Lessings Street was like your typical, ordinary, 41st Century German street. You wouldn't find a hooker, who would inhabit one of the big-time cities that had always had a pretty wild history, and that went double for cow or horse-drawn wagons. The unsightly sight of a muralists' work on the side of a building wouldn't be seen either. If one wanted to see the cow or horse-drawn wagons, that had bales of hay, or bushels of apples, or even big, burlap bags that contained either oats or that year's harvest of potatoes, they'd go to Pennsylvania, a state that was located on the eastern half of the North American continent, that was way across the Atlantic; and, if one wanted to see a muralists' work on the side of a building, they'd go to a city known as Richmond, which was located in the state of Virginia, which was another of the eastern-lying states of the North American continent.
His place of work was in an old building that had lasted the test of time; the street that it was on had also lasted time, and the many wars, plagues, and natural disasters that had taken place over the years. Like any other street here, there were parked cars and motorcycles on either side of it and, between each of the parked cars, was a pink-flowering, Cherry Blossom tree. The slight breeze, that started up after one o'clock, had made some of the leaves on the trees fall; the street and some of its parked vehicles had some of the trees' leaves and flowers on them. The rays of the mid-evening sunshine were seeping between the shadows of the closely built buildings and the branches of the trees; it gave the street a peaceful, romantic feeling.
"Whoever's last to leave the building please remember to not only drop the front window drapes but to also lock the front and back doors." one of his female co-workers yelled as she made her way towards the front door of the building that he, she, and thirty other people worked in.
"That'll be me," he thought as he leaned back in his office chair. He rubbed the fingers of his lightly tanned hand over his eyes then went back to what he was doing, which was looking through the available housing that his online search had pulled up on his computer screen.
As he went back to work, he thought more of the street that his workplace was on. The street that the one-story, yellow-brick building, that housed the offices of the Maxas Real Estate company, was on was located in Baden-Baden, a spa town that was in the German state of Baden-Württemberg, that was in southwestern Germany. Except for the fallen leaves and flowers of the Cherry Blossom trees, the street was clean. It was just as clean as the rest of the streets that were in the area; it was so clean that one would probably consider eating a meal off it. There was not a shred of trash on it, whether of the hooker kind or of the casually thrown paper or cigarette butt, and it was sparklingly beautiful. Even in the fading light of that July 30th day, the street shown; the sidewalk that was on either side of the street had no cracks or holes in it and there was not a single hint of potholes throughout the dark gray surface of the road.
The people of Germany were a rather proud bunch; they took care of their streets, which was why Lessing Street, and the other streets in the area where his workplace was, was so clean. One who was smoking a cigarette would make damn sure that, after the tobacco was used up, the remains would be stowed away on their person until a trash can was either found or reached. If a baby dropped a bottle, or a cookie, it would be swiftly collected and if someone dropped a piece of paper or a plastic cup, or threw something down after having a tantrum, it was swiftly picked up afterwards.
Lessing Street was a pretty active street at the moment; for most, it was time to head home. People were either on their way to their cars or mopeds or they were walking along with bags held in hands that were either young, middle-aged, or old. The offices of Maxas would normally be closed up at 8:45 p.m. UTC; on any other day, he would of already shut down shop in his office. This was no normal day for him. He had felt the abnormality of the day after his alarm aroused him at six that morning and he had continued to feel its abnormality all through the early morning and afternoon working hours. The abnormal feeling had started to make sense after he received a phone call from a client who was looking for some housing that was big enough for six persons to comfortably live in.
What was he doing on this fine, mid-evening of July 30, 4100? Why, he was doing one of them age-old things that had kept him in Germany: he was participating in what he believed was his destiny.
"Thirty-four years old, very blond and very blue-eyed, that's me." he thought while looking through the information on his screen.
His name was Arnold Heiberg; he was five foot, nine and a half inches tall and he was a pureblood German. The Heiberg's, while being pure German now, hadn't always been German; they had started out as being German long before the American continents were discovered and they had remained German for most of the America's early-known existence until Leopold Heiberg decided to move himself and his new wife, Anneliese Kahler, to the North American state of New York in 1674. The Heiberg family had sort of gone American afterwards; a lot of their blooded stock had married and bred with the Americans to introduce American blood into the line. By the time the monsters began their invasion of California, and by the time the planet was nearly conquered by one very mean and nasty monster, the Heiberg's were 99.99% American. Just before the planet's doom occurred, a heroine had acted; the monster conqueror's daughter had taken it upon herself to save the planet and keep it safe. While doing so, his ancestors had asked her if she could use one of her ground-flipping moves to move them to Germany. She had graciously done so.
The move was fine and dandy at first; the then-American Heiberg's had liked Germany and Europe just fine. After a hundred or so years, the continent of North America had started making its calls. Most of his family had moved back except for a small unit of two men and three women; they hadn't been able to afford the move so they stayed in Germany for the rest of their lives. Through the years, his family had met with tough times; plagues and natural disasters had claimed many—the American branch of the Heiberg's had nearly been wiped out while the freshly returned German blood in the ones who stayed in Germany were hit even harder. Of the thirty Heiberg's that were alive during the last plague that struck the planet, only four survived to continue the line into the future. He happened to be the descendant of one of them four lucky persons.
While his childhood and early teen years were fragmented memories to him he remembered his late-teenage years relatively well; like so many others, he went to college after graduating high school. He had gotten a diplom—the German form of a diploma—in computer science and then in Arts in Political Science and Government, which had mostly collected dust after he walked the aisle. For some reason, them diploms hadn't clicked with him; while he appreciated his parents for sending him to college, he had just not had an interest in getting a job in either of them fields. The job of working in real estate had held quite a lot of interest in him so he went for it. He had been showing homes and looking homes up and mostly sitting behind a desk since the decision of working in that field was made.
His former wife, who he had one kid with, had wanted to leave Germany for some other place in the world; he had sadly hurt her heart by saying that he wanted to stay where he was. That destiny thing that had him hook, line, and sinker had said that he was needed to be here, which was why he couldn't leave. His wife had left him, had taken the kid, then had filed for divorce. She was now married to another man and had two other kids; he hadn't seen his child by her in a long time now. He had lost two other women because of his need to stay in Germany; he had seen two other kids be born then be taken away from him and he had seen his family shake their heads time and again at him. He just couldn't leave. He felt his destiny was here, in good, ol' Germany, and he had a feeling that his destiny was about to take place.
"How's the search going?" the woman, who was sitting on the other side of his desk, asked.
"Going slowly, ma'am. I'm looking for a good apartment for you and your sons to move into." he replied. "So far, what I've found isn't good enough. Too small for you and your sons or too run-down. We want you in a good, safe, healthy apartment; not something that's about ready to be torn down."
No real estate person wanted to give a client a run-down building to live in. Normally, people would come in saying that they wanted to find a good home to live in; on certain occasions, a client who was interested in finding a fixer-upper would come in—he had sold a few of them types of homes in his career. For the most part, he had mostly been asked to find good, healthy, and safe homes for his clients to look at and buy. The woman that was on the other side of his desk was the exact same one who called him earlier; after asking her a few questions, he asked if she could come in to finalize what she was looking for. She said that she would. His client had said that she'd be in at around eight o'clock; she was an hour late in coming in, and he was annoyed over having to postpone his trip home... at first.
She had come in wearing a Hijab, or shawl, around her head; since most of her facial features were obscured, he had taken her as being a Muslim and he had addressed her as such—he had come to be right embarrassed after her identity was exposed to him! His client, after entering the building, had asked specifically for him; he was retrieved for her right after she started asking for him. While leading her to his office, he introduced himself—she refused to do so on her end until after she was in his office and the door was shut. After taking a seat before his desk, she asked if he could do a search for a simple, low-cost apartment, which he started doing right away. He stopped doing his search after she explained her situation... and after the black shawl was removed from around her head.
"Miss. Ir... shouldn't you be..." he said after she took the shawl from around her head. Due to his shock being so great, he wasn't able to finish a sentence. "I should of known..."
"I apologize for the secrecy, I don't really know who I can trust here yet." his client returned.
No introduction was needed on her part; a child, who had just started school, would know who she was and the same went for a full-grown adult. The woman that was seated on the other side of his desk was none other than his planet's heroine—the ever lovely, and the one and only, Angel-Friggin'-Irene was seated directly across from him! It had taken him all of five minutes to get himself together; in that time, he took her in.
She was a very beautiful woman! He was surprised that she was allowed to leave a house without a bodyguard and he was also surprised that no one had called dibs on her. The red glow that was in his small office wasn't coming from the taillights of a car or from the sun's reflection from a red car or sign. It was coming from his client's hair, which wasn't only long but also a fiery red color. The eyes that were set in his client's heart-shaped face were a rather beautiful, emerald-green color; the pupils that were in their centers had a single, golden-yellow ring around them. With her being five foot, seven inches tall, she was a tall woman; her honey-colored skin was as smooth and as blemish free as could be.
His client had a nice, trim, petite figure that was very feminine in appearance. Any and all muscle that she had on her was masked perfectly. Her breasts were pretty big—they seemed to be in the 40C-cup range; even though they were big, they didn't make her appearance look off one, single, bit. The sleeves on her green shirt were faded while the knees of her pair of dark green jeans were well-worn; the white tennis shoes, that were on her feet, were grass-stained. It looked like their soles were going out on the sides.
After taking in her features, and her wardrobe, he found himself as being drawn to the only piece of jewelry that she was wearing. The ring, that was on her third, left finger, was nicely shaped, proudly worn, and, from all appearance, looked rather expensive. The ring's band consisted of three rows of diamonds; the top row looked to be white or vanilla while the other two looked to be of the chocolate variety that the ladies nowadays were going crazy over. There was an oval-shaped aquamarine in the center of the ring's band that had a right nice shine to it. The ring had a right nice sparkle to it; he had only to look at it to know that the woman took very good care of it. The ring that his client was wearing on her ring finger wasn't something that one would buy from any old jewelry store for €50 or even €100; he bet that it had a price-tag of over €500 on it when it was purchased. The ring looked very at-home on the woman's finger—it almost looked like it had a little post on it that said it belonged on that finger.
Soon after taking a seat in the dark brown leather chair, that was in front of his wooden office desk, that had all the necessary office equipment on it—a computer; a red, blue, and green striped container that had pens and pencils in it; a pencil sharpener; a stapler; and an Onyx mesh triple tray organizer—, she told him what she was looking for and then asked him to look for it. After regaining his composure, he asked her a few questions on what she was looking for. The questions that he asked were simple ones like, how many rooms, a one-level or two, front yard or no, and, of course, the major question of the price-range that she was looking for.
"Really hoping to find a three-bedroom apartment; it has to have a front and a back yard to it," she responded. "I only have $12,288 on me; I'd rather for the apartment to have an upstairs and a downstairs and I'd also like for it to be in a good, crime-free neighborhood."
"Fence or no fence?" he asked.
"No, my sons and I have no pets."
"Four sons, right?"
"Five,"
After his questions were answered, he started looking for the residence that she was searching for; the search, on his end, stopped soon after it was started. The reason for this was simple enough: the woman had said that she had five sons... that would mean that she was looking for a small apartment to move a large family of six into which, to him, was absurd. Five boys, all crammed in a three-bedroom apartment, was just asking for trouble; since he knew who he was talking to, and since he knew how important she was and how much the people of Earth appreciated her, he stopped the search for the apartment. He had asked the woman to excuse him for a minute; the word on his needing to check the printer—to see if it was running as it should—was given just before he got up from his chair. Since she didn't know his intentions, she said okay.
The printer, that was in the corner office three doors from his own, was running fine; he knew he didn't need to check to see if it was running or if it had ink or enough paper in it—what he said about checking the printer was nothing more than an excuse to leave his office. What he actually did was go straight to the office that was directly across from his own—he had made a phone call to Stefan Leinart, who was the current president of Germany.
"From the administration of the main building of the Chancellery, we say hello; how may I be of service to you?" a lady asked after his call was answered.
"I need to speak with Mr. Stefan Leinart at once please." he said. "It is very important that I speak with him."
"Sir, I am afraid that, unless you have an appointment, I cannot allow that to happen. Mr. Leinart is a very busy man." the woman replied.
"I suggest that you pass it along that I need to speak with him. I have a very important client that I think he should meet." he returned.
"I'm afraid that I cannot do that, sir." the lady said. He explained his situation quickly before snapping his trap shut; while the lady listened to him, she said nothing in return. After keeping him waiting for ten seconds, she said for him to hold on.
It took a "short" while before his request was granted; due to his nerves, he was barely able to speak when his country's president picked up the phone. He told the man that he had the heroine herself, Angel Irene, the daughter of the horrid monster that had somehow gotten into the shields that had kept him out of the cities and towns of North and South America for over two thousand years, in his office and that she was looking for a three-bedroom apartment to move her large family into.
All while talking to President Leinart, he was keeping an eye on his office; if his client decided to leave, he would of seen her. Luckily, for him, she had waited for his return. Mr. Leinart had asked for him to keep her in his office as long as he could until he got there, and he had also said for him to look up some houses for the woman; with the conversation between he and Stefan Leinart being done nearly twenty minutes ago, he was starting to wonder if the man was coming at all.
He had done as the man had said for him to; after hanging the phone up, then returning to his office, he exited the search that he was doing then started a new one for a house that had more than three rooms in it. So far, his new search was proving to be quite daunting. Nothing of what he was finding was good enough for his client—either the houses were too small, or they needed certain, substantial repairs to them, or the yards that they were on were small or shabbily cared for. He was also looking at the neighborhoods that the houses were in; he agreed with his client on the residence's location firmly—he did not want her and her family to move into a bad area where one would have to constantly watch his or her back. His client had five sons to care for and look after; he was sure that she didn't want to be worried to a frazzle about some thievin' punks or gangsters jumping on and then hurting her or her kids for whatever monetary possessions they had on their persons or about who could possibly try to break into their new home.
"Four sons, right?"
"Five,"
The fact that she had five sons now instead of four had been another shock for him because, if he recalled correctly, she had only had four when she was living in the small American town of Green River, that was in the state of Wyoming, that was in western North America.
According to the newspapers that he had read, Ms. Irene and all of her sons had gone missing in November of last year; they were only noted as being missing after their apartment exploded. Ms. Irene's whereabouts weren't known for all of four months—when they were discovered, she was in a small town that was located in Colorado, which was another of North America's western states. A hailstorm had happened with the news outlets after her whereabouts were discovered; many stories on her were made and he had either watched or read each and every one of them. In one of the newspaper articles, a quote from her was included, which simply said that she and her five sons were fine—after reading this article, he read it again. In another of the newspaper articles that he had read, it was said that she and four of her five sons were taken captive by one of the aliens that showed up near Green River, Wyoming—after getting a confirmation on how many sons she had, and with what she might have gone through during the months that she wasn't on Earth, he thought that one of her sons was an infant.
None of the outlets had said a thing on what happened between her disappearance and reappearance; either she kept the details to herself or, if she told, the ones who wrote the articles or did the news hadn't included them in their stories. If an infant was born, he feared that she was raped—it had happened with her once before... the brute of a fader of hers, who was currently taking over North and South America, had done it to her more than once in the past. The best thing was that she was back and, what was even greater, she looked in great shape. If she had recently given birth then she held the record for the world's fastest post-pregnancy weight loss—she did not look like she had given birth recently! Her body didn't bear any signs of a recent pregnancy and she was showing no signs of fatigue from having to deal with the demands of a newborn. If she had recently given birth, he figured that her newborn was around a month to a month and a half in age.
"Where are your boys, ma'am?" he asked. He figured that getting her to talk was a good way to keep her in his office; women loved talking about their kids, so he latched onto that subject.
"Brenners Park, probably sitting under a tree or around a campfire." his client replied. "They're all good kids... not a one has done anything bad in their lives."
"Where have you and they been staying these past six months?" he asked.
"In caves," she replied. "We started living in medium-sized caves in the parks of North America—near civilization. We've been living in medium-sized caves in Africa and Egypt for about two months now. The boys enjoyed it, and they enjoyed the wildlife and the chance to hunt and fish."
"They good huntsmen and fishermen?" he asked.
"Mhmmm," his client nodded her head. "Taught them myself. They're very good hunters and fishermen. Been keeping me busy in cooking the meat that they bring in and the fish that they catch. They take care of the pelts and any other trophies that they wish to keep."
"I bet they make you a very proud mumma. Bet they have a lot of trophies from them hunts." he said.
"Of course, I'm very proud of each of my boys. They get along great; they do fight but only in a normal way and, yes, they do have a lot of hunting trophies." his client smiled a proud smile. "I can't see myself without them; even sitting here, I wish to be with them."
"The mummy instinct is strong in you, I like that." he said back.
He increased the speed of his search after she voiced her desire in wanting to be with her sons—he took her saying that as a sign that she wanted to leave his office. Since he didn't want that to happen until Mr. Leinart showed up, he started looking up homes faster and he started thinking up further questions that'd keep her here.
The faster-paced search that he was doing was bringing up some results; some that he didn't much like while others looked to be appropriate for his client. Here was a four-bedroom house that was near a park and that was on a good lot of land; after finding it, he sent its information to the printer. Here was a house that had five bedrooms, two full baths, and a nice front and back yard to it; it was near a town. Like with the other house, he sent its information to the printer. Here was another four-bedroom house that had a bath and a half and a nice backyard to it. Due to the small size of the house's front yard, he debated on it for a few seconds before pressing the print button.
As he continued his search, he looked at his wrist-watch. Twenty minutes had turned into half an hour—Stefan Leinart had said that he would be here soon... He began to wonder how soon was soon.
While he didn't know Stefan Leinart personally, he did know that the man was rather nice; he had won the presidency in a landslide by promising to keep everything fair and just and by promising to be a fair and just leader. So far, nearly six months after he won his campaign, he was holding them promises up. He had gotten several parks cleaned and repaired, several national landmarks were repaired on his behalf, and he had personally paid out from his own pocket the cost of repairing what was needed to be repaired in several airports. He had also seen to the increase in pay for minorities. Workplace benefits had also been increased thanks to the man. Several silly, not-needed taxes had also been dropped thanks to him.
Stefan Leinart was a smart, kind man, and he was married to an equally smart and kind woman who had birthed him three children—two daughters and a son. They lived modestly and they didn't flaunt their cash, even though they were loaded with it.
"So, why did you choose to change your and your sons' living conditions?" he asked.
"It's just time for a change—a more modern, civilized life is needed for us now." his client replied. "I don't want my boys to get "wild'—they do need to be around people, and modern civilization."
"Cave living easy?"
"Can be right tedious. Have to boil water to make sure its healthy to drink and cook with; have to make sure that the food's cooked well or else, someone will get very sick with a parasite; and you have to watch out for them predators." his client replied. "We've had a few instances were wild cats have come into the caves that we've lived in—while we were in Africa, one of my sons was grabbed and then nearly yanked clear out of our cave by a lion."
"Was he okay afterwards?" he asked. He stopped his search long enough to take in what she was about to say.
"Yes—other than being scared half to death, and having a few bite marks to his leg and foot, he was fine. The poor thing refused to sleep at night for a week after it happened."
"Did he get any infections or anything on the areas that were bitten by the lion?"
"No, I used one of my healing abilities to take care of the wounds. He did have a slight limp for a few days—he walks fine now."
"When did that happen?"
"Two weeks ago."
As he resumed his search for a good home for his client—the one that he looked at before being told about the lion-encounter had a pool in its backyard; due to the residence being over a hundred years old, he bypassed it. usually, there were a lot of issues involved with houses of that type—he thought about the attack that his client had just told him about.
He pictured it in his mind; the vicious, man-eating lion wandered into the cave that his client and her sons were using as a residence. The animal walked stealthily along, taking special care to not make a sound as it took in the area's sights and smells before, finally, lunging for one of the sleeping beings that weren't aware of its presence. In his imagination, he saw the lion grabbing the leg of the boy that his client had just mentioned; the boy was fast in screaming, and in thrashing about, after feeling himself as being grabbed—the lion, unfazed by its prey's antics, dragged him from his sleeping space and family. The animal was only able to drag the boy a few feet before his mother sprang into action; a fight, where his client had used one of her powers—the one where she could change into some other form came to his mind effortlessly—to stave the predator off, had happened before the lion dropped the boy then turned tail and ran. The last scene that he saw in his imagination was of his client ushering her scared and injured son back into the cave for medical treatment and comforting.
"How's that search coming along?" his client asked him again. He detected the notes of
impatience and nervousness in her voice.
"Very good, ma'am. I've found several apartments for you and your sons." he answered before getting to his feet. "If you'll please wait here, I've sent all that I've found to the printer. I'll be only a second in retrieving what I've found for you."
"I'll be here when you get back. I'm looking forward to what you've found." the woman replied.
He left his office then went straight to the printer; the information on the houses that he found in his search was swiftly retrieved. With the information on the houses in-hand, he went to the office that he had used nearly forty minutes ago; he was worried that something had either come up or that he was given a sort of empty promise. With his being a politician, Stefan Leinart was a right busy man; maybe he wasn't able to get away from the building, or had a change of mind or something. He had just placed his hand on the office's door knob when, from the corner of his eye, he saw a stoutly built man, who had a youthful face despite being in his early fifties, coming down the hallway towards him. He turned his head and saw, to his disbelief, that the man that was walking towards him was none other than the new president of Germany.
The man wore a black tuxedo—the jacket had notched lapels on it that were right shiny—with matching black shoes. The brown coat that was lying across Mr. Leinart's arm looked rather expensive. The man, despite being fifty-three years of age, had a headful of orange-brown hair; the eyes that were set in the man's round face were hazel-colored. Mr. Stefan Leinart walked up to him briskly; he grabbed him by the shoulder then pulled him in close—a bit too close for his comfort! He tried to pull back a step but the man kept him where he was. The clean smell, that was present to the man, was normal and pleasant while the one of mothballs nearly caused him to cough.
The man asked him one question before releasing him; he was fast in answering it before edging past him then going to his office. The door to his office was closed; he had closed it to give his client some privacy and to, hopefully, keep her from leaving the building. He grabbed and then twisted the knob on the door; soon after he and Mr. Leinart walked into the room, his client stiffened in her chair. The nervous look, that was in her emerald-green eyes, was swiftly replaced with defensive anger that they were fast in noting.
"Whatever's going on, I want no part of it." his client said as she stood up from the chair. After getting to her feet, she started towards him and Mr. Leinart.
"Miss. Irene, I mean you no harm. I'm only here to help you in your and your sons' time of need." Stefan Leinart said smoothly and calmly. "Mr. Heiberg, here, tells me that you're looking to reside in my country. My name's Stefan Leinart—I'm the president of this country and I only wish to help you and your sons in getting settled here."
She stood before them; eyes flashing and darting, going from one to the other, looking to see if they were dangerous or benevolent. To Arnold Heiberg, she looked drop dead gorgeous—a term that the teenagers were saying. To Stefan Leinart, she looked beautiful but on-alert, which meant that trouble could happen. He had seen the papers and had heard the news on both the tube and the radio; this woman's fader was really creating havoc across the Atlantic for all human and animal life. This woman, who was so revered by the planet's people, was the cause for the pink shields being up; if not for them shields, the planet's history would of already been threatened and, quite possibly, changed. Her shields, along with protecting humanity from the aliens and monsters that dropped by with evil agendas, also protected the animals that roamed the planet. While the shields had come down a few times, she had always been there to replace them.
The woman that was walking towards him had disappeared over two thousand years ago—just after her secondborn son reached the age of nine months. Though it was presumed that the monsters who pursued her had captured her no one had known where she went. The presuming that everyone did was proven correct on the day of her return—along with making a return to her planet of birth and raising, she returned with two young infants and two mid-aged children. She had maintained the shields, had fixed a few of them up, then had disappeared for a while—presumably to take care of the four little ones that she returned with. She wasn't seen again for quite a while—for over two hundred years—then, when she was seen again, she was in the state of Oklahoma, which was one of the middle states on the North American continent. All four of her sons were with her. She stayed in Oklahoma for a short while before moving far north—she and her sons had lived in Canada for a right long time before moving down to a place called Green River, which was a city a right long time ago before downsizing to become a town. She and her sons had called Green River, Wyoming home for over three hundred years before disappearing; according to the papers, they disappeared either before, during, or after their apartment went up in a plume of green smoke on December 13, 4099.
It was speculated that a gas leak was the cause for the apartment's explosion; the apartment was pretty old—in many of the newspaper articles that he had read, it was claimed that the apartment was around four hundred years old. Miss. Irene found it one day in New York state then did something with either her magic or with her abilities to make it appear in Wyoming state. For reasons that had yet to be explained, most of the state of Wyoming was evacuated because of radiation poisoning, which occurred after the apartment exploded; as a precaution, several counties of the neighboring state of Colorado were also evacuated. While the apartment exploding, and the radiation alerts in Wyoming and Colorado was a shock, everyone was more concerned about the disappearance of Miss. Irene and her sons.
People that she knew, or that lived around her and her family, were questioned—not much was learned until the investigators spoke to some of the people that she worked with. It was discovered that her monstrous family had shown up three months before and that some issues were encountered with them. Curiously, Miss. Irene and her sons disappeared at the same time that the aliens and monsters that made up her family left the planet.
There were a few who had thought that they had perished in the explosion; some had said that they had seen Miss. Irene or one of her sons after the explosion; and around a dozen or so had tried to claim themselves as being her. For four months, she was deemed as missing then, on the dawn of nearly everyone forgetting the apartment's destruction, she suddenly appeared in a town in Colorado. It was just her that was seen—none of her sons were with her. Upon being question on her disappearance, the original assumption of her being abducted by her alien family was verified.
While the man beside him thought that she had an infant to look after he thought otherwise—he had checked the newspaper articles from the months prior to her disappearance and not a one mentioned her as giving birth to a fifth child. He figured that the mention of Miss. Irene having a fifth child was a misprint, a fluke in the newspaper system, or, quite possibly, someone within the newspaper business being too excited and not watching what he or she was putting in the column. The typical term for a human pregnancy was between eight and a half and nine months; there were no mentions in the newspapers about Miss. Irene dating anyone or looking pregnant before her alien family decided to show up and Miss. Irene had only been gone for four months. She would not of returned with an infant in-tote if she had caught pregnant during her captivity.
"What is it that you wish to help me with, Mr. Leinart?" Angel Irene asked after calming down some. "I came here asking for help in finding an apartment for my sons and I to reside in... I didn't come here looking for trouble."
"You're perfectly safe here—no trouble will find you while you and your sons are here." Stefan Leinart assured her. "How many rooms are you looking for in the apartment that you're looking to move your family into?"
"Three—it has to have two bathrooms in it."
"Miss. Irene, if I may, an apartment is much too small for a family of five to live comfortably in." Stefan Leinart replied after hearing what she was looking for. "You should be asking for a house instead; you and your children would be at each other's throats if you were all living in an apartment—conditions would be cramped... there'd be no space or privacy for anyone."
"We'll do fine—our former residence was a two-bedroom apartment; we did just fine in it. A house would cost too much—I only have $12,288 on me, which is enough for an apartment only." Angel replied.
"You let me worry about the cost of your resident home, ma'am." Stefan said. "How many are in your family again? Five?"
"Six—I have five sons." Angel said quickly. She was quiet for a short thirty seconds before speaking again. "Mr. Leinart, while what you've proposed to do is nice and all, I cannot accept that sort of charity. Although my sons are very well-behaved, and would help out with the care of a house, a house is just a lot for us to deal with; an apartment is much more in my comfort area, sir."
"I have confidence that you and your sons will do well in a house." Stefan said. "It is the least I can do for the heroine who both re-wrote the history books and kept us safe from the beast that is now wreaking havoc in the Americas."
"I'd go for a house instead of an apartment, Miss. Irene. You and your sons will be much more comfortable. You won't have any problems with the home or with the people around it—I made sure to look up neighborhoods that have good, honest people in them." Arnold Heiberg said.
"My sons and I do have to keep things on a down-scale, Mr. Leinart. We're sort of on the run... from my father, and from others as well. We're wanted—we're being searched for all over the Universe." Angel Irene said. "My husband has really been putting a lot of effort into finding us, I don't want to move into a house that you've paid for only to be taken from the planet and have you stuck with a property that you don't need nor want."
"You're much too kind, Miss. Irene. I understand your concern. It's no problem of mine to help you at all. I insist that you get a house." Stefan replied before turning to look at Arnold. "Mr. Heiberg, did you look up the housing that I asked you to when we spoke over the phone?"
"Yes. Found five houses—two that have four bedrooms, one that has six, and two that have five." Arnold Heiberg replied.
"Good. Now, Miss. Irene—I understand where you're coming from. You're scared for yourself and for your sons. This country is a safe place for you and for them. You won't have to worry a bit about your or their safety while you reside here. I promise you that. Are your sons nearby?" Stefan asked.
"Yes, they're in Brenners Park."
"My van is just outside—if you'll please follow me to it. I'll drive to Brenners with you then we'll pick your boys up then we'll get started on looking for a house for you and them to live in." Stefan said. He gave Arnold Heiberg a look; there were no words spoken between neither man—Arnold knew by instinct what he was being asked for. He gave the folder that had the information on the houses that he had found over then he stepped out of the way. Stefan Leinart, with Angel Irene following closely behind him, exited his office then started down the hallway; as they went down the hallway, Arnold heard his client trying to change Stefan Leinart's mind on the house that he had said he'd buy for her and her sons.