[ 06 ]
EASTERN SEMPER was where Sasha should've belonged, with scum and street rats and cheap perfume. Fake jewellery, languages the real residents, from the Northside and the Southside didn't understand apart from a few words, and Westerns were too proud to bother learning.
Eastern Semper was cheap and dirty, building work around every corner that never seemed to actually do anything other than provide its residents with noise that their smashed windows couldn't block out.
Eastern Semper was a place where people could live their lives without much input from anyone that mattered to them. A bad thing as much as a good one - it was a hotspot for anarchists and troublemakers, teenagers doing dumb stuff to try and "summon" a hero, or a Crux operative that could deal with the things the police couldn't.
Eastern Semper was not where Sasha belonged, as much as she tried to convince herself to the contrary.
For the four years she'd been with Crux, she'd waited every day to escape to Eastern Semper, where other Usnayans had taken up residence, living in a thriving community. She'd wished every night to join them, live amongst them, but now as she walked the streets, she was no longer as sure of herself.
Truth be told, walking through the tightly-packed buildings, some new and sleek and others so old that they were physically crumbling, windows shattered and doors ajar, their residents not even caring about safety anymore, Sasha couldn't have felt more out of place.
It wasn't the appearance - no, that was exactly what she'd anticipated - but the energy she could feel in a cool night air that brushed against her face. She felt almost as left out as Wildfire had looked at the Usnayan festival, and a fresh wave of guilt washed over Sasha for making him go with her.
She could feel him now, his liquid brown eyes flickering over her every so often, his warm breath tingling against the back of her neck. There was nothing she wanted more than to open her mouth and speak, but she knew that now was not the time for idle chatter, not when they were so close. No paper was hidden in her pocket, no address typed up on a phone.
In her mind however, it had been tattooed, so many times that the words had carved themselves a home in her skull. It was unlikely that Sasha would forget, anyway - not when this was the moment she'd been waiting for for so long. During the past year, she'd been tracking the servers and slowly disabling connections from Crux, trying to find any mentions of a family member in Semper.
She hadn't necessarily wanted to escape to them, but rather to simply know that there was someone there, that she wasn't alone, as much as it felt like it at times. Mostly, she wasn't lonely, with Wildfire by her side and Finn always near, that too-perfect people-pleasing smile on his too-perfect people-pleasing face.
Sasha wondered whether Finn had yet to meet with Narcissa Corvus - or whether he'd even managed to get to her. But privately, she knew that as much as the Scarlet Serpent masqueraded behind peeling wallpaper and apartments long-abandoned, Sasha also knew that Narcissa wasn't omnipresent. As much as the Scarlet Serpent tried to make people believe it, she did not know everything.
The girl was somewhat of a genius, Sasha had heard that, but she'd also heard that she was brutal, conniving and too egotistical for her own good. Depending on who she asked, of course - those were what the Crux operatives said about her. But if she asked Finn or Wildfire, and she had, countless roles, they said that she was faster, stronger, smarter and more talented than anyone that they had ever met before.
Not that they had met many people before, but Sasha supposed that speaking before the US Senate and the United Nations had provided them with some sort of view on people's abilities in the world, as narrow of a view as it may've been. In the world of Crux, Narcissa Corvus was a legend, one shrouded the dark fog of a late autumn night, leaves crumpled and the air bitter.
And Sasha was just her replacement.
She couldn't help the sting of jealousy that arrived every time she thought of the Scarlet Serpent, guilt almost outweighing it as quickly as the jealousy had arrived.
You're valid, Sash.
They care about you.
You aren't second-best.
It was only when they were halfway across the street that Sasha realised she'd been thinking in English the whole time. That moment of realisation felt like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of her and filling her eyes with glassy tears that swept out silently, hot and salty as they travelled down her cheeks and soaked her lips.
"Sash? Are you ok?" Wildfire asked, his voice clumsy. He was trying to speak Usnayan, the little words that she'd taught him centuries ago, when he had been trying to reassure her and be her friend.
Sasha wanted to cry harder, but she didn't.
Instead, she focused on the address embedded in her mind, blinking away the tears and clenching her fists so tightly that her uncut nails left jagged crescents in her palms. The street names, on ragged panels that were so low and broken that they almost brushed against the pavement, glared at her as she took hasty steps, being careful to be as quiet as she could.
Finally, Sasha took a deep breath, mustering up the courage and willpower to speak. She could see it in Wildfire's expression that he desperately wanted to say something, but swallowed it. This time, she decided, she would be the one to start the conversation. She wouldn't be the one who would disappoint like she always did.
Just this once, she would do it.
She didn't do it.
The lone figure interrupted their silence, baggy trousers flapping around their ankles and a sagging backpack strung over one shoulder, a headphone wire poking out through the broken zip. As they got closer, Sasha found herself clutching Wildfire's hand, her own cold and clammy, heart thundering. Whether it was fear or wild hope, she didn't know. But they waited for the figure to pass, just another face in the crowd, Sasha's breathing became heavy and her knees threatened to buckle beneath her.
After a moment, the light of the streetlamp caught their face, and she swallowed so viciously that her throat felt as if it were about to snap in two.
It was a young woman, in her late teens or early twenties, with dark eyes and even darker bags under them. And with the sight of those eyes, of that face, Sasha wanted to cry again.
A single, desperate word left her cracked lips.
"Petra?"
The girl turned around, inky eyes widening and knuckles tightening around the strap of her backpack. She looked so scared and helpless, like a wounded little animal on the forest floor, wailing for its mother. But Petra wasn't wailing - she straightened her back and brushed the stray strands of brown hair out of her face that had escaped her braid, pursing her lips into a tight line. Her hands were calloused, scabs forming over those knuckles, bone pressing into white skin, drained of its colour.
Bruises were scattered over her face and neck, even the skin that peeked out of the collar of her sweatshirt. Sasha couldn't help it - she ran forward, sobbing while she did so. Petra squinted at her in confusion, murmuring in Usnayan to herself until Sasha forced the words out of her mouth.
"Petra. It's me, Sasha."
Saying her own name in her own language felt almost strange. She realised how it felt, foreign and long-lost on her tongue. Clinging to Petra's scent, she buried her face in her sister's collar, breathing in the smell. Once, she'd smelled like honey, gathering it in the summer from their grandmother's hives before the stroke had left the old woman unable to walk. Once, those dark circles had been from nights spent playing outside with other children in the village till daybreak arrived and their mothers along with it, scolding everyone for staying up so late.
Now, the sight of her made Sasha want to scream with fury.
Not directed at her. Vengeance for Semper City and Sasha herself, for making Petra that way.
"Sasha? But you..." Petra trailed off, hazel eyes snapping shut as tears leaked from them. Her shoulders shook, body weakening with sobs. "You're so tall. Taller than Baba would've been-" her voice cracked, and she released a soft tinkle of laughter.
Her Usnayan was perfect.
Sasha wondered how long her sister had been in the city - long enough to have been swallowed by its ravenous jaws, apparently. Taking Petra's hand in hers, she looked down. She had grown, Petra was right, but she hadn't taken much notice until now. The last time that she had held her older sister's hand was when they were being wrenched apart as Petra roared on the doorstep of their house in Usnaya, their Baba sat on her chair outside, peeling potatoes and too ill to say anything that would make sense, far too ill to argue or resist in any way.
It was when the Americans came. Crux Agents, Sasha had learnt. At first, she'd hated them so bitterly that they didn't dare look at her. After a while, she stopped hating them. No, that wasn't right - she'd kept her hate inside, until it licked at her organs and poisoned her from the inside out. They were poison, all of them. Everyone in Semper was poison, glorifying people who stole children from the only things they had under the guise of salvation. They thought they were saviours, they really did. But Sasha Sperova knew that they were not.
They were monsters, all of them.
Superheroes.
The word made her want to laugh. It was a combination of the two most nonsensical English words that she knew. Yet in Semper City, they adored it so much. They adored her, at least when they weren't gossiping about why Narcissa Corvus had gone rogue in the first place. Gossiping about why Sasha was even here, when they had such a strong girl to defend their city.
Most of them liked Sasha more, though, Sasha included.
When she was particularly angry, she cursed Narcissa. There was no way she could've been so great - and she'd learnt it was somewhat true, according to Finn and Wildfire. Crux had hated the Scarlet Serpent before she'd become the Scarlet Serpent. They grumbled about how they should've given her some more useful powers, until someone else snapped back that they couldn't help it - Crux had only amplified the heroes' abilities, not created them in the first place.
They argued a lot.
"Sasha? Is he with you?" Petra asked quietly, inclining her head towards Wildfire. He smiled awkwardly, not understanding a word of the Usnayan she was speaking.
"Yes." Sasha felt a smile tug at her lips. "Yes, he is."
Petra raised an eyebrow, and for a moment looked like the sister Sasha had known. But then her expression dropped, the hunger and exhaustion covering her fragile face once again.
"Where were you coming from?" Sasha asked, running her finger along her sister's bruised hand, a chill running down her spine as Petra winced in pain.
"Work," she answered quickly. Hair tucked her her ears fluttering back onto her face, winding around and lying flat on her cheekbones, flattened by the wind.
It was clear that she didn't want to elaborate, and seeing the bruises, Sasha wasn't sure she wanted Petra to, either.
"I missed you, Sasha."
"I love you," she choked out in response, throwing her arms around her sister's slender neck. A necklace clinked as she did so, and Sasha lifted it, holding it gently in her fingertips. It was a locket, and as she opened it, she bit back another sob.
Her grandmother smiled at her in the photo, a younger version of Sasha, with then-wavy hair and a missing baby tooth, next to her. Petra stood behind them, hair flying free and a chain of flowers resting around her neck and snaking down onto the floaty material of her top. They looked...happy.
She didn't know any more, she really didn't.
"Ask him if he wants to come to my house," Petra said abruptly.
Sasha fumbled for the right thing to say.
"Petra - that was what we were doing. We were looking for you. Do you know Crux?"
Her sister looked at her blankly.
"The people that took me. They are not good, not right now. We need your help."
"What do you want, Sasha. I'll give you everything I have-"
"I don't need anything from you. All I need is a place to stay, for a day. One or two days, at most. Until we unite with our...friends."
A slow smile creeped over Petra's face. "I understand. It is like the American movies we used to watch remember? With spies and agents and heroes?"
Sasha laughed. "I do."
"Then, let us go." Petra croaked a few words of broken English, too. "You, come my house. Yes?"
Wildfire gave her a nod, hands in his pockets.
And so she led them to the address that Sasha had memorised, tattooed in her mind for months.
[ end ]