Day 1 Morning

[Belle]

Before the fight

The creepy ghost raised his hand and said a few choice words, and with that, Belle was torn away from the world once more. Flung into darkness, not knowing whether or not she would see anyone ever again, she reflected, squeezing her eyes shut as the feeling of falling quailed in her belly.

All in all, she was getting rather tired of this pattern.

She landed with a WHUMP on soft earth - a small mercy, much more preferable than the temple's cold stone floor. Lying on her back, waiting for the sensation of spinning to fade, she felt the cool kiss of grass pressing against her arms and legs, tickling the nape of her neck. She opened her eyes.

Sky. Cloudy and brooding, but real. After months of languishing in the seedy bowels of Coruscant's fourth tier, she'd forgotten just how wide and deep it could be.

She wasn't sure how long she lay there, watching the dirty clouds swirl and pass overhead. Five minutes, maybe ten? She would have liked to have stayed longer, wait out the day, soaking in the realness of the moment, but it was not to be.

As real as this was, as tempting as it was, it wasn't her home, neither the old nor the new. The spirit - Tracer? - had intimated that they were free to go once he had gotten what he wanted. Lily was probably already out of the hospital and wondering where she was, and the old woman, well, she probably thought Belle had run off and quit in disgrace after her beating at the hands of Mister Pickles.

Paws, she corrected herself. At the paws.

Either way, she knew she couldn't stay here forever.

With a sigh, she sat up, shaking her head and giving the cool patch of grass one last farewell pat before standing. She found herself on a hill, a sparse smattering of trees stretching into the distance across rolling plains.

Taking a deep breath, she shouted Mickey's name. If they had been close together in the temple, surely they couldn't be so far apart on the island, right?

But the anthromorphic mouse didn't answer. No one did, save for an ominous groan of wind. Belatedly, she remembered the ghost's warning about guardians. Maybe screaming out her location to everything within earshot wasn't such a good idea after all.

Guess I'm walking, she thought. She took a step forward and stopped. She'd just stepped on something hard. Glancing down, she realized it wasn't, as she'd first suspected, a loose branch, but something unmistakably manmade.

The toilet brush she'd holding when she'd been whisked into the temple had had a bright pink handle. The crowbar in the grass was the exact same shade. Bending down to pick it up, she tested the weight. It was about the length of her forearm, curved on one end, the other sharply angled for prying. She'd never had to use one before, but she understood the concept.

Well, maybe it'd come in handy if she ever ran into a stubborn door or something. Holding the bar loosely in one hand, she set off, striding down the slope towards a denser clump of trees in the far distance.

During the fight

Her eyes widened as the gun turned to point at her, her blood running cold.

Why was he trying to kill them? What did he mean by competition? Weren't they all here to help the Spirit?

Those were the thoughts in the back of her mind, the little niggling things that were immediately drowned out by a flood of adrenaline-fueled panic. She heard the shots, felt Mickey's hands pushing her out of the way - too late. Pain burst across her arm as one of the Agent's rounds grazed across her, burning and slicing open her skin.

She was bleeding. On the plus side, she wasn't scared anymore.

Swearing, she lunged at the agent. If she was going to die here, dammit, she wasn't going to do it cowering. She'd decided to put that life behind her the second she'd agreed to Yuki's training, the moment she'd confronted the men in the street outside the woman's house.

Somehow he managed to miss - she wasn't sure, it seemed a blur. She remembered hitting him hard enough to send him to the ground, slamming the neon pink crowbar into his face, panting as she laid into him.

The butt of the gun slapped her temple, causing a burst of white across her vision. A bright beam of something passed by, burning her eyes and forcing the suited man to retreat. To her side, the anthromorph still held a faint, fading golden glow.

There was another question to throw on the pile, she thought: when did Mickey learn lasers?

Post fight!

"Who was that guy?" Belle asked, wincing as Mickey's overly large fingers prodded at her arm. The injury wasn't especially deep - it had already mostly stopped bleeding. The mouse had assured her that it looked worse than it was, which was good, because to Belle it looked pretty freaking bad. "And why was he trying to kill us?"

"I wish I could answer either of those," the cartoon mouse answered.

Belle looked at him. Maybe it was the overly large eyes, but the mouse didn't make for the best liar. "Fine, I guess it doesn't matter," she groaned, then hissed as the cut on her temple throbbed. "Is everyone out to get us?"

The mouse shook his head and smiled. "Of course not! Not most, anyway. Well, maybe a couple." He glanced away. "Definitely not more than half."

"Cool," Belle sighed, then looked in the other direction. She was silent as Mickey finished his inspection. "I'm sorry," she said finally.

"What for?"

"Freezing up like that. You had to save me." She couldn't keep the disgust completely out of her voice. No matter how much she tried, that always seemed to be how it panned out. She turned to glare into his eyes. "If these guys really are out to hurt us, I don't want to drag you down... I promise: I won't let it happen again."

Mickey regarded her, his expression neutral. Then he smiled that goofy, happy, familiar smile. "Don't worry about it," he reassured. "I won't let anything happen."

She frowned and opened her mouth to object, that that was exactly what she didn't want him to have to do, but then he continued: "Aha! But if you feel that way, I have a little something for you."

"Something...?" Belle asked, tilting her head as the mouse fished in his back pockets.

Mickey grinned. "The spirit gave each of us something, right?" He pointed with his other hand to the crowbar at her side. "Well, he gave me the ultimate survival guide! I know there's something in here that'll help you get stronger. Ah ha!" He stopped. "Here it is!"

From behind his back came a glossy, folded magazine. Carefully, Mickey opened its pages, his eyes brimming with eager hopefulness as he held it out towards her.

Belle stared, heat crawling into her cheeks. She felt her brow twitch.

"Maybe you should wear something like this?" Mickey suggested.

"Wh-what....?

"What kind of girl do you think I am?!"