Chapter Text
The city of New Romand laid quiet. The city was unique in the way where it was bustling and full of life during the day, but had essentially no night life. All that was done in that city at night was done in secret, and forgotten about the next day. Tonight held an exception, however. Tonight, a run-down pub that had been abandoned for nearly four years was filled with life again.
Roaring, living flames.
“Captain!” A shrilling voice called out through the smoke. Miss Mercy, or ‘Captain’, didn’t have to try and squint to see who it was. She recognised the voice immediately. Klara, her most diligent worker. Perhaps her closest friend.
“Captain, hold on! I’m coming!” She yelled, her voice drowning out in the sound of sirens and the talking of an officer over the PA system outside the base. He was telling them to come outside, that they would choke on the fumes if they decided to burn the evidence, because the place was surrounded.
“Bring the others. I know a way out.” Mercy yelled, putting a hand up to wave and get their attention. Her throat burned even worse as she opened her mouth and the stinging in her eyes stayed. She quickly covered her face again with the scarf, and began crouching towards the hatch. She didn’t know if the others followed along, if Xander had heard her and had put down the dunk of gasoline or if Bex had quit throwing files into the flames. She didn’t even know if Beau was there, or if he’d been smart and self-preserving as always and fled quietly into the night. She kicked the wooden hatch open on the floor with her foot and her hand twitched as she was about to take hold of the staircase leading down. No, she needed to keep holding the scarf up as cover, she was already getting lightheaded.
She squinted to try and estimate her fall, decided it was useless, and jumped right through. The distance she fell? Well, long enough, since it hurt like a bitch reaching the rubber floor below. A low groan escaped her, but the relatively clean air down here was priceless. She was in a narrow hallway, rubber floors and concrete walls, leading into two different directions at the end of it. When this was still a pub, stock used to be rolled in through these underground hallways and stored in the rooms here or brought up into the pub. It was mostly done because New Romand was a city of crooks, and a truck filled with supplies could stand on the street unattended for a good while during the stocking process.
Glancing up at the hatch, she only saw a sliver of grey smokey darkness through it. Nobody seemed to come. They’d all escaped death daily for the past four years, so what was stopping them now? No time to question. She got up on her feet and ran. Straight, left, left, door. She grabbed the keychain from the pocket of her jacket and jammed it into the heavy duty metal door leading out. It would take her to an alleyway out the other side of the street, connecting to the street where the delivery trucks would stop. A last glance behind her. Still nobody. She currently owned absolutely nothing at all.
Mercy’s steps up the staircase leading onto the street were calm, each step deliberate but made to look effortless. She could still hear the sirens and PA speakers faintly, but soon her footsteps on the wet cobblestone would dominate. She didn’t glance behind her, didn’t put her hood up or do anything to make it seem as if she had any association with the chaos behind her. The air outside tonight was humid, but a freshness was still brought to it from the cold. It had been raining just recently.
The billboards and storelights from the city’s center guided her. She needed to get somewhere with at least some people, be in a bit of bustle to clear suspicion. Stepping out of a last crooked little alleyway, a big stone platform opened up in front of her, surrounded by blinking stores and tall buildings. It wasn’t crammed, but there were still a good amount of people in the square eating from foodstands, shopping and watching a street performer pretending to be a statue. She wondered when those guys went home for the day, it was dark out, after all. Perhaps he wanted to catch the last wave of shoppers and curious tourists before relaxing.
She settled onto one of the short stone steps that led into the lowered square and people-watched for a bit. Wondered where they would be headed home for the night. She felt something icky, like a sour taste on her tongue. Was it jealousy? Most likely, she reasoned, jealousy would be appropriate to feel in this situation. But the jealousy wasn’t justifiable. This was all her fault, really. She could’ve stayed in that god-awful house with her deadbeat dad and accepted she was never meant for more than to be a survivor. Accept to everyday face and live with the man who killed her mother, and she’d still have a place to rest her head tonight. Maybe it was best she didn’t, now that she thought about it, have a place to sleep.
“Seek me if you ever change your mind, yes?”
The words came to her suddenly, echoed in her heart. Seek me. She reached a hand into the inner pocket of her parka, and fumbled around for a bit until she felt the familiar outlines of it. She pulled the golden pendant out, with the beautifully crafted mini clock at the end of it ticking away. For a moment it seemed like the city, the whole world stopped and warped around her and that pendant and brought her back to a time she’d much rather forget, but perhaps must remember. The invitation from a man named Dream.