You know when you smell something, and for some odd reason you remember that time you punched a kid in the face. Like the smell is a time capsule waiting to be opened, and the memory it right there.

For example: that one time you punched a kid in the face because he stole your juice pouch.

Everything little smell of Mianite was like that to me. The sea salt reminded me of that time we found Jordan and drug him up to shore. The thick smell of dirt made me think of the moment that I fell off a horse and ate a mouth full of soil. Even the damp shade of the jungle front above us, and the musty smell it gave off made me happy.

Lucy teleported us a safe distance away from the village. We had been told that Mianite was mostly a group of leftover inmates that barely got themselves out of jail. A dangerous small town with one street, and a bunch of bars. A population of less than fifty people, and all of them were Dianites.

Which is really how I remember Mianite anyway.

Other than the small village, the rest of Mianite had become overgrown. The Ianite's hideout, Tucker and Sonja's castle, and my little shack at the beach. It had all been overtaken by vines and trees and the weather.

At least that was what we had been told.

Of course there was this little denial in us. This little piece of us that still wanted to hold on to our own houses, as if they were still our homes.

I wanted to say goodbye to my beach shack for one more time, because that was before we were heroes. That was a time before I had a legacy to drag behind me.

Andor refused to leave Hope alone after some incident on the beach. Martha refused to let Andor go on an island full of Dianites alone.

This meant that we had two other things to worry about.

I knew Martha could fight someone off easily if she really needed to, and Andor would find some way to argue himself out of a problem. Those were for different types of attacks. Those were for people who actually cared about their image. The people in Mianite were different. They weren't pretty, or worried about what others thought. The people in Mianite gave me a strong urge to tape Andor's pockets shut so he wouldn't get mugged.

"Where do you all have to stop first?" Martha asked. There was a thick layer of judgment on her words. "I would like to make this trip as quick as possible."

Tucker got easily offended, so he quickly answered. "We were sent to have a look around, so probably a while."

Martha rolled her eyes. "It's only one street." She snapped. "How long could it possibly take?"

Andor was staring up at the roofs of the trees. His blue eyes were screaming "you didn't have to come" over and over and over and over -

"I wanted to check out a few places for some old supplies," Hope motioned. Her voice was oddly quiet. She pushed her pink backpack up on her shoulder. "Which might take a bit longer."

Hope glanced over at Andor as he tried to lightly step around a dead bird. I could see him slightly mouth "aw" as he continued to stare at the bird.

She then darted her eyes back to Martha. "Your best bet is for both of you to go with everyone else to the town."

Oh no. Oh fuck no, you are not leaving me with her. Nope. Nope. Nope-

"Hey Hope I gotta check on something too." I said quickly. I could feel Tucker glaring at me. "Can I come with?"

Hope nodded yes. She could have cared less about what I was doing, as long as Andor was surrounded by as many body guards as possible.

Sonja, Tucker, Wag, and Jordan had the sad realization that they would be stuck waking around some half backed village instead of seeing their homes.

"Well fine." Jordan growled. "In that case." He struggled to get his brown bag off of him.

He slammed it in the ground. The thing had to have been heavier than a toddler. I wondered how much shit he had in that bag.

He sat on the mossy jungle floor, digging through his bag, struggling to find exactly what he needed. Then his hound reached back up, and he crudely held to a crumpled up piece of paper. Then by placing the paper on his knees he scribbled a few things on it with a wood pencil.

"Here." He handed the note to Hope without standing up, which meant she had to get down and grab it herself.

She easily looked through the note. Her eyes only had to dart through the lines once.

"Oh and if you could." Jordan's voice strained as he tried to stand back up with his heavy backpack on his shoulders. "Look for my leather bound journal."

Hope squinted at him, and shoved the note in her pocket. "I thought you had that with you-"

"No I brought a copy to the second dimension." He elaborated. I didn't even realize Jordan had a journal. "The one Hex gave me was left at the treehouse. In the spot."

I would have been more worried about what the spot meant, or how Hope's sudden gasps of understanding added to that, but a world was still rattling around my brain.

Hex. He had died so long ago, yet it was a pain that never really went away, unless you just forgot. When the craziness of other life got in the way, like Dianite, or Mianite, or Steve. You forgot. And then when you remembered again and ripped the bandaid off, the wound felt as fresh when I first saw his damn body being buried in a shallow grave.

"Meet us back at the old courthouse." Tucker said. "Around three."

Hope looked up at the sun poking through the leaves. She had become an expert at knowing what time it was when she had to hide behind the Modsteps backs.

"Okay."

"Alright then." I said. My mind was in a daze. Half of it was thinking about Aura and the other was thinking about my old beach house where I could just drink a beer under the sun. Still I was able to get out. "Good luck."

Tucker smiled. "You too."

It was good to finally be on the same team as him.

Hope stared at Andor. I hadn't realized they were both having a glaring match, and doing that thing that always made it seem like they were reading each others minds.

"You should go with them-"

"I'm not leaving your side." He said, interrupting Hope. And whatever little bit of him had been worried about that dead bird was gone, because he suddenly became this strong leader who was not going to be argued with.

Hope sighed. "Fine."

But it wasn't fine, and I was stuck in the middle of it. At least until I could find my beach house and pry up that board that I had a beer bottle hidden under.

I heard Hope mumble under her breath. "I swear if the Modsteps show up."

Which was defiantly the statement that jinxed us.

The best equipped people to make this trip were me and Tom. Though, Jordan was smart and Tucker had practically run the place, Tom and I knew all the little secrets. We knew the places where shortcuts had been made, and paths had been trampled down. Every tree looked different to us, and each was used as a landmark in our head.

All of the bushes that used to be knocked down had grown back up again. Tom had to hack at all the leaves in front of us as we moved on. Each step led to more cutting motion of Tom's machete, and some angry stomps as he pushed down the leftovers.

"It's not the leaves fault that your stupid beer was stolen." I stated. "You should have brought it with you if it was that important."

Tom grunted out as he sliced away a big palm leave that was blocking our path. "I was aging it!"

I rolled my eyes. "That is not how you age beer."

Tom's expedition hadn't gone as amazing as he hoped. Even though we got all of his old weapons and gods sword. Also the important citizenship documents that proved it was Thomas Syndicate, the Dianite leader. It wasn't a successful mission without his floorboard beer.

What a shame. Really. Tragic.

"How far until we get to where you grew up?" Andor asked. His voice was oddly quiet when we were with strangers, but I could still hear him. Even with the sound of a bunch of dying shrubbery attacking my ears.

"It's only taking so long because of the paths being gone." I answered. "We should only have to walk over one more crest-."

"Woah!" Tom suddenly stopped in his footsteps. The hacking noise stopped, and my anxiety increasingly grew.

"What?" I asked, but even before Tom could answer, I walked up to see what had happened.

I pushed my way in front of Tom to see a path. Just a dirt path that had been walking on for at least a year, but still a path. A path that meant someone had been walking near an abandoned treehouse.

"What the fuck?" I muttered out.

"Looks like we'll have guests." Tom shrugged. This was nothing to him. Just another fight to get through, like a morning exercise.

I shuffled through my backpack quickly. I had Andor with me, and my worst fears were coming true. Andor vs any Dianite from where I was from was not a good idea. He would get stabbed for just looking wealthy.

I felt the wood handle of my hunting knife, and took it out of my bag.

I pushed it against Andor's chest. I could feel that his heart was beating fast.

"Wha-" his voice, though still quiet, suddenly got this sharp tone to it. "Hope I can't fight. I'm a pacifist."

"Gazoontight."

I placed the hunting knife in his hand. I had no fucking idea what "pacifist" meant.

Tom started to walk up the treehouse. I could see it now. The path started to really clear out only a few feet away from it.

It was as dilapidated as I believed it would be. One broken hinge led to a squeaking front door. The bamboo woven stairs that spiraled up the thick trunk were broken in most places. The one half of it had fallen and shrunken down, becoming part of the earth as moss grew a top on it.

Though I knew there had to be some sort of thief living in the treehouse, vines had definitely taken up residence. Whatever area I couldn't see covered in moss was covered in vines. The once pale wood walls were now brown and green from rot.

Somehow I wasn't sad to look at it. I didn't hinder any attachment, unlike Tom who was upset over just one beer.

"Hey look." I pointed to a side of the tree trunk that had been hidden by a tall fern. "I know how we can get up."

I tried to keep my footsteps as quiet as possible. I was heading to a rope ladder I had seen. Jordan and I never put a rope ladder up on the old tree house. That meant that someone else would defiantly be camping in their.

Tom had the same idea. He motioned for me to stop after we got directly under the ladder.

"I'll climb up and scope things out first." I wanted to argue, but I knew there was no point. Any person up there who tried to fight Tom would be pushed off of the tree house before they could put a dent in Tom.

Tom started to climb up the ladder, leaving Andor and I on the ground alone. I had my senses on full volume.

I could see that Andor was nervous, as he fumbled around with the hunting knife in his hand. I didn't want him to have to kill someone, or even hurt them. He was too kind, too caring. He was too much of what humans were supposed to be.

Tom had my watch beep, which was a signal that it was safe to climb up.

Andor almost made me go up first, but I gave him a death glare that made him very aware that I was not letting him on the ground alone.

I waited for some feeling of relief to wash over me. It had to happen soon, because they were both up on the treehouse and they were safe. Still, I could feel something very very wrong. The jungle was an odd type of silent. The type of silent before the start of the battle.

I went to move towards the ladder, until I heard a small clink. It sounded like a pin dropping. My foot had hit something. Something that had been buried.

My stomach lurched. I saw something shining under layers of soil. It was shining silver, and the initials of T.M were way to familiar.

I had hoped those bastards dead, but sometimes you just don't get what you wish for.

Sometimes you have to make that wish come true on your own.

I slid the pistol in my holster. I could feel the silver against my bare skin as my shirt rode up on me, and the rope was so damp that my hands got wet as I climbed up.

The musky smell of dive bars, and empty bottles attacked my brain. All these horrible memories of the worst year of my life came back. As much as I tried to shake them away, they would just attack me again. I got angrier and angrier.

My right hand felt the wood podium on top, and the left grabbed for the gun at my holster.

Thankfully when I hoisted myself up from the ladder, I was still holding the gun because if I wasn't I would have been in a very precarious situation.

I drew the gun in front of me. Tony Modstep making his presence very obvious. I mean what's more obvious than holding your boyfriend hostage with the hunting knife you gave him to protect himself with.

Nice. I said in my head.

"We don't have any more okay?!" Tony took me of guard. He was scared. Actually scared. I didn't look that much different than when I was eight. He should have been able to tell it was me.

And what was he scared for? What would they, some of the most powerful Dianites in Mianite, have to be scared of? Where was Josh? Why did he take refuge in our house?

I still had the fun staying steady.

I glanced at Andor. He didn't even look scared, just a little confused why this jittery man was doing a horrible job keeping him hostage. Don't couldn't even keep the knife right against Andor's throat.

"Let him go." I wanted that to be accounted for first. And then I could explain everything to him.

Tony's surprisingly tired eyes lit up. He had the same put together closed and after-shaved face, but his whole self was so much more jittery.

"Him-" Tony motioned to Andor. "You usually don't bring knew ones around. Where did you get this meat suit to use as a puppet!?"

I finally snapped. "What? Have you lost it dude? I don't look that different! I just have boobs now!"

"Uh hu," Tony's jittery hands could barely hold the knife at this point. "And you always spit out some bullshit like that! Don't have to remind me that our heroes are gone! That our friends are gone!"

I sighed, lifting the gun up again. "Put him down."

"Put my gun down!"

I was purely getting tired of Tony at this point. My voice stayed dry when I said. "No."

"Put my gun down!" He screamed out again. His voice was so loud that it echoed through the jungle. "Put my gun down!"

"Tony." Tom slipped out from behind the entrance. He had been hiding the whole time.

He didn't have any weapons in his hands, but still Tony stiffened up more and got even more jittery. "It's Tom. It's me. You know me right. Poker night at five, during Wednesdays."

Tony almost believed it, but then he erratically shook his head. As if he was trying to get him back to his senses. "No. Anyone could know that."

"Could anyone have this." Tom reached too his pockets, and Tony flinched But was to mortified to do anything.

Tom stood in front of Tony. His identification in his hand. Tony's fave got stark white.

And for awhile Tony looked like he was going to puke, and he stayed very very quiet. Suddenly Tony started to laugh, so hard that he dropped the hunting knife.

Andor dipped out of Tony's grip and hid behind me.

Tony was still laughing. And then he pointed to me. "The real deal."

I nodded my head yes. I still had his pistol pointed to him.

He then pointed to Tom, who also nodded.

Tony was still trying to calm down his laughing, but he was able to get out. "Shoulda known." And then he motioned to me. "Only the real Hope would kill a man with his own gun."

I wanted to glance back at Andor. Reassure him that I wasn't actually a person who would do that. I wasn't a person who was that ruthless, but I refused to let my guard down from Tony.

"Wouldn't be killing a man." I answered.

Tony ripped out another harsh laugh.

They one hundred percent sold organs at that street corner, and no one can tell me differently.

I had seen a lot of sketchy New York ally's in my life time, but nothing was as scary as a walking through that street. I would take a mugger over a sober Dianite any day.

I remember when I first came to Mianite streets like this one were packed with merchants and anyone trying to make a quick buck. If you weren't stealing, you were probably selling.

Now all the buildings were boarded up, and the only movement you could see was in the shadows. The shadows of dark shade of trees, and buildings. The shadows in people's faces. They hid there emotions and there thoughts. A way to careful act for a bunch of careless Dianites.

Something was wrong, and I didn't need the goosebumps on my arms to tell me that.

"What are we even checking for?" Sonja asked. She had her head perked up, and was trying to take as much detail in as possible.

"Something," Tucker scrunched up his nose, not really sure what to say. "Something strange."

Our voices were low, but still they heard us and started to stare. Slowly all of their suspicious gazes grouped at us, and their shadowed faces got harder to read.

"Found it." I answered.

The rocks crumbled under our feet, but other than the deafening silence that all I could hear. Everyone had gone cold in their tracks as they saw us, and started to meander around.

"We should go in there." Martha said. She was staring down a bar, but it was the nicest looking one. She assumed that someone in their would be reasonable, and we were all hoping enough to believe her.

Tucker didn't immediately insist on it, but as the gravel road continued to crunch under our feet, we were loosing street space. It would be weird to just walk in the woods and not visit a place.

Well, weirder than we looked now.

"Okay," he growled. "Fine."

We made a right turn into the bar. I constantly glanced back at the street.

A smell of tobacco and beer was the first thing that hit me. I knew what that meant. The place would be packed.

And it was. The place was filled to the brim. Every bar stool was packed with a muscled and tattered up person. Even the table by the spit buckets were being sat at.