Author's Note: I was going to write about the drummer from Allen's dream. But then I heard a song called "Before the War" on a Dark Academia playlist about letters and it made me think of Max and Linda were they were kids. And thus this key was born. (Okay, there was a picture of a man in a gas mask too.) I think I have an idea of what I am going to do for the Halloween special for this series this season. I enjoyed writing about Linda and Max when they were kids. I can't wait to write more about them. I don't know what I plan to do next week. For now, enjoy this week's key.

Key Three: Max:

There's a drummer walking the streets at night around Japan. The residents keep their curtains closed when she walks by. Her light glows through curtains and blinds. None of the people have seen what she looks like. They can still hear her walking by.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Nobody knows why they won't take a look. It felt like an unspoken rule. The people didn't know what would if they looked upon the drummer. This had been going on for twenty-one nights.

Lenalee looked over at the notes.

"What exactly am I looking for?" she asked. Max looked over her shoulder.

"It's hard to say," she said. "They didn't give us clear instructions." Lenalee looked up.

"So… we're just on patrol tonight?" she asked.

"Yes," Max said. She had to try and keep her mouth shut. There were rumors back in England. Rumors about Komui.

"We don't know if it's true or not," Linda told her. "Don't say anything." Max saluted at her sister.

"Yes ma'am," she said. Linda didn't look too convinced but said nothing.

"When do we start?" Lenalee asked in the present day.

"Tonight," Max said. "They want us out there as soon as possible." The younger angel nodded.

"Okay," she said. "Um…"

-Max-

I remember our mother. She's the only thing that I have that reminds me that we used to be human. It's so strange. I remember her, but I don't remember her face.

Linda and I lived with our mother in Maine. We lived in a small coastal town. There was a small house between the forest and the sea. We lived on a hill in fact. I don't think we had any other known family. It was just mom, Linda, and me. (There were others, of course. But it was mostly Linda and me.)

Now, Linda and I were odd kids growing up. Most little girls our age loved dolls, dress-up, and playing pretend. We liked bugs, nature, dirt, and science. I think it was I who developed an interest in the worms in the mud behind our house. It had rained the night before. For some reason, I went outside without any shoes. When I was three, I liked the feeling of mud under my feet. I couldn't explain the feeling. As soon as I stepped into it, I smiled. Other little girls would find it gross. I loved it. I reveled in it.

On this particular day, I went outside and walked around our massive backyard. We didn't have a fence at the time. We could wander around where we wanted. Not like we had any neighbors close by. The closest house to us was about thirty miles away. Mom would have to drive there to get to them.

I digress.

Anyway, I was running around in the mud when something caught my attention. That wriggling mass of worms at my feet looked so beautiful. They got tangled up in each other overnight. They couldn't seem to get free of each other. I stood there, staring. How was such a thing even possible? It felt like I was staring at a dream. My little finger inched toward the writhing mass of little bodies.

"Max!"

I about jumped when I turned around. Linda stood behind me. We were skinny little children at the time. Sometimes, we looked so pale. Mom dressed us up alike just like typical parents with twins. That day we both wore long white dresses. I smiled at her.

"Look," I said. I pointed down to the ground. Linda walked over to my side and looked down.

"What is that?" she asked.

"Worms," I said. "There are so many of them." Linda looked down with me. We watched the massive balls wriggling around.

"Does it hurt them?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said. I reached down to them again.

"Don't!" Linda said as she grabbed my arm. I turned my head.

"Why?" I asked.

"You'll hurt them," she said.

"No, I won't," I said. I tried to pull away from her grasp.

"Stop, let go," I said.

"No!" Linda shouted. I managed to pull my wrist out of her little hands. I poked the many worms down at the mass. I stared at them.

"They are kind of slimy," I said. "But dry." I looked up at Linda. She had no emotion on her face. I stood up.

"Come on," I said. "Touch them." Linda shook her head.

"No," she said. She didn't back away from me. She didn't look disgusted either. Linda had no emotion on her face. I turned back to the wriggling mass of worms. I tried to touch them again. This time, they felt softer, squishier. Some of them wiggled around my little finger. My sister didn't stop me this time. She stood over me and watched. Linda might have been studying me. I think that's how we were at the time. I took the lead and she followed. It was like an unspoken rule between us. (I don't know how or when it changed.)

"Girls!" our mother shouted to us. Her voice broke our trance.

"Girls, come in!" she shouted. "Your lunch is ready!" Linda and I managed to tear ourselves away from that beautiful worm mass and go back inside. I remember what our mother sounds like but I can't remember her face.

Over the years we were buried in nature. I was the one who asked questions. Linda hung back and listened. I could see on her face that she was taking notes in her head. That's how we worked. It was part of the unspoken rules between us. They would change over time.

I didn't change much as we grew up. I was still geeky and into the earth and nature. Linda started to care about her looks but still loved the same things I did. It was when we were sixteen when things turned upside down. That's when the stranger came into town.

We never knew his name. We never saw his face either. When he first came to our town, he had on a gas mask that covered his face. He looked like he had bug eyes with his mask. The mouthpiece was large and round. Despite it being the middle of summer, he wore a thick black wool coat. The big rubber boots completed his look.

It was our mother who let him in. Looking back, I wish she hadn't. He was an omen. An omen that the world as we knew it would come to an end.

And from what I hear now, Linda and I weren't the only ones to see him back then.

I picked up the phone in my office.

"Hello?" Linda asked. I sat back in my chair.

"Hey Linda, do you remember the stranger who came to our house all those years ago?" I asked. There was a pause on the other line.

"Why are you asking me this now?" Linda asked. I looked around for a moment. I put my hand over the receiver and my mouth.

"I think it's happening again," I whispered.