Jack and Frank stood in the Great Hall of the strangely vacant hotel. Not a soul breathed or sighed anywhere. Frank frowned, brows shooting downwards; this hotel was usually busy. Then why the pin-drop silence?

An ominous feeling began to creep over him, and he checked the floors, for any signs of ... well, anything unnaturally still that should be moving. Or any suspicious red.

"Jack, do you think-"

Suddenly, an arm slithered around Frank's neck from behind, gripping him tightly.

"Surprise, cousin!" A smiling voice entreated, as Frank struggled for breath.

Jack rushed over to Frank and Angel, and tried to pull the latter off his friend; he hooked his arms under Angels' armpits and yanked viciously.

Something looped before Jack's foot and pulled back, trying to trip him up. Jack's eyes shot to his left; it was that pink-haired girl, Seren or something her name was. In one hand she held a long weapon, like a pink bla-

No. No no no no. He saw wrong.

Maybe it was just a toy, an imitation.

But his vision had been corrected to be better than 20/20. And he could clearly see the company logo pierced into every Nyfe in making, on the girl's blade.

His brown creased as his heart beat quickened and he thought hard, faster. Had they come to take him back to the Academy? How did they find him?

How did these schoolkids have... authorisation to use government-issue weaponry? He was a runaway soldier-in-training. Were they as well? Could they have been sent to retrieve him? His eyes shot to Angel's belt as he spotted the familiar oval, pill-shape of an un-extended Nyfe.

After a rough tussle, Jack finally succeeded in jerking Angel's torso away from his friend. Angel, with both hands, firmly managed to pull Jack's arms off himself. And the something strange happened.

White wings opened from the manically smiling boy, beating as he rose up into the air. The wings appeared mechanical, but coated in embroidered white satin that had previously just been pretty embroidery on his jacket.

Jack couldn't believe his eyes. The boy with the insidious eyes was flying. Hovering in the air above them, expression matching a vulture's, looking for a fresh kill.

Jack's eyes narrowed fiercely. There was evidently a lot more going on here than he'd first thought. Dang it.

He wasn't sure it could all be solved in one evening stand-off.

Angel flew slowly, dramatically backwards, and then gracefully landed a few feet away from his sworn opponents.

"So you're Angel, 'miright?" Jack asked, eyes narrowed. The name now appeared in awfully bad taste, if it had wrought the monstrosity that stood before them.

"Who else, hey?" Angel grinned widely back, the edges of his smile sharp and taut, like a blade's edge.

"Angel!" Frank's face was a pale white with cheeks slightly flushed, from being nearly sent to an early grave or anger, no one was the wiser.

"Let me guess, Didier? He remembers me, you know. Doesn't even want to leave. You'll have to persuade him. Along with me, of course."

"Nonsense! Didier hasn't seen you in three years!" Frank espoused.

"Ahhh, but he was fond of me before that, you know. Why don't you leave him with us? We could him a better life than you pathetic Lowers could."

'Mids.' Frank vaguely thought to correct, but doing that would indicate he cared about status.

And he didn't. Not when his high and mighty Upper parents had turned out to be hopeless at raising children. Not when Lowers in his school had regularly washed, ironed clothes and ready packed lunches, complete with have-a-good-day notes, when it took an astronomic effort for him to manage half of that for him and his siblings.

He would give up any status to have someone, parents, who'd stick around consistently in his life. Who could be bothered to give that kind of repeated love, selflessly. Not just hastily whispered, even if fond, words from his mother on late nights, and occasional nods and grunts from his stepdad. Forgetting himself, his brothers were young children who deserved more. Whose experience of family now would affect their perception of it for life.

No, Didier most definitely did not need to be raised by more Uppers. People who thought so highly of their time that it was unworthy to be spent with children.

His brother had already suffered too long from that privilege.

"Uppers! Uppers and Lowers, huh..." Frank fumed. "Our world was damned the day those divisions existed."

There was a short silence, during which Frank wondered at himself. He didn't usually get this worked up.

Angel had always known how to push his buttons.

"Well that was a shorter speech than I expected. You sure you're done?" Angel queried, head inclined, cheshire smile in place.

Frank glared back, then stealthily shared a sidelong look with Jack, who imperceptibly nodded.

It was time.

'This is good.' Angel mused, nearly cackling out loud in delight. His little cousin was giving into hatred. And that would weaken him enough to be able to end him. Easily.

Jack looked between the two, seeing new sides of them both he'd never seen. Angel actually looked genuinely happy. Frank looked furious.

Good. He was keeping Angel entertained.

Just like they'd planned.

With that thought, Jack began to slowly creep out of the hall. Towards the stairs. Little Pier- no, Didier, could only be upstairs-

"De Alba." Angel called out.

Jack felt like he'd been shot.

In the land where he was in disguise, he'd just been called by his real surname. The name of New Brynnland's most famed, infamous General. The name of his father.

His own name. The meagre identity he had adopted of Siegfried Evanson (deliberately made to rhyme with Syeda Johansson in his attempt to lighten things up), the cloth that had been shielding him, had been torn and cast away.

'Damn it!' he cursed, gritting his teeth, sweat forming on his temple as he began to wonder how much this boy really knew.

There couldn't be a lot he didn't, if he knew this much.

'But how?' he managed not to say out loud. In this game of chess, he couldn't let his opponent know they knew something he'd rather they didn't. No. They had to think they were powerless.

So he wanted to play a game with a De Alba, huh?

'Well guess what?' Jack smirked.  'De Albas never lose.'