Grass crunched underneath his feet as he entered the cemetery. A cool rain misted overhead. Soldiers lined up among the graves, completely still. Statues. The air was stale. It seemed like every step he took echoed around him. The streets were deserted, which was rather unusual for London at noon, though really, he didn't blame the people for not leaving their houses today. He wouldn't either if he had any other choice. He stopped in front of a gravestone, unadorned save for a weeping angel perched on top, a name, and a pair of dates.
MELODY SMITH (NEE POND)
April 10 1898- October 4 1937
He supposed it was rather fitting to meet here, of all places. A pair of feet alighted on the ground behind him. He knew who it was. Who it always was. She chased him around all through his life. Best friends through childhood, the worst of enemies after. She gave him everything, and stole it all away. She was one of the reasons he couldn't, wouldn't stop running. Because he wasn't running from his past, he was running from her.
"Hello." She spoke up from behind him. "Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" She snickered. "I thought we had something. A real relationship." He can hear the pout in her voice, but he knows it's all an act.
"What do you want?" He asked, spinning around to face her. "Why are you doing this?"
"You know what I want," She replied, her cold eyes drilling into his. "I want my friend back." Her voice was ice, her hyperborean words freezing him in place.
"No. Never again. Not after what you did." His voice was hoarse.
"What I did?" She lifted an eyebrow, her voice rising. "Did you honestly forget? You burned them all! Us, and them! You're the reason we're the only ones left! So, don't talk to me about what I've done until you've atoned for what you've done."
"It's different!" He hissed back at her. "You know why I had to do it, It was the only choice! You think I liked killing my children? My grandchildren? It was easier to do that than watch them all be slaughtered… One by one…" He trailed off, trapped in memories of his past.
"Then accept my gift. An entire army, millions of soldiers, at your command. You could stop it. The invasions, the hostilities, the wars. You could stop it all!" She walked up to him, and planted a searing kiss on his lips. He wouldn't deny that he liked it, until he felt cold metal clamp around his wrist. The control bracelet. "Go on then," she smirked, dropping into a curtsy. "Show a bad girl how it's done."
"No, I won't! I refuse!" He started to panic. "You can't make me do this!" He tried in vain to pull the cuff off his wrist, but it held fast.
"You don't have a choice." She stepped around him, trailing her hand over his arm. "Besides, you like it. All that power, at your fingertips. It's intoxicating, and you're addicted." Her voice had gone soft, barely above a whisper. Her breath misted over his ear. "Be my friend again."
His voice shook. He glanced over his shoulder, meeting her gaze.
"Best friends tend to make the worst enemies." With that parting statement, he turned sharply on his heel and strode out of the cemetery. As he was taking his last step, he lifted the command bracelet to his lips and whispered. The soldiers sprang into action. A few seconds later, and there was not a single living soul in the graveyard.