GOLDEN AGE | ON HIATUS

X | NARCISSA

She observed the rest of the group before standing up as well. "Yeah, me too. Mine and Finn's weapons are in the same place, anyway."

Wildfire- Jasper, rather - cleared his throat with a good-natured ahem, masking what sounded to be a scoff.

If he knew about what had happened before she'd left-

It didn't matter, it was dumb anyway. They'd only been kids, it didn't matter. They were different people now, weren't they? The thought quavered in her mind, but she didn't muster enough energy to reply, saving it for more important matters. Namely, which gun would take out the most Crux agents without actually killing them.

Rendering them unconscious? Tame.

Injuring a limb or two? Better.

Putting them into moderately short comas, at least by her terms? Perfect.

Something to give them a bit of brain damage, just enough to get them out of the way. She wouldn't kill them, not if they weren't the direct cause of the rogue-ness. That would only come into play for snitches or traitors. Besides, Crux and/or the city jails had enough medical funding to get them out of the coma as soon as the Mayor allowed them to.

Unless Roswell Roth had gone bad, too - a traitor, as he'd always been.

As Narcissa followed Finn down the hallway, she couldn't help thinking of how much of a traitor she was.

~•~

A LONG TIME AGO, somebody had told her that the world was a steaming cockpit of trouble and chaos. Or maybe that had been something that she'd told herself, missing her parents in the months after their deaths, or missing her life in the months after running away. Either way, whoever had said that had definitely been right; the situation before her was proving that.

She'd vowed never to be Semper's hero, but as soon as they needed her, she accepted their offer with open arms. What was she doing with miserable life? Thinking about it made her realise a bitter laugh, causing Finn to look up from the bullets he was organising and give her an annoyingly understanding look, one that girls would've swooned over.

Narcissa was not one to swoon, but even she felt its effects - a strange flip-flop in her chest. Taking a deep lungful of musty air, she wafted a cloud of dust away from her face, wondering how Ayana survived living in such a huge place alone. Usually, it bustled to the brim with activity, most of it criminal, but tonight it was deadly still, a predator waiting to strike and swallow them in its ravenous jaws.

Her gaze met Finn's awkwardly, and as she fumbled for something to say, the most stupid thing that had ever been asked left her lips.

"So. Is Sasha an alto or a soprano?"

Spare the brief crease of confusion that went over his unfairly attractive face, Finn answered her with a grin. "Mezzo. She can go low enough to be creepy, but high enough for it to be pretty." Looking back down at the bullets, he added, "You're an alto."

"How do you know?" Though she'd intended for it to be a simple question, her voice sounded more like a mob boss threatening a snitch.

Ignoring the unintended darkness in her tone, Finn wrinkled his nose, an eyebrow raised, comically impervious. "I used to hear you sing, sometimes. Don't think you saw me, though."