A World Apart: Original Souls Part 11

Chapter 12:.

All Sales Final!

April 1, 1002 ~ Daylight Inside La Ropa, Criston felt a strange sixth sense coming over. He didn't know if it were the power of this new hand or just plain old intuition. But he definitely felt like he was being watched.

Far off in a high-rise building from out of town, a man smothered by his all black jumpsuit said into a microphone; "We have visual. Do not make contact. I repeat, do not make contact with the suspect. Remain vigilant. Standby for further direction."

Criston walked tactfully along aisle four with his carrier overflowing. He pushed the basket carrier by a long range handle that connected to the rest of the apparatus. The motion was directed by the turn of the handle as well the turnstile-like wheels on the bottom. It was similar to the carts at the food market, but much more nimble and supposedly chic, considering La Ropa's predominantly a clothing store. Just a slight tap to the end of the handle, and the carrier would go careening into the next aisle.

He rounded aisle four with it slipping from his grasp. He caught the handle just as it banged into the carrier of some friendly looking women. He smiled politely, turning into aisle five. And up ahead, he saw a man glaring at him from behind the service desk. He was wiping the countertop, but staring at Criston as his hand moved around into in looping three-sixties. For a second, he didn't even seem to realize that Cris was staring back. -But when he did, his eyes dropped so fast that an alarm went off in Cris' mind. He knew they had him cornered.

He decided to play it off. He figured the least they suspected he knew of their intentions, the more shopping he could wrap up before whatever was coming - came along. Hopefully, his bankcard wasn't as frozen as the icy glares employees and patrons alike were throwing at him. Sena Hendrix had given him money to spend, but he preferred to use his own cash. He figured, Corinth is my son after all. I should foot the bill. Little did he suspect that it was the bill from One Stop Drop that helped them tracked down his stomping grounds. Some detective he is.

He had picked up several styles of clothes for his son. He knew Cory would be p.i.s.sed that he didn't let him pick out his own school gear, but he figured he'd get over it. Anyway, the navy-blue and military-gray uniform he'd be wearing to every cla.s.s would make the summer and winter clothes his dad bought him look like fashion's latest and greatest. Solely by comparison, that is, because Cris wasn't a well styled man or a good shopper. And he honestly didn't know what Corinth's personal style looked like. He knew his son used to like to skateboard, so he took it from there and ran with it. Everything else would simply be his best guess.

With a thunderous roar, the gates outside the shop windows unexpectedly began shutting. One by one, these protective barriers poured down over the outsides of the store windows, locking Criston, and indeed all the other people, inside La Ropa.

"Hey, what's going on now?" one innocent shopper called out from the front of the store. Without notice, the sinister looking guy behind the counter reached below, bringing back up with him an absorption gun. He took the b.u.t.t of it, and slammed it into the customer's forehead. Blood spattered from his head like a gushing hot-spring. The man was down, and so too was Criston.

He instinctively ducked behind an ad for ladies underwear when he heard screams coming from the front door area. People were trying to get out, but were turned away by several figures dressed all in black. They pushed folks back as they forced their way through the double doors. A gaggle of goons burst inside with an oddly sullen ferocity. All disorganized with their dark dead eyes. They clogged the entryway as one man dared to pa.s.s them all.

"Move it, you fiends!" came an all too familiar voice. He shouted at his troops. "I'm coming through here." He straightened out the men in line that didn't look quite right. His mop like hair jostled around as he moved emphatically from side to side, attempting to step up a line of defense for the store's front doors.

Cris stayed crouched behind the underwear ad, counting his lucky stars he hadn't been spotted yet. He contemplated taking a look around. Just to survey his options and the conquerors of this expansive shop. He turned around and cautiously poked his head out from the side of the ad. He had a clear view to the storefront, down the main aisle. He saw everything that he'd antic.i.p.ated. They were Squadron members. It was Geary.

The stomp of his steel-toed boots sent a chill down Criston's spine. The tap against the hard ceramic tile floors echoed throughout the now silent clothing store, full of customers. He traversed the smaller front aisles aimlessly. To no avail were his attempts to flush out what he came for.

"Where are you, Gambit? We know your here!" He scared the life out of a mother and her daughter as he slowly pa.s.sed them in his heated rage. "Have you seen this man?" He held up a picture of Criston from Squadron records. Cris was decked out in full uniform, with all his commendations and other now useless awards pinned to the navy-blue attire he donned in the old photo. The lady-and her daughter shook their heads... the answer was no.

Geary kept asking people as he pa.s.sed them. Growing more impatient with every, no answer, he received. "This man-is in this store! That I'm certain of. And yet you pigs pay so little attention to your surroundings that not one of you has seen him." He was standing so close to his prize. Pointing at all the defenseless customers with a condemning look in his large blue eyes.

His words actually calmed Cris. He heard Geary speak with that sort of frustration before. He knew he'd take his current plan no further. He'd get more extreme, but at least he wouldn't walk the ten to twelve extra feet it would take him to spot Cris. Geary was standing in the middle of the main aisle, nearly four yards from where Cris hid himself.

"So ... not only are you a dirty cop, Gambit! But you're also a coward!" he was shouting while circling in a three-hundred-sixty degree spin. He hoped his booming voice would reach Cris at whichever end of the store he was concealed within. "You're going to let innocent people get hurt, just so you can evade the law."

A frightened lady, clinging to shelves in the perfume section, looked up at her captor and spat her words down his throat. "You're the only dirty cop I see. I thought Squadron was supposed to be better than the locals. I guess corruption isn't picky."

Geary squinted dramatically, while he rigidly turned his face toward the woman. "You see this stupid chick, crouching in front of me, Cris?" Geary barely acknowledged the woman, though he was speaking of her. He was more focused on wherever Cris could possibly be. A few of the other men, who weren't incapacitated by the El Muerte Vivo serum, were searching and miraculously coming up empty "Her blood's on your hands now, buddy!"

The girl had a look of sheer terror on her face as people behind her backed away toward an emergency exit. Geary wasn't paying attention to them. He only wanted the girl for now.

A man pressed hard against the bar-handle to the emergency door. But before he could push out to open it, a Squadron member standing in an adjacent aisle whispered.

"Don't-you-dare." Holding his hand-held absorption gun up, at face level. His black eyes made them all whimper as their escape plans were easily foiled.

Geary watched as the brave, but stupid, crouching lady trembled before him. He released his llave from his clenched fist. It immediately began rotating clockwise at his chest. He let out a visceral, and for Criston, gut wrenching, scream. "Fiat Lux!" The static red beam of light erupted from the rotation, approaching the defenseless girl at light speed.

But before Geary even wielded the spell, Criston threw a six-pack of women's underwear at his spinning llave. Unfortunately, his touch was a few degrees off. Instead of knocking the spinning key out of midair, which wasn't possible anyhow, it intercepted the light wave. The pack of undies immediately exploded when the two disproportionate forces collided. The collision sent ciders of fire whirling in crisscross directions throughout La Ropa. Nearly the entire store broke out in a heat wave of blazing lady undergarments.

The girl, being so close, got caught up in the blast. Her long ruffled skirt lit up like a bonfire. But she was smart enough to lay down flat and roll it out. She extinguished the fire and got up running. The rest of the store wasn't as lucky as her skirt. Everything was catching fire as the remnant of the panties collided with other plastics and clothing shelved down now flaming rows. The spreading Squadron members rea.s.sembled at the front door, where there were fewer blazes. This gave the former store patrons the opportunity to slip out through the emergency exit. And what an emergency it was. The entire store would soon be engulfed in flames, and all the windows were covered by grated gates.

Fortunately, everyone got out safe. Except Criston and the unconscious patron. Criston was conveniently trapped by the blaze ahead of him. He couldn't make a run for the front door, or simply slip out the side door with the others. Also, he was concerned about that unconscious fellow who took that hit to the head. Is he okay? Or was it already too late?

"Now, we're willing to put out this fire, Cris!" Geary yelled from the front. "We came here for you alive, not dead! All you need do is surrender." The ceiling tiles around the initial fiery outbreak started to cave. They came crashing down to the ground, but barely registered to Criston. Though Geary noticed promptly. "Now! Surrender now!" he pressed.

Cris didn't even consider it an option. He knew he'd be getting out of here alive and free. But what of the guy at the front of the store? He was the one in danger. Cris knew he couldn't just leave him. Then he'd be just as ruthless as Geary and Sebastian. He didn't like that thought.

He laid flat on the ground and started making his way to the main aisle. After he turned the corner, around what used to be the women's section, he saw that the path down the main aisle was blocked by debris. The perfume stand was knocked on its side and the ceiling had caved right there. He looked around for another clear path. There was none. And he could hear the fire roaring and cracking louder with every pa.s.sing second. He knew it was only a small matter of time before other parts of the ceiling started falling. Perhaps the one over his head? Then he'd be just as much a goner as the unconscious patron.

He knew what he had to do, but was reluctant to try it for the first time under these tense circ.u.mstances. But he had to. So, he employed his last resort. He hadn't used magik since he casted the Erratum spell. It was risky, considering the new way through which he would wield his power. No longer with his llave, but with the hand of fate.

He willed it to work. The flesh melted away as if the fire had caught it. But instead of leaving a void, it revealed a purplish-blue transparent gla.s.s, shaped as a hand. A sparkling shine, of which he couldn't deny the beauty. It glowed in the midst of the building smoke. Cris coughed. He knew that was the sign that his window for success was closing rapidly.

He placed the hand on the ground, and called out. "Porta!" Immediately, a portal of the same coloring as his glowing hand opened up in the floor. He pressed through his circ.u.mspect feelings. He insisted through his weary thoughts that another portal bring the man's body, lying on the other side of the fire barrier, over to him.

Sena. Hendrix told him the night before that it was his will that determined what fate would now do. He didn't know if his will would be strong enough. But before he could finish doubting himself, the unconscious man washed up next to him, like a drown victim. The man was literally wet too, but Cris figured it was sweat rather than plain old water coating the man's skin and clothes. In fact, they could use a lot of water in La Ropa right this minute. He couldn't believe that no sprinkler system had kicked in. The things business owners do to cut corners and save money.

Cris felt confident now. The man was safe with him. The fire collapsed some more of the tile ceilings in the front, and that's when Geary started having his crew put it out. Cris could hear the chime of sirens calling from outside the store. This business would be salvaged, the fire wouldn't spread down Crix ave.

He figured that was his cue to exit. In style, of course. He easily opened up a new portal right beside himself. The portal was underneath the unconscious patron, he dropped through to infinity. Cris hoped it was more like the school, as opposed to real infinite s.p.a.ce. He looked back before he almost dropped himself in the swirling vortex at his boot-clad feet. He was thinking about all the hard work and hours he put into shopping today. He couldn't just leave his bags behind, because he never wanted to shop for anything ever again. Not after all this.

He stood up tall in the middle of the blazing fire. Geary and his crew had let it rage for too long. Their efforts with fire extinguishers weren't cutting it. The real firefighting crew would have to take over to put this one out. Cris figured he had enough time, so he went to retrieve his purchases from One Stop Drop, and the carrier full of clothes he collected while in La Ropa. He found everything, nearly intact. Save a little ash, his items were in good shape.

The real fire crew entered the front of the store. Just having cut down the gate with some oversized scissors. "Is anyone back there? If you are, stay down, and away from the open flames. Just stay down!"

Cris ignored the firefighters warning and walked back over to his spiral portal. He dropped his One Stop Drop items in first. Then he turned to the carrier. He knew he hadn't actually paid for these things, but justified it with saving that girl and the unconscious man, even though he's the reason the store is being grill-charred by flames in the first place. He threw that thought out of his mind. He figured, if the owner couldn't even pay for the mandatory sprinkler system, then the store deserved to burn. He scooped up the clothes and tossed them in. After all, a couple of employees did take him hostage. Stealing a few kid's outfits would cost less than the lawsuit the owner had coming.

After he wrapped up his thoughts about becoming a thief, he stepped, without even the slightest trepidation, into the spiraling purplish-blue portal, and to another place. Hopefully that place would be the Aurora Boreal school. Or else he and that unconscious patron were replacing trouble, with HUGE trouble!

Chapter 13:.

Gla.s.s Handed Ghost Man

April 1, 1002 ~ Midday Three students were listening to a very loud radio in their dorm in Concordia Nova. One of the three buildings that are connected to Olympia. Olympia being the main building where all the cla.s.ses took place, and where the staff and Corinth all have their dorms on the twelfth and top floor.

They were dancing and jumping around like kids. Well, they were kids. Two girls and a boy. The boy decided to jump up on his bed, to the far left of the dorm, playing air guitar. His favorite song was playing and nothing could stop him from shining as bright as his favorite rock stars did on stage, night after night. The two girls watched and rocked out alongside him from the floor- when suddenly, a man fell on top of the boy's bed from a dark purple glowing light on the ceiling.

The girls screamed as the boy toppled over, falling to the ground. All three screaming as the unconscious fellow lay there, unwittingly scaring the trio of nine-year-olds half to h.e.l.l. Other children heard them screaming in the other dorms, and came running out into the halls.

The portal stayed open on the ceiling. Likewise, the children's mouths stretched wide and hung low. Not one of them stopped screaming at the top of their lungs. Not even to catch a quick breath of air. More miscellaneous items fell from nowhere onto this boy's bed. Some school supplies. Paperback notebooks, a thin touch screen tablet, pencils, and the whole nine. Then lots of clothes came tumbling down after that. A colorful pair of sneakers rolled off the bed and onto the floor. Nearly touching one of the girls' feet. She freaked! Jumping up from the floor running around the room screaming so loud now, that the unconscious man started to come to.

Yellow eyes shaking awake to the cracking sound of a little girl's cries. He lifted his head, while lying underneath a mound of clothing and school supplies. Just then, another unlucky man dropped in, using the first guy's body as a cushion. The weight of the second man falling onto the formerly unconscious fellow, sent him right back into a daze.

Criston, the man, and all of Corinth's school stuff made it safely to the school, but not so soundly. The kids in the room couldn't stop yelling for help. Some of the older kids outside had already ran for a teacher, by taking the Oeste sky-bridge over from the top floor of Concordia Nova to Olympia building.

"Hey...hey...hey-y-y!" he shouted so loudly that it overpowered their cries for help. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I was just . . . just." He thought about his word selection carefully. He didn't want to alarm the three terrorized faces staring back him with wide eyes anymore than he already had. "I was just, dropping in," he said with finality. "And now I'm going to be leaving." He leaped off the bed and went for the door, but it opened from the other end first.

"What is the meaning of all this screaming I'm hearing about?" came the blistering storm of words out the mouth of a completely white-eyed ministrant. He burst into the dorm with the sense that he'd encountered silly child's play like this all day long. Blinded by his own intolerance for youth, he then saw Criston recoil and jump back onto the bed. The frustrated ministrant looked the suspicious man in the eye when he said, "sir, you picked the wrong dormitory to mess with," calm and concise was his tone.

His llave already rotating. He whispered softly, "Canem." Downward from the very center of the ceiling came dull lights pulling into a cyclone. The deep orange lights reached their apex, coalescing into hologram dogs. Four of them, that all simultaneously jumped at Criston, who was crouched on all fours atop the boy's bed, once they fully formed.

The children in the halls, and the three on the floor all gasped wildly. The man on the bed suddenly produced a glowing hand from amidst the stockpiled items, and not to mention the unconscious man beneath. He flagrantly waved the hand in front of the dogs, and they recoiled from their agitation now gone into remiss. Sen. Bernard was in awe as his Canem spell was neutralized with ease by this mysterious intruder. The shining hand began to glow so bright that everyone covered their eyes. The students in the dorm and halls alike. Even Sen. Bernard's all white eyes could not withstand the brilliance of the blaring Hand of Fate. The mysterious intruder then slammed his hand down on the bed, and everything disappeared in an instant! Including the bed! The only thing that remained, were the colorful sneakers that had fallen off during the initial chaos.

Everyone looked around stunned and confused. Where had he and the bed gone? Sen. Bernard bent over and whispered to his orange hounds in Maledictus. "Ir, Encontrar O Nosso Intruso." Go, find our intruder... were his instruction to the hounds. They bounded through the door's archway, jumping through students bodies, like air pa.s.sing through fan blades. The airy holographic hounds just pa.s.sed through invisibly. They came out on the other end, never having truly interacted with the students at all. Still, the children screamed from the fear inspired by the vicious looking pack of wild orange dogs.

"Don't be afraid students," Bernard said flatly to them, while waving in the air the hand that held his llave. "Those hounds were sent to find our ghost man. They are your protectors, not your attackers." Some still shuddered as the hounds pa.s.sed swiftly, but a large scale panic was averted. "Now, go back to your respective dorms peacefully. And make well sure you do it-silentlyyy!" he dragged out the last word with a specific disdain for even the slightest bit of chatter. Looking around at individual faces to strike fear in their already frightened hearts. He turned back into the room and said, "you three, with me!" Pointing down at them, his face was all business.

His completely white eyes and hair made him stand out. At least in Hyperborean, where there weren't many Blancans. In comparison to the amount of people from other Worlds, Blancans were very few in numbers in the far North. In Blanco, Bernard blended in perfectly with his peers. A very serious people, and painfully intelligent. They all had very white features. All of them. And not just their eyes, but also the hair on their heads and bodies. It made them look older than they were, but also more distinguished. Most Blancans had tan skin. Unlike the other races, who come in all skin tones, their genealogy is largely focused down to specific traits, making them look alike in overall appearance. Though they could differ drastically in facial features. Most family members in Blanco don't even resemble one another if you get a good look at them side by side. Especially when it comes to the cut of their noses, jaw lines, head shapes, cheekbones etc.

Bernard was younger than he looked. Not yet forty years, but an approaching birthday would soon put him in that age group. Most despise the Blancans looks. Though Bernard had a certain handsome physics about him that didn't turn every woman from the other Worlds off. It was his att.i.tude that did that. It sent them running away screaming curses every time. Sharp and concise features, in conjunction with a piercing and malevolent tongue. He was quite a pill to swallow for most. His only known admirer was Sena. Hendrix. They shared a rather uniquely cynical outlook on the Worlds at large.

Because of his fearsome nature, the three returning fourth-graders were reluctant to follow him. But he was the disciplinary for the twelfth floor of Concordia Nova dormitory. They'd either go with him straight away, or be punished, and still end up going with him anyway. They decided punishment wasn't an option, so they all got up and left the room with the ministrant.

Down the halls of the dorm building they went. Bernard was leading them back to his office. He intended on making an official report of what happened in their dorm. The fire torches against the wall blazed as normal. Though there was ample lighting from several windows, they never turned those torches off. Covered by lamp shades with different figures of animals and other mythical characters, they painted amusing shadows against the walls at nightfall. They were real fire torches, but nonetheless controlled by electricity. Just like an oven, using electricity to spark the fire of the pilot, these torches could be turned off and on with the flip of a switch.

The power of a lone flame carried great historical significance in Hyperborean. A place named for the fact that it's so far north of all the other Worlds. The blaze of the flame against the stone walls made the stones shimmer. There was silver pixie dust, mined from the Silver River, or Rio Plato according to Sena. Hendrix, mixed into the concrete. The gleam of the dust persevered the stones, and warded off dark magik. Aurora Boreal had many lines of defense besides the force field surrounding its outer perimeter.

From Concordia Nova, Sen. Bernard led the three children over the Oeste skywalk. The mini-sky-bridge glided across and over the grounds below, connecting only to the twelfth floor of Olympia. Bernard's quarters and office were over there. He'd just taken the automated skywalk, or rather run, from Olympia over Oeste when the other students came looking for someone to help their fellow screaming mates.

They silently crossed into Olympia now, and the scenery changed drastically. Olympia was the oldest building on school grounds, yet it looked the most up to date. That's because every single stone, metal, and even wooden board was constructed wholly from silver dust. That meant they'd never waiver in esthetics or l.u.s.ter. The integrity of the structure was forever locked in. The other buildings must be manually repaired, because the Rio Plato is running low on pixie dust. Conservation methods had to be employed for the silver pixies to survive, and continue to replenish the magnificent river.

Bernard's office was at the edge of the Southeast hall of Olympia. Not so many doors down from Corinth's room at the end of the South hall, overlooking the Olympus Grounds. The four of them continued on around the Main hall of Olympia. This circular hall connected all the eight directional halls. They were pa.s.sing the storage room that Hendrix converted into a dorm for her grandson when they heard a loud, nearly ground shaking thud.

Bernard stopped and looked around, backward and forward. Then focused in on Corinth's dorm door. There was nothing in the circular Main hall with him, except the three children he was escorting to his office. They were hopelessly clinging to one another. "Did any of you hear that, as I did?" He looked down at them with absolute authority. They all simultaneously shook their heads to agree. He didn't know what to make of it, so he walked past Corinth's door. But as he moved closer to the next door, he was overwhelmed by a strange tingling feeling. He sensed some powerful magik emanating from the door he'd just walked away from. Which, of course, was Corinth's. He saw nothing and heard nothing else, but that door number was now stuck in his mind. #23.

Only moments ago, Corinth, Emmy & Emma, and Anvard were looking outside the one window in Corinth's dorm room. They spied as best they could on Sena. Hendrix as she argued in the gra.s.s fields with Walker. They'd been at it for quite some time.

After Hendrix sent them away, they all signed up for affiliates that looked the most interesting to them. These extracurricular programs were additions to their normal cla.s.s loads.

Anvard for: Levanta.r.s.e, Societies Corinth for: Deaves, Megazine, Spheres Emmy for: Deaves, Megazine, Republics Emma for: Explorers, Megazine All of them were really excited for their Affiliates. They figured they'd be a fun break from ordinary school work. Once the school year really started to get tough.

Sena. Hendrix and Walker had finally given each other a rest. But they argued long after Corinth and the others walked away. Sena. Hendrix left at first to find out why the committee had approved Walker's Deaves pet.i.tion. Then she came back to the Olympus Grounds and argued some more with the head Librarian. All in all, it had been about four hours since they were sent away by the Grand Ministrant.

Now Corinth had a full-fledged deck of Deaves, and was about to begin learning the rules of the battle and trading card game. But before he could dive into that, he had to figure out how to explain to his three new friends, why his dad just dropped from the ceiling... into the middle of his dorm room.

Emma was-released by Sen. Bernard, not before getting a week of detention and cleaning detail, of course. And even though she saw a great deal of strange things when she wandered into Bernard's quarters and stole that map this morning, she was still startled by Corinth's even stranger father. "What...the heck...just...happened," with a flat monotone she looked down at Criston with shock and agitation all rolled into one feisty little package.

Corinth anch.o.r.ed to his father's side. "Are you okay?" He tried his best to lift his dad to his feet. But Cris was a big man. Six-foot-two and muscular. Corinth stumbled, but Anvard came to the rescue. But instead of grabbing Cris, who had just face planted when he dropped from the ceiling. And not onto the bed he brought with him. No. He hit the hard surfaced floor of Cory's small dorm. Still, Anvard helped Corinth only, leaving the boy's father to fumble his limbs again.

"I gotcha!" he said, as he lifted Corinth to safety and let his dad fall a second time since he'd unexpectedly entered the room.

"Well, thanks a lot, young fellow," Cris said while getting back up, one contracted knee at a time. He used Anvard's nearby shoulder to lean against once he fully erected his body. "Nice to know you have my back." He playfully winked at Andy, but no smile came from the young gentle giant.

"Who are you?" Anvard said, like he was the man of the house.

"That's my dad." Corinth slightly lifted his arm to point at him.

Criston brightly smiled. Somehow, his dark tan skin face showed red marks, while his eyes were rolling in the back of his head. Cris tried to make a joke of it, going with the odd feeling in his gut. He attempted a jig to break the uncomfortable tension in the room. It didn't work. The kids just thought it made him look even older and less cool than he already did. Corinth just covered his face, and smirked beneath the cloak of his hand. A blind willingness to look stupid was one of his favorite things about his father.

Cris started to get some of his wits back as he stumbled to attention. "Okay, okay. I get it. I'm not cool, because I'm older than you. That's fine, just don't come knocking on my door when you need someone to get you into a R-rated movie," Cris laughed loudly, but not even Corinth joined in this time around. But funny enough, Emma did join in.

She poked Corinth in the side and said under her breath. "Your dad's cute." Strange, she didn't mention the word -funny, even though she was steadily laughing at his ill-fated joke.

He shot her a look of pure disgust then said, "are you kidding me, he's like thirty or something."

"Oh, grow up! Your dad's a hot fudge sundaesupreme. It's not the end of the world, ya know."

"You're twelve!" he shouted as the others turned and looked at the two of them. They stood dead center in the room, adjacent to Corinth's unmade twin bed.

They were both stunned for a second. Corinth looked down at the two-tone floor, embarra.s.sed, just before Emma whispered, "and a half."

Oliveto walked over to Criston and took a sniff. He circled him, then took in another sniff. Cris looked over to his son, and he threw his hands up. Expressing that he hadn't a clue to what the mid-size puppy was up to. The mangy animal circled quite a few more times before finally jumping up on his hind legs, reaching for Cris' upper body. He loved dogs with a pa.s.sion, so he bent down on both knees to pet Oliveto. He got his fill of warm hearted licks for getting so close to the animal. He loved it.

This gesture from Corinth's pup made Anvard rethink his att.i.tude toward Cris. Andy wasn't an animal lover, no he was not. The Fielder family, like most Lirians, didn't view animals as pets. Not because of animals rights or something mildly n.o.ble like that, but simply because they didn't want to clean up after or cater to any other beings besides themselves. This mentality was simply pa.s.sed on generation through generation. Everyone seemed to develop their own reasoning for why they couldn't get along with domestic animals today in Lirio. Anvard's reason was his fear. He respected animals for their intuition, but feared what lurked behind their little non-smiling -faces. He always told himself that if an animal comes along that could smile... that would be his first pet. Though afraid of Oliveto, because he didn't know what the pooch was thinking from minute to minute, he still liked him. And he thought; if Oliveto trusted Corinth's dad, then Corinth's dad must be trust worthy.

He walked over to Sen. Gambit, extending his hand. "I'm sorry about the way I just behaved. I should have known better to disrespect my elder. Please, accept my apologizes."

Cris looked at Andy as he seemingly bowed before him. He wasn't used to teenagers with such poise and humility. "Well, you're a bit too formal for my liking, kid, but you definitely won me over earlier with that Corinth grab. He's always worth saving before me anyway." Cris looked over to Cory and winked as he grabbed Anvard's hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulled him in for a great big hug. It made Andy smile monstrously. First, because he wasn't expecting it. Second, because even though he always gave people handshakes, he was more of a hugger himself. Cris pulled him out from the embrace and noticed his huge grin. "Now that's more like it," he said as he hugged Andy again.

Emmy too donned a bright expression as Criston introduced himself to her. But none could match Emma. She played herself to be quite the little queen. Something Cris noticed, but couldn't begin to try to care about. No love lost though. Emma figured she'd land her hits next round. A crush like this couldn't be defeated so easily.

They all talked amongst themselves for a bit. Corinth questioned why his father hadn't gotten him any cool sneakers to wear out. Cris looked around, throwing things across the room, but couldn't find the skater sneaks he'd picked up for his boy. While he was shifting the contents of the extra bed now in Corinth's already small room, they all heard m.u.f.fled screams.

"Is everybody else hearing what I'm hearing?" Emmy asked the room.