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Chapter Three: Old Memories

As I step out of the hangar, my eyes survey the city.

"Wait, this is Vegas. I'm supposed to be in Los Angeles," I say to the pilot.

He gives me an even look, and says, "Well, we had to reroute the flight because of reasons unknown. I didn't plan to do this," he says unconvincingly while climbing into a waiting limo. I climb in after him.

"What became of the flight attendants?" I ask, hoping what I'm thinking is incorrect.

"What do you think?" he asks, looking at me like I'm idiotic. I look away, feeling frustrated at the tears welling up in my eyes. I move to the bed and close the curtain.

...

"Wake up. We're here. I said wake up, kid." I blink sleepiness out of my eyes and get up. The man pulls me out of the limousine and into an alley.

"Where are we? And who do you work for?" I ask.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked that already. "

"Okay... So... what's the answer to my question?"

"We are at the Blood Skulls headquarters."

"Okay..." I say, glancing around. He takes me by the arm and leads me to a door, where he holds up his hand and scans his eye. The door opens, and all heads turn in my direction. Ignoring them, he tugs me past the throng, into a small room, which leads into another small room, which leads to a door. I see the name, William Foster, on a plaque on the door. Wait... Dad? How? Mom said he died! How is alive? How did he survive...

The pilot opens the door, pushes me through, and says, "Elana Foster, sir," before shutting the door. I'm staring at the back of a leather chair, cigarette stench making the air toxic.

"Um, hi. Uh, I,-" I begin, stuttering uncontrollably.

"Cut the chit chat. I know that you remember me unless your mother decided to erase your memory, which I doubt, 'cause she probably thought it was too costly."

"Mom said you died, and now I know why she lied to me."

"Why is that?"

"You're psycho. You lead the Blood Skulls. Famous murderers are employed by the police to kill you. I don't get it! Why would you risk your life? Why did you leave anyway? Why didn't you come to rescue me sooner? Why-"

"BE QUIET! Now, listen to me. I wish I could have saved you, but when Natalia and I divorced, she went to court and paid the judge off so I would lose custody of you."

"That old hag!" I exclaim. "But wait. If you could just abduct me, why didn't you do it earlier? Why not just shove me in a backpack and hold me for ransom? Sure seems like you're doing it now."

"Elana, I didn't want the police to think it was me. But it's been so long now, and they don't know who leads the Blood Skulls, so they can't trace you to me, and they won't think of me, because it's been eight years since everything happened." I look at the sick, twisted man who has become my father. What happened to him? I thought mother looked old, but he's twenty years younger looks a million years older.

"IT'S FINE. You're here now, and that's all that matters to me. Oh, and obviously, you won't be going on any missions," he says, "Instead, you will pretend to be a cook in the kitchens. I hired multiple gourmet chefs so you won't have to do anything. My people won't hurt you if they think you're a reliable source of food." I give him a harsh stare.

"A reliable source of food? That's overrated."

"Take your pick: chef or prisoner."

"UGH! FINE!" I say, punching the wall and making an impressive dent. Dad looks at me proudly for a few seconds, then looks at me again with a familiar authoritative look.

"Oh, and by the way, you will either refer to me as Boss or Mr. Foster. I have no doubt some people will connect the dots about... the past... but I can and will snuff them out. Just fulfill my faith in your acting abilities."

"Okay, Sir."

"That still works."