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[b][center][color=96D2B7]UNITED STATES OF AMERICA[/color][/center][/b]
[/h1][/sup][/color][indent][sub][COLOR=6DC09B][I]Summer 1955[/I][/COLOR][/sub][/indent][indent][sup][right][COLOR=6DC09B][b]A Warm Welcome[/b][/color][/right][/sup][/indent][hr][indent][indent][sub][COLOR=6DC09B]Frontier Service Station, Welch (WV)[/color][/sub][/indent][/indent][indent][indent][indent][color=BFE4D3][indent][color=5FBA91][i]"Schlafe, mein Prinzchen, schlaf ein,
Schäfchen ruhn und Vögelein,
Garten und Wiese verstummt,
auch nicht ein Bienchen mehr summt..."[/i][/color][/indent]
Emerson cherished his mother singing "Sleep, my little prince, fall asleep" even when her voice was not quite captivating. When he asked about it out of the blue, she told him that it was a prominent lullaby used throughout the German Empire during the Great War gifted by her dying grandmother, who encouraged her to flee to America as their home country was beginning to unravel. Even after Emerson got older, his mother still hummed the lullaby while preoccupied with chores around the house. It also bought her solace during the months of uncertainty in the wake of the failed coup in the nation's capital.

And now, the lullaby was etched into oblivion. 

[indent][color=5FBA91][i]"...Luna mit silbernem Schein
gucket zum Fenster herein,
schlafe bei silbernem Schein,
schlafe, mein Prinzchen, schlaf ein,
schlaf ein, schlaf ein!"[/i][/color][/indent]
Gradually waking up from his unanticipated slumber, Emerson noticed his hands were bound against a metal pole of a large shelf. His attempts of breaking free only hurt with the rope rubbing against his skin. It wasn't that complicated to believe that the "kind" cashier did this to him. And considering that he came on to her too strong with the question, Emerson didn't hold any grudge against the cashier for protecting her brother—which seemed significant enough to harm someone. Suddenly, he heard the storefront door opening followed by an argument between two people. One of the voices was clearly the cashier's as the other was entirely unfamiliar to Emerson.

And then, in front of Emerson, the door slowly opened to reveal a much younger man still in his work uniform. It was clear the stranger worked for the nearby mining company since coal dust coated his uniform from head to toe. All of that dust made it nearly difficult for Emerson to notice the company patch on the miner's right shoulder confirming his assumption. It admittedly was intimidating to witness such a muscular man approaching but he didn't hide his concerned gaze—something that caught Emerson entirely off-guard. The miner got down on one knee and began untying the restraints while glancing at the head for any signs of injuries. [color=5FBA91]"At least you aren't bleedin'. You alright?"[/color]

[color=5FBA91]"Y-yes."[/color] Emerson responded as his hands were freed from the metal pole but still remained wary of the warm reception. It was how his family managed for so long.  

The miner got up and then offered his hand to the now freed Emerson. [color=5FBA91]"I wanna apologize for my sis and her... firm swing, Mr. Henzel."[/color]

[color=5FBA91]"You know me?"[/color] Emerson asked directly. [color=5FBA91]"Then, you must be Gilbert Hensley."[/color]

Gilbert nodded. [color=5FBA91]"That yellow truck isn't exactly concealed in a town like this, sir. Just like an elephant walking down main street. But even then, I was told you were coming down sometime this week."[/color]

Emerson accepted the offer and got up from the cold wooden floor with some assistance. He quickly noticed the cashier from a distance, staring at both men, before walking away to the other side of the service station. She was still uneased by the whole circumstance even if she did a poor job of hiding it. But there wasn't time to explore the tension. Gilbert began making his way to the back exit and reached for the door handle. He opened the door and then turned to the truck driver. [color=5FBA91]"We ought to leave for the area now. Pinkertons will begin their evening patrols soon as the sun's down for the day. And trust me, they're a fucking headache to deal with."[/color]

Gilbert and Emerson made their way outside of the building and turned to notice two Pinkertons leaning against their assigned 1949 Ford Fordor, which was parked in front of the moving truck. It had the insignia of the private security and detective agency—a navy blue simplification of an unblinking human eye staring straight with the bottom left slightly cut off to look like a searchlight beam—standing out against the cream white paint job. There was an audible sigh coming from Gilbert as he immediately recognized one of the officers. That officer stopped leaning against the car and approached them with a wide grin on his face. 

[color=5FBA91]"'They're a fucking headache to deal with.' Come on, [b]boy[/b], that isn't a way to treat an officer of the law—especially around a stranger."[/color][/color][/indent][/indent][/indent]
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