The Rising - Ennead 1

Pulling in The Threads - Act 1

Location: Duke Street Brownstone

We start out from an elevated angle, viewing the pristine quiet of a sub-urban neighborhood in Alexandria, Virginia. Suddenly the idyll is broken. A bullet grey Porsche Carrera weaves around a slowly parking car and screeches to a stop infront of a brownstone - detached, two storey, brown slate roof, round staircase with peaked turret.

This looks like it's going to be good. Let's zoom in and take a look then... No, we're not being intrusive. Stop being such a baby. They don't even know we're here.

The driver of the car is a young adult - at least eighteen, if I had to guess. She's a bit of looker: tall, willowy, blasian. Her pretty face isn't so pretty now though, worry does that to a person. She darts out of driver seat and helps an American-Asian woman gently cradle a limp body with blood soaked attire out of rear seat.
The Blasian model [Anais Jean-Baptiste] is a bundle of nerves. The whites of her eyes show more than they should. The other woman [Denise Cho] is more composed, her hair is slightly disarrayed but her demeanor is accepting - a little bit tough, to be honest.

Anais tries to be macho and take over. She grunts, "It's ok, I got this"

"No you don't." Denise goes, "You've barely got yourself. Just give them a second..."

Our attention is immediately drawn to the brownstone as, its front door slams open. A young man, dark hispanic, and deadly serious, darts out to take over the transport of the injured person [Rachel Astor].

Rachel's eyelids quiver and she emits a soft groan as Carlos takes over. Denise notices: "She's coming to, Galahad... I mean Carlos. Quickly!"

Oh dear. The kid really tries his best as he carries her in, balancing speed with care. It's tricky at the very least. I hope he doesn't mess her cup further. Let's follow along and take a closer look at the casualty...

Such a beautiful face, regardless of the fact that blood loss has already caused it to begin losing tone. Blood begins to dribble from one corner of her mouth. Her eyelids flutter slightly again but her eyes remain closed. The world slows down around us. All sound fades to grey, drowned out by the sole melody of Rachel's breathing - soft, gurgly and raspy.

I wonder what she's thinking...

Ah! Here we are. Her mind is replaying a memory, perhaps of her own past:

A baby in a cot mewls and gurgles. Rachel coos, then tickles its feet. The baby tries to focus its eyes and burbles with delight at the older sister.

Our Rachel is young, not the svelte asian aphrodite we saw before. IN this memory, she's just a girl - chubby with baby fat, about five/six years old -

A male voice floats out of a neighboring room - the father, "Rachel, sweetie, don't bother the baby. She'll cry."

Child Rachel pouts in response and then replies, "She doesn't seem to mind Daddy. Besides, Mommy said I could watch over her."

"I doubt she did," Her father chuckles, "If you're so keen, I need to get a few things from the grocery store. I'll only be a minute. You girls will be ok right?"

Child Rachel nods brightly and responds in the positive.

A door creaks slightly as it is opened and then closed gently. Our Rachel seems proud of the responsibility. Her attention turns back to her baby sister.

"Hey Baby Dee. It's just you and me now."

Baby Denise flaps her arms together in an almost-clap and gives her older sister a drooly smile.