18 Unlisted Tape #4 - The Richgirl of Nothingville [Guardian Lore;Data]

[*Please read the first volume before reading this, this is lore for characters characterization and their past backgrounds.*]

Going back after a week or so of operations, a heavy bag of flesh and sultry powder of sulfur slowly limped towards a door. Old and antique, heavy as it looks as tall as it is, she knocks it three times with a heavy strike. A house, a colossal beast standing a few feet tall. It's massive size too big for only one individual to be living but all its lost, when it is. The door unlatching, it swung open slowly with an eery creak.

'Welcome back, miss.' A lass replied, a young Hispanic lady dressed in rather casual clothes. Other than that, an apron of sorts to cower herself from the much dust and shrapnel that may disturb her cleaning in the darkness she roams of a dimly-lit castle.

With a smile, the flesh developed a more natural face and a smile, glad to see a face that she barely sees, her servant, her maid. 'Nice to see you again, Isla.' The abomination replied as she dragged in a heavy bag filled with weapons and cloth material. 'I got some gifts from the base, both for you and mother. Is she home yet?' The being asks.

The Hispanic woman shakes her head. 'My apologies miss, Madam will be back late today. She has a meeting.' Guiding the tired beast to the living room, she heads to the nearby kitchen to prepare some tea and pre-baked cookies.

'Perfect, just enough time for me to rest. ' Dropping the bag beside her comfy and fluffy sofa, she plops herself as lightly as possible as she hugged herself in the cold fluffiness of false naturalism. 'Isla, could you get me some energy pills? Might be useful for later.'

'Miss, already? Isn't it a little too early. I would do so, miss.' As she replied in a rather pitiful tone, she reached for the highest shelf on a cabinet in the kitchen and took out a medicine box. Unlocking its side cover, she thoroughly checks for a specific brand of energy pills. Finding the one her miss wanted, she locks the medicine box and returns it to its dark cave of a shelf. Closing its door compartment. She then fills a cold freezing glass of water and heads towards the living room. Bending down, she places the glass onto a coaster and hands the amount of pills that the other one needed.

'Thank you, Isla. This will help.' The beast replied with a smile as she gobbles up the medicine and swallows it hard through its rupturous flesh. Sipping the glass of water, gurgling it down, she finished its content and places it back onto its coaster.

'That's all, miss?' The servant asks towards the now energized beast. 'Shall I give you your tea and some snacks now?'

'Yes, please.' She whispered as the beast removed the enourmous shoes she worn by pulling a strand each of a roughly tied lace.

With a sound of footsteps, the servant returns with the blessings for the beast. However the beast was not happy with the current place. 'In my room please, place it by my table there.' The beast ordered.

'Yes, miss.' The servant, Isla replied as she heads up throught a flight of stairs, through many rooms of a hallway, into a dark dead-end. Slowly pushing the door open, she shuffles her way through some wrapped boxes as she places the blessings onto the table. Waiting by, she stood and watch around in-case there's anything to arrange or clean out. Being sparkle clean, she wipes her hands onto her apron and heads back downstairs. 'Everything is prepared miss.' She says as the beast nods slowly as it dragged along the bag it held on tightly.

'Miss, may I carry the bag for you?' The servant asks. With a shake of its head, the servant nods in agreement and heads back to her solemn duty.

Wiggling slowly with the beast's tireless legs, it heads to the room, it lives in. The door wrapped slightly in tape and a few pretty stickers here and there of hearts and shapes, there in the middle of the livery is a calligraphy, hand-painted with indian ink written 'Sherrinford'.

The beast was no more. Upon the removal of its thick flesh and skin, what appears is a beautiful maiden. A maiden with silky blond hair and a curvaceous body. Any man or women would fall prey for her body of hers which perhaps could explain for her disguise in such hideous clothing. Who is this 'Sherrinford'? Why did these lass decided to do such a thing. Well, an explanation is simple. She was just too much of a beauty.

'Home, sweet home. I miss you.' Sherrinford whispers under her lips as she smiles and smells the freshly perfumed room of lavender and roselletes. 'It's been so long, since I returned. This room looks the same but it may need a makeover. A little too girly for its currest resident.' She giggles as she closes the door slowly behind her.

Stripping off her garments, one by one. She ended up in the nude. Waltzing a little forward in a dance, she opens a cabinent drawer and picks out one by one some new skin to wear and layer herself off. With satisfaction, she smoothly and gracefully puts on the clothing as she looks towards a mirror to see if she made the right decision. 'A little tight due to age but still a lovely fit in fashion.' She compliments the mirror's reflection.

'Now...to check on the latest works and eat before the bitch comes home.' Sherrinford mutters to herself in a angry tone as she seats herself by her computer table. Turning on her monitor and her unit of a PC, she snacks on the cookies she was given and sips slowly the tea that gave a wonderful aroma. With a click of a mouse, she taps on some squares on a board before pressing a big key written 'Enter'.

Now logged in. She connects herself to the internet and opens up a browser. What greeted her were tons of notifications from news to comments that she haven't replied to for yours. 'Sighs, forget it.' she sighs, before closing up the notifications and opening a virtual private network in a third-party software. Upon doing so, she reads through many mysterious things in websites that are not accesible to the public eye. No one active, it is now either barely used as most of the members has passes or were just abandoned for its too few to bare minimum of activity. Websites from private documents to drug or weapons boards, she forumned through all. Making sure it is legal to purchase and ship, she makes a few transactions on sites which were still active. Confirming the pay, she smiles to herself before shutting off the PC.

Getting up from her seat, she places the tea set and the plate that held the delicious cookies, and puts it outside of her door, completing her fulfillment. Calling out to her servant, to pick it up, she locks herself in the room. Dimming the lights and closing the curtains. She squats herself to her duffel bag and slowly removes each content one by one. From millitary uniform, to scrubs and from weapons such as guns and blades towards knives. Is this legal to hold? Yes, by her age, she also holds a legal firearms certificate. Did she really need to carry this all the way to her home? No, really she didn't need to. She only did out of boredom, even if it almost got her into trouble with a security guard upon a check-up. Confimrminf herself with a Continuum ID and that certificate she held, that was the reason why she was able to drag this bag along.

Heading to her bathroom, she fills a tub of water before sprinkling in some soapy detergent of various chemicals. Holding the clothes that smelt horrendous and looked muddy to its core, she manually scrubbed and wash it. Eventhough, she had a servant to do this for her. She wasn't as lazy as she is, she wanted to be active and be fit, to do things what commoners usually do, this is why she does a job no bratty imbecile of rich kids would do. That's what she called her older sisters who treated her like shit when she decided to enroll herself onto the army.

Scrubbing and sweating herself off with cleaning her clothes, she then crushes them slowly, to rid of its excess moisture. Making sure its fit and slightly less heavy, she hangs her clothes onto a clothes line in her bathroom. Knowing she was done with her tiresome task, she pours away the filthy water into her toilet bowl before flushing it away. Washing her hands thoroughly with her scented handwash, she then wipes her sweat before squatting herself back to the weapons she left out in public.

Knock knock knock, a noise sounded from outside her room door.

'Who is it?' Sherrinford asks as she gets up once again and strides her way towards the door.

'It's me, your mother.' The voice replied, a rather old and rough voice replied. Sherrinford grinning angrily, she fakes herself a smile and unlocks her door, slowly swinging it open.

With a fake cutesy tone, she replies. 'Hello mor, I am home.' Before regretfully reaching her arms towards her mother and giving her a hug and kiss.

'Welcome back Sher'. It's been too long, tell me how's work?' Her mother replied as Sherrinford stopped hugging and faced her face-to-face.

'It was good mor. Not a single scratch on me. I got to learn a lot of things and got to make some good friends here and there.' She replied.

'Good, good. I got some lovely clothes for you to put on soon if you have the time.... and ...please clean your room! We don't want to see your filthy unholy weapons laying about, you heard me ?!' From a transition of a mellow tone, her mother strickened herself in a very ear-piercing way. A shout towards the millimetres that Sherrinford was in , her ears blared in pain and agony.

('As usual..as always') 'Sure, will do. Mor.' She sighs before picking up her guns and her instruments of battle and chucking it all into her duffel bag again, not bothering to arrange it properly into the metallic cases she had together. ('Why is she still the bloody same? Fuck sakes. I can't put anything out except a lousy bible and/or stupid princess gowns that she buys for no fucking reason.') 'Ughh...' She grunts.

'Did you say something Sher'?' Her mother asked, still standing infront of the entrance. 'I am waiting, there are so many clothes to try out, it will take quite some time.'

Not willing to argue with her penny-waster of a mother, she nods slowly before following her mother to her room, like a dog following its owner's order. 'So, mor? What did you prepare this time?' She fakely asked in curiosity with a smile. Its obvious to her she knows its just going to be another set of tight dresses that she doesn't like or fluffly gowns which looked a tad too girlish for her.

'Quite a plenty, here try this.' Her mother says as she smacks a pink gown to her, looking sick in Sherrinford's eyes, this colour was beyond disgusting, it wouldn't fit for her eyes, not even a highschooler. Its too childish but in her pure walls of an iron will, she sighs before removing her shorts and shirt. Clasping on the dress, her mother zips up her dress at her back before dragging her sluggishly towards a huge carousel of a mirror. 'How beautiful.' Her mother replies. 'It looks cute but its also sexy.' She says.

Inhaling slowly and in the head, murmuring cusses and her ever frustration. She sparks herself with a glee as she nods her head. In a rather squeaky tone she replies how wonderful it was and how cute it would look like. But in her head, she felt like vomiting.

On and on constantly, for an hour or so, The poor lass of a Van der Graff was forced to wear amounts and amounts of unnecessery clothing which only wasted dimes after dimes of her family's fortune as she followed orders from her mother like an excited dog. Now I wonder, why she calls her mother a Bitch. She was one. An ever barking, annoying and never peaceful making, being. The only why her mother became like this was because of her neglect from her older daugthers and her husband who already passed away years before The Happening. Leaving such a big fortune in this family, it's only fair that her family would be so dumb in not knowing how to invest and make use of this money instead of wasting it for unnecessary stuff.

It could be that Sherrinford had more of her father's genes with a mix of a very antural sisterly upbringing, only to be treated harshly by her mother's mentally deficient behaviour of shopping addiction and her sister's rude and snarky attitudes. It made so much sense to why is she always constantly frustrated and eager to escape from home. Even if she does, she has no chocie but to return home, because ... all her money that she owned legally is taken by her family, due to a broken and unfinished will. She is the only angel in a family of demons, her younger mind used to repeat over and over again as she hid in a cupboard as a child, crying over the abuse her three female residence did to her when she grew over the years. Isla, her servant was the only person who treated her well. Working there since forever, knowing who and how her father looks, she took care of Sherrinford when she was the only one there. Like a mother she treated her, she too was abused and treated as a slave of the house. She barely saw the light of day and had to live her life inside this accursed mansion for the rest of her life.

If either Miss Isla or Sherrinford were to pass away first, the opposite would still feel sad, as the two had a bond so close that it felt like she belonged to her. But in certificate, her genes belonging to the demon she knows now as her mother, that wish cannot ever be fulfilled.

In her room, Sherrinford held herself in a clasp, murmering to herself how this thieves are wasting away her own father's and her money as she cussed around and begged for a miracle. Maybe as the wish granted, Griffin summoned out from her crystal and hugs her from behind. Her huge wings, angel like, feathered to the brim wrapped around the soulless lass as she fills her with a resonating hope. 'Don't worry child, don't be sad.' Griffin whispers to Sherrinford's ear softly. 'Something special will happen tonight but I can't say if its a good one or a bad one.'

'What will happen?' She asks as she chins herself to look at Griffin.

'Tch- Tch-..' The bird-maiden replied. 'That's something of a secret. We can't break time for that. You will see tomorrow as your sisters return from their overtimed modelling jobs. I watched over them and read their times. Something will happen, that I will not interfere with.' The griffin whispered with a very truthful and melodic tone. 'You have a chance for a better life, for you and your friend, no, your servant.'

Sherrinford nods. 'I see how it is. If that's the case, I would stay here and lock myself up then. You sure, you won't interfere with time?' She asks with a small smile.

'Yes, once the time strikes, the tide will come. All will be down. As your blessing was wished upon.' Griffin answers before giving Sherrinford a kiss on her forehead before dissapearing, in a flutter of wings to the holy unknown.

'Thank you, Griffin. Thank you..' With a tear dropping from her cheek and the black mascara that smudged her face, she turns off the lights before heading to bed.

...

As Sherrinford waved herself to Isla after a few days of staying over in her locked room, She heads back to the base. Looking at her wristwatch, she notices she woke up rather early comapred to the usual times she woke up when she was still schooling. As she passed by a small stall with knock-knacks, good and flaps of newspapers, she takes a short read on its few pages of contents, before stumbling onto something a little tad shocking but blessed. Big headlines, I assume, that may have scarred her history but it sewn her heart.

**

Three people dead in a gruesome car accident caused by speeding, driver presumably drunk-driving.

Upon furthur autopsy and reports by the local hospital, it seems it was two daugthers and a mother, having a drive around to pick up one by one. But as the driver was drunk, she started speeding out of control, only to turn wrongly by a cliffside and stumble to their deaths. The bodies are yet to be picked up as their identities are unknown, for now.

**

Knowing her family name isn't confirmed, she knew it was her family as they haven't returned since last night, their rooms were left open as there was no one in the house. She heads back to the train station nearby, a ticket to Basingstoke, she waits for her transit. Putting on some tunes and moving her hips to the beat, she places her earphones and glasses as she notices her vehicles arrival.

Boarding it, she sat by and read a novel that she skimmed through a charity shop nearby beside the good's stall, she waited to return back to the base. Her true home, where lies her true people, the commonfolk.