Kuwait, Iraq, Persian Gulf

1991

"Here we go, little one," I said to the young child I was mending, seeing his massive gorgeous eyes looking at me as I was wrapping his arm gently and carefully in a clean wrap. He was sitting so still on the makeshift medic bed that we had set up underneath the medical tent near the Kuwait battle zone. Tanks were slowly going by and taking a check of the permitter as I soldiers were to and fro. The heat of the desert was itching down my spine, even through the military clothing I was in and the bandana was over my hair to push it away from my eyes.

In any case, it was chaos.

I found myself a combat medic for the French Foreign Legion during the Gulf War, the shift within myself want to help serve and protect others. Wars, to me, were messy and chaotic. Even when I was involved in a few of them in the past, it was different then since I was alone. I had a turn and a different thought of war, since now I could clearly see the outcomes of those who were caught in the crossfire. So, instead of fighting and shoot a gun towards an enemy, I wanted to do something else about it.

I wanted to heal others.

It wasn't a difficult decision for me to join and help in the cause of the Gulf War, but it was a new perspective to see what was happening. It was a new era of war, the last big war I fought in was a mere 40 years ago in Europe at the rising of the Nazis. This time around, seeing young soldiers who were barely out of high school and so young and naive in the world falling to land mines and ambushes in the hot desert and isolation. It was a churn in my stomach as I watched, trying to save as many as I could. Of course, I had my own personal alias to give them when I enlisted and I of course went for the French Foreign Legion.

Thus far, I was willing to stay on the sidelines and not in the line of fire. It was better for me so that I wouldn't be found out with my Immortality, but then again a part of me missed the fight. This fight was brutal, to say the least. I was tending to blown limbs and soldiers being shot in the brain. All of the soldiers looked like children, mere infants to me as I watched some of them die in my arms.

But of course, war was war.

Currently, I was helping with a few children that were from a town nearby that got caught in the crossfire from the attack. I've done this before, gravitating to the little ones as others weren't prone to. I couldn't help it, maybe it was because I was a female and those motherly instincts were kicking in at moments, or that I was more prone to going to the victims than making victims. Either way, the kids were comfortable with me,

"All better now, see?" I asked the child, a young boy who was barely 7 years old. He looked at his arm that I wrapped, a few other children were behind him looking too. I said back on my haunches a bit as he then gave me a grin. I rolled my eyes playfully at him, looking around for a brief moment or two before I fished out a handful of candy that I store away. Of course, I would get in trouble with giving out sweets, but with me being my age, I would ignore them mostly. I knew the other medics were doing the same too since we were the ones who were just trying to heal and not hurt.

"Shh!" I said with my finger to my lips to the children who were giggling. I held it out for them, seeing them all each get a pice. I kept an extra piece for the boy I was tending too, seeing him give me a wide smile, "For my patient."

He nodded at me.

"Merci," he said in French with his tiny voice, having me wink at him as an older child then took his hand.

"Aller. Soit en pain," I said to him, kissing my hand then placing my hand on his head as a sign fo a blessing. The children then hurried out of the tent, having me sigh and get up to sit on the cot the child was on not too long ago. Even when I would be with the children and mend to them with a big smile on my face, I would get drained.

I pushed my bandana down to be around my neck and I wiped my face, exhausted as another medic was walking though the tent with supplies under his arm. He was a burly medic, almost like a thick tree trunk in the wool forests of Bulgaria. But he had kind eyes and he was like me: a healer not a fighter.

"You are far too good to the children," He said, his thick French accent was ringing in the tent but he chuckled as I gave him a tired smile, "That's gotten you in trouble before, no?"

"Oui," I muttered out as I leaned back a bit and stretched my legs on the sandy floor, "I can't help it though. They're innocent in this war,"

"They are," He said in agreement as he placed his supplies on a cot near me, rolling them out to rearrange them, "At this rate, we'll have to mend more broken limbs and bones of the children than those who are inflicting this war,"

"You never get tired of it?" I asked him in curiosity, seeing him use in his work as he then looked at me for his spot to my left. His eyes were soothing and yet hard, known to be in the better situations of an emergency operation that was needed. His hands were sturdy and strong in those times, I envied that.

"I do….at times," He said to me, having me give him a gentle smile as he pointed at me, "Though with you, it takes a diligent soul to love on children who are not their own,"

"Perhaps their families are gone," I suggested, shrugging my shoulders, "They have no one to hold them and protect them, to love them as they are," I paused, my mind traveling somewhere else as I said that. I thought of the four I left behind, wondering where they were in the world and if they were alright.

I thought of them constantly, even as the years were going along farther down the road. It didn't matter if I was part of the Norwegian Mobile Army Surgical Hospital during the Korean War, or I traveled to America on the hunt for the Nazis that fled there and hid in plain sight. All of that time, I dreamt of my found family.

I dreamt of Andy and her strength in her bones and eyes when she would fight. Booker and his need to search for some kind of enlightenment with his life as an Immortal which lead him to liquor. Joe and his soft smile and how he would sketch a picture with his delicates hands and then break a neck mere moment later if he had to. Lastly, of course, of Nicky with his kindness and joy for the simpler things around him and almost laced with a protectiveness that was engrained in him.

There were nights I cried myself to sleep missing them. Yearning to have them nearby in case I needed someone to talk to or just be near in the silence. I felt that ache within me to go back to them, at least try to. But of course, my head was overruling my heart because of still feeling that pain and guilt. The guilt overtook me, and it killed me from the inside out as I cried to sleep some nights.

"You've lost your family?"

I was broken back to my senses as the medic was looking at me, seeing that I was in deep thought. he walked over to sit on the cot with me, hands folded as his elbows were in his lap and he was watching me. I nodded.

"A long time ago," I said to him, seeing him look at me intensely, "They died when I was very young,"

"I'm sorry to hear," He said to me, having me give him an attempt of a weak smile, "Perhaps this can be your new family?"

"New family?" I asked, seeing him shrug.

"Families can be made from those not of your own blood," he explained, "I've seen it plenty of times here in the military. Now with me, I was adopted into my family as a baby. I never knew my birth mother or father. However, the women who raised me, the man who taught me discipline and kindness, they were my mother and father. Not by blood, but by something else deeper,"

"Deeper," I repeated with a raised eyebrow. He gave me a kind smile, pointing to his chest with one finger.

"Âme," he said, having me grin back at him. I knew what he was talking about then, but I couldn't say. In the back of my mind, I was thinking about those four, how it all made sense to me in how my comrade was telling me.

"Soul is what makes us human, makes me live as humans," he explained some more as he was leaning back on his hands on the cot, "Even in a place like this where there is war, souls can be found and mended, bound together in comrades who die for one another, or in those who wish to be a family," I had to give him a look of adoration as he was gently saying such things, though he was giant in stature.

"You are far too wise to be in the military," I joked with him, seeing him chuckled as he got up from the cot before eye me with a gentle grin.

"You know, my mother wanted me to be an author, but I chose the military. Might have been a better choice for me, no?" he said in a whole belly laugh. I giggled as he walked away and back to his supplies, my laughter going silent and I was thinking again. Maybe my new family was something I missed more than I cared to admit. Their faces were in my brain and mind when I never thought they would be.

Was this some kind of sign for me to go back to them?

Modern Day

Copley finally got back to us with all that we sent him, later that day after dinner. It was in fact what we feared it would be: Modern Nazis. They were notoriously secretive, smart, and true in the old ways of their forefathers. Nothing was really out of the ordinary with them when it came to their beliefs, seen at most political rallies and peaceful protests. They were outspoken to radicals, clashed with the modernizers, and were so firm in their beliefs that thought they were untouchable.

"They've kept files on those who went against them back in World War II, those they deemed brought them to their downfall," Copley explained over speakerphone as we were all sitting together at the kitchen table, seeing the files he emailed to Andy on the laptop. Andy was going through them as we were all standing behind her, watching silently as we were seeing faces of those they killed.

"They hunted down survivors that slipped through their camps and programs that certain officers and doctors conducted. One of them was where Eleanor was taken too, she wasn't the only victim to the doctor," Copley explained some more as I felt a twinge of fear and sadness from seeing those they killed, "There were at least 33 other prisoners that he conducted experiments on before Eleanor came along."

"Did any of them survive?" Andy asked, hearing nothing from Copley for a mere few seconds.

"None of them survived," He replied, having me clutch the back fo Andy's chair with my fingers. Andy gave me a brief look over her shoulder as he went on, "In fact, Eleanor is the only known survivor of Stieve. Some of his closest colleagues, and eventually his son and grandson, were on a manhunt for those who survived him and the war."

"Why would he go after them again, even after that war?" Nile asked, looking at Andy in both conner and confusion.

"Because they knew his secrets and could expose him and the rest of the Nazis to the world," Andy answered bitterly.

"That's what he thought apparently, according to some of the records that were found in his grandson's flat after it was set on fire. Those records were shown to have locations and whereabouts of the survivors, or where they were at last, and all but one were killed by Nazi associates," Copley added from his end of the phone, which made me finally speak up.

"Did they have anything on me? A file or a picture?" I asked him, needing to know that there was some kind of knowledge of me out there in the world that we might have forgotten about. Andy turned a bit and patted my hand that was still plastered to the wood of the chair, sensing my uneasiness.

"Nothing concrete," Copley answered for me, "They were papers that he wrote down later down the road in his life before he died in Brazil, mentions of a, and I quote: "Special Specimen'. Here, I'll send a file on what we found. He called it: Project Fräulein"

A few moments later, a file popped up on the screen and we were all reading it silently as it was there in front of me. Of course, the first thing we saw was a picture of me, laid out on that infamous metal table, and strapped down by the wrists and legs. I was apparently either passed out or dead with dried blood scattered on my body and my skin barely pale, had shaven down, and hollowed eyes.

"Christ," Nile said in a sorrowful tone, looking over at me briefly with intense eyes. I wasn't focused on her, or how the others were watching me carefully. I was looking at the report he had typed out on the scanned file.

" 'Patient has the keen ability to stay alive and alert after several rounds of tests'." I read aloud, the others were watching me as I then took the laptop carefully from the table in front of Andy and held it in my hands, " 'Wounds have ceded themself easily, showing possible signs of experimentation that other patients have not survived through. Standard wounds and possible extractions do not phase her..'."

"Eleanor, you don't have to—" Andy started with me softly as she was getting up from the table to take it from me. I held up my hand to stop her but my eyes were still on the screen. I knew what I was doing was downright stupid, willing to let myself be drawn back to that dark place in my mind. But this was something I had to do, something deep within me needed to have some kind of closer and end to my inward battle.

" 'Intense eternal experiments are underway with the patient, once again showing her natural ability not to perish or die. Findings show that there could be a possibility to break a generic code and solve the natural question of human life…perhaps expanding it. A prize such as this…recognition amongst the masses…oh the wonders and fame I'll receive..'. Motherfucker….."

I finally slammed my eyes shut and breathed out a shaky breath. No, there wasn't sadness and pain there anymore. Something else was growing on the inside and making itself known. I wanted to break the nearest window with my fist, break a door with my own bare hands…I wanted to do something to let out my anger.

I felt the laptop being taken out of my hands very carefully and gently, my eyes slowly opening to see it was Joe that took it. He was giving me a sad look, sensing what I was feeling as he placed the laptop on the table and gave me a bit of space. Andy stood up in her chair, facing me as I was clenching and unclenching in rhythm and pace and giving her an intense look

"He wanted to sell me out and use me for a fucking war prize," I gritted out through my teeth, already seeing red behind my eyesight.

"And if he was alive today, then we would have made him pay for what he did," Andy reminded me, having me hearing the bitterness in her tone of voice. Somehow, that made me calm myself down seeing the intense look in her eye. Andy saw what I looked like when they rescued me, the brokenness in my body, and how I was lost in my head. She felt it too, even through her tough exterior. I unclenched my fists one last time and I breathed a full breath.

"He still has a grandson, Daniel's father named Randall," Copley said into the speakerphone as Nile held the phone up in her hand, "He's a well-known architect, but he does help financially with this group and their demonstrations. If there's anyone who's been trying to finish the exterminations, it would be him."

"Where is he now?" Andy asked.

"His home base of work is in Bern, Switzerland. That's been his main base for work, and some of the Nazi activities have to organized there as well since they wouldn't be able to do that solely in Germany." Copley answered for her, "Right now I'm doing a routine check on all the members of the group: criminal and financial records, in case you need to be aware of it," Andy walked over to where Nile was with the phone, holding her hand out silently asking her to hand it over. Nile did, and Andy was once again standing in her power stance.

"We can head out in a week," She explained, all of us watching her as she was thinking to herself, "We'll get a plan set in motion to make our way out there and find out where they are,"

"It might be a risk, boss," Nicky warned her, and I could see how he was looking at her he was meaning multiple things. By now, everyone including Copley knew about her mortality and how now she would have to be extra careful in whatever she did. There was going to be a small shift in how things were going to play out for now on with us, and with her as our leader. Andy knew, she felt it and she knew.

She gave Nicky a knowing look, sensing what he was talking about before her eye went over to me. I felt a bit taken by how she was looking at me carefully and intensely as he nodded her head at me.

"This is your call," She said to me, the others looking over at me too. It felt like I was about to go through some kind of stage freight now since this decision was going to be massive for me to make on my own. One side wanted me to go, to fly over there, and find this group who was trying to kill and my family. I wanted it so sad to end and leave me finally.

But, the other side of me, it was trying to have me wish not to go.

My moral side told me that I was already past it, that I was already moving forward with my life and not wanting to go back. It was tempting me so much to just give up, throw my hands up to the sky and let it be.

I heard it though…the small piece of what that French soldier told me back in the Gulf War what seemed like so long ago. I carefully pressed my finger to my chest without me saying anything and looking down at my hand that was against my chest.

"Âme," I said quietly, hearing his voice in my head as I said it. The others looked at me in confusion as I finally looked back at Andy, pressing my whole palm against my chest near my now as I knew my answer for her.

"These men….monsters…they're not just after me…they're after you all too," I said to them, looking at them each in the eye as I kept talking, "They know that you exist, not just me…and if let anything were to happen to any of you…"

"Eleanor," Joe was about to say something to me to stop, but I shook my head and he went quiet.

"It would kill me from the inside out," I kept going, my voice sounding a bit stronger than it was before, "You are my family, all of you are. You're my Âme… my soul…at least a part of my soul," I clenched my shirt that was against my hand, giving each of them an intense look as I finally looked back at Andy and seeing how she was almost moved with what I was saying, "They tried to break my soul once…and I won't let it happen again. Not now, not to anyone else, especially you….never again,"

It felt good to say it aloud, how I wanted to express to them how I felt. I could see how Nile was smiling so big and there were almost tears on her face. Joe and Nicky's faces matched each other: Affectionate and strong. Andy's face was the only that was solemn and yet set. I smiled at her, feeling glad that I told her how I truly felt about all of this.

I gave her a single nod, seeing her hold the phone back up near her mouth.

"Get the itinerary ready for us, Copley. We head out for Switzerland in a week,"

We were getting things ready for our trip out within the week. Copley was willing to help get us our transportation, passports, and aliases at the ready. Andy was going over the information on the Nazi group and their members in case we would have a run-in with any of them anytime while we were out there. Nile and I were teaming up with going over the floor plans of the building where Randall worked, going over every floor and every way to enter and exit. Which left Joe and Nicky to work on our inventory with weapons and how we can et them from here to Switzerland.

The first two days of planning were draining, but it didn't help when I dreamt of the man again late into the morning.

It was just like before: the first thing I saw was those seagrass eyes. They were so pristine and distinct in my dream, in a way that once again I felt like I was merely lost within them. His face, though it was youthful, almost looked older with particular lines along his jawline and his neck. His hair, now that I saw him a second time, was a particular shade of brown that was both light and serene but it had some shade too.

He was so particular in my mind that it was beyond odd that I was seeing him like this.

I saw a few more things in that dream that I didn't see before: he was in some kind of uniform. But it wasn't an American uniform. He was British, I could see it on his sigma on the uniform, and in how the pattern was along with the fabric as well. There were well-seen tattoos along his arms since his sleeves were rolled up, having me see a splash of color along his tan skin as I finally could see some kind of name on his chest embroidered on the fabric.

Jackson

Once again, I woke up with a gasp on my lips and my mind racing and the round of rain hitting the roof. What was going on with me?

It felt like I already knew him, but I never met him and barely saw his face. Yet, his face was etched in my brain that it was hard to look away from it and forget it. Why was this happening just to me and not the others? Was there something else embedded on only me seeing him?

But most of all, why was I feeling some kind of an emotional pull towards someone I never met.

Of course, there were men I saw in the past who I deemed were handsome. It wasn't that I was s shy blushing virgin, I had times to give in to a passerby on my travels. But…at least in my mind…there was nothing settling me in on the concept of true love. It was rare, and almost seemed impossible for me to have that with another that wasn't an immortal. Life kept going in the world: babies were born and bodies were buried. Love to me was something that almost seemed barely out fo reach and no longer there for me.

Nicky and Joe, of course, they were the exception to that rule. They had luck on their side, though it took plenty of times of murdering each other for them to realize that they were meant to be together not as enemies but as friends….later one it blossomed into something pure. Something pure…something beyond good.

They were rare in our life.

I held my head in my hands, attempting to just get some sense of reality again as I was back in my room. It was barely morning, four days out until we were going to go to Switzerland. Our plan was coming along very well, and yet it felt like I was still two steps back with what we were about to do. I was more than ready to go there and confront these people, having my family behind me, but was I fully ready?

I needed a distraction: I needed my cello.

I took my cello and walked it down to the first floor, haring the house being suspiciously empty and nothing moving around. I had a strong feeling that a couple of them went on some kind of supply run for the upcoming job. But it was raining, soft rain made the whole house seem calm and peaceful as I walked through the living room and towards the backdoor.

I've done this before when I was a bit lonely, there were certain times when it needed to unwind in my head. This time was just the same as any other time, setting up my chair right next to the stereo that I had on a shelf near the back doors. I would find some of my favorite pieces of music to play the cello to and mimic, making me think back to when I would play in some of the symphonies back in the day. They were good times, almost numbing times from what I was feeling.

Clicking on the right track on the CD, I positioned my bow in my hand and cot my fingers ready along the neck of the cello, closing my eyes softly and heading the start of the song. It was one of my favorite pieces ever: Humoresque No. 7 in G-flat Major Op. 101. I would play this all the time, and hearing the soft background orchestra on the stereo helped me play along.

Things were filling my head over and over, but it was mostly of a strange man. I had no idea who he was, where he was from, and why I was dreaming about him multiple times. He wasn't dead or was he about to die. At least I don't think as I kept playing the song. I wasn't particularly listening to the music anymore since I could do this song by memory.

All fo this happening to me within a few weeks, it felt so fast and so chaotic at the same time. The last thing I did on my own before all of this opened up. I had a flat in Paris, I was fine on my own at that time. But this was now a flood: reuniting with the others I called family, the Nazis having a target on first my back and now the others, and seeing some strangely beautiful and yet distant strange in my mind. It was haunting for me, and I didn't know how to navigate it properly.

Was I losing it?

A crescendo was heard halfway through the piece when it went from being an uplifting sound to almost melodramatic. I dug my fingers into the strings as I moved the bow across the surface of the string in a soothing fashion. The swell of the song made me move along a bit while playing at the same time. This part of the song almost made me want to cry as I played it every time since to me it sounded like the part of the song that was about heartbreak. The first part was light and almost playful to listen to, which was a huge contrast to how it was now since it seemed so low and eerily romantic.

I held out one note on the cello, instantly thinking back to when I was seeing his face in my head once more. It almost was like this song was meant to be played….when I thought of him. That couldn't make sense at all to me, since I never knew him. Once I lowered my bow…I was looking dead ahead at the garden that was in front of me and seeing the light rainfall that was scattering the backyard and foliage outside. I gripped the neck of the cello as I felt lost in that moment, the music stopping on the stereo.

Looking out, it made me remember being out in the filed so long ago in rage and depression.

"You sound beautiful."

It was Andy, walking over with a spare chair in hand as she placed it next to me and sat down in it. I gave her a small smile, looking over at her and seeing her give me a look of curiosity.

"Lots of practice," I replied to her as I leaned back in my own chair, "It's my favorite piece of play."

Andy hummed, nodding her head as she then gave me a questioning look, "Dvorák, right?"

I chuckled, "How'd you know?"

Her look at me was almost just as inquisitive as before as if she was shocked by me asking her such a thing, but her smile was slowly back on her face, "Because that was all you talked about right at the turn of the 20th Century. You wanted to see the orchestra debut of that piece in America, remember?"

I was silent, trying to think back at that moment so long ago. But then it clicked in my head suddenly and I grinned from ear to ear, almost hiding my face in my hand in embarrassment.

"Of course! They were going to play it in New York City and I heard about it, wanting to go so bad because I thought it would be wonderful! We all went together, dressed like we were movie stars," I had to laugh from remembering that night as we were all going in together and sitting in a private box, the best view and yet away from the prying eyes of the world.

"Booker got us that viewing box, needing to pull from strings but he wanted to because he knew you'd like it," Andy went on, adding to the memory with a small flicker of happiness on her face, "You never took your eyes off the stage as they were paying each piece. You even rested your head and arms on the railing like a child, looking at each musician with fascination,"

"I was too in love with the music to care," I said in snort as we were grinning, looking down at my cello that I was holding and having me feel a bit somber now. Andy could sense it as she carefully placed her hand on my shoulder.

"I know, Eleanor," She said to me, having me look back at her now, "I miss him too,"

"It's not just him," I reassured her, seeing her cock her eye at me as I then lower my cello careful on its side on the ground, along with the bow as I sat back up in the chair and turned to face her, "I've dreamt about that man now.. at least three times…and all those times they were….I don't know how to say it…they made me lose my breath,"

Andy still kept her stare at me, not knowing a change of her mood as I went on.

"I never felt that way about anyone before, especially for someone who I never met before. I know he's not dying because the others would have felt it too….but it was almost the same feeling. I don't know, like I was there but I wasn't, it was—" I kept rambling, thinking that it was better for me to get it out of my brain before Andy cut me off.

"So real," She ended, having me look at her now with a bit of shock.

"Yeah," I agreed, seeing that look flashed on her face when we talked about this before with the others. I leaned over to er a bit now as she was thinking to herself. This face, a distinct and gentle face that showed pain behind her eyes and along her lips. I saw it before…down on the beach in Nassau when she came into the lives of myself, Nicky and Joe.

"Has this happened to you?" I asked her cautiously. She gave me a weary look, and I knew who she was thinking about and it made my heartbreak. It took me long enough to realize and I didn't know why I didn't see it before. It made me sad.

"Quynh," I said her name, already feeling bad that I did. I reached over to lace our fingers together there as Andy finally found her voice.

"I had those same kinds of dreams before she and I ever met," She admitted to me, and I could tell although this was hard for her to say, she wanted to say it and it didn't feel like pulling teeth, "I was thinking the same thing you were. And it was almost a week or so before she died,"

"I can't say that this is normal…since the others haven't had that," I trailed off, not knowing what else to say about it as I then gave her a pondering yet gentle gaze, "What you and Quynh had….together…that's special,"

Andy gave me a small look, showing that she heard me and what somewhat appreciate it. But I knew there was still pain behind it as I cleared my throat, "But…with whoever I'm dreaming about….I don't want it to interfere with what we're about to do,"

"It'll happen," Andy warned me gently, "When I dreamed of Quynh, I had no control of it. Even in times when I didn't want it…they happened. But I do know is this…there is a real purpose behind having a dream about him, whoever he is…all it takes is time to find out what it means for you, who he means for you,"

"The last thing I want to worry about is some guy I'm dreaming about," I muttered, almost wanting to roll my eyes from how silly it was that I would both experience this and get worked up by it at the same time. I was never one to chase after boys and men, I never did. But this..this felt different. So I decided to leave the conversation at rest, though it will rest in the back of my mind. Especially his sea glass eyes, and his name.

"Where are the others?" I asked her, changing the subject, seeing him sit up a bit.

"On their way back from town," Andy explained, "Though I don't think they'll have what we need to go through with this job." I could see the uneasiness on her face from thinking about it, "I don't want a repeat of what we dealt with before the whole fiasco with Merrick,"

I nodded, knowing that she was going to try and make this as smooth as possible, as she did in the past with us. This was almost a new territory, and I could tell it could go left if we weren't careful. It gave me an idea, getting up from the chair and looking down at Andy. I trusted her, and the others, so for me this was going to be a better choice for us in the end, to see my basement.

"I wanna show you and the others something,"

Going through the keypad that was on the outside of the basement door, I lead the others down the stairs into the darkness. I knew how many steps there were, the smell of old wood and dust filling our noses as I made it to the bottom, finding the light switch on the side of the wall, and then placing my finger on it.

"Only thing I ask of you guys," I paused, talking out loud in the room as I knew the others were off the steps of the stairs, "Try not to touch anything,"

"Why?" Nile asked in worry, but I said nothing and turned on the light.

The basement was the same size as the living room, concrete walls and blacked-out windows were at the very top of the walls. All on one wall were guns of various shapes and sizes, placed on display within perfect precision and spacing within each other. Some of them, of course, were ancient from what I took in the past, and others were from the modern ear. I bad cabinets underneath the guns that held the holsters and shells.

Another wall was dedicated to my bow and arrows, along with daggers and swords. It was just the same as the guns, the bows hung up on hooks and were easily ready for the taking. They varied in sizes and shapes, the more modern ones looked complicated and tactile in comparison to the longbows and small crossbows from the earlier centuries. I had gloves out on display on the top of the shelves that were there, clear doors that showed the arrows stored inside. They were under lock and key that I only had with me.

The third wall had a few maps, one from a hundred years ago and one from today. I had pushpins in both maps, bright red ones that were scattered around the countries and around the world with pictures that were plastered along the sides. There were filing cabinets, also locked tight, filled with files that were on me that I stole when I was done with a particular mission or battle.

I had an old rug right in the middle of the concrete floor, florescent ceiling lights all along the ceiling, and a laptop tucked away at a smaller desk. Of course, like everywhere in my house, there were ancient objects and rare pieces that I either stole or was gifted it, thinking they were far too valuable in being up on the surface in the house itself.

I looked over at the others, seeing them drink this whole room in and saying nothing at first. It was like I was showing them the house all over again, big eyes and silent lips. But I was mostly looking at Andy, seeing the wheels once again turning in her head as I cleared my throat to get all of their attention.

Every weapon I ever had is in here," I explained to him calmly and almost with pride, "I figured we're gonna need a good amount of firepower if we're going to go up against some Nazis. Might as well let you guys use this as your disposal,"

Andy had to smile at me as I was giving her permission somewhat to use anything in this room. If I knew one thing about Andy, she was personally drawn to having a weapon not too far away from her. Seeing her in the chat of battle, there was nothing bumped her adrenaline like a good sword or machine guns. She was a woman of good taste.

"Let's get those fuckers," I said to her in a challenging tone.