This first chapter is dedicated to Schapelle Corby, in which the music from the television event literally inspired me to write this story. She also taught me to stay strong, even under unjust circumstances.

1: The Arrival

It is almost midday, and despite the expectation for the pressing heat, a chilly wind rudely brushed past Clancy Odessa, making her rub her exposed arms, where the small mounts of goosebumps started to form.

Clancy stared ruefully up at the building, slowly beginning to doubt her sources, the new interior design was supposedly more modern. But she couldn't help let a twist of doubt coil inside of her as she glared up at the crumbling brick structure.

She was wearing a cobalt cotton shirt with faded jeans and worn-out thongs, her tawny hair was twisted into a disordered bun with little strings falling out. Her dark eyebrows gathered above the bridge of her slender nose, and her mouth poised in an expression of judgemental disbelief.

Dropping her bags she turned to flag down the retreating taxi, it's city-like structure not meant for the crumbly driveway.

"Clancy! Your here!" The voice, Clancy's muscles tensed, a deep pain spread inside of her almost made her drop to the ground. Pattering steps crunching against the gravel, slowed as they reached her.

Clancy turned, expecting to see blonde hair in ringlets, blue eyes like the cerulean sea on a perfect day reflecting the clear sky, the brightness and youth shining in them. To see her smooth and rosy cheeks and the floral dress with the pale blue flowers and lace at the hem. Just like the day she died.

Not died, disappeared.

Clancy glared at the newcomer, a child of about six, her thin, curly hair tied back with a white satin ribbon. Her features downsized into a small, undernourished body. Clancy had a fleeting thought of the principle character in Annie, the small orphan.

"I've been waiting for you to arrive for hourrrrrs," as she spoke she raised her thin hands but with the last words she forcefully let them drop, "your mama said you were coming in the morning, but it's afternoon, and your very late. I think she wouldn't be happy if she wasn't so busy, there are still more orphans coming in, but we call them unprivileged children," Clancy was surprised at the excessive movement of hand gestures and the rise and fall in pitch. "Your mum said for us to call her big momma, I think that would be funny in class,

'Jessika are you here?'" She stepped to the left, rising in pitch to imitate the "Big Momma,"

"'Yes Big Momma,'" she replied in a mock sing-song voice, she snickered.

"Is your name Jessica?" Clancy asked softly, letting the glare slowly melt away.

"Yes. No, Jessica with a K,"

"Oh,"

"Do you want me to show you around?"

"I guess,"

Jessika picked up the smaller bag of the two, dragging it to the building, letting it twist and groan behind her. Clancy followed, unsure of the child's excessive behaviour.

Jessika was thrilled, showing Clancy to each station and moving onto the next before Clancy could properly process each area. She ticked off the names of people as they passed, anywhere from toddlers to young adolescents, which seemed to be the deadline of where children left the orphanage.

Jessika blabbered on about drills, codes of conduct, settings and formations. Clancy knew she should've been listening but something about receiving information from a six year old to an almost fifteen year old seemed a bit off.

Jessika motioned towards another toilet. While going on about the great idea of not mixing girl and boy rooms. She proved her point by claiming to witness a moment where a group of female unprivileged children  were indulging in interaction with a group of adolescent males. She launched into a strong summary and ending with a shake of her head and in an elderly voice, "children these days!"

Clancy wondered where the child's strong vocabulary came from, it was almost like her parents were English teachers.

Was. She reminded herself, most of the children here don't have parents at all, on that note Clancy made a mental reminder to look upon Jessika's files later.

Surely they would have some information.

Jessika handed her a slim, pearly-coloured card with a single strip of black running down the length of the card.

"This is your access key, since your Mummy is high-tech and really rich she can afford to do this, these cards are your access key to classrooms, hallways, rooms and even to leave and enter the orphanage, how much access you have is limited to what age or ranking you are. Every time you scan this card, it sends information back to the database, so the teachers can track kids down in an emergency,"

Clancy wondered why her mother bothered to spend money on such hi-tech security.

"Your room is A5, up these stairs, you will need to scan your access card, first at that door and then to get into your room, I'll be in your grade four English class,"

"Aren't you only six?" the words spilled out of Clancy's mouth, she immediately regretted them, as the look of hurt spread across Jessika's face.

"No," she said softly, her strong and outward personality receding like the weakened wakes upon the soft sand, almost whispering, "I am seven, my parents before they died, told me that I was going to do great things, and I will, I'm going to cure countless diseases, create vaccines and solve world problems. I'm going to go to Mars, colonise that and many other planets, but the one thing I will do is make my parents proud,"

This small child surprised Clancy, dainty and fragile but determined with motivation to make her parents proud by solving humanity's greatest problems. Clancy wanted to tell the child that the possibility of her solving every problem that mankind ever had was a far greater feat for any child to undertake. But before Clancy could reply the child ran up the empty hall, the fleeting glimpse of a lemon dress before she turned away.

Clancy pressed her pearly card to the scanner of room A6. Once again the red light flashed, huffing in frustration she pushed against the door. No luck. She slumped against the opening a pitiful moan escaping her lips.

Two teachers came down the hallway, steaming cups of brew in their delicate hands. They stopped their conversation at the sight of the newcomer.

"Clara right? Your the new English teacher? I'm Jennifer May, welcome to Mavery's Orphanage," the woman on the left held out her manicured hand.

"Clancy, my mum's name is Clara," Clancy accepted the hand with a strong grasp.

"Are you having trouble? Your room is A5 right?"

Clancy felt like slapping herself for her stupidity, but maintaining a neutral tone she shook her head.

"Nah, just got here, my guide was a bit..." Clancy paused searching for the word, biting her lip.

"Motivated? Overpowering? Jessika is a bit like that," Jennifer laughed, a dainty sound like her slim figure.

Silence filled the air, both looking at the other, expecting a new topic or at least a starting sentence.

"We better go, make sure you are prepared for everything, the children here can be quite," she made a quick hand gesture which made no sense to Clancy, "different, impatient,"

She gave Clancy an encouraging nod then whisked down the lavish hallway, shadowed by the other female.

Clancy cursed when she heard the click of a closed doorway, pressing her palm to her forehead. A5.

Clancy swiped the ivory card to room A5 this time the light turned a bright green, she pushed her way into the room.

Lavishly furnished with the finishing touches of a multi-millionaire apartment. It was nice but not homey, almost as if to say this is my place and it is purely my decision if you stay or go. It was something Clancy was sure her mother would of though of, she was willing to bet her bank account on it, however meagre the overall summary was.

Clancy removed her shoes, scanning the room. A leather couch looking towards a small HD television, a glass table that seated two, a simple kitchen with just enough space for a stove and a fridge. The flooring and bench tops were a polished bluestone, setting the room into a dull grey.

A bedroom with a joining bathroom hid behind French doors, the sheets pristine. Clancy removed her shoes, pushing away the blinds to allow some more light to flow through.

A map and a spare room card sat on the greyish bench folded together. Clancy scanned the map, making mental notes to where each of her classrooms were.

Suddenly feeling bored she sat on the couch, opening her laptop to review Monday's first lesson. An e-mail icon showed a more detailed version of the week's curriculum. She started downloading the file when the computer turned blank.

"What?" Clancy muttered, tapping the mousepad a couple of times.

The screen turned black, slowly forming a grainy image. It was a figure, in a dark mask, with dark, hard eyes. Subtitles scrolled at the bottom of the screen.

Clancy Odessa, this is a message of warning.

Two years ago your sister Clair Odessa disappeared

You believed she was dead

She is not

The figure on the screen moved to show a frightened child, messy ringlets, frightened eyes, despite the image being in a trashy image, Clancy knew the figure's character better than her own.

To ensure her survival you must complete a number of tasks

"How do I know that your not lying?"

The feed is being recorded live, so no matter how hard you try you or anyone else will not be able to trace it. It also means that to complete this task we must have at least your sister to prove our point.

Clancy got the feeling that they weren't bluffing.

Currently we are accessing your webcam, this is how we determine the fate of your sister...

Clair Odessa had disappeared one Friday night whilst at a fast food restaurant. She was there with some of her friends attending a celebration. All four of them disappeared.

Clancy knew she was alive.

But her friends weren't.

Clancy knew that her sister was alive, even when the melancholy officer told her that the odds of her sister being alive were quite low. The contorted bodies suggested a brutal and painful death. Clancy had left the table after the unnecessary detailed description of Clair's friends current status.

But Clair was still alive, so  she cherished that feeble flame, protected it from the storm. It eventually went out, dulled with time, she did not notice the absence, not for a awhile. Clancy thought of this as coming to terms of her sister's disappearance and replaced it with death.

Clancy clutched the sheets tighter, the first delivery would come tomorrow, tools to assist in her first task. Clancy thought about the figure on screen, identity cloaked in darkness and scarred by the grainy image. Grudgingly Clancy opened the laptop again, opening the application that held every child's information, hair, background, disabilities, connections, down to fingerprints and DNA.

Jessika. Clancy typed.

An image came up, a thin girl with a smile that showed her pearly teeth and dimples, the spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

Jessika lived under the care if her parents, Jiran Felci and Limo Felci. Jiran ran for president and has been in the democratic business for over six years. Limo held an occupation as a high school English teacher. Jiran and Limo were brutally murdered with Jessika in the same room watching her parents die. For several weeks after the murder Jessika was held for ransom, after failing to pay the ransom, the kidnappers released her near Junangi, she was found, with some degree of damaged mental health and was taken to hospital, but was later taken to Mavery's Orphanage.

Clancy exited the Orphan Profile and instead looked at her chores for the week, which were expected of every resident at the orphanage.

Clancy Mavery

Work Schedule

External Guard watch. Monday 4:30-6:30pm, Tuesday 4:30-5:30, Thursday 4:30-5:30pm

Classes. Monday 9:00-2:45, Wednesday 9:00-2:45, Friday 9:00-2:45

Harvest. Saturday 9:00-12:00

Landry. Sunday 6:00-7:00am

(Times are subject to change)

Clancy frowned at the chores that clashed with some of her meals, most of them tended to be in the afternoon, except for her classes, which ran the majority of the day.

She laid back on her bed, rubbing the end of the silken nightie between her thumb and forefinger, a habit that didn't seem to end. She looked at the silken shades, filtering the light for a peaceful morning awakening but providing enough privacy for any daring boys.

Clancy ran the details through her mind, all she had to do was take the sixteen shopping bags filled with the unknown substance to the delivery number which she had written on a sticky note pad. The white van used to transport the items was supposed to be in her allocated parking lot.

It was a simple task, but if she was caught, it would be a sticky situation.

AN: Thanks for reading, I know this chapter was quite long, so I'll try and managed them a bit better next time.