"Mr Taylor?" A voice said from behind a small desk. "How may I be helping you today?"

“I’m here to see Elliott, he was admitted the other day,” I replied, standing in front of the black-faced secretary.

She typed into a computer in front of her for a few moments. “Oh, yes. Mr ‘Harvey Dent.’ Nasty scars on that kid. Are you family?” She asked with a slight whine in her voice.

“No, just a close friend. I owe it to him, even though I saved-"

I was interrupted quickly. “Then, I’m sorry. We’re only allowing close family or V.I.P.s into his room at the moment. You’ll be able to see him once we’ve sorted through his procedure. I can book in an appointment for next-”

“No!” I snapped. “I want to see him now. I want to be sure that he’s okay!”

The secretary gave me a very stern look. “Well, I can’t change hospital procedures just to revolve around you, SIR. And do know that he is in very good hands here at the John Radcliffe!”

Already she was kinda pissing me off with just her voice.

“Hey, don’t speak to me like that, bitch! This is MY FRIEND we are talking about here. And I want to see him to make sure he’s safe and healthy!”

She leant forward as I saw a few people staring at us from around the large lobby.

“I understand that you value your friend dearly. But we can’t just let anyone waltz in there. I barely know if you even know him. And address me with such language again, sir, and I’ll call security!”

I was about to give this woman a full serving of my fist. But my internal moral code stopped me just as a phone started to ring on her desk. She shortly picked it up.

I couldn’t hear the person on the other line. Yet her dialogue was crisp and clear. “Hello, John Radcliffe Hospital, how may I be helping you today?”

A muffled voice spoke up from the other end, which, after a few moments, drew an odd look from her, as she turned and looked at me. “Yes. Someone like that is here. Who is this?”

There was another short moment before her eyes lit up wide. Her cheeks reddened brightly and she started to breath quickly and heavily. “Oh, sir!” She gasped. “Yes, yes! I’ll send him up immediately!”

There was another moment of quiet, before she suddenly giggled loudly to herself. Who the hell could be on the other end?

“Ooh! Thank you, sir. I would like that very much sir but;” she then whispered the next bit, “I’ll meet you for… dinner. And then… something... Special?” She then giggled loudly again and waved her hand quickly beside her face. “OOH! Thank you, sir. Call me!”

She slammed the phone down hastily, her face as red as a cherry.

“You can go up to Mr Wong, Patrick. He’s on the Seventh Floor, door at the end of the first corridor if you take the elevator!”

I was shocked, but I kinda expected it. Yet still, I had to ask.

“But what about the rules? Isn’t there massive security issues with this?”

“Oh, SCREW THOSE! Just go ahead! I’ve got a date to prepare for!”

I walked off towards the elevator as the receptionist was laughing to herself and spinning around on her chair. I tried not to look back, as I worried about what her reaction would be. What a crazy little bitch.

I always liked the lifts in hospitals. Since it had glass surrounding it, so you could see the rooms below. Yet the way that the elevator tannoy spoke was slightly disconcerting. And I always liked to see if I could get up or down the stairs faster than the lift could.

“Seventh Floor,” The lift spoke up in a smooth, monotone voice, obviously suffering dearly from its use and the scars of time. I wondered though, even with all the budget that this hospital would receive from the people’s tax money, the people running the place still wouldn’t fix that bloody tannoy. Yet I still remembered a lift in a flat my grandparents used to own where the tannoy sounded like it was suffering throat cancer and was holding on dearly to its last breath.

As I hopped off the lift, I was exposed to the normal chaos that would normally happen in a hospital. Doctors were running around; angry friends of patients yelling at doctors; a patient who obviously SHOULD be at A&E, but somehow managed to find his way to the 7th floor despite missing one of his arms; people being wheeled around on hospital beds. But I managed to overlook some of them, in order to get to Elliott’s room.

I opened the door and took out a card from my pocket. His room was quite spacious, yet felt cold and clean at the same time. But there he was, lying motionless on the bed.

“Hiya Elliott,” I waved, keeping my voice down slightly. But I received no reply, as the only sound I heard was the gentle sound of his breathing, and the slow beeps of the heart monitor next to him. I found a chair and pulled it up beside the bed.

“Funny how this happened, eh,” I murmured. “Something so stupid as a little game. I’m so sorry Elliott.”

I placed the card down on a little bowl next to his bed. I knew that he couldn’t hear me at the moment, but I still tried to make sure that he knew it was me.

“I got you a card… Plus a little money to just say… Sorry… For what we did.”

Elliott did not respond however. He just remained silent and motionless, and I bowed my head in slight shame.

Half of his head was covered in bandages, with medical tape going along the horizontal of his face. The bandaging was thick and left a lot to the imagination, but I still remember dragging him out to see him resembling nothing less than Gustavo Fring from the last episode of series 3 of Breaking Bad. The poor sod was lucky to be alive from his injuries ALONE.

At this time, I probably would have taken advantage of his injuries and left a coin on the side of his bed. Heck, even the receptionist had nicknamed him Harvey Dent from what I could tell. But I didn’t feel like it. Something in my head was ticking differently since I made that choice back in the lab. Nothing big that I really took into consideration, but something was going on differently in there.

I looked around a bit again. Before noticing something on the side of his bed next to my card. A quite high-class looking card, with some writing. But in a handwriting I could always recognise.

It was a slightly snappy comment, but something I definitely would not expect to be in a ‘get well soon’ card.

“Dont die, K? DJ.”

A figure burst through the door, wearing a full suit, shades and an earpiece. The classic, almost cliché, appearance of what a bodyguard would look like.

“Excuse me?” He asked in a stern tone. Straightening his posture, as did I, slightly. “Who gave you permission to be here, sir? Do note that this suite is reserved for the-”

“Don’t worry Craig, he’s a friend. Take the hour off and get yourself a sandwich, ‘kay bud?” A voice interrupted from outside of the room. Causing the bodyguard to look at the man in an odd way before shrugging his shoulders and walking off. To only be greeted by some flashes from cameras and some general mumbling from other people outside.

“Is Elliott’s injury attracting the press? Am I gunna be famous?” I asked in my head. But my question was answered properly and promptly by another figure entering the room. This was a figure that I had seen coming, but did not expect.

He had a broad posture, like Robert Lutece, but lacking the sign of eccentricity and wore the stature like he wore a large black suit and purple tie. But the thing that was his key feature, was his face. With an inviting smile surrounded by a masculine beard, and short spiky hair. With a thick jawline and finally his eyes.

No one could ever forget the eyes of Darius Jem.

“Darius. You son of a bitch!” I yelled, embracing my friend in a hug. As did he return the favor.

“It’s good to see you on such harsh times at the moment, Patch,” he replied, as I realised why he was here.

“Are you attempting to make publicity out of my friend’s injuries for your campaign, Darius?” I asked.

Darius scoffed for a moment. Before holding onto my shoulder. “No, Patrick. Would I do that? A rescue story is not the sadness and pity of the victim. But the humility and bravery of the hero!”

I sat down on the chair again and rolled my eyes. “Darius, I told you that all this ‘Prime Minister’ stuff is not something that I like to get myself involved in!”

Where are my manners, sorry. Now let me tell you about Darius Jem.

Years before I was born, my mother used to go out with a man with serious amnesia and a strange and rare degenerative disease that left his skin pale and his scelera tinted hauntingly black. She found him on the streets alone, and his stunning looks took the better of her. And soon she had him back on his feet and made him a better man. Despite not having him come to any conclusion on his identity beforehand, she gave him a place to stay and food to eat before, after a few weeks, he left on his own terms. Without saying a word, or taking anything with him except my grandfather's old tie.

About a month later, he arrived at her doorstep with a bunch of flowers and a large sum of money. She was shocked by his sudden appearance and wealth.

When she allowed him into her house again, he revealed that he was given a second chance in life due to a man known as Hermeas Mora. Who gave him enough power and wealth to begin what would become a multi-million pound enterprise known as 'The Government' despite not having any connection to politics ironically.

But he thanked my mother for helping him achieve the courage to find this man and saved his life from a life of poverty.

And soon they were a close couple, despite him still not having a name. So they moved in together and they shared and flourished in his wealth.

Soon the man was given a name; due to my mother finding an old children's rhyme.

He and my mother both thought that Darius Jem would be a fitting name for him. Despite the darkness the character was described with in this manner.

But it wasn’t long before he wanted her to become more than just close friends. He had it all planned, he would use his company to book an entire evening at the Ritz in London. He would get his employees to play her favourite song, get the chef to make her favourite meal to make her feel wonderful before he would get down on one knee and propose to her.

But then she left him.

She didn’t do the ‘I don’t want to see you again’ crap. She left him a note on their bed. Explaining how that she had been seeing another man. And that, even though she had done so much for him, and his kindness was very great to her: He was greedy, arrogant and slightly selfish. She didn’t want to be with a man that would only think about himself.

And so, in a few months, my mother married my father. And gave up a life of wealth with a man she made happy; to be with a man that made her happy. But even at her wedding, he was there. Not in spite, yet in the front row, clapping as they kissed at the alter.

They kept in touch, of course. After a few months, when I was born. My mother agreed Darius would be my guardian and godfather, if I were to ever need him.

But, since I suffered a rare form of autism from a young age. I was also prone to anger issues. So my mother could not put me into any public schools. And instead; I was taught and tested and examined by Darius himself. He was a good teacher, and acted as a good friend to me.

Whatever I learnt from him would always stay in my head. Even some things I later deemed 'pointless' I could write a 20 page essay on, about simply how it is related to how ink is used in pens! But this did mean, that when I did eventually go to a secondary school, I excelled quickly and always kept ahead of my classes. Eventually leading to me getting bullied a lot.

He was nice to have around, before he started to move into political work.

At first, it was minor things, like being a council member. And then, when I was in upper sixth form: he became Prime Minister of Great Britain.

He didn’t boast about it, far from it. The only change was that I would see him far less than usual: and when I did see him, most of our conversations would be of politics and other ‘delights’. Gradually, I would begin to hate those kinds of conversations, as mine and his life became slowly distant.

An opportunity where Darius would be involved in something to do with my own personal life was a rare one; and a suspicious one. But now, he wanted to use me!

You never know what you could expect from that strange and polite man.

Darius scoffed and sat down on the opposite side of the bed. “Don’t worry, Patrick. All this is, is good publicity! You don’t need to get into the politics of it all. And we could catch up on old times too!”

“No, Darius. I know that this will benefit your campaign. But this is still my friend we are talking about here. I’m not sure even he would like that.”

“Oh, you mean the Tabloids?” He asked, giving an indication to the people crammed up against the door, taking pictures with their cameras pressed up against the glass. He then pressed a little button on a phone in his pocket, and then shortly after; one of his guards pushed the press out of the way.

“But, I’m guessing you knew what happened then?” He asked, referring to Elliott. I looked to the side.

“Simple chemistry mistake made by a foolish competition, he received the full front of the blast; and was not escorted properly as the room fell up with poisonous gases. I went in to make sure that he wouldn’t die from the latter.”

I coughed heavily, causing Darius to raise one eyebrow. “Was that caused by the gases?”

I was going to deny it as a simple cough, but he did have a point. I did pass out after going into that room. “I don’t know,” I said, worryingly. Growing ever fearful now, even standing up. “Am I going to die?”

Darius held his head in his hands. “With a cough as strong as that, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were already a goner.”

“FUCK! JESUS!” I yelled, now running around a bit, holding my temples tight. “I’M GOING TO DIE, FOR FUCK’S SAKE, CHECK ME IN IF- You’re bull shitting me aren’t you?”

Darius broke down in a fit of chuckles. And pointed at me while straightening his sunglasses. “You should have seen your face there, Patrick! Priceless!”

He did have me fooled, and I could imagine the look I would have had on my face. But I still came round and punched him on the arm jokingly. “Oi! It was just a joke! Don’t do that around my guards, they’ll think you’re committing treason!”

“In a hospital, that kind of joke is most definitely not funny, Darius,” I said as he stood up and towered over me.

“True, but you shouldn’t fret anyway. If you were going to die, you’d be dead already. You’re just recovering, that’s all.” He turned to Elliott, then back to me, dropping his grin slightly. “Are you done here? Or are you here for a long visit? Since I would like to talk more in a bit less of a public place.”

I shrugged, “I’m free for the moment. I just wanted to see if he was in safe hands.”

Darius looked left and right assertively, announcing to himself. “Hey, a friend of yours better have good conditions for health care. That’s one part of my job!” Then, while addressing Elliott’s bandages; “And, unless he likes half his face blown off; I can see if we can get some reconstructive surgery done on him. To get him less of the ‘Two-Face’ look.”

I smiled gently, as we both started to walk out of the room. “Thanks Darius. But you’d better ask his parents before doing something like that.”

“When I have the time. But now we have some more pressing matters,” he said, holding the door open for me. Then he suddenly pressed hard on my shoulders. “Straighten your posture Patrick, you don’t look good with rounded shoulders.” I did so, and we both took the elevator down to the ground floor.

“My place or yours?” I asked, causing him to become confused and stare at me from an angle.

“For what exactly?”

“It’s obvious you want to interview me, Darius. You’re a terrible liar. So we might as well get the political wishy-washy stuff out of the way. Where should we go, then?”

Darius smiled, but shrugged. “You won’t mind if we head back to your place? My place is usually packed with tourists and the press. Plus… You know, Downing Street?”

“True,” I replied as we left the doors of the hospital, to be greeted by two cars. A Limo, and a Lambo.

“Luxury or speed, Taylor?” He asked, referring to the two cars, forcing me to raise one eyebrow and glare at Darius with a mouth pushed to the side. “The usual, sir?” He asked ironically; before tossing me a few keys and indicating with his head to the chauffeur in the limo. “Try not to crash it, please Patch! This thing costed me, and taxpayers money!”

I got into the yellow raging beast and turned the key when Darius got in the other side of the car. With the engine revving up, I booted up the sat-nav.

This was what I liked most about his visits.

“Hold on…” I said, slowing down the car slightly.

“Something wrong?”

“Not really. Just someone I know.” I then turned to out the window, where I saw Elizabeth walk down the street. I pulled down the window, and pulled into a little curb. “Elizabeth? Hey, Elizabeth!”

Elizabeth was wearing the same clothes I first met her in, but she only looked at me briefly before walking away slightly quickly.

I was curious again, so I turned off the engine and stepped out of the door quickly.

“Hey, Patrick? What’s the hurry, and… Keys?” Darius yelled, also stepping out the car, but holding onto the keys.

“Just a sec, Darius, I just need to talk to someone.” I then started to run after Elizabeth. But not in a way to raise attention. She glared at me when I grabbed her shoulder.

“Hey. What’s up?” I asked. Only to have her shrug her shoulders.

“I thought you were the Lambo-type. Didn’t expect to run into you here though,” she replied.

“Well, you know everything else about me. I would have expected that you would know that this street is on my way home!”

“I should have known, I’d expect that you’d like to talk about that… But it seems you are busy already.”

Darius ran up to us both, and slammed a hand down on my shoulder. “You’re a fast runner, Patrick… Who’s the girl?”

There was a moment’s pause as the three of us just stared at each other. “This… Is Elizabeth… We met only the other day. She works with the Luteces.”

Darius stuck out his bottom lip and nodded gently. “Those two, eh? I heard they were planning something big recently. Anyway- I’m-”

Elizabeth then cut across in a monotone voice. “Darius Jem: current Prime Minister and Godfather to Patrick Taylor. You spent millions of taxpayers’ money last year on personal goods and government projects that were deemed to fail from the outset. You suffer from Chronos Corpus, and have had up to this date twenty-six sexual partners.”

“Cripes, you’ve done your research, haven’t you?” Darius blurted, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

“She did that with me too. I was just wondering how she does it.”

“It’s good to see you again, Patrick. But I’d rather not with him around.”

There was another pause.

"Er... Why?" Darius inquired, pushing back his sunglasses.

"I'm sorry, Prime Minister. You might have good votes; but I still don't like you."

Darius shrugged and chuckled. “You aren’t the only one who doesn’t trust me, my dear. But I can see why you want your privacy. I’ll be waiting in the car.” Darius straightened his jacket and walked off. So I diverted my attention back to Elizabeth.

“He’s gone now, so… Can we-” I was then grabbed by Elizabeth tightly. In such a way, that it would look like a kiss from afar. “What the fuck are you-?!”

“Don’t speak another word,” she whispered, holding me tightly. “I don’t want to spread panic.” She then slipped her hand into my pocket and deposited a small object into it. “When the clock strikes twelve tomorrow on the eve of the mid of spring. The curse will be lifted. And your power will awaken.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow, then!” she then exclaimed rather loudly, shifting her tone to a happier rhyme.

“What the hell was that-?”

“Meet you at the Luteces, then,” she interrupted again, turning and walking off. Leaving me in the dark once more, even darker this time in fact.

“Hey!” I yelled, trying to get her attention. Thankfully, she turned and raised her head slightly.

“Yeah?”

“When we last saw each other, you mouthed something: ‘Five Score Divided By Four’, which mathematically works out to Twenty Five. What did you mean by that?”

Elizabeth smiled and just walked off. Without saying another word. It was obvious that I wouldn’t be getting any more information from her… without cutting her head open-

Calm down brain!

I went back to the car again, and revved up the engine.

“What was with her? She your special someone?” Darius asked sarcastically, arranging a few cards in his hands.

“Not really,” I replied. Staring blankly at the mysterious girl walking away from us on the street. “In fact, I barely know her.”

“Sudden interest… Because?” He asked again.

“She finds ways of getting to me. I haven’t found anyone else in my life who knows everything about me and the first thing she wants to know is about My Little Pony.”

Darius chuckled as I pulled out into the road again. “Still into that show? But I would like to meet her again, even if she hates my guts.”

“You manage to pull it off with my mother every time you come round. And she still wants to hit you with a truck every time!”

Darius laughed heartily and we both continued driving back home.

“Tea, Prime Minister?” offered Cordelia, holding the steaming brew above his cup.

“Yes, that would be nice Cordelia. No sugar, please.” He accepted the hot beverage graciously, and Cordelia walked out of the room shortly after, now holding her phone with the teapot in the other hand. “So, how did you piece it together?”

I then told him about the other day, and the series of thoughts that crossed my mind before I found him. As Darius listened closely. When I finished, there was a pause as he took some things down on a notepad.

“Not exactly Sherlock Holmes. I would have expected that it would have taken something a little more than year nine Chemistry and Physics,” he smirked, wisely.

“It would be more than most people could handle, and besides: the room was full of poisonous gases and low visibility.”

“True. But you can advance my conclusions for the press, if you like. There’s no real thing stopping you.”

Darius tipped his glasses back and smiled smugly. “That isn’t my policy. The truth… And Only the truth.”

“And what of the newspaper, nowadays? I heard you were still working on that,” I asked, grabbing a copy of the Uncovered Times on my counter. “And, I see you aren’t afraid to admit to your own mistakes. This, however is one of my favourites-” I then started to read from the newspaper.

“‘Prime Minister does Charity run, for Charity. Hopes to raise money for Charity,’

with a picture of you, crossing your fingers and chuckling. Then on the next day-” I then took out another paper.

“‘Prime Minister wastes taxpayers’ money on new extension.’

With a picture of you, with a frankly marvelous extension to your own house, giving the finger to the camera.

‘“At least I’m fucking honest,” remarks Darius Jem’

.”

Darius and I laughed as Cordelia walked back in and sat down on my sofa with me. Cordelia looked down at me, moved slightly away, and sipped her tea. Darius then stopped laughing for a moment and snapped his fingers.

“Ooh, yes! Thanks for reminding me about something. That girl from earlier, I thought that I recognised her! She sometimes does the horoscopes on page 24.”

I stopped for a moment, thinking over. Looking at Cordelia for guidance, before I grabbed another newspaper for today. And, there it was… Elizabeth Comstock; daily horoscope. With a small picture of her, looking as cheery as I remembered her.

And under what my star sign would be, there it was;

“This is a tremendous day for you, Taurus. You may find that dreams really can come true. Make sure you stay abreast of communication and periodicals. Let your fingers dip into many different pies and keep a notepad handy. Your brilliant strokes of inspiration may come on a whim, so be ready to receive them. The genius within you yearns to spring forth.”

“Pretty upbeat. But still makes as much sense as any other horoscope.”

“Such as?”

“No sense whatsoever!” Cordelia and I chuckled. We did not believe in astrology in any way. But liked to read horoscopes just to see what all the fuss was about, and just to see how ridiculous they were. And we soon found Darius was also chuckling.

We stopped laughing for a moment, as Darius sighed and stared guardedly at the two of us on the sofa.

“Why aren’t you two together?” He remarked, as I threw down the newspapers, to have my head snap back up to him.

“What?” Cordelia blurted, tad annoyed with the comment.

“Last time we met, Patrick was absolutely gaga for you! But now I see you, it seems like an invisible wall has been wedged between you!” He gestured with his hand a wall between us. As we looked at each other awkwardly. “See that! What the hell is going on?”

There was a silence, that fell on all of us. Only to be broken by Joshua coming back home.
“Hey guys. Sorry I’m late; I was a bit caught up in work a bit-” He stopped to stare at Darius. “P-p-p-prime Minister!”

Darius stood up to address my friend. But I only saw a look of disgust on his face. “Don’t address me, as such, Mr Newport. But I would prefer if you were to address me as ‘sir’.”

“Thank you, sir… May I ask why you are here?” He asked, obviously sweating from Darius’ tall and wide posture. But Darius took advantage of his height and leant over him.

“I was just here to ask Patrick some questions about his little ‘event’. But I have all I need,” he addressed to me now. But Josh was now also sitting down as Darius marked his position humorously.

“Do you wish… to have dinner, sir?” Josh whimpered. Leading to another smirk and a chuckle.

“No, you don’t need to cook. For a start; I doubt someone of your…” He paused, looking upon the Costa Coffee logo still on his shirt and widened his eyes, “... expertise, would be able to make a meal of certain quality. Plus, Patrick and Cordelia already have offered to make us all dinner tonight.”

“We have?” Cordelia asked, still slightly angry about Darius’ early point.

“Oh yes. But I’d suggest you two better get to it! I have time, but I think we’re all hungry! Don’t worry though-” He then turned back to Josh. “I’ll play nice.”

We were both grudgingly moved into the kitchen. Giving ourselves confused looks. But eventually, Cordelia shrugged and picked out a recipe from ‘Julia Child; Mastering the Art of French Cooking.’ Before glaring out back to the sitting room, to hear muffled shouting. She breathed heavily through her mouth. “What is that guy’s problem with Josh? What did he ever do?”

I grinned, but keeping back my laughter. “Darius respects us, but looks down on Josh. You and I see the nice guy in him. But Darius hates his guts!”

“Why does he need to be so rude, though?”

“And why did we break up?”

“Sorry?” She questioned, sternly. Showing sheer anger to me now.

“No, don’t change the subject! He was right. We were great friends, almost boyfriend and girlfriend! Then Sophia happened, and now you won’t be seen near me unless Josh is banging you upright!”

Cordelia stepped towards me, and slapped me hard on the cheek. Giving an unfamiliar sting in my jaw. “Don’t say that!”

“Cordelia, please!” I yelled, rubbing my cheek in pain.

“And how could it possibly be over if it never even started to begin with?” She yelled angrily. “You were weird, Patrick! And Sophia helped me see that. Even though you hated her, she helped me not become just the wasted girlfriend for you.”

“You’re dull, Josh isn’t. And you don’t take any risks, Josh does. And don’t think that finding out that you like… Goddamn ponies! And giving me one night- where I felt sorry for you, and took the blame for you, just to show me your little fetish and hope that I feel any different about you!”

I stopped, and stared for a moment at Cordelia. She was breathing heavily, as I saw it hit her in the face. What she had said to me was one of the most awful and hurtful things ANYONE had said to me. And from someone that I felt close to all of these years made it hurt more.

“Well,” I stammered, seeing Cordelia tear up and begin to step towards me. “I hope you have a lovely evening!”

“Patrick: I’m sorry!”

“No, no! It’s fine. You three need your privacy!” I started to storm out of the kitchen and grab my phone and a warm jacket.

“Patrick, please!”

I did not stop walking out. I was furious and devastated, but I wasn’t going to walk out without a show.

“Just tell Darius that I have something going on tonight! I’m sure that he’ll be fine with that.”

“Patrick,” Cordelia whimpered, trying to reach out to me.

“Enjoy your fucking evening!”

I slammed the door, without saying another word. But it seemed that I wasn’t going to see myself back in that house tonight. I stayed by the door for a moment, and just heard her sobbing. I walked away; and went out onto the high street. Holding back my own angry tears as much as I could.

I tried not thinking about the incident a few moments ago. I just walked on my own, soaking up the message Cordelia had given to me.

It was quite late into the night at that time. So no-one was really on the streets, while the night was dark and cool. If a little TOO cool.

It then hit me that I had just walked out of my own house. And it was a late spring night. So I would still need a place for the night. Thus, I got out my phone and dialed a number. before that phrase popped into my head once more. "The Queen must bring the King his armor, before he engages in battle." I chose to ignore it, before pressing the green button.

“Hello?” A familiar voice spoke on the phone.

“Hi Hannah,” I murmured with a hoarse voice. “It’s Patrick.”

There was a short silence as the information was digested. “Hi, Patrick. Is there any reason for your calling? At this time, no less?”

"It's not too much. But, could I crash at your place tonight? Something happened with me and Cordie, and I kinda walked out on my own accord."

There was a heavy sigh on the phone. But she understood, obviously.

“I have some guests round at the moment. Sorry if something bad happened, I’ll have my guest room made up. Just don’t get killed on your way here.” She said before a car narrowly passed by me.

"Arsehole!" I yelled at the careless driver. Taking my phone away and giving him the finger. "Anyway, thanks Hannah! See you in a bit."

"See you, Patrick."

I hung up, and punched the directions into Google Maps to get to Hannah's house.

Hannah's house was not exactly something to behold. It was more of a typical North Oxford house that she had bought herself.

And in the driveway, there was her specially customised Rolls-Royce. With the colouring to match the MLP villain; Queen Chrysalis. Even getting a cool green under glow! Also bought herself.

But with other people's credit cards.

Ever since she left school, Hannah took a bit of a dark turn. Becoming an identity criminal.

Any sane person would report this, but as you could probably tell by now, I'm not exactly sane. So I still kept her close, but remaining wary and silent about the whole forging credit cards and stealing other's money.

Mostly since she was the only person who could really understand me.

But not in a creepy way, like Elizabeth was.

I knocked on the door, using the loud knocker, but only knocking once as my trademark for people who knew me. But it was short moments before I could get a reply. As the door crept open to reveal the Luteces on the other side.

Rosalind was the first to speak up. “Oh. Hello Patrick. Your timing was…”

“-Unexpected” Robert cut across. “And yet, your appearance here-”

“Not as surprising.”

I just stood, blinking twice as the two looked back at me.

“Are you going to come in?” Rosalind asked forcefully.

“We, were just leaving,” Robert retorted.

“We have done all we need to do-”

“And you have yet to begin,” Robert said, as they both stood to the side, allowing me to walk into the house. Thinking nothing about them.

I was halfway down the main corridor before turning back to the door as it slammed shut. The rest of the house was brightly lit by ceiling and wall lights. I heard a general rustle from the end of the corridor, and gently wandered into the living room.

“Hiya Hannah.” I murmured quietly, seeing her glancing up at me while quickly putting something in her pocket. “Whatcha got there?”

She refused to take her hand out of her pocket, but leaned back casually. “Just an early birthday present from the Luteces. Nothing special,” She growled quietly.

“Mind if I sit down?”

“Sure!” She then shuffled up slightly on her sofa.

“What was it?” I wondered, referring to her pocket when I spoke.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” She retorted. Leaning in a bit closer.

I paused for a moment. “The Luteces haven’t given me anything. Plus, even if they did. I kinda left in a hurry. I didn’t have time for much, instead of my phone.”

“Pity,” She pouted, looking down as she took something out of her pocket.

The object was a strange black crown, metallic in appearance, but seemed cold and hard. With small turquoise orbs topping the four spikes that spread out from the small base: which could barely cover one’s forehead.

It was a replica of Queen Chrysalis’ crown.

“Good isn’t it?” Hannah smirked, propping the Onyx Crown on the top of her head. “I’m surprised that the two would spend that much money on a My Little Pony cosplay item!”

I glared at her. “‘That much’ money? How much is; ‘that much’?”

She took the crown off her head. “They didn’t tell me exactly, but they told me something close,” leaning in, she tapped on the crown base. “This stuff is a rare form of Chitin. You know;”

“A polymer of N-acetylglucosamine molecules,” we said in unison.

“But the catch is,” Hannah continued, “No-one knows what animal it came from! It was a fluke that the Luteces managed to get hold of it! And after doing some stuff with it; they shaped it and gave it to me!” She popped the crown back on her head. “Pretty cool, eh?”

I flicked the crown with my finger slowly. It remained in place as it made a metallic ‘ping’. “Quite metal-y, though. No known animal?”

“Probably. It’s not certain whether it was an animal at all!”

I smirked. “Maybe… Changeling?”

Hannah gave me a look of ‘yeah, right’ before announcing ironically, “And this day was going to be perfect, until you made that quip!” In Chrysalis’ tone of voice.

I giggled at her, "Yes my Queen, it shall be and The Queen must bring the King his armor, before he engages in battle." I slipped out at the last moment, causing Hannah to raise an eyebrow and giggle gently.

We both chuckled awkwardly before her phone went off. And with a short swift movement, she answered it.
She turned away so I couldn’t hear in on most of the conversation.

“Yeah… yeah… Don’t worry, he’s here. What do you… Oh, I see… Don’t worry, I’ll… Oh, that’s fine. Thank you…Hope to meet you soon, okay? Bye then.”

I tilted my head, “Was that Cordelia? What was she saying?”

Hannah put her phone in her pocket. “No. It was the Prime Minister. He was wondering where you were, and why you left so quickly.”

“It doesn’t matter, Hannah. I just felt a little depressed.”

She then smiled, concerned, but with only one side of her mouth.

“Do you care?” I asked.

“Not in the slightest.”

“Just as I expected from you.”

“Ponies? That’ll get your hopes up,” she asked, pointing to a presumably stolen TV.

“Why not?” I replied. Not giving much more than a shrug.

So we both watched the entirety of Season one, two and three before she went to bed and crashed on the couch. I still tried distracting myself from the events from earlier, but it didn’t really matter to me.

With the hospitality people give me these days. What’s left to expect any more.

Author's Note

Finally got that one out. Sorry for the slow update. But I managed to get it out just a few days after my birthday. Yay! Here, I introduce two new characters. The next chapter will be from the point of view of Hannah, for a change.

A big thank you to StrayanPhoenix772. Author of another Five Score Story; (And a great one at that) Earning Wings of a Different Nature, for editing this story!