[ 03 ]
FOR A LONG TIME, Sasha had known that this moment would come. She'd always imagined it, dreamed of it, even. She'd yearned for it to caress her skin, its touch like ambrosia soaking into her flesh. An escape at last, into the outside world and the people with it. Sure, she'd seen people before, but the life that they'd led had been an extremely sheltered one, and outside of Crux agents and handlers, the only people that she'd met were news reporters, scientists and government officials. No real people to share their real stories and feelings.
The people that she'd met were little plastic figures, perfect and flawless and shiny, not a hair out of place, stiff clothes and even stiffer conversation, if you could even call it that. Cardboard cutouts of a real person, one-dimensional beings that were caricatures of the inhabitants of Semper City. Sasha wondered what it would be like to meet a real person, not like the ones you saw on TV. Teenagers with braces and acne and frizzy hair, adults with wrinkled faces and suits, shoes scuffed and the city air in their lungs.
She held back an exhale of awe as the crowd parted, revealing a young woman with a heavy dress and an embroidered apron, a scarf folded over her light brown hair, curls evading the hem. The woman was singing something about the fruit of the forest, her voice rich and smooth, reminding Sasha of pouring silk and delicate chocolate. Different flags ran from the corners of the square, fairy lights twinkling as the drum boomed. People listened, and Sasha held back a grin when she realised that they were as mesmerised as she was. This was what it was like to be a person alive in Semper City.
Able to see the things that they found beautiful, whether it was their country, family or lover. Sometimes her country was her lover, whispering secrets and lullabies in its gossamer tongue. Other times it had been her sanctuary, a place with her sister and grandmother, where she could always feel welcome. Until they had taken that from her as well, along with everything else in her life. Sasha had been the replacement for Narcissa Corvus after she'd escaped, the thirteen-year-old sister of a musical prodigy with a voice that dwarfed Petra's in comparison and all of the tact that she had not been blessed with.
Her accent still thick, and her Usnayan still seamless, and the pang in her heart still fresh, Sasha had known ever since that long airplane ride with a grill over her mouth and unfamiliar people speaking English with accents that she hadn't known really existed. The foreign land was America, she'd been told by a man with a black suit and shoddy Usnayan. She'd never been in America before, only seen it on TV. They were full of mean blonde girls and muscly boys, cheerleaders and lockers and things like homecoming. In Sasha's school, they'd walked from their homes and ran around fields as their parents worked.
Four years had passed, and Sasha's English was even better, but she hadn't forgotten anything about home, her real home.
She wondered whether her grandmother was even still alive, whether the men who had taken her had kept Petra and the old woman safe. Sasha hoped that they had - and if they hadn't, she would make them pay, every last one of them.
Her train of thought was interrupted as a familiar black-haired boy in her line of vision, looking distantly queasy. Wildfire, his skin faintly greenish, gripped Sasha's arm. bringing the sleeve of her hoodie over her hand. It hid the tattoo on the inside of her wrist, an array of nonsensical English letters. She was distracted from peering at it as Wildfire gagged at her feet, bent over and clutching his stomach.
Coughing and retching, his eyes watered and his lips formed her name - "Sash."
"Hey, get up! Wildfire, we do not have time for this," Sasha hissed through gritted teeth, pulling him up. He was heavier than she'd once remembered him to be, only a small challenge. Physical strength wasn't usually something Sasha needed to rely on, but the situation had been compromised - using her power was way out of the question.
She apologised as she pushed through the crowd that had gathered in the square, muttering alternating between English and Usnayan. Whether they understood her, she didn't know, but she went on anyway, firmly clasping his arm and guiding him into a side street that was littered with empty beer bottles and smashed up dumpsters, even a cat curled up in a corner, claw marks on the brick wall beside it. Teeth chattering with a sudden chill as she pulled her hoodie further over her hair, Sasha pulled up Wildfire so that he was leaning against the wall.
"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, scuffing her shoes on the dumpster as she tugged at his shirt. "You could've gotten us captured, or killed - stop attracting attention, dude!"
"Sash," Wildfire said calmly.
She bit her lip, and realised that she was holding back angry tears. Blinking hastily, she let him speak, cheeks flushing from a mixture of cold air and annoyance.
"I did it to shake off a woman. The singer - she was tracking us, I'm sure of it. When you were getting all starry-eyed about your precious country, I was watching her."
Shooting him a dirty look, Sasha let out a dry laugh. "Very good. Did you have fun?"
Wildfire sighed exasperatedly. "You know what I mean..."
"No, I do not-"
"Shut up. So, I was observing her, and she was talking to a man once she stopped her performance. In perfect English, which isn't suspicious on its own, but pretty sketchy when she called him 'Agent'. Unless it's a crappy Homeland mission for another small-time arms dealer to something, I think it's safe to say that they're part of Crux. Unless you have a better suggestion."
"I do," Sasha prodded, lips chapped from the cold. "They could be agents from Usnaya. I mean, it is not far out of the realm of possiblity, I understand?"
"It's a possibility, but not likely. Usnaya has their fair share of superhumans. I've been meaning to ask about it-"
A noise ringing in Sasha's ears made her clamp a hand over Wildifire's mouth, heart racing. She couldn't help but notice how warm his skin was compared to hers, but pushed that thought away for the moment, inclining her head so that her hair flooded backwards and tucked behind her ears. Fortunately, Wildfire didn't try to protest. He had faith in her, she knew it. He'd always had, even when everyone else made her feel like even more of an outcast than she already was. An Usnayan immigrant, far away from a family that she'd actually known, and he had been kind to her. Well, not exactly kind, per say, but treated her as a friend in his weird little ways.
Teased her, challenged her to sparring, let her wear his black belt when her blue one was too weak for Sasha to feel any confidence. All while she cried herself to sleep every night, and nearly every night, she saw two hazy figures in her doorway in the darkness, one slouching in baggy clothes, the other in tight t-shirts and a presence of a prince. Not the evil useless kind, the valiant one that didn't slay dragons, instead reasoned with them. The peacemaker, not a warmonger. Finn was magical, enchanting to everyone with his strength and charisma and sweetness, but he wasn't like Wildfire. Finn was Crux's golden boy, and Sasha couldn't stop the gentle waves of resentment that lapped at her feet every time she saw him.
Not his fault. Just the world's, as it tended to be with many things in her life.
Not the world's fault, sometimes. Just her own.
Following the noise, Sasha cleared her throat as a man stepped out from the shadows, grinding his teeth and clutching a gun, bullets grinning around his belt. His jacket was heavy with semi-concealed weapons, and with every movement, a hilt or two stuck out like a sore thumb. Before she even had time to think, he pounced forward, brutal and heavy, blocking off her windpipe with a weighted fist.
Spluttering, Sasha tried to kick him off, but despite his lack of agility, he was a remarkably good fighter. And she couldn't use her power, because he'd successfully blocked off her voice. She wondered how long she would survive, her thoughts fading away until it was just the slow sound of herself being strangled. But she knew that she wouldn't die, not for a while, anyway. Because as long as she stood with Finn and Wildfire, she would be alive. Not a happy life, but a life nonetheless.
For now, that was all that mattered.
As she prepared to lose consciousness, the man suddenly rolled off her, screaming. Fiery handprints were etched into his skin, his face bubbling nauseatingly. Sasha felt as sick as Wildfire looked, beads of sweat rolling down their skin with the heat of the fire. Though he couldn't be burned, she certainly could. Stepping away, she rose to her feet, and Wildfire arched an eyebrow questioningly.
"You or me?" his expression inquired.
Sasha sighed, and opened her mouth. That answered his question efficiently, and he folded his arms, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his hoodie. A tinny sound left her lips, and a shiver went down her spine.
Wildfire got a pair of foam earbuds out of his pocket and shoved them into his ears, covering them with his hands as he did. If he heard her singing, Sasha knew that he'd be dead within the hour. Not because her singing was bad - no, it was to the complete contrary.
There were a few names that Sasha Sperova was known by. One of them?
The Siren.
Like the mythological creatures, infamous for their abilities to drag sailors beneath the stormy depths of the sea with just their song. All her life, Sasha had resented herself for what she was, but she had to admit: it was a blessing at times.
"Listen to the waves," she sang in Usnayan, voice low and dangerous. "Can you hear them scream?"
The would-be assassin thrashed on the floor, clawing at his already burnt face. Sasha watched the life fade from him as he seized his own neck, pushing and twisting until he was purple. Holding back a gag of disgust, Sasha took a step back, nearly falling over onto Wildfire. Her feet skidded on the wet ground where the fire had melted the frost, and she found herself holding onto her friend's shoulders as she steadied herself.
"Sorry," she muttered, not looking back. The reminder was there and she wanted to avoid it for all long as possible, though she knew that it wouldn't be very long at all.
Wildfire's expression softened, the harsh angles of his face curving as it broke into a reassuring smile. "It's ok."
He quickly threw his arms around Sasha, turning her away as they hugged. Squeezing her hand, he guided her down the other end of the alley, away from the crowd and further into the dark.
For a moment, they stood still as he rummaged in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. Edges frayed and yellowed, with a pencilled address written hastily, the colour a faded grey. He'd been in a rush, or pressed awfully light. But as Sasha leaned in closer to read it, she realised that it was her own hasty scrawl. Releasing a cough as icy air poured into her lungs, Sasha slowly pried the paper from Wildfire's fingers and read it.
Over and over again, until the words were tattooed into her mind. As she exhaled, a cloud of steam exploded in the air, and she pulled the collar of her hoodie over her nose, walking as lightly as she could muster.
She could still hear the crowd laughing and chatting in a mixture of Usnayan and English. Though Sasha hadn't met many personally, she knew that Semper City was home to thousands of her people - whether they were still her people, she no longer knew. Four years away from home had done many things to meddle with her head, and adopting Semper as another home was one of them.
If a man's home was his castle, then she simply had two cottages. Neither close enough to her heart, not for a long time, but both still parts of her. Sasha wondered whether other Usnayans felt the same, but that thought drifted away as Wildfire began to speak, pulling the foam earplugs out from his ears and shoving his hands back into his pockets.
"We need to get there by night-time. It's too dangerous then, and we don't want-" he gestured behind them, where the body must've laid - Sasha didn't want to look. "That to happen again."
Sasha held back a sob, teeth chattering and hands shaking. She'd never wanted to be a monster, a murderer, but that was what they'd made of her, all of them. They were all guilty. Black eyebrows furrowing, Wildfire took her hand, running his thumb over her palm.
"Don't blame yourself, Sash. If you hadn't done it, he'd have killed us." Sasha blinked the tears away, and his voice cracked ever-so-slightly. "Please, Sash."
The sadness in his voice made Sasha want to cry even more, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to straighten her hunched back and square her shoulders. With a small sigh, she started down the street, following Wildfire and reading the slip of paper over and over again. Waiting for it to drum into her head, bidding for herself to be able to understand it.
Get it through her thick skull, before she fucked it up like everything else in her life.
She hated herself and her hideous powers sometimes, she really did.
[ end ]