Julian sighed and glanced over to Treo leaning against the grimy wall. His head ached, a dull throbbing pain, residue of the previous nights uppers, downers, poppers, pills and slappers. Treo ignored his look, he went to speak but she looked away, she was pissed, more so than normal, he knew why as well. Some things were never meant to be. What could he say? He'd been out of his head, so had she, hell, so had everybody in that place. The Zone was that kind of place, a makeshift, temporary hangout for the intoxicated and high dug out into the remains of a service depot in the bowels of the service tunnels underneath London. These kind of places popped up all over TUBEville, they generally lasted a few months before the police got fed up with all the tourists complaining about their kids disappearing for nights on end, turning up out of their head on some new designer drug. Julian lived in London, but spent most of his time in the subterranian sub-city of TUBEville selling pirate music, films and the suchlike to tourists and residents alike. The rest of the time he spent casing the various clubs and bars with Treo, listening to music and swallowing down anything that came by. They'd been doing this together since they were ten, dodging school and their own parents until they couldn't be bothered going home again. Julian glanced up and saw that Treo had gone, he stood up and headed along the street, heading for the nearest entrance to TUBEville, an apology wouldn't solve this mess, but it would, at least, be a start. --- A bit of blurb for Moebius87 who, rightly so, pointed out I had been a bit thin on the ground in terms of prose. More stories from TUBEville available at TUBEville.org