The midnight peace was shattered by the sound of boots running on stone, and the sight of a young man crashing into every wall he possibly could as he attempted to outrun his pursuers. He never held his hands out to stop his fall, save for a few times with one, as it seemed as though he valued what he was holding far more than his own body. A small envelope, addressed to no-one, was tightly clutched in his hand. Clearly, he had to deliver it. Clearly, he was not permitted to deliver it- not legally, anyway. His pursuers weren't just other citizens concerned with the property damage he was causing by ramming into their buildings, but a small group of Yellowjacket Hornets, armed and ready to take him down if they ever caught up.
Behind them, as was often the case in M-21, was a man who would probably never catch up. Dishevelled and exhausted, with his pole-axe in hand, overseer Quinn Sawyer ran behind the squadron of greatly enhanced hornets, trying to use the wings on his back to propel him faster than his feet would allow.
"Stop... stop right there!" He gracelessly spat, "You're never gonna outrun them- just give me the fucking letter, for crying out loud."
Quinn pushed past an old woman, almost knocking her to the ground in his pursuit.
"Can't you sanctimonious pricks play hero on someone else's shift for a change!?"
She paced her eyes up and down, from the clock to the door, back up and down and back up again. She was double annoyed. Why? Because A: there was still time till her shift technically ends and B: the damn hornet of the next ship hadn't showed up and she did NOT want to take up an extra shift. Not tonight. Tonight was her night goddamnit. "Why does it move so slooow?" She rubbed the palm of her hand across her face, glancing sideways at the Hornet next post. She already had her pack over her shoulders and was a step outside the box already.
"Ugh." She grumbled to herself, on the verge of admitting defeat, but just then, a yellow jacket walked in, one of her comrades, the right one! She jumped up, ecstatic, almost as though she'd give her a hug but of course they did no such thing. They were made to murder, not love and joy. So she gave a look that said You are late Josephine. AGAIN.and picked up her stuff to move out of the post.
The air outside was chilly, and it was dark. Of course it was both. A tiny side entrance opened up to her as she rubbed her keycard against the small glass of an electronic panel. This was one of the service entrances of the city, a popular hornet highway, if you will. A few minutes later, Sam was walking down a quiet empty downtown street towards her home. Just how she liked it, to be honest. She hoped she could've reached home without a hassle, but alas that was not quite to be seeing as- Well, she heard crashing first, enhanced senses picking up on the disturbance of something...or someone creating a local disturbance.
As she turned, contrary to expactations, it was the yellow jacket she laid eyes on first and then much later who they were running after. "The f-fuck!" HE WAS COMING RIGHT AT HER. Or maybe not at her at her, but definitely in her direction. I'm technically off duty so this is not my business plus I'm not part of the city patrol... OH WHAT THE FUCK I WILL DO IT!
She did not know how to hold back, at all. She picked up her stinger from her back, gave it a twirl to show off, before pressing a button to arm it. "Catch!" She yelled, throwing it aimed at the guys knees, after a split second calculation of his speed and trajectory, hoping to whatever deity above she did not miss and don't have to waste anymore time than she already did.
"Andrew, could you please make sure I remembered to sign the patient records for today?" Evelyn asked, pulling the last syringe vials out of the hot, soapy sink and drying them off with a towel. "I'm think I did, but - oh, and also, we need a new shipment of salicylic acid. We were short last week because of that fungal outbreak. Mr. Rivers is still having heart problems and I really don't want to have to shortchange his dose."
She struggled a bit to push the towel inside one of the vials - just a tremor, she usually got them around this time - but managed, quickly drying it out and setting it to the side before she had a chance to accidentally drop the thing. They didn't have the same sort of funding the hospitals got, and she wasn't ready to deal with another form requesting more supplies outside of her budget range. Things just - didn't matter as much, this far down. She understood why, but that didn't make it any less frustrating.
The sound of nearby shouts, followed by scuffled footsteps, sounded through the open window of the clinic. A thunk - a scream. Evelyn moved to the window, first, trying to make out the scene outside through the metal bars, then hurried to the front door, hesitating, before undoing the latch with jittering hands and throwing it open to the dim-lit street. Above, the electric lights hummed at half-capacity, casting the nighttime scene below in sharp, shadowed relief.
"Is everything alright?" she called out to the few people milling about - and to the group of yellowjackets outside. They were already beginning to move again as their target - a moth with a bloodied leg - started running again.
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
The rosy maple moth is the smallest of all the silk moths, with a wingspan of only 3 to 5 centimeters (1 to 2 inches). As larvae, they can strip entire trees of their leaves. Yet as adults, they cannot eat, having no mouths at all. However, this trait may be beneficial, as it allows the adult moths to have a sizable home range, traveling far from the tree where they emerged.
Nii’s footsteps echoed through the street as his wide eyes took in all that he could. He’d probably wandered the streets of District M-21 before, in fact he was certain of it. At some point or another he’d explored all the streets he could within Termitaria, his desire to know things driving him to map out what areas he had access to. Of course, he’d forgotten all that. But that was willingly forgetting, surprisingly. Nii had discovered, during his time working on the shells and with Nectar, that trying to do something one way after learning how to do it another was incredibly difficult. And while he could put in the effort to change the ways of doing things, why do that when he had a literal reset button? So that’s what he did, at least for mapping out the streets. He knew that he’d take the same routes over and over again, and if he wanted to find anything new lurking within the dark alleyways and grimy stones of his home, Nii wasn’t going to find it by following the same patterns.
So that’s what led him to this part of the city. Well, technically not. He chose this area entirely at random, picking a number and letter and seeing if it lined up with a district. After all, what was the point of going down an area for the first time if he got to pick which one? So it was little wonder that, upon hearing the sounds of feet clattering against stone, Nii immediately lost all interest in the winding streets and had to see what was going on. Letting his spotless cloak flow behind him, Nii began excitedly moving towards the noise, his hood flopping down around his neck, with his antennae flowing with the breeze. Eventually he turned a corner and saw the source of the commotion: another moth holding something close to his chest limping quickly with a bloodied leg, a group of hornets chasing him. Unsure of what to do, Nii raised his hand and waved it back and forth.
“Hello! I like your antenna!” Nii shouted. He did. He thought they were lovely.
This place was a shithole, and there was someone bleeding all over it, as usual. Fury stepped out of one alley into something that people liked to pretend wasn't just another alley, stopping immediately and assessing the situation, which was worse than she expected for this time of day in a place like this. Marginally worse. The place was still a shithole, just not quite as bad as the one she'd grown up in. Situation assessments came easy - she had to be good at them. Out in the field, a second's delay could mean death. She'd seen it happen. There weren't any Corrupted here, though - just a bunch of idiots. As usual.
Idiot with a bloody leg and a letter. Idiots with stingers chasing the first idiot. Idiot standing there without a stinger, having thrown it at the first idiot. Idiot without a clue - scratch that, two idiots without a clue.
Perfect.
If she'd been in her Shell, she'd have turned around and gone a different way and ignored this mess entirely, but that would mean walking farther, and her leg was bothering her. Again. Probably because she lived in a shithole - by which she meant Hiveholm in its entirety, not this specific part of it. She needed to get out again.
Soon. Soon. She was on the roster for two days from now. She could hold out that long. Numb everything for a while, get decently drunk, take the edge off until she got back into her Shell and things didn't suck quite so much. Soon.
But doing that meant going through this hallway and everything that entailed - which led her to her first analytical point: Ugh.
She stepped out into the alley anyway, arrhythmically, her cane leaving a mark in a splash of blood on the floor. Fury glanced to the assembly, unimpressed, and let her eyes drift to the bleeding asshole. She paused for a moment, then shrugged. Sympathy was wasted on... anyone, really.
"Walk it off."
It was as good a suggestion as anything anyone else was offering, anyway.
Bars had a certain feel to them, depending on where you were in the beetle. The upper levels were all crystal and light, bright and devoid of anything that could resemble life. They were beautiful places, utterly breathtaking and dazzling even but there was nothing there that made you feel like you belonged. The middle floors were different, darker, cosier places that invited you in after a shift to spend time with friends. Then, there was places like this.
Cramped and loud, tables with more gouges then surface and stools that were more mends than metal. They were dark, dirty, the grease on the walls rivaled only by the grease on the people. Places where the people the Beetle would as soon forget gathered. Still she sang and people listened.
She looked into the eyes of the weary and they listened.
Today had been a productive night though the music had started slow until she had pushed through the mandatory bit of patriotism. It picked up after when she could let the music flow, and there was a man who looked as though the beetle’s innards had turned his skin to leather who seemed more than receptive.
Always a productive night in places like these.
But for now the night was over, or at least she was getting that specific tilt of a head that she was always given when the hornet who found themselves tagging along for her little forays into the beetle under was getting tired of having the clientele stare. So, for now she simply had to take her bow and follow him out.
And it seemed there had been another incident. A moth with a wounded leg, a buzzing of hornets, a moth with clothes too fine for this place — not that she had any right to judge with the fine dress she wore — and a mantis come to help. Her hornet clicked his tongue as he stepped forward to see if his assistance was needed her, and Louise simply took the opportunity to follow behind.
A careless word here or there always was a useful thing.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
Of course he was going to fall. Even if the hornet hadn't thrown her stinger, he was going to trip sooner or later. Unfortunately, however, the stinger in the back of his leg meant he couldn't really get up- but that didn't stop him from trying. The moth grit his teeth and dragged himself to his feet, stumbling forwards with the some ungodly determination, still clutching the letter in his now-bloodied hands. He turned his head as he shuffled forwards, staring at the hornet with a mixture of burning rage and ice=cold terror. He. Could not. Fail.
He flicked a hand back, casting off flecks of blood that were quickly followed by a concentrated volley of icicles- not long enough to fatally impale, but sharp enough to hurt. If she wanted puncture wounds, he was going to fucking give her them. And... well, and anyone standing behind him. Sure, ice was fragile, and it likely wouldn't travel far, but it still wasn't a good idea to be standing in the line of fire- especially given how volatile the young moth seemed to have become. Still, he knew he couldn't get far. Running on the wounded leg only wounded it further, and there was no way he was going to outrun anyone like this. In a final act of desperation, he threw himself at the nearest friendly face- that moth who told him his antennae were nice. He threw himself at him and forced the letter into his hand, staring wide-eyed at him to whisper what might as well have been his dying wish.
"Cricket. Take this to Cricket. You know who that is, okay? Ask around- be QUIET about this! Ask... know who she is. Cricket, okay? Go. Now, go- what are you waiting for!? GO!"
Normally, Sam wouldn't feel bad for her prey because they were bugs- in Japanese they called them Mushi. Why did she suddenly remember that? Ugh well whatever, it was dreadful seeing him struggle, but there was another on the scene. Another moth, that is. Was he there by chance or was it planned? Had they planned to run a fucking marathon with whatever was in that document?
People, others were beginning to arrive on the scene. Samantha shrugged. "I have to retrieve my stinger," She told the others, the other Hornets in case they had mind to question her, which they did not seem to. "What a frickin night. Oy!" She shouted at the other Moth- to whom the one with her stringer was crawling towards. "YOU BETTER NOT BE AN ACCOMPLICE OF THAT CRIMINAL." She had a moderate to slow pacing, though, hoping in her heart that both of them escaped.
"Oh, dear," Evelyn muttered, moving out of the stoop of her clinic and into the street. She wrung her shivering hands, glancing between the group of yellow jackets, their target, the armored hornet, and the newcomer moth who seemed to be - some kind of accomplice? - to the other one. Two more bystanders had approached as well, though they seemed detached from the foray - a curious butterfly and an uncaring ant.
Evelyn paid the last two little mind, though the moths' interaction did pique her curiosity. Pests of a wing often cling, or however that saying went. Not that she believed the sort! She knew many upstanding moths, loyal to the hive and the queen and their duties as well. Still, it was a little odd that the newcomer moth's first words were to compliment an obvious criminal.
Well - not her place to judge. There was an injured man on her doorstep and, criminal or not, she had a duty to uphold. Her mandibles slid tight over her face from the slits in her jaw, sealing tightly around her nose and mouth.
"Andrew, please prepare a table. We're going to be working a little later than expected," she called over her shoulder. Then, she moved between the criminal and the jackets, careful to bow her head and not turn her back on either.
"Thank you for your service, sirs," she said with a nod to the officers. Up close, now, she realized there was a bee among them. A frazzled looking bee, but a bee nonetheless, holding himself in the way bees often did. Her attention immediately snapped to him. The jackets were irrelevant, here. He was the person she needed to address.
"If it's alright, I would be able to tend to this man's injury before you take him into your custody. It would make your duty easier, I think, sir, if he weren't bleeding and moaning all the way back to your station."
Normally breeding in sunny habitats in fields and along the coast, the spurge hawk-moth sports a rather average wingspan of 5.5 to 7.5 centimeters (2 to 3 inches). It is one of the fastest known insects, reaching speeds of up to 54 kilometers per hour (33.7 miles per hour).
Nii watched, eyes widening, as a hornet’s stinger impaled the moth’s leg, the tip barely poking out through the other side. The moth collapsed, but quickly pulled himself to his feet, staggering towards him as he raised a hand, those beautiful antennae glowing slightly, and launched several gleaming spears of ice towards the pursuing hornets and bee. Nii couldn’t help but let out a slight gasp as his own antennae faintly light up. He began rummaging around in his cloak, looking for something to see if he should or could help.
Before he could manage to pull out some components to arguably make matters worse, his hands were suddenly filled with a letter and the pleading, desperate eyes of the moth were staring up at him. He began rambling about the letter’s recipient, Cricket, and giving the rather contradictory instructions to both ask around and be quiet. Nii mulled all this over, but as he was about to give his response the moth collapsed, and suddenly he was aware of the eyes on him. One of the hornets, the one who’d thrown the spear, shouted at him, demanding that he better not be an accomplice.
Nii looked down at the crumpled parchment in his hands, looked back up, and managed to squeak out a quick “Nope!” before immediately darting down the alley he had come from. His cloak caught on some bins and yanked them down, scattering trash into the mouth of the alley as Nii ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. It didn’t matter where he went, he just didn’t want to be associated with a criminal. The only downside of not remembering the layout of the part of the city he was in was that he eventually wound up lost, stopping to gasp for air as a stabbing pain in his side flared up. He glanced behind him, checking to see if any hornets had followed.
That seemed to sum it up pretty well, really - although Fury supposed that it could be a matter of some debate just which fucking moron she was referring to. There were a number to choose from, after all. The specific instance that had brought the comment out, though, was the moth running down the alley with the letter.
In most cases, Fury would have been perfectly happy to stand aside and let him get what was coming to him, but this wasn't just any moth. This was...
She didn't know what the hell his name was. But he was a fucking moron. And there were a lot of people who owed that fucking moron their lives - and she might be one of them. He'd been there, after all, that day seven years ago that she wasn't fortunate enough to forget. She remembered him - younger then, still a fucking moron, but just barely Chrystened and tossing off some sort of spell that had stopped the Corrupted for at least a moment. Given everything that had been going on, every moment counted.
So maybe she owed him, a little. Fury wasn't some sort of altruist, or anything, but she didn't like owing people. That was why she stepped out from the alley - a halting step, really, supporting some of her weight on a stick. Her leg had never been quite right, after...
That didn't matter now.
She turned her utterly uncaring gaze to the hornets. "Sorry about him. He's a fucking moron. Not right in the head, though, after the..." She had expected to fake it, the hitch in the voice, the sudden trailing off. When she got there, though, she found she didn't need to fake it at all. "Fuck. Seven years. Fucking moron. I'll go after him. Probably good not to scare him off. He might do something stupid." Fury considered the situation again. "Stupider."
She moved forward with all the fucking confidence of someone who knows that no asshole hornet is going to stop her, because she's a fucking legend even if she's not in her goddamn Shell right now, even if her steps are uneven and twisted. Even if she was walking through a puddle of blood without a care in the world, because she'd seen worse, and blood was just one more thing that happened in this cesspit of a bug.
At least she wouldn't have any trouble finding him, given everything that he'd knocked over. "Hey! Moron! Slow your stupid self down!"
In a chaotic scene it’s ultimately all about the details, having your eyes in the right place and your ears listening at the right time. The hornets weren’t speaking loosely about anything useful, but in the wounded moth’s hand was something that caught her eye. A note? A small parcel? With how desperately he lunged for the moth in the fancy cloak it was something important. Which made it interesting.
And if it was interesting it was something worth hiding.
Louise released a breath as she focused her attention on the moth’s hand. There was a feeling of tension, like an unused muscle slowly stretching. The air around the moth’s hand wavered, a momentary shivering spot of heat that was gone almost as soon as it appeared. It wasn’t the most elegant mirage, it wouldn’t hold up to intense scrutiny from an equally careful eye, but no one was really paying careful attention.
“Looks like they have things well enough handled.” Her escort said as he returned to her side. The little slip of paper transferred from the hand of one moth to another, so she allowed her illusion to slip away.
“Ah, are we heading on then?” Louise said. Just a silly butterfly out of place. The hornet grunted as he motioned for her to follow, and in the corner of her eye Louise could see the cloth of the moth’s cloak vanish around the corner.
Something interesting alright.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
Evidently, the spell didn't hit its desired target. She didn't even seem to notice the volley of ice, just proving to him that his last moments were... useless. He handed the letter to the other moth- but, mere moments after the letter left his hand, it disappeared. Had he dropped it? Where on Hiveholm did it go!? He tried to call after the other moth, to tell him that he had forgotten probably the most important part of his dying wish, but he had already started to run... right back to where he came from. Great.
What that moth didn't know was that Nii was heading in almost exactly the right direction. Cricket, the letter's intended recipient, had been expecting to meet him a few blocks up, but had grown tired of waiting around for so long, and decided to wander a little further down his intended path of travel to see what was holding him. She heard the commotion, of course, so didn't stray too far from the shadows, but she was far closer than it may have seemed at first. In fact, she was standing around in the next alley over, pretending to be examining the infrastructure, should any stray hornet catch her loitering- a wise decision, given that they had all decided to make a beeline towards Nii.
The bee, however, did not show such enthusiasm. The mantid was talking to him- clearly this idiot had decided to die on their turf, and she wanted to take him inside. God, what a headache. What a headache this all was. Quinn glared at her as she spoke, scowling with such venom that one might think she was the true culprit behind all of this.
Then, with one graceful sweep, he swung his pole axe downwards and decapitated the moth in front of them.
Evelyn blanched, taking a step back and flinching as the blade of the polearm struck the pavement. The blood didn't bother her. She'd seen worse, even after that bloodbath of a Chrystening. Fireflies torn limb from limb by spinning gears, drunken butterflies plummeting headfirst from a five-story hotel balcony. The sudden hostility, though - the anger in the bee's eyes, the swiftness of which he turned his weapon on the fallen moth, and the lingering fear that a moment's misspeak might turn that weapon onto her -
You're far from innocent yourself, Evelyn.
- gave her a firm moment's hesitation.
"Of - of course, sir. I'll handle this."
Then, nodding decisively, she hurried into the still-open door of her clinic, returning soon after with bundled sheets and a pair of gloves. Slipping the gloves on, she threw the sheet over the corpse to hide it from the bystander's prying eyes - little help that did, they'd seen the whole thing - and wrapped the edges beneath the body and dangling head.
"Please go about your business, everyone, I have this handled," she called to no one in particular. Most of the people watching had already begun to disperse - the familiar moth (where had she seen his face, before?), hornet, and ant running off together, and the bee and his swarm of yellow jackets, their duties seemingly upheld, were on their way as well. The butterfly had lingered a moment longer, as had the hornet with her, so Evelyn did her best to place her body between them as she struggled, jittering, to lift the corpse.
Damn her tremors, and damn that she'd forgotten to bring the stretcher, but she wasn't going to look the fool in public. She was supposed to be the one responsible, here.
Light caught the blade of the pole arm as it flicked up and splintered across the sharpened edge as the weapon fell in a smooth arc. Louise felt her body stiffen, muscles bracing as her gaze became affixed to the blade. Down, down, down towards an unprotected neck. Her escort stepped forward, placing his body between Louise and the morbid business going on in the street. A small mercy, but it didn’t do much to mask the sound.
“We shouldn’t stick around. Eyes forward” The hornet said, taking hold of her upper arm and pulling her along.
“Ah, yes.” Louise breathed. She took a pair of tumbling steps after the man before she was able to catch up. Was there something in that letter worth dying for? Louise released a breath, and despite her best effort it still shook in her throat. For now, she just needed to move away, other things could be worried about later.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//