It is a dark, damp alleyway, as cliche as that sounds. People pass by either end of it, purposefully making their way to their destination, talking on their cell phones, sifting through their purse, or just rushing to catch a taxi. It is just as one would picture New York.

Suddenly, a young boy appears from the shadows. His face, hair and clothes are streaked with dirt. His cheeks are sunken, but his intelligent bright blue eyes peer from under his sandy-blonde hair calculatingly, analyzing every detail of the narrow alley between two of what he calls 'high danger zones'. Only moments later, he seems to perk up, muscles clenching, adrenalin pouring through his veins. An official-sounding and decidedly feminine voice filters through the din of the city. This seems to be some sort of cue; the boy darts away, weaving expertly through the hordes of people as though he's done it his whole life, because, of course, he has. All the people rushing by are a blur to him, but one girl; she stands on a corner in the usual preppy rich-kid clothes, wavy red hair pulled back into a neat bun, framing her pale face. He knows this girl; he just doesn't remember how. Meanwhile, he blends perfectly with the people. He blends so well that, somehow, no one takes any real notice of the boy with wild eyes racing through the streets of New York. Only one girl notices him; her murky green eyes pick up every detail of him, from his worn sneakers with the soles slapping loosely against the pavement to the way his hair sticks up at odd angles. He has the hollow look of someone who has been hungry for most of his life, but he runs with surprising purpose, like he is running to instead of from. Yes, the wavy red haired girl picks up every detail and stores it away for further analyzation. And neither have any idea how much the other notices. Or how much it matters that they noticed.

Shep crossed Old Fulton Street, leaving a trail of honking horns behind him. While it wasn't the heart of the city, the temporary home they had set up under the Brooklyn Queens Expy overpass got a lot of traffic. They were moving in two days; Nibs had discovered a NYPD setup only a few block from here. That generally meant trouble.

And here was Nibs now, eyes wide with telltale excitement that meant he had news.

"Shep!" he called, racing toward him from where the rest of their ragtag family was crouching by a small fire. "We found a new place! It's perfect! You have to see it! It's perfect, with-"

Slightly had come up and clapped his hand over Nibs' mouth. Slightly was the second oldest, and rather conceited; he believed himself to be the better of the others because he had spent longer with his parents, and had a little musical flair. Whenever the possibility was there, Slightly could find a way to make some music.

"I went looking this morning," he told Shep in the official voice that said he meant business, "because you said to, before you left; and I left the Twins in charge, like you said to; and I went up to the busier parts of New York, like you suggested."

Slightly, you see, was quite determined to become the leader of their little gang. He figured that the best way to do this would be to follow Shep's instructions carefully, so that he would give a good impression. Unfortunately, this gave off more of an 'unable to think for himself' vibe than the desired 'good at following orders'.

"And I was up by West Broadway, right? And right near a pretty good-looking restaurant, there's this alley. So I go look, and what do I see? It's got a couple fluorescent lights on the walls, and a big dumpster with the restaurant's trash, and near the entrance there's a Goodwill clothes drop-off box, just waiting to be broken into. It's pretty clean for a NY alley, I guess because it's in such a high-class area, but there's no cops anywhere. Except for near the theaters and stuff, of course, but they'll have their hands full there. So... is it good? Will it work? I took the rest of them up to see it after lunch, and they really liked it."

Shep sighed. They had been trying to stick to the same general area for a while, give the littler kids a chance to get used to the streets. But this place threw that right out the window, plus the 'lie low' plan, while they're at it. So many snooty rich people, so many policemen; a cop would just flat-out throw them in the cop car, a rich old lady would try and do a good deed for the poor little souls lost in the big, bad city. Both ended up at Angels of Mercy, the orphanage. NOT a place where they wanted to be.

"I don't-" Shep started, but was cut off by Tink.

"I liked it, too, Shep. I really, really want to stay there. Can we? Please?"

Shep took a deep breath and looked away. He hated playing the bad guy, but sometimes it was necessary, and usually they got it and moved on. However, this time they seemed very determined. And- well, he wouldn't sugar-coat it. He had a soft spot a mile wide for Tink. Who wouldn't, with her long, wavy blonde hair and angelic blue eyes? Nobody, that's who. Everything about her just screamed innocence.

"I-well, I- I just don't-oh, what the hey, let's do it." Shep said tiredly, setting his swollen pack on the floor. His remark was meant with cheers; they really were happy. Maybe it was worth it.

Wendalynn smiled cheerily, shaking hands with the agency hotshot her father was associated with. While they were stuffy, she rather enjoyed these corporate gatherings; putting on pretty dresses and interacting with all these important people. Her mother looked radiant beside her, wearing a new dress by some expensive designer with an exotic name. There were so many, they all kind of blurred together in her mind.

"And who is this lovely young lady?" One man in a handsome pantsuit said, gesturing to Wendalynn. She blushed modestly, and stuck out her hand. "I'm Wendalynn Dear, Charles' daughter. And who might you be?"

The man smiled at her, pumping her hand up and down. "Well, Miss Wendalynn, I'm Aaron Spenders of Tix 'n' Tox Watches. It's been nice meeting you." And with that, he wandered of toward the hors d'oeuvres.

Introductions like this were very common. Whether they were the CEO of some megacompany or a little undersecretary, everyone had something to say to the young, but nonetheless elegant Wendalynn Dear. Beside her, Michael and John where socializing in a similar fashion, flashing prize-winning smiles and chuckling at jokes that weren't the least bit funny. Wendalynn was proud of them.

Now, here was a new one. Wendalynn looked at the fat, outlandishly dressed man. Plum and gold tux with a red bow tie; ugh. Why had Father invited this man? He obviously had no taste.

"Now, who might the delicate little lady in front of me be?" he asked, smiling cheekily. She smiled politely back.

"I'm Wendalynn Dear, Charles' daughter. And you are...?"

"Oh, it's nice meeting you, Wendalynn. Interesting name, that. I'm Jared Hooke, founder of the Angels of Mercy orphanage and treasurer of some of the major charities of New York. Your father and I were involved in New Yorkers for the Homeless and Hungry together last year."

Oh, there we go, Wendalynn thought. Father did always like to play generous millionaire every once in a while, and this man looked like the kind of eccentric who would dedicate himself to charity.

Behind him was a plump little man in an odd but somewhat classy blue-and-white striped pantsuit. He had big, round spectacles and was following Mr. Hooke like a lost little duckling. Wendalynn looked questioningly at him.

"Oh, that's Howard Smee, my secretary. Howard, Wendalynn. Wendalynn, Howard." He said, gesturing from Mr. Smee to her.

"Now, Wendalynn, is this were you live, or is it rented out?" Mr. Hooke said conversationally. Wendalynn frowned a little. It was an altogether innocent question, but there was something... off about it.

"Oh, this is our home, yes. Unusual to find such roomy apartments so near Broadway, I know, but my father of all people would be able to find a way." She said politely, trying to indicate that she wanted to end the conversation. Mr. Hooke was not getting the message, however.

"Oh, yes, of course! Charles was always a stubborn one, wouldn't expect that to change. Are these charming young men your brothers?"

John and Michael were standing awkwardly behind them, looking like they wanted to talk to Wendalynn.

"We are, sir. Can we borrow Wendalynn for a moment, please?" They said breezily.

"Of course, boys! Nice meeting you, Miss Dear."

Wendalynn followed the boys out into the balcony. She didn't like that man. He seemed nice enough, but something was wrong. She didn't know what, but something definitely was.