(Untitled)
Katya Tank is her real name. It just isn't the name her mother gave her. Nor is it the name the laws will pull up from the DNA scan on the fourth and fifth fingers she left on site at a job just a few months ago. She doesn't use that name any more, and doesn't associate it with herself
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A small boy that had been sitting the shadows of a nearby dumpster jumps violently as she drops down nearby, scrambling to his feet in evident panic and peering at her through thick glasses. Tattered sneakers shift on the ground as if he'd prefer to be runnin' about now, thanks.
"Wh-where the rut'd you come from?"
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Following her at a careful distance and out of sight, he makes no effort to overtake her. Can't let her fall, after all. Could be messy.
The sound of the flyway grows louder.
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But she also can't run hard for very long. So she slows down when she comes near the flyway, glancing over her sholder to make sure there aren't any more of those creepy kids around.
Breathing hard but focusing on kee[piong it regular, she crouches at the edge of the roof, waiting for a car to fly near enough that she can drop onto the roof.
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Harth's watching, but quietly. He doesn't need to follow her now she's close.
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In the harsh light of the flyway, she realiss she was being silly. Those kids that looked alike, they skitzed her, that's all. A stupid thing to be scared of.
But she has the statue she was avter, she's not being trailed by the laws, and she's heading home.
It's all OK.
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Harth smiles in the direction her cab had taken off, headlights reflecting brightly off his glasses. The Princess ain't got bad instincts, all told. Comes across as jittery, but who's countin'?
You know, apart from Harth.
The young vampire drops backwards and out of sight. He'll see her again.
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