REALITY CAN BE SUCH A DRAG with all its stupid expectations. It makes total sense that people want to escape into a realm of fantasy. Who wouldn't want a break from a world that seems to have forgotten how to be kind?
Ratelsi's realm was the sky; an infinite blue, always wide open with nothing but freedom waiting on its breezes. From an early age, she'd been aware of her place in the world around her. She didn't belong, neither socially nor biologically. Normies could get pretty suspicious, and most of them practically recoiled at the thought of Peculiars existing at all.
But Ratelsi had wings and that changed everything. Flap!
Just like that, she was soaring high above all that judgment and negativity. Honestly, if you had to ask, she'd argue that being stuck on the ground was fine for everyone else but her. Once she felt the exhilarating rush of flight, the boring, solid ground lost all its charm. You could say she absolutely loved that feeling of being up in the clouds, where everything down below seemed distant and totally unimportant.
Especially with all those cold, ugly glances around.
What's with Normies acting like they have the right to glare just because someone's got scaly skin or can move things with their mind? Weren't we into that kind of stuff in movies? If Ratelsi got a Cred every time Normies made her feel like curdled milk, she'd be rich enough to buy the entire city two times over and still have Creds left to stroke the Primarch's ego.
But Ratelsi didn't lose sleep over shit like that. They could scowl all they wanted. The opinions of others were the least of her concerns. Leaning into that awareness was what she preferred rather than softening herself to make others comfortable. She owned the sky, and there was no way anyone could take it away.
Flap! Flap flap!
Ah, wings… Huge, stunning feathers as dark as obsidian. Each one was smooth and reflective, yet no two were the same. Some resembled splinters while others were long like blades. Cold to touch…. an odd feeling, really, obedient too, as if they were meant to be extensions of her own body.
It was wild how, simply by focusing her thoughts, Ratelsi could command them to levitate gracefully into the air or multiply before her very eyes. This peculiarity allowed her to soar anywhere she desired. But, of course, there were limitations. Most of her flights took place within the safe boundaries of Los Te'pan's protective barrier. Even though life in the metropolis was a mixed feeling, it was often enough for a thrill-seeker like her.
Los Te'pan had beautiful places like the capital, Balun, but then it came with a shit ton of ridiculous rules and tiresome responsibilities enforced by the Cura, who strutted around, telling everyone how things should be run. Hilarious, really…
As she pondered this with a smirk, a sudden buzz broke her train of thought. Vrrr.. Vrrr… Ratelsi glanced at her HoloSmart, a sleek communicator on her wrist, vibrating to signal an incoming call. She looked great in a black outfit that showed off her slender figure. The sleeveless halter top with a deep V-neck revealed the right amount of medium brown skin. A net overlay snuggled her curvaceous breasts. A chain belt cinched her waist, while the skirt flirted above her knees, paired with net stockings held up by garters. Silver cuffs wrapped around her arms, and helix bands traced the curve of her ears.
With another flap, Ratelsi landed on a shabby rooftop, crunching dusty, loose shingles beneath her boots. The narrow buildings formed an alley of steel with flickering neon signs above colourful walls. It was a no-fly zone where her wings couldn't spread out, so they tucked neatly behind her and vanished. See? Super handy.
She casually swiped to accept the call. A holographic screen flickered to life in front of her, showing a blinking phone icon.
"Yooooo!!! You better be on your way, Ratel. You're not slackin', are you?"
This loudmouth through the speaker belonged to her best friend, Timoth, a cheerful personality who had a knack for making the mundane feel bearable. He was maybe also her only friend, but that's beside the point. Timoth's boisterous shout sliced through the air, making Ratelsi tilt her head back and crack one eye open. Molten amber with slitted pupils fixed on the screen with a deadpan look.
"I'm almost impressed by how quickly you just made me fantasize about ripping out your tongue," she drawled in a smoky voice. "A new record, actually."
"Wow, what's next? You gonna demand my vocal cords as trophy?"
"Don't tempt me with a good time, Timoth. You might just regret asking."
Timoth's projected laugh filled the space. "Yeah yeah…you say that but with your tendency to get easily distracted when flyin', ten seconds could stretch into ten days before you make it to Oakeman."
Ratelsi waved a dismissive hand and let out a light-hearted "Pfft." But she couldn't help the grin that crept across her full, pouty lips as memories of how their friendship began at North Te'pan flooded her mind. Eight years together in the segregated academy for registered Peculiars, with its drab, routinized environment, was where they learned to harness their supernatural abilities for what they were told was for the "safety of society."
Meeting Timoth there was a stroke of luck in her otherwise exhausting life, and they've been kindred spirits ever since.
"Yunno it's almost four and we've got deliveries rollin' in, right?" Timoth reminded Ratelsi. There was that signature playful urgency in his tone. She rolled her eyes, quipping. "Yeah, I got the memo already." Another chuckle from Timoth softened her annoyance; he always had a way of lightening her mood. Besides, she couldn't play the smooth operator with him for long. After all, he could see right through her antics, even if he never talked about it. Timoth practically had a radar for detecting her half-baked plans and fibs.
".…If that glorified trash heap offered anything remotely resembling a good time, I might actually pretend to be excited. As it is, I'm perfectly happy not dying to be there," she continued.
"Aw, c'mon, don't get all snippy with me, Ratel. Broco's gonna throw a tantrum again if we don't get these deliveries out before midnight. Haven't you seen how he glares at you since that whole incident with Mhode? I swear, it's like he's just itchin' for a reason to pounce if anything gets messed up." Another chuckle, and she could almost picture the mischief in the vivid blue of his eyes.
"Nah, they won't risk their own necks if it means they're just gonna get beat up as well..…"
Ratelsi hummed, not even willing to torture her thoughts with the consequences of what happened last week. It was unnecessary to dwell on all that drama; in fact she felt no ounce of regret. Mhode totally deserved that slice she'd given him across the cheek. Man, it was easily one of the most gratifying things she'd done in ages!
A little reminder it was to that dimwit who thought he could be all touchy-feely with her whenever he felt like it. And it sent a clear message to Styx and Vesir as well, that if you mess with the raven, you'd better be ready to get clawed. Those two had a hard time digesting the whole situation while watching their friend finally get put in his place.
Still, she had to admit, racking up more enemies wasn't exactly the smartest plan.
"Hey, just to be clear, our deal with Broco tonight is done after two deliveries. If I have to put up with his shite attitude for even one more day after that, I'm out. He doesn't pay us nearly enough to play fetch and suck his damn feet." she hissed.
"Uh, Ratel…" Timoth's voice interjected, sounding a little strained. "Actually, it's three deliveries now. Broco just couldn't resist addin' another, apparently."
Her eyes, which had just begun to relax, widened in frustration. "What!? Why?" she blurted out, a little high-pitched. Nearby, a flurry of startled birds took flight as Timoth inhaled sharply through the line.
"I know, I know, sorry. Really. But…Broco's sayin' this client is a big fish, and he's gonna double our Creds for it. Double, Ratel! Think of all the cool shit we could buy this time. You know how long I've been eyeing new batteries for Gwendoline. This gig could actually make--"
He cut off abruptly as Ratelsi hung up the call with a frown creasing her face. Tch. How naive could he be? Broco was obviously lying through his teeth. A wave of indignation crashed through her. How dare he treat them so disrespectfully?
Eyes narrowed, she scoffed, "Double our Creds. You could at least try to be more original, Broco."
She kicked a few gravel stones off the rooftop, letting out a slow breath to steady herself. Their satisfying tumbles didn't really help with her annoyance, though. Ratelsi turned her attention to the late afternoon scenery before her. The May sun beat down on the Underdistrict rooftops with golden rays baking the maze of metal buildings filled with streetlights, bright neon signs, and flashy digital ads.
Skybridges crisscrossed between the structures at various heights.
Even in daylight, Altown kept its glow.
From quite a distance, the sounds of kids having a blast on their patched-up hoverboards reached her. With her brain processing audio like a 3D map, she didn't need to see them; the raucous laughter and playful shouts three blocks away painted a pretty vivid picture in her mind. Somewhere west, excited dogs barked their heads off, probably chasing after whatever mischief had caught their attention.
Tilting her head back, Ratelsi soaked in the wild, chaotic soundtrack as it prickled her skin. What a bummer. She really didn't want to deal with helping Timoth with Broco's "gifts" today. But they didn't have many options. Delivery running was, in many ways, as honest as it got in a place like Altown, especially when finding regular jobs was a hassle because of their "unpredictable" nature.
For a Peculiar, stable employment could only come from the Cura. They determined who's safe enough to be employed. Ratelsi had long stopped listening to their scripted speeches about how every Peculiar could save a life today by using their abilities. All that talk felt like empty theatrics meant to dress up how they monetized their powers.
So, no judgement here, right? Cool.
Perhaps, this time, Broco would actually follow through on his promise. And if he ended up pulling one over on them, well then, she'd just have to teach him a lesson he wouldn't soon forget. Her long black nails unconsciously flexed in and out as she thought of how she'd handle things if it came to that. Just hearing his stupid name was enough to bubble her frustration back to the surface!
Ratelsi furrowed her brow, lifting her chin defiantly as she approached the edge. In disregard for the dizzying height, she simply pushed off and plummeted downward. The wind instantly caught her thick, dark waves, tossing them around her face as white-streaked bangs slapped against her cheeks. A faint smile touched her lips as the gusts intensified.
Flap! Massive wings unfurled from her shoulder blades, turning her plunge into a smooth glide. The woman tilted, banked smoothly to the left, and picked up speed, feeling every subtle shift in the air currents as she flew faster. Carefree. Effortlessly, she rose into the afternoon sky where there was no filth underfoot, no burden in the soul.
A world in the sky.
Ratelsi let out a relieved sigh; she felt unabashedly alive! Adrenaline surged through her veins, heart racing, mood lifting as she stretched her magnificent 11-foot wings wide. Soaring eastward, the buildings below faded into a blur of shadows and colours.
******
OAKEMAN AUTO
THE BIG, OPEN GARAGE was a chaotic sight with cracked concrete and exposed metal beams everywhere. You could practically feel the neglect in the air, which was heavy with the scent of oil, ozone, and something that was just…well, off.
Scrapped motorcycles with gutted engines lay on their sides, stripped down to frames, while others were propped up on makeshift stands to make scarecrows. Orange cones sat on their dilapidated heads. One wrecked vintage 2017 hoverbike had its outer shell peeled back like a weird fruit, revealing a tangled nest of fried wiring inside. Further in, mangled cars sat dented at odd angles with cracked holographic screens.
Tools and abandoned data pads were scattered all over the place. The sheer amount of the broken machinery here was a bit mind-boggling. But that didn't bother the sun-kissed Peculiar perched on a rusty dumpster; he was busy scrolling through delivery info on his HoloSmart when Ratelsi strolled in. Amber eyes immediately found tall Timoth, blue-eyed with honey-colored curls. He wore a red t-shirt with a metallic silver coffin on it over a tee that said: Maybe I'm just stubborn. Wussit 2 ya?, pairing it with brown cargo pants.
A friendly expression, tinged with enthusiasm, welcomed Ratelsi as he waved her over. Between his fingers was a cigarette slowly burning down to nothing. Waving back, Ratelsi strode over to lean in for a quick puff.
Timoth said to his best friend, "Hey, birdie. Ready to work?", sounding surprisingly eager to start. Ratelsi puffed her cheeks, and when the sun hit her face a certain way, her lips took on a rosy sheen.
"Y'know, the whole idea of being ready implies I have to psych myself up for something as mundane as work. And I'm never really ready to work, Timoth," she replied, exhaling smoke into the dingy air.
Timoth sighed dramatically, but with a slight smile as he pointed a finger at her. "Translation: You're lazy. Again. What's it gonna take for you to do some liftin', a motivational speech?"
"Heh. I'd like to see you try to give one." Ratelsi scanned the jumble of parts next to him before looking ahead into the street. Broken streetlights flickered weakly, the power cells long since scavenged. The shabby buildings were almost leaning into the road, and with no cameras around, the whole block felt deserted and bleak. Broco for sure chose the ideal shady spot for a pick up.
"Sooo, where's our cargo?" she probed, trying to get this over with as soon as possible.
Timoth nonchalantly gestured to the right. "See that dusty yellow hoverbike with the label 005418? That's ours."
Ratelsi turned to the machine looking like a rusty relic from a different time. Grimy and held together with thick chains, it stood stuck in a heap waiting to be claimed. Timoth remained intent on his HoloSmart as he continued, "Broco says we need to drop it off at The Basin, though. He even gave us specific entry points to use."
Ratelsi placed her hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow. "He wants us to deliver his goods to the black market?"
"Yup," Timoth replied.
"Looks like our last-minute client is a pretty big deal after all."
Timoth nodded, indicating he'd thought the same thing too. Well, that explains why he seemed eager. Trying to hold back her anticipation at the thought of double pay, Ratelsi let a small smile creep onto her face, raising just the corners of her mouth.
"Any idea who it is?"
"Not a clue. Didn't ask."
"Right. And I guess Broco doesn't want us snooping around either, huh?"
"Yeah, or else we'd probably be…." He trailed off, dramatically running his thumb across his throat. Ratelsi's lips twitched, then stretched out into a wide grin, revealing sharpened canines with obsidian edging on her incisors. "Threats, huh? Yunno, Timoth, I was hoping it would come to that. I'm suddenly excited to show him how my threat ends with his teeth blocking his nostrils. Think of it as payback for all the last-minute deliveries he keeps giving us."
"Wow….that's so…vivid," said Timoth, blinking as he took a final drag, exhaled, then stubbed the cigarette butt with his sneakers.
His dimples deepened beside his mouth as he studied Ratelsi with a slight, almost impressed smirk on his lips. That grit of hers both alarmed and comforted him; it always had his attention. She wasn't fazed by Broco's threats, which were a bit absurd, yet it was somehow reassuring that she didn't give in to the same fear-based logic he typically did. Impulsive and independent, but he'd seen other sides he wished she'd let out more often.
Just once, he'd like to protect the weariness she hides.
A giant yawn stretched Timoth's jaw wide. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, crinkling at the corners as he cracked his neck sideways. "Anyway, let's just wrap this up. I'm so ready to put this whole thing behind us." Ratelsi shot him a playful look. "We're definitely gonna peek inside that thing, right?" "Obviously," he replied, hopping down from the dumpster. Ambling over to the hoverbike, he grabbed its handles with a grunt, making a half-hearted attempt to push it. Then he gave up.
Ruffling his hair, he turned to his companion, "Gimme a hand, will ya?"
Ratelsi ran her tongue along her teeth as she thought it over. Then she walked around Timoth, stopping in front just a breath away so he could catch a whiff of her resinous scent. She was so close he could make out every detail, and that made her sudden proximity feel even more intense. Timoth felt his heart skip a beat, surprised by the rush of emotions as her fingers slipped into his pocket.
"W-what are you….," he stuttered, feeling her warm skin brush against his through the fabric. Ratelsi probed deeper, holding his gaze until he flushed and looked away, then broke into a smug smile. Heh... how's that for a distraction? Timoth was smitten even if he didn't realize how obvious it was. And she enjoyed taking advantage of that whenever he tried to make her do the dirtier parts of their work.
Damn it, why does she always do this to me? Timoth thought, his freckled cheeks burning beet red. Ratelsi's flirting was one of the many things about her that he had no control over; its allure was both irresistible and dangerous. She hadn't even spoken and yet... How else could he explain the fluttering in his stomach every time she looked at him like that? The glimmer in her half-lidded eyes and the curve of those infuriatingly perfect lips pulled into a smirk sent his brain in a frenzy.
Every clever retort he'd prepared dissolved into static under the weight of her gaze.
Maybe it was inevitable to feel out of sorts, but for a moment, he swore he felt this tugging sensation, an inexplicable pull to get closer, much closer to just….
Fluttering her eyelashes, Ratelsi calmly pulled her hand back and lit a cigarette, her glossy lips illuminated by the flicker of the lighter. No, wait... Timoth's hands twitched, ready to grab hers, to hold on to them for a bit longer.
Shit, I'm losing it, he groaned inwardly.
"Did you really think I'd say okay and ruin my outfit? You know you can handle that junk on your own," she chuckled, inviting him to share in her mirth. Instead, Timoth pretended to be annoyed before letting out a short, bemused laugh.
"Oh, you little tease…Fine, whatever," he replied, trying to play it cool even though he felt anything but. Sighing, he crouched down on the dirty concrete, pressing his palms against the ground, fingers splayed out.
He quietly said, "Granum Ascendens."
The azure in his eyes glowed softly, shining brighter as he rose. Using his peculiarity, granular manipulation, he lifted the debris around into a sandy stream, sending it flowing towards the hoverbike perched atop the junk pile. The old, battered model seemed to float on the sandy ramp as it was carefully lifted, until it landed on the ground with a soft thud.
Now that it was fully visible, the hoverbike definitely showed its age. The frame was all scratched up, dented, and covered in dirt. The seat, in particular, was wrapped in thick plastic and held together with duct tape at the edges. Timoth whistled as he ran his fingers over the heavy machine. "Man, this thing looks pretty solid," he said. As he tugged on the rusted chains keeping it down, his sleeve rolled up a bit, revealing a mole right above a branded barcode tattoo shaped like a "P" on his wrist - a reminder of his status as a registered Peculiar.
Looking at Ratelsi with a playful grin, his eyes gleaming, he said, "These chains are way too thick, wanna give it a go?" She shrugged and pulled a feather from the garter on her left thigh. Separated from the others, it seemed almost ordinary with its matte surface lacking any lustre.
"Acuere Plumas," she whispered.
As soon as the activation spell left her lips, a subtle sheen ran across the feather's delicate barbs, bristling along the edges and sharpening into a blade. Her mischievous smile effortlessly amplified the mirth that had lit up Timoth's face. He enjoyed just watching her do her thing. One swing was all it took for Ratelsi to slice through the chains. The loud clank as it hit the ground echoed down the empty street as she stowed her blade. Timoth quickly checked the surroundings to make sure they were still alone, then tore apart the duct tape holding a compartment beneath the seat.
"Huh," he mumbled, peeking in, "Just the usual stuff - some cheap guns, a couple of scrapped drones for parts, and a few power cells. Looks like enough for two deliveries." But then, his hands found a hollow section beneath the contraband. "Oh wait, there's a loose panel here."
Still burning a cigarette, Ratelsi watched him dig around. Before long, she heard a click, and Timoth pulled out a small package wrapped in plain cloth. Half-hoping for some flashy cargo, Ratelsi squinted, but what he had in his hand looked remarkably unassuming.
"Looks like we found our third delivery," Timoth said to Ratelsi. "So, are we gonna open it or just keep staring?" A playful sparkle lit her amber eyes as they met his. "Do you even have to ask? My sudden curiosity demands satisfaction!"
"Hell yeah, ditto."
Taking his time, Timoth slowly unwrapped the cloth to reveal a cylindrical container that caught the sunlight. "What is this? A capsule or something?" he muttered, flipping it around to get a better look. Ratelsi couldn't help but chuckle at how clueless he was regarding the small red light blinking steadily on the side. There, she noticed an engraving at the bottom that read "E.X.O.N."
Her brow furrowed with curiosity about what the initials could mean.
But before they could linger on their thoughts, a thick cloud of vapour poured into space between them as the lid popped open with a soft hiss. Timoth and Ratelsi froze, exchanging wide-eyed looks that screamed, "I swear it wasn't me!"
The funky, almost medicinal smell that filled the air wasn't what they expected.
Genuine interest lit up Ratelsi's features, fueled by Timoth's soft gasp as he stared at what was now visible inside the container.
"Bruhh…you've gotta get a load of this," he breathed, awestruck.
Ratelsi, who had always been drawn to what lies beneath the surface, smirked as this object spoke directly to that hunger. Inside the capsule lay five shards of an iridescent blue mineral, each about the length of a pinky. They pulsed with an internal light so intense it cast an otherworldly blue glow on their astonished faces.
Silence enveloped Oakeman, broken only by the wind gently caressing the landscape, as if trying not to disturb it. This was not just any delivery, and if they were right, they had stumbled upon something monumental. A thrill of excitement mixed with a hint of dread as a chilling realization dawned on them at once.
"Oh fuck….these are Luminites," Ratelsi muttered.