 Boston had changed. What once had been a vibrant city full of optimism and a piece of cake attitude for the war of the rebellion in turn gray. Countless beggars missing limbs, no doubt veterans, littered the streets. Posters depicting Uncle Sam, Columbian, a colored man, and woman, marching in unison, encouraged all citizens to join the effort. Some others depicted Columbia herself holding a rifle in one hand and a ballot in the other, encouraging women to sign up for service in exchange for the right to vote. Jay grumbled under a breath, cursing the fat cats which would no doubt deny her the ability to cast her vote for having served as a man before the recruitment of women. But what was more prevalent than any other poster was one's advertising mysterious new company which had risen to provenance following the advent of the war. Various different posters and a rainbow of colors depicted men in uniform with bizarre contraptions replacing their limbs. They were advertised as the pinnacle of craftsmanship and alchemy, an odd mixture to be sure, but she sneered at the thought of how much money Anderson must be making and gazed at her stump as she continued down the filthy streets of Boston. An hours march later she stood across the street from her home. Jay sighed a bittersweet relief as she ran across the dirt road. Her heavy boots thudded against the creaky wooden steps as she bound with excitement. Her knapsack hit the porch and she reached for the doorknob. The smile which had briefly lived on her face faded upon the realization that the lock had been removed. Nick, she called out to her brother in the false masculine tenor voice she had trained herself to speak in. Dread pulled in her minus. Her only hand trembled at the doorknob. There was no answer. Not even the familiar barking of their dog. Had they left her? Couldn't be. She had received a letter from him a few weeks ago and he'd promised he'd be ready for her arrival. Hesitantly, Jay turned the knob and the door slowly creaked open. The faint outline of a man was visible in the kitchen. He sat with his feet up on the table. Ah, Justine Everwood. Please, come on in. The man beckoned her over his unfamiliar accent sitting his shiver down her spine. Justine? She almost slipped back into her natural voice. No, I'm Jay. You must be confusing me with my sister. She died a few years back. No, I know exactly who you are. Now please, come on in. The voice was confident in itself, menacing yet polite. He spoke like a man who wielded true power and not wanting to upset him, Jay entered her house and shut the door behind her. Who are you? That is not important at this moment, Ms. Everwood. The man leaned back, removing his feet from the table. He appeared to shovel for a moment as she weirdly approached. By the time she took her seat across from him, the gas lantern on the table was eliminating the stranger. His head was completely shaved and his expression was unenthused. There were several scars visible along his face and he was built like a lumber worker. What do you want from me? Where's my brother? Oh, that is not important at this moment, Ms. Everwood. Please take a seat. Good, now Ms. Everwood. I'm with the Union government and if you're here to arrest me for joining the army with a fake identity, just do it already. Jay spat defiantly, not bothering to mask her voice any further. The man wheezed with laughter for almost a minute, which felt like an eternity to her. She would have been mad, but confusion had overtaken her senses. Oh no. Ms. Everwood, we don't give a damn about that. The army is full of idiots, so I'm not surprised you fooled them as long as you did. I'm not here to bring the law down on you. I'm here to talk to you about the 680-second Calvary. She tensed up, color washing away from her face. You should consider yourself lucky. You're one of five people who have survived them so far, but the first one to be able to speak after the fact, the man leaned forward, holding his hands on the table. I need to know everything you know about the 680-second. They shared another silence for what felt like an eternity. Jay had tried her best to suppress any thoughts of that fateful day, but she had failed. The memories of the screams, spilling scarlet, stomping, and slashing sabers would haunt her to her last breath. Were it not for the likelihood of her brother being in danger, she would not have even agreed to recount the tale. It was about a month ago. I remember my unit and I were marching to reinforce the forces at Spotsylvania, but we got ambushed by them. Most of us had thought they were just a myth to scare new recruits. I mean, an entire Calvary unit of black horses and riders. You can't see their faces up. Come on, that's crazy. The man nodded. Yeah, so it first came up from behind hill, and I swear it was sunny until they showed up. There was this smoke, kind of like a coal train smoke, but it kind of made me sick. It spooked all the horses we had, and it made it look like heaven was about to come crashing down on us, and then they charged. Jay grew silent. The man nodded again, waiting patiently. Sorry, I... She removed her cap, placing it on the table, and ran her hand through her short hair. Okay, I'm okay. They charged, and it sounded like a thunderstorm or something. I've never heard anything like it. The man lived their first barrage while we were still getting ready to defend ourselves. I got hit in the arm, and I collapsed from the pain, and I didn't see much of anything else. But I felt it when that arm got trampled. Jay reached for an empty sleeve, tugging at it idly. And what happened then? I passed out. I don't know how long I was out for, but I got picked up by the army of the Potomac, and the doctor was a kind soul. She had one of those prosthetic faces. I don't remember much about the days after I just spent most of them asleep. Next thing I knew, I had my arm hacked off, and I was on a train back home. Very well. The man leaned back, folding his arms and observing as Jay struggled to keep herself together. Just two, maybe three more questions. Would you be able to identify the 682nd Calvary from a distance if given the opportunity? I will never forget what I saw, and given the chance to stop them, would you? I'd be lying if I said I was a diehard loyal to the Union. I'm not out for revenge. I'm not trying to fight for any ideals. I joined because my brother and I needed to make a living. I couldn't find a job, and he's slow. This was a yes or no question. Would I be compensated, as one would for any job? How much? More than your discharge pay. Now, what do you say? Yes. The man turned around, reaching behind him to grab a sleek brown box. It was decorated with an eagle, and the letters AP were painted on it in royal gold. He gently placed it on the table, then lifted the lid to reveal a prosthetic right arm. It was made of refined steel, bearing runes and inscriptions on it in red ink, elegantly painted in gorgeous patterns. There was even a very comfortable velvety cushion to place between her stump and the cold metal of the device. Put this on so we can shake hands. The name is Agent Lombardi. Welcome to the Union's Investigation Unit, Ms. Everwood. And I forgot to mention, we'll be taking care of your brother, so you don't need to worry about that either. Jay stared at the arm, then at Lombardi. And where is Nick? At headquarters, probably eating lunch. He produced a pocket watch, flicking it open and checking the time. Come on now. We don't want to keep him waiting.