Young Writers Society

James nodded in agreement. "The only way we're going to find answers, since none of us seem to have them, is if we go searching for them. We're in a city, and if we can find something like a town hall, or a library, or some kind of public building where there might be general information - or like Saya said - maps, we could at least get an idea of where we are. We can start looking for something like that, and if we run into anything or anyone else along the way we can just take it as it comes."

He paused, looking to Jason, and the fishermen.

"That is, if you want to join us."

Us, being him and Saya, who - for reasons only related to them finding each other first - were apparently on the same page and grouped enough to be an us. And he was already referring to everyone else with the inclusive we.

Granted, those things were normal, in a group, but none of the people around him were their true selves, and that made each one of them suspect. If he was in some random body, they could be anyone for all he knew. And even if they weren't people he knew, they could be malicious and dangerous, and doing exactly what he was doing: acting. Faking. Pretending. Being unauthentic to whatever degree their conscience would allow.

"That sounds like a good plan," Stephanie agreed. She glanced at the others in the alleyway before slipping out into the city beyond; she would figure out what to do if they didn't end up following later.

But the moment she really saw the city, she stopped.

She had known that it wasn't her city. The alleyway was too pristine. Still, it was jarring to suddenly see towering skyscrapers instead of crowded apartment buildings. They were on the edge of a road, but the road wasn't anything like the roads she had ever seen. There wasn't a line in the center of it - it wasn't even made of asphalt. She doubted it was wide enough to hold more than one car at a time.

She looked up at the nearest skyscraper.

The best way to describe the city was that it was somehow futuristic. She let out another sigh. Time to add time travel to the list of weird things that had happened to her.

Queenie continued her silent act of mild confusion as she took all of the interactions in. There were quite a few people here, all of whom seemed to admit to being in the wrong bodies. Using the wrong names. She'd only stick out if she was an outlier from that.

Of course, she was in the body of her sister. She wouldn't even have to lie to make it believable that she'd take a minute to notice that the body she used wasn't hers.

She moved closer to the group and shifted her weight awkwardly from foot to foot.

"Um, have any of you been in situations like this before?" They had. They'd admitted it. But it was fun playing Briar as a ditz.

Lacey looked at the rest of the group, including its new members. Even though the dark-haired girl had dropped the subject, Lacey couldn't shake that she'd been recognized.

No, Anna had been recognized. Her great-grandmother, who hadn't looked this way since the 1930s and had been dead since 1991. Whoever's body she was in, who was this girl really?

Lacey took a deep breath and told herself to be patient. She was still getting used to being this tiny.

"I think," she said. "Exploring the city is a good idea. Maybe we can find a clothing store along the way." Lacey had intended the last part as a joke, but part of her was sincere. She didn't know how long she'd be able to walk in these heels.

She moved her hair over to one side of her shoulder, wishing she had a hair tie, ignoring the dark-haired girl's question for now.

As the rest of the group seemed to be making their way out of the alleyway into the strange street, Milo tried maneuvering himself to the edge of the group, where he felt more comfortable (his walking around with his hook had caused him to be between the new arrivals and the others, and thus right bang in the middle)

He was also really hoping they'd find a clothing store or a merchant or a dream-conjured clothing rail so he could get out of this fishy clothes, which also felt itchy (in the way an old, well-worn wool jacket would) Of course, that would require this game/simulation/dream initiation to actually want the group to have a change of clothes/gear.

Hey, if this is really a game, and you for some reason had your... Elliott's fish hook still with you, maybe one of the others' new bodies, if they are new bodies, also had something in their pockets before this whole thing.

That's your logic? That if this is a video game, everyone has something in their starter inventory? Based on a single fish hook?

The hook didn't come out of nowhere! It's not like some Lovecraftian being from another dimension decided to will that hook into existence without consulting his fellow interdimensional beings on whether it would make sense or not.

You're right. That does sound implausible...

I'm always right. Now just do it. You're already seen as the weird that smells like a fish.

Milo nodded slowly in agreement with his own brain, and decided to try and speak with one of the other people on the edge of the group.

"Hey, so...?" he started, "I was wondering--"

Why the pause?

I don't know how to ask someone to check their pockets without sounding weird.

Oh honey, anything you ask looking and smelling like a deep sea fisherman is gonna be weird. Might as well embrace it.

If you say so.

"I was wondering, and sorry if you don't get the reference, but what have you got in your pocketses?"

I didn't mean it literally!!!

Join us, Jacob had said. Us.

Kaya smiled at that, which would have been taken to the context of being glad that Jason and the rest of the group seemed to agree to join up, but really she was glad to feel so free to be someone that others wouldn't look down upon like she was piece of trash needing to be thrown away.

She had told so many doctors that if only she was prettier, and had the right connections, and had better clothes, then maybe she wouldn't be where she was today. But over and over again they would say she was wrong, she was just not right in the head, and she needed to be fixed.

This was proof that they were wrong.

Society is flawed and is the one that needs fixing, not her.

Kaya wasn't sure what to do with this blessing right now, but she'll play along. Jacob seemed to somewhat trust her, although she wasn't sure if she could trust him since he also seemed to play pretend at first, although perhaps this should be even more reason to be on his side. She didn't have an opinion on Jason yet, and she didn't know anyone else's names, but the old man seemed eccentric and the girl who looked like a doll from the 1940s seemed annoying, especially since she seemed like someone Saya would be friends with. There was another girl with tied-up dark hair, but based on the singular question she asked -- "have any of you been in situations like this before?" -- Kaya didn't know whether she was stupid, fake, or smart.

Suddenly the blonde girl mentioned clothes and the old man mentioned pockets. Kaya chose to ignore the dark-haired girl's question as well, pretending to be preoccupied with whatever was in her pocket.

She reached in her jean pockets and pulled out two slips of papers. One slip was a receipt for manicured nails, and she had to prevent herself from rolling her eyes because this was clearly and most infuriatingly Saya's. The other slip of paper was blank, but Kaya knew it shouldn't have been blank; she recognized the precise creases in the folds, the wrinkles from its age, and the slightly-aged color. It should be under her bed mattress, but for some reason, it was now in her pocket. Saya's pocket. A blank, old, folded paper that was once a file that had her name and medical history on it.

"I have papers in my pocket," Kaya said, unfazed. "Nothing interesting, but I don't remember putting it in my pocket."

A Hobbit reference was not something Queenie was expecting right at the moment, and, were she not well-practiced in dealing with surprises with a straight face, she might have laughed from the sheer shock of it.

The question itself, though? That would be harder to answer. She stuck her hand - Briar's hand - in the pockets of the plain black jeans and found...nothing. She didn't know what she expected. There seemed to be things hidden everywhere except Briar's pockets.

She gave a shrug. "Nothing."

James checked his pockets. He felt a key-ring, and hesitantly pulled it out. There were house keys, and car keys - the very fact that he could recognize the difference was a testament to how many times he'd been in the modern will (almost always against his will). He didn't know if that meant there was a home or a car waiting somewhere around the city for him, but he slipped the keys back in his pocket. He found a small cloth, similar to a handkerchief, and some old crumpled wrappers.

In his front jacket pocket, there was a pair of spectacles, or glasses. Those, he didn't put back right away.

He glanced at the others, then at the glasses. He didn't think this body would need glasses, but maybe his normal eyesight was really just that poor.

He slid them on his face and suppressed the awe that followed as everything around him became even more clear than it was before.

"Looks like I've got glasses," he said.

It seemed like everyone was checking their pockets, so Lacey did the same thing. At first, she thought there was nothing in them. Then she felt a small box and something else.

First was a silk handkerchief. It was embroidered with purple stitching and cursive initials at the bottom. "AMH"

Anna Marie Hughes. Her great-grandmother's maiden name, before she was briefly Anna Whitman and then Anna Bailey. She hadn't known about the handkerchief. She knew Anna had grown up in relative wealth for the times, but this must have been expensive.

Then, Lacey opened the box and a tune began to play. The instrumental she recognized immediately. It's Only A Paper Moon. The song was kind of a traditional lullaby in their family, and it had been for generations...

Anna's parents had sung it to her. Then she'd sung it to Jay. And Jay had played the Cliff Edwards version for her father. And then her father had sung it to to her, Ryan and Rachel....

Lacey began to sing along. "Yes, it's only a canvas sky, hanging over a muslin tree, but it wouldn't be make-believe if you believed in me..."

For a moment, she was in another world.

Following everyone else's lead, Stephanie stuck her hand into her pockets.

The first thing she found was a wallet. It wasn't especially thick; everyone in Crime Alley grew up knowing it was a terrible idea to keep a lot of cash on you. It was harder to commit credit card fraud than it was to use dollar bills stolen from someone else. But it was still thicker than she had expected a wallet belonging to a sixteen year old to be.

When she popped it open, she found herself looking at driver's license that she was pretty sure he shouldn't have had - especially seeing that the license said he was born two years earlier than he actually was. Even the name was off: Peter Parker. It took Stephanie a second to get a joke, but then she couldn't help but smile at what was surely an accident.

She put the wallet back in her pocket.

In the other pocket, she found a folded piece of paper. It was his number from the karaoke night activity. She was surprised by how neatly he had put it back in his pocket; Jason had always been the type to shove papers places. He claimed he didn't have the time to be careful with them.

She didn't have anything else in her pockets, but she did feel like there was something hidden underneath her jacket. When she parted the jacket aside, the smile dancing across her lips faded.

There was a gun.

A presumably loaded gun.

Jason Peter Todd, she thought, frowning, what happened to you?

If he had actually been here right now, she would have scolded him. What happened to their childhood no gun rule? He had always said he would never use them and never buy them - they both thought they were too dangerous. But here she was, standing here as him with a gun hidden away underneath a leather jacket.

She looked back up at the others.

"I don't have anything useful," she said. Anna's song finally registered. Stephanie stared at her - and the music box - for a moment, her mind flashing back to the last time she had heard someone sing it. It had been a long time ago. They had been at Charlie's house. Jack was hamming it up like he always did, and...

Stephanie pushed the thought away.

The whirring sound was still in the background of the city; she couldn't shake the feeling that it had somehow gotten louder. Eyes scanning the street once more, she tried to find the source.

Her breath caught in her throat when she finally did.

There was a person exiting what looked like a shop just a few buildings down the street. Stephanie's first thought was to go over and talk to her, but then Stephanie saw how wrong she looked. How dead and glazed the woman's eyes looked. How her skin sagged in some places and was nonexistent in others, revealing gray metal. How her hair had lost its shine long ago and how her clothes were frayed at the ends. And how mechanical she moved, one step right after the other.

Whatever she was - robot, something else - she wasn't human in the slightest.

And she was coming right towards them.

Stephanie had no way of seeing it herself, but the greens of her eyes started to glow bright green as she stared at the woman.

What everyone was finding in their pockets didn't seem to be useful, at least, to everyone else. He let his attention follow Jason's gaze, and he saw the woman staggering out of the building with an unnaturally stiff gait. She didn't quite look... alive.

His desire for answers said to go up and see if she was at all coherent, if she knew where they were. But a gut feeling told him they should stay out of the way.

He looked to the others and stretched out an arm in front of Saya, who was closest beside him.

"We... we should find a place more hidden," he said, lowering his voice. "Let's keep it quiet."

The stuff they found in their pockets were so mundane and boring.

Papers. Glasses. An annoying music box that proceeded with even more annoying singing. Kaya fidgeted and tensed her fingers, digging them into her palms to stop her from rolling her eyes and screaming at this blonde girl to shut up. She knew that Kaya would do that, but Saya would not. So instead she put on an intrigued look, thinking of ways to not kill her.

Trying to drown out the noise, Kaya heard other noise that sounded like whirring machinery. She heard the faintest sound of it in the park, but it seemed louder now. And then... she saw it.

The lifeless machine.

Kaya didn't know what it was, but she knew it wasn't human. The way it moved seemed programmed and uncanny, and it looked abandoned and dead, like an old thrown-away Barbie doll with a body that hadn't yet fully decomposed.

Jacob seemed to be the first to react to this and quietly said they should move, and Kaya immediately nodded her head in agreement. Something about that creature made her skin crawl, and she didn't want to be around to figure out why.

"Let's go down the alley," she said quietly, still staring at the thing. They were standing right at the end of the same alley the others came from, and it seemed dangerous to walk out to a different street and possibly cross paths with it.

Lacey stayed closer to the rest of the group. The robot, or whatever it was, seemed scary and it wasn't like the music box or the handkerchief were going to help matters.

"I agree on going down an alleyway," said Lacey. "But how we do know it's dangerous?"

Right now, best to avoid it out of an abundance of caution. And still, she didn't want the group to jump to conclusions.

Anna had made a good point, but Stephanie was already running through the pros and cons of remaining where they were in her head as she asked the question. There really was no way to tell that they were dealing with something dangerous - but Stephanie also wasn't ready to take the risk.

"From my experience," Stephanie said, her voice soft and eyes still glowing, "it's best to avoid whatever can potentially hurt you. We don't know she wants to hurt us, but we also don't know anything about where we are right now."

If she was back in her city, this situation would have practically taken care of itself. She knew that if she avoided the threat for long enough, someone would come along to take care of it. There was always someone patrolling around her part of town these days, even though there had barely been anyone there growing up.

But they weren't in her city. Any ideas that she had on how to solve this - reaching out to them, waiting for the potential threat to be taken care of, getting desperate and talking to her father's friends - were absolutely useless right now.

"I also agree on going back into the alleyway," Stephanie added. She could feel her gun pressing up against her side right now underneath her jacket. It was a last resort that she didn't want to use unless she absolutely had to; she hated that she knew how to use it in the first place.

Queenie's eyes - Briar's eyes? - followed the stranger, tracking her unnatural movements. She looked like, moved like, one of the prototypes from father's labs. Of course, the programming in that thing wasn't likely to have any stipulations against the harming of humans, and most everyone here looked pretty damn human to Queenie.

Stupid, but human.

While they debated whether or not to get out of the direct line of sight of a potential danger, Queenie turned on her heel and walked casually back to the alley. Whatever was in that syringe, it probably wouldn't work on electronics. Though...

Queenie reached up and felt her hair - how the h*ll does she keep it so smooth? - it was tied up in twin bunches at the back of her skull. Briar's hair was thick and silky, glossy black that Queenie would envy if it weren't for the fact that hair like this would be impossible to do anything with, and even heavier if she grew it out more than Briar already did.

Queenie tightened one of the pigtails to make it look like she had a reason to be messing with her hair and...bingo.

Briar was always pulling knives out of nowhere. It had taken Queenie forever to realize that her hair was one of the hiding places.

She palmed this one and casually lowered her hands, slipping it into the empty sheath built into her sleeve. Briar really had to use those things more often. Sure, if she got searched it'd be pretty easy to find, but the solution there was simply to no get searched.