[ 09 ]
CHEAP COFFEE was not pleasant, as much as Sasha tried to tell herself that it was alright. It left a trail down her throat that made her want to retch, and the lack of sugar or milk made it even worse. She knew that Petra was trying her best, doing what she could, and had welcomed her and Wildfire into her tiny rented room with the air of a grand host.
As she looked around, an overwhelming wave of guilt hit Sasha like a car, knocking the air out of her lungs and making her eyes sting with tears. How could she have left her sister, strong, humble Petra who never once complained, who carried both of their loads on her back till it broke.
How could Petra have left everything behind for a sister who never tried to find her?
You did.
You tried to find her.
She could've tried to find her faster, tried a little bit more. Instead, she'd chosen to pine after a life too good to be true, an imposter in a sea of Semper's saviours. Still, after so many years, Sasha couldn't get the image of that first press conference out of her head, cameras flashing everywhere and people screaming from every direction.
Some of them were nice, asking her about herself, whether she'd heard of Semper City before. The views from the Hartsicke River were beautiful, they'd said, if you were lucky enough to secure a cruise for the afternoon. In the morning, she'd learnt, it was too cold and dark, and no-one had even considered the night. The night was when all the bad things came out play, with their grilled masks and smoke bombs, white powders and cocked guns.
No, the nighttime was not a friendly place, especially not for girls like her, who looked as if they might shatter if you pushed them too far. Now, Sasha liked to think that her condition had improved, that she'd accumulated some sort of muscle, but as she poked her arms she couldn't help feeling smaller than ever before.
It had nothing to do with the size of her biceps - no, but rather, the feeling of being watched. With that, there was the click of a lock and the door opening, revealing two figures in the doorway that slipped into the room. A bang announced that the door was closed, followed by the angry shout of someone being woken up from their sleep.
As Sasha and Wildfire both got up, her clearing her throat and him rubbing his palms together, one of the figures spoke.
"Hey. Hold your fire."
Her voice was guttural and rough, like she hadn't used it in a while, and didn't match her appearance at all. With a pink button-up and a lacy collar, the girl looked more like someone who'd speak in a sickly sweet way, maybe even giggle.
This, obviously, was not the case.
These people were not here for a friendly chat, for a cup of tea and some freshly baked cookies. They looked more like warlords, the pink-dressed one wearing a belt lined with guns, and the other girl, who looked to be around Sasha's age, armed with two huge grinning daggers that she slid into a holster around her waist. Both of the daggers were exquisite, one of them appearing to be black onyx and the other covered in golden veins.
This was no street kid's weaponry - it looked more like something a mercenary would carry, probably made in a lab somewhere in West Semper. Grand, expensive, deadly. It was something a professional killer would have.
"You have three seconds," Wildfire said, tapping his foot.
His voice drew Sasha's eyes away from the weapons and over to him, hair messy and eyes sharp.
"Fine. Finn Johnson and Nar-"
"Time's up."
"No, wait," Sasha interrupted. "Let her finish." Folding her arms over her chest, she suppressed the chill that went down her spine at the mention of her best friend's name.
"Finn and Narcissa are on our side. We're coming to transport you so that you can meet. That's what you were planning on doing, weren't you?" the other girl said, who hadn't yet spoken. Her eyes caught the light, and Sasha realised that they were a faded purple.
"What's the word?"
The girl stifled a laugh as she said it. "Sash drinks goat milk. That's you," she stated, looking point-blankly at her.
Sasha didn't bother arguing, but nodded wearily. "He did send them."
"No."
An unfamiliar voice sunk into the air from the direction of the window, and a black-haired girl wearing a leather jacket appeared, leaning against the chair on the other side of the room.
"I did."
It had been four years since she'd last been seen by any Crux member for a long enough time to be photographed, but Sasha still recognised Narcissa Corvus unmistakably. Her hair was far shorter, now barely skimming her shoulders, and there was a sort of sunkeness to her body, but her face was the same. Almond-shaped black-brown eyes were framed by high cheekbones, below that, full red lips and a softly pointed chin.
She was undeniably beautiful, Crux's science obviously having done wonders to her appearance. They'd done it to all of them, meddled with their genetics to create four people that were pleasing to the eyes of the public, albeit one far later than the others. Not much work had been done on Sasha - just made her lips plumper, nose smaller and gotten rid of the scar on her jaw where she'd cut herself on a broken window.
She couldn't imagine that they'd done much work on any of them, not in that way. Crux were obsessive about appearance, but even they drew the line. Nonetheless, the heroes of Project ORDER were as physically perfect as science would allow. They were vain, sure, but wasn't everyone, deep down?
Idealistic though she was, Sasha knew that looks mattered, and pretending that they didn't was just lying to herself and everyone around her.
"Ciss! Long time, no see," Wildfire threw an arm around her, and out of the corner of her eye, Sasha saw Narcissa slide hesitantly into the embrace, her face pale. She looked like she needed it.
"No hard feelings, huh?" Sasha watched her lips move, and Wildfire shook his head.
"We're here, aren't we?"
Narcissa gave Sash a stiff nod, her lips pressed into a firm line. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but didn't, instead going over to stand next to the other two invaders.
"Coming with us, then?" the purple-eyed one said, but as Sasha stood up, she became aware of a cold hand around her arm, melting into an exhausted face with brows knitted in confusion.
"You're going with them, Sasha?" Petra's voice broke. "Please, don't let them leave me behind. It's been so long-"
"Don't worry," she forced herself to muster a smile. If she left her sister here, it was obvious that Petra wouldn't survive long.
This meeting must've alerted Crux with the first knock.
"I'll go with you. On one condition." Sasha took her sister's hand, making Petra stand up. "She comes, too."
"Why?" the purple-eyed girl asked, her expression blank, as if she really didn't understand.
"It has been too long," Petra answered in heavily accented English, her tone unsteady. Sasha couldn't help thinking that it was nothing like how she played piano, fingers fast and fluid as they swept across the keys flawlessly.
She remembered the last time she'd heard Petra play, on the old grand piano that had once belonged to their father. He, their grandmother had told the two girls, loved to play piano when he was a teenager, and was even considered for music school. But the family business went bust, leaving all of them jobless and broke. After that, he didn't touch the instrument, for fear of remembering the old days.
When she was little, Sasha had been mad at her father for abandoning the art that her older sister held so dearly to her heart, but as she grew older, she realised that it wasn't easy to face something that brought back memories. Nostalgia was never a good thing, not for someone that had lost so much.
She didn't blame him anymore, but never got to tell him, because at age ten, her father's car collided with a drunk driver on a country road, killing him, his father and Sasha and Petra's mother, all in one fell swoop.
Their grandmother was never the same way, not quite right, in the aftermath. Someone said that her gears had shifted, and nothing would put her back to how she used to be. Sasha couldn't help thinking that they were right - that her grandmother was broken.
It was a pity that she hadn't asked Petra about her, whether she was even still alive. She didn't know about how wills worked, but Sasha assumed that even if she was named, Crux wouldn't have let her claim anything. Instead, they probably would've told Petra to keep it all, or even simply left the messages unanswered and swept it all under the rug as if it didn't matter at all.
And perhaps it didn't, not to them. But all Sasha wanted was a sign that her grandmother had remembered her, even despite her betrayal. That she still loved her, no matter what, even if it wasn't true.
Sash wanted pretty lies, as difficult as it was to admit. Now, she wanted them more than ever - for Narcissa to tell her that Petra would be fine, that she would be safe. When this was all over, maybe they could buy her a nicer place to stay, somewhere that wasn't just one room, in whatever area she wanted. With a piano, too, and Petra could play all day long, if she wanted to.
"The Siren will not be on your side without her, no matter what anyone says." The words tumbled out of her mouth, but Sasha was confident as she said them.
Narcissa considered what she was saying for a moment, and exhaled, looking almost weary. "Sasha, you understand the severity of the situation?"
"Of course. But I will refuse to cooperate if my needs are not recognised."
Wildfire let out a low whistle, evidently impressed at her sudden bite. She wasn't usually like this, but seeing Petra had changed something in her mind.
Squaring her shoulders, Sasha stepped closer to Narcissa, keeping her voice calm.
"Do you understand me?"
"Yeah, I do. Look, Finn told me you're a valuable asset. So take your sister, or your booty call, whatever she is."
As much as she wanted to argue, Sasha didn't need to be told twice. She had a chance, and she wouldn't waste it on petty spite.
"Petra, go with them," she said in Usnayan, slightly shaky. Her hands trembled as she took her sister's arm, not out of fear but out of concern for Petra. She looked as if a loud noise might kill her, not even comparable to three armed criminals, two of which who looked as if they'd never smiled once in their life.
The third one, the one with the purple eyes, had now leapt onto the table, chewing the inside of her cheek as she crouched on the wood. Sasha braved herself for the crash that was bound to come - but none did. Either the girl was surprisingly light, or that table was far more durable than it appeared to be.
Whatever.
She had other things to worry about than a table.
"I'll take her," the one dressed in pink said, her monotone voice like gravel. The sound made Sasha's blood turn cold, but she let go of Petra somewhat reluctantly.
As she led her sister out of the room, Sash heard the girl speak in haunting Usnayan, though her appearance indicated that there was no way she could be from their country.
Maybe she'd learnt it from the Usnayan bosses that had set up camp in the east side of the city, distributing foreign weapons and the toxic drug known only to that recluse sector of Eastern Europe - parts and of Serbia, Macedonia and Bulgaria, along with nearly all of the tiny nation of Usnaya.
They called it Drought, and it had taken the underground market by storm, killing off short of a hundred people the first day it reached Semper. Its effects were disastrous, Sasha had learnt from a conference with Narcos, where they'd wanted Project ORDER to help them crack down on it. She didn't know how they wanted her to help, but the operation ended up being cancelled, anyway.
Project ORDER was slowly going bust, but they all tried to pretend everything was perfectly fine. GOLDEN AGE was its natural successor, a test to see how far science could really go. They'd learnt their lesson to not give their superheroes too much power, like the very first project that was meant to save the hellpit that was Semper City. They'd learnt their lesson to not give their superheroes too much and too little knowledge simultaneously, like Project ORDER, where they got too aware.
Project GOLDEN AGE was everything that was right - it was seamless.
That was its biggest flaw.
Sasha stood up, meeting Wildfire's eyes. He cast her a comforting look, squeezing her hand.
GOLDEN AGE could still be saved, she was sure of it.
[ end ]