I wake up alarmingly early the following morning. All I hear are a couple of far off shouts and one booming voice that echoes throughout the Tunnels. “Looks like Grand got up early today,” I grumble, speaking aloud to myself as I often did, “What a pleasant surprise.” I almost laugh at just how funny that was; Grand being pleasant in any way. What a joke.

I hear his thunderous voice over all the others that seem to be bickering amongst themselves and then they all quiet down, allowing Grand to speak. They sound closer than usual. I’d say about 100 feet or so. Normally I can’t hear Grand and his gang, which is partly why I chose this spot as my home, but they are certainly near now. A little bit too near for me to be comfortable. “Now just what does Grand think he’s doing over here?” I ask either myself or the shadows. Grand gives out one exceptionally loud shout and the others shout at once after him. “For the love, we’re not starting a revolution here! Or at least, we better not be.”

Grand continues shouting, but I notice a crescendo in his voice, which means one of two things; he’s taken an interest in music and the theatrical arts or he’s getting closer. I lean toward the latter option as the more reasonable of the two. That makes me quite wary. The last thing I want is for somebody to find my secret home, especially Grand of all people. If you can even call him a person.

He proceeds to get closer and closer and I tip-toe to the entrance, hiding in the shadows and preparing to eavesdrop. His voice is very close, sounding as if he were right on the other side of the wall, which I certainly hope he’s not. Then his voice stops abruptly and I grow slightly nervous. But I’m saved by a familiar voice.

“Grand, what made you decide to bless me with your presence this morning?” Hearth says, sarcasm dripping off her words like melted ice cream. I cover my mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Save your sarcasm for someone who cares, Hearth,” Grand replies, “Where is he?”

“Where is who?”

‘Oh, please don’t let it be me. I don’t want to deal with Grand this early.’

“You know who,” he growls.

“Do I?” Hearth asks with fake innocence.

“Rat, Hearth! Where is Rat? Tell me now or prepare to face my gang,” Grand threatens. Boy, he’s just got oodles of patience.

“’Fraid I don’t know, Grand,” Hearth says, “And might I add that you are in my territory without permission, so you are in no position to threaten me.”

“What territory?” Grand asks.

“The territory we set up with the boundary lines,” she says.

“There are no boundary lines in the Tunnels!” Grand declares.

“Ary?”

“Well, actually, there are boundary lines. We set them up April 24, 2076. We made them official April 26, 2076 and therefore they applied to all gangs in the Tunnels,” Ary states as plainly as the food we eat.

“What a load of crap! We never agreed to that!” Grand insists.

“In fact you did, sir, at the same time as all the others,” Ary continues. ‘Maybe if you didn’t go to the meetings drunk, you’d know things.’

“Who says I have to care?” Grand then asks, as snarky as possible. I can’t see him, but I just know he jerked his big head forward to challenge Ary.

“I do,” Hearth says and I guess that she stepped in front of the teenager.

“Oh really?” he says, trying to be intimidating.

“Yes.” Hearth is much more intimidating. A silence follows Hearth’s last word and it’s clearly a baffled one on Grand’s part. If he has a brain, I bet he’s racking it for a response to that. But that’s the thing. He doesn’t. ‘What an idiot,’ I think, ‘He can’t fight Hearth. He’d never win.’

“Well, fine then. I guess me and my men will just leave,” he huffs, talking as if that isn’t what Hearth and probably anybody else in the Tunnels wants. I hear the shuffle of their clothes and boots as they depart, leaving Hearth, Ary, and I in peace.

“Thank God,” I whisper, sinking onto the floor. After the coast is clear, I exit my room and flee to the Surface to steal some breakfast, but what I find is far more interesting than a piece of burnt toast.

As I walk past countless grey, broken, and overall down trod buildings, almost all of them out of business, I hear a low roar in the distance. I hurry forward to investigate. There’s a crowd of people standing in a circle in front of the only open hotel in the city, shouting out questions to someone. As I approach them, my curiosity surfaces and I join the crowd, trying to see over people’s heads.

“Mr. Barry, what brings you here to Maw?” somebody asks.

“I had heard about some, oh, how to put it, troublesome gangs here and decided to lend my talents,” a man says smoothly. ‘Boy, does he sound like government,’ I think. I catch a glimpse of him as I push myself up on the shelf of my feet. He’s a rather tall man with neat blonde hair and a nice black suit and glasses combo. He’s surprisingly young looking and carries a brief case with him. ‘Yup, government.’

“Oh, Mr. Barry, just what do you plan to do about the gangs?” another asks.

“I’m going to bring them to justice of course,” he says in a rich, convincing voice.

“How will you do it?” somebody shouts from the outskirts of the crowd.

“By any means necessary,” he says and just as he does, he looks directly at me, making sustained eye contact. His ice blue irises burn into my grey eyes. I feel threatened and like I ought to give fair warning to the Tunnels, so I run.

I sprint to Hearth’s grate to tell her first. Ary’s at the grate again and he lets me in without question.

“Where’s Hearth?” I ask quickly.

“She’s in the left wing, I believe. Something wrong, Rat?” he replies, picking up on my urgency immediately.

I take off running toward the left wing, yelling, “Government,” behind me. Normally, that’s all the explanation one needs. I pass several members of Hearth’s fire gang before I finally reach the left wing where I find her sitting in a chair talking to Croc, the leader of the Earth gang, who sits opposite her. Croc’s a somewhat odd man. He always sits in chairs sideways with his legs crossed and dangling off the sides. He tucks his arms behind his head and usually closes his eyes, only opening them for things that are of more importance than normal. His dark brown hair is cut short and his cheeks are sunken in. He wears are light brown cape that’s very tattered and worn. His loose brown pants that are tucked into his dirt encrusted boots make a swishing sound with every stride. His skin tight black, sleeveless shirt covers most of his neck but shows his muscly arms. To top off his whole, classic Tunnels outfit, he wears large black gloves on his hands. Often times he has an array of knives and daggers strapped to his belt, but not today.

“Rat, I’m talking to Croc. Hold on a minute,” Hearth says, rising from her chair.

“No, Hearth, this can’t wait,” I tell her, “You listen up too, Croc. I’ve got bad news. Some guy from the government showed up on the Surface today.” Hearth’s jaw drops and her eyes widen dramatically.
“You can’t be serious!” Croc opens his eyes and I know this is worse than I thought.

“I assure you, Croc, I’m as serious as a rat can be on this one,” I tell him, placing my hand over where my heart should be.

“How do you know? Did he have a suit?” Hearth asks. Her questions feel like a drill.

“Indeed he did. He also had a brief case and glasses,” I say.

“We’re sunk,” Hearth says, putting her hand on her forehead as if she has a fever.

“He looked like a good threat. He might be able to pin the public against us,” I say, thinking aloud.

“If that happens we’re doomed. The only reason we can live here at all is because the public fears us,” Hearth replies. All goes silent for what seems like forever, but eventually Hearth speaks up. “We need to call a meeting of the gangs.”

“Right, who all would come?” Croc asks.

“Everybody.”

“Even those heartless Ghosts?” he hisses.

“Even them. This involves all of the Tunnels and therefore all of the gangs. And you too, Rat. You were the one who saw him. We’ll need you there,” she says.

“Oh, I think I’m busy that day,” I say, taking a subtle step backward. ‘As fun as this meeting sounds, I think I’ll wiggle my way out of it.’

“We haven’t set up a day yet.”

“You don’t want me there anyway, really. I’d just get in the way. You know, be under foot, just like rats are,” I’m trying desperately to sound convincing.

“You’re coming to this meeting and because you tried to get out of it, you get to go tell the other gangs,” Hearth says.

“No thanks. I like my head where it is, thank you very much.”

“Then you don’t have much of a choice. Rat, go tell them,” she demands.

“No, Hearth, I’m not going to tell them,” I say, nearly shouting. She informs me politely that I am.

“I’d listen to her, Rat. She might accidentally swing her knife at your neck,” Croc says, grinning at me.

“Yeah, well, I’d rather lose my head to her than Grand,” I tell him.

Croc lets out a short laugh. “Don’t blame you on that one.”

“Enough talking. Rat, go,” Hearth says.

“Why don’t you have someone else do it? Why do I have to?” I complain.

“Because I told you to and because I’ll stew you if you don’t,” she says, raising her eyebrows briefly.

“Rat stew, my favorite,” Croc says, jokingly rubbing his stomach.

“Fine!” I say as I storm off to go inform the other gangs of the meeting. Hearth shouts after me, telling me what the time of the meeting is. I can almost hear the smile on her face. I take a sharp left, heading toward the Lightning gang first. I fly past Static, one of the Lightning gang’s grate keepers. He turns in alarm.

“Whoa, Rat! Where you headed in such a hurry?” he calls after me.

I’m mad and pouting like a three year old so I don’t feel like answering him. I just keep speeding on by everybody and turning corner upon endless corner before I finally get to the heart of their territory where I find their leader, Spark. He isn’t a very tall man, but he isn’t short either. He has dirty blonde hair, possibly literally, and is said to be the fastest man in the Tunnels. He wears a tight yellow shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A black X is prominent on his chest which corresponds to his two thin swords that are strapped to his back. His black pants billow out when they meet his boots, making him look bigger than he is. He looks at me curiously.

“Hearth and Croc are issuing a meeting of the gangs tomorrow at dusk,” I tell him, composing myself enough to speak clearly.

“What for?” he asks.

“We have to discuss an upcoming issue,” I say, not wanting to get him all fired up by telling him about this government guy.

“Alright, tell them I’ll be there,” he says.

Then I take off running again toward the Ghost gang. Nobody really likes the Ghost gang because they never do anything. They always just sit there and watch everything unfold like a piece of paper, but whenever they’re attacked which doesn’t happen very often, the attackers never come back. ‘Let’s see if I come back.’

As soon as I arrive in their territory, I feel a chill crawl down my neck and spine. “Intruder! The rat is intruding,” says a voice from somewhere in the darkness. It’s impossible to tell where it came from because it sounds like three different voices talking at once and almost hissing.

“I’m no intruder,” I say, raising my voice to make sure they hear me, “I’m only here to pass on a message from the Fire and Earth gangs.”

“The rat has a message, the rat has a message,” they, or it hisses.

“There is going to be a meeting of the gangs tomorrow at dusk. You are expected to be there,” I say before muttering under my breath, “If you’re even here right now.”

“A meeting of the gangs says the rat, a meeting of the gangs. The memory will be there,” it says, referring to its leader. At that I just turn and leave, running back through the Lightning territory, heading for the Water territory. “God they’re creepy,” I say to myself, “How is that even possible?” I shake my head and keep running until I nearly run into a rather tall and muscular man.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks in a very low voice.

“Watt, how nice to see you,” I say, backing up slightly.


“You just came from the Ghost gang, didn’t you?” he says, looking past me.

“Indeed I did, but that’s really none of your business, so I’ll be on my way.” I try to squeeze past him only to be pushed back.

“Tell me why, Rat,” he demands.

“I’m just going around telling everybody about the meeting tomorrow, don’t panic,” I assure him.

“Those ghosts are no good, Rat,” he says, almost sounding like he’s grunting.

“Yes, I am fully aware of that,” I say, trying to squeeze by again, but instead he simply pushes me into the wall with his shoulder and refuses to let me move. ‘Blast these narrow tunnels.’

“Tell me why you were really over there,” he booms.

“Do you have ears? Watt, I told you, I’m telling everybody about the meeting,” I choke out.

“What meeting?” he asks.

“The meeting of the gangs,” I answer, “Hearth and Croc issued it.”

He eases up the pressure on me, saying, “Run along then.” And that I do.

“Brainless oaf,” I mumble as I run. Of course, I made sure I was out of ear shot. I’d rather not have Watt angry at me. He’s a bit too muscular for that.

Soon I enter the reaches of the Water gang. I’ve always liked their territory, because somehow, they manage to tint the walls blue. It’s nice to look at since all the rest of us look at a dirty beige and grey city all day and dark, lonesome tunnels all night. There’s a reason that the Water Gang has the lowest insanity percentage. These Tunnels aren’t too healthy for the mind.

I pass a large group of people, having to squeeze by them. A few of them look at me, but make no effort to stop me. After all, I am nothing more than a rat.

I walk all over the Water territory in search of their leader, Well. He’s a good man, very kind-hearted. Makes you wonder what the heck he’s doing down here. I’ve heard a rumor that he used to have a nice family, but they were killed by Grand and his toadies. So, Well decided to form a rival gang and oppose Grand in everything he does. ‘Good for him,’ I think.

At long last, I decide that I’m not going to find him. I walk further, grudgingly deciding that I’d have to ask somebody. I hate talking to people. ‘Sure seem to do it a lot though.’ I soon find a young man with light brown hair leaning up against the wall.

“Where’s Well?” I ask as I approached him.

“I think he’s up on the Surface today,” he tells me.

‘Great,’ I thought, ‘I actually wouldn’t have minded talking to Well.’ “Well, that’s great.”

“Who are you talking to?” he asks, looking to his right and then back at me. He’s very clearly confused about something.

“You,” I reply, not understanding what was so hard to grasp.

“I’m not Well,” he says.

“I didn’t ask about how you were feeling,” I say, starting to get confused myself.

“I know you didn’t,” he says.

“Well, why did you say that then?” I asked.

“Because I’m not Well!” he says, half laughing, half angry.

“I’m sorry that you aren’t well,” I say. ‘God, are we even speaking the same language here?’

“Yeah, me too, he’s a great man,” he replied. ‘He?’ I thought. Then it hit me that I had been saying ‘well’ this entire time and he thought I was referring to Well. ‘That actually makes sense.’

“You guys don’t say well that much do you?” I ask.

“What do you mean? Of course we say Well. He’s our leader, so we should call him by name,” he says.

“That answers my question,” I told him, “Well, wait, scratch that, when Well gets here, tell him that there is a meeting of the gangs tomorrow at dusk, okay?”

“I will,” he says.

“Thank you,” I say, turning on my heel, “Well, see you around.”

“I told you, I’m not Well!”

“Shut up! I know you’re not Well!” I yell back at him. Then I take off again toward the Air gang.

Once I get there, I jog straight to their leader’s ‘room’. The Air gang has a pretty organized system in the way of housing. They’ve built individual rooms for each of their members and, of course, their leader, Gust, has the biggest room. I figure that they had to build rooms for everybody because all of them are too aggressive to share.

As I approach the ‘throne room’ I’ll call it, I discover that getting to talk to Gust will be harder than I expected, for there at the door stand my favorite trouble-makers.


“Ew, it’s a rat,” Sirocco says playfully, brushing some of his blonde hair out of his eyes.

“I’ll go get the poison,” Zephyr says, referring to the Poison gang. He’s the taller of the two and has greyish blonde hair.

“You guys want them here just as little as I do,” I say.

“I don’t know, if you’re here, maybe we could start a war. What do you think, Zephyr?”

“Oh, that’d be such fun! War, what a marvelous word!” Zephyr replies.

“Yes, yes, I’m well aware that war is all the Air gang is interested in, so no need to tell me again,” I say, hurriedly.

“Hey, now, that wasn’t very nice,” Sirocco says.

“Do you expect me to be nice?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Fair enough,” Zephyr says, “Now, what brings you here today, Rat?” I tell them I need to talk to Gust.

“Oh, do you?” they ask in unison. I say yes.

“Well, what if I said that’s not going to happen?” Zephyr says.

“Then I’d punch your nose and go in,” I say.

“Oh ho! Look at that, Rat’s resorting to violence!” Sirocco says.

“Better watch it, Rat. I could tie you into a knot if I wanted to,” Zephyr says.

“You think so? I sure don’t,” I tell him.

“Is that right?” he says, pulling his arm back and clenching his fist. He tries to punch me, but I dodge his attack easily. After punching his nose as promised, I slip on past him and Sirocco is too shocked to do anything to stop me, so I burst Gust’s room.

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking? And what happened to Zephyr and Sirocco?” the brown haired man before me asks.

“There’s a meeting of the gangs tomorrow at dusk. I’d suggest being there,” I say.

“Well, doesn’t that just sound like loads of fun,” he says as I leave. I walk on past Zephyr and Sirocco. Zephyr curses after me, but I’m just happy to be getting out of there. The Air gang is not my favorite.

Once again, I continue walking and soon arrive at the Ice gang’s territory. I find their leader, Spear, talking to a man who’s a lot shorter than him, but that doesn’t take much. Spear’s quite tall. He’s a very stern looking man with his snow white hair which is all too appropriate and his piercing light grey eyes. One of the most intimidating men in the Tunnels, I’d say.

I approach him and he looks at me in an almost frustrated way. “What is it, Rat?”

“There is a meeting of the gangs tomorrow at dusk. Your presence is requested.”

“Alright, you can expect to see me there. Who issued this meeting?” he says.

“Hearth and Croc,” I answer.

Spear simply nods his head and returns his attention to the man he was previously talking to. I take that as a dismissal of sorts and continue walking down the tunnel and turn left, thinking to myself, ‘I may not like Spear that much, some of his decisions are…cruel, but he certainly is a man that I respect.’ I take another left turn and head to the last of the gangs. ‘Oh, joy, the Poison gang. This’ll be interesting. I’ll have to be careful not to start World War IV.’

After a few more turns and straights that I may have dragged out a bit unintentionally, I reach the Poison gang’s territory. The stench of their people and “habits” immediately penetrates my nostrils. I pass several people, each and every one of them giving me a dirty look or whispering something to somebody else. I can’t help but assume I’m the subject of the whispering. I don’t look at any of them, though. It’s not like I want to see that ugly bunch. I turn sharply and come face to face with Grand.

I look up at him, for he’s taller than me. He has tanned skin and black hair, but you could only tell because of his eyebrows and mustache which, by the way, is the only truly impressive thing about the man. The rest of his head’s completely bald. He frowns down at me, clearly trying to be intimidating.

“What’s a rat doing in here?” he says, almost snarling.

“I’m here to tell you that there is a meeting of the gangs tomorrow at dusk,” I reply, staying calm and not getting angry just yet.

“You’ve been causing trouble, Rat,” he says, spitting some on my name.

I wipe my forehead free of his saliva slowly and disgustedly. “Yes, I’m sure, and as to not cause more, I’ll be going now,” I say, turning to walk away.

“You’re not going anywhere, Rat,” he says from behind me.

“Oh, I really think I am,” I say, but just then several men step in front of me and I just know Grand’s right behind me. ‘Oh, this is bad.’

“Heard that you weren’t all that nice to Green,” Grand says, his eyes burning into my skull.

‘What a little tattle-tale,’ I think. “About that,” I say, scratching my cheek where I have a long vertical scar.

“You know what happens to people who disrespect my men,” he continues. I turn around just in time to see his rather enormous fist flying toward me. I lean to the right and dodge it, all the while trying to think up a plan on how the heck I’m going to get out of here without fighting back and thus starting World War IV.

“I’m not going to fight you, Grand,” I declare, although I know I might have to.

“Well, I’m going to fight you,” he says, throwing another punch. I evade his blow easily and look for an opening in the tunnel that I could slip through, but there’s not enough space for me. I’ll have to fight. As Grand attacks for the third time, I dodge it by stepping back, being sure not to step into the goons behind me. In response, I jam my elbow into his chest with force I rarely see out of myself. He’s caught off guard by the attack and I take the opportunity to slash his face with the key that hangs around my neck. Blood spurts from the long diagonal cut and his hands immediately grasp his face. Slipping past him like snake, I make my escape.

“Let’s kill him!” My head falls against the round, stone table. “Lord, help me,” I whimper.

“We can’t kill him! Are you mad?”

“Then what do you propose we do?”

‘Such a heated argument,’ I think, rubbing my temples, ‘And all over one man.’

I look around the leaders’ table. There’s Hearth, standing out of her chair, with her hands placed firmly on the table. She has her auburn hair tied back in a ponytail today. I assume she knew that there would be quite a bit of work to be done. Then to Hearth’s right, I see Croc, calmly sitting in his chair with one foot on the table that’s pushing him back so that the chair’s resting on its hind legs. His light brown and very tattered cape covers the majority of the chair, but not his face. He very rarely puts his hood up and when he does, you can be sure that nothing good is going on. Sitting next to Croc is Well. He sits on the edge of his chair, resting his elbows on the table with his fingers laced together, supporting his head. He’s not planning on getting overly involved in this debate, but he’s not planning on sitting out either, that I can tell. He scratches his head, ruffling his brown hair while he opens his mouth to say something that’s never heard over the others. Spark stands next to Well, waving his arms about, trying to get his point across I suppose. His face is slightly reddened from all the yelling he’s done. Directly across from me sits Memory, the incredibly creepy leader of the Ghost gang. He sits up straight in his chair with a large black cape covering almost all of his body and face. I can only tell that he’s pale and is somehow enjoying this because he has a slight smile on his face. Spear sits to the right of him, acting as the voice of reason. I’d say he is the wisest of the leaders, possibly because he’s the oldest. Today his eyes are especially stern and seemingly very impatient. Then to the right of him is the glorious, or I suppose, grand, Grand. He’s got a bandage over one eye and a still bloody cut across his face. Gust sits next to Grand, swishing his light brown hair back every so often and offering snide and rude remarks all around. ‘He’s just trying to pick a fight’ I think. Then sitting in between Hearth and Gust is me. I feel quite unwanted even though I was requested to attend this meeting. While all the others bicker amongst themselves, I just sit there, feeling awkward. I just knew this meeting would be loads of fun.

“He’s going to ruin us!” Spark yells out.

“Not if we kill him, he won’t,” Gust says.

“We’re not going to kill him, Gust!” Hearth shouts.

“Hearth is right. If we killed him, the people would rightfully assume it was us and attack,” Spear adds.

“What’s the problem with that?” Gust asks.

“You’re sick!” Hearth declares.

“What, Hearth? It’s just a little war. Surely you of all people would love to see some fire,” Gust says.

Hearth leans forward to hit him, but Well calms things down before she can. “Alright, alright, let’s be decent now. If we fail to reach a decision on this then the Tunnels are doomed.”

“Well is right,” Croc said, speaking for the first time at this meeting, “Let’s figure out what we can do and then we will weigh the consequences for each option.”

“I propose we wait it out and see if he is actually a threat and if so, fight him off by overwhelming him with our combined power,” Hearth says, pulling her chair closer to the table and sitting down in it. The others who are standing follow her actions as well.

“Alright, that’s one way,” Croc says.

“I propose we kill him,” Gust says.

“That’s another option,” he says, “Anybody else?”

“We could just leave him be and watch what happens,” Well says, “I’m not in favor of that, but it is an option.”

“What kind of option is that!?” Spark exclaims.

“No, he’s right. That is an option. You may not like it, but others might,” Croc says. Spark pouts like a little girl. “Shocking,” Croc laughs.

“You’re funny, Croc,” Spark says rather venomously.

“In any case, we seem to have two realistic options. Wait it out and exterminate if needed, or kill him now,” Croc explains.

“If we wait it out, it’ll be too late and the Tunnels will collapse,” Gust says, almost maturely.

“But if we kill him now, it will enrage the public and pit them against us,” Hearth says, resting her head on her fist, “We can’t fight the public.”

“And why not?” Grand asks.

“Because there’s children up there! Those people are innocent! We can’t kill them, it’s not right!” Hearth says, appalled that anybody would ask such a thing.

“They ain’t innocent if they’re fighting us,” Grand counters.

Hearth contains her anger which must be boiling over by now and sighs. “Shall we put it to a vote?” she suggests. Several of the leaders nod yes or said something quietly to signal approval. “Alright, those in favor of waiting it out?” Hearth raises her hand along with Well, Spark, and Croc. Half. “Those in favor of killing him now?” Grand, Memory, Spear, and Gust raise their hands. Half. Before I even have time to think, all the heads that aren’t mine turn to look at me.

“Can I help you?” I ask with somewhat of an attitude.

“Ha, sure can. It’s a dead tie, Rat,” Croc says, laughing a little. ‘Surely they don’t expect me to vote, too?’ I think, ‘They can’t. I’m just a rat.’

“And you’re the only one who hasn’t voted,” Grand spits. ‘I thought wrong.’
“Listen, Rat. You’re the only one who saw him, so we need your input as well. You have the exact same right to vote as we do,” Hearth says to me.

“Yeah… but.”

“No buts! Just do it,” she snaps. “Are you in favor of killing him or waiting it out?”

Suddenly I feel like I really am a rat and all the others are looming over me as if I’d just chewed my way through their wall. ‘This is not good,’ I think, ‘If we kill him, the Tunnels will be safe for sure from him…but there’s the public and how can I just let a man die? Even if he is our enemy, I can’t bring myself to kill him. I’m no soldier.’ I sigh deeply. ‘Here goes nothing.’ “I’m in favor of…waiting it out.”

Grand immediately throws his hands upon the table, creating a huge thud. “This is ridiculous!” he booms, “The Tunnels are doomed!”

“Even if they are doomed, this is the decision we’ve reached,” Spear says with his arms folded across his chest and his eyes closed tightly as if he could block out Grand’s presence just by not looking at him.

“These Tunnels are going to fall,” he declares, “They will crumble into nothingness with all of you idiots in tow, whether it’s by the government’s hands or mine.” Then he storms out of the room and starts barking orders. ‘That went well,’ I think.

Hearth sighs and leans back in her chair. “Grand can be so difficult,” she says.

Croc laughs, saying, “Difficult is an understatement.”

Hearth adjourns the meeting and all of us go our separate ways with our minds clouded with worry and anger.

I rub the back of my head and sigh as I walked around the city. This whole government thing really bothers me. We’ve had people like him come here before, but this guy’s different. He looked right at me like he knew me. ‘What if he does know me?’ I think. I shake my head and dismiss the thought. ‘There’s no way.’ But still, there’s Grand in the mix now too. He may just be big enough, loud enough, and stupid enough to make a difference here. ‘This’ll get real bad real fast.’

I stop in front of an abandoned library. Vines are starting to grow over it like a present wrapped in ribbon and a bow. The windows are shattered and the walls cracked. I almost feel bad for it, but I don’t. Instead, I snort and say, “Shows how much people like…whatever it is they keep in libraries.” I turn my head to the left and then to the right, making sure I’m not being seen and continue on my stroll.

I pass the old bar, the movie theatre, the museum. All of them are being eaten alive by vines. But I guess that’s what happens on this side of the city. Nobody cares about it, so nobody does anything with it and it gets devoured. I like the buildings though. They remind me of somebody, but I can’t ever decide who. They’re old, damaged, and worn, but still alive. They still work.

Out of curiosity and boredom, I creep past the slightly ajar door to the museum and explore the interior. There’s a large circular desk in the middle of a very large room with an extremely high ceiling. Several banners are hung from the ceiling with different pictures on them. One of them has a skeleton of some animal I’ve never seen before. It has a really big head, with long, powerful looking teeth, and short arms. I laugh a little at how ridiculous it looks. The banners have some symbols on them, but I don’t know what they mean, so I disregard them and head into a hall full of animals.

They are all so still, I think they must be paralyzed or something. Hundreds of animals stand like statues behind a wall of glass. I tap on it, trying to get a large cat like thing to move. It doesn’t even blink. It just bares its teeth at me like it was before. “Why don’t you move?” I ask it. “You’re an animal. You’re supposed to move.” I don’t get a response to that either. Frustrated, I walk away from the big cat and stand in front of a very tall, dark brown animal, with really big horns protruding from its forehead. They don’t really look like horns though; they aren’t sharp. Instead, they’re rounded and curved in a shape that’s almost like a bowl. “How do you move with those things on your head? Isn’t it heavy?” I ask. Nothing. “Hey!” I hit my fist on the glass repeatedly, but still, not one of the animals stir. ‘They must be very well trained,’ I think.

I walk on, into a circular room with a whole grassy desert area in it. There are several animals behind a curved wall of glass. One of them looks like a horse, but it has a bunch of black and white stripes on it. Another looks like a really big cat, except it has long, darker hair around its neck. A third’s rather ugly looking with its dirty tan fur. It stands on its back legs and wasn’t very tall. I guess that it wouldn’t even reach to my knee. There’s a very tall animal with a ridiculously long neck. It’s skinny and has light, spotted fur. I don’t really know what to make of that one, but as I crane my neck to look at its head, I saw that this wall of glass doesn’t reach the ceiling. There’s at least three feet between them, so I climbed up, helped by a slanted stool with loads of words and pictures of it. I drop to my feet and I’m inside the desert. It’s different than I expected it to be though. It doesn’t feel any different from a city. It’s not any warmer and it smells exactly the same. “Aren’t you guys kind of cramped here? There’s so much space, why don’t you spread out?” I ask. None of them reply. “Hey, look,” I say, walking further into the desert, “there’s all of this space for- ow!” My head crashes against something hard, but there’s nothing in front of me. Puzzled, I turn around to the animals. “What was that?” You could’ve heard a pin drop in that desert. A smile creeps onto my face. “I see what you’re doing. You’re playing tricks on me. Think you can fool a rat, eh?” I turn back around to the rest of the desert and reach my hands out for the animal I’d run into. But it doesn’t feel like an animal. It feels cold and rough. I move my hands around and notice that it’s constant from one end of the glass wall to the other. “Wait a second,” I say, “this isn’t a desert at all. This is a wall. It’s painted, isn’t it?” The animals give me the silent treatment again. “Fine! If you’re going to be rude, I’ll just leave.” Then I realize that there isn’t a stool for me to use on this side of the glass. I climb on top of the animal with the long neck and leap across the top of the glass. I land on my feet, but stumble forward a few steps when I do. “Ha! Bet you didn’t think I could do that, eh, Long-neck?” The thing just rocks slightly. At least it moved though.

“What was that?” a hushed voice says from another room. I run into the room right next to the one with the fake desert and clamber over the glass. I land in a fake prairie with four horses. I climb on top of one and freeze, hoping whoever it is that heard me isn’t going to come this way and if he does, he believes that I’m supposed to be in here. Luckily, there’s another rider. He’s dressed like he’s from the 1800s. What a weird man.

“You go look in there,” another voice says from somewhere very close. After a few seconds, a man with a pistol enters the room and looks around. His eyes fall on me and bear into my skull. I try my best to remain as still as the horse I’m pretending to ride.

“Don’t remember the horses having two riders when I came here as a kid,” he says.

“Will you focus? If there’s someone here and we don’t find them, Grand’ll kill us,” the man in the other room says, sounding angry. ‘Grand?’

“Alright, alright, I was just mentioning it. Jeez,” he says as he walks out of the room. He’s still too close though for me to move.

“Nothing?” the other man pauses, “Alright, let’s go then.” They walk away, their footsteps heavy.

I very slowly and very quietly climb out of the fake prairie and tip toe to the door, looking around for anybody else as I do so. Then I squeeze through the door, being careful not touch it and potentially create noise. As soon as I’m out, I quietly take a few more steps and then I bolt off sprinting. I race by all the dilapidated buildings with vines taking them over and head straight for one of Hearth’s grates. I slip into the grate, startling whoever’s supposed to be guarding it. “Whoa, Rat! What’re you doing?” he calls after me.

I don’t answer him. I just keep running. I have to talk to Hearth right away. I run around corners and through long halls, desperately trying to get to Hearth. I know she’d be in the left wing at this point in the day, so I run toward that. As I turn the last corner before the left wing, I come face to face with Hearth, almost running into her. Alarmed, we both skid to a halt.

“Rat! What on Earth are you running around for?”

“Grand is making some kind of plan. He was in the old museum today,” I huff.

“What?”

I simply nod, knowing that she didn’t say what because she hadn’t heard me, but instead because she couldn’t believe it. “Oh my God.”

“He had henchmen there too…and who knows who else.” She asks if I think that our special visitor found him. “Or Grand found him. Either one is terrible.”

Hearth bit the tip of her thumb in thought. “What are we going to do?”

“We need to tell the other leaders. This is a threat to everybody in this city,” I tell her.

“And what if they’re in on it? What if they find out that we know about Grand’s plan and don’t really like it?”

I hesitate, knowing she’s right. As much as I trust most of the leaders, you can never know just who is teamed up with whom. Technically speaking, I shouldn’t have told Hearth, but I did. For all I know, she could be allied with Grand. I simply say that she’s right.

She just nods absent mindedly, staring at a very interesting spot on the dirt floor. Judging by her gaze, something could’ve been coming out of the floor…and there is. A drilling noise fills the hall as a small lump of dirt grew and opened up to reveal a hole; it’s a hole with a man in it. He’s short and slightly fat with dark brown hair either naturally or from dirt. He wears a black coat with a tear at his elbows and has a light on a bent tube that’s attached to a metal ring around his forehead.

“News from the Surface. A group of revolutionaries has formed in the eastern part of Maw. They call themselves the Steamers. That is all,” he says in a monotone but with a slight lisp. Then he drills again and disappears underground.

I turn to Hearth, my eyes wide with shock. She meets my confused eyes and says, “That’s Mole. He’s a…friend, you could say.”

“You mean he’s a spy.” She admits that I’m right, but also mentions that he comes in handy at time like these. I mentally laugh at the phrase ‘times like these’ and think a little about how the city’s beginning to unravel. “How does he do that?” She just shakes her head and raises her eyebrows. “Revolutionaries, eh? Wonder what that’s all about.”

She places her fist under her chin and thinks for a few seconds before raising her head with a lit up expression. “Hey, Rat, were you planning on doing anything today?” I answer no, but say it skeptically. I’ve learned over the years that Hearth never asks if you have plans unless she has some for you. “I see, I see. Well then, since you’re so curious about these revolutionaries, why don’t you go investigate?”

“Oh, no. I will not be pushed around by you again.”

“Please, for me?” she says, giving me her cutest, most innocent look. I almost believe it.

“No,” I say flatly. “Have that Mole creature do it.”

She suddenly turns dramatic, placing her hand lightly on her forehead. “Oh, but Mole isn’t quite there like you are, Rat. He’s spent a bit too much time underground, I think.”

“Flattering me won’t work, Hearth,” I say as I cross my arms.

“Fine, fine. Maybe I’ll just tell you to do it then.”

“Will you?” She says yes. “And if I say no?”

“Rat, go investigate those revolutionaries. Now.” I tell her I’ve got no intention of following up on that. “Rat. Go.” I shake my head side to side.
“Go!”

“Alright fine! Have it your way!” I turn to leave but not before she gets the last word.

“Oh I will.”

‘Stupid woman. Why can she always push me around like that? I don’t get it!’ I think as I climb the ladder to the Surface, grumbling. I storm toward the museum again before I realize I have no idea where these people would be. ‘What was it Mole said? East town?’ I turn in a full circle. ‘Which way’s east again?’ I scratch my cheek and frown. “This could be a problem.”

I decide that forward is as good a direction as any and head off. Passing the dilapidated buildings again makes me feel kind of down, but at the same time I feel young. All of these buildings are dead, but I’m still alive and well. Why didn’t they survive like me? I walk and walk until I swear I must be nearing the edge of the city but sad, beat down buildings just keep coming. Eventually, after what seems like hours, I reach an enormous stone wall as the sun begins to set and the sky turns light orange. The wall looms over me like some kind of imposing demon. It’s a giant staring down hungrily at its prey. And I’m the prey. “Interesting,” I say, “Why do they feel the need to trap us in here?”

I dismiss the thought quickly when I hear the rapid firing of a gun, followed by a low hardy laugh. Crouching down low, I shuffle toward the front of a building. I straighten my back and peer around the corner of the dead tan shack. My jaw drops at what I find. A man is standing in the open grass, holding his arm up and examining it. He’s a fat man with greasy black hair and boots of the same color. He wears an oil stained wife beater and loose grey pants with a yellowish tan apron over them. His arm is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It’s grey and has several gun barrels rather than a hand. It’s a machine. A young girl approaches him from behind the shack with a wide smile on her face. She has light brown hair that goes no farther than her chin and wears a black bomber hat. She has tight brown pants and a tan leather jacket. On her feet, she wears knee high black boots. She doesn’t look any older than 16.“It worked perfectly! Oh, you’ve done it, Dad!” she says excitedly.

“Your Dad’s made a breakthrough, Katie. Those Surfacers won’t doubt us again!” he says proudly. “Now where’s your gun? We need to make sure it’s in top shape.”

She turns and faces me, reaches to her side where a gun holster rests on her belt. “It’s right,” she pauses, her eyes meeting mine. I flinch and clamber on top of the building. “Here.”

Bang! A few shingles are blown off of the roof near the edge. “Think you can spy on us, eh?” the man says. A rapid succession of bullets follows his words and countless shingles are blown to bits. I hold my ground, lying flat on my stomach on the roof. I know that escape is impossible. They’ll shoot me. So what do I do? Bang!

“Hey! We know you’re there so why don’t you just show yourself?” the girl named Katie shouts.

I bite my lip, knowing that what I am going to do will probably get me killed, but what other option is there? I stand up slowly and look down at them. The girl’s eyes go wide. The man raises his gun or rather his arm and takes aim. “Wait! Don’t shoot!” Katie yells, rushing over to her father.

“What, Kate? He’s a spy.”

“Look at him. Dark brown hair, dusty green pants, brown boots, black shirt, torn up green cape? Ring any bells?” After receiving a blank look from the man, she rolls her eyes and says, “He’s Rat, Dad.”

“What?” The man turns to me and seems to analyze me. “By golly, he is!” He lowers his arm and says, “Come on down, Rat. We won’t shoot.” Hesitant and very confused, I hop off the roof, landing gracefully on my feet. I ask them how they know my name.

“You’re famous around here! We all respect you!” Katie declares.

“Where is here and who is we?” I ask.

“Where is the Autobody and we is the Steamers. Have you heard of us?” the man asks, smiling a wide and dirty smile. His voice is rough like sand paper.

“Steamers? You’re that group of revolutionaries,” I say, trying not to give away the fact that I’m here to investigate them. Katie squints and demands to know who told me that. “I, uh, I heard it from a mole.”

The man laughs loudly and seems to shake the earth, but I stay on my feet. “We’ve gotten stranger answers around here, haven’t we?” Katie nods in agreement. “Nice to meet ya, Rat. The name’s Brian, but they all call me Clank here.”

“Don’t suppose you’re good with machines?”

“Hahaha, what tipped you off?” He elbows me hard in the ribs with his metal arm. It feels as though he’s bruised the bone inside my abdomen. “The arm? The name? The get up?”

“A combination, really,” I say, rubbing the spot where he jabbed me. “So this Autobody, what exactly is it?” Clank says that it’s where all the Steamers live. They set up a camp just a few days ago. “And what exactly are Steamers?” I ask.

“What are Steamers? What do you live under a rock?” Katie says. I raise my eyebrows at her in question. “Oh, right, you’re from the Tunnels. Well, here. Just let me show you.” She grabs ahold of my lower arm and drags me off in the direction of a rare row of pine trees. We slide through them, needles poking at our skin and arrive in an immense, open field. Several tan and patched tents are set up with people rushing in and out of them. Many of them carry some sort of material, mainly metal, or tool. Almost all of them are either teenagers or young adults. All of them wear clothing similar to Katie and Clank. Dark boots, tight pants for girls, looser pants for guys, jackets, gloves, some long, some short, some of them wear flight goggles, some wear bomber hats, some wear pulled back metal masks. A few people glance at us but carry on with their business. Clank goes off somewhere toward a large, seemingly troublesome machine and sets to work. “See?” Katie says as she drags me through the cluster of tents. “These are Steamers.”

Machines are everywhere. Parts of them scatter the ground like the aftermath of a horrible battle. At almost every turn, there’s somebody pounding away with a hammer or drilling holes in a sheet of metal, but most of all, people are tinkering with things, not really having much of an effect and I don’t think they mean to. “You’re inventors.”

“Correct,” she says, “We make everything here out of metal and steam. Pretty neat, eh?” she says, gesturing to a small airship taking flight. The thing is literally a boat taking flight with metal wings attached to the sides. It looks like a kid’s toy, but I know it’s not. Or do I? Do I really know anything here? I decide not as a man rides by on a gold machine that resembles a spider and walks like one too. It shoots steam out of the spouts on its body every so often.

“Check it out, Katie! Finally got it done!” he shouts over the incredible noise of the thing. She shouts some sort of word that I can’t understand. I mutter the word amazing and don’t expect Katie to hear me, but she replies to it. “Glad you like it. It’s not much, but hey, it’s home now,” she says, sounding almost sad.

“Why are you guys here? You’re great inventors. Why don’t you make money in the city?”

Katie furrows her eyebrows and balls up her fists. “Because that city is corrupt, that’s why. They banish people to the Tunnels saying they ‘disrupt society’. The only reason they disrupt anything is because they’re not accepted. The Surfacers only want the normal and only the normal belong. None of us here are normal so none us belong and we’re sick of it. If they want our talents, they can accept us for who we are. And they can accept your people too.”

“You do realize that gangs live in the Tunnels right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t care. There’s good in everybody. Take Well, for instance. He’s a great man, but he’s the leader of a gang. Your social standing means nothing to us Steamers.”

“Hm. Can’t say all of us are as pure hearted as you, but it’s good that you think that way. We need more people like you in this godforsaken city. But what do you plan to do to change things?”

“Uh, that we don’t know…yet. We will. With so many great minds here, how could we go wrong? We’re Steamers! Even though we don’t know what the heck we’re doing right now, if you ever need us, just call,” she smiles.

“Will do. I ought to be heading back to the Tunnels, though. Don’t want too many people to know who I am.”

“Right, a hidden identity is all a thief has,” she says, “It was nice to meet you, Rat.”

“Nice to meet you too. Take care of yourself, Katie.” I turn and wave over my shoulder as I walk in the direction of the nearest grate. “Work on that revolution of yours.”

“You can count on that one!” she calls back to me.