Clockblocker
"So… What do you think's going on?" Clockblocker asked as he fiddled with a Rubik's cube. He did not bother trying to hide his frustration. His teammates would know whether he tried or not- an unfortunate side effect of spending far too much time with one another.
Aegis finally tore his gaze away from the pile of redundant reports on his desk, his expression one of mild annoyance at being interrupted. "What makes you think anything's going on?"
He scoffed, briefly considering tossing the cube at his chief's head. "I have eyes. Ears too," he replied curtly.
Something had changed within the base, a place he had the displeasure of calling a second home. The shifts were subtle, too minor for most to notice. Paces were a bit quicker. Lips a bit thinner. And the frowns a bit frownier.
People were nervous. That much was obvious, but he didn't know why. They were expected to face gunfire, yet were never trusted with the full picture.
"Don't you think Armsmaster would have told us if something happened?"
"Nope. I think he forgets we exist."
"Touché," Aegis admitted. "Besides tinkering, he's not the most attentive. But he's not that bad. Just… hyper-focused on his job."
"We're part of his job," Clockblocker reminded. Honestly, the current arrangement suited him just fine. Armsmaster stayed out of their lives, and they stayed out of his. But being left out of the loop was pissing him off. It pissed them all off, even if some were too much of a Boy scout to admit it.
"Want to ask? See if Miss Militia and the rest need anything?" Vista piped up by his side, setting aside homework that she had only just been able to start. "If something's wrong, it's our job to help."
Clockblocker scoffed. "Yeah… No. It's late, and there's no way I'm getting off my ass," he firmly denied, refusing to let himself be dragged into any additional responsibilities by an overzealous pipsqueak.
Seriously…
Missy tried way too hard for a 12-year-old. He would have admired her work ethic if it didn't mean that he would be leashed into whatever new toil she found.
Vista slumped, sighing in resignation. "Fine," she muttered, somewhat disappointed by his refusal. For a moment, he was taken aback by her lack of retort; usually, she would have thrown back a barb, calling him lazy or whatever kids considered insults these days.
Either she was too exhausted to even come up with a response, or something had happened back at her home. It worried him as much as he didn't want to admit it.
"Good choice," Clockblocker praised, nodding in approval. "Little girls need their beauty sleep to catch the eyes of a prince or knight named Dean."
Vista flushed, anger rising to the surface as she angrily pitched a textbook with all the strength a highly fit little girl could manage.
He deftly dodged it, having seen it coming a mile away. For a girl trying to be more like an adult, she was way too easy to rile up. But that was fine. Anger suited her better than sulking.
"Tut tut, vandalizing school property? What would Miss Milita think?" He mocked.
"Shut up you fucking clown," Vista glared.
"Aren't you a decade too young for that kind of language?" Clockblocker chuckled, raising a brow.
"If I'm old enough to get shot at, I'm old enough to say whatever I want."
"Dark. But not untrue," he admitted with a shrug. But despite his portrayed nonchalance, he was surprised by the vitriol in her voice.
He knew her home situation was bad even though she tried to hide it. But it seemed like things had taken a worse turn for her temper to flare so hotly.
That, or puberty.
In the end, he backed off from teasing her further. He had only wanted to distract her, not create another source of problems in her life.
Suddenly, the door alarms flared, lights flickering on and off in a way impossible to ignore. Without hesitation, he reflexively reached for his mask before pulling it over his head. Vista and Aegis followed suit, although a step slower.
"A little late for visitors, don't you think?" Clockblocker asked as he stood. This alarm was a warning sign, indicating that someone unauthorized to know their secret identities was on the other side of the door. It wasn't something that happened often. Other than the Protectorate and the heads of the PRT, no one was even allowed near their space of heaven. Usually, the only ones who would invite themselves over like this without warning was-
"Oh no… It's Youth Guard, isn't it?" Vista groaned. "I'm so busted."
He grimaced. That would be pretty annoying. He was certain that Vista's working hours far exceeded what was normally allowed. If she got caught, they would all be in for an interrogation for weeks.
But he supposed that it might have been for the best. No 12-year-old should be working till morning. Didn't creatures of her kind play with Barbies at that age?
"We'll find out soon enough," Aegis sighed. "Man, of all the days Gallant isn't here…"
Clockblocker nodded in agreement. Say what you like about Dean, but the dude was smooth as a baby's butt. If there was anyone who could talk them out of trouble, it was him.
Aegis turned off the alarm, signifying to their guests that masks were on.
The door opened. Two figures entered.
Clockblocker readied a smirk, a quip already forming at his lips. The shitty joke he had in mind was in poor taste- more offensive than funny. But it would distract their attention from Vista. She already had enough on her plate as is.
But the words died as his lips and tongue were rendered motionless. He could only gape, his eyes widening, fixated on the girl before him.
His dad had always said that clothes made the man. But for her, the opposite seemed true.
Strangely enough, the first thing he noticed was the armor. He had no idea how to judge quality, but he was certain that the craftsmanship was masterful. It was finely made, but as far as compliments go, that was all he could give.
Other than the engraving on the chest plate, there was not a single decoration. It had no beauty, flourish or even a sparkle of color. It was an ugly thing, purely utilitarian. Forged and dedicated for the sole purpose of combat. No PR officer worth his salt would ever allow any hero of the Protectorate to wear something so… brutally functional.
But on her?
She made it work.
No hunk of metal should shine like gold. No fabric that plain should ever look so regal. But it did. When worn by her. Like a puzzle, the emerald-eyed, blonde girl was the final piece that created a perfect whole.
With a gentle smile, her voice resonated like delicate chimes. The sound was soft and pleasant, yet it seemed to bear the weight of a world. "I am Artoria," she introduced herself, exuding an air of grace and nobility. "It brings me immense joy and privilege to be among yours."
Silence enveloped the room, stretching out into an eternal moment. He attempted to speak, throw out his usual repertoire of jokes. But like a man nearing his 80s, he found himself impotent, utterly dry of the well-spring of humor he was blessed with since birth.
As the seconds ticked by, her smile began to fall, replaced by a flicker of concern etching its way across her face. Panic surged into his heart, desperately urging him to say something, anything. But even the furrowed lines on her forehead failed to diminish what was art. No… On her, even ugliness was an ornament, a decoration that only enhanced beauty.
"Hi!" Vista exclaimed, bouncing back the fastest from the stunned silence. Her smile stretched from ear to ear as she eagerly returned the greeting. "I'm Vista. Are you a new Ward?"
Clockblocker glanced at his shorter companion, taking in her genuine excitement and happiness at the prospect of welcoming another teammate. But underneath her cheerfulness, he noticed a tinge of envy in her gaze- a look he had learned to recognize even through a vizor with how often he had seen it when she looked at Victoria.
"Yes," Artoria replied, lips rekindled with a smile. "It certainly appears that way."
"Awesome!" She exclaimed, removing her visor and extending her hand. "I'm Missy."
Normally, he would have frowned at the reveal. But hey, if the other side trusted them enough to show off their secret identity, it would be only fair to reciprocate.
"Well met," Artoria responded, firmly shaking the offered limb.
"Clockblocker," he declared, removing his helmet and introducing himself with an unexpected seriousness that surprised even him. "My real name's Dennis." He was tempted to crack a joke. Maybe even Clockblock her with his power during a handshake. But it didn't feel right. Not with her.
Aegis followed suit.
"Well, here are the munchkins. Even though a few are missing."
Clockblocker blinked in surprise as he turned his head towards the voice, only now noticing Assault. The Protectorate Hero was tall, easily towering over most but lean in a way an athlete built his body. He was a man that would be noticed in a crowd even out of costume. But when placed next to Artoria, he might as well have been part of the furniture.
"It's really nice to finally have another girl on the team! I've been stuck being the only one way too long," Vista chimed in.
Clockblocker couldn't help but snort having recovered from the initial shock. "Don't let double S hear you."
"She doesn't count," the midget growled.
Doesn't count as a girl or as part of the team?
"Anyways, we're all thrilled to have you here," Aegis interjected before a squabble could erupt. "If you don't mind sharing, what are your powers? Judging by the armor, I'd say Brute? We could always use another heavy hitter on the front lines."
Artoria paused for a moment, her silence hanging in the air. Her brows furrowed into one of confusion before finally responding, "I will not disappoint," she answered, answering nothing.
"For once, I can agree with you lot," a grating voice echoed from the hallway.
"Stalker?" Assault frowned disapprovingly as the aforementioned girl strode past with a confidence that almost made Clockblocker jealous. "What are you doing here"
"Why does a doctor go to a hospital? A teacher to a school? Why the fuck do you think I'm here?" Shadow Stalker mocked in the voice that he had grown to dislike.
"You've reached your quota; you're not supposed to –."
"Are you seriously going to quote the Youth Guard when the city's on fucking fire?" Shadow Stalker interrupted, amusement and disbelief coloring her tone.
What?!
"What the hell?" Clockblocker snarled before glaring at Assault accusingly. "Why the fuck didn't you tell us?"
"The city's on fire?!" Vista exclaimed, her visage morphing to one of horror.
"Oh… no. Only the shoreline," Artoria sheepishly clarified, looking embarrassed.
Shadow Stalker smirked beneath her mask. The change was subtle, but the slight shifting in the wrinkles of the fabric told him that the queen bitch thought something was hilarious. "You would know all about that, wouldn't you?" She chuckled.
"She would," Assault agreed. "But how do you? Don't tell me you've been sneaking out again."
"Oh, get off my ass. The lightshow was impossible to miss. Half the city could have seen it if they looked out their damn window. You can't expect me to do nothing when the fight was so close to my neighborhood."
"… Fair enough," Assault reluctantly admitted.
"What's going on?" Aegis interjected, his frustration mounting alongside his and Vista's. Being left out sucked. Being ignored even more so.
Shadow Stalker sneered with disdain. "You haven't told them?" She asked, turning to Assault.
"Everyone would have been informed tomorrow. Right now, the situation is under control,"
"Yeah, because blonde, short, and gallant here took care of it. The pipsqueak got something right for once. It is nice to have another girl on the team," Shadow Stalker all but purred.
Okay. Whatever Artoria did, Clockblocker had to know. There was no way Sophia would be so nice if she wasn't thoroughly impressed.
"As I am pleased to be here. I am Artoria," she greeted with warmth.
"I know. I heard," Shadow Stalker said with a smile.
"Eavesdropping? Should I be worried? Maybe the Stalker in your name stands for something else," Clockblocker mocked.
"Fuck you asshole," Stalker sneered. "Maybe if you weren't such a little bitch, I would –."
"I believe that is far enough," Artoria intervened, silencing the room as easily as he would turn off a TV. To his surprise, Stalker listened without retort. "It is a pleasure to meet you Stalker, but it seems further discussion won't be fruitful.
"Never is," Stalker replied with a shrug. "But I think you'll be different. I'm Sophia," Stalker revealed, removing her mask to show an ebony-skinned young woman with her hair tied back in a ponytail. Her features were harsh, but at this moment, she was grinning. "Anyways, I'm going to hit the gym. I guess I'll see you at Winslow, Artoria."
"Winslow? Is she a transfer? Shouldn't she be going to Arcadia then?" Clockblocker asked. With armor like that, there was no way she was new, and Artoria was far too confident to be a recent trigger. That meant she was from out of the city.
"Use your brains for once Clockhead. If there's a new ward and a new transfer at the same time, anyone with two brain cells will make the connection. Everyone knows that the wards go to Arcadia. Going to Winslow is way safer," Sophia retorted with her usual acerbic self.
Damn.
Although he was reluctant to admit it, he knew she was right. It was just… well… disappointing. He would be a liar if he said that he wasn't anticipating spending time with his new teammate. Purely for team-building purposes of course.
"Anyways, I think that's enough of an introduction. We still have a mountain of shit to get through. Go turn up and get some sleep you brats," Assault ordered before turning to leave. Artoria followed.
Clockblocker's gaze lingered on her retreating form until she was no longer in sight.
"You heard the man," Vista smirked, relishing in a bit of schadenfreude. "Little boys need their beauty sleep to catch the eyes of a princess or knight named Artoria."
"Oh, fuck you, Missy!
Artoria
"So… What do you think? About your teammates?" Assault asked.
"They seem-." Young. Too young. "Competent," Saber cautiously voiced her approval, careful not to reveal her initial disappointment. "But I had thought the Protectorate occupied? Dealing with the aftermath," she commented. She would have preferred to join them. But Director Piggot had insisted such action was unnecessary. It had shamed her that a conflict that ignited by her hand would be ended by another's, but she had pledged her blade and contesting every decision was a poor way to begin a relationship.
"Hm? The Protectorate, yes. But our juniors are in reserve right now. Like you, they'll be joining us once they get more experience."
Saber slowly nodded in acknowledgment. But deep within, a flicker of discontent had ignited upon learning that she would be assigned to a junior team, confining her to a position akin to that of a squire. Yet, she did not voice her complaint, understanding the necessity to prove oneself deserving of trust and responsibility. Talent, while remarkable, required validation.
It was merely a momentary setback. There was nothing but certainty within her mind that it would take only a single moon before she was elevated into the Protectorate.
Her greatest disappointment, however, was the Wards themselves. She had entered the confines of the Wards headquarters, anticipating a gathering of aspiring warriors honing their skills. To her surprise, what materialized before her were not men battle-hardened men, but rather a tapestry of youthful figures, each navigating the delicate threshold of adolescence.
Their movements betrayed glimpses of experience and training, yet their countenances, even when veiled from sight, unveiled their tender youth. By the contemporary standards of society, they teetered on the cusp of adulthood, while in her own realm, they would have long been considered grown. Still, a palpable air of innocence clung to their beings.
Sending green boys to battle was nothing new. Her enemies had done the same. She had done the same. It would have been hypocritical for her to criticize the practice. But she had always sought to avoid such circumstances, laboring to grant her people precious moments of respite before the hands of destiny reaped their lives. No one should be forced to bear the burden she had once carried so young.
Nevertheless, it would be shameful for her to treat her new allies as anything less than an equal. Age, after all, was but a paltry measure of courage and nobility. Those who elected to devote their lives in selfless service to their people deserved every bit of her respect, regardless of their inexperience.
"They're all good kids. Even Stalker, though it might not seem like that at first. Give it some time; they'll grow onto you like a fungus," Assault said with a smile.
"How fortunate…"
Unfortunately, the Wards did not seem to approve of her sudden presence. The one named Clockblocker had seemed especially upset, staring at her and analyzing every bit of her form in order to ascertain if she was a threat. She did not mind his suspicion. In fact, she approved of it. Trust was a sacred vow that had to be earned, not freely given.
"Still… Can't believe you're a little girl," Assault muttered, as he briskly walked through the hall.
Anger flashed across Saber's eyes, the unintended barb cutting deep into her core. "Would you care to taste a little girl's blade?" She growled, just enough to educate the man of her ire.
It was not his intention to insult her. She knew. But the words stung nonetheless, searing her pride and dignity.
But compared to the humiliation she had so foolishly gifted herself earlier on, it was but a drop to the sea.
"I didn't mean it like that," Assault hastily interjected, his hands rising in a gesture of surrender. "Vista would kill to act and sound the way you do. It's just-. You just seemed… Older."
"That is because I am," Saber intoned. Any other would have been pleased, having been praised. But to call a lion a lion or a crone old was no accolade, but a definition of what they were. She seemed older because she was.
He snorted, his smirk betraying his amusement. "By what? One year? Two?"
"That's not-," she started, before halting her speech. It was obvious they had mistaken her age. But she made no move to correct them. Whether they thought her old or young did not matter. Her duty did not change. On the other hand, revealing her age would open a line of questioning, she would rather avoid.
"Not what?"
"No… It is nothing."
Saber lowered her gaze as if to shade her hesitance. She had joined the Protectorate out of a sense of duty, indebted to the Director and compelled to lend her aid in the face of impending turmoil. Yet, a deep-rooted mistrust lingered within her, rendering her conduct bordering dishonor. But the thought of unveiling the true nature of her body filled her with trepidation, an apprehension she could not easily dismiss.
Immortality, the elusive dream pursued by many, had been her salvation and burden. From the moment she drew the Sword from Stone, she had been bestowed with an irrevocable gift and curse. Though the sword had been shattered, having been tainted by her sins, she herself remained ever-present, eternally bound to its successors.
The sacred sheathe had been lost, but the holy sword remained, a testament to her everlasting existence. She was not a true immortal, but the regenerative power of Excalibur had granted her an unnaturally extended lifespan.
Through the vessel of the Holy Grail, she had learned numerous tales of countless heroes, both great and small, who had succumbed to the seductive allure of eternal life irrespective of their moral alignment. Brothers had turned against brothers. Kings had forsaken their people. Sworn allies had plunged their blades into each other's hearts, forever staining their legacies. What was to say that the heroes of the Protectorate would not succumb to the same tragic fate?
If they were to learn of her longevity… If they discovered the secrets of her holy blade…
She did not fear conflict, nor would she shy away from what was necessary. But she had no wish to stain her hands in their blood.
Assault's gaze softened as he peered down in contemplation. "Well, if you ever feel the need to talk. About anything really. I'm all yours."
Saber blinked in surprise. She had an uncanny feeling that her guide had developed a misunderstanding. "I appreciate the offer, but-."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. But every hero has baggage. Villains too. They wouldn't have powers otherwise. I'm probably not the best person to have that kind of talk, but I would be a piss-poor adult if I didn't at least offer support to youngsters. Just know that you have my ear. If you ever need it."
I'm older than you.
But she made no rebuke, offering no challenge on the front. Instead, she absorbed his concern and offered a nod of acknowledgment.
She doubted she would ever require his assistance in such a manner. But she was grateful nonetheless. Touched even. To be treated as a human, to have someone care for her well-being, however needless it may have been, was a sentiment she believed she would never experience again when she became King.
Then she met Shirou.
But he was gone, and she navigated a world as alien to her as servants were to humans. Yet, she found acceptance. Not as a legendary King or a tool to be used, but as Artoria. Son of Ector. Brother to Kay. She was not the Pendragon of Camelot, but a person with her own history and struggles, defined not by her name or title, but as an individual with her own hopes and vulnerabilities. The sensation was… pleasant.
For the first time since arriving in this foreign realm, a genuine smile graced Saber's lip. "Thank you," she expressed sincerely, her voice filled with a newfound warmth.
"Hmm? Oh, no probs," Assault enthusiastically grinned, unfazed and unnoticing the gravity of the situation. "Anyways, I'm glad that everything turned out well. I'm still scratching my head on the details, but Piggot seemed pretty happy- which is disturbing, and you're still here. So I'll take that as a win."
Saber's cheeks flushed red with embarrassment at the mention of the woman. She silently thanked Assault for insisting that she wear her helm. It shielded her face, concealing the remnants of her torn dignity from further scrutiny.
"Yes, it was fortunate that Director Piggot displayed some measure of reason," Saber replied, her voice laced with a tinge of relief. If she had been in the Director's position, she would have been far less forgiving toward the pitiful display she had performed. Even now, the memory made her cringe. It was a stroke of luck that the Director had shown greater mercy and understanding than she had expected.
So much so that it was suspicious.
The Director had not seemed like a generous individual. Instead, she had seemed just the opposite.
Assault tilted his head curiously, casting a strange glance in Saber's direction. "Reasonable?" He questioned, his tone tinged with skepticism. "Sure, let's go with that."
Saber frowned. "What do you mean?" She pressed.
"Saber… I think even the most unreasonable people will become reasonable when you're in front of them."
She bristled, offended at the implication, but did not press the subject. It was true that before a foe that could not be beaten, most became meek. She prayed that her newfound allies were made of better steel.
"Assault, may I ask a question?" She said instead, changing the subject.
"Hmm? Yeah sure? Ask a thousand if you want."
"One is enough. What is with the rules on masks?" To wear a helmet among allies when not in battle signified a lack of trust. But Assault had been strangely insistent that she wear hers. From what she had seen so far, every martial operative, whether they were soldiers or heroes, wore some form of facial covering with different degrees of practicality. She was curious whether it was a cultural tradition or a design based on practicality.
"Everyone in the building signed their NDAs. Appreciate the trust, but it's always better to be safe than sorry," Assault shrugged.
"I see…" She did not see. In fact, he answered nothing. Perhaps she would have to take up his offer on the thousand questions.
Abruptly, their journey came to a halt. "We've arrived," Assault solemnly announced, standing before the door to a room equipped to be an administrative office. "Within this room is the bane of every hero."
Saber narrowed her eyes, intrigue flashing across the green pupils. Was she to be challenged? Tested against a foe to see if she was worthy?
She had imagined that besting the Wyrm in single combat was enough of an accolade to dismiss any further trials. But it seemed that she was wrong. Nevertheless, it didn't matter. No matter the challenge, she would cut them down all the same. "And what adversary stands before us?" She asked.
"Paperwork," Assault fearfully muttered.
2 hours later
"You have got to be kidding me," Assault bemoaned as he lamented. "What the hell are you?"
"I am Artoria Pendragon." she replied, unfazed by his exasperation and refusing to dignify him with a glance. Her eyes were dedicated only to the intricate script before her, scrutinizing each sentence and word to ascertain that nothing was unclear.
As a monarch, diligence was not a mere choice but an imperative. Countless times, treacherous individuals had sought to insidiously insert their own clandestine agendas amidst the fine print, necessitating her meticulous reading and critical analysis of every written clause before signing any parchment for approval.
The wearied Protectorate hero let out a heavy sigh, allowing his forehead to sink into the supportive embrace of his upraised arms. "Yeah… I got so many questions about that name. But anyways, you're handling this pretty well. Too well. No kid your age should be this… thorough."
A faint smile graced her lips. "Experience has taught me well," she explained as she crossed out and edited yet another line within the manuscript. Most of the contents were redundant. But often, the language and diction used were questionable and far too broad for her liking. Those, she marked so that the PRT could rewrite for clarification. Some agreements, she would have to renegotiate. The pay, for one, was nowhere near sufficient to satisfy her dietary needs.
Other than that, she found several strange obligations she would be expected to be committed to, but thankfully, she detected nothing heinous. Thus far.
"Ever thought about being a lawyer?" Assault asked with a grunt. "You'll probably win every case."
Artoria paused. She had yet to consider her future, having been dragged around from one crisis to another. As of now, her goals were set. But what would come after? Once the bandits were defeated? She had no grand design, no plan for her life. Thus, the thought of a future career was a curious one, and the prospect of interpreting and defending the law did appeal to her. Far more than any martial task.
Her hesitation did not escape her guide's sight. "Ho? Interested? The PRT pays for education you know. If you want to do it, you should give it a shot."
"… I shall give it some thought. But for now, there are other pressing concerns," Artoria dismissed.
"Yeah. All this paperwork is fucking killing me."
"I was referring to the upcoming gang war."
"That too," Assault said with a shrug. "But seriously, what the hell are you? No kid- no, scratch that. No proper human would ever do what you're doing," Assault complained as he sorrowfully glanced at the pile of documents that was still without her signature. "You're not secretly a sociopath are you?"
Saber glared at the man, refusing to even deign the question a response as her brows furrowed in mild consternation. Did he truly expect her to blindly affix her name to a parchment without comprehending the terms and conditions? What kind of reckless individual would sign away their consent without a clear understanding of what they agreed to?
"If you are weary, you are free to depart," she offered, her concern genuine.
The hour had grown late, and the weight of exhaustion was unmistakable upon his visage. At this point, it was only his sense of duty that propelled him forward.
"No… Can't do that. Until you sign everything, you can't be alone without a Protectorate member to accompany you."
"In that case, shall we resume our task tomorrow?" Artoria proposed.
A flicker of relief washed over his fatigued features, "You know what? I think I'll like that. But first, I need you to sign this. "With a deft motion, he rummaged through the remaining stack, handpicking a single sheet of paper before extending it towards her.
"What is this?"
"An authorization form. Winslow requires it to get your records from your previous school. We need this done asap so we can start the transfer process."
Artoria froze.
School? As in the institution that Shirou attended? She couldn't deny her interest, having visited on several occasions and finding it intriguing. Artoria was aware that all minors would be required to attend. If she did not divulge her immortality, so would she. However, she couldn't help but question the suitability of such an environment for someone like her. Despite her youthful appearance, she was far older than most who would attend.
Just as she was about to voice her objection, she paused.
Bedivere, her loyal knight.
Shirou, her dear companion.
Both had wished for her a life other than as King. An ordinary life, one she could love.
This opportunity seemed to align with their desires. The more she contemplated, the more it appealed to her. She was no longer bound by the responsibilities of a king, and while she remained a knight at heart, she yearned for the chance to embrace a different existence. It was an opportunity—a chance she never dared to dream of.
To live, not as a regal ruler or even as a knight, but as a human being. To embrace the life she had once so stubbornly denied.
The notion of deceit pricked at her sense of honor, but she couldn't dismiss the longing within her. Could she truly allow this chance to slip away? The answer became clear. No… she couldn't. The weight of regret would burden her for years to come if she declined.
Her life as a human ended when she was 15. Perhaps it was fitting, poetic even, that she began anew at that same age.
"Understood, I shall complete this with haste," she replied with a pleased smile, her decision made. She proceeded to read through the single sheet of paper. However, as she delved into the task, a wave of worry washed over her, drowning her sense of joy as she was reminded of her circumstances as an outsider in this modern world.
Enrolling in a school would necessitate her records. Records she did not-
"Great! We've already found your last school and current home address. Once you give us permission, we can get our guys to expedite the transfer!"
