Chloe made no attempt in keeping her steps silent as she leapt out of her window.

The impact was short, and she rolled over to be on her knees, her palms grazing the zinc rooftop.
The air in the quiet wee hours sent a simmer of chill to her skin. The air had a stale, earthy scent, and the roof felt hard and cold from her touch.
The city of Marousi, Athens was vibrant and bright even at such a time of 3.00 o'clock in the morning. The particular neighborhood she lived in contributed along, few houses here and there still bright and loud.

Not that I care.
She heard a creak of a door, and pursed her lips, her hands balling into tight grips of fists.

"Chloe."
Her eyes were fixed on the brick red roof tiles, not bothering to master a response.

"Chloe," the voice of the elderly woman was strained. "Please, at least look at me."

And be deceived by more lies?
I don't think so.

"I can't look at liars," she answered sharply, her voice rasped. "I can't look at traitors."

"Chloe-" she paused, then croaked, "What would the neighbors say? Going out at 3 o'clock like this?"

"I don't care what the neighbors say. They're not important and they can't be trusted."

"Neighbours help when you're in trouble-"
"You can't be trusted, too."

"Your parents would be upset if they saw you treating your grandmother like this."
She looked up, her heart in flames and her eyes scorning at the wrinkled, pale face above her. Her grandmother had the kind grey eyes, but she failed to see it as welcoming or warm after what happened. "Don't talk about my parents."

"They want you to live happily, Chloe."

"And I would live happily, if only you told me the truth from the start," she growled. "Damn it all. What do I care about what my parents want?"

They don't care about me.

She jerked onto her feet, and secured a grip on the edge of zinc. It was even colder by the corners, though sweat dampened her palms.
"They loved you."

Her face felt warm with heat, as if coming from the steam of bubbling anger within her. Her eyes felt tight, taut, and her knuckles looked pale as paper.

"If they did, then they shouldn't have left me. They should've raised me," she gritted her teeth, the pulse of her heart beating faster. "But here I am."

She tightened her grip, and leapt down, reaching the ground nimbly on her feet, crouching down for stability before rising to full height. The chill finally tickled her bare neck despite the hair she let down freely over her shoulders.

"I do not allow you to do this. To go out at any time to go on a mission fighting things unknown. I do not give my consent for you to be a theama, Chloe Malakós."

A grunt escaped her lips. "I don't need your consent."
"To be a qualified Sight, you must have the consent of a family member."

"You're not my family," she said. "At least not one I trust. Not grandpa either. None of you, really."

It was as if her heart tensed as her muscles as the silent moment past. Then there was an incredibly heartbroken cry, "I'm sorry, Chloe. We were trying to protect you."

Protect me?
What you did was hurt me.

"Then why did you lie, grandma?" it was a whisper, but she heard it well.

"I'm sorry."

Her heart felt like it was being pulled by a string, and tugged, an odd wave of heat in her chest.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Good night, grandma."

Her window was thumped shut with a loud thud as she hurried off to the better-lit parts of the city.

It took almost 10 minutes for her to walk over all the way to the biggest mall in town. And the route included crawling through old tunnels, leaping on building roofs and slipping through the dangerous dark alleys by the buildings. There would be at most a street gang or two, but none would notice her silent presence, like a shadow in corners.

It's not like I can't take on them myself, anyway.

The air was drier, and there was certainly more noise in these parts. Streetlights appeared like a mere object present among the more eye-catching glowing neon signs of blue pink and red.

The mall was closed, like a solid concrete building staying still in the middle of chaos. All the lights were off and as she came near, only a few loading trucks made an appearance by the parking lot.
And of course, a tall man leaning against a fiat 131, in pale red though dark brown in the dark.

He took note of her stomps his way, and shook his head. "5 minutes late. I don't have all day."

"It's three in the morning."

He raised a his watch around his wrist, the other hand wriggling a finger. "Tut-tut. It's three twenty one in the morning."

"It's not like you have work to do or anything," she rolled her eyes. "If you don't want to send me, I can always find a taxi somewhere."

"No, no," he groaned. "There's not that much taxi this early, and if anything happens to you, I'll be responsible and if I don't help you, I would be blabbled at for all the supporting the next generation bullshit," he ruffled his dark locks, a clear wince on his acned, newly-shaven face. "Get in the car."

Chloe pulled the door open and slid in to gunshot seat. There was that familiar odor of prawn and peppers and bad deodorant, her elbows grazing over the usual tight leather seat. The man cranked the door open with a sigh and slammed it shut as he settled himself in.

"My girlfriend won't like seeing me in a car with you."
"You have a girlfriend?"

"Well, no," his fingers flicked the switches on, twisted the keys, started the engine and turned on the radio. "But I'm sure that's why I don't have one yet."

A small breeze from the air-conditioning brushed her skin. She pulled out and fiddled with her necklace, the orange thing impassive and dull.

Athena Parthenon.
She could still recall the whole image in sand pictured by her very eyes, the monument clear and known.

They're calling me.
They're actually calling me.

She didn't realise when the car started to move, but it didn't matter. "Where to?"

"Athena Parthenon," the slip of words from her lips sounded very unlike her--in a soft and relieved whisper--instead of the lashes of her cold and sharp choices of words.

"Woah," he replied, eyes a little widening, but still focused on the road. There wasn't nearly much cars at all but no one wanted to make a case of brokem buildings or ruined gardens or stolen trashcans. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously, Alistair," her guarded voice came back, though with a tinge of smug, pressing on a word.

"You can't be called until you reach 18," he shook his head. "Impossible."

"Do I look like a liar?" she scoffed. "I hate liars."
"Yeah, I know that, but still," he shrugged. "What the hell were they thinking? Calling this 16 year old girl for some kind of mission?"

She tapped her nails against the gem she stared at for long.
It's quite nice if it can flash again.
Just once more.

Chloe felt the feeling of utmost pride and smug foreign to her. She cursed herself for hoping things to happen--dreams of what may be the cause. Sure, all Sights needed to dream to believe, but the aspect of her dream was quite ridiculous. Though deep down, tugging her heartstrings, there was still the desire--to show, to prove her statement.
Because I'm not a liar.

"You think I am incapable?"

"No," he frowned. "I'm saying you're young and raw and has a lot more to enjoy before handling all this... responsibility in life."

"I have nothing much to enjoy. You thought wrong."

"Well, I've never seen you with any friends," he leaned back, one hand on steering wheel and the other scratching his ear. "And you've never talked about any."

"I don't have friends," she said with as much insistence as possible. As sharply as possible. "And I don't need any. Working alone is better."

"Hey, without my help, you'll have to walk hours to the Parthenon, you know."
"You're a useful driver acquaintance, Alistair."

"Sure I am," he remarked. "But what about acquaintances your age?"

A rumble purred out from her throat.
"There's Ulrike. And Tacitus. And Aphra."

"Ulrike and Tacitus are older than me, and Aphra is thousands years old," he paused. "I said your age, Chloe."

"I'm not much of a friendly talker."

"Well that's obvious," he said under his breath, then raised his voice as if realising she could hear him loud and clear. "All you talk about is about being a theama," he sighed. "I guess I should've expected that."

"Why'd you care about my acquaintances?"
"Because you'll be wishing you have many when you become an official theama," he tilted his head to peek a glance at her.

"Is there any teenager theama?"
"Well, remember Donna and Harriet? And Sakima?"

"Donna and Harriet were idiots."

"They were trying to help you."

"What they did help in was making my job harder, getting into trouble," she scoffed. "I work alone."

She could still remember her experience with the twins. They almost exposed them to authorities out of their constant rivalry, and she saved the day all by herself anyway.

"I just..." he mumbled gibberish, then blurted, "I had this weird feeling like something bad will happen soon."

"It won't involve me."

Even she thought it could be a lie.

When they both had nothing to say, Alistair twisted a button, the volume of some country song rising and filling the quiet void.

I'm going to Athena Parthenon.
I'm called to a mission.
I'm requested of presence with the League of the Sights.

Though the job came with killing monsters and being on high alert, Chloe had never felt so flushed in excitement her whole life.

"Payment?" she stated as she pushed the door open. Alistair's brown gaze was a shade darker, his hair like shadows over his sharp face. Still, he leaned back and spread his arms in an attempt of casuality.

She didn't understand why he was so bothered.

"Just find something nice for 5-years old girls. My niece's birthday is coming next week and this Uncle Alistair is not going to let her down."

"Does she like castles?"

"Yes."

"Pink?"

"No," he closed his eyes for a moment, then leaned forward. "She likes it gold."

Chloe jerked her head in a curt nod.

"I'll wait here in case you need a ride back home," he gave her an unsettling smile, a certain dark mood over it. "Good luck."

"It's just the League."
"Just the League?"

She gave no response, already on her way to the Athena Parthenon, quiet as a ghost.

Home, sweet home.