Futuristic Grounded ( Syntra & sullen )

[Syntra]

The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and Cassia Sempronia was not having a good day. Like, not at all. Her days did tend to be rife with crises of varying intensity, ranging from casual dress emergencies to panicking over essay deadlines, but this... oh, this was something else. Something else entirely. A monstrous anomaly, threatening to rip her life apart. It didn't happen to her often that city guards barged into her villa for no reason, you see? Her villa, that also belonged to her family and her father. (Someone was so going to pay for that, she knew. You didn't go around antagonizing the Sempronius bloodline without consequences! That just didn't happen.)

"Let go of me, will you?!" she demanded, with all of her usual charm. "This has got to be a terrible misunderstanding. I don't know who you are looking for, but it cannot be me!"

One of the guards, a giant half-made of some blue, shiny metal, seemed doubtful. "Are you not Cassia Sempronia?"

"Uhhh... yes?"

"Then we do have the right person. Come on, girl. It will be easier if you don't struggle." ...which, what? What, what, what? Something about this situation didn't compute, and by something, Cassia meant everything.

"But why? What did I even do? I have the right to know what I'm being accused of!" Hey, she may have slept through most of her law classes, but that didn't mean that she was absolutely ignorant regarding the inner workings of their judicial system. Elysium wasn't a lawless wasteland-- unlike Orsus below, they actually valued their order. That, of course, translated into valuing rules, and they definitely were violating some rules here! ...or so Cassia hoped, anyway. "Listen, I know the substance was technically forbidden, but I'm not sure if it warrants that sort of treatment. Can't we speak about it like the civilized people we are?" For the added effect, she batted her eyelashes-- since, you know, that always worked!

Except that the metallic woman remained entirely unimpressed. "You stand accused of treason, Cassia Sempronia. Now go, and don't make your situation even worse." ...say what, again? Treason? Like, treason treason? Oh damn, that would not go over well.

***

Spoiler alert: it didn't.

These things rarely did, mostly because not many people enjoyed treason-- in cases like that, phrases such as 'exemplary punishment' tended to be exceedingly common. You know, to sort of prove that you shouldn't fuck with the state? That was the principle, or so Cassia thought. (At the beginning, she still nursed a hollow hope. Her father would come for her; the misunderstanding would be cleared; they'd pay her a fortune in damages. The family chauffeur would drive her home, then, and everyone would laugh about it ten years later. Just a silly clerical mistake, right? But the letter she'd received from her father wasn't a mistake, sadly. It couldn't be.)

"Cassia", she read, holding the letter in her trembling hands, "I am ashamed. For the longest time, I tolerated your excesses, and this is how you repay me? By spitting on our nation's legacy? From this day till your final day, you are no longer my daughter. I do not know you. You are a stranger, and a stranger you shall remain."

Well, that... had certainly happened. Where had they gotten the big idea from, anyway? How were they all so sure? She had thought they'd need some actual evidence to reach such a conclusion, but no, apparently! Ugh, that genuinely made her more angry than it made her sad. (In the privacy of her dark cell, however, Cassia did cry. She wouldn't do that outside, not in front of all those assholes, but with nobody to witness her shame? She curled around herself, and mourned the loss of everything she had ever know. How had it collapsed so perfectly, like a house of cards? Had it always been so fragile? Had she been?)

That night, strange dreams visited her-- dreams of blood and death and suffering, and quiet whispers in her ears. Was life just giving her a fancy preview? Most likely.

***

When they dressed her in tatters, Cassia knew it was over. The message was obvious, wasn't it? You didn't put on a wedding robe for a funeral, and you also didn't force a free woman into a potato sack. Common sense, really. And so she walked, step by step, and tried not to study all the faces gawking at her-- too many people were standing by the road, after all, and the risk of her recognizing some of them was too high. (Who had come to enjoy her humiliation, huh? Her classmates? Her teachers? Her first love? The possibilities were endless.)

I won't cry here, Cassia promised to herself, I won't, I won't, I won't, but then, then she noticed where they were leading her exactly. The... The Verge? "No," she looked at one of the men, her eyes wide. "No, you can't do that!" Someone behind her grabbed her by the wings, though, and when they cut them off, Cassia saw stars.

"There, you won't need those anymore. Go where you belong, you stupid bitch!" And, with that? With that, she was pushed over the edge.

 

[sullen]

"Get back here, you bloody thief!"

The cries of angry Watchmen echoed between the tall, rusted buildings that bordered the city's main street. Elizabeth Kreuger flew down the lane, cutting nimbly through crowds of people and stalls while her pursuers gave chase a few paces back. The stolen briefcase in her hand hardly slowed her down.

"Please, call me Lizzie!" she'd hollered back, daring to look behind her and shoot them a winning smile. The near-manifested steam coming from their little heads was worth it. As she continued running, she drew up a mental map of the path she needed to take, along with the relative locations of each of the city wardens. There were the two behind her, but she had known from a first glance that they'd hardly be able to keep up. The real obstacle was the other two who had split off from the group back in the alley. Now those Watchmen had a brain between their ears.

Her intuition was proven correct as she rounded the corner only to dodge the electric baton that came swinging at her head. It grazed the skin on her right jawbone and she rubbed the burn, gingerly.

"You know, that thing's pretty dangerous. Maybe you should–" Lizzie threw her body on the side to avoid getting clobbered again, letting out a silent oof at the impact and rolling herself to her feet. "Not in the mood to chat, are we? That's no problem at all. I've run out of time to play, anyway."

She felt the hair on her back raise and she threw out her free arm to protect her face. The bullet pierced through the metal appendage although it managed to get stuck, sparing her any vital injuries. Damn! I just got this thing replaced. This was bad. She half expected the Watchmen to go at her with lethal weapons, but a sniper? They could have killed her!

That's probably what they were going for, she surmised.

As if on cue, the roaring of an engine filled the air and shook the ground below. Faris had arrived right on time with her getaway ride, and she was so full of relief that she could have kissed him (she wouldn't, though). The orange pickup barreled down the road and Lizzie dashed out of her pursuer's reach and leapt onto the still-moving vehicle. Shoving the briefcase in through the window first, she hoisted her body onto the leather seat as the truck jostled her left and right.

"Ow- shit! Could you drive any worse?" The driver, Faris, spared her no glance. Behind them, the faces and shouts of the Watchmen grew smaller and smaller as they sped out of the city. Despite the close call, she'd consider the heist a grand success. Lizzie was never planning on becoming a career thief, but the occasional crashing of a shady business deal in return for some hard cash never hurt. If anything, she was doing God's work.

Of course, though, there existed no gods on the surface of Orsus. The mangled landscape of the dying planet left little hope for humanity to expand any further beyond their cramped settlements. Coupled with the threat of hazardous weather and monstrous creatures with a taste for human blood, much of their little home was unwelcoming. Out of the four major continents of Orsus, the safest and most inhabitable was the central land mass, Drossel. Lizzie wasn't even sure if there were any people living outside of the continent, but even if there were, they wouldn't last long. Nobody did, out there.

After driving for some time, they figured it was safe enough to take a pit stop. The old pickup ('Nessie', as Faris called her) wheezed with effort as he shut off the engine with a click. Lizzie hopped off the truck and stretched her arms above her head, giving up when the mechanical one wouldn't raise past her shoulders. She'd have to check the damages later. Faris came around the other side and approached her, motioning to the briefcase by her feet.

"What, don't you trust me?" she said with feigned incredulity. She picked up the case anyways and unlocked it for him, revealing the fresh, neatly stacked banknotes that were about to exchange hands between a government agent and dealer. Two criminals, basically.

Faris picked up one of the stacks, examining it. Lizzie continued to grin with an increasingly smug demeanor—the earlier skittishness from almost being shot in the head had faded, and she was relishing in the pride of a successful job. The taciturn man seemed to be satisfied, cracked lips curling into a smile as a harsh laugh forced its way out of his lungs.

"Fine, you win. Seventy-thirty. You keep thirty, and I'll find a doctor for you."

Lizzie was about to open her mouth and argue that they'd agreed on sixty-forty from the beginning, but she wasn't about to push her luck. She hated to admit it, but she was in desperate need of Faris' extensive network and tracking skills. Somewhere on this continent was somebody who could save her sister, and she would endure any kind of hell to find them.

"You'd better find them soon, you hear?"

As she stood by watching him split the money, she thought she saw something out of the corner of her vision. While she didn't want to take her eyes off the greedy man, something in her heart told her to look up anyways. She wouldn't have believed it if she wasn't witnessing it herself. What the hell is that?

Up in the sky was a figure hurtling down at top speed toward the ground where they were. Was it a satellite? A meteor? No- it's a person!

The realization shocked her to her core. However, the only reason she'd been able to survive this long was due to her quick thinking. In an instant, she was slamming open the door of the pickup truck and turning on the engine. Nessie came to life once more, shaking a bit irregularly but nonetheless in working condition. Faris noticed her at this point and demanded to know what the hell she was doing. She didn't grace him with an answer, focusing on deploying the emergency safety net instead.

When he realized what she was doing, he screeched, "Are you insane? There's no meteor storm happening today! I only have one more use of the net, you fucking asshole!"

Sorry, Faris, she thought, not sorry at all. The air began to vibrate as the emergency net materialized around the truck. It was always a wonder to witness—a solid, but flexible material seemed to appear out of thin air and surround the two of them. It glowed with a faint yellow hue and had lines running throughout its surface in a hexagonal pattern. This was no time to admire the technology of the Old World, however, and she started to drive the truck towards the trajectory of the falling body.

It was a god damned miracle. An actual, bloody miracle that the body managed to catch onto the net, have most of its momentum absorbed, and then get flung a couple meters away onto the dirt. Lizzie wasn't about to relish in such luck, as she felt she would surely meet equal misfortune in the future. For the time being, though, she'd have to check if they were okay. Maybe she'd been able to prevent an instant death by crashing into solid ground, but they still fell from the equivalent of a one-story rooftop with quite a bit of speed. They weren't going to get away with this with just a scrape.

"Hellooo? You alive?" Lizzie crouched beside the heap which she'd hoped was a living and breathing person. The girl (she assumed) was lying on her back, dressed in a rucksack and looking a bit rough around the edges. She tried for a pulse, relieved to find one, and then checked her head. It didn't look like her neck had snapped upon impact though she might have a slight concussion. She was alive, though, and that was what mattered.

+ + +​

"Look, I did what I had to–"

"That net costs a fortune, Krueger! More than the price of your lives combined– and I expect you to pay me back."

"Yes, alright! I'll get the bloody money for you. You can even take my cut from today, just– please keep your end of the deal. You have to find me that doctor."

Their argument went back and forth for a while. Faris was understandably pissed at her. Despite this, he had helped her carry the unconscious body onto the truck on account of her destroyed arm. He then drove them to Lizzie's hideout without complaint, but began to rip a new one into her as soon as they were there. As much as she hated to acknowledge it, he was a somewhat decent person.

On the only bed in the hideout was where the unconscious girl remained. The single-room unit was an abandoned shed that was repurposed into a living space, and Lizzie could even reluctantly call it her home. There were nicer places to live on Orsus, but she wasn't fond of the lifestyle in the city—it sure as hell wasn't fond of her.

Finally, she was able to convince Faris not to break his promise. He would continue to look for a doctor, as long as she'd pay him back for the emergency net. It was no small amount, however. $150,000 for a fancy light show? Where am I supposed to get that much cash? She dropped herself on a stool and buried her face in her hands. It was hard enough with her sister still bedridden with some incurable disease—but now? A hundred thousand in debt all because she had decided to save a complete stranger. Even the reason she had done it escaped her. Was it altruism? A guilty conscience? Lizzie was never the type to stay on the straight and narrow, but with the cruelty of everyday life, it seemed almost a respite to prevent even one pointless death.

"I hope this was worth it," she muttered, dragging her flesh hand over her eyes.

 

[Syntra]

The world around her was spinning. Round and round it went, at a breakneck speed, and while Cassia normally appreciated a good carousel, this was so not what she was after. Not now, anyway. Had she wanted a ride, she would have bought the damn ticket, okay? That shouldn't have been a difficult concept to grasp! The ground was approaching faster than it had any right to, too, and--

"Listen, child. Can you hear my words?" (The voice was muffled, as if it was coming from a great distance. Ancient, too. Cassia didn't know how she knew that, but she just did! ...in the background, grass was growing, loud enough to make her ears ring. The singing of various birds - the usual soundtrack of everyday life - was a thunder that reverberated throughout her entire being as well. Who the fuck had fucked up the sound settings so bad? Like, physiologically, that this wasn't supposed to be happening! That sort of thing wasn't normal. It wasn't... wasn't... ah, shit, as if clinging to her sense of normalcy wasn't pure desperation, disguised as common sense. A remnant of a bygone era.)

"About time one of you actually paid some attention." Cassia couldn't be too sure, but if she had to guess, she'd say that the entity sounded vaguely satisfied. Proud of itself, even? And when barbed wire surged from the ground, sinking itself into her exposed arms with a wet, disgusting splash, that smugness only increased tenfold. "Now let's see if you can stay for long enough to actually understand. What do you say to that, hmm?"

(Cassia didn't say anything. Recently, she had learned there was no point to that, so no, she wasn't going to grant the freakshow the gratification it so desired. She still had her pride, you see? Instead, the girl bit her lower lip, and watched the droplets of blood fall. Before they even touched the earth, however, they... turned into snowflakes? Okay, why not! Making sense was so last century, anyway-- surrealism seemed to be all the rage now, and Cassia was nothing if not a trendsetter. This was fine. With bated breath, she observed the snowflakes melt at her feet once again, coloring the ground red, red, red, a shade of red so deep it resembled rubies, and then--)

***

With a start, Cassia opened her eyes. Instinctively, the girl sat up, and about five seconds later, she regretted it. Her stomach had had enough of sudden movements, you know? And it protested against the violation so categorically that she only managed to lean over the edge of her bed before vomiting unceremoniously, covering the floor in... in... fuck, Cassia didn't even want to think about it. (Unbeknownst to her, the angle gave any observers a fine view of her back. The wings were all but gone, though that didn't mean the proof of their presence had somehow vanished as well-- the wound was as grisly as one might expect, with electric wire sticking out of it. Ouch.)

"For fuck's sake," she groaned before wiping her mouth, wanting to get rid of any and all evidence of the incident. Only then did Cassia realize that she was neither a) stuck in a barren wasteland, b) alone, and self-consciously, she dragged the blanket closer to her form. What had happened, even? Where was she? At one point, she had been at that dreadful prison, and then... Oh. Oh, joy. Figured, really. Considering that she appeared to have the worst luck in the entire Elysium, this sure as hell checked out. So, like, were these savages going to eat her alive now, or dismember her and save the flesh for later? The latter seemed wiser, but she wasn't sure whether they possessed the capacity for long-term planning like that. Quick, say something! Anything!

"Eh?" Cassia tilted her head aside. (In her defense, coming up with something to say would have been way easier had it not been for the throbbing headache.) "Eh?" she repeated, as if that could possibly rectify the misunderstanding. "Who... who are you?" the girl decided to try harder. "Where am I? A-and also, if you are planning to eat me, I'll have you know that I was vaccinated. The meat can't be too healthy."

 

[sullen]

Lizzie should have known it was Elysium. Deep down, she probably had an inkling of why a girl like her would be falling out of the sky. There was no place other than the floating city that she could have come from (she ruled out the possibility of an airship accident, since the last one she'd ever heard about was torn and salvaged for parts). It was a fact that stayed at the back of her mind until she saw the wings—or lack thereof. The bloody stumps had been previously obscured by the potato sack that she seemed to be rocking (Don't they have any better clothes up there?) but when the girl woke up and subsequently vomited all over her floor, it had folded over her head and exposed her back. It looked, to put it plainly, rather grotesque. The blood had dried but the wound looked fresh and probably stung like hell. It was this pitiful state that prevented Lizzie from kicking out the elite slob, for the time being.

"The name's Krueger. Elizabeth Krueger." She stood up and offered her a bottle of water. "Contrary to popular belief, I've no interest in eating you. You look like you'd taste terrible, anyways."

Probably made of the same sludge they dump all over Orsus. Wrinkling her nose, she returned to the table where she'd been working on her arm. Metal screws and parts were littered about, unorganized in the way Lizzie liked. She picked up a wrench-looking tool and stabbed it into the metal limb with a little more force than necessary, twisting it around until something tightened.

Her attention was on her arm but she addressed the girl behind her, "I'm sure I don't have to explain where you are. Your imagination seems active enough to paint a pretty accurate picture of the situation you're in right now."

Was she being overly cold? Maybe, but it wasn't like she had the time to care about some Elysium reject's sob story. Whatever she was doing down here on the surface was none of her business. Best case scenario, she could sell her off in the underground market for a good sum. Take responsibility for the debt she now owed Faris. Poor girl would probably just break in the first few days though, so that wasn't the most sustainable option. Perhaps a life of manual labour suited her better—paid less, but at least it was better for the long term.

As she pondered this, her head turned to observe the wounded girl once more. The look of terror on her face was so pronounced it was comical, and rightly so. Falling into the hands of Elizabeth "Lizzie" Krueger would possibly be the worst luck of her (now significantly shortened) life.

"Oh- but don't worry. I'm sure this was all a big misunderstanding!" she cooed, putting on her most sympathetic smile. "You're definitely not supposed to be down here, right? Someone must have messed up big time and got you tangled up in it."

Walking slowly to the girl, she crouched down beside the couch so their eyes were level. She placed an earnest hand over her chest, contrary to the words she would speak. "Why don't I help you out? I may not be as smart or talented as you Elysians, but I'm sure I could at least get you to the proper authorities. You may not trust me—which I totally understand. We only just met, but I saved your life. All I want is for you to return home.

I promise you I will get you out of here. So what do you say we work together?"

 

[Syntra]

Elizabeth Krueger. A harsh, inelegant name-- one descended from the barbaric languages of old, as one of Cassia's professors would have doubtlessly remarked. Cassia herself, however? Well, let's just say that she was not in the fucking mood for linguistic analysis. Just, nope. Not that she normally tended to be, but this clusterfuck of a situation dug the grave of her academic curiosity even deeper! Sounds like something a cannibal would totally say, she thought, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Like... wasn't that just common sense? Cassia knew woefully little about these people's crude ways, but she assumed that it wasn't customary for them to present their victims with the next week's lunch menu and be like "yeah, you're going to end up in this goulash, mate." No, that just didn't align with the principle of least resistance! It would be far more efficient, she thought, to feed your prisoner some bullshit fairy tale-- you know, a story about a fair maiden, her valiant rescuer, and a future that involved more than just pleasing some creep's taste buds. I'm much smarter than that, though, Cassia thought. If she thinks I'll fall for that sort of drivel, then she's terribly mistaken!)

"D-does it?" she stammered, mostly stalling for time. "I mean, my imagination can be pretty bad. Once, a professor wanted me to imagine a world without wars and write an essay about that, and, um, in my head, it that just didn't work. It seemed unrealistic. The wars kept happening no matter what scenario I pictured, and they were getting more and more brutal, too! So, uh, in the end, I wrote about mega advanced guillotines. They could decapitate five people per second, if I remember correctly." ...so, that thing about her head hurting? Yeah, that was still true, and it turned out that even spinning false narratives was sort of impossible with that handicap. Ugh! (Ultimately, it didn't fucking matter, though. Cassia wasn't trying to win some pretentious literary award here, was she? No, this was a good old distraction! As long as this... this Elizabeth wasn't cutting her to pieces, things would be okay. Okay, or at least okay-adjacent. The whole exile mess... no, she wasn't going to think about that till there were at least one hundred miles between her and her would-be killer.)

Elizabeth talked some more, and every word of hers only cemented her suspicions further. A misunderstanding? Helping her, for free? Not as smart as Elysians? Cassia may not have known much about Orsus, but come the fuck on! This was a whole damn bingo of empty buzzwords, designed to be as likeable as possible. To trap your victim in their own expectations, in other words. (Yeah, that wasn't going to work on her. The life hack that she used to resist that sort of mind control? Why, it mostly revolved around all of her expectations being spat upon, trampled, and shattered.)

"That is... awfully generous of you," the girl said. Carefully, her eyes darted across the room-- the door was on the opposite side, but whether it led outside or deeper into the complex, that much she couldn't tell. Hmm! A map sure would have come in handy. A map, and a weapon, and about a million other things Cassia didn't dare to ask for. Fuck this shit, really. "I wouldn't expect such kindness from one of you guys. All my life, I was taught that you are just mindless beasts." And, to be honest, Cassia did think that was sort of unfair. Them being mindless just struck her as unlikely, you see? Although she had no particular qualms about the 'beasts' part.

"I hope you'll forgive me for that? Misconceptions can be sooo hurtful!" If Elizabeth was playing the knight in shining armor part, after all, why couldn't she play the redeemed sinner? It seemed fair to Cassia, from where she was standing. (What was it about 'suckers' and 'premature trust'? Oh yeah, they only had themselves to blame.)

On wobbly feet, the girl stood up, and winced immediately. They just... weren't ready to carry her entire weight, alright? The fall must have damaged much more than any of them had realized. Still, she could walk, which was more than enough. It had to be! Now that the exile itself hadn't killed her, Cassia Sempronia refused to be offed in such an anti-climactic way.

"I'm sorry about so many things," she continued, batting her eyelashes innocently. Quick, think! What can you use to...? Ah. Ah, there it was-- a pipe conveniently lying on the floor, most likely a part of some long-dead machine. "Really, I could write a book about it. By this point, it... it would be pretty long, I'd wager." There was a brief moment of hesitation, but just like with her hopes and dreams, Cassia buried it. So what if she had never killed anyone before? Idiots murdered all the time, so it couldn't be that hard. (...hahaha. Fuck, she was so dead.)

"Do you know what I regret the most, though? This. I'm sorry." And, with that, she swung wildly at her """savior""".

 

[sullen]

Lizzie leaned back on her heels, still crouched, observing the Elysian's paranoid expression. The theatrics of her speech seemed to convey that she didn't believe in her good will. It almost hurt her feelings.

The dislike for her people became increasingly evident as she rambled on. Mindless beasts? Lizzie could only roll her eyes on the surface, but it made her blood boil knowing how much suffering these so-called beasts have to endure on a daily basis. She stood up as the other girl did, staying silent while she kept playing the role of the grateful rescuee. There was something in the way her eyes kept darting to the floor that tipped Lizzie off to her real objective.

Is she really?

She is.

Lizzie almost didn't dodge fast enough, too stunned with the realization that she was actually attacking her to react. In all honesty, it was kind of impressive. What sort of mental gymnastics did one have to do to arrive at the wonderful conclusion that bopping the head of your kidnapper while they were facing you and while you were still gravely injured was a good idea? Adrenaline, she supposed, was one hell of a drug. Unfortunately not enough to take down an experienced hand-to-hand fighter, even if she only had one hand.

When the pipe came towards her head, she had a flash of déjà vu to a few hours before. Though a baton and pipe were quite different they had some commonalities, such as the ability to swing them at people's heads. Everyone she'd encountered who fought with batons and pipes never knew how to use them properly, though, and it was easy to step out of the pipe's path. She continued to back away as the girl kept swinging the makeshift weapon in all directions.

"You know, that thing's pretty dangerous."

Well this feels familiar.

"Maybe you should put that down before someone gets hurt."

She was rather pleased that she could finish her line from earlier, but it didn't seem to have much of an effect. The few pieces of furniture in her hideout were knocked over in the pursuit (really, she was just backing away) and it seemed like the girl's injuries were going to open up again.

"Uh, hey, I really don't think you should be moving around so much." She turned on her heel to avoid being sandwiched between the bat lady and the wall.

"Okay, fine. I admit I was lying earlier. And—yikes—are you getting better at this?"

Lizzie figured she would just run out of energy and give up, but man was she serious about killing her. She was starting to sweat a little. Is she fueled by pure spite or something?

Figuring enough was enough, she took hold of the pipe as it was being swung and pulled. The other girl's weight followed and Lizzie stooped down to use the momentum to lift her up over her shoulder, fireman-style.

"Alright, no more complaining. You're coming with me whether you like it or not."

She tossed the damned pipe back onto the floor and dropped the girl unceremoniously onto the couch.

"After I look at your wounds, which have undoubtedly started bleeding again. You're useless to the both of us if you get an infection and die, so consider this a temporary truce."

Prying a floorboard open, Lizzie lifted the wood to reveal an assortment of supplies hidden in the ground. She picked up what looked like a first aid kit and a bottle of clear wine. "Not for drinking," she added for flavour text, "it would shrivel up all your tastebuds before you even swallowed."

She pulled the stool back up and sat next to the couch. With a towel in one hand, she opened her other palm up to the girl, making an attempt to be polite after the rough handling.

"Let me see your back. Please."

 

[Syntra]

“Is it?” Cassia tilted her head aside, suddenly the very embodiment of innocence. “My sincerest apologies for that, Miss Elizabeth. I’m sure you can forgive me, though? You know, since I’m an idiot who doesn’t understand how the world works!” Which kind of happened to be true, by the way, but that didn’t mean that some Orsus bitch could just go and assume that. Like??? Before deciding that she was an irredeemable moron, Elizabeth should have at least asked her out for a dinner and inquired who her top three favorite philosophers were! Those were basic fucking manners, and Cassia was owed those. (Honestly, that her newest nemesis had unironically thought that she’d fall for a low-effort like lie that was the most insulting aspect of this so far. What would come next, hm? Would they lock her up in a cage and parade her around like some exotic fucking animal? Would they make her wear a collar? ...come to think of it, being sold for organs might not have been the worst fate ever. Just, y'know.)

"How awfully caring of you," Cassia shouted, swinging the pipe some more. (Yeah, it did hurt. In addition to that, some rational part of her was also very aware of the growing wetness where her wings had used to be-- her wound re-opening, she’d wager. Now, the convenient thing about this? That rational part was currently being tied up and silenced by its less rational counterparts, mainly the ones associated with blind anger.) "What, don't want me to get too damaged? The flesh wouldn't taste so sweet then, eh?" Somewhere, she had once read that a cow shouldn't feel too much stress before its slaughter for that exact reason, and no, the parallel did not please her. Like, it made her about as happy as the idea of having all of her teeth pulled out, one by one. "Too fucking bad, though. I’m not going to make this easy for you!" …yes, that was pretty much all Cassia could do here. An experienced fighter might have torn Elizabeth’s heart out and forced her to eat it, but given that the closest she’d ever gotten to violence before was writing a few scathing reviews? Nope, not realistic. Even so, that didn’t mean that she just had to take it-- she didn’t fucking exist to serve as other people’s punching bag, and the world would do well to recognize it! (…what a lovely, lovely personal development. Cassia’s therapist would have been super proud, had it not been for the fact that she’d been exiled and officially branded as a traitor. Oh well! You just couldn’t have everything, it seemed.)

“Ah ha! I knew you were full of shit,” she pointed an accusatory finger. “Seriously, what were you thinking? Do I look that stupid?” Cassia liked to think not, but it was entirely possible she had had a big ‘dunce’ inscription on her head all along-- that would have certainly explained more than just a few things. Like, the entirety of her life so far, for example. “I demand an apology,” she shrieked, for reasons that she herself didn’t fully comprehend. (Hysteria? A glitch in her brain? All that pent-up stress manifesting itself in mysterious ways? Honestly, it could have been everything from that list or nothing at all, but voicing it like that, without caring what others might think, did feel oddly refreshing. You know, it could have been kind of nice had she not been fighting for her very life!)

“Practice fucking makes perfect,” she responded, feeling absurdly warmed by the compliment. It just… meant something, okay? Coming from her opponent and everything! (Cassia Sempronia had pretty much always had an entire army of sycophants in tow, thanks to her family name more than anything else. Over the years, that had granted her a pretty reliable lie-dar, and here, no lies were detected.)

“Eeek!” Cassia squealed, shattering her new-found self-respect in one fell swoop. Had Elizabeth just… picked her up? As if she’d been nothing but a damn sack of potatoes?! Before the girl could as much as protest, though, she found herself pressed into the couch, unable to escape. (Aw, shit. Shit, shit, shit! This day couldn’t possibly get any worse, now could it?)

“Fine,” she relented, partially because the wound was beginning to sting. (People with manners less stellar than hers might have said it stung like motherfucker, but Cassia? Pfft, of course that she would never even dream of uttering such a phrase. A young lady like her would never!) “I mean, not fine, but I get it, I can’t afford to have actual fucking standards here. Go on, look. Do whatever you want, it’s not like I haven’t already been fucked over by everyone under the sun. Might as well join the club at this point.” …bitter, much? Maybe, but she felt that her situation warranted some bitterness here.

“So, are you going to tell me what you’re planning to do to me this time?” Cassia asked, into the resulting silence. “Now that you don’t need to lie.”

 

[sullen]

Lizzie could finally relax, blessed with the knowledge that her head was no longer in danger of colliding with a metal pipe. For now. The jury was still out on the state of girl's mental health. She could at least trust her to stay still while she worked on disinfecting and wrapping her back.

"Yeah, welcome to Orsus. Getting fucked over is a requirement here."

Her comment was meant to be snide, but it was hardly an exaggeration. The moment one was born on the surface, their life was destined to be filled with misfortune and hardship. If she felt like trying, Lizzie supposed she could find some sympathy for the Elysian. The stories she'd heard growing up about Elysium all described it like a paradise. Knowing the pleasures of the floating city would make crashing down to the surface feel like a plunge into hell, but to them, it was just reality.

"I'll get to that soon," she stalled, "As clever and talented as I am, I can only focus on one thing at a time."

The dried blood had stuck to the sack, so Lizzie had to cut a square and peel it off. With a water bottle and a washcloth, she did her best to clean the excess stains as well as fresh blood dripping from the two stubs on the girl's back.

"This'll sting like hell, if it doesn't already," was the warning she gave before dabbing a vodka-soaked towel over the wounds. She finished the patch-up job by wrapping her torso in bandages and tying a pretty little bow in the back. "All done, prin-cess. Though I feign to believe this meets your high standards, it's better than bleeding out on a dirty sofa—like my Ma, for example."

"Anyways," she steamrolled on, not missing the old ache of the memory, "about what I'm going to do with you—there's something you should be aware of, first of all. I'm a hundred and fifty thousand in debt right now, no thanks to you. The thing that caught you after dropping a few thousand feet from the sky was a material-electric barrier that's deployed on command. It's meant to deflect meteorites and space debris, but in your case, it saved your life.

Basically, it's expensive as fuck and it wasn't even mine, so now I owe the guy a new barrier. And you're gonna help me earn it back."

Lizzie collected the dirty cloths as she spoke, tossing them in a basket to be washed and returning the medical supplies under the floorboard. As an afterthought, she added, "The alternative is refusing and being kicked out onto the streets. If you're lucky, you'll die of natural causes. The more probable scenario is you're kidnapped and chopped up for parts, or they sell your body in the underground market. Take your pick."

After rummaging through a large chest beside her workstation, she pulled out a pair of trousers, a faded button-up, undergarments, and socks. She tossed them onto the couch.

"Assuming you don't want to die... you should try fitting in. As funny as it'd be to see you run around in a bloodied sack, I'd rather avoid unwanted attention. So what'll it be?"

Lizzie crossed her arms, anticipating her answer. It was really an ultimatum, but she'd be damned to find any better options for a stranded, sheltered girl in this world. As much undeserved resentment she held for her, she would not force her to go with her. Being $150,000 in debt wasn't the end of the world. I've gotten out of worse situations. This one mistake can't stop all the progress I've made, I won't let it. Don't worry.

Fia.

 

[Syntra]

Cassia would have loved to say that, every fucking day, they strayed further and further away from the god's light, but she honestly wasn't too sure whether Orsus had ever enjoyed the privilege in the first place. It just... seemed to exist as Elysium's personal dump, you see? Which did check out, considering what they'd done to her. Sigh. (No, that wasn't how the rest of her life was supposed to go! Father was meant to hand her the torch, and after a few not-too-serious but super fun scandals, she should have settled down-- the name of the Sempronius should have been hers to wield, and hers to build up as well. The usual ambitions, nothing too fancy! Except that, instead of getting to nurture those, Cassia... was going to become some rando's convenient cash cow, apparently. Awesome, why not! Like, she had heard that life sometimes went places, but never before had she suspected that the place she would end up in would be the equivalent of a baboon's flaming ass.)

"Yeah, I'm afraid I'm fitting in all too well already," the girl winced. (Did those words elicit that reaction, or were Elizabeth's ministrations been to blame? The cause and the consequence blended together strangely in Cassia's mind, and honestly, one as well may have been the other.) "How does the hierarchy work here? 'Cause, if your rank is determined by how intensely you got fucked over, I might just become your fucking boss yet. Not that you... ouch, ouch, ouch... won the genetic lottery by being born here, but at least you have the luxury of having no standards. Like, I don't think that you even know what you're missing." ...did it happen to you often that your mouth worked faster than your entire fucking brain? Because Cassia sure wasn't a stranger to the phenomenon, and once again, it was now threatening to destroy her... hmm, could you even call it 'life' at that point? Probably not, and that was the one solace that she found in this goddamn mess. Silver linings, ladies and gentlemen!

"No offense, though," she raised her hands defensively, even if it did feel like the cheapest attempt at damage control in the recorded history. "Just an innocent observation. I, um, I'm sure that there are some advantages to living here. Like, you can probably appreciate how brief life is more authentically? To me, all those poems that waxed about that always felt hollow." Indeed, because living in the literal hell could be offset by a deeper appreciation for pretentious literature! Once again, Cassia lowkey found herself thankful for the blow to the head that she'd received, because there weren't too many excuses for that. Like, absolutely none, to be exact.

While Elizabeth may have been a certified liar, Cassia found out, to her great misfortune, that she didn't necessarily lie about everything. Her prediction about the wound stinging, for example? Yeah, the skin on her back may very well have been set on fire! (Tears filled her eyes, but she only bit her lip, too stubborn to embarrass herself further. Gotta... endure... she told herself, for reasons far beyond her understanding. Just, endure for what? For some wild, foolish hope that her fellow Elysians might realize their mistake and send her an apology? Somehow, Cassia didn't really expect a 'forgive me' letter-- if anything, they were more likely to mail her some anthrax. That, or a knife. A dull one, too, so that my end isn't too quick.)

"Wait," she sought out Elizabeth's gaze, her own eyes incredulous. "Why would you spend so much money on me? Are you out of your mind?" Unless her """savior""" had expected some sort of material reward, then this made no sense at all! (But also, logically, she couldn't have known who she was. Hmm, hmm. Two very different conclusions collided here, and Cassia Sempronia found herself at a total loss.)

"Ah, so many choices!" she gave Elizabeth the faintest hint of a smile, her expression just a few steps away from genuine mockery. "All the variety is simply fucking paralyzing. Just to be clear, though, are you implying that me tagging along won't result in me getting eaten?" Doubtful, to be honest, but at this point, Cassia decided to at least listen. How could a discussion possibly make this any worse? (And, in case fate itself was listening, this wasn't a challenge.) "How do you think I can help, then? I do realize I'm not doing myself any favors, but I don't think I have that much to offer besides those organs. I did use to be pretty rich," she admitted, "but I guess I can safely use the past tense here."

 

[sullen]

Does this girl ever stop talking? The question played on repeat in Lizzie's mind whenever the Elysian girl opened her mouth—which was often, she began to learn. The strangest thing was that rather than provoking her, as the carelessness in her words may suggest, she actually grew more confused. Like she almost started feeling bad for her.

Not my problem, Lizzie chanted instead, annoyance replacing the brief flash of emotion. Pity was worthless. It wouldn't improve the situation they were in, not by the slightest. She didn't have the time to be worried over inconsequential things, yet her mind still betrayed her with one simple, obvious fact. You worried enough to help her, though.

"If you need to read poetry to learn how to appreciate living, you must have one boring-ass life. I suppose that's changed now, hm?"

She knew how badly alcohol burned cuts, let alone two giant gashes, so she was silently impressed when the girl didn't make a peep. That emotion was quickly squashed when she decided to talk again, however, and Lizzie met the other's eyes with a glare of her own. "I didn't mean to," she huffed. It was half true. She had no idea that electric barriers cost such a fortune—more than she'd ever stolen in her life. If she had known back then who the girl was, she, she... What would I have done? It was an uncomfortable thought, and so like the others (she's been having a lot of those lately), it was buried underneath more immediate, tangible issues.

"That's probably the least of your concerns, that is, here in the settlements. I doubt any humans would want to taste you, but there are dozens of nasty creatures out there who would gladly feast on your face, however strange-looking." Lizzie ran a hand over the circuits on her left arm, "If you come with me, I can at least guarantee your safety if we have to travel through those parts. You don't have any money either, so even if getting eaten isn't a concern, you'd starve. Food is scarce and most water is contaminated. I'm sure you know why."

She cracked a sideways smile, mirroring the girl's almost-sneer. It would seem like they'd never get along, and that suited Lizzie perfectly fine.

"To pay off that grand debt I mentioned, I'll have you work for me as a, well, assistant is the nice way of putting it. I'm what you might call a bounty hunter, but I do more than just capture wanted men. Stealing, conning, gambling, street performing—even the odd job here and there. We'll be travelling a lot, since I hate staying in one place for long. Also helps to avoid running into people who are not entirely fond of me, due to reasons.

"Oh, and I knew as much. Your attitude just screams 'spoiled, rich brat'. It's the sort of thing big, bad men in the shady parts of town can practically smell. I'd be careful if I were you." Her delivery was flat but there was the faintest hint of jest. "My bike's just in the back. We should get going once you're clothed, if you haven't changed your mind."

 

[Syntra]

Was it possible to, like, hate someone five seconds after meeting them? After they'd saved your life, too? Cassia Sempronia was certain that her philosophy professors would have rejected the idea-- hatred, after all, was a complex emotion, and one that had to brew in your mind for a few weeks at least. Blah blah blah, no hatred without intimacy, blah blah blah, love was the other side of the coin. Basic stuff like that, really. You know what else it was that Cassia knew, though? That they were full of shit! It was either that, or Elizabeth Krueger was just uniquely predisposed to generating hatred within people, kind of like how solar plants created green energy but infinitely fucking worse. Just, did she have to rub it in her face? Did she? (The answer, of course, was yes-- mostly for 'fuck Cassia Sempronia' reasons. Lately, fate had been weirdly invested in making exactly that statement!)

Sullen, Cassia pursed her lips. "Yeah, I'm having the time of my fucking life now," she sighed. "So far, my Orsus experience has been 10/10. I'd recommend it to all of my friends if I had any." (Never had she thought the day would come, but... yeah. The chicks who had called themselves her bffs till they went blue in the face? All conveniently gone, the second the judge had pulled that sentence out of his fat, unwashed ass. The truth was hard to face, but it turned out that money truly couldn't buy friends-- it could lease them, sure, but only for as long as the rivers of cash kept flowing. In her circles, nothing was ever free! ...ugh, how sad was that? The fact that it was Elizabeth fucking Krueger who had broken that rule, despite all odds. That she had saved her, not knowing anything about her name, her family or how big of a price she could fetch on the black market. ...no, no, Cassia didn't want to think about that. There was no reason to add 'depression' to her ever-growing list of problems, was there? Existential dread was for people who could afford pay for their therapy, and it seemed that she had exited those ranks quite unceremoniously.)

"Oh, so you didn't mean to," Cassia mocked, purely to make herself feel less like shit. It... sort of worked? Having a target to absorb her frustrations was sort of nice, she had to admit, and those who thought it unfair could genuinely go fuck themselves. "Maybe you should see a doctor for that? I mean, the chronic good Samaritan syndrome does seem like a lethal fucking condition around here."

The girl continued to ramble, and with each vulgar word that fell from her lips, Cassia felt increasingly more crestfallen. (Was this her descent into the world of crime? Truth be told, she had imagined it to be... well, more exciting than that. More of a 'spreading my wings' moment, instead of good old coercion. Sigh.) "An assistant," she muttered, her tone resigned. "You fucking sure about that? I'll have you know that the greatest crime I have ever committed was looking much better than everyone else in pretty much every room. As impressive as that was, I'm not sure if that would be helpful in your schemes." Maybe, if she approached it from the logical standpoint, Elizabeth and her astronomical debt would just fuck off? ...pfft, yeah. As fucking if.

"You mean to tell me that there are people who dislike you?" she smirked. "I can't imagine why. Did you accidentally step on their foot while kidnapping them? That tends to make people angry." Deciding not to comment on the spoiled brat part, Cassia accepted whatever clothes her """savior""" gave her. After all, didn't she have a point regarding blending in? The sooner she looked like one of those poor bastards born on this godforsaken planet, the sooner she could run away and... uh, go die in a ditch. Yeah, that was the extent of her plan so far. "I don't know," Cassia checked herself out in the mirror. "I think I still look too--"

"Oh hello, Lizzie!" There were few situations when the sudden presence of armed men was a good sign, and this didn't appear to be one of them. Their leader, who was wearing a mask, particularly seemed like bad news-- judging from his tone alone, Cassia would have thought he fucking owned the place. Asshole, she judged preemptively. "Heard you caught something interesting today. Don't tell me you aren't going to share? C'mon, hand the girl over and nobody gets hurt." ...huh?!

 

[sullen]

At the sound of the man's harsh greeting, Lizzie spun around to face the intruders. They were just filing into the already cramped shed when she got a good look at them, though she needn't look at their faces to know who they were already. She had tensed up the moment she'd heard the familiar voice but easily hid her stress with a bright sweep of her arm.

"Gunther, what a lovely surprise! You haven't come to visit me in ages, I was starting to worry you'd gotten your face ripped off by a Mauler—unless, that's what the mask is for?" She counted four men in total, with the possibility of more waiting outside. They were each wielding unsightly weapons of the cruel, recycled variety. Wooden chair legs with nails, a bloodied sock mace filled with rocks, and some other appliances that were clearly not being used for their intended purposes. Lizzie would normally be calculating her escape at this point, should be, but there was one small wrench in the equation now that she was no longer alone.

"Now, now," she chided, hands raised in a placating manner, "We can be civil about this, gentlemen. Why don't we all take a seat and we can talk this through?"

"Very cute, Lizzie, but I'm the one calling the shots 'round here. Don't even bother fighting it. You're outnumbered and I ain't above hurting a pretty face if you get in my way."

Gunther swung the modified sock mace in his hands as if to emphasize his point. Think, Lizzie, think! Taking a slow breath, her eyes flitted over to the girl on her right. She could just hand her over. The man didn't seem to be in a negotiating mood, so the smart thing to do would be to simply concede and save herself. He made his intentions clear and was probably being truthful about leaving peacefully if he got what he wanted. There was little chance of escape—the men had blocked off the only entrance into the windowless hideout and she was in a bad position for a fight. This was an easy decision. It was easy, so why can't Lizzie just hand her over?

No. It wasn't that she couldn't, but that she didn't want to. It was becoming harder and harder to convince herself that it was only because of her debt. Pity may have been worthless in her world, but she couldn't stand the alternative, either. She would choose anything else other than apathy.

With a sigh, Lizzie dropped her arms to her sides. "Alright, I give. She's all yours, Gunther. This isn't my problem anymore."

"Good girl. That wasn't so hard, was it?" The masked man looked to his lackeys and jerked his head, signaling for them to make a move. They rounded in on the girl and grabbed an arm each, applying force if she struggled. Lizzie watched her be dragged towards the door with a neutral expression.

"Put her in the truck bed and tie her wrists. We need to take her to the boss, but as long as she's in one piece, whatever happens between is fair game." If Lizzie could see his face, it'd probably be grinning luridly under the mask, missing teeth and all. He was the personification of all the garbage on Orsus and Lizzie despised him with a passion. If there was any reason that she even stood him for this long, it was that one day she'd finally see him eat shit. Maybe today was that day.

She caught the girl's eyes before the men took her away. A slight pang of guilt went through her, but she didn't do a thing—not until she was sure no one else was looking. When the thugs had turned their backs, Lizzie slowly moved her lips, a silent but plain message only meant to be understood by the other.

"Hold on."

 

[Syntra]

Eh? Eh?! To be honest, Cassia hadn't thought that this nightmare could possibly devolve into something even worse, but, ever fucking reliable, fate was there to give her a glimpse of Nightmare 2.0: Electric Boogaloo. (If there was something she didn't want even more than being stuck with Elizabeth, it was being stuck with strange men. Men who were statistically likely to be violent, too, considering their grand fucking entree. I'm dead. Dead, dead, dead! And, in case that she somehow wasn't? Cassia had a distinct feeling that she would learn to appreciate that state soon-- 'cause, you know, death at least left you alone. It did kill you because that was its fucking job, but afterwards? Nothing but sweet, sweet peace. Maybe some reincarnation, if you happened to believe in that sort of thing, though all the relevant scientific findings pointed to nothingness. Which, wasn't that infinitely preferable to being tied to a bed and... uhhh... being used for their sick fantasies? Since Cassia genuinely fucking doubted that they'd be playing poker!) "Don't even think about that," she warned them, her voice small and shaky. (Inevitably, her eyes darted towards the exit. How many steps would it take for her to get there? 'Too fucking many' was the answer, and it wasn't even certain if it would help because god knew how many of his inbred friends were waiting for her outside. Ugh!)

"I, um, I am..." What? A trained fighter, with a million kills under her belt? A secret superhero who had been itching for the opportunity to kick some one-dimensional villains' sorry asses? ...yeah, even with their communally owned one (1) brain cell, they weren't too likely to fall for that. "...a bad omen," Cassia finally settled on. "My presence alone has fucked up the lives of pretty much anyone who tried to get involved, including myself. It's like some weird, contagious form of cancer. Spiritual cancer. If you kidnap me, my misfortune will affect you as well!" It was a valiant attempt, but also one that didn't fucking work-- not that that surprised her, mind you, but Cassia never missed out on an opportunity to evaluate just how fucked she was. (The result of her analysis: super, super, super fucked!)

Elizabeth will save me, right? she thought, with the kind of conviction only dead (wo)men walking could ever muster up. I'm her precious assistant! Surely, she wouldn't just abandon her assistant? Like, Cassia couldn't very well assist her while getting kidnapped by random shady men, and her companion appeared to be weirdly invested in that. So, any minute now, Elizabeth would be... ah, denouncing her responsibility. Not her problem, huh. "I'll be all of you fuckers' problem real soon," Cassia exploded, against her better judgment. (It did sting, strangely enough. She and Elizabeth weren't even on the first name basis, and admittedly, she had tried to bash her skull in with a metal pipe, but she had thought they shared a bond! You know, that particular bond that came with being a woman and trying to avoid this exact nightmare scenario, no matter what. Ah, well. For Orsans, 'solidarity' was apparently a word with one too many fucking syllables to parse.)

"Touch me and I swear I will gouge your eyes out! I have nails and I'm not afraid to use them."

"Ooh, feisty!" one of the men chuckled. "She'll be a fun one, boss. I can tell."

That was, of course, when Cassia noticed Elizabeth's gesture. Hold on? For fucking what? Because Cassia was holding on, and so far, that wasn't exactly working out for her. Was she, like, meant to shame them into releasing her? To give them the famous wounded doe stare and watch them crumble under all that delicious, delicious guilt? Pfft! She may have been from Elysium, but that didn't mean that she was terminally fucking stupid. Just, that wasn't a requirement for attaining citizenship. They did say that they were meant to capture me alive, Cassia realized. That ought to grant me some leeway.

So, you know what she did? She did walk with them, alright. Like a good girl, Cassia did exactly what they wanted her to do-- right till the moment she turned around and delivered a swift kick in between one of those guys' legs! (Um. Elizabeth was going to do something, right? 'Cause if not, then her 'fucked' levels had just increased thousandfold.)