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Soldier.” I turned back towards Connor. “And he’s here?”
    “Possibly.” He stated.
    “What does he want?” I already knew the answer to the question before I asked it.
    “Me.” Connor proceeded towards the door. “Let’s go.”
    I could perceive the misery in Girard’s face and I grabbed her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze in a vain attempt to sedate her fear. Things were happening so quickly. It seemed like it was only yesterday when the most complicated decision I had to make was what outfit to wear and now…
    A part of me wanted to fault Connor for all of this, for turning me into a Vampire, transforming me into some impassive, immortal killer. My life was so much easier before I met him and everything that’s transpired since that auspicious night at the bonfire could be blamed on him and him alone.
    Yet I knew this not to be true.
    Connor protected me, liberating me from Goodwin’s failed abduction and has been guarding me ever since. Truth be told, it all originates with me and some nonsensical prophecy that I am believed to fulfill. The Box of Pandora. That’s what has devastated my life, completely rewriting my existence to the point that I’m not even the same person anymore. I could only imagine if this is what my life was like now and I haven’t even found the damn thing yet, what’s it gonna be like once I open it?
    “You.” Connor was pointing at Staci. “I don’t want you at my back. Take point. I want to keep my eyes on you.”
    She gave me an apprehensive glance and then did as she was told. The 20twelve Lounge should have been in state of hysteria and panic, but it wasn’t. The fact that three dead bodies were being lugged off to some back room while the janitorial service began to mop up blood didn’t seem to disturb the patrons in the least. As far as they were concerned, it was business as usual.
    “So what’s the plan?” Connor prompted.
    “Wait, you’re asking me?” I wasn’t prepared. “Why are you asking me?”
    “Because, I came up with a plan, which you then promptly disregarded.” He enlightened. “And since capture, torture, murder is officially off the table, what are you replacing it with?”
    Once we filed out of the entrance to the 20twelve Lounge all that became moot.
    The anterior of the club was completely besieged by men and women decorated in some type of white and yellow Kevlar body armor. The way their uniforms looked, you could tell that they were unquestionably government issued, yet their armor was nothing that was in circulation today, maybe in another ten years or so. They each held some modified version of an M-16 and there were numerous lime green colored infrared lights being trained in our direction.
    “Thank God.” Girard exclaimed in relief as she took off, sprinting well behind their fortification line. “You said that you were going to raid the Lounge if I was in trouble.”
    A grizzled man marched forward. His façade was rigid and battle worn. “Your objective was to escort them outside of the 20twelve Lounge. I’m impressed. You succeeded and you’re still alive.” He turned towards Connor. “Seems like you’re not as much of a bad ass as the Colonel alleged you were.”
    “We’ll see.” Connor replied.
    “You assumed he was going to kill me?” Girard demanded. “You said I was going to be perfectly safe. I didn’t volunteer for…”
    “Secure that woman and process her for Yellow Brick Road transport.” He ordered.
    “YBR transport?” Staci Girard was struggling with two captains as they were twisting her hands behind her back and securing them in flexi handcuffs. “But that’s only used for summary executions!”
    “Get her out of here now.” He barked before turning back to us. “My name is Staff Sergeant Maritol with the United States Defense Initiative. By edict of the President of the United States of America, Connor Prometheus has been herby classified as an enemy combatant with terrorist