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Housekeeper

Cibbie had spent hours in Michael Starfury's office, working on her P.R.A. after Markas had left for the night. She'd designed it to look like Hazard Wrathgaze, but had changed the dark stripes on its torso; six oak brown stripes, three on each side, that ended at points at its chest, stomach and the bottom front of its thighs, all merging to make a six point star on the back, above its tail. There had been a fair amount of fuss over its gender, Michael thought that she should go for a female so as to not feel embarrased around it, but she made the final decision when Rose had pointed out P.R.A.s don't care whether you're naked or not. And then there was the hassle of naming him, and they'd had to look up a name dictionary. They wound up programming his name as Terry, and practially had to hold Rose down when she insisted in giving him a last name. Michael had installed some technical programs, Cooking, writing... Servant things that would make him helpful. Cibbie said that she wanted him to be independant in his attitude and not robotic, so personality programs were installed too, which took almost an hour for them to select how he should act, setting his nationality to 'random'. Michael had also installed a program from a CD labled 'Project Skyfall' which contained fighting styles and capabilities for a sport called 'Flatlining', which involved a small top with special technology in it that projected an energy field the P.R.A.s could manipulate in a offensive or defensive way, literally making energy blasts out of thin air. Michael wouldn't say where the technology came from or what the energy was, however. They finished up by plugging in and activating the G.A.T.

"What's it stand for, anyway?" Cibbie had asked, curiously.

"General Anomaly Transmute. It's a small energy machine, like a power station, that will require periodic charging every so often. It utilises a small spacial anomaly, usually a sort of radioactive pulse that gives off a decent amount of energy. Every G.A.T. is different, especially on the field. When you first buy one it is overcharged. Overcharged G.A.T.s in the field give our assistants a free 'Overdrive', which is like throwing a nuclear bomb into a gunfight. Overdrives are different depending on your G.A.T; and do different things, but are almost always overwhelmingly powerful. After every recharge most G.A.T.s are overcharged and shouldn't be used in the field for an hour. Sometimes people overlook this and send their assistant into the field overcharged, any match when the Overdrive is used first thing due to the G.A.T. being overcharged is usually rematched." Cibbie nodded as the fur layer was pulled back over her P.R.A.'s chest, covering the battery. She pushed what little bulge there was left, locking the battery into place and activating him. She watched, curious, as his eyes opened slowly. She could see the programs and data flicking across his eyes before they took on their appropriate green colouring and he stood up before glancing around.

"G'day!" he said, an Australian accent sharply making itself known. "How're you doin'? I gotta ask, who's my master?"

"I-I am." Cibbie said, raising her hand nervously.

"G'day Shiela!" It replied, smiling happily. "What's yer name? I need to know for my registration!"

"C-Cibbie Heritance."

"Processing, gimmie a mo'!"

Michel chuckled. Saharah stepped forth and looked Terry right in the eye sternly.

"What's your name?"

"Eh? why'd you want to know?" he asked, tilting his head to one side and letting an ear droop.

"We need to know if the programming has taken hold correctly, and this is the easiest way. What is your name?"

"Usually one who gives gets." he said.

"Well, at least we know the personality installed." Michael said. "We'll try a direct aproach. Dictation code 4C32A mark X, respond!"

Saharah and Terry went rigid, standing bolt upright.

"Saharah Noodle, assistant to General Michael Starfury of the Hunter's Guild." She said plainly.

"Terry, assistant to Civillian Cibbie Heritance of the Earth Alliance." He said.

Terry looked puzzled and shook his head. "Terry?"

Cibbie giggled. "What're you programmed to do?"

"Anythin' you want, miss!" He replied. "'cept some things cause I'm too small or not meant to be used that way. Just so I know, what will you be using me for most miss?"

"Probrably company, although I'm sure you'll be doing some paperwork and maybe a Flatline match or two." She told him.

"So I'm for recreational use?" He asked, tilting his head at her.

"Pretty much, though you should know more than me about the world so I'll be asking questions often." She replied.

"... I'll just put "Private Assistant" in the reason for buying field then, won't be a mo'."

Michael picked him up.

"Woah, careful whatcher doin' there, bud!" Terry yelped.

He sat Terry on Cibbie's shoulder, making her wince lightly.

"We installed a medical dictionary to your memory banks, prove it's properly installed by assessing these stitches." He said, firmly.

Terry glanced down at the stitches on Cibbie's shoulder.

"Tight stitching in uniform Zig-zag pattern with Surgeon's Knot to tie up the end. Swelling around the wound suggests stitches have been torn twice. Size of stitches suggests that the injury is roughly an inch deep. Grazes and major bruising to surrounding area, including where I am sitting, suggests that 'er injury was caused by being thrown along badly sealed bitumen."

Michael picked Terry back up and looked into Cibbie's weeping eyes.

"Is he right?" He asked her.

"Yes, I was hit by a car and thrown roughly twelve hours ago. I've torn them twice, once trying to defend myself and the second time by accident when meeting an official." She said. She sniffed loudly and rubbed her eyes.

"Sorry, Cib, I didnt know you were bruised too. Then again I guess it was a bit of a longshot that you wouldn't be." Michael apologised. "Terry, is it safe to put Sealent Agent on her wounds?"

Terry looked her up and down.

"It is if you want her to recover quickly on the outside, but I'd suggest simply giving her Panadol and wrapping her up in bandages to avoid it getting infected. I'd also suggest avoid gettin' hit by any more cars if you know what's good for you!"

Michael looked puzzled. "'Panadol'?"

"Painkillers, although I'd suggest a higher dose in this case. I'd also suggest getting some rest for a day or so to give your muscles a chance to heal." Terry said, shaking his head.

Cibbie tilted her head. "But I don't feel any pain unless I move or touch one of the stitches. Why would I need rest if..?"

Terry lifted a finger. "You don't feel the pain NOW, but first thing when you wake up you're going to have a hard enough time standin'."

Cibbie picked him up and looked him over, Terry chuckled lightly at her cautious touch. "You don't need to be so soft, Miss Heritance, I'm sturdier than I look."

"Okay, Cibbie, we'd better get you to your apartment. Saharah, can you handle the teleporter for us?" Michael interrupted.

"I'll be on my own!" she protested.

"Nah you won't, Rose is staying in your office until I return and then we're going home."

Saharah grimaced. "Alright then, but hurry back, she's hyperactive today." She hopped onto Michael's jacket and climbed up to his shoulder.

They walked out and Saharah jumped back onto her desk. Michael, Cibbie and Terry stepped into the booth.

"Rose!" Michael called out. "If you've caused any trouble when I get back you'll get a butt full of my war boot!"

Rose cowered. The recollection of Michael's steel capped, studded and lightly barbed war boots and the sudden and immense pain they could inflict fresh in her mind. The booth door closed and the mechanism hummed loudly before they vanished.

They appeared with a flash in a large, brightly lit room. A counter on the longest wall standing before them with a huge rack of pidgeon-holes behind it. Large ferns stood in the corners of the room and an elevator on the wall to their left. A female Undergrounder -apparently Avian- stood behind the counter, a look of utter impatience on her face. She nodded to Michael, took one look at Cibbie and screamed, diving beneath the counter. Michael sighed loudly.

"Honestly, it's as if nobody bloody LISTENS to phone calls these days." He said, loudly. "I mean, I called this place and rented a room for a V.I.P. and the first thing the front desk lady does is take one look at you and cower."

"B-b-b-b-but that's a P-P-P-Polaris!" came the girl's voice.

"No, she's not Polaris, she's Archethal, and the last of the species too. Just because she has a few more interesting limbs than us doesn't mean anything!" Michael yelled back. "Now get up here and do your job, I promise she won't bite."

"Unless that's what you want." Cibbie chimed in.

The girl laughed, she seemed nervous as she slowly stood up. Cibbie and Michael walked over and stood infront of her. The girl almost seemed to get used to Cibbie, until Terry jumped out onto the counter yelling: "What's goin' on?! Are we inside yet or not?!" Which gave the girl the perfect opportunity to hit the panic button. Bulletproof glass rose between the pair and her as all the lights dimmed and an alarm beeped.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Michael yelled, throwing an arm up in annoyance. He pushed Cibbie behind him and unholseterd his pistol. They waited a nerve racking ten minutes before the alarm stopped. Michael walked towards the door and put his gun away. "Well, that was rather uneventfu-"

His sentence cut short as the door was thrown off its hinges. Cibbie ran towards him, the hidden blades in her gun extended and sliced the door in half before it hit Michael. What walked in could barely be seen through the dust. Cibbie could see a definite male shape, but it was covered in heavy grey armour. Its head was wrapped up, a large crested helmet covering what wasn't wrapped. After the dust cleared red flesh could be seen under the grey armour.

"Target located!" he said, coldly. "Beginning termination." He lunged for Cibbie, but Michael stood infront of her, arms extended. The assailent grabbed him by the throat before hesitating. "M-Michael Starfury?"

"That's right!" He wheezed back before being released.

"I'm sorry, sir but you need to move aside!"

"This girl is under my protection!" Michael yelled, watching a sizeable police force amass outside the hotel doors. "She's joining one of our special ops sectors and is not to be harmed!" He pulled Cibbie out next to him. "Under action C-27A-9.B of the code, I'm ordering a Silence; all personnell standing here are to never say anything about her existance until it becomes publically known. Do I make myself clear?!"

There was a general rouse of indifference before Michael pulled his gun again, a loud hum audible over the crowd. The mob of police outside all suddenly chorused 'Yes sir!'

"Cibbie, go sign in." Michael said to her.

"Bu-"

"Do as I say, dammit!" He bellowed at her, he turned his face to her. She could see through all the mock fury that he was exhausted and wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

Cibbie's eyes watered a little as she walked over to the counted and grabbed Terry, shoving him on her shoulder. "The General requested a room for me-" she said quietly to the girl behind the counter.

"Sorry, what?" the girl asked.

"Th-the general requested a room-" Cibbie said louder, undeniably audible to all present.

"What?" said the girl rudely. "The general requested a room? Why are YOU asking for it then?"

"I-I..." Cibbie stammered, taken aback. Her voice now terrified and small.

A fist suddenly smacked into the glass, cracking it. To her amazement it belonged to the original assailent.

"Stop fucking her around!" He yelled. "Give her the goddamed room already or the next punch goes through the glass!"

"General... Starfury... Requested a room..."

The girl looked at her desk for a second.

"Sorry, no records here." she said smugly.

The armoured man, obviously one with an extermely short temper, did something unexpected. He turned to Cibbie and said:

"Them blades on your gun, how sharp are they?"

Cibbie shrugged and put the blades against the glass, cutting through it like it wasn't there. She pulled back. "Sharp enough?" she said, scared.

"Right," he said. "Like she said, lass. They're sharp ENOUGH. Give us the key she was promised and we won't have to do something drastic."

The girl grabbed the phone on her desk and frantically pressed some numbers. they waited for whatever she had just done to take effect. There was another flash of light and Markas stood behind her.

"What the hell is going on here?! What happened to the glass, and why're all these cops here?!" He bellowed. "I was almost at the penthouse DOOR!"

"Sir, if you've not noticed yet, the girl at the counter is-"

"OH! Cibbie, you're staying in one of my hotels?" Markas said loudly.

"You KNOW this... thing?!" The girl asked, shocked.

"Of course I know her, I've been with her all day. Her name is Sybil 'Cibbie' Heritance, female heir to the Archethal throne. She turned up on my colony planet roughly twelve hours ago and I helped her get back on her feet."

Michael walked over after the last police officer had left. "Yeah, Markas, this girl won't let me rent a room for your royal guest. I think she's gotta screw loose or something."

The girl flustered as Markas pushed her aside. "But SIR!"

"But nothing! You've worked here for three years Rachael, I like to think of you as my best employee. I don't want to have to replace you so just do as I tell you. Get room key 789, the Red Room." The girl sighed her surrender and got the key, reluctantly handing it to Cibbie over the lowering wall of glass.

"I didn't expect this much ruckus when I booked the place." Michael said, lamely. "Sorry about the door, I'll send you the money to replace it. C'mon, Cibbie, I'll show you to your room." He grabbed her 'round the arm.

"I'll accompany you, sir." The helmeted male said. "I'll file a report in the morning."

They stepped into the elevator after the doors opened and went up. Markas slapped the girl over the head.

"Twit." He mused.

Michael, Cibbie and the male stepped out of the elevator and into a long corridor. During the elevator ride the male had introduced himself as Bane. He was a subject in the same experiment line as Rose, only he was from a project based on streamlining the mutations and focusing on strength to make a more formidable warrior. Sadly, in his opinion, the streamlining figure had made his face what was commonly referred to as 'adorable', which constantly threw off his more brute like appearance, so he wore a helmet and covered his face to hide it. The corridor was a boring linear path with blue and white carpeting; doors lined the walls at intervals with numbers starting at 700 on their left. The door number on their right ended at 799.

"Okay," Michael started. "The room is 789, so it should logically be only a few doors down."

Cibbie nodded weakly, smiling slightly as she slumped to the floor. Terry stood infront of her face, tilting his head curiously.

"She's ok, just sleeping." He stated. "She's had a busy day, and these injuries're a tax on her strength."

"Australian accent...?" Bane rhetorically mumbled to himself, amused at Terry's expense.

Michael sighed, picking Terry up. "Bane, could you please carry her? Gently, please, she's got some rather extensive injuries there, and I'd rather not have to get them sealed back up again."

With a grunt Bane picked her up. They wandered down to the door, a basic redwood door on a steel frame. Michael unlocked the room with a clunk and kicked the door open. Bane carried Cibbie in through a couple of rooms into the bedroom and put her on the bed. Michael sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes.

"I guess they don't call it the Red Room for nothin'." He said to no-one in particular.

With the exception of the white cornice and skirting board, the walls and roof were a vibrant red. Most of the furniture was of a different shade of red, simply outlined with white detailing. Although everything was immaculately clean, the effect was like walking into a room in which a rather messy murder had taken place and the staff had decided to simply redecorate over the top.

"Well, I guess it couldn't be helped, she needed a place to stay." Michael said, bluntly. "Terry, could you put some of this ointment on her wounds while she sleeps? She shouldn't feel it and her wounds'll be almost healed by morn'." He handed Terry a small tube of cream with 'Medical Sealant' printed down the outside.

"Ok, is there anything else you'd like me to do for her while she's sleeping, sir?" Terry replied, his accent shining through.

"Yeah, find out if there is any food in the fridge or cupboard. If there isn't, use this card to order some, it should appear by your door an hour after you place the order." Michael replied, handing a small pre-paid card to Terry. "Order her some new undergarments, too."

"Have a nice night." Bane said.

"You too. Seeyah!" Terry replied cheerfully.

And with that the two men walked out.

* * *

Cibbie awoke the next morning faintly aware of a slight smell. She rolled over, winced and sat up. She looked around the room and put her hand to her face. She could remember getting onto the elevator, and the near disaster that'd happened in the lobby, but not how she'd gotten into this... Scarlet room. Terry hopped up onto the bed and wandered over to her.

"G'day, miss!" He said cheerfully. "The housekeeper's come in with some fresh sheets to replace the ones we bloodied last night."

Cibbie spun around and looked at the bed below her, blood had seeped into the sheets from her wounds. It was then she noticed that her top -and her pants- were several feet away hanging on the back of a chair. She looked down to see she wasn't wearing even her makeshift clothes anymore either. She yelped and pulled the blanket over herself.

"T-Terry!" She said, indignantly.

"Don't be mad, miss. I had to wash your clothes to get the blood out of them, and I needed to put some Sealent agent on your wounds to help them heal." Terry replied. "I have also put your old clothes into a drawer, I thought you might want to keep them for sentimental value."

Cibbie blushed brighter than the sheet she was holding.

"Y-you saw me...?!"

"T' be honest miss, there's nothing that I'd do with a knowledge of how you look nude. If it's any consolation I ordered some undergarments for you to wear while your clothes dry." Terry motioned to a bag next to the bed. "I thought I'd get you something more girly than the strict colours you normally wear and the loincloth. While you change I'll be cooking some breakfast, please come to the kitchen in the next room when you're ready." He finished. Terry then jumped off the bed and padded into the next room.

Cibbie stood up and picked the bag up. Pink frills and lace ruffled inside. She grimaced. Pink was not exactly her favourite colour. She stood up gingerly and started pulling the bright and cheerful underclothes on before looking around the room. The red and white colouring was, if anything, almost an eyesore, but still managed to look like it matched. She finished dressing and tried to walk across the room before realising that her legs felt like they had been rolled up in about fifty layers of gauze each. She also had extreme trouble moving her arms, so she fell flat on her face onto the carpet with a loud grunt. Terry came running in at the thump.

"Miss, are you alright?"

"Just fine, Terry." She mumbled into the floor. "Just a little stiff."

"We expected you'd hurt in the morning, so a wheelchair was brought up for you." Terry informed her, running out of sight and wheeling it next to her.

Cibbie turned her head to be able to see the metallic frame of the wheelchair and pushed herself into it. It was comfortable, and one of the arms had a little joystick attatched to it.

"The wheelchair moves by you moving the joystick. Please make your way into the dining room, I've got breakfast on the table for you." Terry said.

It took her a moment to get the hang of using the wheelchair, but she eventually made her way into the next room. She maneuvered the chair to the food on the table and flinched.

"Miss?" Terry probed, noticing.

"I'm... Not hungry." She said. "There is food here and my stomach is empty but I can't eat."

"It's understandable, you've lost a fair amount of blood and you're diverting the blood you have to your injuries to recover faster, digestion is low on the list of priorities your body has in plan. Just remember to keep a nice supply of food with you for when you do become hungry or you're likely to bite people." Terry said, flatly. "Also, I've been informed that you are to wear your formal clothes today as Mr. Starfury is taking you someplace 'special'."

"'Special'?"

"Don't ask me, I wan't told. It's probrably to meet a dignitary or something."

Cibbie groaned and wheeled back into the bedroom, the housekeeper had replaced the sheets on the bed and was busy dealing with towels in the wardrobe. Cibbie silently slid into her casual wear.

"Hello, miss." He suddenly said to the room in general. "It's a little rude to not give greetings, but I'll pass it on account of you being almost nude when you rolled in."

"H-hello." She mumbled shyly before falling into her own thoughts.

They stayed in silence for a short while before the housekeeper broke the gap.

"Something on your mind, miss?"

"Actually, sir, I-"

"Name's King."

"And I'm Cibbie. I-I was wondering if I could get an opinion on my train of thought."

"Tell me your woes, I'll not tell a soul any of it."

She sat in silence for another minute before Terry padded in with a notepad. He handed it to King, who read it and handed it back.

"Alright, I know your backstory, now what's the problem?"

"I dunno, I've been aware for almost three days and nothing has changed. I'm shunned because of how I look and I'm the last of my species. I'm all alone..." Cibbie mumbled sadly.

King snorted.

"Look, kid; No one is alone. ou may be the last of your species but you're not alone." He stated. "The first guy you met, the owner of this hotel, he helped you out as best he could and befriended you, didn't he? You met General Starfury and his daughter and quickly befriended them, right? You've got a robot companion to keep you company. So you're not alone, not at all!"

Cibbie nodded her agreement.

"Here, you've got some good friends who'll help you out however they can and you're far down on your luck, but you're not alone so long as you remember that it's not about how smart you are or how you look, it's not what's in your head or in your skin, but what's in your heart." He finished, pointing to her chest. He flicked his fingers and a playing card flipped out. "Take this playing card and find the man with the Ace of this suit. He'll help you out so long as you show him this."

Cibbie smiled slightly and took the card, looking at it before sliding it into her sleeve. It was the twelve of Diamonds, but the diamonds on the card were pictured oddly, almost like they were real gems in the card.

"Those clothes won't suit your day today, miss. Mr. Markas said that he would like you to wear formal clothes, so I've brought you up some formal wear to go downstairs in. The tailor sent them here via mail because you left them behind, and there're quite a few dignitaries waiting to meet you, so wear this-" He pulled the formal dress out of a box, ruffs and laces slipped out.

"W-What the hell?! How do you suggest I get into this?!" she cried in an indignant tone, standing up.

"Your robotic servant can assist you into it." King suggested.

Terry shook his head.

"How do I get him to do that then?" Cibbie asked.

King fumbled around in the box for a minute, before handing Terry a smaller box. "You bribe him with this. He'll love it if I'm right."

Terry opened the box and put on a small hat. Tiny corks hung from the brim. Terry scowled. "So... Much... HATE..." He growled.

King shrugged. "Well it DOES suit your Auzzie accent." He closed the closet and walked to the door. "I'm done in here, have a nice day..."

"You too!" Cibbie said as the door closed behind him.

"...Your highness..." King finished after the door closed.

Terry and Cibbie spent the next ten minutes, ten infuriating minutes, trying to get Cibbie into her dress before realising that they had it on backwards and spending three more minutes getting it on properly. The dress, complete with traditional Archethal waistpads and shoulders, was a bright combination of purples and a cheery yellow, the colours accenting eachother in a highly detailed pattern. Cibbie examined herself in the mirror critically.

"I-I can't wear this! It's too big!" She cried.

"But it's the same size as your mother was, and you're the same dress size as her." Terry responded.

"But I look so silly wearing this thing!"

"I dunno," Terry joked "I think it suits you fine."

Cibbie reached down and pulled the brim of his hat over his face.

"Screw you too, miss."

The lobby of the hotel was packed. Mostly famous people, actors, musicians, and several aristocrats. The Earth's royal families had come as well. Champagne had been opened and was being circulated. The President and head of the Underground were there somewhere too, probrably together. As far as dignitaries went, they were supposed to be near enemies, but the reality was that they might as well skip the formalities and jump into bed together. Rose and Michael Starfury had invited the Crowns and Heads of States, but the rest seemed to simply invite themselves. Rose, long the social midget, had found President Washington and Hazard and was chatting quite comfortably when Hazard glanced in Michael's direction.

"Trust your father to find the only reporter in the whole place." He growled over the din of the crowd.

Rose sighed, tilting her head to one side. "Sorry. I told him no reporters, but they show up anyway... I'll distract him with a drink, okay?"

Hazard looked panicked. "That's Angela Red! You'd better be quick, she's liable to go off!"

Rose grabbed a pair of drinks from a passing waiter and rushed over, catching the entire conversation between her father and the reporter.

"Well, well," Angela Red chimed, sounding smug "if it isn't the most irresponsible father in the known galaxy."

"Well, well," Michael shot back "if it isn't the lovely miss Red. Lose your bone?"

"Very funny, I'm not here to be a reporter, I'm here to personally meet the latest big news." She snapped.

"Oh? Who's that then?" Michael asked, feigning ignorance.

"You should know, you brought her here."

Michael grimaced. "Hm, I must have a word with the police in this area, it seems they can't obey rules."

Red chuckled. "If you don't mind, I'm going to mingle with the crowd that doesnt make a living killing things." She turned to leave.

Michael grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "If that's the case, I'll be taking THIS." he said as he plucked a small black device off her front.

"H-hey! Get off!" she protested.

"You think i'd let you wander around here with a microcamera? This is the tenth occasion you've 'innocently' attended. It seems you can't teach old dogs new tricks, even after all this time." He crushed the device in his hand as Rose handed his drink over.

"Dad! I've got drinks!"

"Thanks, Rose. Angela was just going, weren't you?"

Angela pouted, but she wasn't defeated yet. "You think just because you're the leader pf the Hunter's Guild you can do whatever you want! Just because you have that armour on you think you're invincible!" she shouted, the room around her hushing to silence. "The bigger they are the harder they fall, and you're going to fall FAR!"

Rose suddenly grabbed Angela by her throat, lifting her off the ground.

"I didn't invite you here, and I'm sure as hell my father didn't invite you here, so why don't you just get out?"

"You don't scare me, girl! There's nothing you can do to me legally, so why don't you just let me down and be on your way back to the desserts?"

Rose dropped Angela, but not before Hazard had taken up a stand behind the smug canine. Red spun on the spot and walked right into him.

"Rose can't do anything" he said, audibly, "but I can."

Angela seemed to collapse in on herself.

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall, Miss Red." Hazard continued. "You're lucky I don't dig you a pit."

"...Sir?"

Hazard leant his face down to hers, his eyes glowed silver. "Get. Out."

"Or?"

Hazard clicked his knuckles loudly. "I'll show you how I started the Mutenagenix wars."

Angela Red, probrably the most feared reporter in high society did something that even her crew would find surprising of her. She slapped Hazard, the man who had started a ten year long war by personally ripping a man limb from limb. That was before she felt the gun rest against the back of her head. She froze up; people commonly do when they have a gun against their skull. She swallowed hard and slowly twisted her head to see behind her. She expected Michael to have his personal gun at arms length, but instead found someone more... Efficient. Finally, she sighed defeat and walked out the doors, right as the elevator opened. Rose beamed, Hazard and Washington gasped, and Michael spat champagne across the room like a sprinkler system.

"Lulubelle?" He mumbled.

Cibbie stepped off the elevator, holding the wall to keep herself steady as the eyes of at least a hundred people followed her. President Washington and Hazard moved through the crowd, ushing people along with them.

"Miss Sybil Heritance," Washington started, offering her hand. "On behalf of the Human race, welcome to Earth." Cibbie nervously shook her hand.

"Miss Sybil Heritance," Hazard continued, offering his hand. "On behalf of the Underground faction, we welcome you to our setor." Cibbie shook his hand also.

Cibbie shook their hands and a young man in red, white and black formal clothes stepped forth.

"Miss Sybil Heritance," he said, warmly, "I am King Verence III of England, Earth. I greet you in good faith on behalf of the nations of Earth." He bowed deeply, she followed suit.

Several other royals stepped forth and shook her hand, welcoming her on behalf of their peoples. It wasn't until Washington stepped forth again that something important was said.

"Miss Sybil 'Cibbie' Heritance, I welcome you back to the Earth Alliance Contingent and must hereby Crown you Queen of the Archethal. Despite your people being erradicated, the throne is still yours to take." Cibbie nodded meekly. Her face showed her reluctance for the huge crowd, and she shuffled to take a step back.

Michael stepped forth, raising his hand. "Your Highness, Cibbie Heritance. I, Michael Starfury of the Hunter's Guild, welcome you to the Guild as a recruit." She shook his hand. She tried to pull back, but he held tight. "Woah, there, kid. Don't go dying just yet, the best news is yet to come. As Michael of the rather extended Starfury clan, welcome you to my family as an adopted daughter, if you'll accept. Though you'll be in my family by legality alone, you will always find my door open." He pulled her into an embrace. Cibbie's eyes started to water and she hugged back, careful not to hurt him with her gun. She mumbled a yes into his ear and Michael eventually let her go, the lack of support making her slump to the ground, but she was caught in mid fall by a male human.

"As your commanding officer, I am placing you under the capable hands of Major Roy Jay, the mechanical who just caught you."

She looked up at the face of the man who had just stopped her from hitting the floor. He was average height, wearing armour that looked incredibly heavy and had three hilted swords slung on his back. Each had a different handle. His bright green hair was very long, draping down his back to his waist in a ponytail. His ears were large recievers that were white halfway up and then red to the tip. But his eyes were the most curious feature of him; they were green, like his hair, but she could see what looked like a heads-up display flickering in his eyes. He nodded to her before slowly lifting her to her feet. She pushed him away, the playing card in her sleeve dropping onto the floor without her noticing; and she got back onto the elevator, closing the doors and returning to her floor. Everyone but Jay looked crestfallen.

"Damn, I guess she's still shy." Michael mumbled as the room began to empty. "Did you see the reaction I got when I welcomed her to my family though? Like I'd warmed her through!"

"Maybe she is not ready for this sort of reception yet." Hazard replied. "And I'm sure your father will have things to say when you take her to meet your parents."

Jay bent down and picked up the card, looking it over like he'd never seen anything like it before. Michael looked puzzled.

"Something wrong, Roy?" Miachael asked, glancing at the card and pausing for a minute. "A-ah." he stammered before coming up with a suitable deterrent. "A twelve of Diamonds? That's odd, usually playing cards go up to ten, do they not?"

Jay smiled and put his mouth next to Michael's ear. "King's been here. It's likely that Starbrooks are here too. Find them and send them to the first onsen on the left. I'm going to go after the girl."

Michael nodded as Jay got onto the second elevator and rode it up to Cibbie's floor.

Jay followed the tear drops on the carpeted floor to room 789. He hesitated for a moment before slowly opening the door. He could hear sobbing in the far rooms; so he stepped in, closed the door silently and breathlessly walked to where Cibbie was curled up in a corner, her face away from him. Quick as a flash he threw the twelve card in her direction, it imbedded itself in the drywall slightly, making her jump.

"Sybil Heritance." Jay said to her back. "You are now my pupil, and as such will do as I say in class."

She nodded.

"Good. Now, I believe that King has told you to find someone?" Jay probed, crossing his arms.

No response.

Jay sighed and reached into a pocket, pulling out an Ace before embedding it on the other side of Cibbie's head.

"Twelve, you have been told to find Ace, correct?" He demanded.

She nodded, pulling the cards out of the wall as she stood up, the fur on her face matted down with tears.

"First I shall explain the card's meaning." Jay said, matter-of-factly "The cards symbolise our membership in the Secret Order called the Dozen. Other secret societies, such as the Illuminati and the Freemasons are but children with dirty secrets; for centuries they have observed the church or scientific world, we do not share such a role. We go by the number on our cards, I'm Ace. As you've no doubt figured out there are at least twelve of us, but in actual fact there are fifteen, Twelve Numbers and three Royals. The other cards shall know of you soon enough, but will not make themselves known if you ask them. Our customary greeting is the throw, embedding our cards in objects near other members."

Cibbie nodded, slowly, wiping her face. "Who is King, anyway?"

Jay looked cryptic. "I cannot say. Nor will the other Dozen. You shall find out eventually, hopefully. The other Royals are Queen and Jack, but Jack fled us. He is the reason we delved into secrecy; associating ourselves with him could be catastrophic for us individually, and so we keep a low profile. We think we know where he went, but are unsure who he is. Only King knows for sure, and he wants us to find out for ourselves." He walked to the window and stared out to the rising sun. "It's almost maddening. We've been close to finding out his name, but are blocked at every turn by one war or another. There was a time when we were a more public group, working to better the world and protect the innocent; now we have to be careful who we talk with and show ourselves to."

Cibbie sighed. "I'm sorry. My turning up so suddenly must put quite a damper on things."

"You've no idea how much of a boon it is, actually. Now we have Twelve back, after so suddenly losing some of our best we have you dropped back into our lap." Jay replied, smiling to her.

"Back? I just got here!"

Jay shook his head. "Your father was Twelve. He and King were great friends. It's possibly the reason your race was attacked. Jack was worried that your father knew who he was and would have exposed him."

Cibbie looked saddened.

"But enough of this, I'd like you to go to the first onsen on the left downstairs and relax, you're to do nothing too stressful for the next few days while you recover."

Terry wandered in from the kitchen. "You've got some swimming gear by your bed, Miss."

"Did you guys organise this too?" Cibbie asked.

"No, no." Jay said, quickly. "The Onsen was an on the spot idea. Your little assistant here bought the bathers on his own."

Cibbie wandered into the bedroom to get changed as Jay inspected the card. A new Twelve, eh? King doesn't miss anything... A few minutes later Cibbie came wandering back out with a towel around her waist. Jay handed her back her card.

"The onsen is on the ground floor, go out the back doors of the elevator and to the first left. They're unisex baths, try not to stare at people you may see nude."

Cibbie nodded and followed Jay out, locking the door behind her. They went their seperate ways, Jay waving her goodbye as the elevator doors closed. The lift ground to a halt at the bottom floor and she stepped off, following the path that Jay had instructed. She nudged the double doors enclosing the Onsen open and stepped out into the bath area, meandered over to a secluded corner and folded her towel onto a rock before sliding into the warm waters. She hadn't expected the water to be so comfortable, and she sighed heavily as she relaxed in her spot. She never noticed when a couple walked in and stood on the far side of the pool. As the female got into the pool Cibbie opened her eyes slightly.The female appeared feline, but her ears were odd, more suited to picking up even the faintest of sounds, and she was grey furred, only her hair, her clothes and her eyes any indication that Cibbie hadn't gone colourblind. Her hair was a deep crimson colour, she wore bright pink bathers which almost shone out from her otherwise bland colour, and there was something about her eyes... They were unfocused, and seemed to lack pupils. The Male, however, was something she'd never seen before. Probrably another alien species, there were dozens in the foyer earlier. His fur was a greenish blue, and spiked upwards at the back of his head in a crest. She then noticed a playing card in the male's bright blue board shorts. Quick as a flash she flung her card at him, but he caught it easily, inspecting it.

"Twelve, I presume?"

Cibbie nodded as his card wedged by her ear. She glanced at it.

"Four, yes?"

He nodded, another playing card narrowly missed her head as it wedged into the rocks. She pulled it from the stone.

"Ten?"

"That's me." The female said, cheerfully.

The couple sat on either side of Cibbie and she just got comfortable with them there when another playing card wedged into the rocks infront of them. A single image adorned its front.

King.