"Isn't that the girl that Father Maxwell took in?"
"Yeah wonder what she's doing here."
"Maybe he only took her in for appearances."
"She's kind of scary looking. Have you seen her eyes?"
The cluster of gossiping children didn't know it, but the girl they were talking about heard everything. Alice didn't know why her new step-father dumped her here in an orphanage in the middle of nowhere. Didn't he know adopting a child meant taking care of them, and giving them your own home to stay in?
"I heard she's a heathen," one boy whispered.
Alice snapped the twig she was playing with. She wasn't a heathen, and she hated be called that.
The next thing Alice remembered was a pair of strong arms picking her up from under the armpits and locking her arms behind her back.
"Father Anderson! Put me down!" she screamed squirming in his arms.
"And why do ye think I oughtta do that?" Anderson's deep voice asked, "So ye can continue ta beat the living hell outta these children? Is that it heathen?"
Alice growled deeply and started to struggle against Anderson's hold on her even more.
"Ye need ta learn ta accept what ye are child and life will come easier for ye."
But Alice never truly learned to accept who she was and continued to beat the living hell out of people, only now she was paid to do it. She didn't exactly like all of her coworkers, but people with debts to pay can't be choosers. She didn't know why that thought came back to her as she sped through downtown London on a motorcycle, maybe she was just homesick, and maybe she was sick of hearing all the comments about her accent. Whatever it was she didn't really know all she knew was that Integra would kill her if she didn'