Book Two

 It was a cold winter night in the Possessor Capital. It was Seán's day out and he had decided to go with the others out to the club. Something he didn't typically do. Sitting on the armrest of a sofa, juggling his pistols, he looked out the ahead to the distance past the flashing lights, past the bodies swaying to the cacophony of song and excitable chatter of another battle well won. 
The same thing had happened today as happens every day he goes out into battle; he wins. He wants a challenge; something that will liven up his boring narrative of a life. It's always the same thing, the crowds cheering, the girls throwing signs of love, then men being jealous of his success. Sometimes it just gets boring. 
But tonight no one dared to come near him. They knew better; they had the ability to judge, not character but aura. Tonight, he had decided to hide nothing. As he stood up, the implied silence that once lingered enveloped the room at his changing presence, unbroken till a crooked laugh from across the room is heard along with the shuffling of tables and bodies and chairs. 
Rockchester, Rocket for short, entropically makes his way over to Seán. "Where are ya going, buddy pal?" He asks; his indoor raspy voice booming. "I'm bored." Seán replies, leaving the building without waiting for reply.
    Out in the white cold, Seán looked about the empty city. Not a soul lives here, only eight individuals visit regularly. Seán's phone buzzes and he decides to pick up the call for once. "Where did you go?" Diamond's voice of demeaning elegance speaks through the speaker. "Out to start something. Wanna come?" He says, listening to her grumbling on the other side. "... allow me consider my options: stay here where there is heat, hot coco, and other necessities... or go down where you'll raise hell and get us in trouble?" She sarcastically considers. "At least hell's hot." Seán replies and ends the call.
     Walking along through the snow, Seán looked through the night sky. The view is vague here. Rectangle buildings, empty streets, starless navy, and a tower stabbing a hole through it. As he watched forward, he herd panting. He strolled around a corner between buildings where he found the origin of the sound: an arc-shaped wall made of ice and, behind it, a girl. Caramel skin, long hair whiter than the snow, short, skinny, black pants, black top. On her side hip was a brown satchel bag, later turning out to have the symbol of the Syndicate on the top; two snakes encompassing a cross and making the appearance of "StS". 
Noticing his presence, the girl spun around and faces him; he expectantly cracks his neck. "They only send their best for missions this deep in the world." He thinks. While turning around, she placed the satchel on the ground. She put her hands up in the air then lowers them down to the ground. As she does so, the ice melts with her movement. As it does so, she gathers a clear view of the eyes of a man that parallels that of the ice that burns yet evaporates. 
She then took two momentary steps back and charged at Seán; as she did so, Seán reached for his gun loaded it and aimed, but, instead of punching him, she jumped high in the air and grabbed his head from behind, shoving him down into the snow. No bullet was fired. He saw her face. She saw his. Two paths were carved in the snow of items sliding through it at a distance. "Ow." He said as he rolled over and got to his knees. The girl picked up one of the items that slipped from her grasp and had gone back to her satchel and kneeled down to pick it up. "-hey! Wait!" He reaches out his arm and shouts, as he watches the girl's body dissipate into black shadows and then nothingness. "Damnit!" He slams his fist into the snow. Was it all for show? He asks himself looking into his fist. As he heads home, he wonders more; not how or why he failed to get her, but rather what was in her satchel.

It was soon found out that the satchel carried a head, delivered to the tower for the Possessors.

~

"Jordan, you're... different from other kids" mother reminds me. Always reminding me. I roll my eyes and try for an eighth time to put my bob into a ponytail. Ugh! If my head weren't so round it'd work, I swear! "Are you even listening?" She asks me in a scolding voice. It wasn't the first time Jordan had been held back from a group by her mother, only because of her differences. She wasn't special like her siblings, that's why they were all sent away to special school and she was stuck with mother. "...What I'm trying to say is"-Jordan interrupts her mother to avoid another long lecture. "I get it ma, don't go on the trip with your class!" Patting Jordan's head in approval, her mother moves on to the kitchen, reminding Jordan to not forget to speak with her father before she leaves for school." Despite her mother's wishes, Jordan decides she will go on the trip and runs out the house without having breakfast and grabbing her book bag. She wanted to see the capital. 
As she walked, she thought of her brothers and sisters and even that pesky Chrixten. "I don't see why I am complaining, ever since the continents connected, people who lived far outside the main city suffered; the closer you are to the capital, the better life is. They went to a school farther out, and I haven't seen them sense. It's probably worse there, and that's why I wasn't invited. Although, I've never been down there... but I'm sure it's much nicer in the capital. People with different clothes, hair styles, colors everywhere, pretty much everything different!" She reassured herself.
Arriving in her homeroom, she turns in her permission sheet, forged signature and all. The teacher at his desk looked at stared at Jordan in silence, but finally he had decided to break the silence. "What would you like to do?" His voice was shaken and full of fear and a whistle came from his large and crooked nose at each word he spoke, typical. It was a weird question for the start of the day, but Jordan didn't pay much attention to it. She only stayed in silence with her arms crossed and moved on to sit in the desk beside her friend, Clara. The teacher, thin, cleared his voice and adjusted his tie to assert more authority over the class. He wipes sweat off his forehead and speaks again, "Let's get on he bus." His voice was two octaves higher, and it made Jordan and Clara almost laugh, but she stifled it; it only came out as a snicker. 
Together they stood up and left the class room. In the hall, they could see other class rooms were having lessons, and every time Jordan walked by a room, everyone would become silent and only stare at the window of the door. She'd stick her tongue out and laugh with Clara at their jealous empty expressions. "I'm not going to miss this place." She informed Clara in a whisper.
Had she known what would happen at home that day, had she been there before the fire, had she gotten home before her siblings had, maybe things would be different in the path she had chosen to live, maybe she'd still have her parents, her siblings. Regardless, she still hates that bastard Chrixten.