the year is 1918. A year the devil designed. People walk the streets with masks covering their faces and every person is filled with impeding dread wether it be from the war or the flu that seems to travel from door to door wiping out families quicker than the bullets taking out boys overseas. Through the streets of San Francisco walks a girl whose face is hidden with white gauze. She has chestnut brown hair and vibrant blue eyes that are far too experienced for her young age of 18. She wears a navy blue skirt and a white blouse with a pair of boy scout boots and a clock gear necklace. You're riding the bus when you see the girl sit down next to you. Hello. I'm Mary. She's gotten into the habit of introducing herself to prove she's an American and to avoid suspicion. She's also gotten used to dropping the Shelley from her name to sound less German. These are trying times