April climbs onto the roof. The school is deserted at night, seeming to acquiesce to her intrusion. The vast streets can be seen from the roof of this building, as well as the spotlights shone skyward from the gym several blocks out. Unlike Rim Billiton, there's no stench of slag on the evening breeze, nor the dust Rhodes Island so often faces in storms while sailing the wilds. It's clean, and strange for it. Her field mission concluded two hours ago. She made sure to put on her favorite band's bracelet as she set out from the Rhodes office. Had a whole disguise on and everything. Still got stopped outside the venue. 'Our tickets aren't for sale to the Infected. We need to ensure the safety of our other concertgoers,' the worker said, while taking a cautious step back. 'Sorry.' Yeah, figures I'd get caught, she ruefully thinks, stood below the looming white gymnasium walls. Infected have their own neighborhoods, their own perimeter walls, and their own checkpoints. Rhodes Island spent a week of classes teaching her that Oripathy wasn't something you could transmit just by brushing past someone else, but it's not like she can teach the whole city that. Oh well. She's on the roof, right here, right now. She takes off her headphones. Rhythmic cheers and shrieks pour out of the circular venue, indistinct by the time they reach her ears. They're a lot like the calls she used to hear from the mines. In this moment, they echo the beat of her heart. She reaches a hand out towards the spotlights in the sky, almost able to feel the air shaking. Even though that concert venue all bedazzled with lights feels as far away as the moon. In that sea of noise, an extremely familiar intro faintly reaches her, every note mixed in with the city's clamor. She needs to be careful. She can't get spotted. But she still waves her braceleted hand in time with the music, lightly singing as she does. So lucky I got to apply for this field mission, seriously, she thinks.