Robert didn't say anything when Aryana and Vivan left his apartment unit with their backpacks at hand. They said they were going to rob a jewelry store, but he guessed that they weren't coming back. Somewhere along the line Robert stopped trying to figure out the reasoning of them both. Vivan went out of his way to enjoy himself, and Aryana did the same in a seemingly identical manner. The why's had became irrelevant over time. And although they both always changed their stories as to how and why they came to Brockton Bay, Robert guessed there was more baggage there that they were trying to make light of.

Vivan, in particular, reminded him of himself back when he was in the Wards. Like he was stuck but didn't want anyone to know. Constantly wanting to leave, yet hiding that fact through absurd happiness to pretend everything was alright.

Aryana was the complete opposite of that most, she seemed stupid. To Robert, he noticed the constant shifts in moods and personality in her, reminiscent of himself when he was trying to understand himself a few years earlier.

Leaving the Wards was like leaving a prison, there was a steep need to learn how to cope with freedom and happiness. Aryana was like that, trying to compensate for a loss of childhood through exaggerated immaturity.

A long time ago Robert promised not to obligate people into situations they didn't want. Although he would miss them, he wasn't going to force them into staying.

XXX

Present

"That's bad for you," Vivan said. "You're gonna get fat."

Aryana mowed down at her third cheeseburger at mcdonalds. "It's my god-given right to be fat. I'm not letting you stop me."

Vivan had ordered the chicken nuggets. He hated fast food. "Fatty, mc fatty, fatty fat, fatso, fat, fat… Want a milkshake with that fatso?"

"Yes!" Aryana took Vivan's milkshake, and drank half of it.

"Oiy, that was mine! It's like the only good thing they have on the menu."

"You can't control me, you lil biiitch!"

"Every time you call me little bitch, I get more offended you're calling me little…"

"Your insecurities are wonderful to pick at."

The mcdonald's they sat in was about to close. They decided to get something cheap to eat before taking the long trip out of town. Aryana had once explained that getting a hit from Accord was like getting a kill order. The best way to survive, was to cut all ties from people around you. Vivan asked, "so you think Leet and Uber will be okay?"

Aryana nodded, " Yeah, they'll be fine. More likely than anything, Accord might freeze their assets for a day, and then bribe them to tell him where we are. Since they won't know where we are, Accord will give up that up and then compensate them for whatever problems he gives them."

"Sure is good of him. It must be nice throwing money at problems until they go away." Vivan smiled. This was the advantage they had over Accord. He didn't leave a path of destruction in his wake, he liked keeping things as orderly and procedurally as possible. It made him incredibly predictable.

"Indeed," Aryana chuckled, "we should have done that with Leet. Make him build a money canon to shoot at our enemies."

"I'd have used that to shoot poor people."

"Shooting poor people, every rich man's dream." Aryana finished the rest of his smoothie. "You could have stayed if you wanted to, I know you liked it here."

"It wouldn't have been fun without you." He didn't' want to admit it, but he was going to miss Brockton Bay.

"You could join the Wards you know, Accord doesn't touch Protectorate members."

"You always push that Wards thing on me, but I haven't wanted to join them since I was twelve." He stopped wanting to be a hero when he found out Aryana was a villain.

"Still," Aryana repeated a phrase he was getting used to, "I still wish you didn't follow me around."

XXX

One Day before her Eighteenth Birthday

Aryana's eyes fell low. Dormant emotions she'd suppressed for years was finally swelling up. Her eyes passed Vivan in a morbid gaze at the sight of his demonstration. The scarecrow Vivan had set up was set aflame. He had skipped school and invited Aryana to visit just so he could show her his new display of power. "See?" Vivan said breathing heavily. "I have powers too. I get… Tired when I use too much energy, but at least I can blow up stuff."

Vivan was happy. This was what he wanted. Power to be something more, power to be closer to the person he cared about. He asked, "can you get me an interview with Accord? It would be awesome if we could work together."

Aryana shook her head slowly, "no." Her voice was a stale. The shaking of her head looked like trembling. "Never. I'm not letting you end up like me."

XXX

Her Eighteenth Birthday

She sat across the dining table from Accord. It was a special occasion. Not only were they celebrating her eighteenth birthday, but they were also celebrating her fourth year of service to him. For Accord, he saw it as a celebration to her loyalty, to Aryana, it was a celebration to her liberation. In a way, he'd given her freedom from the destiny she didn't choose.

Aryana's dress was a delicate white. It was mirror-like in design, with flower patterns running across the bottom half of the dress. Her mask was hex polygon textured over the top half of her face, with origami styled bunny ears extruding from the top half of her head. Accord had designed it. He made it to be perfect, just as he envisioned her.

Accord, much shorter than Aryana wearing his cashmere lint-free suit, raised a wine glass into the air. "A toast," he said serenely, "to your eighteenth birthday."

Aryana mirrored his movements in a delicate like manner. She knew exactly how to move. Eloquently, like a perfect woman that could flatter any guest. They knew each other perfectly now. And although he'd never said it aloud, he could have considered Aryana as something liken to a daughter. She was his favorite.

To him, she was testament. Proof that he could beat even the unbeatable endbringer. He turned the teenage girl from someone who was lost and destined for terrorism, into a pure machine, living only to serve for his organized syndicate.

It was success to him. Aryana would never become something she shouldn't. Aryana took a moderate sip from her flask, to which Accord smiled. "If you'll excuse me." Aryana nodded in a sentimental courtesy, knowing that manners were everything to him. Accord stepped up from the long table and headed to his bedroom upstairs. He picked up Aryana's gift.

It was a small box. Gift wrapped by his own two hands. Inside there was something special, something he was glad to give to Aryana. Like a father, giving his daughter a rite of passage.

Before returning to the dining room table, he stepped into the restroom to wash up before presenting the gift. He twitched at the sight of it, and returned to Aryana. He walked over to her and leaned in close to her side. He asked her in a low tone, "Aryana… Why was the toilet seat up?"

Aryana rotated her head slowly towards him. She grinned. An assured death sentence, which was something she secretly yearned for. In an identical low tone Aryana answered, "how else am I supposed to mark my territory?"

Accord grabbed his and smashed it across her head. She immediately fell back across the floor. A piece of her mask was cracked away, making it look like a cracked egg. All she could do was shield her face as Accord began hitting her repeatedly in erratic motions. As he bashed his cane continuously, he noticed an unusual moaning sound coming from her…

"Oh yes," Aryana yelled smiling, "it hurts so good! Hit me harder!"

Accord paled. The sexual implication was obvious. She was glad he hated it. "Aryana," Accord took a step back, "what…Happened?"

Aryana stood up, she tilted her head with a crooked smile to laugh. "It's my birthday you five foot white collared bitch. I do what I fucking want!" She cracked off the bunny ear from her mask, turning it into something unsymmetrical. A large part of her wanted to kill him, but how could anyone bring them self to kill a person that could potentially end world hunger?

That's what the Simurgh would have wanted, and she was done doing what others wanted.

"You cretin," Accord screamed. He clicked a button on his cane revealing a dagger at its edge. Before he could swing it to pierce into her skin… She threw a pocket full of glitter in his face.

Accord froze in place. His hyper aware senses caused the glitter to mortifying him. "Glitter.. Never… Comes off..." Some of it fell in my mouth.

Aryana floated away from Accord. The high ceilings of his building were meant to be aesthetic. Currently, it provided Aryana enough room to fly around in a comedic fashion. "God made glitter for love," she lifted her dress up, revealing trousers with pockets underneath. "So allow me to show you my love liquids... Glad I'm not jailbait anymore." She stuck her tongue out at his direction, and floated upside down onto the ceiling.

She proceeded to take exaggerated steps across his home, pulling out pockets full of glitter as she tossed it across his home's floors. Accord's oversensitive keenness caused him to tremble at the sight of the scattering crafts. OCD horror filled him as his face grew red with anger.

He was going to kill her. He lost all attachment for her in an instance. He'd underestimated the Simurgh, there was no fix for it. He'd contact the Yangban to kill Cody, make it his personal mission to kill Simurgh tainted to make up for this mistake. But with Aryana, he'd torture her. Simurgh tainted or not, she had no right to humiliate him the way she was doing.

Aryana floated upside down and pretended to walk on the ceiling. "Oh my, what does this button do?" She knew every contraption in Accord's house. She'd visited him so many times, and had been trusted to know everything. The intricacies of Accord's mind was second nature to her, and she was abusing that knowledge maliciously.

She pulled secret levers, trap doors, rotating cavaliers and all sorts of trap doors he'd designs for his enemies, unleashed for the sake angering Accord. She dismantled a few, and tossed glitter in others.

Accord could already envision the perfect torture machine for her.

Aryana levitated a jar of mustard from the kitchen. She mixed it with ketchup. "Aye, matsa watsa salami?" She said, stereotyping an italian movie. "And thanks for the dress Accord, how long did it take you to make? I'm guessing several hours since your hands are so small."

Still standing on the ceiling, she poured the mixed ketchup atop of her head. She used her powers to let it drop upwards, and spread it across the ceiling around her feet. "Now, you won't be able to tell when I'm bleeding, hewhewhewhew."

The laugh was obnoxious. It was so fake he wanted to strangle her for it. Then she said, "I bet you wish you had your brown pants…"

Accord screamed at the top of his lungs, he went to the nearest doorway opening and picked up shotguns he always had ready. When he pointed it at her, she wagged her fingers in a way that matched her wagging hips. "Nookie dookie," the gun was quickly flown out of his hands, "you really shouldn't have taught me how to use my powers so good."

"That is grammatically incorrect!" Accord screamed. "Aryana, why are you doing this? What went wrong with you?"

Aryana floated closer to match him at an eye level. Aryana's mouth was flat. She was absolved of the emotion she had a few seconds ago, and spoke in a methodical voice. "You lied to me."

"About what?"

Instead of answering, she spun around to turn his back at him. The spin caused the dress's ketchup to splatter all over Accord's face. She fled off at high speeds.

XXX

One hour before her last dinner with Accord

Aryana stared at the mirror for a long time. Her hair was tied back. It braided around her head in the form of a crown. Not a strand of raven colored hair was out of place, she'd long learned how to make it as orderly as possible. All in accordance to what was defined as perfection.

She spun around to gain a visual of the uniquely designed dress. The mask was something she used to like. It made her look innocent. Four years ago it had fitted her perfectly, now it was more of an oxymoron from what she turned into. Four years ago, she didn't know what she'd gotten herself into.

"Aryana," Accord told her. "There is a necessity for order in this world. When chaos breeds, order exists to quench that chaos. It's how the world survives, strives, and succeeds. The Simurgh, by its very nature, exists to inflict chaos unto humanity.

You are destined to do terrible things. Your decisions will be like tiny explosions, unraveling this world into ways it shouldn't be. Every choice you make will have overreaching consequences that will damage everyone. All because of the circumstances that were outside of your control.

But there is a way to avoid the Simurgh's power. You have to stop making your own decisions. Forfeit your individuality and exist for anything other than yourself. In that way, the Simurgh no longer has control over you. Let your decisions fall onto someone else, someone who exists for order and peace, so that your freedom may never hurt anyone. We can give you liberation from the destiny you didn't want, as long as you're willing to choose to give up all your decision making to me."

He'd given her an ironic hope. She knew what the loyalty entailed, and she sold herself to escape what she didn't choose.

There was one thing she didn't expect; the apathy. Accord's obsession for control forced her to become indifferent to the crimes she'd committed. She committed the most cruel murders for the most mundane offenses. Her mind, like a defense mechanism, learned to stop sympathizing for the people around her.

Was that a good thing? Wasn't it a necessity to grow colder, in order to avoid soul crushing remorse on a day-to-day basis? What was that numb insanity called? Was it worse than the kind of insanity that involved loathing oneself into the brink of suicide? Emptiness verses pain. Lack of feeling verses feeling too much.

But she wished she could feel again. She wanted to pretend she still had the colorful emotions from when she was a kid. Accord made her forget what that was like, but she was now desperate to try and play the intrigued character of a curious child again.

She looked into her bedroom mirror again. It was a small apartment flat. There were no decorations because she wasn't creative enough to add anything worthwhile. The minimalistic setting, she realized, was Accord's belief, not hers. She couldn't remember what she used to love. She couldn't even remember what she loved about herself.

"Eighteen came too soon."

Water marks formed at the edges of her eyes. It wasn't because she was sad, it was because she was hollow. The awareness of it was finally settling. She'd detached herself from so much, but she didn't want to become as cold as Accord. She'd made a decision, she was going to anchor herself onto someone else. Wiping away the tears with a heavy swallow, she said to the mirror, "Accord... Which one of us is the crazy one?"