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 as an anomaly. A human who didn't belong socially or biologically. Normies could get pretty suspicious, and most of them practically recoiled at the thought of her kind 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.
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 to 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 obsidian feathers. Each one was smooth and reflective, yet no two were the same. Some were splinters while others were as long as 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 or multiply before her very eyes. Her peculiarity allowed her to soar anywhere she desired. But as there were limitations, most of her flights took place within the safe boundaries of Argona's force field. Such a life in the metropolis was a mixed feeling, but it was often enough for a thrill-seeker like her.
Like the capital, Balun, there were beautiful places in Argona - Elvio, Sayge, Kakkis...but they came with a shit ton of ridiculous rules and tiresome responsibilities enforced by the Cura. Their enforcer were the Hunters in tight, blue armoured jackets with baggy pants tucked into high, lace-up combat boots. They strutted around like peacocks, basking in the fear they created, boasting their badges and detonators with the arrogance of those who knew they'd never be held accountable.
Almost every street was a checkpoint, and every Peculiar was a suspect. 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 metallic cylindrical smartwatch. The outer edges glowed faintly with a soft cyan-blue light, syncing with the neural net embedded in her spine. Small, illuminated icons circled the rim. Every Argonian had one, and hers was now vibrating to signal an incoming call. A gritty outfit accentuated her slender figure nicely: olive-green tank top with dark, micro shorts strapped with a leg harness. A studded belt cinched her waist, and helix earrings traced the curve of her ears.
With another flap, Ratelsi landed on a shabby rooftop, crunching dusty, loose shingles beneath her chunky, weathered boots with heavy soles. The narrow streets formed arteries of steel, brightened with neon lights above colourful walls. At the street's end, a wooden sign stood out, glaring in a red slash across the outline of a pair of wings. It warned: NO-FLY ZONE, which let her know she couldn't spread her wings, so the feathers folded neatly behind her and vanished.
See? Super handy.
She swiped to accept the call. The holographic interface projected above her wrist as radial patterns morphed into a phone icon.
"Yooooo, Ratel!! Are you draggin' your wings or what? You're not takin' a detour, 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 to crack one eye open. Molten amber with slitted pupils fixed on the screen with a deadpan look.
"Honestly, I'm really impressed you got me thinking about ripping out your tongue," she drawled in a smoky voice. "Never have I fantasized mutilation so quickly."
"Wow, that's delightfully barbaric. Shall I offer my vocal cords next? Or throw in a lung while I'm at it."
"Don't tease me, Timoth. I might just take you up on that."
Timoth's projected laugh filled the space. Calm and soothing, a sound she held dear. "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 they met at Peccatorum flooded her mind. Eight years together in that segregated school for registered Peculiars, with its bleak, routinized environment, was where they trained to harness their supernatural abilities through Latin spell-casting techniques.
They were told it was for the "common good" and the "safety of society."
There, her friendship with Timoth became 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?" he 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; its soothing sound always had a way of lightening her mood. Plus, he basically had a radar for detecting her half-baked plans and fibs, so there was no way to lie her way out of work.
"If that glorified trash heap offered anything remotely resembling a good time, I might actually pretend to be excited. As it is, I'd rather watch paint dry than pretend that place is worth my time," she continued.
"Aw, c'mon, don't get all snippy with me, Ratel. You know Broco's gonna throw a tantrum again if we don't get these deliveries out before midnight. He hasn't stopped watchin' you since that whole Mhode thing. I swear, it's like he's salivating for a slip-up." Another chuckle, and she could almost picture the mischief in the vivid blue of his eyes.
"Nah, they're not gonna stick their necks out just to get smacked too…"
Ratelsi hummed, unwilling to torture her thoughts with the consequences of what happened last week. It was unnecessary to dwell on that drama; she felt no ounce of regret. Her lips curled into a thin line, in what resembled a smug smirk as she relived the sensation of her nails digging into his cheek, tearing the skin open. For the next few days, the sound of his heavy breathing and pained groans became her new ringtone.
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 right now.
"Hey, just to be clear, our deal with Broco ends tonight. I'm not sticking around one second longer if I have to deal with his crap. He disrespects us, so he shouldn't expect us to keep running his errands for peanuts and kiss 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 paddin' the list"
Her amber eyes shimmered and took on a brighter hue, as if filled with sunlit magma. "What!? Why?" she blurted out, a little high-pitched. Nearby, a flurry of startled birds took flight. Timoth inhaled sharply through the line.
"I know, I know-sorry. Really. But…Broco's swearin' these clients are whales, and he's danglin' double our Creds in front of us. Double, Ratel! That's hard to ignore! You know how long we've been talking about movin' - it's been a while. This gig could actually be-"
He cut off abruptly as Ratelsi hung up the call with a frown creasing her face. Tch. How naive could he be? Obviously, Broco was lying through his teeth. Again. Like they were too dumb to catch on. How dare he treat them so disrespectfully?
Eyes narrowed, she scoffed, "Double our Creds. You could at least try to be more original, wanker."
She kicked a few gravel stones off the rooftop. Their satisfying tumbles didn't really help with her annoyance, though, so Ratelsi turned her attention to the scenery before her. Golden rays beat down on the Underdistrict's rooftops, baking the maze of buildings lit up with streetlights, bright neon signs, and flashy digital ads.
Skybridges crisscrossed between the structures at various heights.
Even in daylight, Altown kept its glow.
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 exploded in her ears, painting a pretty vivid picture in her mind. To the west, 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 brown 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 job came from the Cura. Through numerous MAP tests, candidates were assessed not just for skill, but for threat level and stability. The MAP - Mental, Arcane, and Physical - tests filtered out the unstable, the volatile, and the inhumane to determine who was safe enough to be employed. Ratelsi had long stopped taking those tests. She also stopped listening to their scripted speeches about how every Peculiar could save a life today by using their abilities "for the people". All that talk felt like empty theatrics meant to dress up how they monetised their powers.
So, no judgment here, right? Cool.
Perhaps, this time, Broco would actually follow through on his promise. And if he ended up pulling a stunt, well then, she'd happily 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!
Defiantly, Ratelsi lifted her chin as she approached the edge in disregard for the dizzying height. Without hesitation, she pushed off and plummeted downward. The wind instantly caught her long, wavy, dark hair with white highlights at the front and sides, tossing it around her round face. A faint smile touched her lips as the gusts intensified.
Flap! Black 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. Rising into the afternoon clouds 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. Others were propped up on makeshift stands to make scarecrows. Orange cones sat on their dilapidated heads. A vintage 2017 hoverbike had its outer shell peeled back like a weird fruit, revealing a tangled nest of fried wiring inside. Mangled cars sat dented at odd angles with cracked holographic screens.
The sheer amount of broken machinery here was a bit mind-boggling. But that didn't bother the sun-kissed Peculiar, perched on a rusty dumpster, 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 had on 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.
An enthusiastic expression 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 knowing look as he pointed a finger at her. "Translation: You're lazy. Again. Must I deliver a soul-stirrin' monologue to inspire your mighty arms into action?"
"Heh. Save the theatrics. Inspiration is for the weak. I work because I choose to."
Taking in the jumble of parts next to him, Ratelsi looked ahead into the street. Tall streetlights had their power cells long since scavenged. Their hollow stems cast jagged shadows in the early dusk. The shabby buildings were almost leaning into the road. With no street scanners around, the whole block felt quiet, 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 that looked 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."
With a displeased look, Ratelsi placed her hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow. "He wants us to deliver his goods to the black market?"
"Yup," Timoth replied.
"Huh. Looks like our last-minute clients are 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 stretched out into a wide grin, displaying sharpened canines with obsidian edging on her incisors. "Threats, is it? Good. I was hoping we'd get there. Now I'm eager to participate - and he'll see how my threats don't end in words..."
Then she laughed boldly, "I'd like to see his own teeth choking his nose. 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 of the poisonous smoke, exhaled, then stubbed the cigarette butt with his sneakers.
His dimples deepened beside his mouth as he studied the woman with a slight, almost impressed smirk on his lips. She was unfazed by Broco's absurd threats. That grit of hers both alarmed and comforted him because it meant she wasn't afraid to die - and that terrified him more than anything. Still, it was reassuring in a way that she didn't give in to the same fear-based logic he typically did.
Her snarky expression seemed to soften into a more reserved and measured one. Ratelsi skillfully hid her emotions under a mask when they weren't necessary. But even such a prickly person needed someone to open up to, share her feelings with, and receive support from.
Timoth longed to be that person so badly. Every time they met, Ratelsi was her usual irritated, easily annoyed self, and yet he still managed to catch rare glimpses of the person she really was when she involuntarily softened, and even occasionally showed compassion.
She allowed him to get close to her real self, but as soon as she felt he was trying to get too deeply into her soul, she laughed it off and pulled away.
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 lip, thinking it over. Unhurried, she walked around Timoth, then leaned in just a breath away so he could catch a whiff of her resinous scent. Her sudden proximity felt so intense that he could make out every detail as if the world had narrowed to just her.
She hadn't even spoken, and yet...the fluttering in his stomach shot up at how she looked at him like that. Through the flecks of gold in her irises. Half-lidded, they held a gaze that reached, pulled, and held him on the spot. The curve of those infuriatingly perfect lips pulled into a smirk sent his brain into a frenzy.
Every clever retort he'd prepared dissolved into static under the sight of her features, as if her presence had short-circuited his wit, leaving only awe and unfinished thoughts.
Timoth felt his heart skip a beat, surprised by the rush of emotions when her fingers slipped into his pocket.
"W-what are you….," he stuttered, feeling a pleasant shiver run across his body as her warm skin brushed against his through the fabric. Probing deeper, Ratelsi held 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. Maybe it was inevitable to feel out of sorts, but he swore he felt an inexplicable pull to get closer, much closer to just…
Fluttering her eyelashes, Ratelsi calmly pulled a cigarette case from his pocket. She lit one, her glossy lips illuminated by the flicker of the lighter. 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.
She released a thin stream of smoke to the side and returned her mirthful gaze to him. "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…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. The earth seemed to vibrate as the debris around swirled into a sandy stream and flowed towards the hoverbike perched atop the junk pile. The old, battered model floated 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. Peccator. Sinner. A permanent 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 her leg harness. Separated from the others, it seemed almost ordinary with its matte surface lacking any lustre.
"Acuere Plumas," she chanted.
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. They were half-hoping for some flashy cargo, 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."
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.
The woman who had always been drawn to what lay beneath the surface smirked as this object spoke directly to that hunger. Inside the capsule lay five shards of luminous blue energy stones, each about the length of a pinky. They pulsed with an internal light so intense it cast an otherworldly 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 dread as a chilling realization dawned on them at once.
"Oh fuck….these are Luminites," Ratelsi muttered.