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The Beginning of The End...

The subway tunnel was worn down, cracked and undignified as the children who lived in its hollowed out veins. The station had been a long way into dying slowly by the time the waifs began pouring in. Even when it was shiny and new it had stood no chance of survival. Part of the problem was positioning: the subway had been constructed in the slums, an attempt by city officials to tame the errant population. Half-way through construction, the project had been called off due to gang wars and lack of funding. So it rested now, awaiting death while caring in an indifferent fashion for the strays whom it might have felt a kinship to, alone and forsaken as it had been for such a time.

It had been pleasantly dry in the tunnel as of late, primarily because a few of the older boys had discovered some fiber-glass insulation and stuffed it into any crevices where water leaked or air whistled through. No questions were asked, were even thought of; it did not matter where the useful stuff had come from, or the manner in which it had been recovered.

Filthy blankets that served as beds lay sprawled like fallen soldiers across the concrete slab of the platform, littered with trinkets that the youngsters claimed as their own. A low-lying table with an unsteady leg took up a place in the center, surrounded by cushions in varying states of faded beauty.

The girl considered these objects silently as she took a long drag of her cigarette, crossing her legs in an amusedly regal fashion which gave anyone daring enough a look up her skirt. She watched with a feline brand of satisfaction as several male eyes did in fact turn to glance, tapping the cancer stick to release a thin spiral of ash.

"Sorry, not open for business today," she chirped, hoping off the crate where she had been sitting to come closer and see what the older kids sitting in a circle were examining.

"Then you shouldn't do crap like that, Pell," one boy muttered, moving swiftly to cover the baggy in his possession with a guilty expression on his face.

"Go to hell, Johnny," she snapped in return, pierced nose wrinkling when she knew instinctively what was being hidden. "You moron, the cops are going to be after you for that stuff. After all of us."

"Don't worry so much. It isn't like they would arrest a little gutter-angel like yourself." A blonde girl this time, flaunting a heavily made-up face and cheap plastic nails. "'Sides, the piggies won't find us here, they're not that smart."

"Screw you, Terry," Pell replied flatly, taking another lung-full of smoke before tossing the butt at the affronted girl. "We don't need drug peddling on the list of crap they've already got against us."

"Oh, go dive in a dumpster, Pell-mell," Theresa spat, quickly brushing the burning cinders off of her clothing. "This is a way to make a quick buck."

There was no denying that money was an essential, so the girl fell silent, threading her fingers through the length of her charcoal black hair and wondering if the roots were showing her natural red yet. "Whatever," she muttered after a moment, mainly so as to get the last word in. Theresa smiled triumphantly, and Pell made an obscene gesture in her direction.

"Hey, kids, come on and play nice." A bronzed youth chastised them from the corner where he was carefully divvying white powder into different plastic baggies.

"Jamie, you too?" Pell-mell questioned, watching as the powerful substance was mixed with cheaper household items, fine dustings of flour and sugar the most common. "You know how dangerous that stuff is?"

"Don't worry about it," he advised gently, giving her a grin that made even the grittiest part of her warm up. "This is the last of it for a while, and it'll at least set us up through the winter."

Pell nodded, rubbing her dragon tattoo absently and deciding not to press the matter any further. If Jamie was for it, chances were the whole job would go off without a hitch. Even if it didn't, he was the unofficial leader of their little group, and was not to be rivaled. Doing otherwise came with the threat of being kicked out on a permanent basis.

"I'm going to the store. Anyone want to come?" Pell sidled up the tunnel way, glancing back to see if the other three kids displayed any interest. It was strange to see so few in the tunnel, but she reminded herself with a firm shake of her head that Jennifer had been picked up for thieving, and Ray had disappeared without a word days before. Jamie had been grim-faced about the entire ordeal, and would snap at anyone who mentioned the missing boy.

"Nah, we're gonna have a little fun while the most obnoxious of our brigade is off stealin'." Theresa giggled, her nails stroking the back of Johnny's neck. "Bring me back a lipstick though, I'm almost all out."

"Whatever." Pell jumped down onto tracks that had never seen a train, stalking away with her hands jammed into the tiny pockets on her skirt. "Stupid bimbo... maybe if you didn't put it on like it was necessary for breathing."

She was tired by the time she scaled the broken stairwell into the outside world, already feeling that overwhelming contempt as she saw the people clumped in groups around her. Pell made a beeline for the market, fingers itching when she spotted an open purse or a wallet the could be easily removed from a back pocket.

Pell made it to the grocery aisle without incident, counting the money she had harvested on her brief walk and tossing some essentials that she couldn't pocket into the cart. She picked a bright shade of lipstick that she hoped would make Terry look like a circus act, not above being vindictive when she could pick the time and place.

She paid and left with the plastic bag held low, picking her way back to the station and humming a tune that had been playing quietly over the intercoms. Her pace was purposefully slow to better appreciate the descent of darkness over the city, and she tarried for a moment outside the tunnel to look up and see if any stars were to be found. Pell thought she saw one through the haze of pollution and unnatural light, but when she blinked it was gone.

The teenager ventured down into the tunnels, swinging the bag back and forth while she thought of what star it could have been. Pell-mell paused when a flashlight beam caught her full in the face, drawing up her free hand to put it over her eyes and yelling in vague annoyance, "Hey, what the hell do you guys - ?"

"It's another one!" A deep voice rattled through her, male and obviously displeased. Pell squinted, trying to get a better look and see if perhaps Ray had returned. She caught sight of an individual she did not recognize, stubble on his chin and a badge attached to his breastfront pocket. Her eyes widened, a cold lump forming in her throat as she turned, dropping the grocery bag and breaking into a run.

The heavy thud of footfalls behind her encouraged her to speed up, jumping lithely over a section of collapsed cement while tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

They found us.

Pell-mell could hear heavy breathing behind her, perhaps the result of too many pastries and coffee with too little exercise. She did not slow in her mad sprint for freedom, listening to the radio's noises as it rebounded through the small pathway.

"How many?"

"Three, but there's a fourth on the run, Jameson's chasing her."

"Copy that."

s**t, s**t, s**t!

She broke out into the cool night air, feeling wild and dangerous despite the fact that she was the one being chased. The girl immediately dove into the throngs of early night-owls, trying to remember what the process of breathing entailed as she rushed through the ranks.

Stupid... stupid...

The unshed tears were blurring her vision, but she gave them a vicious wipe with the heel of her hand, bearing down the network of alleyways and wondering why all she could think of were stars and music on an intercom.