The drive after the funeral seemed to last forever but is no more than thirty minutes at most. The elegant car darts through the streets like a predator hunting in the snow. With a screech, the tires come to a stop in the new falling snow at the edge of a curb. From the vehicle's location a red brick alley can be seen between two buildings, but nothing more. 56 turns towards the passenger side and hesitantly says, “I think we’re here or else the GPS is wrong.”

#017 firmly replies, “Stay here until I return.” Mr. Wilkins opens his mouth to protest, but a warning scowl on his girl’s face stops him. Mr. Wilkins can only watch as his girl treads across the snow-covered road into the alleyway.

56 clears her throat and carefully asks, “So, just with who is she meeting with?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be this nervous, now would I?” Mr. Wilkins snapped back without removing his eyes from the alleyway. Mr. Wilkins furrows his brow in concentration to no avail, that alleyway was an electronic void area, he couldn’t even sense his girl anymore.

56 pouts and in reply turns on the radio to fill in the silence while they wait.

*

#017 warily enters via the hidden door in the alley wall and trudges down the concrete stairs into the pub waiting below. #017 pauses at the pub carefully observing the area for any problems including customers. The pub is still empty at this hour as the bar owner an older gentleman with crisp white hair polishes the cold beer mugs with a cloth.

Without even glancing up upwards, the bar owner says, “We’re still closed. Come back in an hour.”

“That’s not a problem, I am not here to drink,” #017 crisply replied.

The pub owner pauses and glances up to see the speaker. A great weight seems to return to the old man’s shoulders as he takes an unconscious step backward. “Hello Tim,” a familiar sounding voice said, that came out from the mists of time.

Tim suddenly finds himself transported to a cold evening, 5 years ago. It had been 16 years later since Tim had last seen Atlas until that dark morning that was filled with that unexpected visit. Having finished cleaned up the bar, Tim was ready to close the bar, when steady footsteps could be heard coming down the steps. Tim without glancing up barks, “The bar is closed for the night. Get out!”

A chilling voice replies, “I’m afraid not, I am here come to collect on a past due.”

Tim freezes at the voice to see a dark-haired man in crisp clothing step into the bar. Atlas Starr halts before the bar glancing dismissively around. Atlas face is harsher and more striking. The largest change came in the form of his eyes, the once vibrant, cool eyes had become empty black pools that held no flicker of soul inside them. It was if Atlas had slowly bargained away his soul until there was nothing left behind.

Tim places two shots on the bar and begins to pour scotch into them. “Don’t, I won’t be joining you,” Atlas flatly stated.

Tim’s hand trembles at the harshness, but does as asked. With a heavy hand, Tim puts the glass away and takes his drink in hand. “What brings you here?” Tim asked, before swallowing his drink down.

“I need you to keep this for me,” Atlas said as he retrieved a small parcel from his inner coat. Tim glances down at the parcel and frowns. Before Tim can refuse, Atlas says, “I need you to give this to Victoria, should her mother ever be killed.”

“And if she isn’t?” Tim asked.

“Then discard it,” Atlas replied, before turning around.

“Atlas, you’ve aged, life has been harsh on you. Have a drink on the house for old times’ sake, just to take the load off?” Tim hesitantly suggested.

“I don’t accept drinks from strangers,” Atlas curtly answered without turning around. Tim’s face is filled with desperation as he watches Atlas disappear up the stair with the solemn certainty, he would never see Atlas again. Tim could do nothing more than safeguard the package and wait. Waiting and hoping that day would never come, because surely, whatever was inside was a double-edged sword. But the pertinent question was would one risk taking a bite out of the poisoned apple?

Tim blinks rapidly as the memory fades and he came to himself. #017 carefully eyes the older gentlemen for any signs of being senile. “I am here for my father’s last words. I was told it would be in your care,” #017 drily stated.

Tim is quiet for a moment, before solemnly answering, “I’ll go and grab it, it’s in the back. Please have a seat in the meanwhile.” Tim disappears around the back as #017 frowns and remains standing where she is at. A few minutes later, Tim returns with the small package and carefully slides it across the bar towards the gray-haired young woman that so greatly resembled her father.

#017 studies the package for any signs of the package having been opened or tampered with but fails to find anything amiss. Somewhat satisfied with her inspection, #017 opens the small package up. To her surprise, #017 finds a single white card carefully placed in a glass case.

#017 carefully opens the case and reads the following words, “Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon.” “Yea, though I walk through the valley of shadow and death, I-, fear no evil.”

#017 pulls her emergency lighter from her pocket and holds the lighter under the note. The note swiftly burns in her hand as #017 drops the burning remains into a cigarette holder. The note swiftly turns to ashes and becomes completely charred beyond any recognition. #017 turns away and moves to leave, when Tim speaks, “Victoria, I don’t know what Atlas left behind for you, but you needn’t accept his poisoned gift.”

#017 turns to glance back at the bar owner and narrows her eyes. #017’s eyes widen after a moment in recognition and coldly answers, “Tim Montgomery, you abandoned your family and duties to own a recognized neutral grounds and a bar at that. I do not believe you are in any position to be doling out advice.”

Tim flinches at the cold words being stated. Tim drily states, “Victoria, you are most certainly your father’s daughter.”

“I have been told that several times before, but lately I find that is a compliment,” #017 truthfully answered, before climbing up the stairs.

Tim’s hand trembles as he suddenly hears a haunting voice from long ago whisper menacingly into his ears, “Timothy, I promise that you will rue this day one day! Someday, you will see the ruins of your escape and when that time comes, I wonder if your freedom will truly be worth it in the end?!”

*

#017 climbs into the car and says, “Drive.” 56 kicks the car into gear as Mr. Wilkins studies his girl’s thoughtful face, but finds nothing amiss. The car drives off as #017 murmurs, “Take the left at the interstate.”

56 frowns and says, “But that leads us back towards the airport.”

"I know,” #017 drily replied.

“Okay, so can I know where we are going?” 56 asked.

“We’re going home,” #017 replied. 56 let’s out a sigh of exasperation and does as she is told. Mr. Wilkins happily makes travel arrangements as they drive. After all, Mr. Wilkins was his girl’s bear and Jerry was his girl’s flunky and by default his as well. So, there wasn’t anything wrong with ordering Jerry around.