Note: Sorry, I haven't been updating REALLY lately, and with school and AP classes, it's much tougher now. For now, this is all I have. Hopefully, I can keep it up, but I still have other characters' stories to do. Wish me luck.

2nd note (Feb. 11, 2005): It's been a while since I've updated this fic. For those who have read the story prior to February 11, 2005, you will notice that a few things have changed, particularly the removal of Redine. Since the last I've updated, my story has changed substantially, and Redine no longer fits into the plot. I apologize to those who remember reading about him.

It calls to me, penetrating my mind, grasping my heart and pulling me along with it. It is haunting, and I feel myself taking a step, one by one, towards its invisible source. Slowly I walk, straining to hear it, but as time passes, it fades, as if losing energy. My ears try to pick it up to no avail, and I am left standing in the middle of a bleak hallway, bloody corpses lying akimbo nearby, the stench of death starting to drift by. Only the huff of my nervous breathing breaks the dead silence, coming out in erratic rhythms.

Where could it be? I wonder, looking around for any sign of a clue as to the whereabouts of the voice. Nothing answers.

Curious to discover what may be hidden from me, I travel down a side hall quietly, afraid of any stray noise revealing my location to enemies, whoever they could be. Seems like I'm not quiet enough yet; from a distance, two sets of footsteps echo down the hall. Frantic for a hiding area, I duck into an office through sliding doors, search around, and finally slip under an executive bureau, complete with reddish brown drawers, a roll-out keyboard tray, and shining lacquer. I didn't take the time to see anything else.

After what seems like eternity, the footsteps come on, one set heavier, stronger than the other, the other light and soft.

"Christ, you're expecting me to do all the mind-work" I immediate recognize Jarold's voice.

"I expect you to make some brainstorming" a woman replies, chilling me with her monotone.

"Well, I've thought of every fuckin' way, and not one works" Bang on the table. "What do you think"

"...Send out more units. That's all we can do for now."

"Oh, you're a good strategist. How can I ever thank you" Jarold speaks with heavy sarcasm.

"Get your ass out there and do as I say. Standing around doing nothing will get us nowhere." Given the denotation, I expected the woman's tone to sound at least vexed. It doesn't.

"Um... Hello, I AM doing something here: thinking of some fuckin' way to take care of her, unlike a certain somene here..."

I suspect she gave him a cold look of death. Who was "her"?

"Watch your words."

Sigh. Jarold grumbles"Yes, your highness."

I hear the shuffling of feet, notably thick high-heels. "When she comes, use this. There is only one available now." The woman pauses. "Use it wisely."

Jarold sighs again. "Yes, yes, yes..."He stalks off, the door swishing behind him as he exits.

Before long, she exits, leaving me breathing heavily from the close encounter and wondering what was happening.

Who is this person they speak of? Could it be Dominique? It has to be; there can no doubt. As to what Jarold was given, could it be... a grenade? God, I hope not. Dominique hasn't done anything...has she?

I wait for a second before crawling out from under the bureau and run out of the office without looking back.

And I find myself in a completely different area from before, in the middle of what could only be hell.