A/N: I would like to let everyone know that, if they have not read my profile, I've taken a new path in life. I realize that my academics are much more important than updating a silly fic every weekend. I've become more involved in studying (which I used to not do) and already, my grades are showing signs of improvement.

It's with this that I would like to say that in no way am I going to be able to update every weekend like I used to a long time ago. Unless, perchance, I get to write the whole chapter in one day (which is probably going to be unlikely), I'll only be updating whenever I get the thing done.

Of course, something's going to have to substitute for that. I now plan on making the chapters much longer depending on how long it's been since I updated. Consider it kind of a "treat" for waiting.

Fo' shizzle, I'm out.

Something Ebil This Way Comes

As the author of this passage, it is my duty to inform you that this chapter starts a day after the events of Chronology VI.

Tri چ

Kristin Wilson was, as said before, your typical housewife. Everyday she woke up at seven, got herself ready for the day, and made a big pot of coffee that woke up the whole house as if they were in one of those retarded commercials. Sometimes, they woke up without the coffee brewing,like they also do in some of those retarded commercials. This confused the author and made him wonder how they could look so happy and relaxed when the coffee wasn't even being made. It's like getting all excited before Sadie Hawkins a month before it actually happened, which all high school girls seem to do… Or, they do at the author's school, anyway.

Anyway, the point is that her family depended not only on Levon, but Kristin as well. While the kids were at school and Levon was making his ridiculous sum of money, Kristin stayed home and cleaned the house and did other housewife activities. For interactivity, I'll let you list your own chores after the "cleaned the house" bit. It's sad to say that this author doesn't really know what exactly a housewife does besides cleaning houses, and he would like to say that if you are a feminist that found this statement insulting, leave now and never come back.

Today, however, was different. Kristin was now climbing into her '65 Thunderbird and preparing to drive off towards her husband's office. She had an urgent look on her face. I don't know how I'm supposed to describe it; the point is it was urgent. Of course, I'm not going to actually tell you why she had such a look; that would be unethical. And besides, the author likes a little bit of suspense. Not too much, though, like Lost. That show just went completely South when that damn Claire chick just had to get kidnapped… Bitch.

As she headed down the freeway at thirty-miles per hour, her left blinker flashing continuously and many an old woman yelling at her for giving the senior citizens a bad name, she couldn't help but wonder what had given her this feeling growing inside of her. It wasn't anything old, that's for sure. She needed to get to her husband's office and fast. Something was going to happen.

The only trouble was that she didn't remember how to get there. This appears to be a common trait for most housewives (or, as least, my mom), and she was currently reaching into her purse for her cell phone, which would be followed by a call to her husband that would result in much bickering as to which exit to take.

But, alas! There was the building right in front of her!

As Kristin drove up the long driveway to the top of the hill, she couldn't help but notice that a lone, gray cloud was hanging mercilessly over the building and everything around it. Looking behind her haphazardly (yes, she was still driving), she noticed that everything else in the city was enjoying a nice blanket of sunshine. Realizing that this was like one of those scary liberal junk science movies that proved their theories on global warming, the feeling of doom inside the housewife grew. It went from a feeling of doom to a feeling that a little kid gets after sneaking into an R rated movie, only without the nudity and obscenities. This very feeling had a reputation of giving the bravest toddler an urge to wet his pants from excitement (which usually happened, explaining why there are so many low urinals in movie theater restrooms). Kristin, being a woman in her late twenties, never got this feeling. Instead, she just got a feeling of excitement. It is also these reasons why women like Jane Fonda and Ruth Bader Ginsburg screamed at God/Mother Nature for not giving women an equal feeling of fright like men, along with the other sexist stuff. The author hates these two women very much… and their faces. Gross.

After shivering from fright at the thought of the two women's visages, Kristin arrived at the company's parking lot. Selecting a nice handicap lane, she reached into her glove box and pulled out the handicap tag that she had found in her late mother's closet. Hanging it from her rearview mirror, she hopped out of the car and darted for the entrance.

Everything inside the building was just as she remembered it to be. There, right before her, was an elevator that seemed to beckon her. Responding to the call (like most characters in these situations do), she pressed the "up" button and waited patiently. After a moment, the elevator doors opened, and she stepped inside.

Pressing the appropriate button quickly, Kristin waited, and the elevator soon lifted itself off of the ground. It stopped on the third floor and opened for none other than Brad Elliot, a close family friend that was notorious for his problems.

"Hello Kristin," said Brad as he walked in solemnly. "How are you?"

"Fine," responded Kristin as she gave Brad a welcoming hug like many of the high school girls at the author's school. "And you?"

(A/N: WHAT THE HELL IS IT WITH THESE GIRLS? DO ANY OF YOU HAVE GIRLS THAT JUST HUG EVERYBODY? DO YOU? I mean, I like hugs, but these are like "Hey Wade!" (hug of greeting), and then I'm like "Idiot. Hell no I won't marry you. Gosh!" …Yeah…)

"Not so well," said Brad as he returned the hug (as guys usually do in these cases). "The wife expects me to ask the boss for a raise."

"Why? You and my husband both earn more than you de-… more than you need."

Brad shrugged. "I don't know. She said she needed a new Fall wardrobe or something."

"Hmm…"

"…Is there something troubling you?"

Kristin snapped back into reality and opened her mouth to speak. "As a matter of fact, Brad, there is."

"What's up?"

Kristin put her hands in front of her in dramatic fashion. "Ever since I got up this morning, I've had this feeling that something horrible was going to happen. So horrible that I, a character unknown to fans of the Teen Titans, was created for the sole purpose of coming here and telling my husband's secretary, who was also created for this fic, that she may know something that no else will in typical Mary Sue fashion. I think…"

Brad's eyes widened. "That's terrible!"

"No kidding. And now, seeing that I've just broken many walls in this elevator, we should probably stop talking and act like we're in an actual fic."

"Gee… I don't know. Sounds hard."

"What did you think of the game yesterday?"

"The football game?"

"Yes."

"It was ridiculous."

"I know. That fumble in the third quarter just totally ruined everything."

The elevator reached the ninth floor and opened, allowing Brad access to his floor. "See you later," he said, getting off and leaving Kristin to stay in her silence.

Which wasn't for long, seeing that her destination was only one floor above her. This was the tenth floor, the floor of her husband's office and the floor she desperately needed to reach.

She stepped off of the elevator to immediately see a circular desk. A young high school girl was sitting and writing hastily on a piece of paper. This was Meredith, Levon Wilson's secretary.

"Hello Mere," said Kristin as she hastily made her way to the desk. "Is Levon back from lunch?"

"He just left, Mrs. Wilson," said Meredith as the girl looked up from her paper. "Is there something you need?"

"Yes. Very much so."

"What is it? I can leave a message."

Kristin's eyes narrowed as she looked to the left and the right. Meredith, confused beyond belief, looked to the left and the right as well. Turning her attention back to the woman in front of her, she gained a look of curiosity. "Is this one of those messages that…"

Kristin nodded. "You see, in an act to make me sound like I know something that no one else does, the author has had me come to Levon's office in hopes that he hasn't come back yet. This way, I can talk to you without fear of him barging in and distracting us."

Meredith leaned in. "I'm listening."

Kristin's face was now about five inches from the secretary's. "Something horrible is going to happen soon."

Meredith's eyes widened. "Go on…"

"…That's it. Would you like a curtain to drop?"

Meredith frowned. "No."

"OK then."

"But why did you just tell me this, and how does it relate to me?"

"…The bad thing has to do with Levon. Something's going to happen, but I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"That would ruin the whole aspect of my secretive character. I'm going to be a good little OC and disappear, leaving you, a completely original character designed to lead the fic to its plot and figure out these things by yourself."

"But whyyyy?" Meredith whined. "Why me?"

"Because that's why you were made. It's not like you were just thrown in here for filler, like Brad."

Meredith's eyes widened. "I have a purpose?"

"Indeed."

Meredith made a fist and closed her eyes in satisfaction. "Yesssssss…"

"Well…" Kristin looked from left to right once again. "I must be off now. You will never see me again."

"How come?"

"It would defy my purpose."

"So… Wait. Let me get something here." Meredith pointed at Kristin. "You were made for the sole purpose of delivering this message to me."

"And for giving Levon the look of a family man, yes."

"And I was made to carry out the plot of the Wilson Story for the Chronology series."

"You are the one I'm talking to."

"Then why don't you help me out more?"

Kristin stood there in silence as if she didn't know what to say. "To contradict the plot?"

"Couldn't you have just not told me anything and make me look like a tragic, wrist-cutting girl that had to find things out the hard way?"

"…Yeah…"

"Then why did you just tell me the message?"

"To fulfill my duty."

"But what about my duty? I don't have to do anything with this message, do I?"

"I suppose not."

"So you're saying that I can just sit here and continue to live my life like a normal girl, waiting for this 'horrible thing' to come along by itself."

"Right."

"Wouldn't there have been the same reaction if you hadn't even come and told me this?"

"…I guess so, yes."

Meredith reclined in her chair and put her hands behind her head. "Owned."

Kristin rolled her eyes. "Just shut up and act your part. You never saw me." She threw down a smoke bomb, and as soon as the smoke had dissipated, she stealthily walked away.

Meredith was now by herself. What was she supposed to do now? Just sit here and wait for something else to happen? Or was she actually supposed to find out everything else in her lonesome, trying to stop this "evil" from arising?

Whatever she had to do, it was making her hungry.

For Wilson the Bell Tolls

It was now one o'clock, the exact end of everyone's lunch hour. As Levon Wilson headed up to the tenth floor, he couldn't help but notice an odd feeling of something terrible about to happen in his favor. Or it was probably indigestion from the lunch he had just eaten. One of the two.

The elevator opened and the man inside stepped out, smiling as he made his way near Meredith.

"Any messages?" he asked.

"One," said Meredith. "Mrs. Wilson came by while you were gone."

"Oh?" This was odd. Kristin never came to see him at work. "What did she want?"

Meredith looked around the room to make sure no one could've been listening in, then motioned for Levon to come closer. As soon as his ear was about an inch away from her mouth, she moved in herself.

"It's a secret…" she whispered.

Levon brought his head away and gave his secretary an odd look. "What?"

Meredith rolled her eyes. "It's a secret. It wasn't a message for you. It was a message for me."

"Then why did you tell me I had a message?"

"I didn't. I answered your question."

"I had asked if there were any messages."

"Right. And I answered."

It took Levon a short time to realize what his secretary was getting at, but he only rolled his eyes in response. "Thanks," he muttered as he walked off to his office.

"Nooo problem," responded Meredith as she began to write on a steno pad.

Levon rolled his eyes as he approached his office. He opened the door and stepped inside, slinging his briefcase down onto the floor. He sat in his chair behind his desk, contemplating on this odd feeling. Something was going to happen… Something horrible. Soon, too. Or maybe his indigestion had upgraded to acid reflux. It was hard to tell.

Levon's intercom buzzed. Sighing, he pressed the button and lazily spoke into it. "Yeah?"

"Wes is on line one," responded the disembodied voice of Meredith.

Levon raised an eyebrow. Nobody called Mr. Herbert by his first name. Nobody. Half the people in the building didn't even know his name.

"Thank you."

Picking up the phone, Levon pressed a button and put the receiver up against his face. "Yes Mr. Herbert?"

"Wilson!"

Levon had to pull the receiver away from his ear as his eardrum vibrated rapidly. "Yes, Mr. Herbert?" repeated Levon meekly.

"Get your ass down to my office, NOW!"

Levon heard the phone click on the other line. Sighing, he put his own receiver down and slowly got up from his chair. Something was up, and this was no acid reflux.

A frown on his face, Levon exited his office. He slowly made his way down his own little hall, where, at the end, he saw the concerned face of one of his dearest friends.

"Mr. Wilson…" began Meredith, her gaze never leaving Levon. "Would you like me to come with you?"

Well… this was new. Meredith refused to leave her desk during work hours. It was one of those annoying senses of "duty", as most people said.

"Yeah, Mere… That would be nice."

Meredith smiled and stood up from her chair. Exiting her desk, the two made their way towards the elevator, Levon still wearing his mask of depression and Meredith trying her hardest to smile. The elevator doors opened, and the two walked inside.

Wes Herbert's office was located in the basement. Nobody knew why except for the boss of the company himself. Wes hated windows, and he especially hated light… This would explain why he was the only one in the building that appreciated the constant overcast.

Of course, such seclusion would naturally be the lighter fluid in a pile of rumors about to get burned. Many people started to say that Wes stayed down in the basement because he just plain hated people, using the fact that he wasn't married and lived alone as their proof. Some people thought that he was just a lonely man, too afraid to leave his dark chamber and too afraid to make friends. A lot of people thought it was because he ate rats.

As the elevator continued to drop further and further down, both Levon and brave-hearted Meredith began to feel their anxiety levels steadily increasing. But the elevator felt no sympathy for either one of them, and instead continued its way down. It suddenly stopped and opened, exposing the two to a cold and damp environment.

Meredith was the first to leave, followed by Levon. The two walked side by side down a long, dark corridor, candles aligning each wall. It looked like a typical Harry Potter dungeon.

"This place hasn't changed at all," said Levon as he kept his gaze straight ahead at the door near the end of the tunnel. "I'm assuming Herbert's office hasn't, either."

"You've… been down here before?" asked Meredith as she made a face in disgust when she noticed the skeletal remains of a rat propped up against a wall.

"Yeah. It was back in '72, and I was still one of the normal people in the labeling sect. He called me down, and that evening, I was promoted to Head Labeler."

"You must have been… proud…?"

Levon grinned. "Yeah."

Meredith gave her boss a concerned look. She turned away quickly, however, just as soon as she was about to run into the door.

Levon sighed and opened the door slowly. Meredith, who had never been down in such a place before, gasped in amazement at what lay ahead of her.

The room before her was ridiculously large. It had to have been at least several stories high… if not even more. She couldn't see walls anywhere, but these were replaced by a mellow orange glow coming from all sides of the room. To make things even weirder, gears, cogs, and other mechanical devices churned and screeched from every direction, being visible only by their silhouettes.

"Dude," she said, somewhat amused. "What the hell?"

"Shh…" Levon whispered. "Your voice will carry in here. Keep it down."

Never one to disobey a direct order, Meredith kept it zipped. Instead, she followed Levon farther into the room, where she continued to look around. It was like one of those abandoned factories, or at least that's what she thought of.

"Wilson?"

The girl gasped and came back to reality when she realized she was standing in front of a large desk. There, behind the desk and in a throne-like chair, sat Wes Herbert. The man looked at the girl, his eyebrows rising in curiosity. "Why did you bring her?" he snapped, returning his gaze back to his employee.

"She came on her own, Mr. Herbert," said Levon boldly.

"She's too young to hear such things…"

"She's sixteen years old. She's far old enough."

Wes once again turned his attention to Meredith, who felt like she needed to sit in response.

"No one is supposed to know…"

"Meredith keeps her promises, and she knows very well when to talk and when not to talk."

Meredith turned to her boss. "I do?"

"Shut up."

Meredith, being one to never turn down a direct order, shut up once again.

"Wilson," began Wes as he put his fingers together. "I know what you've been doing. I know very well."

"If I may be so rude to interrupt, Wes," said Meredith as she raised her hand. "I can assure you Mr. Wilson has never done anything to me and would never hurt a fly."

As if things couldn't get more ironic, Levon replied to this statement by slapping a mosquito that had just landed on his boss's desk.

Meredith sweatdropped. Note to self: When someone tells you to shut up, shut up

"Now then, Wilson," began Wes once again. "If you're no doubt aware, our stocks have gone way down. The IRA has decreased their demand of boxes."

Meredith's mouth dropped open in amazement. The… IRA?

"Furthermore," began Wes as if Meredith's mouth had dropped open as the result of a sudden joint problem, "we'll have to give them our full support. Our company has relied on them for too long, and it still does."

"The IRA?" asked Meredith, aloud this time. She turned to Levon Wilson, who seemed upset. "The… Jump City Box Company supports… the IRA…?"

"The IRA is our biggest consumer," said Wes as he gave his full attention to the secretary. "They've been buying our boxes like mad."

"Why?"

"For packaging of weapons, of course. It doesn't make much sense just from speaking, but the charts prove it. The IRA loves us more than the radical Muslims."

Meredith turned to face her boss. "All this time… you've been helping the IRA?"

Levon frowned. He was, apparently, too ashamed to face his friend.

"What about all that stuff you used to tell me?" asked Meredith. "About how nobody should have to give in to anything? About doing what was right and ignoring what was wrong?"

"Wilson told you these things?" asked Wes. "Are you sure? Levon's been doing this thing for years! As of yet, nobody's even caught on! Not even his family!"

"You kept it a secret from them?" asked Meredith, her voice cracking from emotion.

The frown on Levon's face became more apparent. He should've kept Meredith from coming with him. He probably lost one of his best friends.

"Mr. Wilson, it doesn't make sense." Meredith frowned. "Why have you been going along with all of this? You were the one that told me to not get that tattoo if I didn't want one. You were the one telling me that I didn't have to defend somebody if I knew what they did wasn't right. But now… you're doing this?"

Levon's frown disappeared. "I suppose you're right, Mere. It doesn't make sense."

"No. No it doesn't."

"Mr. Herbert!"

"Yes?"

"I refuse to go along with this operation any farther!"

Meredith grinned. Now it was Wes's mouth that dropped. "What are you saying?"

"I refuse to become a part of a company that endorses terrorism, just because they're our number one consumer! Either that idea goes, or I go!"

Levon grinned and crossed his arms while Meredith clapped her hands in approval. Wes shrugged.

"OK Levon. If that's the way you want it, you're fired."

Levon's grin remained on his face, though Meredith could easily tell he was shocked. "What?"

"You're fired." Wes cocked his head. "OK?"

Levon lost his grin and his arms returned by his side. "You're… You're joking, aren't you Mr. Herbert?"

"Mmm… No."

"Heh, did you hear that Meredith?" asked Levon as he grinned and looked at his secretary. "He's a funny guy, isn't he?"

Meredith laughed nervously. So did Levon.

Wes didn't get what was so funny.

Father and Son Bonding

Leroy was sad. Mr. Bojangles had just been run over by a car.

He didn't understand it. No matter how many times he found a new frog and declared it his own, the poor little guy kept dying on him. Mr. Bojangles was no different.

As the boy sat in the street, poking Mr. Bojangles' flat body with a stick, he felt something moving towards him. He looked up and saw his father's car. Wondering why he would be home so early, Leroy left poor Mr. Bojangles in the street and walked up to the driver's window.

The window rolled down, and sure enough, there was Leroy's dad. He looked different… His usual sparkle in his eyes was gone, and his face looked like it had recently been very upset. Leroy was gifted… he could tell these things.

Levon smiled very weakly and put a hand on his son's head. Unlike Kristin, Levon wasn't as talented in sign language, and had to speak out loud as he performed with his hands to make things easier.

(A/N: Some people really have to do that. I never saw how it made it easier when I knew sign language… I guess it's what people do to give the deaf person a sense of normalcy.)

"Hey Leroy," said Levon to himself as he made the appropriate gestures. "How are you?"

Leroy smiled back, a gesture indicating that he was just fine. Levon returned the smile.

Before too long, Leroy and Levon were sitting in their front yard, looking at nothing in particular and having one of those typical Father-Son Bonding moments. Neither one of them couldn't help but realize how depressing this chapter seemed to get, but they decided to carry on. If they didn't, they wouldn't get their pay.

"I got fired from work today, Leroy."

Leroy frowned.

"I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't tell your mother… She would kill me."

Leroy nodded. And you only have one life, unlike me!

Levon smiled. "That's true, isn't it?"

The two sat there in further silence. Levon was apparently busy thinking to himself. Leroy was busy looking at Mr. Bojangles, who was already attracting flies.

Levon sighed. "What should I do, Leroy?"

Leroy shrugged.

"I mean… I can't just go back there and ask for my job back. That would be stupid."

Leroy nodded.

"I could eat a lot and gain fifteen pounds…"

Leroy made a look of disgust.

"Yeah, that's not a good idea, is it?"

Leroy shook his head.

"What would you do, Leroy? If you were me?"

Leroy smiled and made a small gesture with his hands.

"…Revenge? …Revenge…"

Leroy smiled as he watched his dad ponder.

"Yeah… Yeah! Revenge! I'll show them! I'll show all of them!"

Leroy's smile increased.

"You'll… You'll need to help me, Leroy. I'm going to need your destructive death wishes and your ability to die multiple times. Together, you and I can take down the whole company! We can take revenge upon the whole world if we have to!"

Leroy nodded.

"Yes… Tomorrow, my friend, we move in…"

Levon looked up at the sky and raised his hands into the air. With increasing volume, Levon gave out his first maniacal laugh, one that could easily compare to that of Ganondorf Dragmire's from The Legend of Zelda.

Leroy fwapped his dad.

(A/N: Ah… "fwap". How I've missed ye so.)

How the Empire Fell

Jump City didn't know what was about to happen to its beloved box company. Not even the animals.

Inside the main lobby of the company, a woman named Shailey sat behind a large oak desk. Shailey was, of course, a welcome girl, one of those cute little girls that were hired to give people directions throughout the building and to answer any general questions. Of course, none of these girls were hired for their intellect and ability to answer questions, but mainly because of their looks. This was evident in Shailey. The girl had breasts with more pressure than rear tires.

As the girl sat there, silently singing to herself, she couldn't help but notice a boy about seven years old enter the vicinity, looking around as if he were lost. He soon discovered Shailey behind her desk, however, and quickly made his way over.

Shailey, filled with curiosity, hurried to greet the boy. He had a look of worry on his face; a look that attracted all wandering people in the area to come forward and surround the boy in concern.

"What's the matter, little boy?" asked Shailey as she kneeled down so her eyes could meet his. "Are you lost? Did you lose your mom?"

To the shock of many a person, the boy grinned maniacally and exploded. This knocked the people far back in adjectives too gruesome for this author's personal taste.

Those that survived the explosion could soon hear a maniacal laugh coming from the entrance.

"Good job, Leroy!" said the voice as a larger man entered the room. "A great performance!"

Leroy climbed out of a pile of smoldering wood and grinned. He hurried to greet his dad, and the two stood side by side.

"Now." Levon reached into his pocket and pulled out several cartridges. "Here's some more dynamite. Have fun, but don't kill yourself more than ten times, OK?"

Leroy nodded and ran off.

"Now…" said Levon quietly to himself in all maliciousness he could muster. "To settle a little score…"

Levon headed towards an elevator and pressed the "down" button. The doors opened, and Levon stepped inside. I'm sure you all know where he's going.

As he stood there, listening to the elevator music that didn't seem to match the situation, Levon couldn't help but feel like he was doing something wrong. The words of his secretary kept echoing in the back of his mind… but what the hell? Who cared about her, anyway? HA HA HA! Eh…

The elevator stopped, and Levon casually walked down the dark corridor ahead of him. He reached the door, opened it, and stepped inside the orange room he had just recently been in a day ago. There, sitting behind his desk with no shock drawn on his face, was Wes.

"Hello Levon," said Wes as he put his fingers together once again, suddenly gaining a very exaggerated Italian accent. "I didn't expect you to be coming back."

"You know why I'm here, Wes," snarled Levon evilly.

Wes shook his head sadly. "Recruiting your own son, Levon? Shame…"

Levon's face didn't give off any sign of shock, but he couldn't help but have a sense of wonder. "How did you know?"

"I've got this nifty little thing embedded into my head," said Wes, grinning. "It's got some kind of magical power behind it… I can see what you're thinking. I can also see what cards a person has in his deck. Don't ask what that has to do with anything. It's just a little fact."

Levon's eyes became half-opened. He was obviously not amused. "Tell me. Now."

"I just did."

"No you didn't. You're mocking that pink-haired guy from the anime that'll come out a long time from now."

"No, I'm really not."

"Fine. The point is I came to kill you."

"You know you really don't want to, Levon."

Levon's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"Because, deep down in your heart, you know I'm not the guy that's responsible for firing you. Instead, a person that you know very well got you fired. A person that has been friends with you ever since you hired her."

Levon put a hand to his chin. "Kristin?"

"No."

"…May?"

"No…"

Levon's mouth dropped open in shock. "Senorita Arroz?"

"YOU DUMBASS!" shouted his ex-boss as he stood up from his chair. "IT WAS MEREDITH! MEREDITH! YOUR EX-SECRETARY!"

Wes sat back down in his chair and put his fingers together once again. Levon stood there in wonder.

"Meredith?"

"Yes. She was the one that convinced you to rebel. She convinced you to give up your position if I didn't meet your demands. If you want to kill anyone, it should be her."

"…"

"…You understand now?"

"Yes."

"Are you… Are you going to let me live?"

"No."

Levon pulled out a pistol and fired.

Ten Years Gone

The Jump City Box Company's building was just as it had been ten years ago: filthy, dilapidated, and ruined beyond repair.

Since that dreadful day, no one dared set foot on the hill that held that black building. The only thing that touched the ground was the continuous fall of rain droplets, which fell harder and, as a result, produced a massive amount of runoff.

Inside the building, things didn't look any better. The lobby that had once contained many cheery people was in ruins, along with nearly every other room in the building. Cobwebs covered the corners of the ceiling, and the smell of rotting wood filled the air.

However, below this pit of Hell, there was a hallway that was just as dark as it had been that day ten years ago. The very hallway led into the large open chamber that had once belonged to Wes Herbert, who was murdered that same day. Compared to all of the other rooms in the building, it was now the most neatly kept.

This chamber now belonged to Levon Wilson and his son, Leroy. The two stayed secluded in this orange chamber, never leaving. They had managed to build a laboratory further in the back of the room, and that was where one of the men was now. Levon Wilson was sitting in front of a large computer monitor, looking at a day planner.

"So…" began Levon as he put a hand to his chin. "I'm still playing handball with Robert this weekend… Excellent."

This constant seclusion did nothing good for Levon. His face became deathly white and his hair was in shambles. An accident with a machine had caused his left cheek to become scarred and torn, and he was now forced to wear a metallic mask in order to keep a random henchman from running away in fright. That, along with many other things, proved how his guards were none other than a bunch of pussies in evil looking garments.

As we speak, one of his guards rudely stumbled into the laboratory. Levon rolled his eyes as he heard the clumsy footwork and turned to face his henchman. "What do you want?" he asked rudely.

"Sir…" responded the guard as his knees knocked together. "Excuse my interruption, sir, but there is that man that you scheduled the interview with here to see you, and…"

"Fine," responded Levon as he reached towards a piece of paper on his desk. "Send him in."

The guard opened the door to reveal a large, muscular man.

"Now, let's see," said Levon as he looked at the piece of paper. "It says here that you were the star of some action show. Something called… Walker: Texas Ranger?"

"That's right, Mr. Wilson," responded the man as he lowered his head in respect.

"You've been a karate expert for a large amount of years, you have nice teaching experience, and you've been the base of many ridiculous and obnoxious jokes, not to mention the fact that your tears cure cancer. Is that true?"

"Yes, Mr. Wilson."

"As far as I'm concerned, you're hired." Levon tossed the sheet of paper behind his right shoulder. "When can I start?"

"Learning the art of…" The man stood on one foot and raised his hands, "KUNG FU is not an immediate thing, Mr. Wilson."

"I do not care for your random voice changes, Mr…. um… Norris."

This man, who apparently went by the name of Norris, glared at Levon. Levon could feel his kidneys liquefy.

"That's amazing," he said as he looked down at his abdomen. "I can feel myself being slowly poisoned already. How did you do that?"

"It takes many years of hard training, Mr. Wilson. After years of hard work, sweat, and impossible exercises, you too can be like me." Norris grinned. His teeth shined.

"Fine. Do whatever you need to do. But I'm expecting results." Levon swirled around in his chair. "Now, one of the hardest things I've had trouble with was deciding a name to suit my godly evilness. I heard you can make some pretty menacing-sounding names."

"Ah." Norris reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "I've already selected a few that your eminence might find… satisfactory."

"Just cut the crap and give them to me."

Norris reached into his other pocket and pulled out a pair of reading glasses. He cleared his throat and read. "The Dark Lord?"

"No."

"Supreme Tyrant?"

"Too political."

"Savage?"

"Moving on."

"Scab?"

"Hell nah."

"Slade?"

There was a brief period of silence. Levon sat in his chair, a hand on his chin. The guard and Norris both shifted around uncomfortably until Levon spoke once again.

"Slade… Slade… I like it. It has a nice ring to it."

"Yes. I suppose it does, Mr. Wilson."

Levon leaned forward and gave Norris a menacing look. "What did you just call me?"

"Mr. Wilson."

"Wrong."

"Slade?"

"Correct."

Norris bowed once again. His duties done, the guard showed him to the door.

As the door opened, however, the three were shocked to see a cloaked figure standing there. Her face, from the nose done, was wrapped in a bandage-like cloth, and through her tattered cloak, one could easily see she was frail.

"Who are you?"

The cloaked woman merely entered the room at a slow pace. Both Norris and the guard, who apparently didn't feel like being in the middle of something important, left the room.

"Can I help you, peasant?" asked Slade from his seat.

The woman took off her hood to reveal a mass of brown hair. She shook it from side to side and reached into one of her pockets, pulling out a date planner. She opened it up to the current date and held it up to Slade, who took it with curiosity.

"Ah," said Slade as he nodded his head. "That's right. You're that girl that I hired for the housekeeping position. Well, let me give you a rundown. The reason why I hired you is because I'm tired of having to pick up after my seventeen-year old son all of the time, not too mention I'm just plain sick of having to cook for him. He's an invalid, see, and he can't hear or speak. You're going to have to tend to his every need while I'm out wrecking havoc on poor individuals."

The girl nodded her head spastically.

"You're so quiet…" responded Slade as his voice became sympathetic. "Do you ever talk?"

The girl pointed to her throat and shook her head.

"What? Vow of silence?" Slade guessed.

The girl pointed towards a piece of paper on Slade's desk. Slade took it, looked at it, and held it up for the girl to see. "Your resume?"

The girl nodded and pointed at it once again.

"Restrictions? Restrictions… Oh! Oh ho ho! You're a mute also!"

The girl nodded spastically once again, sending her hair up and about.

"That's going to work out fine… Just fine. Now, let's look at your resume again. You're stealth and assassination skills are wonderful… that's good. And it says here that your abilities to prepare Cajun food have been praised by all of your former employers."

The girl grinned under her bandages.

"Excellent! Now, keep in mind it's your duty to keep the place running at top shape. You're to clean up after my son, Leroy, and you're to make sure he's as happy as any fancy-shmancy boy can be. You are to also cook dinner for him… Something Cajun, I guess. Keep in mind he's allergic to soy. I expect your menu items to reflect this."

The girl nodded.

"You will also be my main servant as well… You are to guard me from threatening attacks when I go to mingle around, all this and making a big steaming pot of something for us to eat by seven o'clock. That way… I'm sorry. I never caught your name. What did you say it was?"

The girl shook her head.

"Ah! Ha ha! You didn't! That's right. Now…. Resume… Resume… Ah. Your name is… Tasha?"

Tasha nodded.

"Heh. Tasha. There's an in-joke few are going to get."

Tasha rolled her eyes. Damn that author she thought to herself. Oh well… It was all part of her job. Her main priority was to keep this man under surveillance… something that wasn't going to be easy, especially when she had known this man so long ago… The only catch was he had no idea he was talking to someone he once knew and loved. Oooh…

"Now then." Slade smirked. "Tasha… What a name."

Tasha stood in silence. Heh.

"I suppose the best thing would be for me to introduce you to Leroy… but I have no idea where he is. No harm done. I'll just let him-"

Slade was immediately cut off when a tall boy with long, mangled hair, entered the room at a fast pace. He glanced at his father, but was immediately distracted when he noticed a woman he had never seen before.

Immediately, the effects of high school hormones set in, and Leroy Wilson was soon all over Tasha like a lovesick puppy.

"This is Leroy," said Slade as Tasha shuffled nervously away from the boy. "I'm sure you two will get to know each other."

Leroy grabbed Tasha's left arm and pressed his lips against her hand. Tasha pretended to be flattered, but under her bandages, her mouth formed a look of disgust.

Leroy didn't care. This woman was… Wholey crap, this girl was hott! And man, those eyes… God damn those eyes. And those hips. Rawr! And gee, she had to be at least like, what, twenty-six?

"He seems to be quite smitten with you." Slade smiled under his mask, the kind of smile that any father gained when his hormone-driven son was slobbering all over a sexy dame. Tasha fanned her face in mock flattery.

"This is Tasha, Leroy," said Slade in sign language as his son looked in interest. "She's going to be our bodyguard/maid/Cajun chef. What shall we have for dinner tonight, Leroy? I'm rather in the mood for… jambalaya. How about you?"

Leroy nodded spastically, a trait that seems to be dominant in mutes. In this fic, anyway.

"Good. You heard the man, Tasha. We expect a damn good helping of jambalaya by seven. Get going."

Tasha bowed swiftly, muttering a silent curse to the government agents that got her into this. Oh well. It was all for the sake of the people.

Leaving quickly, Tasha left the father and the son alone.

"Now then, Leroy," began Slade once again. "Let's go over our agenda for tomorrow. Do you have the list?"

Leroy reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap piece of paper.

"Let's see here," began Slade as he took the list. "Step one, go grocery shopping under the false identities of Bob and Drew… Good. Step two, brief the army of our idea to make androids. Step three, make the androids. Well done, Leroy. You're getting more and more like your father everyday. Like father, like son. Heh heh…"

Slade soon began laughing maniacally, something he often did. But when those sound waves echoed throughout the place, man, did pee leak.

Meanwhile, in an untidy kitchen below, Tasha couldn't help but wonder how she was going to get herself out of this mess. But man, was her jambalaya smelling good.

End

Uh oh… Slade and son Leroy are planning something! What is it? And who is this mysterious Tasha? Is it that obvious? …I mean, come on… It is, isn't it? Right? I mean… Wow.

Find out what happens next time on… CHRONOLOGY VIII!

Review. Now.