But you get what I mean, right? This is just some weird phase she's going through, she doesn't actually hate me.

I'm proud of her, you know. Really, I am. She's working on some miracle chip of some sort. She hasn't said much, but the mad scientist of the family is brewing up something big. I can just tell. All I know is that it's supposed to end everyone's pain. Big goal, but I have faith in her.

I just wish she'd let me in...
Thanks for listening, anyway. I really feel connected with you, Ryia, even we've never actually met. I can just tell you anything.

He reads the last few paragraphs off like a burst of shallow wind, thick with dust and the smell of decaying leaves. I tap my fingers against the grated table, brows stitched in an angry furrow. Did he actually expect to find the answers in my letters?

Yes, we'd been pen pals for years. Some of my best childhood memories were us writing back and forth. But it wasn't like Angelica was privy to her sister's evil scheme. This entire exercise is pointless. Even if she had been in the know, why tell a friend from halfway around the world?

"There needs to be something here. There needs to be."

Jeez.

I roll my eyes, resting the tops of my shoulders against my chair. The metal chills my bare skin. 

"Sorry to disappoint you," I say. "Looks like you snatched me from the hospital and killed that man for nothing. I feel the utmost unrest for you right now-"

"Kid, stop it with the sarcasm. Don't you know what this means? Not just for you and me, but for everyone?"

I stare at him blankly.

"The implant has the ability to destroy us from the inside out. So please, please try to at least pretend to be interested in helping me solve this."

I say nothing, teeth clenched. I still couldn't believe what he did at the hospital, and why he was so bothered. Why so certain. Yeah sure, the Achelois chip seemed like a bit of a stretch. Bringing people eternal glee with just a simple implant sounds ridiculous. And why would someone possibly use that for a more sinister purpose?

But the most mind-boggling question of all is what benevolent all powerful force was holding me back from throttling him in his sorry face.

He goes back to reading the letters, now skipping to the next wrinkled sheet. This time, he reads in his head, eyes frantically scanning up and down and left and right. I can't help but wonder exactly what he meant by 'destroying us from the inside out'. I look down, my broken reflection looking back at me on the wooden table.

That's when the banging starts.

I jump, hands immediately molded into fists. Tyr has a similar reaction. Only, his fingers produce his weapon, ripped out of his pocket before I can even blink.

"Easy..." I murmur, half speaking to myself.

"Don't suppose that's your uncle?"

"Wish it were, but he's a pretty quiet fellow."

"Hard to be loud with such a big personality around. Can't exactly blame him."

My jaw contorts with a petty rage. Before I can throw a jab back, the sound punches a hole through the door. An explosion of wood and dust bits give way to sunlight. The pure white color contrasts the heavy, dark and pointed object that enters through the hole.

It doesn't look like a gun or a knife, but I know it's not good. Almost like a robotic finger, sent from Hell on a mission of conquest.

"Is there another way out?!"

Tyr stuffs the letters anywhere that fits, from his pockets to his sleeves and then even his socks. His brow is a furrowed frenzy, left hand still bearing his gun.

And I thought I was terrified.

"There's a backdoor in the basement-"

"Get moving."

I nod, my very center too shaken to speak further. I swear I feel my bones rattle as the hole grows wider.

Crash, scratch, bang, click...

Tyr and I rush to out of the kitchen and down the hall. The door gleams an almost golden color in the dusty light. Even when I'm right in front of it, the clicking metallic sound from the kitchen makes our exit seem out of reach. As I fumble with the handle I swear I can see another metal finger join the other, until a full ghostly hand unlocks the door. Tyr has his weapon pointed towards the kitchen the entire time, even as we scramble into the basement. I don't even bother to turn the lights on, welcoming the dark depths, hoping they'll somehow mask us from the intruder.

Click, thump, click, thump...

The backdoor breaks one of its hinges as I throw it open. We don't bother to turn around, both of us very aware of what's moving down the stairs.

Past the tiny, unkempt garden. Through the metal gate, thankfully left ajar. Down the street. Tyr never leaves my side, and his gun never leaves his.

"I know there's a teleporter at a gas station not far from here! Three blocks down, I think!"

"There's-"

Bang

A scream ripples past my lips. The bullet barely misses, instead slamming into the neck of a mailbox. The thing topples over envelopes as white as snow spilling across the pavement.

"-No time!"

He barely finishes his sentence when the next bullet cascades across the road, sparks trailing. I run with the power of lightning, the aching in my feet no longer mattering. Somehow, I block out the screams of my body, not anywhere close to being fully healed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can spot him. The silly man is fiddling with his watch, for christ sake! The urge to slap him strikes me yet again. If we make it out of this warzone alive, I have a feeling it won't be the last time, either.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"Communicating!"

"With who? The pizza man?"

Another bullet whizzes by, striking the edge of my shoulder. It barely touches me, but the ripped away fabric reveals a sizzling red. The stinging feels like a flash of fire that will never cease. My teeth slam on my lips as if they're breaks on a car trying to avoid the tears flowing down my cheeks. Despite my will still strong as stone, my legs begin to falter.

I don't think I can take much more of this.

Tyr notices my injury and moves closer, still tumbling forward at full speed. There's real concern in his eyes.

"Are you hurt?"

"Naw," I manage to say. "Being hit by bullets and chased through my own neighborhood is just another boring old Tuesday to me."

For once, he cracks a smile. Then, he turns around and starts to fire. Each ring reminds me of a firecracker. I don't dare look back just yet, instead focusing all my energy on throttling forward into a sideroad. I know this road will lead us deeper into town. Hopefully, we'll stumble across some help.

"Hold on!"

He's suddenly holding my wrist, stopping behind a large tree rooted on the corner. My feet holler and squawk with agony, the rest of my body too tired to join in. Before I can ask any questions, I hear a thunderous hum of an engine. Wheels zoom along the road, the gleam of black metal coming closer and closer the louder and louder the sounds grow.

The machine comes to a stop in front of Tyr. He doesn't hesitate, hoping on and dragging me along with him.

"Let me guess," I say. "This is what you were 'communicating' with? Your motorcycle?"

"Your guess is right on the money."

He takes off without another word. The sounds of bullets become more furious, bangs clamoring in a fashion that makes my teeth clench. I hang on to his shoulders, head buried in his mid back. My hair whips all around me, a tornado of black, blinding me to my surroundings.

Everything feels frozen as we move faster than light itself. The wind falls silent as it barrages my face, again and again, using my own hair as whips against me. The stinging in my shoulder has not ended. The waves of pain have come again, only now in the physical. Fear and pain have taken over. The two make for a cruel dictator, as there are no sounds, no sights, no smells. Nothing.

Nothing until the bullet cuts into his back.

We seem to scream together. The metal rips into his shirt. I swear I can feel the heat from the bullet. Everything seems to crash together. Sounds, blaring and loud. The faint smell of blood wafting from my shoulder. And the zooming of cars as we move down the now-crowded road. The motorcycle shifts towards the side of the road. Tyr somehow is able to regain control, but I can feel his body shaking.

There's no blood yet, but I know it's just a matter of time until it starts to flow.

"Tyr!"

"It's okay!" he somehow manages to say. "Don't worry about it! Just keep holding on and try not to look back."

Part of me wants to do what he says. Maybe that part of me wanted to blame the screams of the highway and the distracting odor of exhaust for mixing up his words, blurring his command. Either way, my rebellious nature comes out, and I look back at our attacker.

Recognizing his bland features was not something I was counting on. My jaw drops past my chin, breath ripped out piece by piece. Our attacker has the same dull, gray eyes. The same sharpness in his jaw, fabric-like hair. He even still dons the same black suit.

He is the man Tyr had killed back in the hospital. The Henchman. The only two differences are the shiny silver cycle he rides on, and a pair of metallic arms. This man, if I can even call him that, is far from human.

I wish I hadn't looked back.

"Do you trust me?!"

"What?!" I can barely hear him, despite the screaming.

"Don't let go!"

I plunge my face into his back. His skin is surprisingly cool. It distracts me from the harmony of honking and screech of car tires. Gravity tugs at my body as we turn suddenly. My knuckles bleed white as I tighten my grip, heart racing faster than the engine of the cycle. I hold my breath as the smoothness of the road disappears, replaced with rutted, uneven turf. I have no choice but to suddenly look up...

...Only to be hit smack dab in the face with a large tree branch.

No thoughts left over. Pain blares. Darkness ensues.

---

 "Angelica?"

I resist the itch deep inside me, the boiling urge to break my composure. My sister, as harmless as a dove with two broken wings, sits. I do allow myself a small smirk, the faked kindness still tinkering around my eyes. While I know I must fake sincerity, I can allow my true colors to show, if only a little, to her.

Her eyes slowly creep open. The gunmetal blue color is dulled, her eyes glazed over as if turned to glass. I lean forward ever so slightly, my arms pressed firmly against my back in a neat, controlled fashion. If only she could, she would scream. Instead, her weak, pale face nods, acknowledging me at last.

"May I have a moment alone with my sister?" I say, turning to the cameras. "You...can't truly ever imagine how...heartbreaking this is for me. For both of us, actually."

I let my arms drop, swinging back and forth with a heavy lethargy. I turn my ruby red lips into a smile, making sure the rest of my face is baptized with a cracking sadness and anxiety. The sea of reporters and TV crews nod, understanding in their footsteps as they scoot out of the hospital room.

Complete, utter putty in my hands. My, how easily humanity tumbles to the tug on their own heartstrings. One word, one gesture, and I had power.

"Angelica, darling," I say as I close the door.

No more pretending to be someone that I'm not.

"I can't believe you'll never know how fun it really is to be in my position. The adrenaline in my veins compares to nothing, sweet baby sister. Well, maybe it matches the intensity of the pain my Achelois Chip produces."

I stroke her face. She snaps her eyes shut, teeth bared, wincing. Angelica is too sick now to do much more than prepare to die.

"It's a shame my weapon kills so many so easily...My only regret is that you won't live long enough to see me truly shine."

With one final burst of willpower, she raises a skinny arm and throws it towards me. I catch it easily, rolling my eyes.

"Tsk, tsk, baby sister. You wouldn't want to hurt me now, would you?"

"Why?"

I bite my lip in an effort to keep my laugh in my throat, wary of alerting the press. Oh my, she sounds absolutely awful. My smile knows no ends as I get up, intent on answering her.

"Because now you know," I say, walking towards the door. "Have fun dying, baby sister. I suppose at this point you're probably begging God to put you six feet under."

"Ryia..."

I stop suddenly, two inches away from the door. The name Ryia is unfamiliar, but there's a flicker of something behind the two syllables.

"I'm tired of hearing your incessant babbling, Angelica."

"She...Ryia knows. She'll stop you."

I narrow my eyes, teeth clenched. In the reflection of the glass window, I can see a wolf where I should be standing.

"Didn't know my chip made people insane."

Angelica laughs. I feel a chill run down my spine. The vengeful sound echoes, delivering a punch to my gut. Yes, my chip was designed to bring happiness, and yes, laughter was now commonplace among my victims. But unlike the empty, light fluttering sounds I'd grown accustomed to, this is dark. This is real.

"I can't wait until you die."

I turn around and open the door. For once in my long trip to conquest, the press see what I truly am, what I truly feel. They see my rabid eyes, tight jaw, accusing glance. I rush off down the hall before any questions could be asked.

"Henchman!" I say, shutting the door to my own personal lobby. Within a second, my android appears on a holographic screen.

"Update on that traitor, agent Tyr!"

"Still on the move-"

"How could you fail me like that?!"

I slam my fist on a nearby table.

"I..I..my darling," he stammers. For an AI, he wasn't the most articulate fellow. Pathetic.

"He will be caught momentarily. He's traveling with a girl for unknown reasons. But I'll have both in captivity soon."

"You better," I spit venom. "Goodbye, Henchman."

I press a button and silence his image. I had a sickening feeling that this girl that Tyr was with...she must be Ryia.

She must be Ryia, and she must be eliminated.

-----

The throbbing in my head feels like fire. Tyr's rushing voice doesn't help.

So, today wasn't the best. Sis was in a bad mood...I'm so sorry for always complaining about my troubles, I know you have your own, but it just feels better to get this all off my chest.

"Do you have to read those letters out loud?"

"You're awake."

I sit up, feeling a flurry of sickness taking over me. Sure, it might've been because of my head trauma, but in reality, I think it's because of what I see before me. Tyr, sitting only a few feet in front of me, shirt off to reveal something quite sinister. His skin gleams a sickish silver, the texture unbelievably smooth. He's been trying to fish the bullet out of his back, having little luck in prying it from his glossy skin.

This is why he would not bleed.

"You're...you're not human?"

He raises his hands in a calming motion, a look of concern splashed in his eyes.

"Don't hold it against me. I can't help what she made me into...If it helps, I'm not completely robotic."

"You're a...cyborg?"

I choke on the word as if it were hot lava. He only nods, already putting his shirt back on. There's a dirty taste in my mouth. Like I'd just swallowed a handful of dirt.

"We better move," he says. "I have a feeling she's going to be on our trail now that her Henchman has failed."

"Who said anything about me going with you?"

He looks at me, suddenly frozen in a mix of time and anguish. I sit up further, leaning my weight against my wrists. They fair well enough, so I continue speaking.

"I'm hurt, in case you hadn't noticed. You got those letters, what more do you want from me?"

"It's not like I enjoy putting civilians in danger, trust me, you're far from easy to work with. But both of us are far too roped up in all of this to leave now. I might've gotten what I wanted, but she hasn't. She will come after you. It's what villains do. Our only hope is to figure out how to undo all the damage she's caused, and to stop it from spreading further."

"What damage is she causing, anyway? It's not like anyone can actually afford her implant in the first place."

He raises an eyebrow, snatching up a small device that remains unknown to me.

"You really think she cares about money at this point?"

Without another word he flips on a TV screen, immediately plugging in a national news channel. The first image that I see is a woman, a reporter, with tears running down her eyes. I gasp, but my shock doesn't end there. According to her shambled words, she's in front of a hospital where thousands are begging to be readmitted after having their chips implanted.

"They're sick. They're dying. And there are millions more like them across the world."

Her words are a never ending gong. I wince, my wrists suddenly unable to hold me up. Tyr lets me truly digest the situation, the smile-stricken teary eyed faces and worried families the camera cuts back and forth to, before pushing the button.

And they're gone. But I fear I will never forget.

"Ready to go, then?"

"I...where are we going?"

He doesn't respond, instead pulling me to my feet.

"To the warfront, of course."

-----

Angelica O'Mallery.

Critical Condition.

Between the onslaughts of flames, I make out those two words right next to my bedspread. At this point, I'm unable to move my head. Unable to much more than think.

Think, and of course, smile.

All I can do is smile. No matter how much it hurts, the damned chip only lets me smile. I feel like blood is pouring from every pore in my body. The blood turns to gasoline and doused and drowning I am suddenly up in flames. A living candle who's about to go out.

I think I'm back home now, but I'm not sure. I know that I, hospital bed and all, was moved somewhere else. Hell, it might've been another hospital room, but the sterile smell of medicine and latex gloves has left.

A scowl would grace my lips if I physically could. Oh, how I pray for a scowl. If I'm somehow saved from Hell, I know that I'll never smile again. Never, ever.

I close my eyes, my body exhausted but unable to sleep. I think that's what's killing me. Being awake all the time. All because my sister is a psychopathic genius with a large wallet.

I'm not sure if I want to die, or to just fall asleep.

------

The house is coated with ivory and gold, stretching at least five stories. Other smaller, yet still breathtakingly beautiful buildings are littered behind the main house. The word palace would better suit this corner of the universe, clearly only fit for a king and his court.

Tyr's warfront looks like heaven.

"Are you sure about this?" I ask, mentally reviewing his plan over and over again. My stomach is in knots.

"No."

"I thought robots were supposed to be smart."

He sighs heavily. From our shadowy hideout, I can make out him rolling his eyes.

"Cyborg."

"From my perspective, there isn't much of a difference."

He chuckles dryly, ignoring my comment.

"Statistically, it's our best chance of success. Got it?"

I don't respond, instead clutching the back of the motorcycle. My heart pounds like an angry drummer. This mission is basically suicide.

"Ready?"

"I guess."

With that, the engine purrs to life. We leave the trees behind, chasing the back door of the house. Tyr had managed to disable the security system somehow, but our cover would only hold until we got into the mansion. Every moment would count.

The cycle rams through the door, Tyr's body absorbing most of the hit, the bike taking the rest. No alarms go off as we plunge through the hall. Darkness bleeds through the air, choking us as the corners get tighter and tighter. But something is still off.

Disregarding us, everything is silent. Nothing moves. Nobody is here. We are in a graveyard coated in luxuries.

He suddenly stops in front of a large staircase.

"Ryia, get off," he says. "Angelica should be in one of the rooms upstairs. Figure out which letter we need and get her out of here. She needs to go under surgery once all of this is over."

"Where are you going?"

"Angelica's only one piece of this puzzle. If you can save her, that's great. But there's still so much more of my mess that I need to clean up."

"Your mess?"

"Good luck."

He kicks the bike up, and Tyr is swallowed by the shadows.

My first time seeing Angelica face to face shouldn't have been like this.

I'd always imagined her as a lively, energetic person. The classic happy girl you'd see on TV and in magazines. Not the pale and gaunt woman who lies before me, sprawled awkwardly in bed, as if in gut wrenching pain. Between the giggly groans and the door cracked open ever so slightly, it was easy to find her.

"Angelica?"

She laughs. Her voice is parched, cracking like a bone in the middle of the desert. I sit on the edge of her bed, not completely sure of how to say what needed to be said. Hell, I didn't even fully believe that she would be able to answer. Her eyes are screaming in the face of Death.

"Ryyyiaa?" The word is long and drawn out.

"Angelica," I say again, forcing myself to form words. "We're here to help you with your sister. You're going to help, too. All we need to know is which one of the letters to look at in order to stop her."

As I speak I pull out the crumpled papers. Some are tarnished with water, others torn at the seams. All look as if they've just passed under the nose of Hades himself.

"Ryia?"

Angelica tries to raise her hand but barely succeeds in raising a single finger. Heartbreak mixes with irritation. How the hell could I expect someone as sick as this to remember a little detail she left in a letter? I caress her glossy hair, trying to comfort her as she processes all of this.

"Fail..."

"Yes?" I say, leaning in. She repeats herself again, getting nowhere. I resist the urge to throw my hands in the air and scream myself blue in the face.

"Fail...safe."

The memory bolts back to me, clear as ever. I remember the day when I opened that letter. The smell of a storm on the horizon, my siblings playing out in the yard. The papercut I received after prying it open. And, most importantly, what was said.

....The mad scientist of our family is starting to scare me. I overheard her tell her the computer, yeah, her computer, the one she keeps calling "Henchman", that there was a fail safe to her invention. Why she'd need a fail safe for something as great as her Achelois chip, I have no idea.

The crazy thing was she said she was going to install it...in her own brain. And that if she ever died her "fun" would end for everyone....

Her fun would end for everyone.

"Tyr!" I scream, leaping from the bed. I can hear Angelica shuffle about behind me. I feel a bit bad for leaving her behind, but the explosive knowledge I now had was charged and ready to go off.

I need to find Tyr. Before Mickey O'Mallery, the mad scientist of the family, does.

I feel like a tiger leaping back down those stairs. You couldn't have paid me to care about the clamoring thumps and all the attention I could be attracting. I am a driving force bent on a single motive; Find Try, and tell him of the letter.

Where could that robotic bastard have gone?!

"Tyr!" I screech like a dying bird. "Tyr! I know how to stop the chips!"

I search the entire house. Every room, every nook, and cranny. Despite my best efforts, every sight is the same. I throw open a door, look out a window, peer into a shadow, only to find a cool draft and a hellhole full of nothing. The fire in me burns louder as the once humongous palace shrinks until there's nothing left.

"Tyr!"

Had they left the house? Why did that jackass leave the house?!

Bam

The bullet draws me in like a moth. I run out towards the backyard, slipping and sliding over the wooden floors as if it were ice. Refusing to fall, I burst out onto the grassy ground. The air is significantly colder outside. The stars are bitter bulbs barely hanging onto life, the moon nonexistent.

Tyr and O'Mallery are right in front of me, eyes locked. By the looks of it neither had noticed me.

"I created you! And this is how you repay me? Running off to the government, and then to that damned girl? All of you wanting nothing more than to ruin my fun?"

She pronounces the last word as if it were poisoned.

"You didn't create me, you killed me! I had a life before getting dragged into all of this!"

"Don't be ridiculous," she spits. "You were nothing before me, and you'll be nothing after me. I am far from merciful, but if you give it up now and tell me where Ryia is then I will let you live. With me. Henchman is a bit of a drab, after all. I'd much rather prefer your company, darling."

He opens his mouth to retort, gun pointed right at her head, but I get in the way first.

"Ahem, Ms," I say. "I'm right here."

Mickey O'Mallery smiles like a viper. I hadn't seen the gun before, she must've pulled it out of her long, silky coat. It's now pointed straight at me, the single, sharp tooth in the snake's mouth. Tyr screams something, something I can't make out. The breeze suddenly whips into a crescendo, leaves whistling, all of nature joining in on the fun.

There's a gunshot, and then Mickey O'Mallery falls to the ground. A low moan escapes her lips as life is snapped out of her eyes. Red gushes from a hole in her forehead. My first, numb instinct is to look to Tyr. He's just a shocked as me, gun unfired and still pointed at the now dead body. His eyes are staring at me.

No, past me.

I turn slowly to see none other than Angelica, shaking and draped in a robe, with a smoking gun in her left palm.

"Angelica?"

She has a scowl on her face, eyebrows furrowed with a fire I've never seen.

"I'm not flaming anymore. It's over."

It's over.