After I had completed my morning routine, I trotted down the stairs that lead to the living area. The wonderful aroma of home cooking wafted through the house, telling my brain that Eliza was awake. She must get up pretty early to beat me downstairs, and cook breakfast too. I glanced at the clock that sat high on the wall. Even now it was only just seven o'clock.

I walked through the wide open door-frame and into the kitchen where the scents resonated significantly. A smile spread across my face as I sat at the table. I watched Eliza as she chopped up some assorted vegetables on the counter, debating on whether to speak or not. It seemed as though she had not yet noticed my presence in the room.

"Guten Morgen, Eliza," I spoke, softly smiling, as I did nearly every morning. I didn't think about whether she could understand my language. Flinching slightly, she looked up from her work at me, giving a subtle, innocent smile that made me feel just a little jumpy inside.

"Good morning, sir." Her light, blondish-brown hair was braided today, and it lay over her shoulder. Still, it fell to her waist. A strand of her bangs hung over her forehead, like it always did. She was dressed in the same black dress that she always wore, but had a little apron tied securely around it.

After I had finished eating, I was off to work. With leisure time, I strolled down the sidewalk, taking in every possible detail that I could. The birds of autumn were just beginning to chirp, the sun barely peeking over the horizon to shine through the trees. I had many neighbors, it seemed, as I passed their houses. I assumed that all new members of Group 935 were issued a house and a personal servant. I wondered if they were all like Eliza.

I remembered having a servant at my home when I was very young. She was an older lady, by the name of Agatha. She would fix our food, clean our rooms when they needed it, and do basically what Eliza did. My sister treated her like a dog, Agatha this, Agatha that. I never took kindly to the way my mother and father talked to our servant, but I tried to make up for it when I could. Occasionally I left her a note expressing my appreciation, and it always seemed, on those days, that my room was extra clean when I came home from school. Although I'd grown up with a servant, I hadn't really adapted to the idea of having someone work and get nothing in return.

I glanced down at my pocket, taking the silver-chained watch from the pouch. 7:40 sharp. I was twenty minutes early. I smiled to myself as I turned the corner, taking my time as I sauntered the rest of the way to work.

Eliza's POV

Dear Tank,

I miss you more now than ever. It has been months since I have seen your face. How have you been? I am writing to see how things are going in America... over here things are heating up, by the way Maxis and the others are talking. They are developing new weaponry, Sophia tells me, to prepare for war. I'm scared, Tank. Ever since Maxis brought me here I have had this horrible feeling about me, like something's going to go wrong. I can't explain it, it's just a feeling... but it's a bad one. On the plus side... I think you were wrong about all Germans... they aren't all as horrid as you say. My master is the exact opposite. He is kind, mannerly, and good-willed. I know if you could write back you would tell me that it's all just an act, and it probably is. But I'm glad to have someone to compensate for you, and to keep me company. Anyway... I have to get back to wiping the windows. I miss you Tank... Please come for me soon.

Sincerely,

Eliza

I stared at the sheet in my hands for what seemed like hours, thinking of other things to write. I wanted to tell Dempsey about where I was, and who I'd become, but I could not bring myself to scrape the pencil's tip across the parchment.

I crumpled up the paper and threw it in the trash can, like I always did. I couldn't send my letters, Group 935 would never allow it. I rose from the wooden chair at the table and glanced at the clock. Barely ten. Picking up a clean rag and some soap, I began to scrub the windows free of scuff marks and cloudiness, though it really wasn't necessary. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day. Oh how wonderful, I thought, the sun's rays would feel on my back, warming my insides and kissing my skin with a bright autumn glow.

But it was too risky. I was the most infamous of servants. I am Eliza Washington. Everyone around here knew that name. I could be shot on the street if they caught me out. Trying to escape, they'd tell Maxis. And he would nod and continue his work like nothing ever happened.

I fought hard to close the flood gates of memories, but it was in vain. Maxis told me I wasn't allowed to say anything about my family, or where I came from, to anyone. I had rules and regulations, as well, just like Mr. Richtofen.

It was in May when I got here. I've been here for almost four months now. The sky was dark and redolent of sadness on that day, I remember like it was yesterday.

Maxis pulls me by the arm and gets in my face, muttering a few words that I do not hear, and shoving me through the door of the house, slamming it. I look around the large room and start to cry. I have been taken from my home. Taken from my freedom. I run to the door, begging Maxis to let me go, take me back to America where I belong.

"Shut up and stay in there, or i'll chain you down in the basement and you'll never see the light of day again!" I know he's not kidding. I've seen him do it before. I have no choice but to explore the house, tears streaming down my face and chills running down my spine. Loneliness. Pain. Regret. I made it up to the attic where there lay a cot. And there I stayed until the next day, then the next day, and the next.

The windows look crystal clear now, as I recollect the events of that day. I all but clench my fists as the redundant slogan of Group 935 rings in my head. To Improve the Human Condition. They're all but destroying it.

Richtofen's POV

"Richtofen, could I see you in my office for a few minutes?" Maxis's voice came into existence and distracted me from my research. Unbeknownst to me, he'd been standing there for quite some time.

Although I was reluctant to interrupt my reading about German engineering, I deemed that Maxis would not have intervened were it not for good reason. "Of course, Doctor Maxis." I stood up from my desk and followed Maxis toward his office.

Maxis's office was smaller than I had expected. It had a wooden desk right in the middle, papers scattered over the surface, a lamp, and a fireplace that sat just behind it. It was not my idea of neat, but I assumed that the man didn't spent much time here anyway.

"Doctor Richtofen," he said, breaking the silence. "We need to talk about your servant."

I raised an eyebrow at the caution in his voice. "Eliza?" I asked, to make sure I had understood correctly.

"Yes. I think you should know a few things about her. Please sit down." Maxis motioned to a seat in front of his desk, which I took. Filling the seat on the other side, he took on a serious, yet painful expression.

"Is something wrong, Doctor Maxis?" I asked.

He was silent as he took a deep breath, seemingly collecting his words. "Eliza," he began, "is not all that she seems. If fact... you might say she's a little more."

I listened to the distinct syllables in Maxis's voice, and the odd stressing of his words. It seemed as though they had venom dripping into them.

"Dr. Maxis-" Suddenly, an alarm sounded, blaring against my eardrums and cutting off my words. Flinching slightly, my eyes snapped toward Maxis, who was already bolting towards the door.

"Stage 2 security breach, all available parties to the containment unit!" The voice on the intercom sounded like Sophia's.

My mind went into turmoil, and my thoughts scrambled. Jumping out of my seat, I could only think of following Maxis, who was already scurrying down the hallway. Swiftly, I caught up to his stout form. No words were exchanged, just the frantic breaths of Maxis as his white lab coat flowed in his wake.

Within a matter of seconds, we were at the main gate of the facility.

"Doctor Maxis, patient 1277 has escaped! We-" The panicked man was cut off by Maxis's all but trembling voice.

"Well, where is he?" Maxis grabbed the man by the shoulders and gave him a jolt.

"O-outside," The man stuttered.

"Nien, nien," Maxis pushed past the man and out the doors, where there were numerous guards who had their weapons pointed in a synonymous direction. In the middle of the circle of gunman stood a lone soul, which I thought I recognized in some way.

Maxis shouted out to the guards, "Men! End him!"

My eyes widened as the bullets flew toward the man, all but trembling in fear. In the final seconds of his life, his gaze turned to me. And for those split seconds that our eyes met, I could feel some of his pain, the gut-wrenching sting of a thousand machine gun bullets pumping into his body. As the man fell limp, I glanced, in shock, upon his bloody and worn face. It was then that I recognized his face. It was the man I had seen in the Injection Room just a few days earlier.