DAY ONE: any Vesper-related drabble or oneshot.
DAY TWO: any Vesper-related drabble or oneshot - Must be set sometime in the past: before the clue hunt.
DAY THREE: any Vesper-related drabble or oneshot - Must break the Fourth Wall* or include it somehow.
DAY FOUR: a drabble of any kind.
DAY FIVE: any Vesper-related drabble or oneshot.
DAY SIX: any Guardian-related drabble or oneshot.
DAY SEVEN: any kind of drabble or oneshot.

Format: Oneshot

Word Count: 1,209

Character(s): Isabel Kabra

The Doomsday Device - 1

Remember

The body dropped to the floor with a thud that made little Belle's blood run cold. Hand stuffed in her mouth to prevent herself from crying out, she almost retched as her mother's face appeared before her, visible through the crack of the ajar cupboard door.

The usual warm-coca colouring of her mother's face was tinted with a deathly pallor and her eyes were glassy, staring and blank as amber. For the first time in Issie's life she felt truly and utterly frightened. Her mother, much like her father, had been indestructible. She had seen people tip-toe around them, as if they were a ticking bomb and Issie could only guess at the amount of power they must hold.

"Search the room," a cutting, rough voice said quietly. Belle knew a powerful person when she heard one, and shrank back in her cupboard. She knew that voice…

"The girl can't be far from here, she never leaves her mother's side," Belle blinked back frightened tears, her cupboard door swung open and a cry of triumph sounded. Belle prepared herself for a fight, gripping the hilt of her concealed dart-gun, but before she could do any more than locate the base, a huge hand had grabbed her by the back of her nightdress. Belle was held aloft like a kitten by the scruff of its neck, swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

Belle let out a squeak, before choking off her next frightened cry in shame. She didn't want to feel frightened. Fear was for cowards, not Lucian's.

The rough voice sounded in a chuckle. "Pass her to me," for a brief moment, as Belle was released by her nightdress, she pondered on making a quick escape. She quickly shoved away that idea; that would be a last resort; better to see what her enemies, for that was what they had to be, wanted.

"Aw, she's shivering," crooned another, softer voice; the voice of a woman. Belle let no emotion appear on her face, but inside she was in turmoil. She knew that voice too! "I think you've scared her, Louis." At that, Belle let her indignation surface in the form of a weak wriggle.

Once she had been safely deposited into the hands of who she assumed to be the powerful man who had spoken first. Her theory was confirmed a second later when he spoke. "What's your name, dearie?" Belle thought for a moment, he knew who she was, he had to. She answered honestly.

"Isabel Hollingsworth," she said in a clear voice that she used for answering the telephone and the door. Through the dim light she could just make out a smile. It wasn't a friendly smile, rather a leer that made Belle want to back away.

"Good," he said. "Good,"

"Just as well it's her," the woman's voice came again. "With all the trouble we've spent catching up, it would've been a real shame for it all to have been for nothing." Her accent was American and very familiar. Belle cast her gaze towards her mother's body, lying at an unnatural angle on the hearth, dying flames singeing her black locks. She sensed that her mother's death had not been anticipated.

"You're right," a third voice lisped. Belle wanted to shout, she recognized all these voices! – But where from? "But we all knew it might have to come to this,"

"That doesn't make me feel any better," snapped the accented voice. "She is –was my friend."

"Annette was a friend to all of us," the powerful man spoke again, "but she made a foolish decision in turning on the Vespers. She knew what the price would be,"

Belle let out a gasp, she shoved her hands hard against her captor's chest, but her was as immovable as rock. She knew what the Vesper's were, not officially of course, her mother was most careful as to what was discussed around her daughter; and she knew that they had killed her father. And now her mother too. Oblivious to her struggles, she was drawn closer into, what she supposed should've been, a comforting embrace.

"Don't worry," the woman with the American accent reassured her. "You remember me, don't you?" A face loomed over Belle.

"Aunt Marie!" Belle's fear turned to relief and then to anger. Aunt Marie had been her mother's best friend.

"Belle, it's been a while," Belle didn't reply. "I suppose you want an explanation?" Belle gave a swift nod, and everyone in the room was reminded forcefully of her mother. "Well, I suppose it's a long story and we have little time."

"Ja, there shall be time for answers in the coming days," a rich, male voice intoned. "All she needs to know is the truth. Leonetta, if you will?" The sounds of footsteps echoed through the house.

"She's gone to start the engine," Marie explained.

"Of the car?" asked Belle, a scoffing noise sounded.

"Ze car?" an incredulous voice called from somewhere in the hall.

"She's only six, give her a break," Marie called back, then to Issie: "No, not the car, the jet. We need to make a quick getaway." Belle nodded dazedly. "Belle, listen to me," Marie spoke urgently and quietly. "We didn't want to kill your mother or your father, but they had done something rather bad to the people we work for."

"Zey 'ad completely dis- disre- oh, what iz zee word? Zey ignored zeir orderz." Called the voice from the hall again, "Zey 'ad to be eliminated." Marie shot an ugly glare towards the door and nodded her head once in the direction of Louis, who rapidly left the scene.

"Belle, we're here for you," Marie's wide eyes were pleading and clear. "Not to hurt you, but to look after you," Belle felt the honeyed words seep over her, of course Marie wouldn't hurt her; how could she? Not with such a truthful, honest voice surely?

"Look… after… me?" Belle stumbled. Abruptly she was pulled from her uncomfortable capture and seized into a hug. Rose scent engulfed her and rich, mineral-ly shampoo filled her nostrils.

"That's right, sweetie," Marie's minty-fresh breath washed over her. "You're safe now, and haven't I got a lot to tell you?" Belle nodded. Her gaze grazed her mother's limp form; she remembered her father's broken body. Then she blinked and buried her face in Marie's sweet smelling hair. She was safe now.

"The Vespers! They're here!" Edward shouted, rushing from the bay window. "Annette, take Belle and run!" Belle dropped her toys at once, stretching her arms to be picked up. She was used to running suddenly now. They had been running since Tuesday.

"Damn, my brother," Edward paused, "Pardon my French?" he offered lamely before pulling a Sig Sauer from underneath his jacket. Annette kissed her husband briefly, grabbed her daughter and rushed towards the escape from the other exit in the kitchenette.

Gun shots could be heard for miles around and the next day, Edward Vesper-Hollingsworth was confirmed as dead. Annette cried, hugging her daughter to her shaking chest. She knew that if Edward had been killed, she would be next. Slowly, she fastened her most prized possession to her daughter's slim wrist.

"Remember me, Belle." She said, "Remember me."