SILENT HILL: Prelude to a Crappy Plotline; Episode Two
"Frank, put that cigarette out, please," Jim said as he flipped through the borderline pornographic channels on the television. "You're going to throw the fire alarm off or something." He sat up on the bed in the motel room and turned the TV off. "Besides, there's nothing good on TV. It's all porno."
"Well put it back on, Jim!" Frank commanded from within the restroom as he shaved. "We don't get to see that stuff back home!" He carefully slid the razor over his throat.
"For your information, Frank, I'm married," James responded as he pulled out from his travel bag an aged novel that was most likely pornographic in some way. As he took the bookmark out and started to read Frank stepped out of the restroom and looked about himself while continuing to shave.
"I really think we should leave tomorrow, Jim. We're obviously wanted on someone's death-list," he said ominously.
"We're not leaving tomorrow, Frank, and if it bothers you so much I'll do the job myself," James replied sternly. He shut his book closed and made to turn the lamp beside the beds off. "And if that's the case I better turn in."
Frank sighed and went back into the restroom to finish shaving. James switched the lamp off and the motel room was engulfed in darkness. Above him the ceiling fan spun around and around. James frowned and slid underneath the sheets and covers of the small bed and tried to sleep.
---
"I'll be fine on my own, Frank. It didn't seem like it was that big of a job anyway."
"It doesn't matter, Jim. If anything seems iffy you get out of there and find me."
"Sure, I know, but where are you going to go in the meantime?"
"Eh, I don't know. Look about the town, maybe buy some souvenirs. There's a tenant of mine that likes to travel and he and his wife like to collect those little snowball thingies."
"…They're snow globes, Franks."
"Right. Snow globes."
They entered the main building and headed for the reception desk, where a man with bright, curly strawberry hair and a green uniform was standing. He pressed his golden-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of his nose and smiled deceptively at the two. Frank fished around in his pocket and brought out their room key. "Hey, could you handle this for us while we're out?"
The man nodded professionally and took the key. "Of course, sir. I hope you enjoy your day." They turned and made to walk out but the receptionist hailed them. "Oh, and sir—if you happen to be searching for souvenirs, perchance, the amusement park has quite a variety of little trinkets; I'm sure you'd be able to find something that tickles your fancy there."
Frank blinked. "How did you-," he started to say, but James clamped his hand on his shoulder rather roughly.
"We'll take that into consideration, sir," he said, and directed Frank towards the door. "Thank you for the suggestion."
"My pleasure," and as they left he turned to the telephone behind the counter and inputted a short, four-digit number. He held the receiver to his ear and waited for something before saying, "Yes, they just left. I told them to visit the amusement park, just as you instructed. Are they armed? I don't know…" There was a pause and then a sudden bark on the other end. The man hopped back in response and nodded curtly several times, but it's not as if his superior could see him. "Yes, yes, I'll make sure immediately." He hung the phone up and shuffled about the small space before finding Frank and James' key. When he found it he looked around and spotted a woman reading the newspaper on a bench against the wall. He tilted his head at her, and she tilted hers back, and then he was out of there and gliding towards Room #104.
Once he arrived at the desired room he unlocked the door quickly and zipped inside. He was fast in his movements; he burned through the mattresses and closet, and then he looked into their travel bags. Most were locked, but some were only zippered closed. He glanced into these and saw nothing all that suspicious. Just some garments and small commodities; no firearms or ammunition like what had been reported. But he doubted the two were stupid enough to leave weapons in easily accessible travel bags and suitcases. And from what was reported, it was easy to assume that they were carrying their weapons with them or had them in the vehicle. Oh well. Better safe than sorry.
The man—whose true identity will be left unknown and be called Diego from this point onward—left to inform his superior.
---
Frank left James at the antique shop like he had the previous day and the younger man entered it with his bag of tools in one hand and his notepad in the other. "Miss Gillespie? Miss Gillespie, are you here?" If she wasn't, the front door was unlocked again.
"Hmm…" James set his equipment down and looked over the counter. Nothing. James moved away and heard a peculiar squishing noise from above him. He glanced up and saw a horrifying sight. A massive slug, covered in green, sticky slime was clinging to an air vent. It was humongous, and James backed away in fright. "What in the furry-,"
Before he had a chance to finish, and to his shock, the slug propelled itself from the vent and latched directly onto his face. James screamed and screamed again, clawing uselessly at the thing to rip it off. He stumbled to the side and crashed into the shelves on the wall, sending down all of the objects. As he did this one of the shelves seemed to nudge to the right due to the impact; the wall gave way from behind him and he fell down a small set of stairs, all the while trying to remove the mollusk from his face.
He successfully separated it and threw it to the floor upon hitting the altar at the bottom of the steps. The slug fell on it back but somehow flipped upright. James crawled away from it and squinted at it in disgust and horror.
"What type of demon-spawn are you?" he asked as it flew at him. He kicked it away and then proceeded to stomp on it, cursing fervently as he did so. "Burn in hell!" he muttered harshly when a light reflected off his face. He raised his hand to block it unconsciously but then turned to see what the source was. It was a candle… two, in fact.
James suddenly became aware of his surroundings. He had fallen down some steps and a short stretch of corridor when he bumped into the altar that took up most of the space in this small area. Lifting his foot carefully from the puddle of slime he inspected the altar that stood before him. Some sort of strange statue was standing on the dusted, red cloth that was spread over the surface of the altar. James touched the medallion around his neck lightly.
"What in the world is this…?" he mumbled when above him a door opened and closed. James frantically spun around and hurried back up. Fortunately, no one was in the lobby, and if someone had been they would have checked in to see what was down there. He quickly scoured around the shelves and luckily managed to press the right shelf; the wall closed up again, and then he began to gather up the fallen antiques and deposit them back on the shelves.
As he did so a girl came in from the hallway, dusting off her apron from a trip she had sustained earlier. She saw James and cleared her throat. "Uh, can I help you, sir?" He didn't look back at first. She tentatively tapped him on the shoulder and he whipped around almost immediately.
"Who-what-when-where…!"
"Sir, please calm down!" the girl said, and James slowly calmed down. He chuckled nervously and she ventured a question. "Are you a customer, sir? I can take your purchase-,"
"No, is Miss Gillespie in?"
"Oh no, she's out. I'm only the caretaker."
"Ah. Well, I'll take my leave then. Would you mind cleaning that up? I bumped into it by accident when I came in." He patted her lightly on the arm and then left. She surveyed the damage and sighed.
"What a strange man…"
Upon leaving the shop James was suddenly stricken by an extreme hunger. His stomach growled fiercely and he headed for the nearest restaurant; he had time to spare, too. Frank wouldn't expect him to be done with the work—if it would've been done today, and James didn't bother to think he could've done something—for another two hours at the least. That was enough time to pick up some food.
He spotted a Happy Burger nearby and made his way there. As predicted, inside was a grand bustle of customers ordering hamburgers and milkshakes and French fries. But James didn't want any of that. He felt like eating a soup, and if Happy Burger was the world's largest fast food chain, then shouldn't they have soup? This was an illogical idea, of course, but he didn't see what was wrong with it. Having an oversized slug fall on his face had made him hungry and had temporarily stopped him from thinking straight.
"Excuse me, but do you all sell soup?" he asked the cashier casually enough. At once everything fell silent. All eating, conversing, and overall living ceased. Yes, some people died. A little ways behind the front counter a dark-skinned man walked out; he was shakily holding a glass bottle.
"Joo wan' soup?" he demanded furiously while breaking the bottle across the surface of a nearby burner. James wasn't fazed by it.
"I was just asking. I mean, if you did you'd appeal to a wider range of customers."
"No, no, do joo wan' soup?"
"…Yeah, that's why I'm asking."
The man fumed and turned away, shaking his fists violently as he did so. He shoved a finger in James' face, his eyes bloodshot and insane. "Does this look like a soup restaraun'? Does it, white-boy?"
James reared back and nodded. The man removed his red-and-black cap and ran a hand over his shiny, bald head. "And joo still came, eh? EH?"
"I just wanted to ask, that's-,"
"Get out."
"Wait-,"
"Get out. GET OUT. Get the chit out of my store! Get THE CHIT OUT OF MY STORE!"
"But it isn't a store-,"
"GET OUT! JOO WANT SOUP? HERE'S YOUR SOUP!" The man grasped a cheeseburger from behind him and flung it at James. It hit him in the face and he held up his arms to protect himself. "THERE'S YOUR SOUP, NOW GET OUT!"
Even after all of this, James still wasn't thinking straight. "That wasn't soup!" he cried as the entire restaurant became a war zone. All around him people were throwing their food, trying to rid themselves of this filth. To rid themselves of this outcast.
"NO SOUP FOR JOO!" the man shouted one last time as James was hurled outside. "NO SOUP FOR JOO!"
---
After Frank had left James at the antique shop he had decided to follow the receptionist's suggestion and visit Lakeside Amusement Park. It was nice place, sure. Children were just being their annoying little selves and riding all the rides and running around bothering the adults. Frank parked and started towards the souvenir shop. Once inside Frank let out a long whistle.
Rabbits. Everywhere. There were figurines and toys of rabbits, shirts with logos of rabbits, and even cookies with rabbits on them! "Is it a mascot or something…?" Frank murmured as he walked through the aisles, browsing. He found the snow gloves easily enough; they came in a variety. The same anthropomorphic rabbit wearing overalls was in each of them, and he was giving presents to kids with a Santa hat on in one, setting off a firecracker in another, and cutting a turkey in yet another. Frank scratched his stubble. This was hardly scratching the surface. Thankfully he found one without the mascot, and it depicted Lakeview Hotel, and the words SILENT HILL were etched into the base of the globe. Frank took this one and shook it around a bit before taking it to the cashier, who put a smile on and found its price quickly.
"Hey," Frank said, genuinely curious, "is that rabbit your park's mascot or something? He's everywhere."
The clerk laughed and replied, "He's Robbie, Robbie the Rabbit. The kids love him, and he's been the park's mascot for I don't know how long."
Frank nodded, handed her the cash, received his change and receipt, and then was out of there. He stopped outside to light a smoke when an ice cream cart rolled up to him on squeaky, rusted wheels. Frank cast a glance at it and wasn't surprised; the proprietor was dressed in a Robbie the Rabbit costume, it just wasn't pink like all the rest. It was yellow.
"Hey, Robbie," Frank said in an attempt to be interested, "do you want to sell me some ice cream?"
The rabbit nodded, but didn't speak. This unnerved Frank just the slightest bit, and he leaned forward to get a better look at the cart's contents. "Robbie" slid it open and revealed that it was stocked full of ice cream bars, although they were all the same type. Frank took one and examined it. The wrapper was illustrated with an ice cream bar that resembled Robbie's face, except the eyes were just two black gumballs. A wooden stick was jammed into it beneath the chin. And it was pink. Not yellow. Frank sighed in relief, as if this was reassuring of something. That it was normal for Robbie to be pink and not yellow.
He looked up and "Robbie" was just staring at him. Frank turned away and saw someone he recognized instantly looking out over the railing at the lake some ways off. He held up two fingers and "Robbie" nodded again in that same slow, patient manner. It retrieved another bar from within the cart and then closed it, which Frank would later ponder, was odd. Why hadn't "Robbie" closed after the first bar? Had it known Frank would be requesting a second?
Frank held both of the bars in one hand while he fished around for his wallet, but "Robbie" shook a fat, furry yellow finger. Frank stopped at once and "Robbie" spread his arms out abruptly, as if to say it was his lucky day, and then wheeled his cart away. Frank was puzzled, but he shrugged it off and approached the woman that was overlooking the lake. He held the bar out to her and she gasped in slight surprise, turning to see him standing there with the stupidest grin on his face.
"Would you like the ice cream? I don't really want it." She just kept on staring at him with wide eyes, and he half-expected her to run off. "Your name's Miriam, right? I'm Frank. Frank Sunderland."
She was silent for another moment before gradually taking the bar in her hand and giggling. "Where, where are my manners? Yes, my name is Miriam." She averted her gaze from him and instead looked at the wrapped bar. "Um, did you need something, Mr. Sunderland? You didn't need to get me this, by the way."
"Don't sweat it about the ice cream; it was free," he said while lighting the smoke "Robbie" had stopped just minutes before. The other bar went into his jacket. Miriam looked at the cigarette and then at the ice cream. Frank took a drag. "And you looked kind of lonely over here all by yourself, so I decided to keep you company. Oh yeah, don't worry about what happened yesterday."
She nodded quickly several times. Frank chuckled and took another drag. "Aren't you going to eat it?" he asked upon seeing the Robbie bar still wrapped. "It'll melt soon. Do you like it? It was the only one the, uh… guy had. Yeah."
"Oh, yes," she answered meekly. "They're my favorite actually, it's just… I can't accept this. I don't deserve a gift."
"Don't think of it as a gift, then," Frank said. "Think of it as like… something you found on the ground. It's yours now, so you might as well eat it."
Her head bobbed finally and she unwrapped the Robbie bar very meticulously. Frank studied this closely; he would've just torn the damned thing off and stuffed the bar into his mouth. Margaret would've done the same, but now that he though about it, James acted similar to Miriam. He wouldn't take such care with it, but he wouldn't rip it off like nothing. Opposites. They attracted, didn't they?
She glanced around for some trash bin, and Frank took the—folded—wrapper and let it fall to the ground, where it was whisked away by the wind. Miriam didn't notice this act since she was so focused on the ice cream bar. Frank saw her muttering something under her breath and he strained to hear it—a prayer. It was a prayer. After it was over she gave the bar a small lick, and then another.
Frank sighed and dragged. "Why do you that? The prayer, I mean." He sucked on the rolled paper. This question seemed to strike her in a way that he could only interpret as surprise. It was a simple question, really. Why should she react so?
"…I've never really thought about that," she said. "That's just the way I've been taught my whole life. Don't you do it?"
"Pray?" Frank laughed at this as he plucked the cigarette out of his mouth. "Nah, I've never been a religious type of guy. My parents were, sure, and I was raised that way, yeah, but where was God when my little sister died before she was even born? Where was he? I used to pray a lot when I was a kid, even after it was over, and I would wait for some type of response. Did I get one? No. Did I keep on praying? Yeah. Did it matter? Like hell if I know." He lit another smoke.
Miriam was wide-eyed, but she said nothing. Frank looked at her and cleared his throat. "I didn't mean any offense, just got a bit carried away there…"
She didn't reply to this at once. "The Sisters… they say that God has a plan for each of us, so what happened to your sister… It was for a greater purpose, I'm sure."
"…'Greater purpose'?" Frank chuckled. "Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. I can't say. All I know is that if you can't see it, can't hear it, can't touch it, can't rely on it, then you shouldn't put your faith in it, and that's what I believe, so amen." He flicked the cigarette out into the lake and she let out a small gasp. He sighed and placed his hands on his hips tiredly.
"Um…" Miriam bowed her head. "I'm sorry…"
"What? Oh no, it's not your fault," Frank told her. "I just… I really didn't mean to trouble you." She shook her head.
"No, I'm fine… it's just that I live at the church, and hearing you talk like that… I'm just not used to it, that's all."
"Church?" Frank asked, and she nodded.
"Yes. I'm training to become a Sister one day," she responded. Frank nodded.
"To each his own, I guess," he said, and she bit into the bar. They were silent for a moment, and that's when someone came towards them.
"Ah, Miriam, what a pleasure seeing you out here today. And it seems you have a friend." Immediately Frank's expression turned stony. He took out another cigarette as the man neared.
He looked suspicious, actually. Tall and intimidating, and he stood straight with his shoulders tucked back. He was wearing a black suit, with a red shirt underneath. His hair—which was so light it was nearly white—was neatly combed over. But it was only grown on the top of his head. The back of his head was as bare as a baby's bottom.
"Father Wolf!" Miriam greeted with a quick bow of the head. Frank cocked an eyebrow. The man took one of her hands in his and shook it momentarily, then faced Frank and extended his hand.
"I don't believe we've met, sir. My name is Leonard Wolf." He was smiling, but his eyes weren't.
Frank shook his hand firmly and looked him square in the eye. "Frank Sunderland."
"Ah." Leonard released his grip and clasped his hands behind his back. "And would I be right in presuming you are a tourist?"
"You'd be half right," Frank said. "I'm here on work." He took a drag and blew the smoke out to his left.
"I see. Well, it is not my place to pry." He glanced at Miriam, who was just about done with her Robbie bar. "Miriam, aren't you supposed to be on duty? The Sisters wouldn't appreciate tardiness… or perhaps you're not late…?"
"If she's in any type of trouble, don't blame her for it," Frank said speedily. "I'm the one who's been holding her up. In fact," he snuffed his cigarette out, "I'll take her to wherever she needs to go, so you don't have to worry."
Leonard grinned and held an open hand out to Frank. "I'll leave it to you then, Mr. Sunderland. Miriam can tell you where to go and how to get there." He bowed politely and then went off. His pace was fast and rough. Once he made it to the entrance gates he stopped. Idling nearby was "Robbie", and Leonard motioned behind him. "You know what to do."
"Robbie" nodded in his way and then Leonard was gone. Afterwards "Robbie" disappeared into the crowd.
Meanwhile, Frank was smoking yet again. "You don't have to take me, Mr. Sunderland. The ice cream bar was enough, I assure you."
"Don't worry about it," Frank replied. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Is that man involved with the church, too?"
"Yes, Father Wolf is a priest at out church. He's one of our more prominent brothers. Sometimes… sometimes he breaks out in rather intense tirades, and he has reacted violently to a Sister before, I know that much, but he has our best interests in mind."
"…Are you sure about that?"
"Yes."
"Well…" Frank dragged. "Do you mind if we go pick up my assistant first? After that I'll take you to your church."
"That'd be fine."
And so they were on the road, riding out of the amusement park and in the direction of the antique shop. They didn't have to drive that far.
"Jim, what the hell are you doing out here?" Frank called from the car as he pulled over on the side of the street. James, who was walking down the sidewalk, saw his friend and made his way towards the car. Miriam trained her eyes on him from the passenger seat.
"Oh, hey Frank," James greeted as he came up to the side of the automobile. Frank's brow went up.
"Jim, you don't look so good." It was true. James was covered with soda, lettuce, and some pickles and other condiments. His hair was tousled. On his cheek was a small yet nasty red mark that resembled some type of bite.
He looked over himself and shrugged. "It's no big deal; I'll fill you in later. Anyway, it turns out that Miss Gillespie wasn't in, so we'll have to check in later. For now I just want to clean up." He climbed into the backseat and leaned back, throwing his arms around the top of the seats. He smiled at Miriam. "Hi."
"Hello."
Then they were on the road again, taking in the sights of the town and its citizens as they went. Miriam pointed out several key locations—Frank would be grateful for this information later on—but Frank did not notice the ice cream cart—and its proprietor—at every or so corner they rounded, and when they passed by Rosewater Park, Miriam stopped him.
"I'd like to go and see the lake for a few minutes, if that'd be all right with you," she said, and Frank nodded. James was already out of the car and heading for the park entrance. Frank and Miriam joined him.
The park was almost a small labyrinth, with tourist couples walking to and fro. They were eyed bashfully by Miriam, ignored by James, and dragged upon by Frank, who was, you guessed it, smoking another of his cancer sticks. When they made it to portion that was overlooking the lake, Miriam broke away from the two men and leaned over the railing, taking in the fresh air.
"The view of the lake here is so wonderful. It's best by the hotel by the lake, though; did you two get a room there?"
"Nah, we got a crappy one at Jack's Inn," Frank replied. "They have porno though, right Jim? You were the one watching and all."
"I wasn't watching it, Frank," James said, his normal countenance returning steadily.
Strangely, no one else was in this particular area, at least for the moment. Frank stuck his cigarette in his mouth and walked over to Miriam. He captured the lake's image and stored it in his mind; it really was beautiful. James was the only who stayed back, and he was the first to notice the forms that began to surround them.
"Frank," he said, and the older man nodded. Miriam glanced at both of them, uncertain about what was happening.
"Excuse me, but-,"
"So nice to see you again, you damned plumbers."
From out the walkway behind them a cloaked man strode out. His right hand was secured under his left arm, and his hood was down. The other six men that had imprisoned them in that area drew guns and readied crossbows. Frank motioned for Miriam, but she recognized the man instantly.
"Colbert, what are you doing?" she inquired, and the man held up his right arm, and where the hand had been was nothing more than a stump covered by a black cloth.
"Miriam, I would ask you the same thing. Why are you with these heretics? They attack us!"
"Wrong," Frank said. "You attacked us. We just defended ourselves."
"Is this true, Colbert? Why would you do such a thing?"
"I was ordered to, Miriam. These men are dangerous! They threaten our religious community, and even the restoration of God!" He removed a switchblade from his cloak with his left hand. "Besides, this is payback. Those men you killed were good friends of mine, and I will not allow their deaths to be in vain!" He rushed at Frank, but James stepped in-between the two and caught the man's wrist. He twisted it roughly and Colbert cried out as the knife hit the ground. James kicked him in the gut and sent him sprawling on all fours before socking him.
"Stop, please! Don't hurt him!" Miriam shouted, but Frank pushed her back as the other men fired their weapons and dove in. His revolver was out in a flash, and so were two of their enemies; they were dead before the allies even knew what hit them.
Meanwhile, because Miriam had distracted him, James was tackled to the ground by Colbert and was punched hard across the jaw. His attacker reached hysterically for the switchblade, but James had his hand on it first. He stabbed Colbert in the shoulder, pushed him off, drew his revolver—Frank had one of the pair and he had given the other to James—and pulled the trigger. Colbert, for the most part, was gone.
Frank expertly avoided the attacks from the others while shooting them away. Miriam witnessed this in terror as her brothers—people she knew and had grown up with—were killed in the blink of an eye. However, some part of her deep down inside wasn't angry with Frank and James, but rather with her Brothers; hadn't they attacked them without justification? This was karma.
She was thinking this when someone grasped her by the arms. She screamed, "Frank!" and it came out without much thought. At the sound of his name Frank turned and launched his cigarette at her capturer, and he gasped upon realizing who it was: "Robbie". The cigarette sunk into the costume's left eye and burned it to a crisp. Miriam ran to the two men and James thumbed the revolver.
"I'll take him, Frank!" he exclaimed while shooting. Frank and Miriam moved away hastily as the bullet flew right at "Robbie", but it tilted its head to the side and avoided the bullet entirely. "Robbie" moved its head from side-to-side mockingly and then dashed towards James at a startling speed. He rolled to the left to get out of their adversary's way. Frank aimed his revolver and James did the same. They fired. James' bullet was evaded, but Frank's was true; the right shoulder of "Robbie" was blown away, and the thing hobbled back. It shrugged quickly and then somersaulted into the air to a far-off location.
"What was that?" James asked. "And that speed… there's no way a human could be that fast…" Frank remained quiet, and then he turned to Miriam.
"Are you okay? That thing didn't hurt you, did it?"
"…No," she said timidly, and sighed. "I—I don't understand why they would attack you. You're good people from what I've seen. You haven't done anything to them before, have you?"
Frank shook his head. "Yesterday that man and some of his cronies assaulted us out on the street. We didn't do anything. Hell, we don't even know who they are!"
"They're…" Miriam trailed off and then she shook her head. "Never mind it. You two should leave. If they went after you once, they might do it again. You're in danger."
Frank chuckled. "Oh, you're just like Jim! Paranoid about everything!"
James' eyebrow went up. "Frank, you were the one paranoid about being attacked yesterday. In fact, you're the one who wanted to leave! It seems like ever since you met Miriam you've been acting different."
"That's crazy, Jim," Frank said as he slapped the younger man in the back of the head. Miriam watched them interestedly. Frank laughed and gestured forward. "Come on, let's get out of here!"
---
"So… you neglected killing him for risk of bodily harm?" Dahlia sighed from her place at the table. "Robbie" was by the entrance of the room and it lowered its head shamefully. Leonard was sitting opposite her and he laughed.
"I met him myself, Dahlia; there is no way Mr. Sunderland will be a threat, I assure you. Colbert was unfit for the task, that's all."
Another man sitting at the table giggled maniacally. He pushed his small, violet-tinted glasses up the bridge of his nose with his white-gloved hand. "Why don't you allow me to take care of him? It's been quite awhile since I've had a good challenge, and I am growing very thirsty for blood…"
"You're too much of a liability to send out into the open town, obviously," the man sitting across from him said. "You'd slaughter innocents."
"Don't flatter yourself, Michael," Leonard said. "You wouldn't know an innocent soul from a guilty one. It doesn't matter to you unless you receive your share of the kill. And you know very well what I mean."
Michael Kaufmann was silenced by this, and no one said a word until a newcomer entered the dark room.
"…I'll take care of this Sunderland," the woman said coolly, and Leonard nodded several times.
"Yes, you'll be more than enough for him!" he said, and the woman brushed aside a strand of her incredibly long raven hair. Her white dress swayed behind her as she smiled and departed the chamber, leaving the other members of The Organization's Elite to discuss other matters.
END EPISODE TWO
