​ The world is always blue here. Not in the emotional sense, but, rather, more literally. Not a cloud floated in the sky. Never does. I'm surprised I know of such a word. Nothing but blue. Makes me sick. Over the white noise of the blowing wind, the echo of steps and chatter fills ears. Loose uniforms wrap around every body; their color reflect all the light from the cloudless sky. In disorderly lines, feet skip in mindless circles around the square. Along the delicate breeze the bakery drifts into open noses. Two young girls dressed in their white nightgowns run past me, dropping a basket of produce and wisteria. Two pair of round eyes stare. Silence. The girls laugh and hop away, leaving the mess behind. I kick it forward a little and step over the mess, forgetting whatever happened. Making my way towards the outside of the square, I see that cobblestone building patiently wait; as of tradition, I steal away the time. Unwavering, peace always overcomes thought here. All is hushed within the crowd of conversation.

Walking by a shop of multicolored glass ornaments, I hear the chime of a song. A sound, unheard before, shatters through. Only from the corner of my eye, I see a woman, a teenage girl, and the girl I saw earlier this morning with the envelope. They walk in a certain formation.

     The main woman in the middle of the other two led the group. Round seeing glasses encompass hazel eyes. Though they are intended to improve her ability to read, it makes her unreadable. Her gait is an unbalanced and inviting waddle; her expression is observant and forgiving – even if I've done nothing wrong. Her skin was brown but light as though she gets very little sunlight. Hair rested on the top of her head, untamed in an elegant and tight bun. She looked about in her twenties, around twenty-six. As I walk forward to pass by, I notice her gaze quickly drift towards my direction. Before I knew it, wide eyes look me dead in the eyes. "Mr. Luke Flame. Have you received my invitation?" She spoke with a calming voice that only an old and caring woman would. I sigh, not caring to have this conversation. "Get out of my way." I order and move to push through her, but her movement is quick and effortless. I find her wide eyes scanning right in front of me. "Oh, I'm sure you can spare a moments worth of conversation. I thank the Lord that you have received my message." She speaks again. Although she maintains a suggestive tone, I hear the firm authority within. I never said I got the invite. Firm hands grasp my shoulder, and a reassuring squeeze gently presses.

     A crack and splatter. Breaking through sound, it came from the building they had all just left. The sound so– I glance over in the direction. As my body turned to look through the display window that was blocked by an army of colorful chimes, a sharp and well-kept nail pressed deep into my chest. "Sorry hun, but I believe you were being spoken to." The fake looking teenage girl speaks with a cackle.

     She was wide shouldered and lean limbed, and her pale fingers were abnormally bony and strong, pressing deeper through the cloth of my shirt. The wrists which held such fingers were covered in cut scars. She must be self-harming, but she doesn't hide it. Speaking of, I find scars all over her body, which is barely covered. Her stomach, her legs, even her neck had scars. I look up to see her face, wondering if she was serious. But her face was virtually completely hidden by an elaborate up–do of brunette and powder. Her nose shows hints of being broken many times. Is that intentional too?  "I'm leaving." I state as I pass and head to Headquarters. They watch as I move on. As my feet march me forward, I heard the youngest of the group call out, "Please do respond! This place doesn't like actions done brash!" Lifting my hand in the air, I showcase my middle finger as I push forward. I hate this place.

     The Headquarters, the station, the birthplace and daycare of the "law". I walk through the rotating glass door; eyes scan the hustle of those holding case files and mugs with spilling over stale coffee and evidence and of those resting at their desks scribbling away in piles of paperwork and organizing them into thin vanilla folders and of those strolling the interior perimeter with bullet-less guns attached to their waists, searching for nothing. All the lively movement here is unnecessary because our job is needless. Peace is a constant and we are- life is- the formula. But, we aren't using either to solve for the unknown because no one cares for it. I slide my chair out and take my place, kicking my feet over and resting it on my desk. I wait and wait. That's all this worthless world is good for. My messenger rests on the tabletop with the same dull screen it's always had. My job's the easiest- the lowest- job here because I'm "too unnerving" for any other position. All I do is stay on call in case an "emergency" occurs, and someone else is sent out on duty. The pitiful people who do call typically need to stop being bitches and just clean out their own damn infestations. Out of habit, my thumb reaches up to the top corner of my lip and rubs the scar of an unknown source. The one of two things that differentiates me from him. With so much time to waste, I spend most of it wondering from where it came – stupid to do. Wouldn't it be something if I'd have to fight my way out of being Check-Uped?

     Shaky gloved fingers gently nudge the back of my shoulder, and the source speaks in a mouse tone, "'Scuse me sur." I recognize. . . that annoyingly queasy voice, too fast to really hear all that's said correctly, yet recognizable from anywhere. I turn and look at the tall and frail woman. Seeing my face, she jumps back a little and stares at the floor.

     She wore a suit as thick and isolating as a hazmat and, coincidentally, yellow. The collar, both wide and tall, covers the entirety of her neck and most of her chin. Her short hair was brunette, ruffly shaved at her ears and around the back of her head, but loose and blond at the top in a bowl-like cut. Fearful gray-blue eyes stare at me with great hesitance. Her name is Page, which fits well because she's always acting like a page torn out of a burning 1,896 page bound book, floating away with the stormy winds. "The Woman in Silk will- she would like to see you now." She speaks; lips quiver after every consonant spoken. She only has one reason why she comes to me. Slowly, I rise from my desk, bitterly glancing around for him. It's the same routine every other day. 

    Page rushes over to the coffee maker, pouring a cup of joe and mixing it with sweetener till it was no longer coffee. As I turn to walk to the top office, she hands me the mug as she opens the door of dark and heavy wood. I take my traditional seat, feeling the hot mix burn the palms of my hands as I put on the desk before me. Looking around, I see the towering wooden book shelves of unread books, never touched and never to be. Not that anyone knows how to read anyways. Long fingernails wrap on the polished and empty desk which they own. The energy of boiling rage radiating from the two of us causes Page to step outside, closing the door behind her. I slide the coffee across to her, to The Woman in Silk.

     She has yet to even focus on me yet. Dark eyes stare out to a space beyond me, while her other hand – the one not tapping the desk – props her chin. Hair is tightly braided around her head and put up into a bun. Thin and rectangle shaped glasses loosely hang on the lower bridge of her nose. Her skin is dark, and the darkness in the room almost makes it impossible to see her features. But, it never made sense to me. Why was she called that idiotic name? She's never worn anything outside the typical uniform, and she definitely hasn't worn silks. She sighs and mumbles in a beaten attitude, "very well then." Her eyes finally focus on me. "Mr. Flame. I've heard of your... interactions with those you have been tasked with . . . apprehending." Before she even starts up, I point at my lip and state, "wrong one."

     Sliding the mug back across the desk towards me, she presses a button that calls for Page. The stern expression on her face indicates that she really wants me gone. I grumble and stand from my chair, leaving the luke-warm coffee behind. As I leave through the door, Page follows, walking backwards so she's sure that it's just The Woman in Silk's glare that's shooting daggers and not her hands.

     However often this happens, it still doesn't make sense. I am nothing like Luke. My unexplainable fury burns more than the sun that lights this overly bright world. My eyes are cold as the ocean, yet burn to 1800 K. My scar. But he loves this world more than himself. His smile catalyzes the joy within everyone around. His eyes are a fog-less blue like the sky which we live beneath. If he weren't my brother, I'd hate him  more than I hate everything. Because, like my loathing of this world, his adoration came naturally. It was like he exists only to juxtapose.

     I can picture what he's doing now. Just now waking, noticing unclosed and mixed files all around his feet and a clicking noise when he leans over to disorganize them even more. He'll find the source of the noise in the bed. It's a handgun pointed right at his groin again. He'll jump out of bed and rush here to apologize to The Woman in Silk for us being confused once again.

    I glance over as Page finally closes the door. In reaction to such, she looks at me with a nervous expression. It looks like she's about to cry. When I turn all the way around to walk back to my desk, a surface is behind me as soft as a bouncy house. As I bounce back, I hear a crack. Not a crack from the noise of my teeth finally giving in to my constant grinding, but the noise of ceramic mug crashing into the back of my white button up. I stare at the spreading puddle, and I turn around to see The Woman in Silk with the same mess on her. With so much anger gone in expressed, the only word that can finally leave my mouth was: "Luke." He takes a step forward like he didn't even notice it happen. Not until he steps in the puddle does he notice the world around him.

     "Oh. Good morning Seán." He says while yawning. "I'm going to go get napkins." Page stutters as she creeps past my death glare at Luke. "Oh, can you get me a cup of coffee while you're over there? Today is going to be a long day." He speaks while he follows The Woman in Silk into her office; doors close after him.

     After watching Page clean the mess, I sit back in my desk chair. In this building everything is calm, safe, task-less, boring. But out there. Out where Luke works as a protector of the people... that's where I might find meaning for this world. At least, that's what I think will happen. I've never wanted anything but this world to end since existence. Right when I came, all I can remember is pure unadulterated rage. I can't explain why I feel like this; it's just my standard. But all I need is-

     The two-wooden doors to the Commissioner's office swing open and closed. Luke strides out with a key swiveling around his fat pale finger. He stops by my desk and grabs the warm mug Page left on top. He continues to hover above me, just standing there. Rolling my shoulders back and bringing my messenger to my eyes, I grit my teeth and clench my free hand at how long Luke simply stands and watches while he drinks his coffee. "You coming with?" he nonchalantly asks and takes another slurp out his cup of joe. My grasp on the messenger tightens and the blackened screen brightens and slightly glitches.

     There are only three reasons as to why Luke ever invites me to patrol with him. He begs me to pay for lunch, begs me to chase after a suspicious individual because I happen to be more athletic and a better fighter yet less muscular, or he begs me to do both. I crack my neck and stand up. "Alright." Luke's hand grasps my shoulder, patting it a couple times before he heads off to the door. I make my way in front of him and lead the way. "Slow down! No rush or anything. I do have some news, but I already have a feeling you already know though." He speaks while I push through the revolving door. Beaming lights temporarily blind my eyes once I step out.

     Luke is always three feet behind me, but I never know where I'm going. I slow down and let him lead me to somewhere unknown. As we head upstream the crowd, people smile, lightly wave, and nod their heads at Luke. They hesitate to do the same when they see my face. Something I wonder if they all share a memory of me which I don't have. "Where are we headed, Lucas?" I speed up and ask in an aggressively. "Can you relax for once? It's not like you have anything planned." Luke suggests and pats my back. Based on the expression on my face, he stops patting and decides to hand me a black envelope that has banana and gum stains on it. All that I could determine out of the word written on the front was The. "That's" -I cut myself off. It's the invitation I threw away in the apartment. I open up the envelope and read the paper.

    To the Flame family, I send this invitation. I have plenty to discuss with you all, and I am quite sure you are very interested in hearing. This being because I am sure you know of me, or, at the very least, my infamy. At 12:00, your opportunity will present itself. Do please keep a watchful eye.

-    T.B.

     "Why the hell should I care?" I ask and head to the recycling to trash the invitation, but Luke slaps the back of my head and snatches the card. When I turn to face him and glare, he reels back and apologizes. Shaking his head, he sighs. "The Woman in Silk is thinking about bringing you up a level. ...But I'm not so sure about it." He randomly states and strolls the street, looking around for suspicious people, occasionally he'll finger gun at special ladies or do a quick signature grin." They giggle and wave back. "Why aren't you so sure, Luke." I grumble and walk beside him, looking around too but unsure of what I'm looking for. "Well. I'm not so sure if you're ready to get any more memories back. You just seem like... the- I don't know how to explain it. You're just plain erm- horrifying. I just don't want you becoming the type where you go around trying to end the world... I just don't know you all that well anymore." He continues, staring out to space, and, then, he stops by a man who dropped his market items in front of a cart.

     His hands were shaking; he was struggling so bad that he couldn't pick up a single item. Luke kneels and gestures to pick them up, but the man slaps his hand and whispers in urgency, "Are you human? If not, get your damn dirty hands away from my avocado sculptures." Luke looks at me, and I at him. "Sir. You're going to have to come with me. It seems as though you are due for a Checkup." Luke slowly says. "Hah! What for. Now scram 'for I do something you don't want." The wrinkly old man whispers. His brown eyes flicker back and forth between me and Luke. "I wish not to have a confrontation on such a beautiful season day, sir. I'm sure that it will only take a moment." Luke says. This approach he takes is always stupid. I stretch my hand out in his direction ready to grab the bullet-less gun his hand motions to. The old man grunts and nods his head. He stands up and follows Luke and I to CF, the Checkup Facility, leaving his wax avocados behind. I leave, pocketing one.

     We wait in the lobby. I sit on the left of the man and Luke on the right. "Hell. You said this wouldn't take long." The man grunted and spat on the floor. "It's only been six minutes." Luke replies. "You human?" the man gruffly asks me. "Yes." I reply. "Then why's your shirt all dirtied up? You sure you human?" the man asks again. "The hell does it matter to you?" I snap and see Luke's disapproving expression. Flopping back and slouching lower in my chair, I grumble as much as the man.

     Then, the clicking of heels crescendo. "Mr. Huxley?" A soft voice calls. I look up from my crossed arms and see Clara, our little sister. Luke and I stand in unison while Clara quickens her pace to hug us, hesitating to hug me because of my dirtied shirt. "It's very good to see you both. Especially you, Seán. I see Luke, like, almost all the time." She giggles a little bit. What that means, I'm unsure. She's just nineteen, so she's too young to even work here. Noticing my confusion, she speaks up, "I've taken up an apprenticeship." Smiling and nodding, she looks behind and between us at the grouchy old man. "Hello, Sir. I am Clara and human, and I will be following up procedures to ensure that you will live a very happy life following this one incident. Please follow me." She nods goodbye to us after speaking and leads him to behind a metal door. Before the door closes, Luke calls out to Clara, "Hey! You want to meet us at the usual?" All that was heard other than the metal slamming was, "sure!" We head out.

     Before we leave, I grab the trench the man so trustingly left on the back of his seat. And we follow the heat beaten path of the crowd in silence once again. "Hey idiot." I pause and think. "Yeah?" he asks and opens the curtains to the usual restaurant.

"The usual."

"I'll have the same."

    "Don't you ever think... about why the reaction is always the same?"

    He glances over at me and stirs the ice in his water.

    "...no. I don't really have to. I get the job done, keep the world safe; that's all I need."

    "tch- and when that starts to fail? You never think. Anytime someone remembers, they're pissed; They're crazy. They either hate humans or hate who isn't 'human'. But, why? Why do they try to hurt? What makes them mad? What could they possibly remember outside the world that could possibly lead to-"

"no."

The conversation ended. The first time I've seen him mad.

The server placed down our food with hooked hands and smiled a toothless smile. "Uh -thank you." I say, pushing the soup aside and stabbing my fork into my doughy entre. The man nods and pats his bulbous belly, indicating that he thinks I should eat more. Then, he walks off to the back, leaving us alone.

Like hell Luke thinks he's gonna shut me up. "What do they mean when they ask us if we are human or not?" -A loud slurping noise overpowers my questioning. Luke finishes his noodle. When I start to instigate more, I'm interrupted by Clara's overly chipper voice.

"Hey guys!" Clara's shining face comes through the blue curtains. Her glimmering phoenix and light brown eyes scan the empty room as her short and round legs bounced her over to the stool by Luke at the bar. Fake blonde hair flops over her face when she plops down. The server comes back almost immediately as though he could sense the presence of those who entered and those who left. He stops and looks at us for a moment, noticing how Luke and I look almost identical but Clara doesn't even look part of the family. Our pale and light features compared to her's always stood out to people. What memory serves to tell is our father remarried to a woman with vastly different features from Luke and mine and had another child.

    The man then nods his head at her repeatedly and points up to the short menu posted in the air. "Oh! Hm... I don't know what I want today. Would you mind just deciding and surprising me? I do love my surprises." Clara says and smiles with imperfect teeth showing through. "Thank you!" she calls as the man happily heads to the back again. For a long moment there is silence. It crept in, even unnoticed by the server in the back.

She's a different kind of happy compared to Luke. While Luke parallels the patriotism of the world, she is the epitome of the cultish environment that's creeped me since the start. Of course it's not her fault, but she's too balanced.

I prop my head on the lower half of my palm and stare out at nothing. The index of my finger rubs my upper lip, and the environment around blurs, then fades.

    I find myself standing at a turquoise pond with white flowers sporadically painted around its edges. The still water slightly begins to ripple to the movements of the fat and beautiful red and white fish inside. I'm washing a cold metal in the pond, which taints the original color. Distant bells can be heard from not too far away and a beautiful voice can be heard singing a tune. I turn my head to follow it, but the source if unfound. Mysterious sustainability please come to me. Mysterious sustainability please come to me. Please come to me. Please. Don't leave me. The voice sings. A soft hand dips into the pond and gently grasps mine. Then it lets go.

    "Seán!" Luke whisper-yells. Lazily, my eyes look over to him. "You are so- ...never mind." He says and looks back at Clara. She's finishing a unique bowl of fruits and sweet bread. "So...do you know what they look like. Or the person that they'll send?" She asks and finishes her meal. Luke sighs and scratches his head. "That's the thing. I have no idea. I don't even know how they'd find us. But, it's strange, isn't it? A man in my position should know how notorious harborers should look. If I were to guess, they'd look out of the loop. Maybe a little dirtied and their clothes tattered, maybe a little finicky and wary of who they're surrounded by, maybe a little noisier in crowds than they should be. It'd be good once we catch them. They're the cause of most of the crimes that the force has to make sure goes unheard of." He continues. What little and insignificant crimes they may be. "Oh, I know. They bring in a lot of work. We gotta always Checkup those who remember what happens or who it happens to. So much work y'know." Clara replies as I zone out from the conversation. I chuckle beneath my breath. They both turn to look at me. I speak, "You're wrong, Luke. I'll point them out when I see them." 

    As we left the shop and Clara and Luke thanked the server for another delicious meal. Moving our heads left and right, we search, not to keep watch and fulfill our roles but to fulfil our curiosity. My eyes are the only ones useful. I push through the crowd until, finally, I spot the littlest girl standing at a stand of journals. Red lights blink on the covers of the books. They're sensors that read the pages to alert us of any dangerous writings. She begins to sniff the inside of the books. "Alright. She's over there." I point and speak. Clara forces my hand down, and an exaggerated frown appears on her plump face. Luke leads the way and stops beside the little girl, looking down at the journals too. He picks up a red and purple leather book and shows it to the girl, asking, "What do you think of this one? Is it a good match for me?" The girl, looks up at him and smiles. A gap is seen between her two front teeth. "Hello, Mr. Luke Flame." She says. She finally got it right. Turning to the rest of us, she speaks, "And the others of Flame Family." She finally grabs a book and walks off ahead. 

    "Where are we headed?" I ask her. "Home. It may be a long walk. I hope you have the proper shoes on." She says. We all look back at Clara and her heels.

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The village has never been left since the beginning of this world. As small as it was compared to the vast remains of the land, there was no plan of expansion or adventure. That's not the way which natural humans live. They desire peace, unity, and cooperation. Not only did they work together amongst themselves, but they also did so amongst the creatures of this world and the nature that followed. The creatures and the nature always gifted the humans with the foods and the resources needed for a simple system of survival, and the grateful humans took just that. The village was made of red stone roofs and clay. The roads of gray rocks and the same for the wells. The gardens open to all and the small creatures cross from the forest lands to the village and from the village to the forest lands. The large creatures wander and wonder at the edges of the village and play with the small children then leave or fly above in the sky for humans to stare in awe and adoration. To live a life outside such, is unexpected and condemned. 

 

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     My feet were reddened, calloused even more, and over-heated. We were walking forever to who knows where, following a child. I'd take my trench off, but the brown stain on my shirt is preventing me from even unbuttoning. Ever since that man said something about it... speaking of. "Hey, Clara. How'd that man check out?" I asked, breaking the silence. "Oh. He's doing great now! I'm sure he's been reintroduced to society with a smiling expression and giddy skip in his step." She exclaims. So, basically, another clone of her.

We walk for hours and midnight is just around the bend. Finally, we come to another stop as we slouch on the nearest wall we can find at the outer reaches of the village. We've done this a couple times now, and the girl looks a little annoyed and uneased. "I didn't think we'd be running this late. I should have gotten you earlier." She speaks with an uncharacteristically shaky and child-like voice. "Well, when you make us walk for how many miles, we get tired after the first, then even more tired after the second, and then some." Clara explains with a soft voice. Kicking my feet out of my shoes, I spit onto the dusty road. The girl turns and looks up to the night sky in thought. "I can make this work. If I can just get her to..." she trails off, staring her shadow on the ground, then turns back to us. "Can I show you all a magic trick while you're resting? Just to pass the time." She suggests and smiles a big toothy smile and opens her eyes wide. "Of course! I couldn't see why anyone would object!" Clara says with rejuvenated spirit and plops down on the ground beside me, lifting a finger in front of my face when she sees my mouth open to speak. "O.K. I need you all to close your eyes for this to work." The girl tells. I shake my head and do as I'm told when I see Clara's poisonous glare.

     Then, a lurching feeling overwhelms my body. Something peeling at my very being. A touch as though I am unraveling, but I can't see it happening. I can't see because my eyes are closed.

I open my eyes.

     Darkness above. Darkness below. Darkness around. I plummet into it. Then, a splash. I still can't see, but I sense there are people all around me. Like there are a million or more prying eyes that stare, stare at my mind. "Show yourselves!" I try to shout, but a drowning feeling forces me to stay quiet. A warm hand grabs my arm and lifts me on my two feet. My ankles are drowned in shallow water, or some black liquid. As my eyes begin to adjust I start to see silhouetted bodies, standing and staring, and buildings unseen before. They tower with many levels, unending numbers of them, unending levels. Like hundreds and thousands of Headquarters. "Wheeereee ameee I?" words bubble out my mouth. Am I underwater? The bodies take a step closer. Then another. Then, they continuously march in my direction. They march at the same tempo, circling around me in the darkness. I take a step back, and my foot sinks lower. They take a step forward, and they grow taller. I take another step back, and I fall through what I thought was shallow water.

     Gasping and wheezing for the air which unknowingly left my body, I find light. It forces its way through my eyes, and I repeatedly blink to gather my senses. I find myself staring out at a roadway shadowed by arching trees, who's long and thick branches overlap into an intangible mess of green and brown. Once sunlight finally peeked through the canopy layer of the forest, it became polarized by the white and rose gold marble stairs, which is the cool surface I'm sitting on. I blink a couple more times. Marble? What's marble?

      Unsteadily, I get to my feet and turn to see what the steps lead into. A house, too out of place to be a part of the village. It must have been as tall as any two homes stacked on top one another. Two statues stood on either side of me. One was a man; the other a woman. They had feathered wings on their backs that had the span as long as their height. In their hands, which they held in front of their breasts, objects in the shape of a lowercase "t" and nails pinned into them rest. The building itself was a modest mixture of black and gray stone and vine. There were four unused balconies, and the center fifth must be in front of the kitchen as the scent of baked goods drifts down to the floor. The front two doors were made of heavy dark wood, and I press my hands onto the cold dark metal handle. Pressing my thumb down, I force the door open. Inside the entrance, stain glass windows with depictions of some story make up the spread apart walls.

     There were three more sets of wooden doors at all sides of the room. My fingers trail the detailed and slightly sharp textured windows, and my eyes attempt to peer through the colorful surface. Though they have the appearance that they could be transparent or at least translucent, it is entirely impossible to see anything through. I make my way to the doors across the entrance. Pressing my ears on the door, I fall through the doors which apparently were opened by the young girl. "Oh! Mr. Sean Flame! We've been looking all over for you!" the girl offers a gloved hand. Looking behind her, I see beige colored marble stone stairs with black metal railing, spiraling up and down into nothingness. Pushing her hand aside, I stand to my feet and, in reaction to this, her expression slightly shifts. "Cooking something?" I ask as my eyes trail up to the darkness above. "Something... upstairs?" I lead on. "No. I'm not cooking. But the food will soon be prepped for dinner. Before then, Auntie Theodora would like to meet you... again." The girl speaks while holding the doors open and leading the way back outside. Damnit.

     We follow the path around the edge of the house to a garden of fruits and flowers. At the center of the garden rests a pond with fish the size of my calf, red, white, silver, and black assorted in color. Some had long whiskers and their eyes followed my every movement. There seemed to be no bottom to the pond. All that could be seen was black again. I stare down to see if there is an end but the rippling surface blurs my view, making it even more difficult.

"Beautiful isn't it?" a voice, familiar and welcoming in tone speaks from behind. When I turn to see who it is, I only find Theodora. We are alone. Her dress flows close to the ground; ankles showing for second beneath the lace hem. Her hands rest in front of her and stay in place as she moves closer. Had it not been for her waddling gait, she would have seemed like a ghost with such little movement. "And it isn't even mine." She adds on and stands beside me, looking deep down into the pond. She pushes her glasses and takes in a deep breath, whispering something beneath her breath.

     "I hope you didn't have a rough time making your way here." She smiles and puts her hand on my shoulder. I brush her hand off. "I did." I say and wonder off to see the rest of the garden. Rare fruits and vegetables were laid out in a hyper organized fashion, and an enticing archway, covered in red flowers with black vines holding them, drew me in. But, once again, her hand grabbed at my shoulder. With a firm but slow hold, she draws me back. "Not yet, Mr. Flame. Not quite yet." She says, smiling, and stares at me with some reassuring expression. "I do believe your brother and sister are looking for you." She adds. "Right..."

     At the dining table, I sit while Luke and Clara easily spoke with Theodora and the other two girls. "Oh! We have yet to introduce ourselves! I am Theodora Black. The youngest is Shoony and the other Kaide." She says. I tap my spoon on the smooth curvy edge of my empty oval plate to pass the time. Where is the food? "You have a beautiful home." Clara courteously adds. A home that they won't let us see. They're keeping some dark secrets here. They're in need of a Checkup; it'd make since. They harbor dangerous people. "I hope to have Shoony give a tour of our estate after dinner." Theodora replies. Then, her head jerks as though she's felt a gust of ghostly wind hit her. "Let us pray before we eat." She suggests, but we all know it is more than a simple suggestion. She spreads her hands out, and the two girls do the same, interlocking hands. We copy them, unsure of what's going on, making a chain around the table. They bow their heads, and we- "Why did you bring us here." I interrupt, jerking my hands away from other's. Pissed off, Kaide is about to speak, but Theodora puts up a gentle hand. "I want"-Theodora is interrupted again by the swinging open of the wooden doors. Following the loud clanking of cutlery and dishes, in enters another member of this strange "family".

     A frail in appearance figure waltzes in with large trays held in her hands. Tons and tons of dishes are orderly stacked on top and beside one another on the tray and rest in perfect equilibrium. Just like her black hair, cut short and just barely and inch or two beneath her chin, she was short. I'd have assumed she'd just turned into her teenage years had she not been holding a job. Her skin was a light brown, but most of it was covered by her uniform: a white blouse, black skirt, and high black gloves and socks, which could barely cling to her thin arms and thighs. Her movement seemed quick. The food is placed down in front of us in what felt like seconds. The whole time she was silent. Hair blocking her face, I couldn't see what she looked like until, finally, she gets in front of me to place down my meal. A shadow casts over my spot at the table. I look up to lock eyes and find on only one dull and pale green eye to return gaze. On the right one, a black eyepatch covered white fancy lowercase "t" embroidered on it.

     She places down my food and drink. My eyes follow the tea cup. It was filled with tea to the rim. Now that she was up close, I could see that she wasn't as still as I thought she was. The tea wobbled to the point that it might spill over as it begins to adjust to the table surface. It felt like the shadow that hovered over me darkened the longer it stood there. I can't help but wonder how long it'll take for just one drop to topple over for the rest to follow. But it didn't.

     She then moved on. Once again, her presence was still, calming, stoic. She was approachable, despite her silence- not that anyone would try in the first place. As quick as she came in, she was already ready to leave. Grabbing her trays, she's at the door in a sweeping flash. "Um... Excuse me! I think Auntie Theodora would like for you to stay. This is really important." Shoony calls out. I gaze around at the full table. Where would she sit? Holding a pitcher, she stands behind our chairs patiently waiting.

    I close my eyes, filing through what little memories I have in my mind. I know her; I think I now her. As I try to think back, all I get is static. But, just for a flash, I see my faceless fabricated "friend." The childhood friend I've only seen in the memories. The idiot that's too curious, too talkative, too stubborn. They're happy- always too happy. And I was always happy around them. At least that's what my memory tells.

"Well, Mr. Seán Flame, and the other members of the Flame family..." Theodora hesitates to speak her mind. Maybe she's so used to no one hearing that she's not willing to give it up. "I want you to arrest us." She asked then waited. That explains why. Her mind is broken. "Why the hell would you bring us all the way out here to get us to arrest you? Why not turn yourself in?" I snap and stab my fork into the delicious looking food. What a waste of time. Which could've been spent getting some good sleep. "Because your family is very important to my plans, or so I've been told."

     "I needed you here to arrest us because your family has always had connections unlike anyone else, but not only that. Your family is known for its involvement with the people and with the government for generations. So, I'm sure you have heard of the Headquarters' recent involvement in the project agency H.I.D.R.A. I wish for you to arrest us, then submit us as candidates for the agency. I believe that our combined talents can be used for the good of our small and beautiful world." She explains. Never heard of it. Though, I'm not in a position where The Woman in Silk would tell.

      "HIDRA is nothing but make-believe dreams by Headquarters. There has been little to no mention of it because there is no need for it. We live in a peaceful world, Miss Black. There is no threat and will be no threat great enough to start such initiative. Humans have always been unconfrontational and will stay that way as we continuously turn ourselves in for the greater good." Theodora nods her head as Luke continues. "Now, if you would like to turn yourself in, I see no reason not to give you a Checkup. I'm sure even Clara will give you a free one; her-" Luke finish his sentence with a high pitched and exaggerated scream. Kaide, fork in hand, holds tight onto the silverware, which is going through Luke's hand.

     "And what kind of threat would be required for HIDRA to emerge?" Theodora asks, tapping maroon colored nails on the table beside her cleaned plate. She pats her lips with a white tablecloth. Finally Kaide stops pulls the silver out of my brother's hand. A smirk develops on her face as she stares down at her nails like nothing was wrong. I push my chair back, readying to stand and fight. By the time I'm just squatting out of my chair, that girl is standing there, refilling a cup and blocking my way. "Please do sit, Seán. We are simply having a conversation." Theodora speaks. I sit back in my chair to eat my food. Attention goes back to Luke."I- I don't know!" Luke angrily whispers.

    A long silence builds as Kaide looks up from her nails and death glares everyone in the room. No one really knows what Theodora is planning to do if we decline. She's successfully evaded the law somehow. There must be a weapon in the room in case we turn. Visible sweat builds on Luke's forehead. It's the friction of the room. The heat is unbearable.

     There probably isn't too a serious threat in here right now, but I can help but feel one is hiding. This intense feeling always gets the best of me. Damn I wish I had a gun. As my grasp tightens, the shiny cutlery shakes in my hand. The girl puts her hand on mine which held the fork, and my hand momentarily falls still. A coolness comes from her hand into mine. When I look up to her, she's not even looking down. She finally moves her hand and offers a pastry. At Luke's side his walky-talky buzzes and a grizzly and muffled voice comes out. No one can understand what's being said, but I don't think anyone is really listening. The voice sounds frantic. Everyone was anxious enough in this room.

     "Please do get back to eating. You will stay the night. You will return home early morning. Please do report to me tomorrow." Theodora speaks and brushes her lap of non-existent crumbs. The girl must have left earlier without a sound. Theodora, following, leads the way out with Kaide following close behind. Shoony stands and holds the door open. "I apologize for such an -exhausting night. Please do hold out a little longer. The tour will be short, quick, and pai- and soon you'll be off to comfortable beds for rest." She says, no longer looking us directly in the eyes.

     Leaving through the swinging doors, we enter back into the stained glass entry. She leads us across into the one set which I have yet to see behind. A library, unending, greets us with books. They're worn and scattered all over desks and the floor. Some were nearly completely burned and others had markings in red with circles around pictures and words. Print was everywhere. The smell of ink and paper, so rare and untouched by outside hands. "Theodora told me to tell you all that you are welcome to reading any of these books and discovering the"-Luke cuts her off, "we'll pass. Possession of this kind of stuff is kinda illegal."

     Shoony, understanding the que, nods her head and leads the way out, taking us to the doors that lead to the stairs. "We'll be going upstairs. There, I will show you the ball room, bathing room, dress rooms, kitchens, piano study, and bedrooms." She solemnly says, dragging her feet up the stairs. What's downstairs? "Will that girl be up there?" I ask. "Chrixten? Why would you like to"-the girl cuts herself off and looks up at me with a sneaky expression. "Well, Chrixten works here as a maid. She gathers our ingredients fresh from the wild and masterfully prepares the most delicious meals, just like the one tonight. She protects us if we face any dangerous threats -but that rarely ever happens. She reads me bedtime stories, though she does need some work on her voice acting. She cleans around the mansion, a bit too much, and she does most of Auntie Theodora's collecting, bidding, and whatever we ask her to. I don't think there's ever been a time she hasn't done what we've asked. I'm not sure there's ever been a time when she hasn't wanted to. Well, she hasn't expressed it in the least. There's definitely a chance you'll see her again. Has she shown you her flower garden? Oh! It's such a beautiful place. Very... serene. Very surreal. I'm surprised they're even alive- I think they're fake." An excited tone is rekindled in her voice.

     And, so, the night ends with us resting in our individual guest rooms. I look out my window doors to the balcony which looks down to a lightless earth. Then, I lay down and rest, thinking about the mute maid, the unreadable criminal, the bitchy teen, the grown child, and the pastry I didn't take.

     I open my eyes to a dream- to a memory. The environment around was blurred and bright. From what I can tell, I'm in a small field. Barefoot and resting on soft and tall green pixelated grass, I look over to my left, and there they sat. The grass gently brushed against my calves. From the distance, I can see what looks like nothing but gravel. The young friend of my memory stares at me with bright empty eyes. They're grinning and watching everything I'm doing with great curiosity. They tilt their head mimicking my every movement as I observe them. They look about five, maybe four. I finally look at my own hand, it's small. I think in this memory I might be seven. They curl up into the fetal position, and they finally got tired of copying me, resting their head on their knees.

"Do you hate me?"

"no."

"Are you scared of me?"

"no."

"Do you love me?"

"...I don't know."

"That's okay. Just don't leave me."

Please.

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Everything must have a slash, a deep cut, a boom, that bang which keeps humanity awake. They doze off and wander to find something else that does if not. They become slothful and lack the realization thereof. They desire action. Physical, emotional, spiritual, ephemeral... and without such, life loses meaning. Without meaning, there is no purpose to living.

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I lift my sore face from my forearm and look around with hazy eyes. I'm sitting at.. at my desk? I rub my forehead and feel the imprint on my face from laying on something for too long. There was a rush as usual in Headquarters. But, there was something different in the look in their eyes. They looked panicked and excited. They were feeling some sense of thrill that I couldn't. My hand was holding on to something. My eyes slowly look over to it. The mug that has #1 BROTHER written onto the surface. It was actually #2 but Clara wrote #1 on top of it to "make me feel better." The Woman in Silk burst through her commissioner doors and rushes down the steps to my level. "WhereisyourbrotherIneedhimrightthisinstant. Tellhimtomeetusattheglassshop. This isof upmostimportance. Somethingisreaching thesurfacefrom thedarkestpits ofhell!" She says almost running out the building in her high heels. I shake my head. All I heard was your brother need to meet something reaching from the surface pits of hell.

I blink a couple times, and, by the eighth time, Headquarters is emptied. I lift out of my chair and turn to find only Page remaining. She's shaking more than usual, frantically uttering "oh no. No suree." I lift my hand up to slap her, then rethink. She shakes her head in reaction to my slap. Looking like she's just woke back into reality, she stutters, "Seán... what are you- doing here?" She could barely make out the question. "Where is everyone?" I ask. "They've all gone to the crime scene. The Woman in Silk t-told me that the scene indicates that this is no typical felon, but a very important individual of the past. A-a dangerous individual in the least." She looks around as if they could be anywhere around. Because of her constant anxious behavior, I forget she's pretty high up in rank, maybe she remembers something which levels like me don't know about. "Do we know anything else about the 'individual'?" I question her.

"Well- he left his calling card. A syringe with some mysterious black fluid inside. The Woman in Silk calls him The Doctor and tells me that the fluid inside is highly dangerous and contagious. Contagious of what disease, I'm unaware, but I'm sure it must be the chaos causing type." Page concludes to herself, speaking too fast for me to understand. Then, she drifts away to the front door, looking at and staring at nothing. I follow behind, and, outside, a crowd builds, curious and quiet. They don't ask what the Headquarters is doing; that might lead to remembering. They wander near, but they never look. I push through the malleable crowd and make my way to the colorful glass shop which I passed by yesterday morning. Though my clearance would not typically allow entrance, this was somehow different. Glass twinkles; light bounces, refracting through the cylinders and bowls of multicolored fresh glass chimes and pottery. Reflecting red, most importantly, red and black.

    I stood through the doorway and peered through to see what little was visible through the dangling objects. What I see, seemed so unreal. Just words I've put together to make sense of what is there. The blood spurting out of bodies sliced open, missing hands, feet, heads, the gore where guts dangled off glass chimes and rested in bowls like a serving of a raw meal of meat noodles, the arms, the legs, the heads all displaced into a display. An organization to catch the viewer's attention and shout "YOU ARE ALL WRONG", and that's just what it did, using the joints of arms and legs to bend into the perfect angles to make out letters and blood to accentuate the capitalization.

     My arms- my entire body shakes, and a lurching feeling climbs from my stomach to my throat. I can't say much about what I see. Something like this has never been committed in the history of humanity. The word for this never used. Murder. Murders. Of course, people who remember try to commit it, but they never succeed; we always caught them. My eyes water to the putrid stench which burns so deep. And yet. And yet I hear a voice, chuckling deep and maniacally. One which parallels mine own. That's it? That's all that's got people's panties in a wad? I glance around to see if anyone else heard, but everyone just stares in silence, in as much shock as I was. It must have just been in my head.