Harold Marquee loaded six fresh shells into the cuff of his reinforced denim coat sleeves. It was his best, and most protective piece of gear. A beam of light jostled the kiosk he was using for cover, causing him to drop the last shell. "Shit."
His red-haired wife slid in beside him. There were tiny cuts on her exposed upper arms, and her red-and-white battle vest was pockmarked where husks had tried to pierce her flesh with tooth and claw. Despite her scrapes, she was smiling. Harold couldn't help but smile too. "I can't believe you're planning to give all this up." he said, mouth twisting into a charming smirk.
His wife, who most of the city knew by the name Nightingale, kissed his cheek and winked. She picked up the shell he'd dropped and slid it into place in the empty slot in his cuff. "All good things come to an end right? Nadia's going to need one of us around, after all." Harold looked at his wife piteously. The truth was, they both loved diving - the thrill, the sense of purpose - but orphanages were full of children whose parents had died in the undercity. Nightingale wanted to spare her daughter that fate more than she wanted to keep fighting the good fight.
"Listen up!" Nightingale called. Despite being the youngest in their party, Nightingale was also their leader. Harold could see Will and Bridgette, crouched against a nearby wall. At Nightingale's call they straightened up to listen. Ox, their bruiser, was out of sight. Harold could hear him grunting, and the telltale slicing of his axe through the air. "Ox and I are going to take it from either side, and distract its claws. You three focus in on the masks. One at a time - focus your fire."
Harold, Will, and Bridgette nodded. Ox grunted. "Well get out here then!"
Nightingale winked at Harold, and pressed her gloved fists together. Bands of light wrapped around them, forming large and glowing red gauntlets. She swept around the side of the destroyed kiosk and stormed toward the creature. With a breath, Harold popped up over the edge of his cover, pointing his sleeve at the giant monster that stood between them and a narrow catwalk.
This was one of the largest husks he'd ever seen. It was at least twenty feet tall, with three gruesome masks wearing pained expressions. Most of its many arms supported its amorphous body, but two of them terminated in giant iron-like crab claws which it used to fight off assailants. As Harold took aim, he called his shot. "Far Right." Will drew back his bow, and Bridgette pointed her twin barrels.
"Far Right" they called back, and the three of them opened fire. Harold fired rounds of hard-light bullets at his target. They chipped away at the monster's mask, the scarred surface taking on an even more ghoulish expression as chunks of it fell away. Ahead of him, his wife was fending off a powerful downward strike from a claw. Harold switched sleeves, firing a shot from his left at the titan's claw as it tried to attack her. The impact deflected the monster's attack just enough that Nightingale could slip to the side of it. She jumped up, swinging around it's upraised arm as if it were a gymnast's bar, and leaped toward the mask that had been eroded by their ranged attacks. With a single punch, she crushed the mask.
The husk bellowed a menacing cry of pain and rage. The mouths on its masks didn't open; the sound seemed to come from deep inside its pitch-skinned mass. Nightingale landed with a grunt, and immediately rolled out of the way of another pincer strike. Harold ducked down to reload, before popping back up. "Middle" He called.
"Middle" the other two parrotted. And they opened fire again.
This time, the monster sank back. It slid between the railings of the catwalk behind it, like a snail sliding into a shell. Its body elongated and it's claws covered its remaining masks to protect itself. The arms that had previously supported its body now slithered along the ground toward Ox and Nightingale, snapping with tiny sharp claws at any opportunity.
Nightingale jumped back out of range as two of them tried to slice off her legs. "I don't like how smart this thing is." She narrowed her eyes.
"This is perfect," Ox announced. His axe, which was mostly made of light, retracted into the foot-long metal rod that was it's handle. He slid it into place at his thigh and retreated back towards where Harold was hiding behind the kiosk. "there's something I've been wanting to try."
"Oh god." Harold slumped behind the cart.
"Trust me, Savant Crunch," Ox said. It was an embarrassing nickname, earned from the ad campaign that had started Harold's career with Citizen Savant.
Nightingale took a few steps back from the monster. "It's being defensive. The arms won't come this far. I wonder if it only has so much mass it can spend on its reach." She looked back to see Ox climbing ontop of the mangled shop kiosk. "What are you--"
"Push me." Ox announced. "I call this move 'Trojan Ox'"
"You can't be serious." Harold said, though he knew from experience that he was.
Will shot an arrow of light at the monster, to keep its guard up. The light ricocheted harmlessly off the monster's claws. Brigette who was reloading her weapons, said "And what will you do when you get over there?"
Ox steadied himself on the kiosk and cracked his knuckles. "Something heroic."
"Good enough for me!" announced Nightingale, crouching next to Harold. "Help me aim this thing, honey."
Harold nodded. He trusted Nightingale's intuition. Ox planted his feet on either side of a metal frame that had probably once held street food, and Nightingale and Harold unlocked the wheels and turned the cart to face the monster. Harold stepped back as Nightingale pulled an arm back. With a powerful jab, she sent the cart careening forward, Ox atop it. The cart bumped over slithering arms, but was not halted. Arms reached up to snap at Ox's shoes, but his thick boots denied them. The cart crashed into the front of the monster. Ox grabbed the pincers one with each hand, and pried them apart. He was staring face to mask with the monster.
Will and Bridgette opened fire on the middle mask as soon as it became visible. Nightingale traded a look with Harold, who knew what she had in mind. He shouldered off his coat with a practiced motion, and tossed it to her. She retracted her gauntlets just long enough to put on the coat. Her gauntlets partially covered the sleeves, but there were convenient gaps where Harold's cuff guns could fire through. Harold pulled two twin rods from his thighs, which sprang into life with short blades of light. Steeling himself, he charged in. Nightingale ran along behind him. Behind them, Will and Bridgette fanned out and redoubled their assault. They knew this was meant to be a finishing gambit.
Harold ignored the main threat, focusing on slicing off the fingers and hands of slithering arms that approached them. He kept them away from his wife as she charged his cuffs. Ahead of them, the middle mask broke apart. One of will's arrows had hit it dead center. Ox was still standing on the cart, black claws gnawing at his heavily covered legs. Harold ducked away and swiped at some of the monster's hands, and Nightingale leaped up onto the cart. She jumped again toward the monster's last remaining mask. She hit it with both fists and discharged all of Harold's remaining shells at the same time.
The explosion echoed through the cavernous chamber. A cloud of husk dust obscured everything for a moment. As it began to dissipate, Harold could see both Ox and Nightingale sitting on the destroyed food cart, grinning stupidly. One of the wheels gave out beneath them. Ox laughed. Will gave a whoop of triumph from behind them.
Nightingale hopped off the cart and removed Harold's coat. "I really am going to miss this."
The group rested on the platform where they'd venquished the giant husk. Around them was the cavernous expanse of the undercity. Just like the upper city where they lived, the undercity was a network of catwalks and bridges that connected smaller platforms, stacked clusters of buildings, and strong support beams. The undercity, however, was infested with mysterious creatures, and permiated by a miasma of dark mist. The light of the sun did not reach here, turning what once had been appartments into dark caves, and what had once been bustling plazas into empty caverns.
Ox inspected fresh holes in the armored pants he wore. He patted the thick protective pads that has spared him the worst of the damage. Will was dozing with his head against Ox's shoulder. He was the only person Harold had ever seen who could sleep inside the undercity. Harold was standing nearby. He had put his coat back on and was cleaning out the chambers, eyes alert. He couldn't shake the feeling in his gut.
"So I suppose everything is going to change now." Ox said.
Harold shoved restless hands into his pockets. "We've made preparations. Bridgette's brother will join us as a fifth man so we can keep up our expeditions."
Ox cleaned his ear with a thick finger. "Well, yeah, but I meant just in general. You'll have to tell me what it's like having a wife at home. Cooking and cleaning! Does she wear an apron around when she-"
Harold kicked Ox in the shin, causing the bigger man to laugh. Will's eyes fluttered as he slipped off of Ox's shoulder and settled for a thigh instead. Ox rested a gentle hand on Will's shoulder. "It must be strange to have a life outside of Diving." Ox remarked thoughtfully, the dregs of mirth still coloring his tone.
"Oh don't worry, she's already got plans on how to drag the rest of you into it. I hope you like babysitting."
"I've never done it before, but I'm sure Nadia and I will make the most elaborate pillowforts."
Harold cracked a smile, imaging Ox teaching Nadia how to build siege engines from building blocks. On the other side of the Catwalk, Nightingale and Bridgette were returning from their short reconnaisance. They often broke off to scout these days, with Nightingale teaching Bridgette to take her place as leader of the group. Nightingale waved with her brightly lit gauntlit, signaling for them to come meet her.
Ox woke Will, who stood up and yawned with a self-satisfied smile. Harold gave the abandoned food cart that had been the focal point of their plan a last look before following along behind the group.
"The cache we're looking for should be up ahead. Come on." Nightingale said.
"Anyone else getting a strange feeling?" Will asked, lazily scratching the back of his head. "Like, husks don't defend, they attack. But that one was definitely trying to protect this place."
Harold looked up. The light from their clothes and weapons created a pocket of visibility. He could make out the dark shape of the tower ahead as they crossed the catwalk. It was an uneven tower of stacked houses, as could be seen in many places in Diamond City. Yet he couldn't see another catwalk or bridge branching off at any other level. It was as if the only way to get her was this one.
"Maybe it was just self-preservation?" remarked Ox.
"No, it definitely compromised aggression for defense." Nightingale added. "Stay alert. I have a feeling that whatever is in this tower, the husks don't want us to find it."
They made their way around the narrow platform that ringed the tower. They passed buildings that looked like they were once peoples' homes. An abandoned Tricicle was caught between two rungs in the railing, its oversized front wheel hanging out over dark depths. As divers, these kinds of sights were not new to them. With a child at home, however, these kinds of sights always made Harold's blood run cold.
The path they followed stopped abruptly as one buidling's ediface jutted out beyond the railing. Between the buildings was a narrow stairway that lead through the middle of the tower. Clotheslines hung eerily still in the space above them as they descended. The air was stale and oppressive. Finally, they reached the landing at the bottom of the stair. A faded sign hung sideways on it's last remaining chain.
"Fable's Lounge." Will poked the sign with the tip of his bow. It creaked as it swung.
The group shared glances.
"Surely not the Fable." Harold assured them.
"Surely." Nightingale repeated, though she didn't sound convinced, as she pushed open the door. Their light bounced around the room, illuminating a gruesome scene. Tables and chairs were knocked over, husk dust stained the ground in the shape of bodies all around them.
Will knelt by one of the outlines. "Were these... people?"
Bridgette spoke up. "People who die in the undercity become dust just like the husks do. It just takes longer."
"A lot longer in some cases, apparently." Ox said, pointing. Seated in a circular loungebooth at the far wall was a well-dressed body. Other than one thin knuckled hand that rested on the table, the body seemed entirely relaxed. It wore a mask with a curved oval shape. The mask's only feature was a long smile, which carved spiral patterns throughout the mask, getting thicker and thinner but never seeming to reach an end.
"A husk?!" Nightingale narrowed her eyes. Weapons were drawn. At first nothing happened, but then as they began to approach the body, the fingers on the table began to drum. Bridgette fired a shot which ricochetted off the top portion of the mask, causing the husk's head to lull backward. When it came froward again, the smile that decorated it's mask was moving. It rattled dangerously, then it vanished in a puff of dust.
The husk re-appeared in the middle of their group, pulling a long thin blade from one sleeve. while its body seemed mostly human, it moved with an inhuman swiftness. The blade slide cleanly through Will's stomach, causing the boy to shriek, and fall to the floor. At the same moment, the slithering snake-like smile that adorned the mask came away and slashed at Harold. He raised a sleeve in defense, but the shape curved around it, and his face was splattered with his own blood.
Harold's blood-drenched eye he kept shut, but he forced himself to assess the situation with the other as he steadied himself against a fallen table. Ox had put himself between the creature and Will, who was bleeding profusely and holding his stomach. Bridgette was stepping back towards the door, firing her weapons at the monster. Nightingale had one glowing hand around the monster's blade, and the other around it's throat. "Retreat!" She called. "We need to get Will out of here now!" There was fear and anger in her voice. Harold lifted a glove and fired at creature's mask. The shot glanced away. The curling smile spread away from the mask that bound it, slithering through the air in great swirls that reflected light like razor blades.
Bridgette was out the door already, Ox was carrying the still bleeding Will out on his back. Harold hesitated between the door and his wife, who still held the monster with both hands. He cried with rage and fired his cuff guns, trying to make an openning for Nightingale to get away, but the smile that now hung around the room shifted, swirling and slicing the very air itself into pieces Harold jumped back instinctively as the entire room burst apart. Harold watched with horror as the room in front of him and everything in it fell to pieces. The walls gave way into dark gloom, and the last thing he saw of his wife were bloody fingers twitching as the fell into the abyss. The husk floated in the air where the room had once been, orbited by a twisted smile covered in blood.
Harold was pulled back through the doorway. He was aware of voices, and blood, but nothing seemed to make sense. She was gone? Just like that? He couldn't feel his toes, and Nightingale was gone.
Just like that.
The Cage
Level 6; Marquee Manor
There were butterflies in the window above the bookcases. They fluttered around each other in a dance that looked very much like tag. Nadia caught herself watching them instead of studying, and blushed with embarrassment. She had even doodled little butterfly shapes into the margins of her tablet's worksheet. The little clock at the top right of the device, which tracked how long it took her to complete her worksheets, ticked away in silent judgement. She rubbed away the doodles, got up, and opened a window to let in the noise of the city.
The sounds of distant conversations, hoverbikes, and plaza ad-machines filled her ears. A cool breeze slipped through the rippling force-field that acted as a window screen. She could see Diamond City through the panes of glass. The white windmill towers of Level 6 were linked by covered bridges, rows of flora-laden planting troughs hid scaffolding, and stepped plaza platforms acted as busy thoroughfares.
Nadia retrieved her tablet and sat in the nook by the window. The chaos of the city helped her focus somehow, and she finished the rest of her math problems. She did another worksheet, and another, until she found herself distracted again - this time by watching hang gliders circling over the distant dome of Crux Colosseum.
She muddled through the rest of a worksheet before setting it aside. The kitchen staffers who were tasked to watch over her while she worked were playing cards in the library's adjoined study. Nadia peeked in on them. A skinny man was winning. Nadia knew that the shorter, stockier man across from him was a sore loser who'd be trying to win his money back for at least another hour. She crept away and slipped out the door on the other side of the library.
The halls of the mansion were mostly empty. During the day the light panels at the top of the walls were turned off to conserve energy, and the hallways were lit with natural light. Thin floor-to-ceiling window panes were spaced out every yard or so, and they cast perfect lines of light. As a child, Nadia had made a game of jumping from one shadow to the next, avoiding the bright lines like lava. She would imagine they were molten gashes in the building, left by a giant, burning husk monster from the undercity. Even at the age of seventeen, she sometimes elongated her steps to make sure she didn't step in the light. She was quieter about it now.
Even when she was young, the mansion hadn't been hospitable to a young girl at play. Instead, she passed quietly through the halls, with all the grace her upbringing had instilled in her. When she passed the simply-dressed workers who cleaned and kept her home, she didn't meet their eyes or wave, and they ignored her like the ghost she was.
As Nadia walked she felt the walls closing in on her. This feeling crept up on her sometimes. It was a voice in her heart that said if you vanished nothing would change. Nobody is looking at you anyway, you might as well not exist.
Nadia pushed open a door onto the covered bridge between this tower and the next. Immediately the wind berated her. Marquee Manor was a large estate that stretched between three towers, taking up two stories on each of them. The towers were connected by these sturdy, ten-foot-wide open-air bridges. Nearly invisible barriers on either side kept people from falling over the railings. Nadia slid her finger down the display pad beside the door, and the barriers at the edges weakened enough to let in more of the wind from outside.
Nadia closed her eyes so she wouldn't see the barrier. She spread her arms and paced along the bridge. Wind tumbled over her. She pushed her negative thoughts from her mind and imagined herself as a bird, flying far away from the mansion and riding the up and down drafts between the towers of Diamond City.
In her mind, she was circling with the hang-gliders over Crux stadium. She could see the Divers fighting below her, brandishing their flashy weapons and their even flashier clothes. It was magical, how they'd turned the weapons developed to fight off monsters into a spectacle to inspire the citizens. Nadia imagined her bird-self landing on the edge of the dome, preening while a fashionable warrior down below gave a rousing victory speech.
Someone cleared their throat. Nadia's eyes popped open to see her father looming in the doorway. She'd nearly bumped into him. Her heart dropped into her gut and she became small. Nadia's father had the same straight black hair that she did, only his was cut short and was slick against his skull. Narrow and mirthless eyes studied her from beneath his scarred brow. One look at his face and she glanced away. She hated the way he looked at her, like he was looking at her through a kaleidoscope: just seeing shapes and colors. "You should be studying." He said.
Nadia nodded.
"You'll go back to the library."
Nadia nodded.
Harold walked around her and continued moving down the bridge. The wind didn't seem to move him at all.
Nadia didn't have any more luck focusing on her studies after she returned to the library. That creeping feeling that she didn't matter to anyone or anything was fly paper for her thoughts. She curled up in a reading nook with a long out-of-date issue of the Diamond City Almanac. The almanac was a publication which recorded and reported on divers and their exploits. This one was almost twenty years old. There were stats about diver teams: their kill-counts and resources recovered. There were also articles about their daily lives, interviews about strange and interesting experiences, and even more light hearted articles about which divers were dating other divers.
One of these latter articles was the reason Nadia kept this old almanac. It included an article about her parents' wedding. It had been important in the diver world at the time, she'd discovered. Nadia's mother, who went by the alias "Nightingale", was known as an entertainer and an accomplished diver. She was sponsored by Sun Up, both a clothing brand and music producer. Her father, Harold, was a charming and popular diver in his own right. His old diving outfits were displayed in various places in the manor, but Nadia had always wondered what it must have been like back then. The article helped her imagine a happy version of her family.
Next to the article was a picture of Harold and Nightingale. Nightingale's hair was a lot like Nadia's: chin-length and slightly curved. Her mother's hair had been red, not black, and bright like fire. Nadia had her dark, excited eyes.
Articles like this reminded Nadia that life outside Marquee Manor wasn't like it was inside. Marquee Manor was a cage for her, and everyone knew it, down to the cooking staff. They waited on her every need, but they didn't see her. They didn't know her.
Nadia put the almanac aside, closed her eyes, and imagined again the boundless sky.
The Flyer
Nadia’s balcony was the only part of her room that made her feel alive. The high wind whistled through her hand-made wind chimes. Sometimes little round finches perched on the railing or on the edges of the red-and-white-shingled overhang, and she would sketch them in her sketchbook. Her favorite thing to do, however, was people-watching.
Her family’s enormous estate overlooked most of the 6th layer of Diamond City. Far below the estate, people warbled by on compact hover-scooters or bustled along the crisscrossing catwalks and hanging bridges. She could barely make out the impressive dome of Crux arena through the gaps in the buildings. Hang gliders spun in the open air above it like fishing seabirds.
The dome was open today. The weather was nice, and there were no exhibition matches scheduled. On days like today, they would open the dome to the public. People would stroll around the outer rim of the field, picnic in the seats, or hang-glide into the field from the 7th layer airstop. Nadia had visited the Crux Arena only once: her tutors convinced her father that something could be learned from the experience.
Right now it seemed like a distant dreamland, and she was wide awake.
She set her pencil down and sighed. She’d drawn a little vignette of the dome and its circling glidersby in the margin of her notes. Mrs. Cotton would be cross, but it wasn’t as though Nadia’s notes were ever as tidy as the maid-turned-tutor would have liked them to be. Beside her on a small metal table was a Diamond City History book propped up against two others on science and old-world literature. Nadia had come out here to the balcony hoping the fresh air would clear her mind and help her focus, but the words on the page turned into word soup and her eyes rebelled against them.
Giving up on note-taking for the moment, Nadia ran a hand through her bobbed black hair and stood up. She leaned against the railing, lost in melancholy for a long moment. Watching others living their busy lives, accomplishing things, while she languished in the manor with nothing but books and pencils, made her feel devoid of meaning. She was an ornament, left on a shelf to gather dust.
A shadow eclipsed her. She heard the burbling fan blades of a hoverbike overhead. Nadia looked up to find it was raining sheets of paper. The drifted through the air in little spirals like giant feathers dropped by an enormous orange bird. The hoverbike overhead was passing by at a slow pace. It's rider, a lanky figure in patchwork clothes, was grabbing handfuls of paper from his saddlebags and tossing them into the air.
Sudden curiosity booted melancholy from Nadia's mind. She scrambled up onto the table beside her chair, knocking over her books, and reached over the railing desperately. One of the orange sheets passed just out of reach. "Oh! Come on...!" She commanded the inanimate sheets.
She reached for another sheet, and another, failing each time. Finally, when the last nearby flyer fluttered out of her reach, she sighed and dismounted the table. She watched forlornly as the papers drifted further away, down towards the people below. One by one she saw them stop and marvel at the sudden turn in the weather. A fashionable girl with hair dyed pink snatched a paper from the air, and snickered with her friend as they looked it over. A grumpy old man pulled out a broom and swept scattered flyers off the patio in front of his shop, and they scattered further down into the city. A young couple were interrupted mid-embrace by the fluttering flyers. One of them stuffed a flyer into a coat pocket and the two sauntered off, giggling to themselves. Here was yet another thing the rest of the world would enjoy without her.
Suddenly, Nadia's vision went all orange. She stumbled back in alarm, knocking over the little table entirely and falling into her chair rump-first. She blinked up at the boy in his patchwork vest and three-color denim barret. She'd been so busy watching the people below, she hadn't heard him swing his hoverbike back around towards her. He was holding out an orange flyer for her, his pudgy boyish face amused. "You wanted one, didn't you, princess?" he waved the flyer at her enticingly.
Nadia felt a blush of embarrassment rush to her cheeks. Quickly she pulled her legs down off the arm of her chair, smoothing out her dress. "I did!" she said, popping up to her feet. "I really did."
Nadia snatched the paper from him. "Journey, Comings and Goings Festival." she read aloud, heedless of the boy still hovering nearby, "Celebrating the artists and champions departed, and the fresh new faces of new recruits." Nadia had heard of Journey. Unlike most of the Brands that governed Diamond City's Fashion and Diving, they were entirely independent. It was mostly artists and tinkerers, trying to make a name for themselves. Nadia had heard her father speak very poorly of them, which meant it was probably a very fun place to be. She continued reading. "Oh! It's a party. I'd like a party...Food! Refreshments!" She didn't realize she'd been pacing. She spun on her heels and nearly tripped over her own chair. Catching herself, she saw the boy was not only still there, but staring at her with a grin on his face.
"Never seen a girl get so worked up over a party before. You'd think you've never been to one, princess." He said.
Nadia balked. She held the flyer close to her chest, as if she were afraid it might fly away before she could finish reading it. "I've been to a few, but only the ones my father organizes for business deals and family friends." Well, business friends, she thought. She blushed, mind catching up to the moment. "Wait... princess?"
The hoverbike squeaked a little as it moved a little down the length of the balcony toward her. "Sure." The boy shrugged, leaning his forearms on the handlebars, "On account of being up high, 'n a castle. Wouldn't happen to be a dragon around, would there?"
"No!" Nadia announced, still flushed. But she had to giggle at the thought. "Having a dragon around would be fun. He could fly me around so I could see the sights."
Nadia looked down at her orange flyer. "And catch runaway pieces of paper."
"You're pretty strange, princess. I like your style." The boy decided.
Nadia was ignoring him. Something on the flyer had caught her eyes. She looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. "What's a portfolio review?"
The boy rose his eyebrows. "Oh. Well, it's where you bring a bunch of your art, and some of our more accomplished members will give you feedback on how you can improve and stuff. It's for like visual arts. Like drawing, you know? Do you draw?"
Nadia's eyes lit up, and she turned away, sliding the balcony door open and darting inside. Nadia's room was all white walls and dark brown wood. She kicked off her slippers and slid on her sock heels to the edge of her bed, where she had left her sketchbook. In a room kept tidy and spotless by maids, it was the only thing out of place. She thumbed through the papers, suddenly self-conscious. She'd never shown anyone her sketches before. Nobody had ever cared. She gathered them up in a nervous fury and stalked back outside.
When she stepped back out onto the balcony, the boy had dismounted his hoverbike. It was still hovering, tied with a silicone cord to one run of the balcony railing. He had picked up her table, and was setting her books back on top. Nadia stood stock still. She'd never had a stranger on her balcony before. Would this get her in trouble? Excitement turned her thoughts into spaghetti. Looking at her, the boy must have thought she was crazy.
"Sorry should I get back on the bike?" He asked, looking awkward.
Nadia was still processing.
The boy scratched the back of his head. "You're giving me the jeevies, Princess."
She thrust her sketch pad toward him. When he awkwardly took the bundle of papers, she turned away and busied herself closing the balcony door. She pressed her forehead to the glass, trying to get her heart to slow down. There's a boy on my balcony! Her brain was screaming.
"Hey, not bad, princess. You really like birds, huh?"
"Yes!" Nadia spun around, leaning against the glass door like she was trying to slip through it. "They get close and let me feed them sometimes."
The boy looked her over, and something seemed to dawn on him. He set her sketches down on the stack of books. "You uh... don't get many visitors huh?" He had kind eyes, she decided. Mischievous, but kind.
Nadia shook her head more sharply than she meant to. The boy gave her a piteous smile, and fished the flyer out from where she'd jostled it into her loose sketch pages. He set it on top, and tapped it with his finger.
"You should come." He said, "You look like you could use the change of scenery." He hopped up onto the railing with practiced grace, and threw a leg over the side of his bike. With a single pull he undid the knot that kept the hoverbike anchored. Nadia kind of wished he would stay, but she also felt her pulse slow down as he got ready to depart. Relief warred with fear in her heart. Once he left she'd be alone again on her balcony, once again devoid of meaning.
"Nadia!" she stepped forward suddenly, causing him to look up from fixing his saddlebags.
"Huh?"
"Nadia Marquee. It's my name."
"Tomlin Wicks." The boy smiled easily at her, and she realized he was missing a tooth. "But dragon-less princesses get to call me Tommy."
As he scootered away, Nadia caught a glance of the Journey logo on a sticker on the back of his bike. Was he a Diver, she wondered? It would explain how nimble he had been jumping onto her railing. His vest and hat looked home-made too. A thought occurred to her, and she leaned over the railing to wave at him. "Thank you, Tommy!"
He waved back over his shoulder before vanishing behind a cluster of buildings.
Nadia sank into her chair. Her pulse was still quick in her ears, and even though she'd merely had a conversation, she felt like she'd been on a journey of her own. If she hadn't been able to focus on her studies before, she certainly couldn't now. She picked up her flyer and looked at it over and over, reading every word again and again. She clutched it close to her chest and Tommy, and food, and portfolio reviews, and comings and goings, and Tommy. He seemed dangerously like a friend, and oh, she'd always wanted one of those. Her father would never let her go to a party, of course, least of all to a party on the 4th Layer.
But Tommy! and food, and live music!
Nadia nibbled her lip, hid the flyer in the back of her sketchbook, and started hatching a plan.
The Party
Nadia prowled her father's fundraising gala quietly. She'd had to sit for these things before; in a corner looking demure, undisruptive, and eligible. This time, she let her curious eyes wander and wondered at the guests in attendance. The room was packed with finely dressed guests. They were her father's uppercity circle. Nadia could point out the CEO of Latticework Enterprises, smugly telling a story to the two female founders of Clover Inc. The founders in their bright and simple gowns giggled smartly like chirping mockingbirds. A group of young men about Nadia's age swarmed the food table, passing their shared braincell back and forth in a boisterous display of shallow friendship. Nadia skirted around them unnoticed. She swiped a handful of candied almonds from a glass bowl, and passed along the outside of the room.
She saw a few more familiar faces and avoided them. If there was an art Nadia had mastered to her core, it was being ignored. Or perhaps, it was everyone else who had learned to ignore her. Either way, she drifted like a ghost through the party, invisible and adrift. Later it would depress her to remember how unaffecting she was, but now it let her distract herself without interruption.
The room was lined with thick glass cases on either side. Her father had displayed his old Diving outfits. Some were fancier than others, but each was a reminder of the fame he once commanded. Nadia drifted near one of them, and took a moment to admire the thick blue combat tunic with gold and silver embroidery. An injury early in her father's life had scarred him and ended his budding career. Nadia would occasionally find him standing alone in the ballroom, staring up at these relics of a more exciting life, before a maid caught her and quietly guided back to her room. Sometimes she dreamed of her father being buried in one of these glass coffins, displayed for the last time as he once had been: Powerful, charismatic, and kind. It was a version of her father she'd read about in old news clippings, but had never once seen for herself.
"Tacky, isn't it?" A young woman had come up behind Nadia. She wore a black lolita dress, with red hair and long braids. "Looks like one of the early Savant lines. Back before they had figured out how to weave the protective fibers thin enough to pass for normal clothing." Despite her criticism, she was smiling.
Nadia found herself blushing. She hadn't expected to be approached by - well, anyone. "Savant?" She asked, curiosity winning over embarrassment.
"Citizen Savant." The older girl explained, "One of the very first diving brands. They're still around, though I imagine they'd be embarrassed to know some of their earliest work was on display like this." The girl giggled, but Nadia didn't get the joke. She looked back at the display case, noting that the fabric was indeed much thicker than a normal shirt would be. It looked almost like armor, from one of those old fairy tales. She couldn't imagine her father wearing it.
"My partner would probably wear it though." The other girl continued, sticking out her tongue. "But that's a Dauntless nerd for you." Nadia looked up at the girl and gave her a small smile, despite her confusion. She didn't know what the girl was talking about, but she liked being treated like a real person.
Clarity pointed past the display case, to a short girl who was leaning against the wall. "That's my partner, Urisa. Her coat is Savant, actually. She insists on wearing it even to events like this. Doesn't it clash with her dress?!" Nadia craned her neck to get a better look. The girl against the wall had lilac hair pulled up into a tight bun. She wore a peach-colored dress, beneath which a pair of thick combat boots poked out. Her coat was red with white criss-crossing patterns which glowed a little. Around her neck was a yellow ascot. She looked like she wasn't sure if she was here to fight or to party.
The red-head looked at Nadia expectantly. Nadia grappled in her mind for something to add to the conversation. She looked intently at the girl, trying to find something to comment on. The girl let Nadia stare for a moment before her mouth tilted into a smirk. "I know what you're thinking. I'm a bit overdressed, in comparison. But I like to stand out. You might even say that's my job." The girl did a twirl, and Nadia could see that her braids each terminated in heavy metal rings. Nadia followed them with her eyes. "I'm Clarity. You're Harry's kid, right?" she added.
Nadia nodded. "I'm Nadia!" she blurted finally. Something occurred to her then. "Are you one of the divers father manages?"
Clarity poked Nadia's nose, causing her to blink in surprise. "Ding ding ding, you got it first try!" Clarity looked pleased with herself. "You've probably seen my reels on Almanac right? I'm sort of a big deal."
Nadia covered her nose. "I don't have a phone."
Clarity frowned a little. Nadia didn't like this part of the conversation. She could tell when people discovered how out of touch she was - How much her father kept from her. She never knew what to say to that kind of face.
Glancing away, Nadia saw that Clarity's partner Urisa was walking out of the room in step with her father. "Excuse me!" Nadia bowed deeply to Clarity, who looked like she was about to say something, and slipped away into the crowd.
The ambience of the party disappeared behind Urisa and Harold as they walked down the hallway to Harold's office. Urisa kept her hands tightly clasped behind her back, carefully following one step behind him. She picked up on their stalker almost instantly. Harold's daughter was not half as stealthy as she wanted to be. Urisa glanced up at Harold, who was just over a foot taller than her. She thought she saw his eye twitch. Had he caught the girl's presence too? Urisa knew the man used to be a diver. He wasn't subtle about making sure his guests were aware. Urisa often wondered how sharp he kept his senses.
Harold had short black hair combed back with product to keep it plastered to his head, with a scar from temple to cheek on the left side of his face. He had hard, unforgiving eyes, and he walked with a cane. His suits were black, trimmed with navy. Their make was Citizen Savant, which made sense. Savant had been his sponsor back when he was a diver - and he clearly maintained contacts within the company. Urisa could tell the suit was lined with protective fibers, but she doubted that Harold actually expected combat. It was sad in a way. Was this what became of divers who lost their ability to fight, but not their will? Did they become angry old men and women? Holding the war inside their minds because they couldn't let it out on the battlefield?
Urisa let Harold get a few paces ahead of her, so he wouldn't see her shiver.
A servant opened the doors to Harold's office, and Urisa followed him in. She glanced behind her to see a bob of black hair stick out from behind a display case and smiled. The doors shut heedless of Nadia's antics. Urisa had grown used to be alone in a room with Harold. The man was tall and imposing naturally, and when he sat behind his elevated desk and looked down at her, she always felt like she was on trial. She smoothed out her dress over her legs and folded her hands in her lap, waiting.
"So, how many team mates do you have now?" Harold asked, giving her his full attention.
"Four total. We've been able to recruit two more, but we're running out of time-"
"Yes, you are."
Urisa held his gaze. This was stupid. They only needed five team mates for official Crux matches. Clarity and Urisa were more than enough to handle their patrols and other missions. She couldn't understand why this was so important to Harold. It was just a cat fight between Clarity and one of her Almanac rivals. Let them duke it out in message boards and leave their teams out of it.
Harold was still looking at her.
Urisa bit back her true feelings and continued her report. "One of them is named Gale. He's sponsored by iCandy, and he works with drones. He seems pretty capable though he's mostly used to level 4 scraps. The other's name is Jasper. He works with orphans on level 5, and seems pretty good in a fight." When Harold didn't reply, she continued, "You'll meet them soon. Parties like this aren't their thing."
"We conduct much of our business at these Galas." Harold replied coldly, "They'll need to make it their thing."
"Beggars can't be choosers." Urisa said with just as much frost in her voice, but she added, "Sir." Before he could lay into her, she continued. "It's only temporary, anyway. As team captain, I'm the only one who needs to be here, really."
Harold sat back in his chair, studying her. "Appearances must be considered. For the entire team to show up here, at my galas, is a show of solidarity."
"With respect, sir, we're not a team yet. Not really."
The air hung empty and cold for a moment. Urisa knew that Harold understood. Strangers, even divers, don't form bonds overnight, and what he was asking her to do - assemble an entire new team in a month - was ludicrous. He knew he needed to make certain concessions in his expectations, but he didn't want to appear... weak, maybe? Urisa always thought he seemed like the kind to care about that sort of thing. She just wanted to do her work, and this song and dance was in the way.
"There's still the matter of the fifth man." Harold told her.
Urisa opened her mouth to speak, but another voice came instead. "Um... what about a fifth... girl?" Urisa looked back towards the office door. She'd never actually spoken with Harold's daughter before, but she knew that must be her. She sounded so small. "I can do it! I'll join the team!"
Harold's eyes narrowed, and Urisa saw a cruelty in those dark depths that she'd never seen before. She felt a sudden need to protect Nadia from the monster behind those eyes. Standing up from her chair, Urisa opened the door to find large, desperate eyes staring back at her. Despite their age difference, Nadia was a couple of inches taller than her. Urisa was used to commanding respect from people taller than her, though. She snagged Nadia's eyes with hers and said "You should go."
Nadia's eyes were full of desperation and her hands, clasped over her stomach, were trembling. Still, she met Urisa's hard gaze. "I can do it!"
Suddenly, Urisa was back in school. An older girl with short blond hair was standing over her. "How are you going to fight husks if you can't even keep your stance against me?" the older girl had asked.
Urisa, determined despite the walloping she'd gotten, had cried, "I can do it! Hit me again!"
Nadia slipped between Urisa and the door while she was lost in memory. Urisa turned around to see Nadia skiddishly approaching her father's desk. Harold eyed her dangerously. "Nadia, this is the second time this month you've barged in here with frivolous ideas."
"Father, please." Nadia pled. "If we lose I'll stop asking about the festival! I just want to try. To do something. Please."
Urisa's heart broke. Against her better judgment, she found herself stepping forward. "I can train her. Two weeks is probably enough time to teach her the basics. She can cover our blind spots." Harold's jaw was working as he considered. Cautiously, Urisa added, "Worst case scenario she draws some attacks away from us. Not having to find another member means more time for team building. It's not a bad plan." Harold didn't seem sold. She wasn't entirely sold herself, but she'd taken up this girl's banner now.
Nadia turned back to look at Urisa, and her eyes were rimmed with tears. Urisa, emboldened, put her hands on the back of the chair she'd been sitting in before. "I can make it work, Harold. Trust me."
"Very. Well." Harold bit off the words like they were tough to chew.
Nadia inflated with excitement but didn't express it. She balled up her hands, bowed to her father, and rushed out of the room. Urisa thought she heard an excited squeal before the doors closed again. She was left alone with Harold now, who sat forward and worked his temple with a gloved hand.
Urisa waited, but he didn't say anything. She must have been worked up by the scene too, because she gave voice to the nagging thought in her mind. "Why do you hate her?"
Harold didn't look up. Instead, he waved her out, and she turned on her heel and left. Closing the door to Harold's office, she slumped against the wood, and smoothed her hair with her hands. She needed to find Clarity and Nadia. She needed to come up with a training regiment, and plan some drills, but she'd had about twice as much party as she bargained for, and all she wanted to do was sit down and have a drink.
