Hope it Gives You Hell, Josh & Spotty

[Spotty]

For as long as she could remember, the only thing she had ever wanted was to travel the world. She hadn't dreamed of love, nor a family, never had she craved anything as much as she desired seeing ancient ruins in South America, the coliseum in Rome, maybe to see the Vatican. She wanted to tour Europe, maybe venture a safari in Africa.

And so, straight out of high school, she had applied with United Airlines, to be...a flight attendant. While she was nowhere close to vain, she knew that her fair looks had assisted in her acceptance for the position, along with her height -- five foot seven inches -- and, it was a well known fact that those of easy appearances were much better suited to service occupations. It might have been degrading, to know that she was only offered a job from her dark eyes and tan skin, dark hair, and...trim body, but...she didn't care. Anything to see the world.

Several years into the position, she'd seen anything but the world.
There were the six hour breaks between flights, where she would collapse in a hotel room near the airport, to sleep the spare precious moments in a real bed. On occasion, snow and fog would delay flights...but she spent those moments claiming a bit of space in a break room, attempting to gain more sleep. The female had been to more countries than she could remember, than she cared to remember. She'd met countless individuals from various countries, that spoke multiple languages. But, for being twenty-four, she was no more cultured, no more experienced in travel, than when she had left her home in the States at nineteen.

The airline had...gently requested that she relocate to Conex. At first, she hadn't been exactly..inclined to the move, but...it's not as though she had anything to keep her in the small town and being closer to an airport was considerably more convenient. The handful of days that she stayed in her apartment were solely to...rest, to do blissful nothing. Aside from paying her landlord, she wasn't particularly familiar with anyone from Conex; not the people in her complex, nor the handful of public establishments she frequented -- clothing stores, restaurants, grocery.

Flight 417 from Conex to Washington DC, now boarding.

Rebekah pressed a hand to her forehead, gently massaging one of her temples.
This was a short break; her next flight left in thirty-six hours.
One of the other stewardesses, a younger girl, her mother had fallen ill or something, and she had caught a flight home, while she had volunteered to take her shift.

The headaches had been a recent affliction, something she couldn't risk side effects of migraine prescriptions. As her gaze had been lowered, she'd the misfortune of wandering into the wrong restroom. Wandering into a stall, she had been startled at the sound of...at least three male voices, rushed and hurried, the topic of conversation...a rigged horse race?

"Shut the fuck up."
"Alright, alright. This is great news, are you listening?"
"We've been waiting all week, what is it?"
"It's rigged! The race, it's been fucking rigged, but you can't tell anyone. Especially you, asshole."

Rebekah could hardly breathe. Aside from her initial shock of wandering into the wrong restroom, the words of the...men. This was her ticket out of this monotony. Wait, what?! She couldn't even believe her thoughts, they...almost felt as though they were foreign, as though they belonged to someone else. It wasn't as if she could move, being found here...it...it was indecent for one, for another...these individuals, just judging by their voices and the glimpses she spied of them from the cracks of the stall, they...wouldn't react in a positive manner should they find her. Pulling her legs closer to her chest, she remained silent.

"The odds are eight to one! Eight to one!"
"Are we heading to the underground then?"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"But the name! What's the name of the race horse?"

The voices were growing quiet as the men moved to leave the facilities, though not any less snapped or harsh.

"...Buttercup."

She didn't dare move, nor make a sound, until she was sure they were gone.

At seven pm, she found herself outside of the entrance to the underground. She'd had enough sense to change from her uniform. The outfit she selected, a white dress with an olive pattern on the skirt, was flattering, but she tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

She was nervous, as illustrated by the tapping of her black flats on the ground, waiting in the line to place her bet. Her tanned hand slipped into her clutch, delicately touching her credit card. This was a mistake...a mistake, she could turn, could leave. She flicked her gaze on the other patrons of the establishment, where she very obviously didn't belong.

"Ma'am?" A voice questioned impatiently before her, causing the female to whirl around sheepishly.

"Yeah, I..I..want to make a bet, on the...horse race. B-Buttercup." Her voice was quiet...timid almost, something she didn't recognize as herself. She was confident, she spoke regularly to groups of people and now..she couldn't speak to this man.

"Well -- how much?" He was growing exceedingly irritated with the woman, eying her posture and expression. Good gods, she looked like she was liable to bolt at any moment.

"Five...five thousand." She placed her credit card on the surface of the counter, watching as he took the piece of plastic. "W-wait. Fifteen." He lifted an eyebrow, but continued on, turning to place the transaction in the proper place before she interrupted him once more, "No. Seventy-five thousand. Dollars."

He looked shocked obviously before his other eyebrow lifted. "You got that much on here, Miss, er," he examined the name on the card, "Miss Downing?" He paused before continuing, "If not, you could just borrow from the house." He shrugged then, pushing the card back to her reach, "Just need to see your I.D."


What happened next had been a blur.
But now...
Now she was sitting in a room, a bloodied man sitting directly in front of her.

Rebekah pressed herself closer to her seat, trying not to look at the moaning, very brutally beaten man.

Buttercup had lost.

What if they were to question her? About how she knew the race had been rigged? What...what exactly were they going to do? And how the fucking hell was she going to come up with that much money? $75,000.00?! Was she out of her fucking mind?

Her eyes slid closed then, putting all of her energy and efforts into focusing on breathing. She was a flight attendant for Christ's sake, maybe she could just skip the fucking country? Her next flight left tomorrow evening... what if they knew? ...whoever they were. She couldn't even be sure of that. All she knew was that a man had grabbed her from behind, drug her down a hallway and shoved her into this chair.

"Sit down and shut the fuck up." A command she was too terrified to do anything but abide to.


ooc;;


Play-by that I use for Rebekah Downing

Sorry, that got sort of long. ^^;

[COMATOSE]

He was considered a good man in the public eye. He helped negotiate the Conex Treaty in 1945 to end The Great War; doing other diplomatic meetings, both public and secret to ensure stability.
Well, of course he was going to stop wars. His line of business meant that wars do not positively affect his finances. The Underground relied on peaceful co-existence to ensure that there would be more people participating within The Underground.

Rylan Raehall (Ray-ha-l) was the Supreme Governor of Conex, appointed by the IRC ten years ago. His was basically in charge of the city, which meant he was wealthy. Very wealthy.
We are talking of wealth where the cost of an average house is considered small change.

Although Rylan was soon as a good person, the truth could not be farther from it. His heart was devoid of warmth; his soul from compassion. He disliked the scum that they let within Conex. Population selection was the only thing that he couldn't do in this city, for complicated legal means. If it was his choice, then half of the population would be evicted.

Rylan was power-hungry and ruthless. He allowed no one to get in his way. No one to make mistakes. This was widely known to the public - but only that he was strict, which was then spun by spin-doctors 'as a way to ensure complete efficiency that Conex demands'.
He would rather commit genocide than see his own life disappear from this world. Rylan considered himself above everyone.

Rylan Raehall was a Sét. Instead of hair, his head was covered in brightly covered plumes so packed together that it did feel, when one touched it, almost like human hair. The plumes went down the back of his neck to across his shoulder blades and back, reaching down to the hip. The shoulders and membrane were also covered in the thick, bright plumes which seemed to contain the hues of all colours. The feathers, however were absent from the front of his torso, shoulders, legs and face. His eyes were large, coloured with violet. His pupils themselves were small, pinpointed against the violet background. His face was almost completely symmetrical. His nose resembled more of a beak, where skin was replaced by a dark, shell-like material. His skin had more of an olive tint.

When Rylan smiled, teeth sharp enough to shred skin and crack bone with ease were shown. Bright white and perfect to eat meat, it would entice fear with the more cowardly of Elvin, Human, and even Sét in some cases.

Snarling, Rylan stormed down the hallway towards the meeting room. The hallway was basic - whitewashed walls, dirty-white tiled floor and corrugated iron at both ends. His hands were stretched out and rigid - a Sét equivalent to a human's fist expression. His nails were retractable claws, currently hidden under a dark shell cover at each finger tip.
He had to go and interrogate a goddamn human? He was part of the freakin' triumvirate! He owned the underground and had to do work because no one else could.

Slamming open the door, he glared at the female human sitting in the chair. Besides here were two human guards with expressionless faces, whilst one Sét and one Elf guard were stood next to the other corrugated door behind the female.
The room was the same as the hallway - whitewashed walls with a white-tiled floor. The chairs were basic metal ones, with a metal table with a glass top separating the two.

Rylan sat on the simple chair in front of the suspect. He didn't bother to hide his fury, he couldn't be bothered. He was the ruler of Conex; he shouldn't have to deal with shit like her.

"Tell me, female, why did you bet so much money on a single horse? It's quite odd considering it's your first time here; especially since you are a mere flight attendant." Rylan stated in a calm tone, contridacting his snarled face. Why both with introductory? He knew who she was through official vials. She knew him because of what he had done and who he is now.

Introductions waste time.
She was wasting his time.


---------------

Conex is the world's only city-state that is technically part of every single nation of the planet. Built by the International Race Relations Council , commonly referred to as the IRC, it represents the 'peaceful co-existence of the three sentient races' on the planet. With a complex legal and political system, only those with great intelligence influence and connections may live within the city. Each citizen is handpicked from their home nation's government, to represent their race and their nation within the city.
The IRC hope that this may be the first step into the O.N.E vision: One Nation Earth.

International Race Relations Council/IRC was created after The Great War between 1914 and 1945 AD. It was a war with three fronts - each race wanting to become too dominant, or in the human case, the only sentient race on the planet. However, in 1945 with much of the world in ruin, the International Race Relations Council was created to prevent such a devastating war to occur again. The IRC have their own army for 'peace keeping' and 'war prevention' methods. It is composed of a representative from each national government. (Same nations as real life. U.S.A mostly human populated; U.K mostly Sét populated).

Humans are traditionally thee most war-hungry of species. They mostly populate the Americas and East Africa.

Sét are humanoid in appearance, with large eyes. They have a thin layer of membrane that stretches from their shoulder - elbow, down to their hips. Covered in colourful plumes and feathers, they can glide over short distances. Each pattern/hues are unique amongst each individual. Most populated in Western/Europe and the Australasia.

Elves are the traditional elves, with pointed ears and softer features. Genetically similar to the human population, they most populate the Western/Southern regions of Africa and Asia. Their skin colour ranges between dark - olive.

[Spotty]

Her white clutch had been taken, it was sitting on a surface just in her reach, and she considered reaching for the item. Inside her wallet was contained, probably a couple sticks of chapstick, but...beyond that, her cell phone. This...all of this couldn't be legal. Sure, she would probably be in as much trouble as anyone else here, but she didn't... her brown gaze was flicked on the bleeding man across the room. She didn't want to end up as that man had. She could call the authorities...and get away from whatever this was.

Rebekah was jolted from her thoughts when the door was slammed open. Her mouth fell open slightly when her gaze fell upon Rylan Raehall, eyes widening. What exactly had she done?

She knew well enough who he was. The woman didn't exactly pride herself on keeping up with international affairs, but there were just faces that one was familiar with...that or they lived under a rock. While spending so much time on an airplane might have been comparable to living on an enormous rock, she still had access to newspapers, and while she was off, or time between flights, there was television...and Rylan Raehall was someone that was frequently featured.

What was unsettling, however, was that he knew...who she was. Or rather, what she was. She had flinched under his glare, sinking back into her seat. Her bag with her belongings, namely her cell phone, went forgotten then. She was intelligent enough to realize that reaching for the clutch...doing anything really was detrimental to her health. Slipping her arms around her waist, she forced her mouth shut, glancing up at Rylan as he spoke.

"I...I..." Her words were quiet, choked almost. She didn't know how to answer the question...and...the wealth of shame that washed over her at the mention of her occupation further tightened her throat. She could sense his irritation easily enough, despite the contradiction of his speech.

Shaking her head slowly, she lowered her gaze, wringing her hands in her lap. There was no way to answer the question. It...wasn't exactly believable, not even to herself. Part of her was beginning to suspect that this...maybe all of this wasn't happening at all? It...was a dream, she'd wake up in her room and... her peripherals had found the bloodied and beaten man near her, causing her stomach to turn over. She was inclined to believe this as a dream, but...the scent of blood in the air was too real, too sharp to allow herself the luxury of that hope.

"I-I don't know," she forced out finally, keeping her gaze decidedly averted.

[COMATOSE]

Rylan's large eyes narrowed upon the young female, his pupils constricted as he analysed her. She seemed weak and was obviously female - it didn't take much effort to work that out.

"I do not want to waste time here. I have a busy schedule, and sadly a pitiful human like you does not get top priority." Rylan snapped his pointed teeth clearly visible, "Especially since you are female."

The Sét recorded culture stretches back beyond humans, and reached approximately the same time of that of the elves. They once belonged to a segregated caste system which was not determined by heredity.
The class you were once inwas determined by the colours, hues and patterns that a Sét grew. This meant that you could have a higher class Sét belonging to low class parents.

Segregated by jobs, housing and cultural roles, the Sét were often divided that had lead to many wars across history. Females, however, were considered merely as flesh who were there to provide pleasure, service and children. This, the Sét had once believed, had been the command from the Great Eagle - their version of 'God'.
Although the race had their culture so diluted it was practically non-existent, the Eagle still stood for many positive things.

Still, Rylan contained his culture's view upon females.

"You are to tell me everything you know or things will become unpleasant." He growled his claws beginning the poke through the shell-like skin at the tips of his fingers.

"If you co-operate, you will be free to go back to your job within a few days time."

There were so many options he could do to this poor female. She really must have no clue what she is getting herself in to.

[Spotty]

Everything she knew?
But she didn't know anything, at least, nothing that was valuable to him. She knew the name of the flight she was expected to board tomorrow afternoon. She knew where her apartment was located, the name of the street, the number. She knew her social security number. ...and she knew from three men in a public restroom that a horse was supposed to win a horse race.

A horse that didn't win.

Once more the woman shook her head, dark hair falling over her shoulder. It wasn't that she was intentionally being difficult, she...really had nothing to say.

"I have a small amount of money in a savings account," she began quietly, trying to work out a solution for this mess, "I could...I could find a way to raise the rest. I-I promise I can pay you, I just...I need...time."

He had to let her leave...this...this whole thing, detaining her in this manner couldn't be legal. Then again...if Rylan Raehall was behind this...did it matter? What could she say against this man that anyone would believe?

Rebekah pushed herself closer to the chair, willing her breathing to become more even. So long as she remained calm, this...this would be over soon. The words that she coached to herself in her mind seemed...forced and fake, even to herself. The next moment, she was suddenly afraid that she was on the brink of tears. She had to pull herself together.

"This...is....just a misunderstanding," she added finally, glancing up at the Set, just in time to notice his claws. Immediately she averted her gaze, unintentionally looking towards the bloodied man once more. The female swallowed, eyes sliding closed. She was shaking now, out of...fear, she didn't understand. This couldn't be happening, it..couldn't.

[COMATOSE]

Rylan just stared at the female in complete anger. A misunderstanding? Was this human purposely trying to kill herself in the most horrific way?

Rylan Raehall clenched his hands, causing the claws to extrude from the fingers and scrap the metal silently. His claws were approximately half the size of each finger respectively, with no claws extruding from his thumb.

"A misunderstanding?" Rylan growled, his voice showing a mere insight into the rage which was building up inside him. His eye colour darkened, whilst he tried not to attack the stupid human.
"Listen to me, you stupid bitch," Rylan snapped, his tone was quiet yet menacing; "You have no understanding how deep in shit you are right now. I could make you disappear and no one would care. I could erase your identity with a simple order."

Rylan fell abruptly silent, waiting for her to speak. He glanced at the bloodied man that stood a distance away, who was being held up by a single guard. He knew that the man was the one who thought the race was rigged for buttercup. Rylan knew that somehow this stupid bitch was either in on the deal or unfortunately overheard it.
Either way, she had made the biggest mistake of her life.

"You know something. You bet the highest amount - even more than the buffoon next to you," Rylan spoke, his voice cold and calm. Rylan's rage always differed between out-right brutality to intimidation or mind games.

"So let's keep this simple. You co-operate and live. You do not co-operate and disappear. Choose." Rylan spoke, in the same cold tone. He placed the emphasis on the last word.
Honestly, he didn't care if the bitch did or not. He already knew the information - possibly more than the wretched human. He did love playing games, especially on the primitive species.

[Spotty]

The woman could not restrain herself from flinching once more as he spoke.

It was a great sum of money, she understood that much...but when the individual standing before her was who he was, Rylan Raehall for Christ's sakes, why could he possibly be this rageful? And towards her?

Despite her better judgment, she allowed her mouth to fall open, swallowing, and...face paling at the final threat. She tried to force her mouth to function, though...what was she supposed to say? Would he even believe the truth? Even now...she didn't believe the events of earlier that evening.

She wanted to cry, more than anything else, but...she refused to allow herself the luxury.

"...alright," she murmured hoarsely, eyes sliding closed, and taking a deep shuddering breath. "I...I overheard a group of people discussing the...race. I just...I didn't want to work for the airline anymore, I thought...this would be the way out."

Of course she would have taken back the events of the evening, erased it like a stray mark on an otherwise clean sheet of paper. Never had she been in any sort of trouble, with teachers in school, with the police as a teenager, or an adult even. She managed enough money to get by, never cheated on her taxes, just...she led an average life...and the notion that she'd change all of that with the results of the horse race, she wished....well, she wished that she'd never had the thought at all.

"I said...I can get you the money," Rebekah continued quietly, daring to open her eyes then. "It's just...going to take me... a while." She wasn't in any position to ask for..time, but they both knew she didn't readily have the money.

[COMATOSE]

A smirk spread itself across Rylan's lips, before turning itself into a sharp-toothed grin. His race's equivalent to an amused expression.

He was amused at the pathetic... thing's fear. He was amused at how she was trying to say "Let me go and I'll pay you back somehow!"
Oh, Rebekah! Sadly, for you, nothing is that easy in the Underground.

"I do not care for your money, human," Rylan replied, his voice deep, toned with indifference, "Surely not even you're that stupid. You know who I am; therefore you know how wealthy I am."

He sat back against the cool metal of the chair, taking a moment or two to study the woman's face. He could see the fear. The desperation. Oh, how he wished he could stare into her soul and then just rip it out. Painfully.

After studying, Rylan sat up, folding his arms onto the desk. He leant forward, not enough to get too close to the vile creature, but enough to intimidate. He smiled, showing his pearly whites.

"This is how the underground works. You pay by becoming completely subservient until you pay your debt. Often, it is only for a year or two. However, your circumstances are... different. Your debt log has just lost the Underground quite some money; you have played directly into the hands of Fuchsia."

By the time he was finished speaking, he was snarling the last word. Fuchsia. The human member of the Triumvirate - famously known as stopping the Russian Federation-Australasian Federation war from even happening.
Fuchsia was a complete and utter cunt. Cruel until the end.
Rylan would have admired him, if it wasn't for the fact that Fuchsia was human.

"And that, human, has pissed me off greatly. You should know better than to piss of Rylan Raehall. Here of all places."

[Spotty]

How could her bet had made him this...angry?
It made no sense, no sense at all.

If he had money, if he was as wealthy as he said -- it must be the case he was Rylan Raehall -- then why was she being detained here? Surely it was the simple matter of making payments, of...something, just...not this. Not...the bloodied man several feet to her left.

She pressed herself closer to the chair when he leaned toward her, forcing herself to quell the twists in her stomach and protest rising in her chest when he referred to her as stupid. Had she not been in a panic, she probably would have flipped him some sort of vulgar gesture; but the state of the other man present in the room dissuaded such an impulsive, thoughtless act.

Rebekah certainly had no idea what he meant as he spoke once more, confusion evident enough as it crossed her pretty features.

"Subservient?" She repeated quietly. Sure, she understood the meaning of the word, but...the meaning here? It was beyond her. People weren't "subservient" in this society. They had free will and...rights. And he was proposing some sort of service for more than two years? This...had to be a nightmare, it couldn't happen.

Piss him off? How in the hell had she pissed him off? She hated feeling inadequate, but this guy...he made her feel the epitome of worthless. And for what? Placing a faulty bid? And where did that equate to angering the Set so much?

[COMATOSE]

Rylan's smirk became smug, as he lightly stroked the human's face with his ring finger's claw, ensuring it was light enough to she didn't bleed.
Disgustingly, human blood actually stained. His clothes were most likely worth more than this... breed of monkey.

"Listen, you stick-holding ape, and listen well," Rylan hissed, his eyes bright with confidence, "It means you are my slave. I own you. You will not be released until... certain events have gone to my favour."

Oh, how he loved to frighten this little thing!

The Underground worked like a regular casino... except rigged. However, the punters were not supposed to know that the place was rigged. Now, with her debt being the largest on the public book, many are questioning why someone would bet so much without having quite a lot of confidence...

Not even the other two Triumvirate - the elf and the human - knew that the place was rigged to the Sét's favour.
Now they wanted answers. Now if Rylan wasn't careful, his very reputation could be in danger.

Exposable danger.

He owned her. Sadly, the little human didn't know how much he owned her...

[Spotty]

Not even ten minutes ago, this man, this...monster, was assuring her that she could return to her life as long as she told him the truth! Indignation welled in her chest when he dared touch her...and his speech sent her over the edge.

Jerking out of his reach and away from his... horrible claw, the woman tensed, scowl settling on her face. "I'm not your slave," she hissed in return, recoiling away from Rylan as much as the chair would allow.

Rebekah loathed that she felt like doing nothing more than breaking down into tears. But beyond that, she loathed the Sét before her with every bit of her being. This monster couldn't be the man in such public favor...it couldn't be so.

The moment she got out of here, she would go to the newspaper, the police, something, someone had to know...even if it was just her employer at the airline.

"You can't own a human being."

ooc;;

x.o Ew, that's short.
Sorry. ><

[COMATOSE]

Rylan raised a single eyebrow, before calmly sitting back into the metal chair, rather informally.

Without a single sign, the human body guard behind the... human placed a small knife against her neck, using his free hand to ensure that the human does not escape; all in one swift movement.
He loved his guards - they knew what to do without him telling them.

They were like wonderful little pets, these humans...

"Of course I can own a human. I own Conex, therefore I effectively own you. In one phone call, I can have your family sent to prison for conspiring against Conex. No questions will be asked and it'll be under my jurisdiction. Do not think that you are a mystery to me. I know about you, Rebekah Downing." Rylan smirked, as an air of arrogance grew around him.

He wanted to see the human squirm.

"I can even have it so everyone you know and care about simply... disappear. I can take everything from you," Rylan mused, his voice toned with humour, as if this was just an innocent game.

That tone, however, was short lived. His eyes grew sharp, his body tensed and his voice grew harsher, "If you cross me, I will take everything from you but your life. I will watch you break down into the shell you once were. I will watch you become nothing. Nothing."

His teeth, razors that could easily snap human bone were purposely shone. His claws had detracted, showing their full glory. The black pigment within the claws glinted against the light above.

That bitch will pay, whether she crossed him or not.

And yes, Rylan Raehall is prone to mood swings.

[Spotty]

The girl released a choked cry when the knife was pressed to her throat, eyes widening, if only slightly, out of shock, but mostly..out of fear.

She was saved from panicking any further over the weapon, but...it was not from any sort of relief, it was simply because what he had to say was far more pressing than even the weight of the blade on her flesh.

Rebekah didn't doubt that he owned Conex, nor did she doubt that he could effectively cause her entire family to disappear with as much effort as flicking his wrist. However, she knew immediately that he didn't know her.

In some burst of intelligence and calculation on her part, she immediately became...subdued, forcing the insolence and incredulity out of her gaze. She continued to become submissive and dejected as he spoke, as though his words of her "family", her "loved ones" disappearing was painful and too horrible of a thought to oppose him.

The final threat actually threatened a reaction, one that would have decidedly caused him to become displeased, and so she was relieved that she managed to remain collected. She was afraid of him, that was an understatement. He was a monster, why wouldn't she fear him? But his words, they...they just didn't coincide with her reality. In her reality, a person was a person, despite race or gender. And so, while his words were...serious, it was difficult for her to understand how...it was even possible.

Her green eyes disappeared behind her lids once more as she desperately tried to reason out this situation for the hundredth time. Just hours ago the greatest issue plaguing her mind was making sure she picked up her dry cleaning before the flight tomorrow afternoon...

[COMATOSE]

Rylan Raehall laughed at the human's face, as he sat with one leg folded across the other. His feathers rippled in time of his laughter, making it look like a rainbow, shimmering.

"Your race is pathetic. Mother Nature drew the short straw when she made you pathetic apes. The elves come from feline family, and my kind comes from that of the majestic birds. The leaders of the sky," Rylan sneered, "You just fell off a tree."

"The International Race Relations Council ordered me to ensure Conex is stable for its yearly cross-city assessment. Your bet is a mark that stands out for a new member. It can cause... questions with the rest of the Triumvirate. It can cause a diplomatic scandal which could put Conex on track for a worse future," Rylan mused, as if it were nothing, "You could have caused strained relations. We don't want another Great War, do we?"

It was fun to play with the human. This would have never leaked, of course. However, Rylan liked to try and make the situation seem worse.

Rylan flicked his emerald eyes to the human bodyguard, the bodyguard that was holding the knife, "I deem her acceptable. Take her to her allocated apartment, where she may prepare herself for the next assignment."

Rylan sat forwards, placing his face just inches away from the poor human's head, trying to place increased intimidation before he left the thing to do her duties.

"You will come back to The Underground tomorrow morning. You will say that you are here for The Job, and then you state your identity code. That is: Five-Six-One," Rylan hissed, gazing the eyes that seemed so large and such near proximity, "You have no identity. That is your punishment. You will no longer be referred to by your name. Just you’re ID Number."

And with that last word, he stood up and left the room with barely and sounds, in seconds. He hoped he had left Rebekah with so many unanswered questions that would scream in her mind for many hours to come.

The human would be taken to a low-income apartment complex on London Drive. Low-income apartments were similar to the average apartment of a more economically-wealthy nation. In Conex, however, almost everyone is wealthy to a certain extent.

[Spotty]

Five was the age that she'd received her first bicycle.
Six represented the number of serious relationships she'd ever had.
One illustrated the number of living relatives she wasn't estranged from.

Five was the number of votes she'd been short for becoming Prom Queen in high school.
Six represented the date of her birthday...in January.
One illustrated the number of times she'd been on a train.

Five was the price of the expensive frappucinos she ordered from Starbucks nearly every day.
Six represented her shoe size.
One illustrated the number of times she'd ever gambled.

5-6-1 was the flight she was supposed to board in two hours.

Five-Six-One happened to be her new identity.

It had been at least four hours since the two guards had dragged her to the apartment. At first, she'd gone with them, if only out of her shock from the situation...but as they drew nearer to her new "home", she'd become...insolent. Eventually they'd left her at her apartment with a swollen, busted lip; refused to give her her belongings, her white clutch with her cell and other forms of identification, and had left her in her dress and heels.

They'd refused to let her retrieve her clothing, anything from her own apartment. When she'd continued to ask questions, that's when she'd received the blow.

She was sitting on the couch, unable to trust going back to the bedroom. Her elbow was propped up on the armrest while her chin was nestled against the palm of her hand. Rebekah had dozed off in this position, her legs tucked close to her body, without even bothering to take off her heels.