Whoosh!
The clinic doors slid open as Seraniti stepped out, the chill in the air biting against her skin. She exhaled softly, her breath visible for a moment before dissolving into the crisp atmosphere. Pulling her jacket tighter around herself, she tapped the interface on her bracelet and called for a cab.
"Let's get this over with," she muttered, her tone tinged with exhaustion. At least this was Fiesta, not the Columbian States, where if the medical issues didn't kill you, the bills probably would.
She didn't have to wait long. A sleek black cab pulled up in front of her, its glossy surface reflecting the faint glow of streetlights. She climbed in, sinking into the seat as her bracelet glowed faintly, connecting with the vehicle's payment system. Without a word, the driver began to move, the hum of the engine blending into the soft symphony of the bustling city outside.
As the cab navigated through the streets, Seraniti's eyes wandered to the towering plates above. The architecture of nomadic cities in Terra II was a marvel in itself, a blend of practicality and elegance designed to maximize space and functionality.
Traveling between sections wasn't as straightforward as most would assume. Parts of the highways connecting the plates were collapsible, their structures designed to retract or adjust depending on the terrain. These highways attached directly to the pillars surrounding each plate, which served as the city's structural backbone. The pillars weren't just functional—they were an aesthetic feature too, allowing light to filter through them from any angle, ensuring the city was never cloaked entirely in shadow.
As the cab moved closer to the edges of the section, Seraniti's gaze flicked toward the distant boundary. The edges of the plates weren't just sheer walls; they resembled the undulating movement of a river wave, a design choice both for safety and aesthetic purposes. If anyone dared to approach the edge on foot, they'd find themselves blocked—not by physical barriers but by multiple overlapping screens, invisible yet impenetrable. These layers prevented people from even getting close to the edge, a necessary precaution in a world where gravity itself felt negotiable in these massive nomadic structures.
The journey was smooth, the transitions between sections seamless. The cab glided over the highways, each connection between the plates meticulously maintained to avoid even the slightest disruption in movement. Seraniti leaned her head against the cool window, watching the lights of Fiesta blur past. Vendors and pedestrians became faint shadows as they moved deeper into the heart of the city, toward the central plate where Marcus was waiting.
After what felt like an eternity—but was only a matter of minutes—the cab pulled to a stop in front of her destination.
Seraniti gestured to the driver, her bracelet glowing briefly as the payment processed. "Thank you." she muttered, stepping out into the chilled air. The driver nodded wordlessly, pulling away as she stood at the edge of the busy thoroughfare, her grey eyes narrowing as she scanned the area.
Seraniti glanced around cautiously as she stepped out of the cab. Her fingers dipped into her jacket, retrieving the suppressors she had tucked into her bag earlier. With a swift, practiced motion, she slipped them into the inner pocket of her jacket. She walked briskly for a few minutes, the faint hum of the city fading into the background as her destination loomed ahead.
She stopped briefly at a small trash bin , tossing the now-empty bag into the bin as she lit it on fire. The smell of burning plastic lingered as she turned away, her pace steady as she approached the towering building where Marcus waited. Her company occupied the top 20 floors, a choice Marcus had always insisted was simply "what was available." Seraniti had her doubts, but she didn't care enough to question it.
The glass doors slid open with a faint whoosh as she stepped into the lobby. The space was sleek, modern, and far too polished for her taste. The faint scent of artificial lavender lingered in the air as she approached the front desk.
"Hello, how can I help you?" the receptionist asked, her eyes fixed on the screen in front of her. Her tone was monotone, her attention clearly divided.
"Appointment with Marcus," Seraniti replied flatly, her gaze drifting to the marble floor, which was far too familiar.
The receptionist glanced up briefly before nodding. "It's relatively empty, so it should be quick," she said, pointing toward the elevator as she scanned Seraniti's card.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and Seraniti stepped inside without another word. As the doors slid shut, she rolled up the sleeve of her jacket, revealing the smooth skin of her arm and the faint lines of older injector marks. Pulling out one of the suppressors, she examined the device. Her canister was mostly black, its matte finish absorbing the dim elevator light, while the injector tip gleamed gold—a detail she'd never bothered to care about.
Seraniti slid the vial into the canister with a practiced motion, the device locking into place with a satisfying click. She pressed it firmly against her arm, wincing slightly as the sharp injector pierced her skin. A faint hiss accompanied the release of the liquid, and a mild warmth spread through her body as the suppressor did its work.
Still works, she thought, exhaling softly as she slid the suppressor back into her jacket. She flexed her fingers briefly, feeling the dull ache in her joints subside.
Ding!
The elevator chimed as it came to a stop, and she quickly adjusted her sleeve, ensuring nothing looked out of place. As the doors slid open, the atmosphere shifted immediately.
The floor buzzed with activity, a stark contrast to the calm of the lobby below. The faces of her colleagues greeted her—individuals who, like her, occupied the grey, dangerous space of their shared profession. The diversity was striking. Some carried swords, others guns, shields, or MICA's, some of which bore an uncanny resemblance to fantasy staffs given a modern twist. A few even wielded weapons similar to Seraniti's, their designs efficient and battle-worn.
Although Seraniti was strong, she was by no means the best—or the strongest—among them. She could easily spot several individuals who could give her a run for her money, their confidence and skill evident in the way they carried themselves.
The air hummed faintly with the sound of conversation, the occasional clang of metal against metal, and the soft chime of devices activating in the background. The room's occupants moved with purpose, each one prepared for whatever mission or task awaited them.
Seraniti stepped out of the elevator, her grey eyes scanning the room briefly. There was a quiet understanding among them—an unspoken acknowledgment of shared experiences. Adjusting her jacket slightly, she let her hand brush against the suppressors tucked inside.
Seraniti knocked on the door, not waiting for an answer before pushing it open. What greeted her made her pause—a
"Cough. Softie." Seraniti snickered, crossing her arms as a faint smirk tugged at her lips.
One of the little cubs, a girl with bright eyes and boundless energy, spotted her and bolted across the room. "Auntie!" she squealed, launching herself at Seraniti with surprising speed and accuracy.
"Whoa, whoa—Hey!" Seraniti groaned as the cub, named Amaryllis, clung to her leg with the ferocity of someone three times her size. "I'm not your aunt." she muttered, her grey eyes narrowing as she grabbed the girl by the legs and dangled her gently in the air, swinging her lightly like a pendulum.
Amaryllis giggled uncontrollably, her tiny hands flailing as she shouted, "Again! Again!"
Behind them, Marcus stood, brushing off his hands. "Cough, well, you caught me at a bad time, but you're here nonetheless." His voice was deep and steady, though a smile lingered on his lips. He was larger than most Lupo, his broad shoulders and solid build a rarity among a species typically known for their lean frames.
As Marcus approached his desk, he pulled out a small folder and slid it across to Seraniti. Amaryllis, undeterred by being swung around, climbed onto Seraniti's shoulders with the nimbleness of a cat and began toying with her stiff, feather-like hair.
"It's been four years already, huh?" Marcus said, his tone softer now. "You joined right after becoming an adult at twenty-three."
Seraniti rolled her eyes but didn't refute him. He wasn't wrong. Most species could live at least 150 years, give or take a few depending on genetics and environmental factors. Adulthood was universally marked at twenty-two, and like everyone else, Seraniti had stepped into the world's chaos as soon as she could.
"Call me old-fashioned if you will," Marcus continued, his accent carrying faint traces of his origins. "But coming from Itarosca, I prefer it this way. Structure, purpose. Even if it's not always clean." His gaze flicked to her, his sharp eyes searching for something in her expression. "And you—you've seemed fine this past month, no?"
Before Seraniti could answer, Amaryllis tugged on one of her ears with childlike curiosity. "Ow," Seraniti muttered, flinching slightly as she swatted the cub's hand away. "Hey, don't pull on those. They're attached, you know."
She adjusted the cub on her shoulders before responding to Marcus. "Yeah, I've been normal for a month now, I guess. How much longer it'll last…" Her voice trailed off, her tired grey eyes darkening. "Doesn't matter. I'm leaving this damned country anyway."
Amaryllis gasped dramatically, her tiny hands flying to her mouth. "You said a bad word! Auntie, that's one for the swear jar!"
Marcus let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. "She's got you there."
"Yeah, yeah." Seraniti grumbled, plucking Amaryllis off her shoulders and setting her down gently. "Swear jar. Noted."
"Well," Marcus said, gesturing toward the door, "go on then. Head up to the bar upstairs and get something to eat before you leave, yeah?"
Seraniti nodded, grabbing the folder from the desk. "Fine." she muttered, stuffing it into her jacket as she turned to leave. Amaryllis hugged her legs briefly before skipping away to rejoin the other cub.
Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, the little cub had slipped a small token into Seraniti's jacket pocket—a silent gesture, its meaning known only to the child.
As Seraniti walked out, Marcus's voice followed her, his tone both teasing and warm. "Try not to burn anything down on your way out, good luck. Be seeing you kid."
"Not a chance." she called back, waving lazily over her shoulder as the doors closed behind her. Seraniti took the stairs up to the bar, her boots echoing softly against the metal steps. The faint murmur of voices and the clink of glass grew louder as she approached.
When she stepped inside, the bar greeted her with the familiar smell of cigarettes and alcohol. The air was thick with it, tinged with a faint undercurrent of something fried and greasy. She wrinkled her nose slightly but made her way to a table in the corner, a spot where the shadows stretched just enough to offer some privacy.
She sat down heavily, her tired grey eyes scanning the room briefly before settling on the window beside her. Outside, the city sprawled endlessly, a patchwork of lights and shadows that seemed to flicker in time with the faint jazz playing in the background.
With a faint glow from her eyes, she placed an order using her bracelet. Katsudon, Niku Udon, and Daiginjo-shu. A classic choice, one that always managed to cut through the haze of her exhaustion. She leaned back slightly, her fingers brushing against the edge of the table as she waited.
The food arrived quickly, brought over by a waiter who placed the dishes and drink in front of her without a word. Seraniti muttered a faint "thanks" before digging in. The rich flavors of the katsudon and udon were satisfying, the warmth spreading through her like a small, temporary reprieve. She washed it down with the daiginjo-shu, savoring the sharp, clean taste.
She continued eating as the camera panned out from the room, to the building, the city and finally the region.