“Writing is a form of personal freedom. It frees us from the mass identity we see in the making all around us. In the end, writers will write not to be outlaw heroes of some underculture but mainly to save themselves, to survive as individuals.” - Don Delillo


Part I:

The air was crisp and cool in central park. A slight breeze caressed the tops of trees, and the moon beams danced eerily across the pillars and stairs. The fountain across the walkway let out a gentle drone, lulling any day roamers to sleep. It was the perfect night. A wonderful mix of nostalgia and mystery. Her brown hair fell neatly over her shoulders, in a cascade of wavy, once-was curls. Her big green eyes glistened in the dark as she scanned her surroundings. Suddenly, footsteps were heard descending the staircase. In one swift move, her tall, limber, body, was planted flat against the back of a giant marble pillar; Drowning her in shadow. Struggling to stay still and quiet, she craned her neck in order to hear what was going on. Almost instantly, everything seemed to change. The breeze had turned into an angry, howling, rage of air, and the moonlight played mind games upon the walls. It was as if these two men, who in ten quick steps, sent the world into a spiral of hate.

In a loud, booming voice, the first man sneered "You don't know what you're doing. If you continue to stick your nose where it doesn't belong, you're going to get into serious trouble."

In a voice that seemed far too high to belong to anyone over the age of 14, the second man replied "You've always taught, seek and you shall find, ask and you shall receive. Why preach what you do not practice?"

Slightly more agitated, the man answered "Do not undermine me! I am your authority and you shall treat me as such. There are dire consequences for rebels like you, dear Kristoph. I'd watch what you do and who you cross."

With that, the two men began to ascend the staircase. When she was absolutely sure they were nowhere near, she slowly retreated from the shadows. She took in a deep breath, and slowly let it out, as if to calm her nerves. As she headed to the staircase, herself, she noticed something glisten on the ground. Kneeling down, she scooped up the little piece of metallic interest. Slowly and carefully, she turned it around and inspected every inch of it. The symbol on the charm were that of something she'd never seen before. After a few moments, she shoved it into her pockets, and began to walk towards the subway station, breaking into a job, then a run.

Sprinting down the stairs, taking them three at a time, Icel came to a halt, just before slamming into two men awaiting the train.]

Man 1: [With a sinister smile, the man sneered at Icel] Well, well. Where are you off too in such a hurry?

Panic stricken and out of breath, she stammers "I...I... The... I'm late. It's past my curfew, I really must be going!" She took off, walking faster and faster as she got further away from the men. Not moments later, she heard the shwooshing of the brakes on the subway train; Filling her ears with the sound of wanted retirement, and wear. The doors slid open, revealing a lonely, decrepit shell of a once-was car. Graffiti scoured the walls in a creative, song of color. Icel plopped down in the closest seat to the door, and let out a sigh. As the subway crept forward, she let herself relax, leaning her head back against the window and closing her eyes. Behind her eyeslids, light flashed by, spiraling her into a mesmeric trance. Thoughts began to flood her mind.

The subway car screeched in elderly pain, as it pulled into the dark subway station. The few lights cast an eerie yellow glow around the terminal, leaving Icel with chills as she stepped out of her car. After a few glances around, she began to swiftly and quickly head towards the stairs. She emerged from the dungeons of modern day transportation, into the bustling streets of East Village. Artists, actors, dreamers, and broken hearts, wandered the streets; Oblivious to the dark secrets that the city really held. The crisp spring night air caught her by surprise, and she shoved her hands deep into her pockets. A moment later, she felt a pang. Her hand flew out of her pocket and straight for mouth. The blood danced on her lips, leaving behind a cool, metallic taste. Remembering the charm in her pocket, she disregarded the wound and pulled it out for further inspection. Standing there, beneath streetlights and neon signs, she carefully handled the item. Light played off each symbol, casting odd shapes upon the ground. The wonder, the mystery, it had taken her away from reality. *BAM* In an instant, Icel was on the ground, a grouchy homeless lady yelling obscenities at her. As the homeless woman hobbled away, she grabbed the charm off the pavement, clasped it tightly in her fist, and pushed her way home. Once she reached her building, she didn't hesitate to go inside. *Click* She locked her door, threw her hoodie over the arm chair, and set off for her room. She rooted around for a few moments, until she found what she'd been looking for. A green velvety box, lay in her palm. She open it, and laid the charm inside. After snapping it shut, she returned it to its original place and covered it with a handkerchief. Thoughts ran circles in her mind as she dressed for bed, and fell deep into a dreamless slumber.

PART II

The bright morning sun sent kisses of warmth across Icel's face. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. The sounds of morning traffic, bus breaks, and incessant chatter filled her ears. She rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling, taking note of the way the it yellowed in the corners, the crack that ran along the east wall from too many years of life, the uneven way it rested upon it's four solid friends. After a few moments of getting lost in nothing, she pushed herself up and looked at the alarm clock. 9:13am. 9:14am. 9:15am. Such a lazy day this could. She shuffled herself over to her small kitchen and began to make herself a nice cup of chai. As she sipped at the warm, soothing, elixir, she headed to her desk and dialed an ever so familiar number. After a few droning rings a voice is heard on the other side.

"Seriously, Icel. Before noon? Why?"

"I have a mission for us. Meet me at Bamn in an hour!"

"Icel I'm not even dre-" The phone clicks and silence is heard.

Gracefully, Icel dances around her tiny studio apartment, gliding around furniture in an orbital dance. Singing cheerfully to the tune of nothing, she drifts about, sliding a white noodle strap dress over her slender, tan, body. She then elegantly pulled her cascading waves into a half pony, letting a few loose strands fall into her face. *RING* She came to a halt, pulled her phone out of her pocket, and answered.

"Hello?"

"Icel, where the hell are you? You said an hour!"

"I'm.." She paused for a second to think of an excuse. "..Almost there!"

"I'm sure you are. Get your butt over here."

She hung up, grabbed her messenger bag, and took off out the door, locking it behind her. Swiftly, she ran down the street, nearly running into an elderly lady. When she arrived at Bamn, she found Josh and began explaining the little charm and how she'd come to have it in her possession. She went into detail about the intricate lines and shapes upon it, and the way it could illuminate an entire area with one small flicker of light upon its surface. Josh told Icel about a friend of his who could maybe depict the designs and figure out its origin. In a fit of excitement, Icel kissed Josh on the cheek and skipped home to get it. She opened her door and gazed upon wreckage. Her belongings were strewn carelessly across the small one roomed apartment, leaving no room to walk. She hurdled over furniture and mess to her dresser. She opened the small drawer, shoved her undies to the side and slid up the false bottom. Much to her luck, the green box sat there, unscathed. When she turned around, Josh was standing behind her staring wide eyed. In a panic and worried about Icel's safety, he grabbed her hand and began to run. They ran down the street and through a jungle of concrete and steel. Dodging cars, pedestrians, and misplace foliage along the way. A total of about 14 blocks whizzed by before the duo ducked down into a subway station. They boarded the familiar old system that was the A train, and road to their destination. Forty five minutes, two screaming babies, and a ghetto blaster later, they arrived at their stop. The train pulled in, and they hopped off. They fled lightly out of the station, and pushed way to the surface. Hands still interlocked, they continued to run, almost as if they were flying. Finally, they came to a shady little shop in the heart of china town. *ding* the door creaked open, pushing a little silver clanky bell. From behind a worn old curtain, a man appeared.

"Josh! Well, well! What have you brought me today?" The aging man asked.

"Mr. Tokanaga, we need to know what this is." Josh gently pulled the green box out of his pocket, flipped it open, revealing the small, gleaming, piece of metallic.

With the smallest of glances, Mr. Tokanaga's eyes widen. Where did you get that?" He gasped.

"Icel found it. In Central Park. What is it?"

He looked around the dark, dank, and dusty shop, then leaned in very close and began to speak in almost a whisper. "It is a symbol of strength and power. A relic passed down from one generation to the next. Not much is known about those who hold the relic. Only that they are evil in every sense, and hold the power to destroy an entire city, should you cross them wrong. It's a secret organization composed of power hungry men and women. They call themselves the order." A look of fear sweeps its way over the shop keepers face. "You should leave."

Catering to Mr. Tokanaga's wishes, Josh and Icel slide out of the shop and onto the city streets. The sun had set, and hazy lights illuminated the still moving streets of China Town.