Alandra Chaisty
Born March 14, 1976
Gravestone Reads: "She was dedicated to helping others."

Gloria Ingram
Born March 14, 1978
Random Trivia: "She will be old enough to have a drink in America on March 14, 1999."

*

Summer, 1992

Alandra watched as her younger cousin contorted herself among the tree branches above with impressive agility. It took several minutes for her to reach the top, but Alandra was contented and happy to watch. Gloria smiled down at her, touch the top, and then rapidly made her descent.

Plopping down in front of Alandra, the 14 year old Gloria beamed up at her. "So?"

"I think you could be in the Olympics someday," Alandra praised and couldn't help grinning. She then ruffled Gloria's hair affectionately. This dislodged a few leaves and twigs. "Your smile is infectious. All I need to do is think of it to lift my spirits when feeling down. Don't ever go losing it, okay?"

*

Winter, 1994

Framed by the hallway light, Alandra stood in the doorway, her golden hair now dyed a shiny blue. The flowing tresses were also gone, having been left behind on the floor of some upscale stylist.

"What did you do?"

"Don't you like it?"

"That's so punk."

"Is it?" Alandra asked, entering Gloria's room and plopping herself down on the bed. "Actually, I wanted to just stop by and visit for a while. I need to tell you that after tonight I'm going to be gone a lot. So, feel free to make fun of the hair all you can since after tonight . . ." Alandra plugged her ears and sang, "La-la-la-la-la."

"What? Why?" Gloria hovered over her sister on her hands and knees.

"You know those people who were helping to train me? Well, they have an important mission. There's a lot of evil people in this world, and I can use my powers to help find them."

"It sounds dangerous."

"Don't worry. I'll be careful. Besides, I'll have friends. I'll be one ally among many. Oh, I know that look. You're still frightened despite my reassurances."

"I'm not frightened."

Alandra nodded and smiled, saying, "I believe you." She could easily feel that her sister truly felt otherwise, and Gloria could easily feel that Alandra knew what she said wasn't true. Yet despite being able to feel what the other was feeling, they still enjoyed the illusion of pretending it wasn't so.

"Listen," Alandra said, "don't even think about joining up to try to follow me. I know the idea of any kind of war repulses you. You couldn't even feed mice to the biology lab's pet snake since you couldn't bear to hurt the mice. I'm doing this to protect people like you. Have some faith in me, okay?"

"Okay."

*

Winter 1995

With a swiftness she could not counter, Vincent's foot slammed into Gloria's stomach. She buckled forward, dropping to her hands and knees. Fighting against the possibility of further embarrassment, she fought back the nausea and the tears.

Putting his hands behind his back, Vincent Bellock slowly walked around her. "Your enemy will not hesitate to strike swiftly and viciously. I cannot say if this is the first time someone has hit you like this, but it won't be the last. You have until three to stand up or I will kick you in the face."

"One, two . . ."

Gloria rose quickly, anger fueling her. Though, she stumbled, not yet being fully prepared, she remained on her feet.

"Next time you fall, you'll have until the count of two."

"I thought this was supposed to be psychic combat training?"

"You can't use your telepathy very well when you're doubled over in agony, can you? As I've said, your enemy will not hesitate to . . ."

"No! Some of them might. However, I never will," Gloria stated both strongly and flatly, and Vincent actually felt a chill run through his spine. What kind, he could not say. The last few recruits he'd been given to train he had drummed out, or they had quit, not living up to his standards. Far too many limp-wristed nellies had been allowed to go into the field under the pretense that they could use everyone they got. Surely, they had a severe manpower shortage. Yet, it was like sending lambs to the slaughter. After all, this was a war, despite what some of his colleagues seemed to try and tell him. And bright doe-eyed do-gooders didn't do anyone any good if they were dead, better to send them home to mommy.

This one might just make the cut, he thought to himself.

*

Her training was complete. Rather proud of himself, Vincent waited in the training room. Still, he was prouder of her. The other trainers and their trainees were also here or about to arrive. This was a time of moderate celebration for them. Though, he saw it more as a graduating of warriors than a cute moment where students hurled little black hats into the air.

He was surprised when he finally did see her walk through the doorway, in a white t-shirt and blue jeans. It really wasn't proper attire for training or graduating, but that wasn't really what threw him.

"Miss Ingram, what have you done to your hair?"

"Vincent, I thought I asked you to call me Gloria." She eyed him with focus, her once dark hair now cascading down her back and over her shoulders as a deep purple river. "I have made it this color so that when I come to Bison's home, he'll know that I come in mourning."

"Well, that's if M. Bison is a fan of studying old Thai meanings of color. This isn't a Shakespeare play. You'll be better served by more training and discipline to reach your goals than displays of obscure symbolism."

"I know, Vincent. I just had to change something about myself. I'm a new me. I wanted to look the part." She thought back to her reaction when she'd first seen Alandra with her new hair coloring. However, she couldn't bear to linger on that long.

"By the way," Vincent said, "I'm pretty sure I've asked you to call me Bellock."

*

The Ingrams opened their door, responding to a friendly knock. A youngish clean cut man stood there on the porch alone.

"Hello, my name is Rupert. I wonder if I might speak with Gloria?"

"She's not hear," Mr. Ingram replied. "She hasn't been home in months."

"I'm sorry. I knew of her cousin Alandra, a very special girl and a quite terrible loss. I wanted to express my sympathies to her. I express them to you and your family."

"Thank you, er, what did you say your name was?" Mrs. Ingram asked.

"Rupert. She was a very special girl, and Gloria is too. Gifted. Ms. Chaisty may have fallen in with the wrong crowd. I'd hoped to reach Gloria to offer help in her coping and an invitation to a special school. I'm not from the same school that took in Ms. Chaisty. I wonder if I might leave this letter for her in her room?"

"You can leave it with me," Mr. Ingram said. "I'm afraid we've had quite enough of people offering special schools and trying to help. Our family would have been better off having never heard of any it, I think. However, perhaps you can answer a question to me."

Mr. Ingram explained, "When we had the difficult task of telling Gloria that Alandra had died, we found her sitting curled up on her bed, staring vacantly at the door. When we told her, she looked at us like she already knew. In fact, she had been like that for several days already. I think, since the actual day Alandra had died. She has never been quite the same since then. We've never seen her smile. Is that part of her wonderful and great power?"

"It is possible that if they were really close that one could sense the other's passing. The grief she felt would have been enormous. She might need a long time to mourn so give her time. Again, I'm very sorry for your family's loss, and if I've brought up bad memories. I should be going now. "

"Yes, you should," Mr. Ingram told him.

Outside the house, Rupert sighed. He didn't have the heart to tell them. If, as now he suspected, Gloria and Alandra had been psychic twins, part of Gloria could have died along with Alandra. Perhaps, that part of her had been inside Alandra at the time or maybe they were just so much a part of each other that losing a part of herself could not be helped. He suddenly felt ashamed that instead of immediately feeling pity, he had instead wondered whether it may have made her stronger rather than weaker.

*

[Four months before the Iron Fist tournaments in Paris.]

Gloria stood with one foot on the rooftop edge. Looking down across the street, she could see the drug den that was most likely operated by Shadoloo.

"Vincent?"

"Yes, Gloria?" He answered, lowering the binoculars from his eyes.

"Have you ever seen Rose?"

"I did once, yes."

"Why doesn't she help us fight?"

"She was the one that brought us knowledge of the enemy, and how to fight them. But, if the enemy knew she existed, they would hunt her and all who follow her down. There is safety in not being considered a threat. She has trained a few in her unique talents, and they train the rest. It is safest that way."

"So, she hides while others do the fighting? She's allowed the community to remain disorganized because she doesn't want to be a target herself?"

"It may not seem like it, but her leadership is still the guiding light of the community."

"Have you ever seen her lead anyone? I never have."

*

Vincent felt truly alone. Waiting in the shadows with a small contingent of those he'd trained in the past, he knew that what they were about to do would endanger them all. Inside the small abandoned office, Shadoloo had Rose. They were about to deliver her and surprise their superiors with the fact of her continued existence, before they snuffed it out that is. Even though he was now hunted by her community, he could not let that pass.

He had seen the Eye in his dreams. He did not know why or how, but it had shown him how to awaken new abilities, abilities that flew in the face of the Soul Power that Rose touted. He had always been a better psychic than an aura user, yet his usage of the Eye had been looked down on despite it having nothing to do with the Psycho Power.

Those Vatican snobs had judged him unworthy in absentee and deemed to strip him of all ability on the bullshit reason that he was a threat to the world. They did this despite many of the community going AWOL to perhaps join a rival cause. It was a splintering, just like Gloria had predicted. Even more numbing to him, Gloria had vanished several months ago. He didn't know if she was dead or had joined that other faction. However, he could not yet bear to join some other cause for to him, that would mean being a traitor. He would continue to fight for Rose, even if he had to do it alone - even if Rose herself tried to stop him.

*

Gloria whisked the length of her trenchcoat behind her and knelt before the throne of Charlemegne. The master was not alone, for a man stood to either side of his throne. At his right was Leo and on his left stood Pippin.

"Gloria Ingram, please rise," Charlemegne said. His body rather leaned to the chair's right arm, as he seemed to be perpetually tired. Yet, the eye painted in the middle of his forward was bright and colorful. It must have been renewed each morning to cover the scar there, she thought to herself. It would have been well-hidden had she not already known it was there.

"Sir Ingram, you are my Olivier. That is what I shall call you henceforth and therefore shall be your new name. Pippin tells me your eye can only be Hauteclere so I shall say you possess the Eyes of Hauteclere. Victory is closer to being ours now that we can combine your sword with Durendal."

"Thank you, my King. You are too kind."

"I have one more thing to bestow to you. We found him wallowing in alleyways, believing himself to be useless."

From behind, Gloria allowed herself to be surprised when Vincent stepped forward.

"I restored to him that which Sargossa had taken away," Charlemegne told her. "Vincent, though I know you once trained the person Olivier used to be, I will ask that you now follow her with loyalty as a soldier and companion."

"You have blessed me with a second chance," Vincent replied.

"Then I shall give you your title and new name. As you were both hunted and stripped of your power by those you followed and because you felt a great resistance to joining with us, I shall call you Ganelon."

*

"My King, as your most trust advisor, I hope that you continue to have faith in me after what I am about to say."

"Yes, Leo. Please continue."

"As you may or may not know, they are calling Gloria the Grand Puppetmaster. Along with her power, her popularity has also increased. Her drive and ambition are eclipsing Roland's. I worry they may eclipse yours. For after we are victorious, we need to formulate a plan to deal with her. I fear you might stand in the way of her ambition."

"Leo, Olivier is a trusted friend and paladin. I have the utmost faith in her. I will not hear anymore talk of betrayal or jealousy. Please, my friend. Have more faith."

Charlemegne was truly powerful. Leo himself was not at his level. What Leo did possess was discipline so he did not think to himself his feelings that Charlemegne was being a fool. For that reason, he tended to think to himself purely in emotion in his presence, lest his thoughts be heard, and it was by projecting his feelings for so long in Charlemegne's presence that had no doubt fueled his King's drive for revenge on Shadoloo which was possibly purely Leo's own. Yet today, no amount of suspicion and paranoia he could project was changing the man's mind. He would let it slide. What should really be most important was vengeance for his brother. Still, some part of him didn't want to view Charlemegne purely as a tool to that end.

*

Fall 1998

Gloria closed the door behind her, Vincent caught a glimpse of a sleeping Roland on the bed. "Come with me now," Vincent said sternly, and they walked down the hallway.

"That man is here because Bison murdered his wife. It was enough to cause him to leave Rose's side and join with Charlemegne, and Rose had raised him since he was a boy. Aren't you worried that he might lose some resolve if he falls in love?"

"Vincent, when did you start thinking more like me and less like you?"

"I . . . It's dangerous for you to be using people like this. You don't feel anything for him, do you?"

"That's more like you. Beyond touch, I feel nothing. I can sense the emotions. I know that they are there. I still can't feel them to experience them. If he gets something more out of it, I'm fine with that. Someone should. You worry about those you can convince with words, Vincent. I'll worry about those I can make sympathetic through their hearts. I'll talk to your later."

Vincent fell behind and watched her walk on. "Oh Gloria, what do you have planned?" Vincent wondered to himself.

*

The man stopped the car and turned to his precocious daughter. "Hon, daddy has to stop for a moment and get something, you sit here and be good, okay?"

The four year old nodded and resumed play with her dolls. The father ran out with a coin in his hand to exchange for a newspaper. Having quickly gotten his paper from the blue dispenser, he turned to see his sedan explode. He was thrown up against the wall of the building. Only when he had pulled himself back up and seen the flaming wreckage did it hit him. Only when he had made his way to the wreck and seen the charred body inside did he scream and not stop. And, only when he decided join her in the fire did strangers restrain him.

Vincent awoke covered in sweat. He had been crying in his sleep. It had been years ago, but the guilt still had not left him. They had taken her instead of him. To punish him, Shadoloo had killed her to teach him a lesson. He was not going to lose Gloria too. She had been his best student, not his daughter, but she was all he had left. He realized he might be irrationally projecting paternal feelings on her, but he could not help it. Since the first day he had started his training, he had felt protective, though surely she didn’t feel it since he was actually tougher on her because of it. Right or wrong, he had no idea. However, he now knew that he was going to have faith in her and not lose her too. Several doubts then swirled through his mind. He refused to acknowledge most of them, but he could not help acknowledging one of those doubts, thought it was now watered down. I will protect her; however, who will protect us?

*

Charlemegne looked quite disappointed as he sat, holding a newspaper in his lap. Roland knelt before him on one knee.

"Explain yourself, Roland," Charlemegne asked.

"None of the rest of us would venture so close to Bison's predicted appearance. When I saw those fighting him about to lose, I realized I could not allow him to claim more victims."

"Roland, you have revealed yourself to Bison. You know what this means?" Charlemegne asked.

"I am now a liability to the cause. Bison will have me hunted down and will try to pry secrets from my mind before killing me."

Charlemegne sighed. "We may not be able to get victory without Durendal. Such a sword, the Lady only passed to you. This is not about you. It affects us all. You must allow us to hide you until it is time."

Leo shouted, "Olivier, approach your king!"

Gloria approached and knelt, whipping her coat behind her.

"You," Charlemegne spoke, "may have doomed us all."

"Why, because I struck an effective blow?"

"We needed to be content to chip away at them, gathering information, before we can strike a final decisive blow! It was not our intention to declare war in between those two moments! Now, they know they have a real enemy. We can't act anymore as we have been acting."

"I joined with you because Rose was happy being ineffective. Don't start sounding like her."

Leo shouted, "How dare you speak to your king that way!"

"Alandra died in Japan. I have cleaned it of Shadoloo for her. It's what she would have wanted. Do not worry, Charlemegne. You will still have your victory. You can hide and I will show Shadoloo that efforts to catch us shall only result in more injury to them. Is it not nearing the time for us to go into Mri Granka and drag out Bison? Have we not gathered the necessary intel. What are you waiting for?"

Gloria rose and walked to Charlemegne. Leo and Pippin both tensed. Gloria lifted Charlemegne's hand and kissed it. "Will that be all, my King?"

"You . . . you may go, Olivier."

"Thank you," Gloria reverently whispered and left.

Charlemegne sat in silence, thinking to himself, "I am waiting . . . for the Lady."