DISCLAIMER: I don't own Aeon Flux, Trevor Goodchild, Monica, or Bregna. I also cannot be the credited author of: "It's none of aeon's business, but…", "Only I can give what you truly want." "You can't give it, can't even buy it, and you just don't get it." Nor the Danger Boy poem…All of these are from MTVs and Peter Chung's tv show: Aeon Flux.



The girl was crouched in the corner of the small, dirty room amid the frantic shouting of The Woman and The Man. She watched them with wide, curious blue eyes. It appeared that The Man was putting on some sort of armour, and a determined face. The Woman kept crying, shouting, and clinging to The Man. The girl looked on this display in disgust. She silently vowed that she would never resort to that kind of behaviour. She would definitely be more like The Man. It seemed the more The Man was told not to do what he was doing, the more determined he became. The girl liked that.

Finally, The Man flung open the door and stormed out of the filthy room. The girl liked the affect of this. She liked how he had ignored the crying of The Woman. The girl started to follow in fascination until she was violently pulled back into the room. The Woman frantically rambled about staying safe and how it wasn't safe to follow her father. She bolted the door of the dirty room. The girl wasn't sure if The Man really was her father, or The Woman her mother. She secretly hoped that The Woman was not her mother. The Woman continued babbling as she tucked the girl into a secluded cubbyhole. Gunshots could be heard outside the room, and suddenly The Woman was silent. The girl couldn't see anything now, but she could hear the door being flung open. The girl wanted to believe that it was The Man returning, but she knew that she would never see him again. That fact made her momentarily angry. She heard The Woman frantically crying and then a series of gunshots. The girl waited until the sound of footsteps had faded away, and only the laboured breathing of The Woman could be heard.

The girl crawled out of the cubbyhole easily, and walked towards The Woman in a state of morbid curiosity. Impending death seemed to loom in the small, dirty room. The girl was fascinated with the blood. The Woman was babbling even more now. Most of what she was saying was incoherent to the girl. The Woman raised a blood soaked hand to the girl's face. She looked the girl in the eye and mumbled one last sentence. The girl didn't understand what was being said; the magnitude of the information, the seriousness of the situation, the meaning of the words. But, she liked the way two of them sounded. The severity of the sounds appealed to her sharp mind.

The Woman's hand fell away from the girls face, smearing blood into her dark hair. Footsteps and shouting could be heard from inside the room. The girl thought for a moment that she would die just as undignified a death as The Woman had: bleeding on the floor of a dirty room. But, when the girl saw the men in the doorway, and more importantly, the old woman with the cigarette, she knew they would not kill her…yet. A man dropped to his knees and put his fingers to The Woman's throat. He held them there for a moment and then proclaimed her dead. The girl looked at the body without emotion. The old woman with the cigarette stepped towards the girl, whose back was to her.

"What is your name, child?" the old woman asked.

The girl turned ever so slightly, so that the bloodied side of her face was to the old woman. She looked up with one clear, blue eye and spoke those two, severe sounding words.

The old woman faintly smiled as she took another drag.