One

I dart quickly between two buildings and into an alley, faced almost immediately with a wall blocking the way. Hesitating only a second I jump up onto a nearby dumpster and vault over the wall.

"Hurry, I'm right behind you!" Barry shouts. I can see him pulling up beside me as we sprint down another street. Suddenly there's a loud crashing sound, and the world around us rumbles.

"I'm going, I'm going," I say, focussing on the safe point not far ahead.

"C'mon, guys, it's gaining!" This useless sentiment comes from Lowery, our other companion. Before I can reply, he shouts and swears, and his body goes flying forward, past us to land on the concrete just ahead. Barry jumps, reflexing like lightning, and continues on, but I'm not so lucky. Jumping too late, I catch a foot on Lowery, and tumble across the pavement.

I bite back a scream as I'm picked up and shaken, long jagged teeth clearly visible around me. Another monster shoots past us and pounces on Barry's back, taking him down too. The world fades to black.

"Aw, damn, girl," Barry says, both of us tossing our controllers down simultaneously. "I thought you said you'd been practicing!"

"Well, when I have time!" I retort, standing to stretch my limbs. We'd been playing for almost an hour, I realize, glancing up at the clock. "I did a hell of a lot better than last time!"

Lowery, owner of said clock and host of this morning's matchup, grabs the remote to turn off the television. "True. That would almost be impressive, if you didn't suck almost as hard this time around."

I reach over and hit Lowery's arm, jokingly, of course, but hard enough to send my message. It's only then that I notice Lowery's shirt of choice.

"Cool as that is," I start, nodding at the article in question, "don't you think it's maybe a little in bad taste, I mean to wear here? I doubt any of the higher-ups would appreciate the throwback, honestly."

"Aw, c'mon," he protests, shaking his head. "It's practically an artifact – and for what I paid, used, for this baby, it's gotta earn its keep. On eBay, these things are going for, like-"

Barry glances over at our friend's vintage Jurassic Park t-shirt, and interrupts. "Maybe not the best idea, bud," he agrees. "You know if Kira's bothering to critique someone's style, let alone notice it, you should probably listen. If something's bad enough for her to get involved, the lizards out there can all see it, too."

"Hey," I say, pretending to be offended, though we all three know it's true. "Delta has a very astute fashion sense, I'll have you know." Speaking the name sends a little pang through my chest, and I make a mental note to stop in for a visit later in the day. It's been too long again.

Lowery, meanwhile, finally gives Barry a little nod. "When you put it like that…"

Barry chooses that moment to practically leap to his feet.

"Shit! You guys!" he exclaims, the wide whites of his eyes standing out glaringly against his dark skin. "It's after eight!"

Lowery swears in reply and yanks a rumpled, blue button-down shirt from the back of his couch. "I can't be late – it'll be the third time this month!" We all know what the punishment is for a third tardy slip within thirty days – let's just say it's a pretty crappy deal.

As if on cue, my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket; I wave to Barry, who's already at the door as I answer.

She doesn't even give me time to greet her before launching at me. "Kira! Whereare you? Production meeting starts in five!"

"Good morning to you, too, Claire," I reply glibly, used to the stony tone she's utilising. "I'm just entering headquarters – be there in two."

I hang up before she has time to harass me further, and follow Barry out the door. Lowery, too, follows our exit, though Barry and I, picking up the pace, quickly outrun him. Lowery's never been known for either intense dedication, nor intense physical labour. Outside the apartment blockade, Barry jags left, heading for the car parkade, while I take off to the right – my destination is much closer.

Ten minutes later, I make it to the third floor of Jurassic Headquarters, where Claire is waiting just outside Conference Room B. Claire, a striking redhead, stands about 5'8" naturally, an inch or so taller than I, but in her usual sky-high heels, she towers over me at nearly six feet. Her blue eyes are almost snapping with annoyance, and the severe cut of her hairline only adds to the persona that intimidates almost everyone else. Me, I've known her far too long for that, having found my immunity somewhere around the age of eight.

"Just outside the building," she scoffs. "Some days, Kira, I wish you were just a little bit more responsible-"

"Speaking of responsible, why are you waiting out here when the meeting's already going?" I interrupt, still unfazed at her tone. "What does that say about you? You're the older one."

"Henry's running late, too, as it happens," she replies, sticking her already-upturned nose into the air. Conscious of the same shaping of mine, I make a mental note never to stick my own that high. Lowering her gaze to study me, her eyes darken in disapproval almost instantly. "What sort of meeting apparel is that?"

I glance down too, though having dressed myself very recently, I shouldn't have to. Maybe the look in her eyes is starting to get to me. Just a little. My dark green cotton tank, paired with brown shorts and well-worn hiking boots look very good, I think, though admittedly casual next to Claire's white belted skirt-dress thing. Not to mention the high heels.

"What?" I reply, apparently not fazed enough to drop the flippant tone I tend to take when Claire goes on a rampage about something. "It's clean."

"You look like you're going to the beach…or something," she sniffs. "Or a hike or whatever you like to occupy yourself with – bug hunting, maybe, I don't know – but even you've got to realize that there is no way that outfit is meeting appropriate!"

"Yeah, but the meeting's like, what, an hour?" I point out. "And then what? Zach and Grey will be here and we'll be just hanging around like tourists for probably ten or twelve hours – which, if I did the math right, means ten to twelve times as long as the meeting." I glance again at her heels. "Don't your feet get sore in those, anyway?"

Claire sighs in frustration and waves a hand at the nearby coatrack. "Good God, Kira. Put on a lab coat, then, before you sit. Your legs will be under the table, anyway. Just stay seated when I get up to speak. You're going to look like you're not wearing pants if you traipse around the room in that coat."

"If I'd have realized that's how I can get out of these speeches," I tell her, obediently slipping on a white coat, "I'd have started dressing like this for meetings years ago."

Refusing to reply to the bait, Claire simply sweeps past me and into the boardroom, heels clicking daintily as she goes. Smiling, I roll my eyes at her back and follow.