Just kidding. I'm fine.
The wind whips past me and my stomach jumps into my throat and I laugh to myself as I fall fifty stories and the street comes racing to meet me but instead of splattering on the pavement I kick off the air and transfer my momentum horizontally. Like a pinball I bounce off metal signs and buses and buildings while the force dissipates.
I land my shoe on a glass window then flip to land on my feet at the intersection of Ninth and Walker, toss up my hood, and slip into the crowd. Despite the dramatic entrance, I'm already invisible. The best thing about that pandemic a few years ago is that it brought face masks into the mainstream, and I always keep that thang on me.
Black surgical mask up, my fit still the same popping blue hoodie, black leggings, and pristine white and blue NA-27s, I head on. Along the way, I slide down the railing and escalators into the metro, hop the gate, and get on the F-Train heading west on the Redline. It's kinda late so the commuter crowd is gone, leaving it reserved mostly for people going out. There's a group of girls a little younger than my age down to my left dressed to the nines and they're just so damn cute I can't help myself.
Pulling my mask and hoodie down, I stroll over there. "Yo, you girls look ready to kill, don't you?" They gasp and gush and all the usual excitement flares. Oh Gods, you're so famous! You're so cool! Can we get a picture? "Course you can. Wanna go for the hashtag? Fuck yeah, you do."
A few months ago somebody started #kissthestorm and now it's all the rage for girls to–you guessed it–get a kiss from me. They're calling it good luck. A blessing from above. I am more than happy to oblige.
I smooch all three of them individually, thrilled to be receiving some tongue as a nice surprise from the second girl, then do a group shot before fleeing the scene. I don't do actual conversations, and even though it'd be effortless, I'm too busy to take one or all of them home. So... No point bothering to stick around. I'm sure they'll post the location so I'm gonna need to ditch the heat again but whatever.
Worth it.
Sure enough, I have to take a lap around the neighborhood when I hit the surface to evade the corporate police, finally severing the trail by slipping through a cut in the dark. Some fiends and thieves hit me with the routine but I spark blue and they back off with nods of respect, weapons back in their belts, and all their teeth still in their gums.
Stepping back out onto a different busy street, now totally invisible, I check my phone.
"Anna. Anna... Let's see where you've been."
Looking up her Grapevine page, I let out a whimsical sigh.
@dedgrl I'm just sooo deddd lol
Yes, we have matching tags. It's adorable, okay? Whatever!
She is definitely her father's daughter. Shining raven black hair, stunning red eyes with a permanently tired look to them, freckles, ghostly white skin, vitamin D deficiency, and kinda concerningly skinny at times. I can't remember the last time we saw each other or talked face to face, but it must have been at Uncle Dionysus' last cookout back in Summer.
I love Anna. She's my favorite. We grew up together. We're best friends. We were close all our lives, but then adulthood sorta just did what adulthood does. We're now rarely ever together, we're just kinda... around.
Sometimes. On occasion.
Her page is such peak dark academia aesthetic, and hardly any of the posts contain her actual person in any way. Most of it is highlighted book passages, gray-shifted flowers with ponderous poetry captions, pictures of beetles and bugs and little critters and odd bones, a few cute outfits with lots of tweed and stockings with her phone blocking her face, and a whole lot of song lyric vagueposting.
"So cute and desaturated... Such contrast filters..."
She's really low key but she still has a decent following, and she doesn't get half as much attention online as I do. I'm a lot more in people's faces about, uh, everything. Seems like I'm on the news every couple of weeks for something stupid, some sex scandal, or accidental explosion, or drunken stupor gone wrong, that sorta shit. And I'm still coasting off the afterglow of winning World Championships in MMA a few years ago too.
But, back to Anna. One of the only posts with her face in it is a pic of us together. She's beaming ear to ear, happy as can be, and then I'm grumpy and brooding or whatever. I love our dynamic. She's the daughter of Hades and she's resplendent. I'm the daughter of Zeus but I'm the cranky bitch between us. Real talk, that is. I'm a total goof otherwise.
It's just us, tagged May of two years ago, Mount Olympus, Greece. The caption is: wherever, whenever... love you forever! @strmgrl
Man, seeing the past sucks. Hate it.
I stop in a cafe to get some black coffee, pinching a couple airplane bottles from the liquor store to make it Irish. I hit the street and totally outta nowhere, I feel a little like [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: SUICIDAL THOUGHTS]. My heart hurts. The past hurts. Thinking about it makes me really damn sad.
Nah, nah, nah, nah, miss me with that shit. Skrrrt!
Posted up outside the cafe, I scroll back up to the top of her page. Her most recent post was on Wednesday, at the Central Library. Of course she would be at the fucking library. So that's where I go, popping my earphones in to jam out. It's kinda cold so I'm gladly in my hoodie. I love hoodies. It's funny, my legs could be freezing, but if my upper body is warm, I'm completely fine.
With another round of the razzmatazz, the ol' one two, the duck and evade the po-lice, I go unnoticed as I near downtown.
Central Library is a real relic–a converted cathedral with some pretty crazy architecture mimicked from, like, the Renaissance or whatever. I don't know. Oxford energy. It looks cool as fuck. The kind of library a gloomy scholar like the daughter of Hades would frequent. The kind of place I would avoid like the plague.
I go inside and wander up to the front desk. Mask up? Mask down? I'm just gathering information, so... Best not to draw too much attention. Mask up. A nice looking older lady wearing peak librarian vibes with a long skirt and a pretty blouse is busy mulling over some papers so I knock on the countertop a few times.
"Hi," I say when she looks up. "I'm hoping you can help me."
"That's what I'm here for," she smiles. "What can I do?"
"I'm looking for somebody. Anna Walsh."
"I... can't really help you find people, but I can help you find books?"
"She's a regular here." I show the woman my phone, the photo of us together, then the one taken from inside this very library. "This was Wednesday. I need to see any records you have on her from Wednesday. Maybe she checked something out, signed into the archive system, or used a computer. Right?"
"I'm afraid I can't help you, ma'am, not unless you're..."
She trails off as gold sparks flicker on my drumming fingers.
"Unless I'm what?"
"Come with me."
She stands up and hurries off.
I don't love being an asshole, but intimidation just works for me.
Checking the door to see if I was followed for some reason, I shrug to myself before following her into the stacks. Half wondering if I'm walking into an ambush, I rub my hands together to get the charge flowing in advance. Unless she's secretly a harpy or something, I don't think I have anything to fear from this old lady. Pretty sure she's just a Regular. Mortals. Humans. Pathetic, insignificant, and worthless. Like ants.
Chill! I'm kidding! I love the ants so much!
She pulls me aside deep in the library with a fearful hush to her voice. "Anna told me you'd be coming. She asked me to give you this."
It's a book. A book. "It's a book? A book?"
"Not just any book." She taps on the cover. "A book about decryption of secret codes."
"Oh, Gods fucking damn it! Not a secret code! Fuck you, Anna..." I flip through the pages, finding nothing of particular interest. "Ugggh! What code am I supposed to be breaking?"
"This." She hands me a long length of paper, thin and narrow, on which is written a bunch of letters vertically that make no sense in any particular order.
"Uh huh. Great. Thanks. So, what, I'm supposed to–Does this even have anything to do with her being abducted?"
"She was abducted?"
I sigh, walking away. "Thanks, lady."
I guess I'm sticking around to figure this shit out. Can't wait. Gods, leave it to Anna. Always testing me and giving me brainteasers and making me think and shit. Throwing a quiet temper tantrum of sorts, I knock some chairs around and whisper my curses since I'm in a library, then pick out the table she was sitting at in the post online to day drink Irish coffee while I pore over this asinine mystery she left for me to figure out.
Step one of my Divine quest. Think.
This whole thing might be harder than I thought...
A fucking thousand years later, I'm straight up sobbing, sprawled out across the table with scraps of paper everywhere balled up and rejected along with my stupid brain and its stupid failure.
"I can't do ittt," I whine to my phone, then plead, "Helllp meee... Aunt Athenaaa..."
"You are not supposed to be contacting me," she reminds me. Technically she's my sister, born of Dad's weird asexual forehead reproduction, but she's way too, like, refined to be treating her like a sibling. "Remember, little storm, any contact you have with us jeopardizes all of our plausible deniability."
"But I'm stupid and I can't figure it out!"
"Ugh, Nicole, you are not stupid. You're giving up too easily."
"I spent, like, an hour trying!"
"Really? An hour? A full hour?"
"Okay, closer to half."
"Nicole."
"Maybe fifteen minutes..."
"That's how long you've been trying. How long have you been at that library?"
"Like, six hours. No joke. I started reading a two hundred post long thread Grapevine dissertation on why the ending of the Minerva Archives was actually misunderstood genius instead of total fucking trash. I'm not swayed, not yet, but I might be."
"Gods, that ending was complete garbage. But stop procrastinating. Anna is waiting for you to save her, and you're here goofing off."
"It's harddd!" I whine, kicking my feet under the desk. "Fix it, please! Give me a hiiint!"
"Titans, you're incorrigible. And adorable. But, little storm, you are on a Divine quest. If you require my assistance, you'll need to do something for me in exchange."
I snivel and whimper. "What?"
"Father changed the password to the Oracle account. I need you to get it from him."
"Girl, corporate level media piracy is [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: GLORIFICATION OF ILLEGAL ACTIVITY]."
"Convenience. And he already pays for it. Might as well use it."
"Is this seriously gonna be my first Divine sidequest?"
"Do you think I'm not completely serious?"
"Uh. I'll call Dad."
"You do that. Make sure it's the right password. Call me back after."
Doot doot doot. She hung up on me.
I slam my forehead on the table and consolidate my willpower to give my stupid fucking father a stupid fucking phone call. I feel a genuine, physical pain in my chest at the thought of it. Ew. Feelings? I envision them burning. I need to do it. I love Anna. I gotta do it for Anna. And Alecto [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: SEXUAL CONTENT]. But mostly for Anna.
Honest!
Pulling up his number, my thumb hovers over the call button.
"Aw, fuck!" I exhale, walking around the table to get the dread out, then keeling over with my hands on my knees because I think I might vomit. "Oh, Gods. Oh. Gods. Ohh. Ohh... No. Gods. Fuck this. Oh, no. Nohohoh... Why? Whyyy?"
I groan from the bottom of my soul and press the stupid button.
It rings.
Maybe he won't pick up.
It rings.
He's probably busy.
It rings.
Ah, just missed him.
It connects. Fuck.
"Nicole?"
I feel sick. "Hi, Dad."
"What's wrong? Are you okay? Where are you? Do you–Do you need help?"
I might puke. "I'm fine. Nothing's wrong. Hang on..."
Beating down the feeling, I try to tap into the feeling I had when I was at the house. That was so natural! I didn't even have an issue! Why is this happening to me now? It's chill! It's chill! It's all chill! We do not have long standing issues as a consequence of my fucked up childhood! He has not done permanent and irreparable damage to my sense of intimacy and emotional attachment! Everything is perfectly cool with me and Dad! Just–Just chill. Just. Chill.
This is for Alecto [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: SEXUAL CONTENT]. This is for Anna.
Okay, I'm fine.
"W'sup, old man. Get this. I'm at the library."
"Holy shit, is the sky falling too?"
"Pfft! Atlas better not be slacking!"
Dad laughs his hearty laugh. Nailed it. "Oh, that's good. What's going on? What is it you need? Money again?"
"You assume I would only call you because I need something, father? You insult me."
"Divine quest, storm."
I facepalm. "Fuck. Forgot. Wait, do I have to do shit in exchange for your help too?"
"No, I'm your father. I can help. Within reason."
"Oh, bitchin'. A'ight. Um. I'm trying to get back into the Oracle account."
"Are you watching TV and movies or are you doing what you said you would do?"
"Bruh. No! I'm motivated! I'm really motivated. But I gotta maintain some discretion, you feel me? Can't tell you why I do all the things I do, right? Pleaaase? Just gimme? Without explanation? Pleaaase?"
"Sure, sure. I understand. Yeah, it expired. I changed it to the following. No capitals or spaces, your last name, your initials, and then your eight digit birthday."
I test it out on the mobile app.
Password: astoriana03231998
"Wrong password."
"Did you put the month before the day like some fucking American?"
"Ohh, Gods! I sure did! Jesus!"
Password: astoriana23031998
"Okay, I got it. A'ight, wicked. Thanks, Dad."
"Yep. You need anything else? How's your checking account?"
"I don't want your money. Stop it. I'm good financially."
I most certainly am not good financially. I have negative money.
"Mmm. If you say so. Well, you know how to reach me. I love you, storm."
Say it. Say it back. Say it back! Be a good fucking daughter!
"Yeah, I'll hit you up. Deuces."
I hang up on him with a sigh of relief. Glad that's over.
Calling Athena back, I let her know. "Got it. Texting it to you now."
"Excellent. Sidequest complete. Your reward is my assistance. Tell me what you have so far on this secret code."
"Yesss!" I take a swig of my [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: DRUG USE] and accidentally knock over a few of my two dozen empties. It's loud as fuck. "Whoops. Sorry, library nerds, my fault. Okay, uh, let's see here. So, I've been combing through her recent posts and none of them really strike me as anything abnormally secretive except for the most recent one. She was here, at this table, and there's a book in the shot titled Dark Urges."
"By Vannessa Frazier. A modern classic."
"And then the caption is: When eyes are watching and the fangs close in, the nights I've been haunting will begin again."
"That's a quote from the book. There's nothing cryptic about it."
"Fuck. She also left me this long strip of paper. She wrote a bunch of letters on it, it's clearly her handwriting, but it's like a ribbon, and none of it makes any sense, Aunt Athena. Please, help me."
"Did you look inside the book?"
"Yes."
"Let me rephrase that. Did you read any of the book?"
"Yes."
"Nicole."
"No..."
"I think the book she left you for cracking codes is going to be a decent resource to be used in the process of cracking the code she left you."
"But what do I do?"
"You read the book, Nicole."
"Wha–Reading? I didn't sign up for this to read! Only nerds read!"
The nerds around me at the library look offended.
"I'm kidding. I'm kidding! I love nerds! My best friend is a nerd!"
Athena sighs. "Titans, Nicole, you're killing me. Go to the section on Ancient Greece."
I flip to that page. "Okay."
"Read it."
"Bruh–"
"Read. It."
"Ahhhh! My fault again, nerds. I'm just having a serious self versus self conflict over here. I assure you, the dramatism is entirely necessary for my character development arc. Fine, fine. Okay. I'll read the stupid book. 'One of the earliest methods of Ancient Greek encryption was a method of transposition utilizing a tool called a scytale'–Aunt Athena, this is so boringgg."
"What is a scytale, Nicole?"
"Ugh. Ugh. A cylinder and a strip of parchment with vertical writing wrapped around its length which would... which would then reveal a decoded message, assuming the recipient possessed a cylinder of the same diameter to that which the message was written on. Okay, and?"
"And a beautiful addition to that invention was the change to ridged edges, to firmly align the letters in the proper place. What is the most common cylindrical thing in a library with a decent length and ridged edges?"
"The [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: SEXUAL CONTENT] in my backpack? Heheh! Heyo!"
"Not... that."
"Uh. Then... Table."
"Cylindrical shape."
"Oh, oh. Uh." I start chewing on my pencil, poring over the words on the page and trying to mentally review what Athena just told me. Gods, I haven't had to think this much since I flunked out of college. "Run that back, please?"
"The most common thing in a library with a cylindrical length and ridged edges."
I tap a rhythm with my pencil on the table. "Can I get a hint?"
"This is your hint."
I toss my pencil on the desk and groan. "I can't do this."
"Think about it, Nicole. I can't help you any more than this."
I roll my pencil back and forth. "I'm never gonna get it."
"You will if you think."
I flip my pencil and catch it a few times, saying, "Thinking is too hard. I'm [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: DRUG USE]."
"You're always [WEBNOVEL CENSOR: DRUG USE], Nicole. The answer is right in front of you."
"Right in front of me." I take that literally, because I'm desperate. "Empty beer can?"
"Try again."
Oh. There it is. Right in front of me.
I gasp, picking it back up. "Pencil!"
Doot doot. Athena hangs up on me.
"Too easy! Fuck yeah, I'm so good at this!"
I tape the paper to the pencil and wind it around the son of a bitch until it's tight. There it is, clear as day. The message reads in Greek: κόσμος με ακολουθεί, δεν υπάρχει διέξοδος, είμαι σε μπελάδες, συνάντησέ με στη σκιά.
People are following me, there is no way out, I'm in trouble, meet me in the shade.
"Well, great. That clears up nothing whatsoever. Fucking thanks, Anna. In the shade of what? We're in the city, everywhere is shaded–Oh, oh. Ohhh, I got you. Shadewood. I got you. Bet. On my way, beautiful."
Tossing my twelve empty beer cans in the trash like the responsible adult I am, I dash past the front desk, telling the nice lady I cracked the code and thanking her before jumping down the library's front steps into the chilly late night and running for–
"Oh hello," I purr to a pair of beautiful middle aged office women types as I pass. "Don't you two look nice? Where you headed? Oh, dinner out? I'd love to, but–Oh, sure, I've got time for pictures."
After smooching both lovely women for #kissthestorm and wishing them a beautiful day, I continue on my way to Shadewood. My phone buzzes in my waistband. I check it to see those pics already posted with me tagged. The caption is, Sometimes lightning does strike twice! I literally laugh out loud, like the post, and comment, bruh peak caption
Time to go!
My power surges, crackling and buzzing, and my legs spark a violent blue. The world stretches and blurs. My perception speeds along with me. I'm moving so fast everything around me is in slow motion.
You've seen this sort of shit before, the super speedy speedster and the moving so fast everything else is in slow motion and the whatever, so I don't really care to describe it much more than that. You get the gist of it. I may not be the speediest of speedsters, that title belongs to Hermes, but I go fast and I hit hard.
Leaping from high rise rooftops is always a thrill. I love the feeling, the sight, the rush, only intensified by the power coursing through me. Doing backflips and sideflips and frontflips too, and handsprings and cartwheels and casually clearing fifty foot jumps–Gods, I fucking live for this shit!
Annabellalizabethastasia, here I come!