Chapter One

The encounter was flawless and neither of them missed a beat. The wine that spilled on his shirt was such a cliché thing, but perhaps they were playing on his wife's tendency to plan for the what-ifs because a newly pressed and folded shirt emerged from her large bag. The man excused himself from his small audience and went to the bathroom. The other man – who seemed to be playing the role as the drunk-- managed to bump into a few more people before stumbling and gripping onto the arm of some man he probably knew by face and not by name. It was only natural for the man to help him up, a simple gesture, but as he stood straight no one noticed as his hand reached for the ID badge clipped onto the man's jacket. He put it into his own pocket and continued on his merry way without so much as a slight change in character.

My eyes watched the retreating figure of the man. If all the events of the last couple of months never had happened I might not have noticed such a small thing. If I had never experienced what I had I wouldn't have seen it at all. I would've seen people—very important people-- enjoying themselves at a birthday party. But I had gone through all those things, I was pretty sure I had experienced them all, and the spy (technically spy-in-training) in me told me that there was definitely something going on.

I managed to divert the focus of my attention back to my father in time to catch him about to introduce me to tonight's birthday celebrant: Mr. William S. Conwell.

"Karin this is Mr. Conwell, Mr. Conwell this is my daughter Karin."

We shook hands and he smiled at me. I smiled back.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Karin. You know I owe your father my life. Has he ever told you the story?"

"No, he hasn't."

There were a lot of people who owed my dad their life. Many of those people were unnamed and without a face in my mind. Of course I was curious about these people and curious to the adventures of my dad, but I thought it would be a waste of time to ask because I knew he'd never give me an answer.

"Well you see . . . " But before he could begin my father stopped him by grasping his shoulder.

"Perhaps another time, William. You have many other guests to attend to." Maybe he noticed my earlier discomfort when a retired Marine wouldn't stop enlightening me on the various meals-- or possible meals-- he encountered while in service. To tell the truth, I wasn't exactly ready to hear another tale.

Instead of complying he put an arm around my dad's shoulder and said, "Nonsense! There's always time for a good story!" And he began, but I hadn't paid attention much.

Mr. Conwell was known for his warm personality and his ability to connect with people instantly. When he entered the political world those skills came in handy quite well and he became quite popular. I didn't really like politicians, but this guy seemed pretty okay. He had three children, who I'm sure loved him as a dad. He had a daughter who was eighteen, a son who was fifteen, and a younger daughter who was eleven. There wasn't too much news about these kids, just a few things here and there. Their mother, unfortunately, passed away on nine-eleven.

Because I hadn't paid attention to what he was telling us I managed to look like I was. I chuckled when they laughed and smiled when they grinned. Just when it seemed like he was about to reach the most climactic part of the story, one of his personal guards came over and whispered something into his ear. His expression changed instantly, but it was only for a few seconds because a smile once again appeared on his lips.

"I'm really sorry, but I have to take care of some business. Maybe we can finish this story another time," he patted my dad on the shoulder and shook my hand once more, "again, it was really nice meeting you Karin." Then he left with his guard and disappeared among the mingling guests.

Dad sighed and looked over at me. "At least pretend like you're enjoying yourself."

"I am."

"I thought I taught you better acting skills than that."

"Then I guess you aren't a good teacher."

He let out another sigh as we walked around the grand ballroom. It reminded me of another night at another time. During that time, I thought things were great and they'd stay that way . . . but looks can be deceiving. I had found that out the hard way. I shook my head, and broke any lingering thoughts of the past free from my mind. I swept my gaze across all the guests in the room and for a moment as dad and I walked through the guests towards our table.

While I wasn't looking someone managed to to bump into me and caused me to stumble a bit. I caught myself and glanced at who it was. I was able to see their face, but only for a second. His dark hair fell over his olive green eyes that seemed so cold, yet so inviting at the same time. Even though he had looked away and disappeared amongst the people in the room, I still stared after him as if I were afraid I'd forget his face completely. Why was I so interested in a person I hadn't even met (or saw much of for that matter)?

"Karin, are you okay?"

I looked over to my father and nodded slowly. "Yeah, I just . . . "

"You just?"

"I was just . . . ah, never mind it."

We were about to sit down when Mr. Conwell suddenly reappeared behind us. He tapped on my father's shoulder and he smiled at both of us when we turned around to face him. I smiled back softly, as did my father, but there was something different about his smile. It seemed tight and faked, like he wasn't as happy to see Mr. Conwell like he was a few minutes before. I ignored it (not completely though) and figured it was just him growing tired and irritated of the party scene.

"Jonathan, can I ask something of you?"

"Sure. What is it William?"

"I just wanted to know if you and Karin would like to see something new I've developed. No one else has seen it yet, so consider it a real treat," Mr. Conwell said with a wink and a grin.

"Of course. It would be an honor, Will."

- x . x . x -

The personal guards that usually surrounded Mr. Conwell had been left behind the yellow "Do Not Cross" tape line (by order of Mr. Conwell himself) and the three of us continued beyond it down the large hallway. Every now and then the lights flickered on and off, but Mr. Conwell assured us it was because of the storm that had picked up outside. He also said that some of the house was still under construction, so a bit of the wiring still needed work. He walked ahead of us, leading the way, while Dad and I trailed behind him quietly as he pointed out the structural art of his home. Personally, I was excited to see something Mr. Conwell had developed himself, although it didn't seem like my father shared the same enthusiasm. He walked with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, as if he were drilling small holes into the back of Mr. Conwell's head with his pupils (he would give me the same look if I were being scolded).

Whenever the man looked back at us to speak, my father's expression would immediately change to that of complete interest in Mr. Conwell's words. My Dad would smile and nod as if he were actually into what ever the man was saying (but my father was great at hiding things). Finally, I managed to nudge my Dad when Mr. Conwell's back was turned and looked up at him.

"Is there something wrong . . . ?" I asked in a soft whisper, "you seem a little . . . on edge."

He didn't say anything for a moment and I figured that he wouldn't say anything at all. He was always one to keep things to himself. I had gotten used to it over the years, it was just another part of him that made him my father. But if he did have something to say to you he wouldn't beat around the bush. He'd be perfectly frank about it. Most of the time I didn't mind, it was much more effective than explaining small details that didn't even matter. There were times though where I wished he had eased me into the point rather than just putting it out there.

"That's not Mr. Conwell," he told me quickly and quietly.

If any other person would had said that to me I would've never believed them. I would have told them they were wrong and were just paranoid (that or just plain crazy). But this wasn't any other person . . . this was one of the people I looked up to in my life. I had no choice but to trust him, but I needed to make sure he wasn't hallucinating in his old age.

"Are you sure?"

"Are you really asking me that?"

Touché.

"What are you two whispering about back there?" Mr. Fake asked us with a grin, "you aren't talking about my horrendous bald spot on the back of my head are you?"

Honestly, I couldn't have told you the differences between this Mr. Conwell and the one we had met previously (the "real" one). Either I was getting rusty or this guy was experienced and seriously good at what he did (I'm guessing the latter).

"Karin wanted to know where the bathroom was," my Dad said with a small smile.

I didn't miss a beat. I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly and chuckled a bit.

"Yeah . . . it's sort of a big building and I didn't want to get lost on the way, so . . . "

"Oh," Mr. Fake chuckled himself, "the bathroom is right over there."

He pointed in the direction of the bathroom and I headed towards it, receiving a smile and a nod from my father as I did so. I would wait it out in the bathroom and let my father do what he was trained to do. I didn't have any good close-combat training (or much field-experience for that matter) to be going up against a man who probably outranked me in skill and in experience (but not intellect because I could kick his ass at that). It was better for me if I didn't interfere or try to help right now.

"We'll wait for you out here Karin," I hear the impostor say to me before I ducked into the bathroom and closed the door.

Stood with my back against the door for what seemed like the longest time. During that time I stared at my figured in the mirror. I tried to occupy my mind with things that didn't associate with what was going on outside of that door. I thought about how I wanted my hair in a pony tail, I thought about how I wanted to get myself out of these heels, and put on some really comfortable running shoes with gel insoles. I thought about the dress I was wearing. It was black, a V-neck cut that flowed nicely to my knees. It was nothing fancy, nothing extravagant, and nothing revealing (I don't think Dad would have let me wear something like that anyway). It was just a dress for a single night, a dress I probably wouldn't wear again.

"Karin, are you done in there?"

I had almost forgotten that that person was my dad and that he was calling my name.

"Um, yeah! Just a second!" I flushed the toilet and ran the faucet for a few seconds before turning it off and opening the door.

There my father stood, with a gun to the back of the man's head. The man had his hands up in the air and was on his knees. Beside him on the ground was a silicon mask sort of thing, like something you'd see out of Mission Impossible. Dad's face was stone-cold emotionless, while the other man seemed a little more worried (obviously) yet slightly amused.

"They said your were good," he chuckled in a way that made my skin crawl.

My father didn't say a word. He simply spoke to me without a glance in my direction.

"Karin, get out of here."

I didn't move, I couldn't move, it was as if my legs were locked into place and I no longer had control over them. The lights once again flickered between off and on, much like how my eyes flickered between the face of my father and the gun in his hand. I was suddenly aware of the rapid beating of my heart. I knew what my dad did for a job and I knew what that job involved sometimes. But I had never seen my dad gun, especially a gun pointed to someone's head. It was like I was watching an all too real action movie.

"Karin," he said sternly.

I had no objections to his command that time. I snapped out of my frozen-state and ran back down the hallway. The pounding of my heart was the only thing I could hear as I ran and turned a corner. I don't remember hearing a gunshot, but I don't remember hearing anything except for my heartbeat and the click of my heels against the marble floor. I was so focused on not hearing the gunshot and running forward that I hadn't noticed the two figures in front of me. I nearly fell back after running into both of them. I told my self that next time I should try to be a little more aware.

I caught myself (for the second time that night) and was ready to punch the lights out of them if they attacked me, but once I realized that the two figures were kids I put my fists down. Although, I wish I could have said the same thing for one of the kids in front of me. He aimed a punch towards my face, but I quickly moved my head and caught his fist with a quirked brow.

"Whoa there buddy."

I recognized who these kids were. They were Mr. Conwell's children, Zach and Charlotte. Zach of course, was the one who aimed a fist to my face. Not a very good first impression. Then again, I was the one who had first run into them.

"Where is our dad?" he hissed at me with narrowed eyes as I let go of his fist.

"Calm down there kid, I'm on your side." If there were any sides, apparently I was on his.

"Where's our dad?" he asked me again. I had hoped that I wasn't like this when I was fifteen, I would've been such a pain to handle.

He stood in front of his younger sister Charlotte protectively and my lips quirked upward in a small smile. Then I thought of something and looked at Zach.

"Where's your older sister?"

He gave me a suspicious look before answering.

"Shelby sneaked out to meet her boyfriend," he continued to glare at me, "do you know where our dad is?"

I had only known this kid for the maximum of two minutes and I was ready to smack him upside the head for being repetitive. If I had known where his dad was, didn't he think I would have already told him?

"Listen kid, Zach, right? I don't know where your dad is, but we need to get you and your sister out of here--"

I saw his composure straighten and a fierce determination glinted in his eyes. I would have taken him seriously, if he hadn't opened his mouth to say something.

"No."

I ran my hand down my face in exasperation and placed my hands on my hips, as if I were his mother about to scold him.

"Listen kid," I had a feeling I was going to be saying that a lot, "either you and your sister high-tale it out of here or I'll be forced to drag your sorry little--"

"I heard voices over here! C'mon!" I heard a voice say farther down the hall, followed by the sound of shoes hitting the floor in a run. The lights finally caved into darkness as the rain pitter-pattered on the roof and against the windows. I could hear the wind outside blowing through the branches of the trees.

I instantly forgot about arguing with Zach and instead I focused on who was coming our way. I was never okay with hand-to-hand combat. I mean, I could manage pretty well by myself, but that was months ago. Despite training and practice at the academy almost every day, during the summer mother had forbid me from doing anything like that whatsoever. She said that if I did, my brothers would catch on to what I was training to become, but I hardly believed that.

"Zach, hide."

He looked at me while I was trying to differentiate the sound of their footsteps. How many were there? Two? No, three? I couldn't tell, but all I knew was that they were getting closer. Zach and Charlotte still hadn't moved.

"I said hide." I was in no mood to play babysitter. Zach sent me one last defying look before giving in and ducking into a darkened part of the hallway. The only light that was provided was the flash of lightning that streaked passed the windows. I readied myself for the oncoming figures, darkness was my cover, and I hoped that they would be caught off-guard. They were a few feet away from me when one of them spoke.

"Who's there?"

Silence was the only answer the man received. I felt nervous, I was scared, I had no idea what size they were, how strong they were or if they had any weapons. I pushed my fears away; if you're nervous you makes mistakes. If you make mistakes, you might just die. A quick flash of lightning illuminated the hallway and I saw their faces, I saw their size, and in that quick moment all my fear flooded out of me and I did what I had been trained to do.

"Get he--"

I slammed my foot into his chest (seeing as I had heels on it probably hurt more) and he fell back into the others. Two jumped forward but I continued on, flicking off my heels somewhere in between (you try fighting off bad guys while wearing those, it's not easy). It was dark and I could barely see, but I could hear them and the air that moved as they moved. I knew how to use more than just my sight, but I wasn't an expert at it. I just guessed their movement and hit their figures. There were misses, but I made up for them a split-second later. Then I realized that some of them were going down and I wasn't even touching them.

"What the hell," I mumbled to myself as the last man fell to the ground.

I whirled around and aimed a punch towards the figure that still stood. The figure caught my wrist and pulled me forward. I promptly kneed them in the stomach. The figure flinched and then snatched my other wrist. I was ready to head butt them, but then they spoke.

"I'm on your side."

"Why should I trust you?"

"Why not?"

Lightning once more lit up the hallway and I was able to see the face of the person who was holding me. His olive eyes seemed to glow in that flash of light and they stared at me with such intensity that my whole body felt intimidated. I almost forgot about everything else that was going on. There was no danger, there was no darkness, there was no fear, there was just this . . . faint feeling of trust.

My body loosened and when he let go of my wrists everything came flooding back. I could hear the mumbles and slight movements of the unconscious men on the ground. I didn't have time to stand here and stare into the eyes of a stranger. I quickly ran and grabbed Zach's arm and he held Charlotte in his arm. He looked at the olive-eyed stranger with a shocked expression. It seemed like Zach knew who this guy was.

"You're our . . . "

"Listen Zach, you need to listen to me and take you and your sister out of here," he said to them with a soft tone.

Zach didn't even hesitate. He took hold of Charlotte's hand and ran down the hall. He paused for a moment and slightly looked over his shoulder, but then continued on with Charlotte in tow. I made a step in the direction to follow after them, but his voice stopped me and my body didn't dare to move.

"Not you," he told me in a stern voice, "you come with me."

I turned around and watched as he picked up a gun that had fallen from a man's holster. I froze, fearing the worst, but instead he used it to gesture for us to keep on moving. We moved quickly and I walked next to him with a stiff composure. My eyes kept glancing at the gun in his hand. I watched as he checked if it was loaded and it was, then he promptly handed it to me.

"You know how to shoot, right?"

My fingers shook a bit as I grasped it. I nodded hesitantly.

"Yes."

"How many times?"

"Four times . . . with my dad. I'm not very--"

"Have you ever killed someone before?"

My eyes went wide and I could feel another shiver of fear run through me. He pulled out his own gun and checked to see if it was loaded as well. I had never killed someone and I had never wanted to kill someone. I knew what being a spy meant and I knew what you trained for in the future. Sometimes you trained to kill as an assassin, other times you trained to watch people, and most of the time you trained to shoot for not only the protection of yourself, but others as well. He noticed the look on my face and looked away (I'm guessing that was enough for an answer).

"I was just kidding. The question was rhetorical."

My body relaxed for a few seconds, but then he added, with a click of his gun.

" . . . sort of."

- x . x . x -

I couldn't have told you where we were or how we had gotten there. It was down a series of hallways, through a couple of doors, and even down a ladder. It's not because I'm not supposed to tell you, it's because I just couldn't keep up with my surroundings. It was dark and I only followed the guy in front of me (who occasionally took hold of my hand to guide me through the darkness). We had our backs pressed up against the wall of a dark hallway and refused to break the silence. I was too curious though, so I spoke in a soft whisper.

"Who are you?" It was more of a quiet demand than a question.

"Russell," he said simply.

"I'm . . . Karin," I said back to make for an awkward introduction.

"I know."

"You do?"

"Trust me, my people have been watching you for a long time," he stopped moving forward, "longer than you know."

"How--"

He quieted me down and looked forward again. I heard voices, muffled voices, and a small sliver of light a few ways ahead of us. Russell moved forward a tad bit more. Even though it was dark around us and I could barely understand what he was gesturing to me I came to the conclusion he wanted me to stay back, so I did. I strained my ears to hear more of what was being said.

"You have a simple choice . . . no use . . . everyone's . . . it's up to you . . . "

I couldn't make out the rest of the conversation. I didn't get a second shot at it because Russell caught my attention and I scooted forward, peering into the sliver of light just like he was. I could make out two figures, one of the men I had seen earlier at the party and the real Mr. Conwell. The man-- who I recognized as the drunk—circled around Mr. Conwell like a vulture would to a dead animal. Mr. Conwell himself was on his knees with his hands bound behind his back, his face was bruised and bloody.

"Are you sure you aren't going to change your mind, Mr. Conwell?"

"Burn in hell."

Russell nudged me and we both stepped away from the door. He spoke to me quietly, so quiet that I had to tune out everything else I could hear, just to get what he was saying to me.

"We shoot on one. Just aim for the man with the gun, you don't have to be sharp, but be in the general area."

The gun suddenly felt heavy in my hands. Russell looked at me as if he was expecting an answer. I couldn't speak, I didn't even know what to say to that. My throat felt extremely dry and this wave of nausea and nervousness overcame me. I had a feeling he sensed it because he looked at me and nodded.

"You're dad learned how to shoot when he was thirteen. He was great, I'm sure there will be no difference when it comes to you."

"How do--"

"Just aim and fire." He moved towards the crack of the door and said nothing more. I followed him and gripped the gun in my hands. Russell opened the door a bit wider, the man barely even noticed as he pressed the barrel of his gun against Mr. Conwell's forehead.

"Are you sure? We were such good business parters, William."

"Burn in hell."

I crouched down and aimed for the chest of the man, hoping that by some miracle I wouldn't miss. My palms felt sweaty and my heart pounded in my ears. I tried to keep my breathing quiet and calm, but it only made my lungs feel like they were going to burst.

"Three."

I watched as Mr. Conwell spit at the man. I needed to focus, to be calm, to just breathe. Russell adjusted his aim and we continued to watch as the man smirked a bit.

"You know William, I truly am sorry for this."

"Two," Russell whispered quietly as we both placed our fingers on the triggers.

"Burn. In. Hell."

"Goodbye Mr. Conwell."

"One."

We both shot before the man even managed to move his finger. He stumbled back and dropped the gun on the ground. I don't know where I hit him, I saw one hole in his shoulder and one in his neck, both areas were bleeding profusely. I was just satisfied I had managed to even aim correctly. I remembered shooting only once and then moving quickly to untie Mr. Conwell, but I kept on hearing gunshots-- from Russell. My ears rung and I could barely make out what Mr. Conwell was saying to me. I was just focused on untying him as fast as I could. Once his ropes were gone he grabbed me by the shoulders.

"My kids, Karin! My kids!" he practically yelled at me.

"They're fine," I said to him, "we have to get you out of here."

"He said this place is rigged to explode . . . the guests!"

"We can't save them," I heard Russell say as I helped Mr. Conwell up, "we don't have enough time if what he said was true. We can't save everyone."

"But--"

"We just have to run."

Russell and I both helped Mr. Conwell back down the hallway and up the ladder. I could feel my heart beating in time with the seconds that passed as we moved. I quickly became aware of the blood smeared on my skin from Mr. Conwell's wounds, but I ignored the feeling and told myself I would freak out about it later.

"But surely, maybe even a few--"

"I don't think so," I said.

"But--"

"--listen Mr. Conwell it doesn't matter because they're all going to die! We don't know when that bomb is going to go off and we don't know much time we have left until we get you out of here," I hadn't realized I was yelling, "and if we don't get out we'll be dead too!"

I took a firmer hold of him and continued to run until we found an exit. I felt the realization hit him and the surprise engulf Russell as we finally got out. I couldn't believe I had said such a scary realization out loud. I saw Zach and Charlotte in the distance and Mr. Conwell bounded for them as I slowed down. They embraced one another and I overhead Zach reassuring his father that Shelby had sneaked out. The wind howled and the rain fell on us mercilessly as the lightning and thunder continued over our heads.

Men in black suits ushered them away, I didn't bother to look where they were going because something struck me and my heart felt heavy as if a string of chains had been placed over my shoulders. I looked over at Russell with fear-filled eyes.

"My dad's still in there."

He stared at me with a mirrored look. "He is?"

"I might have some time left, I might--" Russell gripped my wrist and pulled me away from the house.

"You are not going in there."

I was ready to dislocate his arm and make sure he would never be able to have children if I have to. I struggled against him, but he kept a strong and steady hold on me as he quickly pulled us (more like dragged me) both behind a car parked across the street. I was hitting his chest with my fists in defiance.

"I need too--"

The explosion took my by surprise and Russell held me closer to him. My face was buried in his chest and I felt the ground shake. The sound of the air rushing past us filled my ears and the smell of burning wood filled my nose. But I didn't move, I couldn't move, I was frozen for a short period in time and in that time I felt my heart stop beating. Even the storm around us seemed to quiet, but only for a split second.

"No!" I screamed, trying to push myself away from Russell.

There was no feeling in my legs, the blood in my veins had completely stopped moving, I felt nothing. I shakily collapsed on the ground and Russell came with me. I squirmed, I screamed, I beat him with my fists, I did whatever I would. He took all the blows, the screaming, and didn't even loosen his warms around me. I could feel the tears running down my cheeks, I could feel the scratchy pain in my throat beginning to appear, and I could barely feel the blood moving in my body again.

"Karin . . . " he said softly as he pulled my closer, rubbing my back.

My continuous hitting same to a stop and I just cried. The rain seemed to cry with me as it soaked both of us, making my hair and clothes stick to my skin. Through my body-racking sobs I heard the sirens of firetrucks, ambulances, police cars, and probably other various response teams arrive (I was pretty sure the F.B.I. would arrive soon). I heard footsteps against the pavement and I tried to stifle my sobbing.

"Russell," the voice spoke softly, "it's time to let her go. The medics need to take her to the hospital with Mr. Conwell."

I had a feeling that the person worked with Russell or at least the same agency, but I didn't bother to look up or think about it. Russell made no effort to let me go, he just spoke back assertively.

"I'm going with her."

"Russ--"

"I am. Going. With her."

He held me gently as he helped me stand up. I kept my gaze downward and leaned against him while he led me over to the ambulance.

"It's okay princess, your knight and shining armor is here."

I knew he was trying to make me feel better, at least a little bit. I wanted to so desperately smile back at him through my tears and puffy red eyes, but I just couldn't bring myself to do so. At any other time I would've thought more about his character, or even say something witty back, but the only thing I managed to do would say a simple and barely audible thank you.

A paramedic wrapped a blanket around me before Russell and I climbed into the back of the ambulance. He put his arm around me and held me close. I rested my head on his shoulder, still keeping my gaze down. Across from us Mr. Conwell sat with his children. The rain drummed against the roof as we were driven. The only thing that managed to sooth me was the way the drop fell almost rhythmically. It seemed to replaced the beating of my heart because I just couldn't feel it anymore.

"It's okay, I bet he got out safely," Russell whispered to me.

I closed my eyes and didn't say anything in return. I couldn't think straight, I could barely think about anything at all. I didn't think or care about having this mysterious guy's arm and me and how that broke a few rules since I already had a boyfriend. I didn't think about how Zach and even Charlotte every once in a while caught themselves staring at me, I probably looked horrible. The only thing I could think about was what Russell has said earlier.

"We can't save everyone."

Despite how many time I told myself he was fine. Despite how many times I told myself that he had gotten out before the explosion and that he was probably waiting for me at the hospital, I didn't believe it. The more I told myself the more I felt like I was lying. The more I tried to be optimistic the faster the fear and sadness came over mer. I felt what was left of my tears roll down my cheeks. Part of me held a lasting hope, a silver lining to this dark, dark cloud, but even a bigger part of me knew and felt, almost to fact . . . that my dad was gone.

- x . x . x -

End Note: All I can say it . . . holy cow pies. Holy freaking lighting in the storm cow pies. I really hoped you all enjoyed this first (and very long) chapter of No Worries. It was a bit dramatic, was it not? This first chapter is a bit longer than I planned it would, but I guess that just sets me up for high standards on the rest of the story (oh bloody-freaking-joy)! I know you guys have a LOT of questions . . . and such, so feel free to stop by my twitter to check out what's happening with me:

t w i t t e r . c o m / x m i d n i g h t i n k

Also, please check out my story Up, Up & Away! I'm also planning another action-y story right now . . . hehe, I know, I should pace myself.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed and PLEASE REVIEW or I won't update, I swear I won't.