He looked more like the son of Death than a freelance systems hacker as he strode through the flames that would have taken my life greedily had he not plucked me out of the hell I had backed myself into. I had lived all my young life as an Edge-Town brat and I had seen many things but the inside of a torched building first hand was not among my previous experiences. To say that I was paralyzed by fear would be a more than accurate statement.

I had fled the flames, running clueless into the old Foyer of the place I had called home and huddled, terrified out of my wits, screaming, in a corner. When the fire had finally found me I was half dead from the greasy smoke and beyond fear. As he lifted me up into his arms with the grace and ease of a dancer I thought he was the Devil come to take my soul. Everyone knew there was no such thing as God in Edgetown.

Why Crow chose to save my life was, at the time, a mystery. It was a common fact that Edgetown brats were as rare as garbage and equally as useful. With one arm wrapped about me tightly, he steered his jumped up, night black motorcycle through the chaos that always inhabited the city after dark and took me to his home, The Maze.

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