Chapter 93: Hellish Training & Death, Improvements, And The Angel That Could.

The first day in the arena was hell incarnate, a gruesome descent into brutality that seemed designed to shred body and soul alike. Guldrin and Shiro faced their phantasmal opponents with initial determination, but that resolve quickly crumbled beneath the unrelenting savagery of Yoshimitsu's blade and King's fists. Oh, and death, lots and lots of death.

Every clash of steel, every thud of flesh against unyielding force, painted the arena with blood and an aura of failure. Yoshimitsu's katana was a blur of precision, its glowing edge slicing through the air and flesh with an eerie hum. 

Guldrin's crimson lightning crackled furiously in defiance, but his every attempt to counter was met with cold, calculated ferocity and brutal efficiency. 

When Yoshimitsu's blade arced down toward him, he barely had time to brace before it cleaved through his shoulder, splitting flesh and muscle with ease. The pain was searing, and his knees buckled as blood poured from the wound.

Shiro's battles with King were equally devastating. 

Each of her lithe, calculated movements seemed like a fleeting whisper against the roar of King's brute strength. Her claws, coated in poison, managed to nick his hide, but his hulking form shrugged off the venom as though it were a mere inconvenience. 

His fists came down like hammers, battering her slender frame with bone-jarring force. 

The sickening crunch of ribs snapping was drowned out only by Shiro's gasps of pain as King grabbed her by the leg, swung her like a lifeless doll, and slammed her into the unforgiving ground. 

Her body crumpled like a broken marionette, her last breath rasping out before death claimed her.

Every time death took them, they were reborn into the arena's ready room, their bodies restored but their minds heavy with the echoes of the pain and failure. 

The reset was merciless, offering no respite, no moment to gather their thoughts. It was as though the arena itself thrived on their suffering, feeding off the blood spilled on its sands.

By the second day, the rhythm of the fights began to shift, but not in their favor; instead how the pain became an accepted reality. 

Guldrin's muscles screamed with exhaustion as he forced his body to move faster, react sharper. The crimson lightning around him burned brighter, but it was a reckless, unrefined power that Yoshimitsu exploited without mercy. 

Every swing of his katana was precise, calculated to maximize agony. When it found Guldrin's torso, it left a gaping wound that spilled crimson rivers onto the ground. His vision blurred as he collapsed, gasping for air, the taste of blood heavy in his mouth.

Shiro's agility, normally a reliable weapon, was becoming a liability. King was learning her patterns, intercepting her movements with devastating blows.

She attempted to feint to his left, but he anticipated the move, his massive hand catching her mid-dodge. He lifted her effortlessly and slammed her into the ground, the impact shattering bones and forcing a scream from her lips. 

Her claws scratched against his arm, leaving faint lines of poison, but it wasn't enough. The arena reset again, the torment beginning anew.

By the third day, the exhaustion became as much an enemy as their opponents. Sleep was a luxury they no longer knew, replaced by the endless cycle of combat, death, and rebirth. 

Their bodies were pristine with each reset, but their minds carried the weight of every brutal death, every glorious shred of agony. 

Guldrin's movements grew wilder, driven by desperation rather than strategy. The crimson lightning that surrounded him flared violently, but it was a chaotic force, easily countered by Yoshimitsu's calm precision. 

The phantasmal warrior stepped into one of Guldrin's strikes, his katana sweeping up to sever his opponent's arm in one clean motion. Guldrin's scream tore through the arena before he fell to his knees, blood gushing from the stump.

"Your power is wasted on someone who doesn't know how to wield it. A warrior who doesn't learn, isn't worthy of the battle." Yoshimitsu sneered, his voice as cold as the steel in his hand coming down to remove his head.

Shiro was faring no better. 

King's relentless assault left her battered and bruised, each punch a symphony of pain that reverberated through her body. She managed to sink her claws into his side, injecting a potent dose of venom, but King's retaliation was swift and brutal. 

He roared, the sound deafening, and grabbed her by the head. With a sickening crunch, he drove her face-first into the ground, the impact shattering her skull. Her body went limp, her lifeless form crumpling as the arena reset once more.

Alisa watched from the sidelines, her expression impassive. "You'll never win if you keep relying on brute force," she said, her voice cutting through the din of battle. "Your power is a tool, not a crutch. Learn to use it simultaneously, or it will destroy you."

Emily, ever the spectator, lounged lazily nearby, her feline form stretched out as she observed the carnage with mild amusement. "You know, for all their screaming and dying, they're starting to look a little less pathetic," she mused, her voice carrying a mocking lilt. "Though at this rate, they'll be mental fertilizer before they're warriors."

Guldrin and Shiro gritted their teeth, their resolve hardening with each brutal encounter. 

The pain was excruciating, the deaths horrific, but they began to notice subtle changes. 

Their movements were becoming sharper, their reactions quicker. 

Shiro's agility was less frantic, her strikes more calculated. 

Guldrin's lightning was beginning to flow with purpose, a controlled current rather than a chaotic storm.

By the fourth day, they managed to land blows that made their opponents pause, if only for a moment. Guldrin's knife found Yoshimitsu's side, the blade sparking with crimson energy as it bit into the warrior's flesh. 

Yoshimitsu staggered, his expression briefly flickering with surprise before he retaliated with a strike that split Guldrin in half.

Shiro's venom was taking longer to dissipate, her claws finding weak points in King's defense. 

She darted around him, her movements more fluid as she avoided his devastating blows. But King was still an overwhelming force, and when he finally caught her, his grip crushed her spine with horrifying finality, and gore, lots of gore.

Their progress was painfully slow, each small victory coming at the cost of countless deaths. 

But they endured, their spirits refusing to break, they knew this was good for them, even if they hated every second of it. 

By the 6th day, they were no longer the same fighters who had stepped into the arena. Their bodies moved with a deadly grace, their powers honed to lethal precision. 

They still couldn't match their phantasmal opponents, but they were no longer the helpless prey they had been.

The seventh day marked the edge of their endurance, a precipice from which they felt they could fall at any moment. 

Guldrin's muscles screamed with every movement, his crimson lightning sputtering and flickering like a dying ember. 

Shiro's limbs were sluggish, her claws dulled from constant use, and the ever-lingering ache of her phantom mangled ribs grated on her psyche. 

But what gnawed at them most wasn't the pain or the fatigue, it was the hollow emptiness in their stomachs and the haunting haze of sleeplessness that clouded their minds. It was getting so bad they had begun to hallucinate; Guldrin saw streaks before and after the sword was swung, and Shiro felt like she could see an aura around King. 

As they stood in the ready room, waiting for Alisa's signal to return to the bloodstained arena, Shiro slumped against the wall, her breath shallow. "I can't do this anymore," she muttered, her voice raw. "I haven't slept in days. My body feels like it's going to shatter into pieces."

Guldrin leaned heavily against the wall, his face pale and exhausted. "She's pushing us like we're some kind of… machines," he growled, his voice low but trembling with frustration. "No food, no rest… This isn't training… it's torture; You are trying to turn us into masochists."

Alisa, standing nearby with her arms crossed, regarded them with a cold, calculating gaze. "You're not human anymore, stop acting like you are," she said, her voice sharp as a blade. "A few days without sleep is nothing compared to what you're capable of enduring. Your bodies are far stronger than you realize. Every real warrior learns to deal with pain, it is all part of the process. Stop whining and win? Or die? Either way works."

"That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt!" Shiro snapped, her eyes blazing with frustration. "Even if we're not human, we're not invincible. We need food. We need sleep. Or we'll collapse!"

Guldrin nodded, his jaw tightening. "We've fought through everything you've thrown at us, but this… We can't keep going like this. I mean, I might be able to after some rest, but even I don't understand why that is."

'Because I messed up, even I don't know what abilities will follow those three chains…' Emily grumbled inside her mind as she floated around.

For a moment, Alisa said nothing. Her expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes, perhaps guilt or understanding, the need to care for and nanny them warring with the need to train them. 

Finally, she sighed and uncrossed her arms. "Fine," she said grudgingly. "You'll get a meal. But don't expect a feast. You're not here to indulge yourselves. I made you food before to help the transition, and now I am doing the same."

Emily perked up, her ears twitching with curiosity. "Ooh, special Alisa cuisine? This should be good, make me some fish." she purred, a sly grin spreading across her feline face.

True to her word, Alisa prepared a meal, but it was no ordinary spread. She retrieved strange ingredients from a hidden space, each item radiating a faint, otherworldly glow. 

A handful of shimmering blue grains, a cluster of leaves that seemed to hum with energy, and chunks of meat that oozed a golden ichor. 

She moved with practiced efficiency, her hands deftly slicing, mixing, and cooking the ingredients over a makeshift flame that burned with an eerie, silver light.

'That is cool… I need to watch, and learn, maybe I can increase my cooking.'

The intoxicating aroma filled the room, a heady blend of sweetness and spice that made Guldrin and Shiro's mouths water despite their exhaustion. 

When the meal was finally ready, Alisa placed two bowls in front of them, each brimming with a vibrant, steaming stew that seemed almost too beautiful to eat.

"Eat," she said curtly. "But don't get used to it. This isn't something you'll be getting regularly."

Guldrin and Shiro didn't need to be told twice. 

They dug in, the first bite sending a wave of warmth coursing through their bodies. 

The flavors were indescribable, a perfect harmony of richness and tanginess that seemed to melt their fatigue away. Each mouthful felt like an explosion of energy, their senses sharpening with every swallow.

As they ate, a strange sensation began to take hold. Their muscles, once leaden and sore, felt lighter, more limber. Their breathing grew steadier, their hearts pounding with renewed vigor. Even the constant ache in their bones seemed to fade, replaced by a faint, tingling warmth.

"What… What is this?" Shiro asked between bites, her voice filled with awe.

Alisa smirked. "Special ingredients. They enhance your bodies, and strengthen your cores. Consider it a reward for surviving this long."

Guldrin paused, his spoon hovering over the bowl. "Why not give us this earlier?" he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

"Because," Alisa replied, her eyes narrowing, "you wouldn't have appreciated it. You needed to reach your breaking point to understand what it means to endure. This isn't a handout, it's an investment. Even I don't have many of these ingredients… Savor it and make good use of it."

As they finished the meal, the effects became even more pronounced. Guldrin felt his lightning crackling more fiercely within him, the energy coursing through his veins with a newfound intensity. Shiro's senses sharpened, her vision clearer, her reflexes faster. Their bodies felt… different. Stronger. More attuned to the relentless rhythm of their minds.

But the transformation wasn't painless. As the enhancements took hold, waves of searing heat swept through their bodies, leaving them gasping and clutching at their chests. Guldrin's muscles spasmed violently, his crimson lightning flaring uncontrollably and leaving scorch marks on the walls. Shiro collapsed to her knees, her claws digging into the ground as her bones seemed to twist and shift beneath her skin.

"What… What's happening?" she cried out, her voice trembling with panic.

"It's your bodies adapting," Alisa said, her tone unyielding. "The enhancements are forcing your limits to expand. Pain is part of the process."

Emily watched with wide eyes, her tail flicking nervously. "You could've mentioned that part sooner," she muttered.

"Where is the fun in that? They are getting a free power-up. Now, shut up and bear with it… Little Mistress." Alisa replied to Emily and curtsied mockingly toward Shiro making her grit her teeth harder.

Hours passed as Guldrin and Shiro writhed in agony, their screams echoing through the chamber. Their bodies burned, stretched, and contorted as the enhancements reshaped them, pushing them closer to the edge of what they could endure. 

But when the pain finally subsided, they emerged changed.

Guldrin's lightning now crackled with a deeper, more menacing energy, the crimson bolts laced with streaks of black. 

His movements were quicker and more precise, and his strength amplified to terrifying levels. 

Shiro's claws glimmered with a faint, venomous sheen, her agility sharper, her reflexes honed to near perfection. 

Her outward transformation was a tab lackluster, but her body was brimming with power.

But their ordeal was far from over. Alisa's voice cut through the silence, cold and unyielding. "Good. You've taken your first step toward becoming warriors. You both are now low-class beings…" 

She tilted her head and looked at their backs. 'No wings? Still?'

"I would say you are now full-fledged low-classes, but neither of your wings has revealed themselves. This isn't normal, most of the time after they go through the blood ritual, they have wings… But I guess we will just have to wait and see… That just means more training, don't think for a second that this means you're ready. The arena awaits."

Shiro groaned, her body still trembling from the transformation. "You've got to be kidding me. After all that, you're throwing us back in?"

Guldrin clenched his fists, the electricity dancing across his knuckles. "No," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the exhaustion that still lingered. "We'll go back. But not because you're telling us to."

Alisa raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh? And why, then?"

"Because," Guldrin said, his eyes blazing with determination, "we've come too far to stop now. If this is what it takes to survive, to protect what matters… then we'll keep fighting. No matter what!."

Shiro nodded, her expression hardening. "Well said, Together. Let's die now so we don't die in the future."

Emily let out a low whistle as she munched on some random giant fish that Alisa fixed, her tail swishing behind her with contentment. "Well, I'll be damned. They've got some fight left in them after all."

As Guldrin and Shiro trudged back into the arena, the sand crunched beneath their feet like a mocking applause. 

Each step sent a twinge of pain through their battered bodies, but they wore matching expressions of determined annoyance. They glanced at each other and smirked.

"Ready to die again?" Guldrin muttered, hefting his knife.

"Just try not to get split in half again," Shiro shot back, flexing her claws. Her venom-dripping grin was as sharp as her wit.

"Yeah, yeah. You're one to talk, Miss 'Spine-Smashed-to-Sawdust.' Let's just survive long enough to make Alisa roll her eyes. Again."

—

–

-

Meanwhile, far, far away from the brutal training, Gabriel, the Archangel of Heaven, the strongest woman in heaven, was on a mission. A very noble and holy mission: finding her new-lost little brother, Guldrin.

Her task began with a simple statement from Sarafall: "He's somewhere in L.A."

To Gabriel, who had little experience with the geography of Earth beyond its role as a backdrop for divine interventions, this was as helpful as saying, "He's on the blue planet." But Gabriel, ever the optimist, teleported confidently to America. That was the easy part.

Usually, she would just activate her ability to find who she was looking for, and then, poof, she is there, or at least she could travel there… But she can't do that since he can't be tracked like that, so she had no choice but to navigate the normal and unfamiliar way. 

Hence, the current situation.

The trouble started when she approached a group of men loitering on a street corner and, in her most angelic tone, asked, "Hello, Good Gentlemen! Could you direct me to L.A.?"

They exchanged glances, their eyes lighting up with the kind of schemes that would make even Lucifer cringe. "Oh, sure, sweetie. We can help you get to L.A. Just come with us."

Gabriel, trusting and radiant, followed. What could go wrong? She was an archangel, after all. She could handle anything.

Unfortunately for the men, their plan to take her to a secluded warehouse ended in catastrophe. When they offered her a drink laced with something sinister, she took one sip, wrinkled her nose, and declared, "This tastes like sin." Then she politely asked them why they were lying to her.

When their response involved pulling weapons, Gabriel sighed, her wings flaring. "Oh, come now. I don't enjoy doing this." She snapped her fingers, and their weapons melted into puddles of slag. 

The men panicked, naturally, but she didn't stop there. What followed was an epic combination of righteous fury, divine smiting, and a scolding so severe that the men ended up apologizing to her for even existing. 

By the end of it, they were a sobbing mess, promising to 'turn their lives around' and 'never touch another shady drink again.'

But Gabriel wasn't done. She learned they were part of a human trafficking ring and demanded they take her to their leader. 

Terrified, they complied. 

At the headquarters, Gabriel strode in like a wrathful goddess, her presence causing even the air to hum with tension. 

The traffickers, oblivious to who she was, attempted to pull the same trick, welcoming her with fake smiles and offering her a drink.

"Really?" Gabriel asked, raising an eyebrow. "Again with the drinks?" Clearly, this had worked many times in the past.

One beatdown later, the trafficking ring was in ruins, its leaders trembling before her as she gave them the scolding of their lives. 

Her words were a torrent of divine admonishment, filled with phrases like, "Do you have any idea how disappointed Father would be?!" and "You should be ashamed! Turn yourselves in immediately! And don't forget to confess!"

The traffickers, were thoroughly cowed and convinced she was a demon.

Because what angel could be this terrifying?

They swore to everything that mattered to them, they'd surrender to the authorities. They fled, crying, while Gabriel nodded in satisfaction.

She spent the rest of the day freeing the captives, healing their injuries, and delivering heartwarming speeches about God's love. 

Many of them found her radiant presence and divine sermons comforting, and Gabriel felt her Father's presence guiding her. This was her true calling, she thought.

But there was just one problem.

She still had no idea where L.A. was.

By the time night fell, Gabriel was tired, hungry, and no closer to finding Guldrin. 

She wandered aimlessly until she stumbled upon a small, quaint church. Its stained-glass windows glowed softly in the moonlight, and Gabriel sighed with relief. 

Surely, this was a sign from above.

Inside, she encountered a young woman, a familiar face.

It was one of the girls she had saved earlier in the day. 

The girl gasped when she saw Gabriel, her eyes filling with tears of gratitude.

"You were the one who saved me!" she exclaimed. "Please, let me help you. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you need a place to stay? I actually take care of this church when the preacher isn't here."

Gabriel, moved by the girl's kindness, accepted the offer. She sat at a modest table, eating the simple but delicious meal the girl prepared. It was the first time all day she felt truly at peace.

As they talked, Gabriel finally asked, "Do you happen to know where L.A. is?"

The girl blinked. "You mean Los Angeles? You're on the other side of the country. It's about 40 hours by car."

Gabriel froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Forty...hours? By car?"

The girl nodded sympathetically.

Gabriel slumped in the worn chair, her white and gold wings sagging like a wilting flower. "Oh, Father, why must this world be so big?" she lamented, her tone a mix of exhaustion and melodrama. 

Her golden locks shimmered faintly in the dim light of the church, but the angel who had faced down legions of evildoers today looked every bit like a child who had lost their way in a grocery store at this moment.

The girl who had taken her in, a bright-eyed young woman named Clara, stifled a giggle behind her hand. The juxtaposition of this celestial being who had saved her with terrifying strength now pouting like a lost puppy was too much to bear. "Maybe I can help you plan your journey? As I said, I am Clara and you save me, let me help you." Clara offered gently.

Gabriel waved her off with a theatrical flourish, attempting to regain some of her dignity. "No, no, I'll manage." She smiled faintly, though her drooping wings betrayed her bravado. A beat passed. Then another. Gabriel's resolve crumbled.

Her aquamarine eyes grew wide and teary, sparkling like dew on a sunlit morning. She clutched her hands together. "Actually… I might need a little help," she admitted sheepishly. Her wings perked up slightly as she added, "I… um… don't know how to get there. Or, uh, how to drive. Or… you know, how planes work?"

Clara's face softened. Gabriel's cluelessness was endearing, like a toddler who had accidentally wandered into a university lecture. "You could fly there, like with your wings, I mean."

Gabriel shook her head dramatically, her feathers ruffling, and she immediately put her wings away. "No, no, that would take forever. I am not supposed to show my wings, my Micheal would scold me, not to mention, I don't even know which direction Los Angeles is! What if I get lost? Or end up in… ugh, Mississippi again?" She shuddered at the memory. "I need a human way to travel."

"Planes are probably your best bet," Clara said, trying to suppress her grin. "But... you'll need money for that."

"Oh, that's no problem!" Gabriel chirped, brightening. She reached into a shimmering pouch that hung at her side and dumped its contents onto the church pew. Wads of cash, hundreds of thousands of dollars, spilled out like a fountain. Clara's jaw dropped.

"I got this from those bad people," Gabriel explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "They don't need it anymore. And I couldn't just leave it there! That would be irresponsible. They'd only use it to do more bad things. So I took it. For justice!" She puffed out her chest proudly.

Clara stared, dumbfounded. "You… just took it?"

"Yes!" Gabriel nodded, her halo glowing faintly in approval of her own actions. "I didn't want to, you know, condone stealing, but I figured, if anyone should have their ill-gotten gains confiscated, it's those jerks. So now…" She held up a stack of crisp bills. "I'll use this for a plane ticket! And donate the rest."

Clara couldn't help but laugh. The angel of righteousness sitting there with a pile of unmarked bills was a sight to behold. "Okay, okay. Let's figure this out. First, you'll need to get to the airport."

"The… air… port?" Gabriel tilted her head, her expression pure confusion.

Clara sighed affectionately. "It's where the planes take off and land."

"Oh!" Gabriel clapped her hands together, delighted. "You humans have such fascinating contraptions. It's like… like a giant bird, but not alive! My siblings don't let me often leave, so I don't know much about this time."

Clara nodded. "Sure? Exactly like that. Anyway, we'll also need to book your ticket online."

Gabriel's excitement faltered. "Book? Online? Is that some sort of spell? I'm not allowed to use magic without permission… Brother would get mad, oh, unless I do it for a good reason and for justice or self-defense or defense of the innocent." She had begun counting on her fingers, listing every reason she could use her magic.

"No, no," Clara said, chuckling. "It just means we'll buy your ticket on the internet."

Gabriel frowned. "What's the internet?"

For a moment, Clara just stared. How could someone not know what the internet was? Then again, she reminded herself, Gabriel wasn't exactly a someone. She was an angel, a real-life angel, probably more familiar with celestial choirs than Wi-Fi routers. 

Taking a deep breath, Clara decided to simplify. "It's like… a magic library, but it lives in computers."

Gabriel gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks. "Humans have a magic library? That's amazing! Father would be so proud of you."

Clara couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks, I guess. Let's just focus on getting you a ticket, okay?"

After some comical fumbling with Clara's laptop, Gabriel accidentally closed the browser three times and nearly bought a one-way ticket to Alaska, but they finally secured a flight to Los Angeles. 

Gabriel marveled at the simplicity of it all.

"So I just give them this… paper thing?" she waved her printed ticket around like a sacred scroll, "And they let me on the plane?"

"Pretty much," Clara confirmed. "But you'll need to go through security first."

"Security?" Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "Is this… another test? Do I need to fight someone? I can fight someone."

"No, no fighting!" Clara quickly interjected, horrified at the thought. "It's just a check to make sure you're not carrying anything dangerous."

Gabriel looked offended. "I'm an angel! I would never carry anything dangerous." She paused, reconsidering. "Unless you count the Sword of Divine Wrath that my brothers insisted I take if I leave, but that's strapped to my back. It doesn't count, right?"

Clara groaned. "Yeah, you're definitely not bringing that. In fact, I don't think I can let you go alone… I will book a ticket too and accompany you." She had the face of someone on a mission, and Gabriel couldn't bring herself to refuse when it would really help her if she did come.

Clara decided she couldn't let Gabriel navigate the airport alone. The angel might accidentally declare herself a celestial being and cause an international incident. So, armed with snacks and a large dose of patience, Clara accompanied Gabriel to the airport.

From the moment they entered, Gabriel was a whirlwind of wide-eyed wonder. "Look at all the people!" she exclaimed, spinning in circles. "Are they all here to fly?"

"Yes," Clara said, grabbing Gabriel's arm to keep her from colliding with a businessman who looked very unamused.

"And look at that giant… bird statue!" Gabriel pointed to a plane visible through the terminal windows.

"That's an actual plane," Clara explained, exasperated. "You'll be flying in one of those."

Gabriel gasped. "It's beautiful."

The TSA checkpoint was predictably a disaster. Gabriel insisted on trying to walk through the metal detector with her sword, which earned them a swarm of very alarmed security guards. Clara frantically explained that it was a "replica" for a cosplay convention, and after some tense negotiation. 

And Gabriel's heartfelt apology for causing trouble.

They were allowed to continue.

By the time they reached the gate, Clara was ready to collapse. Gabriel, on the other hand, was bouncing with excitement. "This is so thrilling! I'm going to fly like a human! I can't wait to see Los Angeles and find my little brother."

Clara smiled despite her exhaustion. "You're really something, you know that?"

Gabriel beamed. "Thank you! You're wonderful too. I couldn't have done this without you."

As the boarding announcement echoed through the terminal, Gabriel turned to Clara, her expression serious. "I'll never forget your kindness. When I find my brother, I'll tell him about you, and we'll both pray for your happiness."

Clara felt her cheeks flush. "It's no big deal," she mumbled, trying to play it cool. But deep down, she was touched.

As Gabriel boarded the plane, waving enthusiastically from the jet bridge, Clara couldn't help but laugh. 

This angel might be a walking disaster, but she had a heart of gold.

Gabriel, meanwhile, settled into her seat, her wings carefully folded. She gazed out the window as the plane began to taxi, her excitement bubbling over. "Los Angeles, here I come!" she whispered. "Hold on, little brother. Your big sister is on her way."

(Give me your POWER, Please, and Thank You! Leave reviews and comments, they motivate me to continue.)