Hello everyone, I realize that I have started three stories that have yet to be finished but this time I will actually finish this one because I'm going to do it all in one sitting. I'm really busy, but you probably new that, I'm busy because I have been working on an actual novel with my friend Mercy, with help from Abby, (Kuuanvang.) I would explain it but it's a bit of a long story, so until it is completed- if it ever becomes completed- you'll have to deal with my minute fan fictions.

"They have been treated exactly alike; both were brought up by hand; they have been under the same nurse and governess from their birth, and they are very fond of each other. Their increasing dissimilarity must be ascribed to a natural difference of mind and character, as there has been nothing in their treatment to account for it."

(Source unknown)

Maria made herself comfortable on the couch, it's leather upholstery squeaked with every movement she made, and to most the fact that such a thing would draw attention to one self would be a an unpleasant thing, but to her it was vaguely noticed. The man on the couch across from her kept his eye on her from the moment she had opened her door to them until now, still unaware of the fact that she wasn't planning on telling her anything. Maria brushed dust from her flowery dress, stitched by her own mother, the last thing she did before she died. From early on she had made the observation that they were government officials, looking for the children. She sighed to her own mind, she must remember that they are not children any more, young adults of the sort. Both having just turned sixteen last September, the corner of her lips turned up into a warm smile thinking of them. The men looked at each other wearingly, contemplating insanity as the old women's flaw, but whether the case or not, the National Defense wanted those children, and the old women sitting across from them was the answer, she was there nanny, and there closest ali.

"Mrs. Butch," one of the men began. He was indeed the leader, his low, grungy voice and inhumane appearance didn't intimidate Maria like he was intending.

"Please, call me Maria." Maria's voice was sweet, like honeys suckle or caramel, drowned out by an old English accent.

"Maria," he corrected. "We wanted to ask you a few questions about the children you care for; we know they are very special to our country."

"They are very special, but not for the reason's you think." She replied, her brow furrowed in annoyance at the men.

"Do you know where they might be?" He asked, taking off his black shades to reveal a scared face, a long crinkly line ran from the corner of his left eye to his shoulder. Maria looked around the room at the men; they were so naïve and not knowing. They hadn't they faintest clue what those children were, only that to them they were objects of convenience. She took in a deep breath and clicked her tongue.

"The North Pole." She taunted, stifling her laugh with a smirk. The men eyes gleamed with anger, the man with the scar forcefully put his shades back on and looked around the room in frustration.

"Arrest her!" He ordered.