked at her, tousled fair curls and ingenuous blue eyes attesting to a recent nap. Maya, caught off-guard, fought back a rising wave of panic. Was she in the wrong place?
"What do you want?" the child asked. Impossible to tell gender from that voice, and the teenager didn't try. Taking one deep breath, she launched into her story, brief as it was, trying not to stumble over the words in the telling. "Mitchell sent me," she said. "I'm Maya, and he said to look for Garrett if I ever needed help, and I need help for sure. Is Garrett here?"
The door opened wider, and the child... the girl, she could see now... stepped back, to let her into a sparsely furnished room.
Seth watched her enter the house from the cover of a nearby doorway, and frowned. He had recovered four juveniles from this household, for lack of a better word. No sooner did a young female leave the safety of the homes, it seemed, than she wound up in a house such as this one. Further proof, if such were necessary, that some juveniles could not be saved. Were flawed from birth, and corrupt. Maya Hendrix had not seemed the type. He was disappointed in her.
He considered recovering her right then, and could not say why he stayed his hand.
In the front room, the girl waved Maya to a seat, and passed through a doorway that Maya had not noticed, as it was obscured from view by a huge potted plant. The child ducked behind the plant with no show of selfconsciousness, and before Maya's protest could be voiced, she was alone.
The room was far from clean, and Maya shivered slightly. Despite Mitchell's reassurances about his friend Garrett, she was tempted to walk out the door right now. If she'd had any clue of where to go or how to get there, though, she wouldn't be relying on the word of a boy who had no reason to like her. Sex, after all, didn't constitute a bond. If it did, then Maya would have had a real home, and real parents. Instead, she'd had a grave marker, and weekly visitations to a corrections unit. And the safety of the home, she thought to herself bitterly, her mouth setting in hard lines that brought a grim satisfaction to the older man observing her from behind the potted plant. He was careful, however, to smile warmly at her when he decided he'd seen enough and emerged from hiding to greet her.
"Maya?" The man smiled, and extended his hand to her, and the young woman rose gracefully to meet him halfway. "Garrett?" she questioned in her turn, and he nodded. "Thank goodness. Mitchell sent me... well, I guess you know that." She broke off uncertainly, though she was smiling tentatively now.
He was kind, and careful. The arm he slipped around her shoulders made her stiffen, but she didn't pull away or shrug it off. "Mitchell told me a bit about his lovely friend Maya, yes." Garrett kept his tone light, and a smile on his face. The glance she shot him was apprehensive, but she pushed her hair back from her face and squared her shoulders in one firm gesture. "Yes, well, Mitchell is... biased." It was an attempt at humour, and she almost carried it off. "If I recall correctly, he calls any female lovely who doesn't fall into bed with him immediately."
He laughed, then, and the arm around her tightened in a brief hug. "You know Mitchell pretty well," Garrett chuckled, guiding her behind the plant and down the hallway the doorway revealed.
He led her to a tiny room, and indicated that she should sit. Maya perched on the edge of a little cot, and he seated himself facing her, on a chair. The only other piece of furnishing in the room was an old-fashioned pedestal wash stand. "This is your room," he said. "We haven't many other girls right now so you get to have it to yourself." She looked around again. "It's mine? Just like that? What do you want in return?" He raised his hands in a gesture of denial, palms outward. "Don't worry about that. We're here to help you. If you really want to repay us, we'll talk about it after you've gotten settled in. Certainly not before you've had a few days to get your bearings. I'll go now, and send Rhia to you. She's been here since she was two, and she'll help you find your way around." He rose, and made his way out, pausing in the doorway to smile at her. "I'm glad you've made it here, Maya. And I think you'll find that you like it. Most of our girls do."
She sat on the cot, staring after him, until his footsteps could no longer be heard, and rubbed absently at the tingling spot on her arm, which was somehow worse than ever. And, unseen and unsuspected, outside the house her Guardian waited, and cursed himself for a fool.
Seth shifted his weight uneasily from one knee to another, and scowled to himself. Why was he hesitating? He ought to be retrieving the girl, and going about his business. She'd be returned to the Home, or placed in detention if she chose to be intransigent, but she would, either way, no longer be his responsibility. That was the point, wasn't it? He turned the thought over in his mind, keeping up the internal monologue that almost every Guardian developed who spent more than about four years in the field.
(more later.)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-04-18 04:22 pm (UTC)can I get an estimate of the year?
no subject
Date: 2002-04-18 04:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-04-18 06:34 pm (UTC)MH-F01-10-2345 so that makes it the year 2359
thanks ^_^
no subject
Date: 2002-04-18 10:09 pm (UTC)Want more. Want LOTS more. Like, now.
This rocks.
no subject
Date: 2002-04-26 09:36 am (UTC)