“And no one saw their faces?” Persia dug a hands into his coat pocket in an effort to warm his freezing fingers. Anger had overcome him, yet he didn’t dare show it to the mere security guard beside him. “Eight men chased them, yet none is confident enough to give an identification?”

It seemed as though the heavens had bore tears concerning the current break-in at Kritiker. Persia stood out among a battalion of cop cars and policemen, soaking wet, with a headache so prominent, it caused nausea. Through the gray haze of rain, murky flashes of scarlet and blue blinked onto the faces of passersby. With each yelp of a siren, Persia’s ears would ring, his stomach churning. Unfortunately, he had lost Estelle minutes ago and now stood alone with a sectary guard as his only companion.

“If I remember correctly,” The guard started a bit too eagerly. “Tsukamoto was the closest to the two men as they fled--”

“Two men?” Persia had to shout above the noise, irritating the already lucid ache between his eyes. “Are you sure the trespassers were men?”

“They fought like men.” The guard, a short, timid man by the name of Nanahara, replied. He held an umbrella high over his boss’ head as they made their way past the congested row of police cars. Sidestepping every once in a while, Persia was frustratingly positive that the man hadn’t seen this much excitement in years. “They were incredibly strong as well.”

“Doesn’t mean they were men.” Persia weaved past a trio of cops, nodding politely in their direction. “Are you sure there were only two?”

“That’s what I heard from Tsukamoto…”

“Is he the wounded one?” Persia stopped and glanced around him. Nanahara, struggling to keep the umbrella above his superior’s head, jerked to a halt as well.

“Yes sir, he was.”

“Where’s the ambulance?” Ahead, right underneath the metal awning of Kritiker’s lobby, was the former group of on-duty officers at the time of intrusion. Laying on the ground, kept safe and dry by the policemen surrounding them, were two wounded guardsmen, their heads cushioned by rudimentary pillows.

“I believe there was an emergency in Roppongi.” Nanahara responded promptly. “I heard that even though the death toll is high, the wounded are few. They should be sending an ambulance from there to Kritiker in a few minutes or so.”

“I see.” Persia moved under the awning, shaking his coat off of rain. His hands squeezed shut in an effort to warm themselves. Even a quick huff of breath between cupped fingers didn’t help. “What were the injuries of your men?”

“Well, both Tsukamoto and Masanobu sustained slight concussions.” Nanahara pointed to the two men laid out on the floor. “Masanobu was hit to hard in the neck that he passed out immediately. But, Tsukamoto, we’re not quite sure what happened to him.”

“Well, what did the others say happened?”

“That he ran into a door.”

Persia glanced over to the security guard, but help his comments to himself. Instead, he walked through the main entrance of the building, immediately surprised by the amount of movement and activity coming from within.

“What’s the story on my office.” Persia questioned as he made his way across the foyer. He rubbed his temples seconds before a scowl grew on his lips. The main hall was almost packed, bustling with an unnaturally energetic fervor for this time of night. With the shift change had come more guards. With the overabundant leak of information, so had the buildings normal workers. Citizens too, family members of the wounded guards, stood inside, safe from the torrent of wind and rain outside. Persia contemplated going up to his office, but quickly changed his mind when he spotted Estelle moving towards him.

“All I know is that nothing important was downloaded from your terminal.” Nanahara interrupted. He had stashed the umbrella by the door and now patted his uniform dry. “Warren-sama made sure that all those without proper authority stayed clear of your office room.”

“Arigato.” Persia made eye contact with the light haired beauty from across the room. Slowly, he turned to Nanahara and nodded his head. “That’ll be all.”

“Domo arigato.” The security guards bowed and, within moments, had disappeared amongst the crowd.

Seconds later, Estelle was standing beside Persia, her cell phone clicking shut in her palm. She looked a bit fazed, a bit older then her years. Her eyes were weary, almost tired, her posture looked strained, her shoulders tense. The coat she had been wearing was folded over her left arm, which bounced unsteadily with every step she took. With flushed cheeks, she took on the expression of subdued anger and mild frustration. Likewise, her mouth would tense every few seconds, twisting sideways onto to be bitten by the side of her teeth. The only thing that seemed to give her reassurance was the cell phone in her fingers.

“How’s everything?”

Estelle simply glanced at him, then shook her head.

“Anything missing?” Persia slipped his arm behind Estelle back and gently pushed her through the lobby. “I heard nothing was really touched.”

“A few documents were opened.” Estelle finally replied, her voice surprisingly calm. “Including a list of our ranked teams and a few upcoming mission statements.”

“I thought our system was foolproof.” He helped her slip on her coat, then propped the door open with his foot as they walked out beneath the awning. After tapped an idling guard on the shoulder, Persia and Estelle walked into the rain with a new umbrella.

“Our system is foolproof.” The blond said with a tone of disbelief. “I don’t understand how anyone could have hacked into it.”

A funny thought had occurred to Persia a while before he arrived at Kritiker. Dangerous, yet completely logical, the realization had festered within him on the car ride over. He didn’t dare voice his opinion though. He knew that sort of truth would hurt more then benefit their situation.

“It’s not her.”

“Excuse me?” Persia glanced down at Estelle, only to be met with two jaded eyes. The cool wind had lessened the ache between his temples, but the dipping sensation in his stomach failed to disappear.

“She didn’t do it.”

“What?” He laughed uncomfortably, his pace quickening. He could see their car up ahead, buried behind a police car and a small group of onlookers “I never said Rhiannon did anything.”

“Me either.” She slipped out from beneath the umbrella and walked around the car. In her relaxed arm, a set of keys lazily bumped against the side of her thigh. She stopped momentarily, glanced up, and shook her head. “I don’t want you to ever speak that suspicion to anyone. Do you understand me?”

She spoke with pure, unabated assurance as strands of ashen curls dripping down the apples of her cheeks. Her voice was beautiful strong, filled with pure, brazen words of profound loyalty. Jaw clenched, eyes narrowed and vibrant through the haze, she was the epitome of devotion, the glorification of steadfast alliance.

Persia tried, desperately so, to counteract her view, yet he found no words within himself to lessen the desperate look of conviction in her eyes. His heart gave in and he nodded.

“Promise me one thing.” He called over the hood of the car. Estelle, with her hand now on the opened car door, glanced up. “That you’ll tell Tödliche Künste to be more careful. I doubt I’m the only one who thinks this.”

“You can tell them yourself when they get here.” She responded before slipping into the driver’s seat of her black Bentley. Quick to take off her wet coat, she flung it onto the floor of the backseat. “They should be here soon.”

“That’s who you called before?”

“Yes, I told Rhia that I would wait for them right outside Kritiker.” She replied, reaching over to the radio mid-sentence and fumbling with the knob. “Our conversation was cut short though. The connection failed. Probably because of this storm, it’s messing with the radio as well-- ”

“Rhia?” Persia sat back against the leather seat, wincing slightly as the rain dripped over his coat. Both hands rose behind his head and he looked out onto the scene absentmindedly. “I would have thought you would call Sofia first.”

“She didn’t pick up her phone.”

“Where is she?” Something sparked within Persia and his eyes shifted. The doubt in his mind was growing, little by little. Fuel had been added, wheels had started turning. Something started to reel it’s ugly head.

“She stopped by Takatori Inc. to talk to her father.”

A pang of nausea pierced his stomach.

“Persia?” Estelle had leaned over in her seat, her gloved hand gently touching the side of his arm. Through the static of the radio, Persia started to mumble something beneath his breath, and slowly, slowly tried to quell the paranoia growing within. “Is something wr--”

Estelle, at first, didn’t comprehend what she heard.

“What--”

THUD!

The sudden noise caused Estelle to jerk sideways into Persia, her hands recoiling back to her chest. Through her shirt, her heartbeat raced, painfully so, in sync with the drumming of rain on the car’s hood. An outline of a hand pressed itself against her closed window, then disappeared. It took the blond a few moments too long to reach over and wind down the window.

“Did you hear?!” Rhia appeared through the mist, her face soaked and flushed from exhaustion. Behind her, standing a few feet off, huddled Marie and Autumn, their hands rubbing the sides of their arms in an attempt to keep warm. “I would have told you on the phone, but--”

Estelle, beating past the lethargy that shock had brought to her mind, waved her hand and forced a loving smile on her face. Instantly, the dread in Rhia’s eyes dulled and she stepped back to allow Estelle room to open the door. At the same time, Persia emerged from behind the car, his expression the exact opposite of his partner’s.

“Why was she there alone in the first place?” He asked in an angered, wolfish tone. Rhiannon immediately stepped back, glancing inconsolably at him over the hood.

“We were training a few hours ago,” She tried to explain, obvious that he had already dismissed her excuse. She felt Marie’s fingers grip her arm and mustered the courage to continue. “And she just left to talk to her father.”

“Did she tell you why?”

“No.” Rhiannon shook her head soundly. She was intimidated, yes, and confused over the fact that she was lying, but at the moment it felt necessary. For some reason, she felt a strange opposition in Persia, a strong dislike that frightened her considerably.

“Don’t you think you should have--”

“We’ll go see her.” Estelle suddenly said, her hand waving towards Persia’s to silence him. She stepped forward, her motherly gaze reassuring Rhia that everything was in the right hands. “Rhia, I want you, Autumn and Marie to--”

“We can just stay here.” Persia voiced quickly. Even under the clamor of voices and approaching sirens, he sounded strong and persistent. “The ambulance from Takatori Inc. is supposed to stop here on their way to the Kita Aoyama Hospital. All we have to do is wait.”

“You need to control your temper, bella.” A hand passed over the cheek of a small child, gently pushing away a tangle of dirty curls. The fluent Italian hypnotized the girl, soothing the heated pounding in her head, her swollen eyes, the short, quick rasps of air coming from her small lips. As her face nuzzled into her mother’s neck, the child inhaled the comforting scene of soup and perfume. For the first time that morning, she let out a shallow sigh and closed her eyes.

It was warm that day, sticky almost, with a light haze rolling above the center of the Old Gardens. The woman and her youngest child sat in silence underneath the shade of a willowy oak tree. Resting against the smooth skin of her mother’s chest, the girl absentmindedly fingered a gold chain hanging from her neck. As her small, tearstained fingers touched the metal crucifix, it sparkled in the mid morning sun.

“Whenever your brothers pick on you again, I want you to come to me instead.” The mother said softly. She rested her chin against her daughter’s crown, smiling gently when she felt the girl curl her legs against her stomach. “I’ll protect you.”

The small silence was broken by the sporadic echoes of far off laughter and church bells. The girl clutched her mother’s shirt and in a string of broken Italian, spoke.

“Will you always protect me?”

The woman glanced skyward and smiling. Her fingers touched the head of her daughter’s and she slowly ran them through the thick head of brunette curls.

“Yes, but there will come a point where you will have to protect your father and me.”

The girl nodded against her mother’s neck, still dribbling warm tears onto the russet colored skin.

“I can do that.” She replied quietly, her voice strong for that of a five-year-old’s. “But I don’t think that daddy needs--”

“When he grows old, he’ll learn the error of his ways.” The woman took a deep breath and leaned against the smooth bark of the oak, completely cradling her child in one arms. “Even though he never shows it, he cherishes you with all his heart. You’ll grow up brilliantly strong, and one day you’ll have to leave and protect him from the mistakes of his past.”

“But, until then,” The girl turned her head and glanced across the garden only to see the dark shadows of her brothers playing at the edge of the yard. “You’ll always protect me, right?”

“Of course, Sofia.” The mother gently touched her child’s forehead and kissed it. “In one way or another, I will always be there to hold your hand.”

Her eyes flickered open and, with the darkness, her memories vanished. Sofia was aware that her body was moving, that there were faces and voices around her, but none of it was able to sink into the opaque haze of her mind. The only thing that kept her alert was the uncommonly odd pressure on her arm

“Takatori-sama?”

The voice sounded fuzzy and disoriented, but nonetheless, Sofia turned towards it. A man stood overtop her, his eyes reassuring and kind. She suddenly felt the sensation of deceleration and saw the wall before her give way.

“You sustained minor injuries to your right shoulder, Takatori-sama.” He shook his head at the lack of response on her face. “You’re currently in an ambulance.”

He was met with mild confusion and silence.

“The good news is that your wound was superficial. You won’t need any hospital time or stitches.” The man held up a small plastic bag before her face. Within was a small, bloody piece of torn metal. “This piece of shrapnel was what we found near the surface of the wound.”

Shrapnel? Sofia’s gut lurched forward. A sudden breeze of cool, wet air kept her from vomiting, Not a bullet?

“We were able to stabilize the wound en route to the hospital,” The man moved to the end of her cot, patting her leg gently as he stepped down onto the ground. “But, unfortunately, we received orders from your legal guardian that further medical assistance won’t be needed.”

Legal guardian? Sofia found herself smiling despite the horrendous pain , So he’s ok…

“We have orders to hand you over to a woman by the name of Rhiannon Chasse,” The man continued as he opened the second door to the ambulance and rolled her cot forward. “Though, if you feel like you need medical aid, we’ll be more then happy to take you to Kita Aoyama Hospital--”

“Where are we now?” Her voice was faint and rough. Coughing, she was helped into a seated position with a sense of renewed sincerity in her eyes. “This isn’t--”

Before her, lined neatly by a landscape of fresh, wet grass, was an illuminated sign that read, “Manufacturers Union Bank”.

“The orders from your guardian told us to drop you off here,” The older paramedic smiled gently and reached over to unfasten her from the medical cot. The metal fasteners fell away from her body, clanging against the white steal of the transportable bed. “Which is coincidental because this is the place we were going afterwards if you were dropped off at Kita Aoyama.”

“Why would my father want me dropped off here?” Sofia winced as she swung her legs over the side of the cot. Her eyes were frantically darting around the ambulances interior as a sense of unease swelled within her chest. “Wouldn’t it make more sense if--”

“Your father?” The paramedic shook his head slowly and held out a hand to her. She jerked back, cringing violently at the shooting pains in her shoulder.

“Yes, my father. He’s my guardi--” Sofia opened her mouth to argue, but something suddenly blinked into her mind.

“But,” She shook her head, her free hand nudging away the elder paramedic from helping her. “He doesn’t even know her…”

“I’m sorry, Takatori-sama.” The man helped her to the edge of the ambulance and, slowly, her right foot touched the wet pavement of Kritiker’s main entrance. “Your father was killed in the fire…”

“What?” Sofia shook her head, a strained, hopeless grin growing on her face. She even laughed halfheartedly. “Did’t you say--”

“Because you were wounded and unable to make any crucial decision on your life,” The paramedic held her hand firmly as her other foot touched the ground. “We were unable to do anything without permission from your caregiver.”

“But, you said I don’t have a father…”

“Your well-being was given to whoever was next in line.” He motioned towards the front of the ambulance. “Her name was written down some--”

“Her?” Sofia’s jaw quivered. The pain suddenly disappeared. “But--”

“Sofia?” Warmth suddenly nudged the side of Sofia’s arm, and she soon felt something soft intertwine with her own fingers. She turned and, before her, Sofia gazed into the mesmerizing eyes of Estelle Warren.