–Benjamin Franklin

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Elizabeth

       I sat on the bed gazing into space; China flashing through my mind. The training and discipline didn't help those of WWII and nor does it help me. The pictures of the flesh melting from the police in that car, leaving skeletons, the pain in mobsters eyes when I killed their own, and the screaming of innocents being silenced continues to reverberate through my brain.

       Sarah came by my door, oblivious to the fact that I wasn't completely dressed. I have been in the inner circle for only a few days but the six year old was bonding with me pretty quickly. She seemed so innocent, so... well... six,

      "Are you coming to breakfast?"

      I looked at her as if processing what she asked, I was really tired from short sleep due to the memories of China,

      "Yeah," I said with a reassuring smile, "I will."

      I dressed and went into the hall to meet two sentry guns. They were of basic design, but the Baron has been amping up the security of the mansion through manpower and turrets. If I didn't know better, I could have triggered the paranoia, but seeing how Magmantis joined the Dragoons I defer that I am the least of their concerns.

       In the dining hall we sat down to a replica of Louis XIV's table; and it all felt odd. Not that the table was odd; it was extremely extravagant! What was odd was the food...

      Prepared before us was pancakes, hash browns, and scrambled eggs. All this- this normal food on such a table with all these 'rich' people was odd. It was like we had an entire menu of IHOP catered to us but cooked even better, and the majority of the table wasn't too crazy for it.

       Except the Baron, he was crazy about the stuff, and he ate his eggs and hash browns topped with ketchup and his pancakes drowned in syrup. Everyone was eating and carrying on and I caught Él Doug's eye, he winked at me. I rolled my eyes.

       Men...

       When the Baron had finished eating he rested his elbows on the table, intertwining his fingers,

       "We have had a great deal of things on our minds here of late," he said in that deep raspy voice that always sounded serious, "I think  it's high time that we  visit," almost dramatically, "the Rink."

         Obsidian and Sarah pumped their fists and shared a high-five, Thread Walker rolled her eyes in a way that no-one saw, Alien sulked back into his chair and I couldn't control myself turning pale. Was that a crime rink? What is all that they do here? They... kinda sold me to the Wo Shing Wo; what else is there?

       My gaze had met two other people's glares. Was that jealousy in their eyes? Contempt? No, Waya and AoDD were watching me go pale with distrust...

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       I couldn't rap my mind around it. I just couldn't. I was a girl again, in the company of my father in this very place. Knowing that the Baron was quite literal in a off way, I should have expected something like this.

       We were in the galleria's ice skating rink; but I didn't expect "Rink" to be so literal in this sense. They were skating around like... almost like teenagers. Especially the Baron and Thread Walker.

       Me being a woman, I quite quickly picked up that the Baron and Thread Walker had a thing for one another. The Baron thinking that it was a secret was... I don't know. This new world is so different but not different.

       What I thought was going to be a world of death begetting more death is a world of people. Like... these-these... supposed monsters are people with lives. They're like a gang of school kids.

       Alien didn't skate, among others, but enjoyed himself with hacking into the galleria's security mainframe... and making among the top twenty in the world for Fruit Ninja... Temple Run, Jetpack Joyride, and a few others. I don't know how, but Waya just sat there like a statue, like somehow becoming the most intimidating thing I ever seen. AoDD couldn't keep his eyes off blonde women in the mall and, lastly, Obsidian, Él Doug, Sarah, and MasterLock roamed around the galleria.

       When the ice need repaving the Baron asked next to me, reminiscent to a school boy,

       "Are you not going to skate?"

       I was ripped from my thoughts and said,

       "It's just, my recently deceased father used to take me here before the Draft."

       He cocked back a brow. Aw crud...

       "Really?"

       "Yeah," I said sheepishly.

       "When did your father die?"

       I felt stabbed in the chest,

       "Not long ago..." I tried to say to end any further probing.

       His gaze showed understanding and he said pointing,

       "You see that Starrbucks?"

       I looked at it with tables and lines full of people. It was an amazing day with the sunlight billowing into the high windows. My father had taken me there when I was a girl. I nodded and he said,

       "I'd take a friend there a lot, but he died a few weeks ago..."

       My jaw locked tightly shut, the stabbed feeling earlier had just escalated to being impaled twice and being burned alive. The next thing he said tripled it,

       "He was like a father to me..."

       Thinking that the memory of my father's death came fresh upon me and thinking to comfort me,

       "Let me get you some coffee."

       It had touched my heart and tripled the pain again. The man who got my father killed is going to now get his daughter coffee? Did he know? Did he know!? Did he know that this place was the last place I was with my intact family?

       Going with him, I could see the pity in his mannerisms. He didn't know that some Angels were trained to never cry, but we're human. Hmph, human, just like him. When he paid for my coffee I asked,

       "What happened to your father?" I stuttered out.

       He stiffened, almost in an old defiance, bad idea, but he said not looking toward me,

       "I'd trade my biological father for the man who died a few weeks ago."

       Could I be in any more pain? Why does this man want my-my normal father in the stead of his? Didn't the FBI guy say that his father was a governor?

       "Wasn't your father rich?"

       He looked like a cat with it's hair on end, but the cashier had watched but two seconds of what was going on and said "Have a good day!" With a fake smile silently saying, 'My gawd, I don't wanna get involved with this...'

       Walking away he mumbled hatefully,

       "He put me in a-" he stopped himself short, "never mind."

       As if to change topic, "I was gonna go shop with 'Ms. Walker' did you wanna go or were you gonna shop by yourself?"

       "I'll go by myself," I replied hastily, the pity returning to his manner. Why did my father and brother's indirect killer have to have pity on me? Sincere, but even the ArchAngel wasn't honestly sincere? It tore at me something viciously.

        "Alright then," he said, digging in his pocket for a card to give me, "take this and think nothing of the fifty grand on it. We don't want you being tempted by Dragoon cash."

        I was just about to leave, when he said darkly, "Oh, and one more thing AllFall."

        I turned to him and met his messaging glare,

        "Remember the cord attached to your neck in China?"

        The cord snapping from its place seemed to echo when he said that, and the air was filled with a ominous frigidity,

        "Yeah?"

        "It wasn't connected to your neck, but your brain-stem."

        His glare was doing most of the talking, tacitly saying, 'We have something strategically placed in the most important part of your brain. That's why we're trusting you so easily; because we could kill you whenever we want. So if you do anything... and-'

       "The card only works for the galleria."

       'So if you try to buy a Porsche not on display in the galleria, we'll blow your brain-stem for running off with my cash. There's more money to be had with us...'

       He smiled at my comprehension, and then,

       "Have fun."

       I tried to smile in return and strode as fast as I could to the nearest restroom and bewailed all these things that I didn't understand. Why did my father drink coffee with that man? Why!? He had to mean someone else!

      After I got the pain off my chest; I tried to comfort myself to about forty-seven thousand dollars of clothes and other girly knick-knacks. Usually the material items wouldn't comfort me. When I splurged myself for the first item, a five-thousand dollar windbreaker I felt a little guilt. 'This is tax money,' I thought but then again; political dweebs do it all the time...