Lost in their Past

Chapter 1:- The Flight Home

Delia was a light sleeper. Even the faintest sound was more than enough to wake her up.

It was one hour past midnight when she woke up. The air conditioner had stopped but her television was still on, radiating blue light.

She put her quilt aside, got off her bed and walked towards her bedroom window. She pushed the curtains aside and opened the window revealing lush green farms of the pallet town. Delia bit her lip sadly as she remembered her dream. Even though he was gone from her life for more than twenty years; she couldn't quite accept the fact that he was dead.

How could she? Guilt wouldn't let her.

He died to save you, it would say. You killed James.

Even now she could remember the sound of his laughter, the sight of his smile, the feel of his lips and the sternness in his eyes. If there was anything that she realized over the course of the past few years, it was that James wasn't just her love, he was a part of her from whom she refused to part ways. She sighed as she kissed her silver locket. The Kantonian summer night was warm and humid, it was nothing compared to the cold and crispiness of the night when James had died.

Delia closed the window and turned back to her bed, however, her ears shot up when the blue light coming from the television flickered. She stared at the television with suspicion.

The blue lights flickered every now and then. She sweatdropped as she opened her nightstand's second drawer and ran her fingers inside nervously. She found her silver revolver with full rounds just where she had put it. She sat on her bed with her body weight on her knees and stretched her right hand, the one with the revolver, forward.

It can't be her, she wondered. But... can it?

Delia had already lost her whole world when James had died, she'd paid her price. What more could they want?

Just as she'd suspected, the blue screen dissolved in a fit of a second and was followed by a blinding white light. Others might have squeezed their eyes shut but Delia didn't even blink. Grey, white and green dots of pixels now covered the screen. After a few more minutes, an image flickered on the television. Delia braced her arm when an old woman with silver-white hair, almond skin draped in wrinkles and skin folds appeared.

"It took me forever to hack into your bedroom television," the old woman said, "My my, your skills haven't even dropped a percent!"

Anger overtook Delia's nerve. She wanted to scream but her throat lay barren. She searched for words to cry but they couldn't come out of her lips, as if she was physically being restrained. Tears started to fill her eyes as she managed to say, "Shut it, " Delia bellowed, "What the hell do you want?"

"You're still short-tempered, I see, " the woman cackled as she brushed off a strand of hair which stuck at her lip, "I won't pop out of the television, you can lower your arm."

Delia did lower her arm, she continued to glare at the old lady before saying, "What do you want?"

The woman smudged as she let out a laugh, Well, how do you want me to put it. Truth or a lie?"

Delia scoffed, she had had her enough share of lies. If there was anything she learned, it was that listening to a made-up story couldn't wipe the zest of a famished mind. "Truth," she said.

The lady smiled, "The academy days have started to rub off on you, I like it."

Delia became agitated, to restrain herself, she looked down for a moment but rage found her anyways. "Tell me!" She shrieked.

The woman pretended to be scared, "Oh I'm scared," she mocked the brunette while waving her wrinkled hands in a wave, but after seeing that Delia wasn't entertained, she dropped down her act. "Our base recently picked up Electromagnetic warnings, they're stronger than earlier, it's time to assemble."