Kooroo
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As always, the elevator was far too slow. ‘Slow’ was pretty much the adjective that Theia associated with the damn things. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but that hadn’t stopped her from slapping the button as she’d raced through the foyer. To be fair, she’d given it a chance at exceeding mediocrity, however, the fact that the doors hadn’t sprung open instantly was completely unacceptable. This would have to be taken up with the building’s management again at some point, although they’d stopped replying to her emails after the first dozen or so on the topic. Slackers, all of them. No PR or communication, whatsoever.
Speed—or lack of, with regards to the lift—was the main reason that Theia usually opted to use the stairwell. The thing about the stairs, though, was that there was a distinct lack of music. This was possibly the one thing the elevator still had going for it. The management had gotten back to her on this one, though, replying that it was unnecessary to have a sound system in the emergency stairwell. A waste of funds, they called it. Unnecessary. Honestly, their lack of attention to detail was disappointing. The lot of them should’ve been given the sack a long time ago.
Still, that problem was easily solved. Theia considered herself exceptionally crafty, and paid no heed to the dissenters or naysayers who tried to call her out on that statement. Always had the right tool for the job, and the right music for nearly any scenario. If anyone was watching now, how could they say otherwise?
Taking the steps two at a time, The Astra reached the next landing and stopped. A large ‘4’ was painted in red next to the door; this was it. This was her floor. Or well, probably her floor. It was either this one, or another forty up, on level forty-Four. But there was a good chance this was it; she was pretty certain that she wasn’t getting apartments mixed up again.
For one thing, the management in the other building had eventually relented to her complaints, and had met her half-way. While they hadn’t managed to do anything about their equally dismal grav-lift, they had installed speakers on every landing in the stairwell, playing that sweet music often heard in lifts or department stores.
And for another thing, Theia knew for a fact that this building only had eight levels. This was probably the correct floor.
She strode up to the door, and checked it, making sure that it wasn’t locked or alarmed. Then she drew back her foot, and kicked it, flinging it wide open. The sharp BANG! of her boot striking the door must have startled the young man waiting outside her apartment door. Theia frowned, striding forward as he fumbled her package. She turned off her music—a jingle she had recorded from the elevator—and walked up to the poor lad, just as he dropped it. There was a loud shattering noise, as whatever was inside broke. The man cursed, but Theia just laughed.
“Sorry about that, sorry. Didn’t meant to scare you, not at all. Are you looking for me?” she asked, smiling.
“I, uh, um, yeah,” he stammered. Eloquent, this one. “Are you the resident of 404/404 Pa—” She laughed again, cutting him off.
“Yep! Theia Eris Fhenn d’Astra, at your service!” she beamed, bowing low. “And who might you be?” The courier started stammering something, but Theia cut him off, clapping him on the shoulder with her right hand. He winced at the weight of the prosthetic, but Theia ignored him. The poor guy was clearly shocked, though whether it was from the noise, or something else, The Astra wasn’t sure. Maybe it was her clothes. It was probably because of her clothes. She was (in her humble opinion) incredibly stylish, however, the reaction it elicited from the common folk varied. She was used to it by now, though, and generally just took it in her stride.
There was also a chance that it was actually because of her guns, though Theia sincerely doubted that. It was definitely because of her clothes.
The door clicked as Theia unlocked it. She held it opened for her guest, and gestured inside.
The man hesitated. “Uh, I’m sorry, miss. But company policy says that employees are not to—”
“Management won’t care if you step in for a drink, I guarantee it! I’m a delivery person myself, and I know as a fact that my boss doesn’t mind if I drop in for a quick snack when offered,” she said, cheerily. The man looked her over, taking in her guns and clothes.
“You’re a courier?” he asked, clearly uncertain.
Theia nodded, metal hand pointed towards her chest. “The best in the business, mhm. The Best. The Fastest.”
The courier hesitated again, clearly unsure of what to do. Again, with the delays. No wonder why people complained about the mail service all the time. With slow-witted, indecisive employees, it was a wonder that the postal service ever got anything done.
Dropping the smile, Theia sighed and hung her head. Then she looked up, locking eyes with the confused man. “Look,” she told him, ”I can guarantee you this, kid. Management won’t give a stuff if you drop in occasionally for a cup of tea or anything. They see it as good PR, or ‘public relations’, if anything. As long as you manage to deliver your quota, then why would they care. Seriously, I would know. I work for one of the biggest delivery businesses in the nation. Trust me when I say this; your boss—and their boss—won’t care at all.”
Still obviously unconvinced, the young delivery man frowned. “Which company do you work for?”
Theia grinned. “Oh, I’m self-employed.”
Without any further delay, The Astra put a hand on his back, and pushed him in. For his part, he didn’t protest particularly much, but Theia couldn’t let this one go. He was tall, he was, but not especially large. Unarmed and no visible robotics, always a plus. And quite thin, as people went. Very aerodynamic.
The inside of the apartment was lavishly decorated; a testament to Theia’s opulent wealth and sense of style. Her guest’s eyes bulged slightly when he saw it; a common reaction. Usually, they told her that the inside of the apartment seemed larger—impossibly so—than the outside, though Theia knew better. Sure, the living room was large, but size wasn’t everything. From the crystal chandelier, to the quartz coffee table, paired with the ornate cabinet against the wall, there was no chance he was anything but impressed by her taste.
“So, Mr. Courier, tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?”
Theia darted around the apartment, looking and searching for whatever she had come to find. The man in the delivery uniform put down the box and talked, and talked, telling her about his daily happenings and life. For her part, Theia nodded, and made the occasional comment on a key detail or event to make it seem like she was listening. In reality, she cared very little for the man’s recollection.
Theia did love a good story; it was up there with one of her top Four most loved things. To be specific, she loved interesting stories. This man’s story was not interesting. Not in the slightest. He would never make it onto a talk show, nor would he ever write an autobiography. Or if he did, no one would watch that episode, or purchase a copy; even if it were signed. No, this delivery man had one thi—scratch that, two things going for him.
The first one was a two-parter; his name was David, and he was gullible. The former was linked to the latter, and the latter was backed up by his very presence in Theia’s living room. He’d been very easy to lead on, and rather simple to push forward. Simple to push in a literal, physical sense as well. Which led on to thing number two; as mentioned, he looked very aerodynamic.
“Excuse me?”
The Astra looked up to see her guest looking at her strangely. “Is there a problem?” she asked, smiling.
“Aerodynamic…?”
Theia paused, but kept smiling. Either she’d accidentally said it aloud, or David was a psychic. “Pardon?”
“Aerodynamic,” he said, perplexed. “You just said ‘aerodynamic’. What ar—”
“Planes. Planes, I was thinking about planes!” Theia laughed. A flawless cover; acting worthy of the highest accolades. “So, David—”
“My name is James.”
“That’s what I said. Would you like a drink?” she asked, striding over to the minibar and opening it. A thin, black wallet dropped out from among the many rows of cordial. Frowning, Theia picked up the leather case, sniffed, and pocketed it. Well, that was that sorted at least.
Straightening, she grabbed a glass, rinsed it, and then filled it to the brim with a newly opened bottle. Might be a bit strong for the lad, but he wouldn’t be around long enough to care anyway. What was he doing, anyway?
She looked up and smiled when she saw him gazing out of the window, flummoxed by the view. “Door’s unlocked if you want a better look.”
The young man slid the door open and walked out, growing paler by the second. Probably acrophobic, the poor guy. But that view must’ve been just too tempting to pass on. No one ever expected to see a view from Four hundred, and forty-Four feet from a Fourth floor apartment building, after all. But no one else in town had paid, nevermind thought about getting a sorcerer to enchant their own place. Honestly, magical interior expansion and unit quiddity distortion was pricey.
Leaving the cordial on the counter, she crept towards him and drew her gun from her belt. What was he babbling about? Was it about the view? Of course it was. Was he commenting about the impossibility of it? It was clearly, very possible. How could it be impossible if it was right there, before them? Kids these days just said the darn, stupidest things, honestly.
David still hadn’t turned. That was good. Very good. Maybe he could make it better. “Hey, maybe you can solve a dispute between me and one of my friends,” she said casually, slipping a foot outside. “Could you do me a good one, and count how many shield towers you can see from here?”
“I-I.. Okay, but then I, uh, have to go. I, uh, o-one...”
Put some gusto into it, Thiea thought. Thought. She made sure she only thought it this time. Although if he was a mind reader…
The Astra adjusted her hat, pulling it down slightly.
“Two…”
This was gonna so be good. Theia couldn’t wait to see how far he went. She hadn’t done this in a… well, ever. Actually, she’d never shot anyone off her balcony before, but there was a first for everything.
“Uh, three…”
Grinning, the gunwoman whipped Chiron around and centered it with a flourish. Her finger tightened on the trigger and then—
“Three.”
Theia frowned and blinked. That wasn’t right. Did… Did David not know how to count? “There’re what now?”
“Three towers. I can see three of the shield towers from here,” David stated, somewhat matter-of-factly. And then to further ruin things, he turned. There wasn’t any time to put Chiron away, so she was still flourishing the revolver at him when he turned. Immediately, his eyes boggled and his arms went shot straight up.
Theia rolled her eyes and sighed. This had gone badly. Only way from here was downhill. Slightly annoyed, but unwilling to show it, Theia sternly addressed the delivery man. “Damn it, David, you weren’t supposed to turn. Now you’ve gone and…”
She trailed off, and sighed again. This was horrible. What did she do now? Was it too cliche or worth the effort to explain her plan, and then ask him for his last words? Maybe a memoir? Eh, might as well. She probably wasn’t going to remember it, but it was the thought and gesture that counted. And she had thought of it, afterall.
Her free hand had floated up to her forehead, as it did in trying times. She took it off and gestured roughly towards him, explaining, “All you were meant to do was count the number of shield towers. That meant count all F—”
“Three?” David squeaked, voice unnaturally high.
“There are Four towers, David. Four. See, there’s one, two, three and FO—”
Theia’s phone buzzed, and a moment later, the vocals from her ringtone blasted through the air, cutting her off.
“Ugh, what now?”
With nary a glance, Theia shot David and picked up the call, exasperated. “Yep, hello? Yep, yeah. On my way, yeah. Yeah. Yeahyeahyep. Bye.”
She hung up, holstered Chiron, and then sighed. Typical. Superb. Fabulous. Best. Brushing back a lock of hair, Theia turned to go, but then pivoted and squinted into the bloodshot horizon. There were one, two... three…
The Astra raised an eyebrow. “Huh… Well I’ll be.”
Energy crackled and spat from the rend in reality, the noise audible despite the hum and roar of the engines the airships overhead. The portal hadn’t chosen the most convenient spot to open, being smack bang in the middle of an airstrip. Annoying, but it wouldn’t be there for long, anyway. Hopefully.
The man with the white hair checked the time on his phone. Theia was late, as usual. He’d expected it, although this was time was especially aggravating. If he hadn’t the patience of a Buddhist monk, then he’d probably have gotten fed up by now. It was rather unlikely that she knew what a Buddhist monk was, though. The lady sure did travel a lot, but she may not have been to that world. Nor was she any good at paying attention to obscure details.
There was a loud crackle, and then the sound of a thunderbolt. A blur burst forward from the blue rift, and the portal promptly closed itself. The sound of electric guitar, accompanied by cymbals filled the air, growing louder as Theia sprinted towards him. There’d been one time prior where he’d made the mistake of standing next to the rift when she’d arrived, and almost gotten pancaked as a result. Not wanting to relive a similar experience—nor die from one—the white haired man had made a mental note to give her portals a very wide, kilometer-long berth. It was through sheer luck that there hadn’t been anything on the runway when this portal had popped. That could’ve been messy. Luckily, the next scheduled arrival wasn’t for another few hours, though there were plenty of ships around.
The man adjusted his glasses. There was a sudden gust of wind, and then Theia—in all her speedy, ‘stylish’ and incredibly, impressively, atypically late glory—was there, looping around and doffing her hat. She looked the same as ever; from the clothes, to the gun and the lateness. That was probably the first point to address.
“You’re late,” he said, showing her the home screen.
Theia bowed low, gesturing theatrically. She took off her hat in a possibly-insincere display of sincerity, though he couldn’t be sure. To be fair, it was hard to tell with the lady. “I am terribly sorry about that. Public Transport was especially bad, and I haven’t the slightest bit of influence with the Traffic Gods.”
“This is a new standard, Theia. I just want to be sure that even you know how late you are.” The man took his phone back and scrolled. He pulled up the calendar and showed her the schedule. “That’s when I had booked in.”
The gunwoman frowned, squinting at the entry. “And why the hell would you book it so early?”
“Because you said ‘four’. You said ‘Let’s just say four’; those were your exact words. I recorded them.”
“Well then, that’s your fault. Also, it’s not four, it’s Four.”
“Those are the exact same words. Listen,“ The man raised a hand to his forehead, clearly becoming exasperated, ”When you say four—”
“It’s Fo—”
“Don’t interrupt me. When you said four in that context, I took it to mean four minutes. Minutes, Theia, minutes.”
Theia shrugged. “Okay, I’m a few hours late. So wha—”
“Days. You’re a few days late. Four days late. Not minutes, not hours. Days. Four days.” He emphasised and drew out each set of ‘days’, hoping that she’d get the point. What a naive hope.
“Hey, there are hours within days. Multiple, even. It’s also not my fault that you decided to take it as minutes instead of days. You should have clarified if you weren’t sure.” She held up a black wallet, waving it around in front of him. “Besides, I had to get this. It has my ID.”
He stared at her, and spoke slowly. “And why would you need your ID?”
“You might want to check it.”
At this point, the man wanted to smash his phone but held back. He was pretty certain the warranty had run out a few months ago. Instead, he contented himself with trying to strangle the air. “I know who you are. We’ve met before; many times, as a matter of fact. Far too many. Why the hell would I want to check your ID?”
“You know, cross reference. Make sure I am who I say I am. Check my qualifications, online reviews… the usual,” she said, smiling broadly.
Screw it. He threw his phone on the ground, smashing it to pieces, and then stalked away, beckoning for her to follow with a gesture. Grinning from ear to ear, Theia followed him, an extra bounce in her step.
She caught up to him easily, though it took longer than expected. The man walked fast; much faster than most people. He seemed calmer now, more focused on the business at hand. You couldn’t tell, with most of his face being hidden by a scarf, but it was in his posture. His gait. It seemed more urgent now, rather than anything else.
Timing her pace to match with his, Theia waited Four seconds, coughed politely, and asked “So, where are we heading now, Vox?”
Vox shot her a quick glance. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and then spoke. “We have a problem that’s been cropping up over the past few years in one of the Neutral Realms. Home to a city, named Bren.”
“Fair enough. When do we leave?”
“After modification,” he replied simply, and Theia’s smile dipped slightly. Lightning streaked across the crimson red skies, and a dull thrum from a cruiser pulsed through her synthetics. It was as though the scene was set up to enhance the forebode she must have felt. Modification. Not Theia’s favourite words to hear, he reckoned.
“So, uh. About that pay. I’m going to need a down payment on that...” Vox didn’t say anything, so Theia continued. “A job in the Neutral Realms is fine, but it’s going to cost you extra, especially with ‘modification’. That’s on top of the price that you quoted me earl-”
“You’ll get paid, whatever you want,” Vox said, pulling out another phone, ”A fifty percent deposit, upfront.”
“Make it forty-Four.”
“Done.”
Theia grinned, worries instantly forgotten. Getting her around your finger was easy. You just needed to know what it was that she loved. There weren’t many of them, but money was one. Money was a big one.
They were at the end of the airstrip now, and were approaching a vast, stupendously huge cylindrical-shaped building. Lights glittered and smoke wafted from its many levels and landings above them, it’s countless levels stretching deep into the raging, bloody skies. There were similar structures dotted all over the surface of the planet. A few hundred of them, all dedicated to the construction, outfitting and armament of the Grand Army’s warships.
The shipyards had other functions as well, however. Many of which Theia was all too familiar with.
“So when do I get paid?” she asked, as they entered the complex. The corridors themselves were vast, illuminated every few meters by a pair of low power energy crystals.
“After modification,” Vox said, putting away his phone.
The Astra smiled; a brilliant, toothy smile. “When do we start?”
Modification sucked. That was the best way to put it. There were many other ways it was bad, but they were far too numerous to list down. Modifications were definitely nearer towards the top of the list, though. Just under taxes and a touch above traffic lights.
Unfortunately, modification in this instance had been necessary, since they were doing this one ‘by the book’. ‘By the book’ apparently meant that all unsecured magitech had to be adjusted to more befitting levels of the destination realm. Which was, by her book, incredibly irritating.
Top speed was down, weapon lethality was down. Down, down; everything was down. How she was supposed to get anything done, Theia had no idea. When she shot Four people, she expected Four corpses. She didn’t want *three* angry or incapacitated people, and another one bleeding out.
The two of them were sitting in a mostly abandoned inn on the far side of Bren. Whether far side referred to North, South, East or West, Theia hadn’t the foggiest. All she knew was that it was on the opposite side of the city from which they had entered from, and that there was virtually no one (worth knowing) in the district. So that made it the far side of town. No one ever lived in the far side of town; there wasn’t any point living there! Resale value was low, growth was low, life was (s)low, and the number of jobs on offer was low. Four horrible, low things. Rubbish. Trash. Garbage. Litter.
Speaking of Rubbish & co., the inn they were staying at was probably one of the shadiest pieces of fecal matter that Theia had ever stayed at. The rooms were claustrophobically small, and heinously musty; as small and musty as the sole bartender, who looked like he was growing mould in place of his hair. He stood behind the counter, cleaning a grimy glass with an even filthier rag, and occasionally shot them an equally dirty look. Whenever he glanced over, Theia gave him a cheery wave and he scowled.
Most people would think that the barkeep was merely annoyed that she had her feet up on the table. Others would guess that it was because the pair of them had sat down at a table without ordering anything. A few would guess that it was because Theia had made the stuffed bear next to the door wear her precious hat. Which,Theia would agree, was probably it.
Envy was a funny thing. Unlike the rest of the place, the horned bear had actually looked clean, if not a little… deceased. But with her hat on, it looked even better. Still a bit dead, but it was a stylish dead bear. With horns. The stout little innkeep probably wished that he could be that stylish, or at least had horns.
There was a snapping coming from the seat to her right; the sound of someone clicking their fingers. Theia looked over at Vox, who was snapping his fingers in front of her. She stared at him, perplexed. That man had no sense of rhythm or timing. There wasn’t even any music playing. “You alright?” she asked, a bit concerned.
“I’ve been trying to get your attention back for the past 5 minutes,” he said, lying back in his seat.
“Well you didn’t do a very good job!” she laughed. “How can I help?”
“So do you understand the gist of it?”
“The gist of what?”
“God damn it, Theia,” he groaned, leaning back in his chair.
Vox took a deep breath, composed himself, and sat up straight. He then pulled out two small crystals from his belt, and rolled them on to the desk. The gems lit up, projecting two magical images into the air. The first image showed a puzzled-looking man with ivory skin, in a shimmering, sapphire cloak. He was leaning against a gate, facing a tall, glowing lady. A black, unidentifiable blur a few feet above him.
The other image depicted what appeared to be a scene from a movie. A young man, lay on the ground, while a similar-looking woman in a coat stood over him. The woman was snarling, and twisting to the side, to avoid the lunge of a grinning, emerald-caped woman. Her skin was the same color as the man in the first image.
Theia leaned in and frowned. The gunwoman looked closely at the projections, staring intensely. Then she grinned and leaned back, pointing at the first image. “That one.”
“Excuse me?”
“That one. The lady in that one’s dressed better. That kid in the first one looks like his mother dressed him.”
Vox clicked his tongue, or whatever he had beneath that scarf. She wasn’t entirely sure that he had a mouth. It would certainly explain a lot. “Theia? I’m going to try and keep this one short. So if you shut up and listen, I’ll give you a bonus.”
Theia folded her legs and sat straight up in her seat. Her employer wasn’t any fun—staring at him for too long gave her a headache—but if she was getting paid for it, then she could listen. For a little while, at least.
The white-haired man inhaled again, and then started his explanation. “Over the past couple of years, an Army officer and an ex-Army veteran have encountered these two individuals here, in this city. They’re the ones with the fancy capes.”
“They look pretty nifty.”
“They are,” Vox admitted. “Both encounters ended in violent confrontations. The first was, admittedly, provoked. We did manage to, uh, acquire the individual for a period of time, but he seemed unusually opposed to any recompense that we offered.”
“Maybe you should’ve offered him your coat.” Theia suggested, but Vox ignored her.
“The second time was an unprovoked assault. Some associates of ours were attacked en route to our airship. We attempted to capture the woman, but she eluded our efforts.”
“Which is where you come in.” He powered off each of the crystals and put them away.
Theia frowned, and unfolded her legs. She was pretty sure she’d heard that phrase in half of the spy broadcasts she’d watched. Was she a spy now? She didn’t really want to be a spy. “You need me to be a spy?”
Vox snorted, then coughed. “Sure. If you want.”
“I do not. I absolutely do not want to be a spy.”
“Then you don’t need to be a spy.” Vox assured her. “Just run around and if you see someone that has a fancy cloak, then capture them.”
The Astra’s grin turned into a frown once again. Capture? Like a poacher, but with people? A people poacher? Well, so long as it paid and didn’t involve eggs, then Theia was game.
Or, well. Technically, those cloaked people were game.
“So then, do we have a deal?” Vox asked, steepling his fingers.
Theia looked at him, inquiringly. “Does it involve eggs?”
The man paused, and then shook his head. “No eggs.”
“Do I get to keep their cloaks?”
Vox nodded slowly. “Okay.”
The Astra shot him her brilliant, award-winning smile. “Then we have a deal.”
The two stood up and went their separate ways. Vox went to the back of the tavern, intrigued by the billiards table, whilst Theia went to earn her pay. She picked up her hat off the still-dead bear, shot a rude gesture to the innkeeper when he wasn’t looking, and then went about her way.
The city of Bren was large, and it certainly had a wide range of, well, everything. It wasn’t exactly a sprawling metropolis, which was what Theia was used to. Nor was there any reception here; not that it mattered.
Before they’d arrived, her phone had been confiscated by a few Army engineers. Apparently, the phone counted as ‘unsecured magitech’, but she was absolutely certain that Vox was just annoyed that he’d accidentally broken his first phone. Of course he was. That man really needed to relax, and destress a little.
So, to start off any worthwhile hunt, she needed to know about her prey. In all honesty, Theia really wished that Vox had given her some more details. A man or woman who was wearing a fancy cape, and who had a complexions reminiscent of her wallpaper. If that man had wanted her to do a good job, the least he could do was give her a proper briefing. That pitiful talk had been… what, three minutes? Under Four, that much was certain.
The Astra strode along the street, cutting seamlessly through the city crowds. She wandered on to a small footbridge, and stopped, looking at the large, unfamiliar structure on the other side. It was large, this one. Not as large as a shipyard, but still big. Bigger than her apartment, at least. It was possible.
Theia looked around, doing her best to figure out where she was. She hadn’t seen this building before, that was certain. Was she lost? No, that wasn’t possible. There was no way that she—Theia Eris Fhenn d’Astra—could simply get lost. No, Theia wasn’t lost. Theia was very lost.
Her hand went to her vest pocket, and came back with nothing but her wallet and realm watch. Without a phone, the best she could do was spend the rest of the day running around and hoping to find their dingy little inn again. That seemed like a waste of time, though.
She looked up again, at the large structure across the bridge. Maybe there was a map or something that she could buy in there. Hopefully they took card.
“Well, after I asked them for directions, they told me I was in the right spot and gave me a form to sign. I thought that they were just asking for billing details since they didn’t know what I meant by ‘card’, but in the end, they gave me the directions for free.” Theia explained, to a slightly nonplussed Vox.
Vox adjusted his spectacles. He grabbed a piece of scarf and wiped the lenses, without removing the glasses from his face. “Right. Okay. So what element did you sign up for?”
“Speed.”
“Speed isn’t an element, Theia.”
She sniffed. “If you’re going to be like that, it never will be. A lightning bolt.”
“Energy. That works, I guess.”
“Lightning is fast. I’m also pretty fast.” She held up her realm watch and wallet to him. “Hang on to these for me. I don’t want to get them dirty.”
Vox took the items and inspected them, squeezing the wallet a few times. Theia grinned. That was top-grade calfskin, that was.
He pocketed the items and nodded. “I’ll meet you here once you’re done. Have fun. I’ll be watching you from the stands.”
The gun-for-hire frowned. “Don’t you have a job to do?” she puzzled.
Vox shrugged. “Seeing as you’re going to be in there, I’d say this operation is in the dustbin. I didn’t bring a gun or a sword with me, so.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“The brass. I blame the brass, and their oodles of red tape. Enough to wrap an airship,” he said, stifling a yawn.
Theia smirked, imagining a gift wrapped airship. “I thought you were part of the brass?”
“A single branch in a forest of trees. Put on a good show, Theia.” He turned, and walked into the complex, a hand raised in farewell. Theia watched him go, then grinned to herself and walked into the building. This was going to be fun.
She’d expected to find an attendant or someone to lead her to the Arena. Maybe a steward, or a squire even. She was expecting a squire; maybe some poor, miscreant that would polish her boots. Instead, what she found was a very empty torchlit passageway.
The passageway was rather long, and it eventually ended with a door. Or that her, a gate. A grate. A very rusty, poorly maintained gate grate. Perhaps that was part of the aesthetic, but Theia didn’t do rust. It just wasn’t her look. Some people might have argued differently, and that was fine. Afterall, people were entitled to their opinions. So long as they were aware that incorrect opinions existed, then there wouldn’t be any problems.
As The Astra took her first steps into the Arena, her audio player burst into life, playing a heavy track filled with drums, and jarring amounts of bass. This definitely wasn’t one of hers. The tracks she listened to generally a very specific speed, pace, tempo or timing. It was all about the timing. Yes, she’d have to time this properly. Couldn’t mess this up like she had with David.
Theia thought hard about that time. It had been a few days since that time. How was David doing, she wondered.
There was a loud scream of unliked metal as the grate in front of her ascended. Theia let the track continue to play as she got into her position. She spun a Four times and then bowed, once in each cardinal direction for the audience. The Astra straightened up, and adjusted her clothes, starting with the cape on her arm. A dust of her vest, tilt of her hat, and lastly, a tug on her tie.
So, who had volunteered to die? How many were there…?
Four! There appeared to be Four other competitors in the Arena. Four challengers. Four opponents. Four targets.
Mmmmm... Perfection.
Who were they? Who?
A slightly-scaled giant of a man. Those scales would probably make for a great belt. Or a wallet. Hmm, reptilian. She didn’t have that much reptile goods.
A young man that appeared to have spilled liquid paper in his hair.
A monk. Theia didn’t have much to say about that. She and monks were like opposites, really. Poverty really didn’t do it for her.
The gate to Theia’s left was devoid of any competitor. It appeared that some had let their pet off its leash, though. Luckily, Theia only had three accounts of animal cruelty to her name.
The competitor directly to Theia’s right reminded her of an amusement park she’d been to before. A Mister Bones stood next to her, like an edgy, mobile coat stand.
The music had calmed to a near stop at this stage, barely audible over the din caused by the audience. Theia could still hear it though; a dull, but reverberating thrum in the background. As though building the anticipation for the start of the slaughter.
There was a soft click as Chiron left it’s holster. Theia flourished it through the air, as though for all to see. Her free hand lay on her belt, hovering just over her music player. She had the perfect music for this. One of her favourites.
An announcement sounded over head, it’s words instinctively almost making Theia forget to tap her audio player. Honour? Glory? Oh god, was she fighting in one of those games?
The sound cut off immediately as the next track loaded.
A wide grin on her face, The Astra quickly hopped to it. Or to be specific, Theia ran to it. A timed, run, slightly faster than a jog. Timed being the most important word.
One… two… three.
She counted the seconds as she ran, gunning straight for the center. It was barely a beat past three that she arrived at the orb, and the exact same moment the keyboard played.
Chiron in hand, finger on its trigger, Theia whipped it rapidly around, flourishing it at the orb in a declaration of combat.
... Four.
The revolver flashed, and the orb shot forth, directly at her opposite.
The Astra holstered her gun swiftly, and then moved, a brilliant grin on her face.
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