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Fiction » Young Adult » Fall From Grace font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: springish
Fiction Rated: T - English - Sci-Fi/Romance - Reviews: 4 - Published: 03-09-07 - Updated: 03-11-07 - id:2331144

Then you will return to the ground from which you came. For you were made from dust, and to the dust you will return. (Genesis 3:19)


Fall From Grace
- Enna -


NEW NATIONS (AUSTRALIA), 3080 CE

Cecily Warbick stretched languidly in her chair and rubbed her eyes sleepily. It was late and she’d just spent the better part of her night going through the rules and guidelines of her acceptance letter to the Port Hedland Institute of Journalism.

She bit her bottom lip as she remembered her father’s cautionary words. He was a professor of commerce at the Aldford Academe and had encouraged her to follow the same path. The rest of the world, he’d said, didn’t appreciate the media. It was a dirty job and one that compromised the world’s security and confidentiality. He’d quoted Niklas Aldford there.

Commerce, Professor Warbick had explained, wasn’t like the way it had been a millennium ago. It was far more complex now due to the restrictions and safety procedures that came hand-in-hand with trading outside of the New Nations; thus it was, in essence, a highly respected, financially secure career path.

One Cecily couldn’t fathom choosing.

“Here.”

Zachary Chalfont handed her a mug of hot chocolate, shaking her from her reverie, and she took it gratefully. Zach was three years her senior, one of her father’s students. She hadn’t thought much of him when he’d first begun appearing at her doorstep, seeking guidance from her father every fortnight, but they’d evolved into steadfast friends over the years and now she couldn’t imagine life without him. She’d even told him about her identity as one of The Trained despite the organisation’s code to maintain the utmost secrecy.

He sighed.

“You’ve just graduated from high school. You’re young, you’re pretty, and you’re spending your Friday night cooped up in your room, going through the intricate details of some university your dad will do his best to keep you from attending anyway.” Zach shook his head woefully, making himself comfortable against the foot of her bed. “Where did I go wrong with you, Cess? Seriously.”

She blew over the top of her mug and grinned at him. “Not all of us can be out partying every night, Mr. I’m-the-sole-heir-to-Chalfont-Enterprises-and-one-of-the-most-sought-after-bachelors-in-the-whole-of-Launceston.” She blew out a deep breath.

“In the world, Cess,” he corrected, looking wounded. “One of the most sought after bachelors in the world.

“And why,” she laughed, snagging a cushion from her bed and throwing it at him with pathetic accuracy. It landed on the floor with a thwump, a good few metres from its intended destination. “Why, may I ask, is one of the most sought after bachelors in the world hanging out with a seventeen-year-old high school graduate on a Friday night, watching her go through the intricate details of some university her dad will do his best to keep her from attending anyway?” She raised an eyebrow in challenge.

One Zach met with a lazy smile. “’Coz you’re cute.”

Anybody else might have swooned at his words.

Cecily rolled her eyes.

She’d heard him use similar lines on countless women before, wooing them with his effortless charm and maddening smirk. It was lucky then, she conceded, that he was nothing more than the protective older brother she had never asked for but was glad she’d gotten anyway. If their relationship had not been purely platonic she was sure she’d go insane.

Not pretty.

“So anyway.” Zach eyed the cushion on the floor and reached over to snag it from his position against the foot of her bed. “That throw was piss-wea – sorry –” She shot him a glare; she hated when he used foul language “– that throw was terrible. And you’re one of the government’s ‘top secret weapons?’ That’s very,” he paused, trying to find the right word. “Disturbing. Very disturbing.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, idly moving the computer’s cursor around the screen. “I’m one of, like, thousands. So it’s highly unlikely that I’m actually ever going to have to do anything. Besides, I’m seventeen.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think I only get an assignment when I turn eighteen. Or something. I can’t really remember.”

She took a sip of her drink and made a face. “Blegh. Too much sugar.”

There was a loud ‘ding’ as her Anti-Virus program kick-started itself into action and began running through her files. “Man,” she sighed, peering at her computer mournfully. “I think I have a virus again. Stupid computer. It’s 3080. You’d think we’d have some nifty high-tech stuff, you know?”

“Yeah, well.” A shrug. “Seventy years isn’t really a lot of time to recoup the world’s losses, if you think about it. At least, compared to over what? An entire millennium worth of technology and scientific breakthroughs. You ever pay attention in your history classes?”

Evidently not.

She raised a shoulder, clearly uninterested. “Yeah, yeah. Save me the speech.”

He yawned, stretched, yawned again. “I’m bored.

“Yeah?” she demanded gruffly, watching file names flash before her eyes. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“I’m bored,” he whined again, poking her side in the way he knew she hated. “Do something.”

She tore her attention away from the computer screen and shot him an exasperated look. “I swear, for a twenty-year-old, you sure act like such a little brat. Do I look like a circus performer to you? I don’t think so. I’m a high school graduate with prestigious awards in both English and Media but I’m not a circus performer.”

He looked unconvinced. “So you’re saying that…you have all these special abilities but you can’t, like, you know, go whoosh, fire!” He demonstrated with flailing hands and she couldn’t help wishing she had a video camera to tape him. Let the girls see what kind of juvenile they swooned over.

“Ummm…well, I actually chose to specialise in all things earth-related so, yeah, no fire.” She shrugged.

“And nobody taught you anything?

She shook her head.

“Oh man,” he groaned. “The world is doomed.

She leaned back in her chair, slightly affronted. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Well, I mean, nobody taught you anything and - ”

“Okay,” she conceded, rolling her eyes. He had never been this interested before. “Fine. When I was thirteen, I was sent a mentor. Underwent rigorous training for a little over a year and learnt how to handle basic operative measures."

“Only basic?”

“Well he said that skill comes with experience. I guess he meant that I’d get better every time I handled an assignment, which, hopefully, I won’t have to handle at all. I mean, they assign operatives depending on how geographically close they are to the client or the problem area.” A pause. “You wouldn’t exactly consider Launceston as heaving with crime or conspiracy, would you? And there are probably other more well-suited Trained in the area too.”

“Yeah.” Zach seemed to deflate at the notion. “I guess so.”

She raised a fine brow. “You want me to have an assignment?”

“Well, I mean.” Zach raised a shoulder. “Don’t get me wrong. You know I wouldn’t want you to die. But, you know, right now, I’m kinda, well, bored.”

As if that justified his wanting to put her in the line of danger. She rolled her eyes.

“But hey,” he brightened. “Do you still keep in contact with your mentor?”

She had the rather perturbing image of Zach making prank phone calls at the expense of the rather strict, martial organisation and inwardly cringed. If he weren’t careful he’d end up asphyxiated or burned or whatever other methods of murder the other Trained could choose to impose on somebody as foolish as Zach could often be.

“No.”

“Why not?” he demanded, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Where is he now?”

“I don’t know.” Really, she could care less. Although, there had been a certain point in her life when it was all she could think about. But she was seventeen now, about to embark on the next chapter of her life, and the last thing she needed was to be reminded of the past.

“So you haven’t tried contacting him since he left?”

She shook her head. “He left kind of abruptly. Didn’t even say goodbye. I don’t think it would have been in his mind to leave contact details.”

“Okay, so…what? One day he was just there, teaching you how to, I don’t know, choke people to death with vines – ” she remembered that lesson “ – and the next, he was gone?”

A nod.

“So let’s find out his details now. They have a registry for that kind of thing.” She loved how matter-of-fact he was about things like this. He was the sole heir to the only organisation that dealt with providing their world with necessary imports from the dangerous lands surrounding its borders. Thus everything – respect, wealth, power – had always come so easily to him that ‘impossible’ was an alien concept.

But she’d thought of that, hadn’t she? To consult the registry, because he couldn’t just leave after he’d spent more than a year teaching her how to – to manipulate earth to her will, not when she still hadn’t grasped the concept that she – Cecily Warbick – could belong to a clandestine organisation, that she was one of the government’s ‘top secret weapons’, as Zach had put it. Not when she needed him, had developed a strange sort of dependence on his expertise, an affection that –

No. She refused to think about it.

“He lied about his name,” she explained rather flatly, though she’d tried to keep her tone neutral. “I don’t know who he really is and there’s no way for me to get in contact with him. I think he meant it that way.”

Zach looked outraged. “Bastard!”

A rueful smile graced her lips. “That’s what I said.”


By the light of the moon, nineteen-year-old Jared Radetsky stole up the garden path, inhaling the sweet scent of peony and lotus that invaded his senses. He could hear the clinking glasses and the tinkling laughter from within the Rambatan mansion – the sounds of a party going well past midnight.

For a brief moment, he entertained the thought of knocking on the door and introducing himself as Rashida Rambatan’s security guard for the night. He was parched.

She’d let him in, too. He was Jared Alexander Radetsky after all, Gregovich Radetsky’s pride and joy. The next world leader following his grandfather’s reign. It made his skin tingle.

But tonight, he was one of The Trained. A clandestine organisation designed to protect their clients at all costs. Each Trained member underwent rigorous training under the guidance of an assigned mentor. Gregovich Radetsky had been his. Jared had been his grandfather’s very last pupil, so adamant he had been that his only grandson should learn from the very best. It had taken Jared seven years to master his abilities and it had only been at the age of fifteen that he had finally been able to choose a key element to harness.

As a final examination, he himself had been given a student to mentor – a bright young girl two years his junior. She was one of two Trained members of whom he knew the identity, for only a select few knew the identities of every single Trained member.

He was not one of them.

His grandfather was. His grandfather knew their identities, their history, their living status – hell, he knew it all, as was his job. As well as making up one-fifth of the World Five, he had also been delegated the unenviable job of Minister of Defence. As far as the rest of the world knew, he was the man who kept their borders safe from the lands outside of the New Nations.

They didn’t know that he kept a special army solely for the most prestigious people of their world. They chose to ignore the fact that there were people who lived among them who weren’t exactly ‘normal.’ Who possessed an X-linked trait that allowed them to tap into a power far beyond their limited imaginations.

For the sole purpose of keeping the people satisfied of their safety, Gregovich Radetsky kept troops stationed at every point. He needn’t have bothered. The island their world revolved around was isolated. Excepting a few other islands that belonged neither to the New Nations nor to the lands outside it, their world was their own.

If Jared remembered his schooling correctly, the island should have gone by the name of Australia. An island, a continent, a country. Now it was their world.

And one day it would be his.

Jared started as a deliberate crunch of leaves snapped him back to the present.

“Daydreaming?”

Nadine Whittaker’s lips formed a teasing grin as she placed a hand against her hip, displaying her curves in a figure-hugging black bodysuit. It made her stealthier, she often said. It made him want to marry her on the spot. She was twenty-one, a distant relation to Niklas Aldford, and the other of the two Trained members whose identities Jared knew. She was also his fiancée. Had been for two years.

“This is my assignment,” he told her. Not that he was complaining. Sometimes waiting for an assassination attempt was boring as hell and, once he’d made the easy kill, he’d have to wait another few hours should there be others. At least Nadine would be here to keep him company while he waited. Busy while he waited. A slow grin smoothed out his features.

She shook her head, her white-blonde tresses dancing about her shoulders.

“Get that smirk off your face, loverboy. As much as I would love to have wild, passionate sex with you, we’ve got a job to do.”

She flexed her fingers and carefully laid out her throwing stars along the stone bench. She preferred them, even if she was blessed with the ability to do…other things. He had to admit, they were amusing to watch. She had chosen fire as her key element and the shurikens proved either deadly or entertaining weapons. The choice of adjective depended on whether or not you were on the receiving end when the stars were thrown.

“We?” He raised his eyebrows.

Nadine shrugged.

“My great-uncle said you might need some help.” There was something amiss with that statement. Niklas Aldford wasn’t the type to willingly send his family members – distant, as they may have been – into the line of fire.

Jared frowned. “You’re lying.” He checked to ensure the party was still going uninterrupted. Soft music drifted toward them and he sat back in satisfaction. He hadn’t failed an assignment yet and he wasn’t about to start now.

Besides, using his earth-linked capabilities, he’d wired mental links throughout the area - a mental tripwire of sorts. The intruder would activate one as soon as he stepped onto the property and they’d be alerted immediately. He hadn’t been so stupid as to rely solely on his sense of sight. That was amateur.

“Come on, Radetsky,” she pleaded. “I haven’t had an assignment in months. Ever since he found out that I’m Trained, my great-uncle hasn’t let me near a single one. When I heard that you’d be here tonight, I thought it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

His shoulders slumped in defeat when he saw that she’d already snapped on her gloves and had reached for her balaclava. Whatever he said now, she wouldn’t listen. It was far better that she worked with him rather than if she got in the way. Not, he conceded, that she would be a hindrance. She was tough, he had to give her that. And she was good.

“Alright,” he sighed. He wondered if he had enough time to fill her in – decided that he did. “There was an alert a couple of hours ago. About an attempt on Rashida Rambatan’s life. Something against her bill about offering an exchange program to the people outside of the New Nation borders. You know how she’s always been fond of education for all.”

Nadine exhaled. “Shit,” she breathed. “I’m not in favour of the bill either, but there’s no need to murder her for it. Great-uncle and the others would rather die before they’d let it pass, anyhow. Did they tell you anything else?”

She hoped they hadn’t. The less information she knew, the more fun she had with the job. Sometimes she liked to guess at the killer’s method for murder. It kept her on her toes.

Jared shook his head. The golden eyes she loved so much gleamed at her from behind his balaclava. His father had been the son of a Chinese ambassador. Not that a China existed anymore. At least, not that anybody really knew.

He loathed his eyes – couldn’t work out why she liked them so much. As far as he was concerned, his father had been a coward who had left his mother when he’d found out that she was pregnant. After having already given birth to an X-linked child. That’s what they called them. X-linked children. And his father couldn’t stand the thought that he’d fathered a - a mutant. Couldn’t stand waiting around to see if he’d fathered another.

He couldn’t stand the thought that he could resemble the coward in any way. If he ever found him he’d murder him without hesitation.

“So it should be cut and dry,” he informed her. “As soon as the killer sets foot on the grounds, we intercept him. And Rashida Rambatan can enjoy her gathering, none the wiser.” He couldn’t keep the boredom from his tone. It was all too easy, really. The killers were amateur and…completely average. And with his supernatural capabilities, Jared Radetsky had long since stopped thinking of them as much of a challenge.

He couldn’t blame them, really. Subsequent to the war, all the technology that had ever been achieved over the past millennium had been lost, destroyed, now only relics of the civilisation that had almost succeeded in annihilating itself. The people were left to rely on the primitive technology of the twenty-first century. It was pitiful.

“It would be terrible if she died,” Nadine mused. “She doesn’t have an heir. It would throw the system out of whack.”

Jared’s grin was wry. “Not that your great-uncle would be one to complain. It’s no secret that they’ve always been at each other’s throats. Though, of course, they keep it hush-hush under the public eye. Sometimes I think he’d be happier if he did it all himself.” It was true.

Ever the egotist, Jared recalled a time when Niklas Aldford had demanded that the names of states and cities given to their world centuries before should be altered to emphasise the authority the World Five wielded over the people. The other four – even Yukio Kurosawa, who was usually quick to second him – had vetoed his proposal for the sake of convenience. And rightfully so. Jared didn’t think he’d be able to manage living in a city, much less a state, named after the vain and calculating Minister of Finances.

Aware of her great-uncle’s domineering tendencies but having been brought up valuing strong familial loyalty, Nadine chose to ignore his slight and cocked her head to the side “What’s the order?”

“Kill within sight. Others have tried this twice before. We let them go each time but, frankly, grandpa’s getting sick of the bastards. It’s a waste of our time, really.”

She nodded, snapping her hair back with an elastic. She hated blood getting into it. It was incredibly tiresome to get out. Expensive too.

“Got it. After so long, this is going to be so much -”

A link snapped within Jared’s head. The tripwire. He held his hand up to silence her and she complied, watching him curiously.

“He’s here, isn’t he?” At his assent, she strapped her stars to her side, her movements fluid and graceful. Jared admired the way her long, shapely legs were accentuated by her bodysuit. He had her fondness for stealth to thank for that.

“You’ll have plenty of time to look at my arse later.” She hadn’t even needed to turn around. “I’ll take the back, you can patrol the front.”

That was sneaky. The intruder would most probably enter through the back and they both knew it. He didn’t protest, knowing just how much she must have craved the rush of adrenaline that came with a kill.

He chuckled to himself as she broke into a run and disappeared behind the corner of the mansion a few seconds later, her hips swaying. God, he loved her. She understood him, all of him. Not just the part of him that spent late nights with blood on his fingers, watching the light fade from a target’s eyes, but the part of him that stood behind his grandfather as he made speeches to his people as cameras flashed in his face too.

As he made his own inspection, his eyes narrowed as a sudden pinprick of light caught his attention, hovering a metre or so above the garden path. He blinked and peered closer; saw nothing. A trick of the light, maybe. Or an intruder?

He crept closer, staying hidden in the shadows of the hedges. It wasn’t wise to use his abilities to teleport from one place to another. It was easier and quicker, yes, but definitely not wise. If it weren’t an intruder but a lone partygoer, his cover would be blown and that was something Jared Radetsky wouldn’t risk. Secret identities were what kept The Trained efficient and under control.

It kept them safe.

He caught a glimpse of the pinprick again and, this time, made out the rather bulky frame of a man casually shuffling along the garden path. He didn’t think the man suspected he was being watched – or followed, for that matter.

Stealth. Jared prided himself on it, just as much as Nadine was obsessed with it.

The man was by the fountain now, with a clear view of the mansion. Water jetted out of the cherub’s mouth, cascading down the marble tiers and rippling coolly at the bottom, where wishful coins gleamed beneath the water. People still made wishes in fountains, Jared thought with distaste. He’d read about the tradition in one of his history books and marveled at how something so trivial could follow the people into a completely new world order.

The openness of the area made it difficult for Jared to get any closer without being seen but he strained his eyes, watching carefully.

Make a move, he willed the man. Any move and I can make mine.

It all came down to what the man did next. If he headed back inside to where the party was still in full swing, Jared could resume his prowling. Anything else and his suspicions would be confirmed. The man was tonight’s assassin and he’d barely have time to register Jared’s presence before he was dead, he would see to that.

He stiffened.

The man’s mobile phone had rung out a ghastly little tune that Jared recognised as being the latest hit from the newest female singing sensation of the year – Nadine had even choreographed some crazy dance steps to it – and the man hastened to receive the call, flipping the device to his ear.

His replies were barely audible against the gushing fountain and Jared strained to hear. As he waited for a suspicious word – any signal, really, that the man was more harmful than merely being the owner of an incredibly annoying ring tone – he willed a few vines to begin creeping along the garden path. The man had his back toward him, making redundantly wild gestures, unaware of the vines that had snaked toward him under the cover of darkness, poised for attack.

“No, nobody,” he seemed to be saying to the person on the other end of the conversation. A pause. “ – time to say goodbye to Rashida Rambatan - ”

The vines found their victim, twisting and snaking around the man’s legs and rendering him immobile.

“What the - ”His phone dropped to the ground with a sharp clatter.

“Don’t move,” Jared warned, stepping forward into the man’s line of sight. It struck him how pointless his warning was. He stooped and pocketed the phone, making a mental note to check the caller identification – it was mandatory for everybody in the new nations to be registered – once he had dealt with the intruder. Whoever was on the other end was obviously a key conspirator in this whole business; maybe he could silence these attempts on Rashida Rambatan’s life once and for all.

The man’s voice rose in indignation despite his apparent disadvantaged position. “Look, buddy. I have no idea who the hell you are or what you’re trying to pull, but me? I was invited to this thing and I’m going to make sure that complaints are made.”

“No kidding,” he replied dryly. “And I didn’t just hear you saying it was time to say goodbye to Rashida Rambatan?”

The man blinked, shot him a ‘duh’ look that Jared had misguidedly believed only teenagers could perfect.

“It is time for me to say goodbye to Rashida Rambatan. My boat leaves Port Darwin tomorrow morning for godsakes.” He paused and turned his head, taking a moment to regard the plant that had constricted around his entire arm and was slowly creeping around his neck. His upper lip curled in distaste. “I know who you are. You’re one of those X-linked kids. Planning to assassinate Rashida Rambatan?”

Jared bristled in irritation at the accusation. The man’s charade was beginning to bore him. Maybe, he conceded, in this case it would have been better if he’d killed him on the spot; he’d always preferred to utilise a few intimidation tactics on the intruders – after all, he’d had to give up his night to lie in wait for them; didn’t he deserve a little fun? – but this was quite ridiculous. He hadn’t planned on exchanging so many words with his victim.

“No,” he said. “I’m here to protect Rashida Rambatan. Not that it should matter to you. You’ll be dead soon anyway.”

He drew out his stiletto dagger – a gift from his grandfather when he’d successfully completed his first assignment – relishing the thought of a kill. Like Nadine’s shurikens, his weapon was affected by his key element – earth – and it would amuse him, for a while at least, to watch the man suffer. He’d let his abilities seep fatal juices through his dagger and into the man’s veins and he’d be dead in an excruciating five minutes.

Normally he would have snapped his neck, quick and painlessly, with the vines. Nadine would call him a bastard but the man deserved tonight’s method of choice, for wasting his time like this.

The man’s eyes widened as he noticed Jared’s weapon.

“W-wait,” he stammered. “If what you’re saying is true – though doubtful, but, as you can see, I’m in no position to argue – I’m London Jensch, an ambassador for New Zealand -” the name was unfamiliar to Jared “- Rashida Rambatan invited me here to discuss matters over her bill – ”

Jared eyed him shrewdly. “Let me see your Veri-Chip,” he ordered.

Every single New Nations citizen had been implanted with a tiny chip embedded beneath the skin, identifying each individual and providing dates, statistics and any other essential information in a holographic window that materialised when a ‘trigger’ was activated. Any visitors were tagged with one for temporary usage until their departure.

Only the members of the World Five had the authority to implant or remove them and it was extremely difficult to mimic the technology. He didn’t know of anybody who had ever succeeded, although there had been a few who had come close and had been dealt with accordingly. It was a system that, as of yet, had worked without fail – Niklas Aldford always did say that the Kurosawa technology was revolutionary. It was one of the few devices that resembled their current century.

Jared’s hand encircled the man’s wrist and pressed firmly against his pressure point.

Within seconds, a light blue holographic window had materialised and his mouth fell slack as he recognised the man’s tanned face and glittering dark eyes in the image.

“London Jensch,” he read out, scrolling through the information. “Appointed ambassador for the nation of New Zealand, one-thousand-six-hundred kilometres outside of the New Nation borders. Visitor’s pass expires in eight hours, fifty-five minutes and thirty-seven seconds.”

He froze, the vines loosening their stranglehold on the man and slithering away. “Shit.

The error was repairable. A lengthy memory wipe by an experienced Trained operative would suffice and Jared could easily get his grandfather to comply, but the fact was that he, Jared Radetsky, had just made an inexcusable error that could have – and should have – been avoided. And this meant that there was still a potential intruder lurking within the Rambatan grounds.

Gregovich Radetsky would not be impressed.

Jensch smoothed down imaginary crumples in his suit with an air of exaggerated disdain. “I’m going to have to make complaints,” he informed him – rather self-righteously too, Jared noted with contempt – and he was thankful for the balaclava that hid his features from view.

“I - ”

“Hey.” Nadine emerged beside him in a momentary flash of red light, her tone annoyed and slightly muffled beneath her own balaclava.

Jensch’s eyes widened momentarily, appearing lighter than they had only a moment before. “There are two of you?”

Jared turned his back on him.

“Nobody was around the back,” she reported. “I made three rounds.” Her eyes flickered to Jensch, regarding him curiously. “So this must be him. You always get the fun.” He could hear the pout in her voice. “And you haven’t you dealt with him yet, I see. Wonderful.”

Jared’s brow creased at her declaration.

“Are you sure you didn’t notice anything strange at the back? His Veri-Chip confirms his identity as an ambassador from beyond our borders. We may have to undergo a lengthy memory wipe but - ”

He trailed off, ice pooling into his gut. If Nadine hadn’t found the intruder then –

The first thing he heard was a deafening rush of water that muffled the sound of his fiancés startled yell.

He twisted to face the source, but countless daggers of cold-hard ice had already found their target, penetrating his lower back and sending excruciating pain shooting through his spine and throughout his entire body.

His legs buckled beneath him and his senses seemed to blur.

He thought he saw Nadine reach instinctively for her stars, thought he heard her screaming out his name, thought he could taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue as his body screamed for release and he fought desperately for consciousness.

Granddad’s gonna be so pissed, he thought, not entirely lucid, before slumping to the ground.

And then, mercifully, darkness.


Fun fact: The date (minus the year, of course) used for the initial meeting between the World Five leaders in the prologue has personal significance. It’s the date that a good friend of mine left for her home country and I miss her terribly. Sooo… I thought I’d put a personal little tribute in here.

That aside, did anybody pick up on Jared and Nadine’s somewhat flippant attitude, despite the seriousness of their assignment?

Those who have read the original version of this chapter will probably know something that other’s don’t – if this is the case, I implore you not to give anything away!

Any problems with the text, please let me know, and I’ll be quite happy to oblige or at least provide an explanation.



© Copyright 2007 springish (FictionPress ID:204295).


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