Emma

“Come on, keep up,” Emma commanded Arsenio as they both carefully walked across the precarious steel beam spanning between the old factory and the abandoned shopping mall. “I don’t want to sleep in a rotting old office again any more than you do,” she promised before landing firmly upon the second floor of the mall and watching for Arsenio to do the same. The 12 year old managed it well enough; he hopped down right next to Emma, looking up to her expectantly as if wanting a reward for his job well-done. Instead, the older woman paced away, snapping her fingers to encourage Arsenio to keep up. The woman tried to remind herself why she was doing this: it was all so she could show Aurora Corporation that they could shove it. She raised a hand to her mouth to cover up her proud smirk, remembering how pissed they had all been, her commanding officer especially. “Aurora Corporation offers you the world, the opportunity to become a decorated officer, and you’re throwing it away for some kid you hardly know?” That was what he had asked her that day they flew the coop. To be honest, she wasn’t really doing it for the kid, in spite of how bad she felt for the child when she had first met him, This was all for herself, and her own pride.

Emma gazed around the interior of the mall, scanning for any threats; plenty of Visage addicts, criminals, and psychopaths would probably have flocked to this place since it was abandoned and had fallen into ruin. “Looks like we have to find our way out. Maybe find something useful while we’re at it,” she mumbled, once again keeping her newfound charge mostly in the dark when it came to her plans. Arsenio, clearly frustrated, shook his head. “And then what?” His uncharacteristically terse reply caused Emma to turn on her heel, tapping her foot in frustration and brushing dull blackish hair from her face. “And then, we keep going,” she insisted with an arch of her brow. “We get as far the Hell away from Aurora as the both of us can get, and then find you a nice little farm to live on with the other runaways.” Maybe harsher than she meant for it to come out, but it was the truth that she had no intention of sticking with him all of her life.

Arsenio stared up at the woman, perhaps the bravest he had ever been in his life. “I want to find my mom,” he insisted, for what Emma felt like was the hundredth time in the past week. Emma frowned deeply and sighed in frustration before replying, “She’s gone, Arsenio. She and your dad sold you for cash to get Visage, and Aurora gave ‘em enough to buy just the right amount to forget your name.” Arsenio stomped his foot. “You’re lying! They wouldn’t!”

“Please kid, I’m just trying to make it clear to you: I’m all you got, so just stick with me for the next month or two at least, would you?” It was a truth Arsenio seemed almost tragically aware of, yet also desperately wanted to ignore. As the tears started, Emma sighed and dropped to one knee, gripping the handle of her stun baton on her belt and reaching her hand out. “Hey, I’m sorry, I’m just--”

Before she could finish with ‘tired as all Hell’, she blinked and he was gone. “H-Hey!” She cried out, just now seeing the 12 year old running off in the direction of the decrepit food court. “Arsenio! Get back here, damn it!”

Arsenio didn’t listen, and he knew Emma couldn’t keep up if he ran as fast as he could; Emma was in good shape, but she was a 45 year old trying to chase a 12 year old through what was now a full-on obstacle course. Arsenio wanted to get as far away from it all as he could. Not just Aurora, but Emma, too. It had been nothing but Hell for him since day one, and he was tired of it. As he ran, he thought. He thought about his parents most of all. His mom and dad, who he barely remembered… Was Emma right? Did they sell him? Even as he stumbled into an abandoned space which was once a toy store, he couldn’t remember. He looked around curiously. He’d never been in any place like this before, and even though everything was old and dirty now, he felt like a kid for once in his life.

Emma was right behind him after a while, huffing and sighing in annoyance. “Don’t run like that…” She trailed off as she looked around. “Oh… toys, huh?” She couldn’t help but laugh. “Didn’t figure this would still be intact.” Perhaps looters had no use for children’s toys. She leaned down and put a hand on Arsenio’s shoulder, as he still pouted and had tears smeared on his cheeks. “Hey, you can have one.” She nodded encouragingly. The child perked up a bit; he had never really owned a toy before. Emma paced around, lifting up a plush recreation of something she’d never seen before. “Ah, I see…” The tag said ‘dinosaur’ on it. “How about this?” She handed it down to Arsenio, who took it with a bit of a smile.

Emma glanced around, seeing the exit doors as Arsenio lifted up his dinosaur with a smile. Emma was sorry, even if she couldn’t say it. She peered curiously at the doorway, shaking her head. “Come on, let’s go.” Arsenio followed her, hugging his new toy happily. As Emma walked on, she hurried over, and tested the doors with a groan. Locked. “Damn…” The woman lifted her leg to kick the door: no good. She sighed in annoyance. “Well, kid, looks like we need--” She stopped, her heart jumping into her throat when she turned around.

Surrounding Arsenio were five Aurora secret police. Among them, one held a baton similar to hers, showing his high rank. He had a proud grin on his face and long black hair which framed the expression in a way that made Emma want to punch him.

“Hiya, Emma! Thanks for keeping H-795 safe for me.” He nodded. “Name’s Jethro.” Emma sneered at his greeting as he waved for his men to take Arsenio, the young boy shouting in protest and dropping his toy in the struggle. Emma watched with horror. The kid was going to be tossed right back into that test tube they had put him in. All she could do was try, now. She had to save him. Arsenio was just a 12 year old, and she was the last thing he had. The only ‘guardian’ left for him. Jethro shrugged happily. “Figured you’d have kept a better eye on him.” The older woman grimaced. Perhaps she should have.

“Let him go,” She ordered with an angry tone. “That kid’s been through enough.” Jethro seemed entertained.

“Woah, now… Keep it cool, lady. You know, they told me you were some big badass a while back.” Jethro was on her in a flash, her eyes widening as his baton cracked to life with electricity. She jumped, narrowly avoiding the strike as Jethro grinned at her cruelly. “But I guess now you’re just an old lady, huh?”

Emma frowned at him, pulling out her own baton. “So that’s how you wanna talk, is it?” Her weapon activated as well, and she faced down the young man as his men and Arsenio watched. “I’m only 45, you know.” She looked to Arsenio for a moment, nodding to reassure him as Jethro clapped. “So, you’re still some hero, huh?” He frowned, muttering, “Always hated hearing about how great you used to be all the time.” He leaped towards her again in a flurry of attacks which caused her to stagger, guarding with her baton. “You’re just a runaway without a purpose anymore,” he growled in contempt.

Jethro let himself get distracted by that frustration, and Emma’s instincts came into play. As the young man pulled back for another hit, she easily prodded right at the sweet spot between his shoulder and his neck which caused him to cry out in shock and drop to the floor, paralysed. The guards, thinking Jethro had just died in front of them, immediately broke ranks and ran; ever in it for cash, not glory. Arsenio picked up his dinosaur toy and ran to Emma, hugging around her waist in a wordless show of thanks as Jethro jittered on the floor. Emma knelt and watched the young officer, only his eyes able to move as he glared at her. She smirked, covering her mouth, and turned away, seeing the ‘emergency exit’ sign in the distance. She looked over her shoulder as she took Arsenio’s hand and began walking. “Still got it.” The runaway pair hurried off, Arsenio holding tight to both Emma’s hand and his toy, as Jethro barely regained mobility, helplessly watching them escape his grasp.