'Till We Meet Again...

Chapter One

-𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 1910 𝑎𝑛𝑑 1920-

The alley signed Pier 17 was empty that night. The walls were covered in posters, plastered with old newspapers' the papers can be heard rustling; Even a poster of Uncle Sam pointing at you, his clothes red and white stripes " I WANT YOU FOR U.S. ARMY " A shop window let anyone see the decorated boxes and figures displayed inside; the golden uppercase letters printed on the glass read "NEW YORK MUSIC BOX".

A male silhouette appeared on the other end of the narrow street, from among a cloud of soft steam coming from the river and the other street. His steps were firm and confident as he walked over the puddles spread over the street from the last time it rained; he slowed down as he got closer the music box shop, and finally stopped in front of the glass.

He wore a military uniform and a scar crossed his right cheek. He had some of Native American features, blonde hair and blue eyes but his left eye is brown, and fair skin; handsome to say the least, but he didn't look like the kind of person that smiles often. With something that could have been a pleased look, or just a melancholic one, he stood there, as a music box slowly played its song.

"What Child is this?" sounded sad on his ears but cast a ray of hope somehow. Many years before, he had stood there, listening to the same song, to the same music box. Maybe it was time to buy it.

The American soldier walked along a great hall in the open air. Big Greek style columns supported the high roof; an artificial lagoon and green grass could be seen outside through the columns; white buildings surrounded the gardens and an inscription in the walls read "United States Naval Academy". Going under an enormous dome with engravings, he came across two fellow naval comrades who saluted him as a superior, gesture that he replied to the same way.

He stopped before a wooden door and knocked. A "Come in" could be heard from the inside, and the man opened the door. He stepped forward and looked the uniformed man sitting at a desk, but the latter made a quick gesture with his left hand and laughed, inviting him to come in with a wave of his arm. Still without saying a word, the man sitting down offered the other a drink, raising his flagon of whiskey. He had bright brown eyes and Asian features, his hair black as the midnight "No, thanks," the American said, taking his cap off his head, and then frowning slightly. "Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital?"

A newspaper was in the desk. The heading line read "The World War Is Over." The subordinate put the whiskey flagon over the newspaper and looked at his superior
"Well, they said I could walk," he answered, raising his eyebrows and composing half a smile. He scoffed, moving awkwardly his glass of whiskey. "Well I can still shoot guns." He drank his whiskey with an upset look.
"Oh," the other replied, looking down at the desk.

"And it's okay," the Asian said, making the other look at him. "I survived, at least. By the way, how did you get me out of that ditch?"
The American man shrugged, looking away for a moment as he thought about it.

"I thought..." he said, half smiling." I can get a promotion by doing that."
"Well, your plan succeeded. Freedom, we made it BIG." The Asian looked really glad. He leaned forward towards Freedom, his voice rising with pride as he spoke. "We got a promotion and a call from the White House."
He raised his glass smacking his lips with satisfaction. As he drank, Freedom just stared as him with disbelief and a wide smile on his face.

* * *

"Is it good news or a bad news?" Sumato stopped walking then looking at Freedom; raising his left eyebrow "I mean is Philippines is a good news? During such a sensitive period, and you have no interest on going somewhere else" he said, Freedom looked at him and sighs "You know me so much Sumato yes I have no interest at all, but it's the president's order..." he said with a deep sigh.