Gloriosa; Heroes Rise // The Resurrection

[Gemini]

Gloriosa; The Resurrection


Heroes Rise.




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Six Months ago . . .

Spoiler

At least three people are suspected missing with four in intensive care after a bus fell into the River Thames in Central London yesterday afternoon.


[ Image caption reads: Victims are looked after by paramedics; above right; Nora Marthon & Sydney Margrave above; Madison Delmont]


The number 78 single decker bus, thought to be carrying at least 26 citizens at the time, including a young girl of fourteen years and her guardian, plunged into the river after crashing through a guard rail when driver and conductor Larry Norman is thought to have fallen asleep on route near Tower Bridge.


Among the victims was ex-musician turned author Stephen Rose [image left] who commented, 'It was surreal.'.


Officials have confirmed that two bodies have been recovered from the vehicle which was pulled out of the river late last night, and that divers are assisting in the continued search for any signs of the missing individuals.


[ Image caption reads: Exhausted, bottom left; Eliza Rose Smith. Bottom right; Garrick Rake.]


Lawyer Garrick Rake who was also among the victims and has has already filed a suit against officials, and Travel for London has since released a statement that the responsibility of this tragedy "falls heavily upon one selfish and troubled man". However their sympathies nonetheless go out to the victims of this tragedy and the families and friends of the deceased.


Larry Norman has since been arrested on suspicion of being under influence at the time.


The number 78 already boasts a history of bad luck when driver Albert Gunter leapt the gap when his bus was caught on the rapidly rising platforms of Tower Bridge on the evening of 28 December, 1952.

Today. . .




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Closing the worn paper, Stephen looked over the front page, taking in the bus wreckage that had adorned it's front page so many months ago for a moment before folding it in half, replacing it on the coffee table, and as he lay back against the sofa once more he wondered how long it'd been since he last dreamt of that day's events, recalled that cold rush of water, that sensation of weightlessness. . . He had barely registered the faces at that time, everything was chaos, even whilst from afar the scene appeared contained, controlled. The screams had died quickly, there was only panic. A rush to escape out before the bus turned boat could become fully submerged.


Arms stretching skyward, Stephen yawned. He felt woozy after a to long night's sleep having woken dehydrated, his eyes heavy from his dreaming despite being well rested, and reaching out he picked up the burnt slice of toast from the plate, it's taste ashen against his tongue as he finished it off in several bites, reaching with his free hand to pick up a fallen piece from his chest only to pop that into his mouth also before dusting fingers against his top in idle manner, sitting up slightly and reaching to pick up his phone, checking over the time.


It was with a groan that he flopped back against the cushions, the back of his hand resting and covering his eyes only to force himself upright, legs seeming to kick, adding to the strength behind his lift and he swayed as he stood, using his second foot to pull down the leg of his bottoms that was caught at the knee not wanting to bend. Then with a final stretch, a shake of his face and wobble of the cheeks which he patted twice, he looked about him seemingly lost before pointing at the bathroom door, adjusting his crotch and almost tripping over the slippers he'd kicked off earlier. A curse as he straightened, turning to kick the offending item and he was ready for the day ahead.




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[ErisianDialects]

His head pounded in time to the bongos from Sympathy for the Devil as the sun rose almost blinding him further. He tried to move in his bed, both his arms remarkably numb as bloodshot eyes slowly cracked open to look at the ceiling of his bedroom. Rolling Stones blared from his phone as he tried to move his arms, swallowing, trying to get moisture on his dehydrated tongue.


He couldn't feel his arms. This was not entirely a new sensation, and his eyes closed a moment before he moved his head, a new strain of pounding echoed through his head. Where had he gone last night?


He vaguely remembered hitting the Twig and Berries at some point. His eyes would blink a few times. Redhead on the bed. Quite cute, he must have been in fair form. Beyond he saw his razor and a mirror, vibrating to his phone and it's music. That explained his left arm. The Brunette explained his right arm Unfortunately he couldn't chew his arm off of that one.


What day was it again?


What month?


He slowly and with well practiced moves extricated himself from his situation, covering the ladies up. He would pick up his phone, undoing his good work that had ended with the women snuggling with a stream of profanity.


Today was not going to be a good day. He picked up his razor and headed quickly to the bathroom as the ladies went on a well known, among those who breakfasted in the cafe that was below his domain at least, walk of shame. He would move, somehow managing to shave himself without cutting his throat as he simultaneously shaved and brushed his teeth. He showered, the phone in his hand forgotten, as I Can't Decide started to play. His secretary, worth every cent, almost, reminding him he needed to be in the office soon.


He moved into a strange lawyer space. He mentally ran through four speeches as he cleaned himself, dressing neatly and quickly, smoothing down his hair. He had been in the news his life, he kept the public opinion on his side as well as he could, at least those who mattered. He didn't bring in many rich clients, well, well known rich clients at least. Mostly, a few celebrities that should have known better from various parties he had been at and rescued them from various police raids he may had also orchestrated, and then there was his criminal empire. Well not -HIS- criminal empire. For one thing if it was he wouldn't get caught.


But the steady stream of various drugs, abuse and murder cases he brought in to loyal customers kept him busy, mostly. It also meant then when things were quiet he could make himself a media circus or three on cases, of his choosing, of course.


At least the hangover had died somewhere along the way.


He didn't stop for breakfast, instead heading straight to the offices of D'ampton, Chase and Howell in one of those black cabs. He didn't take the bus any more. All it would take would be one photograph and the case would sink quicker than Prince Harry's pants in Vegas.


He rushed in to the building, not paying any attention to those around him in the slightest, especially not to the cabbie he had just neglected to pay, who would be paid by one of the various receptionists of the day. He would look at himself in the mirrored doors of the elevator, straightening his tie ever so slightly, adjusting his glasses, pulling his happy professional veneer over the little seediness that remained.


He left the metal movement coffin and straight into the conference room that someone else had booked and he had commandeered nodding at the coffee pot, the various small baked goods, and nodded his head. He was forgetting something, somewhere. Oh bollocks.


He would stick his head out the door.


"Would someone get me a damn solicitor in here? A secretary? Someone to take notes?"


His voice would reach a tall, Rubenesque woman who would sigh and phone HR. The first meeting of his lawsuit against Travel for London, and the city of London was not getting a good start. He moved to the head of the long table, slumping his face in his hands. It served him right for not drinking, and driving, really.

 

[Chaotic]

The girl slipped the black baseball cap off over her head and undid her ponytail before messing up her long platinum hair and sinking into the only chair in her scarcely furnished studio with a slight sigh. Work had been hell. Rather than just leaving well enough alone and allowing her time to daydream as she saw fit, management had made her train in some new little chatterbox who would be gone in a week or two. She always saw that the training sessions were done well, but hated them vehemently as they detracted from the time she was allowed to daydream . . . Daydreaming was the reason she kept her job as the pastry chef for the mom and pop store she worked at . . .


Closing her eyes and pouting at nothing in particular, the girl tried to force her now stressed body to relax some. It had been a rather arduous 11.5 hour day and now she really just wanted sleep. After waging a slight war with herself as she stilled her mind and relaxed her limbs, she drifted off towards the oblivion that was sleep.


"Now ... I know better than to expect you lot to go above and beyond the call of duty, but I will warn you that you are going to need to know this next part for the test," muttered a rather disheveled looking gentleman who stood in front of a large group of fairly young, preppy looking teenagers. Adjusting his glasses he scribbled HI, HBr, HCl, HNO3, H2SO4, HClO4, and NH3 onto his projector screen before drawing several poor attempts at circles around the last bit. "These are the strong acids . . . Star them . . . Color them with highlighters . . . Just know them, got it? Not really that difficult . . . Except for this last one. Notice that it lacks the acidic proton . . . Can anyone tell me what this one is and why it is taking up valuable space on my board?"


Great . . . Chemistry . . . She had never really been a fan of the sciences. They required far to much effort and detracted far to much from her valuable daydreaming time. Yawning in annoyance at her dream, the blonde stretched somewhat as a rather pompous looking, short-haired blonde in the first row answered the question. It was about three minutes later that class ended and she stood to leave with her fellow students.


Having barely stood up, the girl was distracted by an earsplitting scream from beside her followed by a bunch of truly terrified stares. Wondering what trick this particular dream was playing to illicit such a reaction, she looked down and back up at the people in confusion. As far as she could tell there was nothing wrong with her . . . She had all body parts . . . She wasn't holding a gun . . . She hadn't threatened anyone. As the student body's level of panic continued to rise, they started to bolt for sanctuary from whatever it was that was scaring them. Thinking it best to follow along, she started to move also before one of the jock boys ran right threw the space that she should have been standing in.


"it was right there!" cried a brunette with terrified emerald eyes. "I saw something standing right there . . ."


Rosalie's eyes shot open as her still tired frame leapt up from the chair she had been relaxing in. Every inch of her was covered in a cold sweat and she felt somewhat disoriented as she stumbled quickly to the kitchen to get a pot of water on the stove. She hated the vividness of her nightmares sometimes . . . Clicking on the television in hopes that it might calm her currently frazzled nerves, the girl watched as the news crew went on about some major court case which had spawned months earlier with a bus crash. She had been hearing about this all since it had happened, but such repetitive noise was exactly what she needed right now. Finishing with the boiling water, she set her chai tea to steep and watched as intently as she could as some 'expert' talked about the case's finer points.

 

[The Empress of Ice]

One wouldn´t know the pain. They COULDN´T know the pain, atleast in her mind. Sighing first thing in the morning while staring at the reflection infront of her. The mirror showed a girl. Not a woman but a girl with thighs that barely touched and a flat stomach. The kind of flat that made one squirm not swoon; The kind which is required by constant self-starving. Nora frowned, her dark hair was getting long again and seemed to be like a curtain falling down her shoulders to hide her stick of a body. With a slight shake of the head she stared at the clothes her mother had layed on the bed. They were folded but she knew instantly that it was white blouse and a gray work-skirt. Chuckling she took the blouse and went to the closet; taking her ripped black jeans that were slightly baggy so none would notice her long, clumsy legs.


Finally downstairs after tying her hair up in a small messy bun the girl started for the dining room. Her stomach had been growling since early morning and taking a small snack wouldn´t change her condition. Maybe they´d notice her after all; They would give their little pep talk to get their hands on the money. Entering the kitchen upon seeing Miss Berlin, Nora greeted her with a small smile before sitting down on the wood table. Her eyes darting left and right before settling upon her mother. "Now, we want them to regret ever letting a Marthon near death! We have a reputation to up hold and what do you do? Ride the BUS? Ridiculous!" Acqua only stopped her small rant to take a sip from her tea before staring at her daughter with cold eyes. "You are a Marthon, sadly....Nora! Don´t turn away from me and listen!"At the remark the maid rolled her eyes before noticing the stern glance from her master. "Sir! You want tea, coffee? Fancy some scones?" She rambled trying to cover her small mistake. "I´d like them scones with a cup of Earl grey tea, dear." His tone were polite before his stern eyes landed on his daughter near the end. "You listen to your mother, she knows what is best for you! And get that small company to pay their mistakes. A tired driver?" He scoffed. "That´s an excuse for failure and in the Marthon family there are no failures. Understood?" Not getting a response but a simple nod from Nora the tall intimidating man left to finish yet another book.


"So...I´ll leave and Joshua will drive you to this meeting, make me...You know what, just don´t screw up." Acqua muttered before leaving drastically to work. Another trend was starting and new designs were needed at the moment. No time for Nora; Never any time for Nora. The maid had prepared her some scones but the girl simply replied with an excuse. Taking her time to get her sneakers on before heading to the car.


Ignoring the drivers help and heading straight ahead over to the building Nora went to the reception. "I am here for the..Travel Of London meeting?" She questioned herself not giving a care for the company´s name. "Of course, Miss. Name?"


"Nora Marthon." She spoke with a tinge on annoyance in her voice. "Oh, yes. Please follow this way.." The receptionist smiled softly before letting a small lady take over the bench and walked with Nora by her side, up the elevator to be heading to a conference room. "Here you go, Miss." The receptionist politely stated before walking back to the elevators. With a stride she walked in and sat down. Staring at the man infront of her with a frown. "When will we start?"

 

[ninbinz]

The muffled pounding of base heavy music invaded his room through the walls, his eyes bloodshot from yet another allnighter, his head pounding from the stress and the ever present temptation of his xbox sitting not more than five feet away. Sidney remained resolute despite the constant distractions, focus was all he believed that he needed; focus and drive but both were waning now and his friend Ryan didn't alleviate any of his stress though he was cause for much of it. Sidney couldn't understand how his friend managed to stay aloft without a job or anything, in fact the man seemed to party every minute of every day even though Sidney knew better.


His door swung open, his friend stood there with a bottle in his hand and a smile on his face, Sidney knew right away that he was high and looking to make trouble yet again. "Time for a preemptive strike." He thought. Sidney quickly rose from his seat as Ryan opened his mouth to speak, Sydney then extended his arm and gently pushed Ryan backwards. Ryan stumbled a little but moved back enough for Sidney to close the door and lock it barring his friend entry to his room, at least until he needed to eat, Ryan couldn't cook for a starving homeless person if his life depended on it.


Alone yet again Sidney or Sid as his friends called him returned to his work only to be interrupted yet again by his phone alarm. Frazzled now to the point of incoherency, Sidney thought it best he get some rest before going to work in the next six hours. Sleep came easily and he wafted into a hazy dream of nonsensical things, content to keep dreaming he slept on unperturbed by the thundering music outside his room. His dream however took a turn for the worst when a bus came crashing through the fog, Sidney found himself suddenly placed in a seat next to faceless people, their screams warped and alien.


When Sydney awoke he found himself crumpled on the floor covered in cold sweat, his heart was pounding and he was scared witless. It took him several moments to realise where he was and that he was relatively safe, it seemed that the party had stopped since the music volume was a modicum quieter. Sindey got up and opened the door to see that his friend had yet again trashed their dwelling, the hallway was littered with empty alcohol bottles, food and clothes. The living area was littered with sleeping people, he found a few living souls in his bathroom spewing their guts out, put off for the time being he changed into gym clothes and packed a bag with some spare clothes, he'd have a shower after his workout at the gym, go to work and then return to clean up Ryan's mess.


Changed and ready, his nightmare forgotten Sidney left for the gym. When he got there it seemed that it was relatively early and he wouldn't have to suffer the awkward feeling of people staring at him, he was relieved and went about his exercises. When he arrived at work he found himself staring at the front page of the newspaper and he saw the headline, he sighed and looked at the paper a moment longer before his boss called him inside t start working.

 

[Autumn]

Madison's coffe brown eyes shot open. She stared at the white ceiling of her bedroom, trying to calm her racing heart that was beating like a hummingbird's wings. She was covered in sweat and she was fairly sure it was from her dream. Pushing herself off the mattress, she sat, head in her hands, trying to get rid of the claustrophobia the images tended to bring on. It had been months now and she still felt anxious riding buses and it was an ordeal attempting to cross the bridge. She hated her reaction but she assumed it was a normal feeling considering what she had gone through. Awake, it was easy to push the images from her mind and focus on work or school. Sleeping, her brain seemed to still focus on that day, bringing back the rushing water and frantic screams of the people.


Moving to the edge of the bed, Madi let her feet touch the cool wood floor before standing and making her way to the bathroom of her one bedroom apartment. Shedding her oversized t-shirt and underwear, she turned the shower as far left as it would go and stood for a moment, letting steam fill the room. She stepped into the shower and felt her muscles relax: it was just a dream. The dream was over now. Madi couldn't help but feel like her ordeal wasn't over and she silently wondered how many of the other victims felt that way.


Rinsing the last of the suds from her hair, Madison turned the water off and wrapped her hair in a towel, grabbing another to cover her body. Padding out into her bedroom once more, she made her way to the white chest of drawers standing in the corner of her room. Bright sunlight shined through the window, illuminating her room: books and papers for school were scattered around her unmade bed. The clock on her bedside table told her she had an hour before she needed to leave for work. She rifled through the drawers, grabbing a pair of jeans and a plain white blouse. She dressed quickly and blew her russet brown hair dry before wandering to the kitchen. She pulled the fridge door open, handle cool to the touch, and soon the sound of eggs sizzling filled the apartment.


She inhaled her breakfast, dumping the dirty dishes in the sink. Sliding a pair of black flats on, she grabbed her chocolate brown bag and headed out the door. She worked for a doctor who focused on marine research. He was interested in sharks and manta rays mostly. Madi just took care of paperwork at this point. Seven months ago, she would have taken the bus but now, the treck seemed much more friendly that the metal monsters on wheels.


Madison was still in school and working on her own PhD in Marine Science. She hoped to be done in two more years. Of course, her parents had warned her that it wasn't a very promising field. It was what she loved, though, and she was prepared to do whatever she had to. If all else failed, she could be a college professor. She shuddered at the thought of having to talk in front of hundreds of students each day: Madison was definitely not a strong public speaker. She figured that it was due to living with three vociferous brothers.


Pulled out of her reverie, Madison pushed the glass door of the lab open and walked in, nodding to the receptionist. Her name was Heather. They went through a lot of receptionists because Dr. Orlando had high expectations for everyone that worked under him. Madison prided herself in remembering the names of everyone that worked here. Madison walked into the back hallway and headed to the conference room.


"Good morning," she said quietly to Dr. Orlando, taking her seat next to him, ready to take notes.

 

[Kagura]

It was a strange feeling of weightlessness, one that had overcome her before, her limbs are heavy, but she is floating. Before even trying, Logan knows she can’t move… the blue, unassuming, and thick environment around her is familiar. What isn’t familiar is the sudden jerk in her leg, her clothes parachuting out as she is dragged down. Now her limbs are moving, flailing out in the gelatin substance as the blues get darker and her other leg fighting against the pull until it is grabbed to. Logan’s mouth opens as she is pulled down further.


As she springs from bed, she momentarily fights the sheets that encase her, sweating profusely despite the cool air drifting in from the window. The makeshift ponytail she went to sleep in is in disarray and she furthers the damage as she grabs her roots and pulls slightly. Her gasps are still racking her body, and she wipes her face as she wills herself to calm down. There is a slight knock on her door, and she already knows its Mrs. Williams from next door. Logan waits a moment, taking a few breaths before moving her limbs again, awkwardly, as she is not used to their new weight.


It was that same dream…ever since she had survived that crash six months ago it had always been the same dream… Logan was more used to the nightmares that left her falling; a feeling of hopelessness, she had heard once before. Sometimes there were reminders of Kate that left her guilt-ridden and work-orientated the entire day.


“Elle, dearie, are you okay?!”


Mrs. William’s voice at her front door has her throwing on her blush silk robe and hurrying toward her door. Logan takes a moment to compose herself but doesn’t bother to fix her ponytail or check her appearance. When she finally answers the door the older lady is momentarily shocked, but the younger sees relief flow into her face just as quickly. “I heard some screaming…are you okay?” she questions, clenching her old fist in the robe that encased her, despite being much more clothed than Logan herself was. “I’m fine Mrs. Williams…just a nightmare” the young girl smiles apologetically, her demeanor something she had practiced.


It was much easier not to lie to her neighbour, as she remembered the first time she had such a nightmare the police were there within seconds. “I keep telling you Elle! My therapist will do wonders, just make an appointment” she ushers, and the girl wipes at her face. “I just haven’t the time…really, with the job hunting…” she breathed out, not bothering to comment on Mrs. Williams’ use of her pseudo nickname. It was not a girl’s name, the complaint she would often hear in regards to her parent’s chosen name. Instead Elle was a simple shortening, and she had learned to live with it after spending her time around the woman.


“Oh! You lost your Novell job?” the woman covers her mouth and Logan mouth pulls slightly, contemplating the explanation of an internship. “Not exactly” was all she said with a sheepish smile and the woman reached out to pat her arm, “Don’t worry dearie, your secrets safe with me!” she assures. The job the woman had been referring to was her old law firm, Novell and Campbell, where she had spent her internship. The company had decided not to keep her, so she guessed in a way that she did just lose her job. As her phone rang off in the background, Mrs. Williams seemed to straighten “That might be the call! I’ll leave you to it then!” she jesters slightly before walking off.


With a huff, Logan closes the door, leaning her forehead against the edge until the chime reminds her of the receiver. With a quick glance at the time, she realized that it wasn’t as early as she thought… “Hello?” she finally answers the incessant device. It was human resources, and she realized that this was indeed, the call. They needed a solicitor over at D’ampton, Chase and Howard and she was to be working under one Garrick Rake. In the back of her mind she realized the irony and it was even more so when she was told the case. Logan didn’t bother hiding her slight smile as she agreed, and assured the woman calling she would be over in less than twenty before hanging up.


Garrick Rake, she repeats the thought to herself before heading to her bathroom and jumping in the shower. The girl had read the story of bus 78 countless times, but her knowledge of the man came from the few horror stories at Novell. Not to mention the way he was mentioned in the media… she half-expected him to be defending the bus driver.


Drying herself off, she set to brushing out her unruly locks whilst looking around for something to wear. Still, she was half-distracted by her own memory, reading the newspaper was nothing compared to experiencing the real thing…


---


Most of the spots were taken on bus 78, so the blonde simply stood behind the yellow line, content on staying there. The little details such as where she was going were clouded in her mind; everything had gone so fast. One moment she glanced around the back to take a view of the strangers with her, the next she heard the honking of horns and a strange veering in the pathway, someone had screamed.


They hit the guard rail next to the river head on though, and went through it despite not going all that fast; panic hit the bus like a virus. It was like slow motion for Logan though, how she stumbled forward and hit the panel besides the driver, feeling her stomach drop against the adrenaline. They were descending towards the water and if not for the imbalance of weight they may have not done a slight nose dive into the Thames.


As the splash of the cold water hit her through the driver’s open window, she sputtered, the driver a little lost in his own world. Logan finally took an actual view of the passengers, seeing a young child in the bus. The water was quickly filling the sinking vessel, but she still instructed the driver to open the door. Once that was accomplished, Logan started moving, driven by the fact that she couldn’t watch others die in front of her.


The man who caused the crash seemed to be able to handle himself, so Logan continued on, helping those who needed it. Luckily there were some floatables making their way into the water by some helpful citizens, it was a great help for her. There was also a few that were doing the same as her, trying to help as many people as they could get out of the bus that was now completely submerged in the water.


Logan did not have a death wish though, there came a time when she herself couldn’t descend to the bus’ level with her lung capacity. It was then she had to give up, despite the people that were still trapped inside the transport. As she pulled herself up onto dry land, she choked out the water she swallowed, and realized with disarray she had been separated from the group.


It was preferred that way in her mind, she simply helped them out of the bus; it didn’t really matter to her about credit or not. In the news’ story her head had even been counted as one missing.


---


It was ironic really…here she was working a case where she was probably one of the prime suspects. Out of the patrons inside the bus she was the closest to the bus driver and the first other than him to be hit by the water of the Thames. She rather not be involved, but to turn down this opportunity would be rather stupid on her part. There was also a chance to work with one of the most dangerous lawyers in London, which slightly interested her.


Having already called a cab, she slipped a simple black headband into her pulled back hair, fluffing out the bun slightly with her hands. After stepping into some white pumps that complimented the slightly loose button-up she had on of the same color, she checked her watch before rushing out the door. Her lacy skirt billowed in the wind somewhat, but luckily Logan had decided tights were a good choice for the March weather. A cab ride later and she was in front of the business like building, making sure to tip the driver for managing to get her through the morning traffic.


Clenching her satchel close, she puts her game face on before entering the building and heading straight for the front desk. It takes a long moment for the woman to notice her, and she swears the receptionist looks in her direction twice with no service. Finally when another figure approaches and is about to cut her in line, Logan calls out, a scathing tone that has both reeling. They look more surprised than hurt, which she barely notices in her frustration. Reporting in, she is directed to the proper briefing room and sent away with an apology for ignoring her.


“Yeah right” she notes under her breath on the elevator ride up, rolling her eyes as she waits for her floor. When it does, she sighs, stepping out and moving out of the way before slightly recovering from the slight. Finally, gathering herself, she enters the debriefing room with a smile, “Garrick Rake?” she questions despite knowing. “I’ll be taking notes for you today” she announces, sticking her hand out to the man she had often seen on the news. Silently she pleas nobody will recognize her, but she guessed they would of all been too shocked to take notice of her.

 

[Dylan.]

As the taxi pulled up, the young girl took a moment to look at the building through clear glass. Taking in the stories, the people on the street and those going in and out through revolving doors. Like real life magic, one walked in to be replaced by another entirely different coming out. She had always disliked those doors as a child, did not want to get lost in some unknown place and so had closed eyes with every passing.


"Here y'are sweetheart", turning back to the driver and moving forward in her seat the coins dropped into a small palm neatly and she tucked them away as she scooted over to the opposite door, stepping out onto the curb. She would simultaneously thank the man as she pulled up her rucksack from behind the seat, wishing him a good day, and then like many a customer before her she slammed the door shut in his face without a second glance, the driver pulling off without much of a look back.


And was the end of their short lived business arrangement.


Pulling up her collar against the cold and hoisting up her rucksack Mia half jogged to the nearby crossing, waiting for the little green man that liked to keep walkers and vehicles waiting alike, a hand rising in thanks to the driver despite it being deemed unrequired. Closing eyes as she pushed the revolving door only to let out grateful exclamation, grateful for the blast of warm air that greeted her. A face at the echo, bowing quick in apology to the nearby men in suits, eyes scanning and uncertain as she moved slowly toward the main reception.


"I have this letter..." The girl began as the woman eyed her suspiciously, dropping the bag from a shoulder to search within, rummaging only to pause and 'Ah' in memory as she moved the hand to her front pocket, pulling a face as she was certain she had the name wrong. "It's from a..." She unfolded the letter, placing it on the surface between them, eyes moving down to the 'Sincerely' as she zipped up her bag, "A Garrick Rake? It's about the London travel... case. He is holding a meeting...? My name is Mia Patel"


The woman behind the desk had already picked up the letter, glancing over it carefully only for those eyes to move back up to the girl before her as it lowered, listening to her, but remaining unhelpful, "I'm sorry, but it appears this letter is an invitation to your parents?" ... Clearly this was not a child friendly firm.


"I know, they are meeting me here." Mia said, expecting to be escorted or at least shown the way to the conference room where the meeting would be taking place. Fat chance.


"Then you are welcome to sit and wait over here" The woman gestured instead.


"Can't I just go inside and wait?"


"I'm sorry, but I cannot let you go in without an adult or guardian supervising."


"Then can't you just call this fellow?" Mia pointed at the letter at Garrick's name.


"I'm sorry, but if you could kindly wait over there until your parents arrive... Thank you"


Mia found herself growing uncomfortable as she nonetheless continued the charade they both knew was a lie. Taking the letter and picking up her bag, slowly trudging toward the nearby sofa, loosening her jacket as the warm comforting air soon became stifling.

 

[Chaotic]

She had this dream before. Its images and sensations had been etched firmly in her memory since the first time she had dreamt it. She remembered the way the cool bus window had felt against her forehead as she stared blankly out of it. Then, without warning, the scenery had swerved around the vehicle in a way that was relatively unnatural for how they had been moving. Her head had made contact with the glass hard which had made the world fade to a foggy white for a moment before the chill of water had drawn her from the edge of oblivion and back into her seat. She remembered how frightened she had been - so much so that she recalled being incapable of finding her way out of the water in spite of how shallow it was at that point in the bus . . .


The images on her television shifted as the reporters switched over from talking with experts on the case to showing a recap of the events that had happened when the bus had crashed. She watched the camera pan over a view of the victims of the tragic crash before pausing as she saw herself near the corner of the screen for a split second. Her nearly drowned form was shivering as a member of the emergency response team tried desperately to calm her hysterics . . . Oh god, if that hadn’t been a dream then . . .


The girl bolted out of her chair, dropping her already chipped tea cup to the floor and attempting to ignore the shattered glass and scalding water as she sprinted quickly to her kitchen table before throwing most of her mail around the room. Finally finding the rather pompous and professional looking envelope she had known would be here once she had distinguished between reality and fiction, she ran quickly to her closet as she shed layers of clothes en route. Choosing a yellow, front button summer dress from the usually ignored side of her wardrobe, she threw it on with a pair of neon purple and silver shoes before sprinting out her front door. A few seconds later, she returned to reclaim the letter which she had forgotten on the bed before proceeded to leave again in much the same fashion.


---


It was a good twenty to thirty minutes later that she arrived, still running, at the designated law firm. Skin shimmering under a thin layer of sweat, the frazzled girl paused at the receptionist’s counter for a moment as she tried to catch her breath enough to speak. Finding that she didn’t really care for that endeavor, she instead lifted the letter up to show the woman the reason for her presence. The secretary gave her a rather disapproving scowl but gestured to the room nevertheless as she offered her admittance. Rosalie smiled her gratitude before running off again towards the room.


When she finally opened the door it became apparent that she was among the last of the people to arrive. Blushing slightly at the crowd already gathered, she tried to smooth out her dress as best she could but stopped, mortified, as she noticed that she had buttoned it unevenly which seemed to be resulting in it riding up her left leg in a mostly risqué fashion. She took her seat quickly as the crimson of her blush moved to kiss at her ears and shoulders as well as at her cheeks. This rather obviously ruined her attempt at acting as though her wardrobe malfunction didn’t matter to her.


Staring down at her clasped hands, the girl avoided making eye contact with any of the other victims as she waited. She felt confident that she wouldn’t be left in this state of obvious discomfort for long because she reasoned that the meeting would eventually divert their attention. In the meantime, she would simply have to daydream in hopes of calming her scattered nerves . . .