Lights flashing, a whistle booming the building and the sudden feeling of dizziness, but there she was. A blonde ash shaved haired girl holding her head after having a door crashed against her head. The blood drilling from her nape and ear stained her hand. Confusion bursted into her mind, too focused on that whistle lurking in the most hidden corners of her mind. After a couple of seconds trying to recover from the concussion the girl looked around the usual white and sickeningly clean room she got used to living in now full of blood and broken stuff. The girl blinked when the flashes before being hit awaked. The pictures of a blonde man killing the child and scientist next to her department bursted into her head. She knew that man, she certainly knew him well enough to know her life was being risked right now.

The blonde blinked twice, dispersing the pictures in her mind and gazed through the doorway gap. The body of one of the other childs she'd been trapped on with was lied down on the floor, still. With a lot of effort she forced herself to crawl next to him, passing through bodies from scientists to children, all of them as dead as he seemed to be. When she finally arrived she could easily recognise him, it wasn't even necessary to brush the blood from his wrist to check the number tattooed. But she did it anyway, in a fraternal kinda way. The number 010 greeted her. She remembered him. Both of them had been taken away from birth, so as it was obvious they grew up together, in a very toxic and competitive atmosphere, but grew up together anyway. Getting closer the girl checked his breath. Nothing. With her pressed lips she couldn't resigned to avert his death. Crumpling her nose she stubbornly checked his pulse in hope the beating of his heart haven't stopped yet. Nothing.

Suddenly, a hand touched her shoulder. The number eight greeted her with fright and a frizzy haired girl captured her attention, putting a hand close to her mouth asking for silence. Gazing at the brunette's eyes she pleaded for an explanation but 008 just stayed silent looking at the boy right in her arms. "He's dead." The blonde informed in a low whisper. "We don't have time to cry." Eight cuts, noticing the tears accumulating in her eyes. The girl cleaned them taking a huge breath to ask. "Time for what?"

"Run"

The words echoed the girl's head announcing the abruptain end of her dream. Now a much older little woman with long wavy blonde hair was the owner of the memories coming like a flash through her mind. Both children sliding through the halls covered in blood, the hole in the basement that caved to the forest, the truck full of straw and then... Nothing. The girl rubbed her hands against her face letting out a tired sigh. The tattoo on her wrist burning her skin tempted her to scratch it until it got erased. Once again she just brushed the impregnated tint on her skin, reading the numbers she already knew by heart. 007.