I pressed a button next to a wooden door and stood silently. I noticed a device that looked like a camera, then waved into it. Immediately, the door swung open and my dad, Michael Moores, was standing there. He breathed in deeply then looked back into the house. "Sara, did you make extra biscuits?!" "Always do!" A softer voice replied from the kitchen. Dad and I laughed simultaneously as we walked inside. "So, how's the City been?" I asked after sitting down at the dining table. "It's been quite nice actually. We've got to actually be a family and relax," Sara, my mother, replied while setting a plate of crisp, golden biscuits on the table. I shunned some; even after I got my arms back, and was able to live a normal life, I chose to hide away in my apartment or the Iron Temple under a shroud of depression. Conner seemed to notice this. "How come you don't join us much, anymore?" Dad asked. I looked up suddenly and felt my nerves get fried. "Um, you never know when the Vanguard will need us..." I replied. Mom tilted her head some and squinted her eyes. "The Fallen haven't been at our door in a while now. Even the Hive seem to be hiding away," Micheal followed up. Mom snapped her head to him; she caught onto something my dad couldn't. "It's different for us, Michael. He's not City Guard like us, he gets sent on assignments." I sheepishly smiled at Sara. "Is it awesome being an [i]Iron Lord[/i]?" Conner asked while drizzling chocolate gravy on his biscuits. I clenched my eyes tightly and let out a smirk. "I'm not an Iron Lord, just all my friends. But, the Temple is pretty sweet," I replied. "As Iron Lords, what does your team do?" Mom asked. "Honestly, nothing. Well, we--they--are just regular Guardians held at a higher regard. But Dakota keeps us training: sparring, target practice, so on and so on," I replied. "Sounds like he's shaping y'all into an army..." Dad said before stuffing his mouth with chocolate covered biscuits. "What army can be made out of only four Guardians?" I asked with a snark attitude. "Don't ever question the power of morale. Ten people can feel like a hundred if they're willing to fight," Dad replied. Mom silently lipped 'Okay...' while setting her fork down; quickly, tensions grew. "So, you don't get any free time?" She asked to change the subject. "Not often. Occasionally we go out for 'fancy' dinners, but recently Colt got me in trouble..." I replied. "What'd he do?" Micheal asked, almost as if he already knew the answer. "He had too much to drink...Let's just say that," I answered. "I would've been fine. But nooo, every other ghost had to join me..." Colt groaned. I spun around and faced him. "You're still in trouble..." I said with a slight snarl. "Well, you're here... How about you stay for the night?" Mom asked. "Yeah. There's a Mayhem game tonight," Dad said next.