Intertwined

Bloodborne Bonds

Alice

2029

When people ask me what it was like going through the Defenders' school system, I tell them in full respect that it was quite similar to being encouraged to throw your life over a steep cliff and being assured that once it hits the bottom, all of your wildest dreams will come true. You watch and gawk as it tumbles, shifts, take hits, carrying on with the faintest sparks of hope flickering somewhere inside of you, telling you that the violent descent is worth it eventually. This eventually is important, however, and often overlooked.

You smile and look forward to the goodness of what the unknown, of your proposed future, as you swim in your own anticipation that transforms into the most outlandish of hopes and expectations. But, one day, your life actually reaches the foundation of that cliff, smacking hard into its rocky surface, and contrary to the dangerous yet popular belief, nothing happens. You're left dusty, broken, tired, and with a shattered trust in whoever willed you to push your life off the deep end in the first place. It's always trust that endures the most damage.

As I assume my role in this story, in these recollections I'm told they're called, I'll inform you of this: a strange and warped thread can be drawn through many of the events that transpired within my life, from the time I was hardly standing upright until now, but I won't bother to include all of it. Milestones like speaking and walking are a given. The true start of my lifetime began around the age of twelve, when I had an overly motivated father pushing me nearer and nearer to that deceitful cliff with every word he spoke to me and every subliminal message he inserted into my day to day, which ultimately stated the following: put your life to good use and join the Intelligence Agency. Devote your life. It's pointless to think anything else. And I don't plan on starting my retelling of this odyssey on a wrongful, lying foot, so I'll be frank. I listened.

Alice Moon's piece, my piece, starts right around when I started listening, just as my father held my hand in his and, together, like the "lovely family" we were, tossed my innocently twinkling life right over the edge. I'd practically waved it goodbye as it fluttered away, soundless and unassuming. Being told by a large population of those around you that you're going to amount to great things lessens the fear and the burden of its loss anyways, so I had no reason yet to complain. I hardly ever complained back then. I was in a nice place.

Actually, my father, Zachariah Moon, was who found himself in that nice place, and his niceness translated to a pleasant existence on my part. My father was deeply involved in the Intelligence Agency, the center for the Defenders' collection, analysis, and safe-keeping of information regarding the military and security components of our society, the Divide's left side, complete with the full black get-ups and all, and my father was important. He was credited with stopping the most dangerous security breach the we'd ever seen from the Rebels, targeting our constant electronic surveillance of each Division and the Divide.

Since the Rebels still got their way and separated from us, of course, I don't see what the big deal is anymore, but I seem to be the only one who holds that opinion so I do my best to keep it under closed, locked doors.

Since then he's been regaled as the Intelligence Agency's savior, their golden man, the ideal agent, and even earned the title of Honorary Commander of the Surveillance Unit. While these accolades were only bestowed soon after my fourth birthday, the moment I came into the world people started asking the question: would she be enrolling in the program? Would Alice Octavia Moon become as excellent of an agent as her father?

I had no idea. Becoming an agent was all I knew, the only foreseeable direction I had, but apparently that was enough for outsiders to determine my future. The entire Defenders' Old Republic seemed to keep this terribly keen eye on me all through my childhood, asking about my IQ, my physical capabilities, speed, agility, accuracy and precision, my decision-making skills, and every other quality that makes up what they believe to be an exceptional agent. According to the "general public," I already possessed that "certain something" all successful agents required to get far; all I needed was the necessary training and conditioning.