The whole situation felt unreal to the newly dubbed Strange Girl.

She didn’t fancy that designation, but anything was better than ‘Harpy’. She had never liked that role, but it had been a pivot to her survival for so long; it was her default state for any human interaction.

She was still reeling at how fast and… naturally that dotter had pulled her out of it.

Why do my plans always fail before they can start?

When the Enforcers had raided the arena, she had thought salvation had finally come. How naïve of her.

Their abrupt entrance had been the straw that broke the camel’s back in the tense stalemate between the old and the young ringleaders. She had jumped back in her cache and covered her ears until the noises had calmed down, and when she had glanced at the results, she had been glad for it.

Bodies everywhere, though notably few wore an Enforcer uniform. They had been spread in a hideous cone pointing to the opposite side of the arena, towards the gladiator’s cells. She had thought she was familiar with the sight and scent of death and blood, but the sheer scale had made her nauseous.

The sounds of fighting had continued from behind the door. It had struck her as strange, there shouldn’t have been that many wardens and mercenaries left, and the ringleader’s body was below her. Who was resisting the Enforcers?

It had taken another broken delusion to understand; when Enforcers had followed two gladiators who had burst out of the barrack’s door and shot them down.

Rescue or even capture had definitely not been in their minds. Confused and terrified, Strange Girl had cowered back and elected to run away on her own.

Once the executioners had left and the shootout had moved further, she had left her hideout and dropped to the ground, landing as softly as she could in a less bloody patch. It had happened to be close to the ringleader’s body, and a metallic reflection had caught her eye. She hadn’t noticed it from above, but there was a briefcase clutched in his hand.

On instinct, she had taken it with her. She had no idea how the Black Market was outside of the fighting pits and a few ballrooms – where she had been used as a trophy and bragging piece – but she knew that everything could be bought, for the right price. This case belonged to a ringleader, it was bound to have something valuable; she could try and buy her freedom if someone got in her way. She’d prefer to avoid confrontations if she could help it; it would waste time, and she wasn’t confident in winning an actual fight outside the arena.

As it had turned out, outside the pit was mostly rectangular corridors and staircases dug in stone with normally closed rooms, and the bribe hadn’t been necessary. No one had been left to bar her way, the only people who could move had also been mid egress. There had been quite a few, even those without fighting or stealth improvements. She had fleetingly considered she could have been wrong about the Enforcers, but she hadn’t dared to stop and verify, and neither had the others. They had all scampered in different directions, and she had not been an exception. In the Black Market, trust was luxury; they would be better off on their own.

She had run until the outskirt of that section and beyond. The liminal area was a strange place; no rooms, the tunnels and staircases were tighter, rougher, less angular and more tilting until they nearly didn’t seem man-made. It was a maze of hallways and twisting turns, dimly lit by luminescent minerals naturally present in the rock. The perfect place to lose and confuse pursuers. Despite her terror, some part of her had noticed it was probably on purpose, a defence against invaders.

At first, she had rushed as far away as she could without thinking, until she couldn’t catch any sound but the echo of her own panting and her steps. With no idea of where she was or where to go, she had set to simply make her path as hard to follow as she could, jogging randomly left and right, up and down.

When she had been too tired to run, she had slowed to a pace, and even allowed herself small breaks to catch her breath. She wasn’t a stranger to strenuous activities, but it had never been so extended.

When her heart had stopped beating in her ears, she had heard the sound of running water. Too tired to care and without any better option, she had followed it until an underground canal. It hadn’t been any more natural than the tunnels, an abandoned path between sections maybe? The girl didn’t know or care. It had been a boon, in more ways than one, period.

The water had smelled and tasted clean, so she had risked it, drinking her fill and washing as best she could to remove the caked blood and the sweat. She had also cleaned the case, the dried ichor on it was sure to leave a traceable whiff. Or worse, a recognisable one.

She had considered it might be bugged, but she had dismissed the notion. Ringleaders were known for their paranoia, they had to be to stay ringleaders, and even if he had left a way to track himself or his property, his men would be too busy until he was replaced, which would take a while.

Once refreshed and rested, she had dived the artificial river, grabbing the case handle in a talon and staying underwater as long and as often as she could. Her wings had been surprisingly effective at navigating the current, allowing her to easily reach the other side. After that, the first opening in the wall had led her to another artificial maze of weakly lit tunnels where she had lost herself again. No running this time, a brisk stroll would have to do; she shouldn’t have been trackable anymore, but she hadn’t known how long she would have to keep going.

With the tension of possible pursuers gone and no obstacles besides her own body, her mind had drifted, and the cold her wet skin was finally registering wasn’t helping. To avoid thinking back to the nightmare she had left, she had focused on what do next.

She had no hint of where she was headed, and no connections anywhere. Not a good start. What did she have? Herself. Her body, her skills, and a briefcase with unknown but probably valuable content. The tunnels likely led to the First Circle, that was where she was taken. She didn’t have much information about it, but that was something. What did she need? That question had briefly given her pause. What did she need? To stay away from the Black Market, that was obvious, but would that be enough?

She had renewed her hike. Too tired to make an effort for discretion, she had let her talons echo in the tunnels, making it sound less empty than it actually was, but still uncannily so.

How to avoid the Black Market? They had people everywhere. She had been captured because she had trusted the wrong people. She wouldn’t do that mistake again. Even without collar, her neck itched at the thought. Centring herself, she had kept going. Leaving the Shelter wasn’t an option, none of her mutations would help against such an environment. She wasn’t even sure why she had bothered considering it.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

No, she would have to stay inside, find a safe place. An abandoned place without anyone around. How would she eat? Her skills. She was fast and had unusual movement options, maybe she could steal something. Perhaps even get away with it. It wouldn’t be the worst thing she’d done anymore. Maybe the briefcase would let her buy someone’s loyalty, at least for a while? She would have to leave them before they could turn against her, but it could be an adequate stepping stone.

So… Find an abandoned place, find a way to get food, don’t be seen by anyone. A bleak plan full of holes, but a plan nonetheless. Flexible enough to improvise, her specialty.

She had kept walking, her mind drifting on and off again, but she had something better to go back to after that. She wasn’t even sure she had gone far from the canal. The twisting tunnels could make her go in circle and she would never notice. The water had dried by then, but it had quickly been replaced by sweat. She was dirty and thirsty again, with a thick layer of hunger and exhaustion on top of it. Despite herself, she had been thinking about how far from her original plan life had turned out when she had found something new: a blinking red light at the end of a secondary corridor.

It was lighting up a heavy airlock door with a large wheel in the middle. She wouldn’t have noticed it without the LED, a flare in the near darkness she had traversed for so long. Hope had energised her anew, not only had it been a sign of civilisation, airlocks were something the Black Market didn’t use.

She had still been careful in her approach, making her steps and breath as slow and silent as she could. She had still flinched every time her claws had clacked against the ground; talons weren’t made for stealth. She had kept an eye out for any suspicious movement or sound; with no idea of what to expect on either side of the door.

No outside security had showed up, but no automatic lock either. The wheel was the only mechanism, and it hadn’t been made for talons, but bracing herself against the narrow walls had let her use it. With a lot of effort, time and noise, she had eventually reached the other side. The door had been easier to close from there; the springs in the mechanism helping her this time. She had to do it all again for the other side of the airlock, but she had eventually been through. Out of breath, sweaty and more exhausted than ever, but there, at least. Strangely, there hadn’t been anyone around to be alerted by the noise, but she hadn’t been about to complain.

She had left the platform she had found herself on, followed the catwalk along the humongous water cistern it was framing, and ignored how disturbing the new echoes and ambient sounds were after only hearing her own steps for so long, until she had reached a door to the water distribution hub. She hadn’t been able to make head or tails of the maps on the walls, so she had settled on following the biggest pipe, then going for smaller and smaller ones, avoiding the most active areas, until she had found a small exit. She had thought it would lead her to an isolated but still functional place behind bustling areas.

In hindsight, the lack of people and abundance of machines on the way should have told her she wasn’t in the Circles. Not that she could blame herself, with her experiences.

She hadn’t kept track of time in the pipes either, but she had finally reached an opening, with an open grate to boot. Only one problem: someone on the way. She couldn’t see much with the backlight from outside, but he hadn’t seemed to be there for her, he was working something on the ceiling.

She had been watching and waiting for his departure when exhaustion had made her slip and fall in the tickle of water at her feet, revealing her presence. She had reflexively fallen back on her Harpy character, using it to push intimidation and pretend she had been in control of the situation. It had worked great at first, the guy had been worried, afraid and he had hardly hidden it. Then everything had derailed. His reaction had thrown her off; there had been none of the normal posturing, cowering, threats or begging she usually encountered. She must have been even more on the brink than she thought, because it had been enough to pull her out of her role.

She was confident she could run away in the pipe network in case of trouble, so against her own judgement and her promise to herself, she had risked asking for help. In hindsight, that option of running away was probably why he had had such an unusual reaction, she and those she used her character against rarely had such freedom.

She hadn’t been sure how to feel when his friend had revealed herself. She should have been worried, but seeing that girl hugging that trunk… And then seeing them interact… And who promises to help to then openly ask “please don’t hurt us?”?... and that handshake…

She didn’t know what to think of that development or those people. She could have left right then and there, but she hadn’t.

They hadn’t asked anything about where she came from either, or what had happened, or who she was besides her name. It wasn’t fear, lack of curiosity or rejection, it was respect for her, her boundaries.

In the Black Market, trust is luxury.

That’s when it truly dawned on her. Those two trusted each other, and her too to some extent. She wasn’t in the Black Market anymore.

She truly was in the dot.

She was out.

Only her long experience had let her rein in her sobs.

Before she had realised it, she was asking Zax and Aran to go in their home.

Their destination set, they found a way to hide her on the way, at her unreasonable request. It ended up being the easy part for them; Zax shaped the nano-technology he had on him in a thin but opaque sheet. Strange Girl didn’t even know it was possible, but he proved himself an expert on the subject. The cover was more than large enough to wrap her up, but too flimsy, breaking at the slightest tug. A tirade from this expert told her it was only two nanites thick because he didn’t have enough material on his person, and he usually caried a lot more in unusual ways.

Is it that rare for them, to have clothes not made of nanites?

Despite her bewilderment, she found herself amused at his antics; her thoughts echoed in Aran’s smile. After some trial and error, Strange Girl ended up crouched and her arms warped around her body. The result of a fetal position with winged arms made her look like a messy heap of feathers with a head, and nubs for feet when her talons were folded. Now smaller, she could be wrapped in a thicker blanket, still thinner than most fabrics but sturdy enough for transport. She could easily tear it up, and as a bonus it freed enough nanites to disguise her briefcase separately. She had to let it go to be compact enough, but she didn’t mind that much. Its content was still a mystery, she wouldn’t miss it, but they hadn’t asked. When they were done, she couldn’t see a thing, but nothing of her was recognisable or visible and she could breathe without issue.

The two friends had also taken many pictures set on private with their bracelets, so the Main Computer and only it would know there was nothing nefarious or illegal with this suspicious load. She had been nervous about it at first, but they had asked and explained. The familiarity was comforting, and they wouldn’t be stopped and searched while Zax carried her home. He would take a direct route while Aran would take the briefcase on a detour. They somehow got her on ground level in the park, and they were on the way.

The darkness and squeezing were not an issue for her, but not seeing where she was taken was wracking her nerves. Zax tried to be comfortable and reassuring, but her insecurities were haunting her back. It belatedly dawned on her that she was utterly at someone’s mercy, and it was too late to do anything about it.

She tried to force her panic down by focusing on what she had seen of them, how different they were from the evil she knew, how the dot didn’t have abandoned places, and most of all, that it was a decision she had made in full knowledge, of her own free will.

The distractions had helped, but only so much; her nerves were rising at every step, every second. Her breath was heavy and barely holding her shivers together when she felt something press against her back. It was too much and she snapped.

She opened her wings and legs, tearing her warping and looking frantically around, memorising the layout, ready to pounce on the first opponent.

She was in… a spacious but ordinary living space. A cooking counter, three doors including an obvious exit. Well lit, no guard, no weapon.

The only movement came from Zax, rising from where he sat on the ground. Her jump must’ve made him fall. He removed imaginary dust from his clothes and stated with a smile:

“Welcome to my humble abode.”