It was a rather glamorous nigt. The stars shone like diamonds. The sky was a smooth velvet black, cloaked in voluminous luminescent clouds, and the moon hanged low and big, and ominously beautiful. It was almost suggestive... does anyone ever wonder what would happen if the moon crash into the earth, like a ceramic plate with all its cutting jagged edge. Sandara shook her head. Ah! What are these thoughts? Was she... perhaps nervous. She walked back to her vanity while she tightened the lace of her corset, one hand skimming along her spine, checking if there was any part loose. After she was sure the corset was perfectly in place, she begins to knot the ends like a bow at the ends of a shoe tie. She began to recite a rhyme in her head;

Bunny ears, Bunny ears, playing by a tree.
Criss-crossed the tree, trying to catch me.
Bunny ears, Bunny ears, jumped into the hole,
Popped out the other side beautiful and bold.

Her father chanted that rhyme, over and over whenever he ties her laces with his knitted brow, and overly serious frown. He would look up to her  and tell her, "Dara-bbit never get caught."

She would always grin at him, and think he was quite silly with his overly serious face. But always she would promise and tell him, okay.

Okay, appa. I will never be caught.

She didn't really understand what he meant. She believed it was at the game of tag that she sometimes played with neighbour kids, but now, she knew, there was a bigger game she was involved in. One that she didn't know she was in until the chase left her an orphan.

Never get caught. Never get caught.

But who was chasing her exactly? And after all this time, had they forgotten her? After killing her father and brother, was that it? Was the game finished now that they have taken away from her everything that she held precious?

Never get caught.

She was going against her instinct. She knew. The night when the shadow men came and killed her father, she knew that she was by all definition the quary, the prey. And the prey never courts its own predator. But her father and Sang hyun... what about them? What about justice?

She replaced the earpiece that dangled along her left cheek. If it falls out like this again, she may need to tape it.

As soon as the earpiece was in place, a loud static crashes into her ear. Sandara grimaces and brings her wrist to her lips and spoke to her watch. "Z, volume down if you want me to keep my hearing."

The static lowers in volume. A female voice shrouded in static said "shhhh... Sorry, shhhh... X. Shhh..." The volume of the crashing shhhhh recedes to the background, "Better? Shhh..."

"Much. Thanks."

Sandara aligned the wiring of the earpiece that goes down her back, a chip receiver and scrambler taped on the middle of her spine.

"Shhh... Too much static... Shhh." A male voice comes in, "z, you need to... Shhh... find... Shhh... the stable baseline for... Shhh... this wavelength... Shh... It's... Shh... Almost... Shhh... Unusable..."

"Shut up... Shh... G! I told you... Shhh... I'm not... Shh... Good enough... Shh... Solo... I'm doing... Shhh... A  manual... Shhh... VPN spanning! Shhh..."

"You are... Shhhh... You just need to... Close in... Shhh... And input... Your desired base... Shhh... From the schematic of..."

Sandara zoned out from the technical argument. Her head was already filled with unmanageable things. She lays on thick make up, red lips, dark green shadows around her eyes. She takes note of her hands. Her finger tips cold, and trying to keep steady from slight tremors sent by her nerves. Her heart wasn't frantic, but it ached with anxiety. She gritted her teeth. She hated how conscious she was of all her physical tells. From what she learned, it wasn't at all normal. Normal people would think ah, I'm nervous. Dara's head went into complete assessment, indicating physical changes from heart rate, respiration, temperature of extremities. She was highly aware to the point of absurd. She shakes her head. It doesn't matter. She puts on a masquerade mask, one lined with swirling glitters and feathers on her temples.

With three quarters of her face hidden, will they know it was her? Would the people who was after her know it's her?

Chronos.

On the mirror she checked on her over all look... An emerald green corset hugged her form, producing a synthetic S line. Her skirt was a short voluminous waft of green mesh the shade of moss. Her hair in a bun, a touch to her forehead brought side swept bangs. She looked like a debutante.

La Voleur Debutante.

She smiled at her reflection. Debut presentations serve as a declaration of the readiness of females to be pursued by eligible candidates. It was always that. She always knew that she was born to be pursued, perhaps never in the usual manner in this modern society. Either way, she had prepared for this day-- to tell them. I am ready. Come catch me if you can.

Don't get caught, Darabbit.

She begins to slip in vials at the insertion points of her skirt. The vials filled with a powdery substance that shimmers a hundred prismatic tints, like tiny tubes filled with a crushed rainbow. She assures her father's voice inside her head.

I won't get caught. They won't catch me. I just need to know more about them... so I can...

"Better?" Z inquired after several unseen adjustments.

"Better." G agreed. "Are you ready, X?"

Sandara stares at herself. Concealed under her clothes, under her skin and bones, a beating heart wild at a pump, reminding her of that last run when she lost everything.

Her father, Sang hyun lost to her forever.

Run, Dee!

They need to come after me, so I know who's chasing me.

She brought her watch to her lips again, "as ready as I'll ever be."

And after I know... I will bring them down.

###

She clinks when she walks, like tiny little bells where fitted under her skirt. The people found her quite amusing. It was a masquerade ball after all, but her going as tinker bell? She must be some sort of entertainment, right?

The hall was lavish, with thin dark blue fabrics arranged on the ceiling in waves, like the outdoor sky spilled with fairy light like the distant stars. The tables were decked in excess, the meats, sweets lied glistening under show lights, like they were more decorative than for consumption. Sandara filched a mini red velvet cupcake and popped it in . It was good, soft and creamy, chocolate so rich it was bitter sweet. She her lips in appreciation, grabbed a champagne flute and scooped herself some of the golden punch. She sipped at it quietly, while s