Sometimes You can Still Loose, Even If You Really Try

It was a dark, stormy night. Except that it wasn't really night. It was actually just after sunrise. So it wasn't really dark either, it was dawn. Nor was it stormy. It hardly ever rained in the first place, and especially not at the start of summer.

Though I was still tired, I forced myself into the kitchen, and started the coffee. I squinted, trying to block out the already-too-bright sunlight streaming through the window.
I glanced into the living room. There was the Teefer, sitting criss-crossed on the floor, reading a magazine. She looked casual, composed, more so than the previous night.


I'd never seen her cry before. But when I got home that night, I heard sobbing coming from the bedroom. Undignified sobbing, undoubtedly the worst noise in the world. It was though she wanted to scream, but wouldn't allow herself to. Though I wanted to turn around and leave, I couldn't. Instead, I went in.

And there she was, sitting on the bed, both hands in her tear-plastered hair. Her face was not tear-stained, it was soaked.

I was flabbergasted by her appearance. She had always been even-tempered, almost stoic.

I couldn't even begin to guess what was wrong. I couldn't even ask.

A moment before my hand reached out to comfort her, she noticed me. The Teefer took a deep breath, ceasing her crying immediately, though her chin still quivered. She rubbed her eyes several times, smearing

Unable to speak, she laid down on her side, away from me.

Somehow, I must have fallen asleep. I woke up in the empty spot on the bed.

I wondered if she'd even slept at all. I opened my mouth to get her attention. Nothing came out, and I realized that she was focusing too hard on the magazine.

"Good morning," I finally said.

She glanced up at me.

"What was the meeting about?" I asked. That had to be it. Something that happened at the meeting. New Betterham and Fernheaven officials had gotten together, though the topic was confidential.

"LOLA," she answered, going back to her magazine.

I blinked. "Your daughter?"

"No, the idiots who gave birth to her. The Lost Americans. 'League Of the Lost Americans.'"

"Aren't those the guys with the trains?"

"Yeah. They've got a huge following out East. Basically, they're a huge army. Their sole purpose in life is to fight nations, loot the supplies, and imprison any survivors. With every nation they attack, their army gets stronger."

"But if they're out East--"

"Believe me, they are coming our way at an impressive rate, considering the circumstances. What you have to understand is, unlike the rouges, loners, and wild cards, LOLA is a serious threat to our nation. We don't have nearly the manpower that they do -- nor the infrastructure."

"Wh- What are we going to do?"

She muttered something. When I asked her to repeat herself, she looked up, though she still wouldn't meet my eyes.

(TBC)