The slums were always awake. Even in the dead of night, when the sky was a dim and hazy bruise overhead, lights flickered in the cracks of broken walls and in the makeshift hovels lining the alleys. There was a pulse here, the sound of survival. Not everyone was hunting for scraps, but they were all searching. Food, work, safety... sometimes, it was as simple as looking for a place to call home.
Even in the darkness, there were colors—sprays of graffiti that marked territory, some recent, others fading away with the memories of what they used to mean. Above, the wires that crisscrossed the skyline buzzed and hummed, bringing what little power trickled down to the ground, offering a semblance of technology for those willing to steal it.
Every corner hid a story, a struggle, or a sin. Yet, even in this chaos, there was an order. It was an order only the inhabitants understood—the children of the streets, the hustlers, and the ones who had known no other life. To the outsiders—the suits from the Metropolis or the occasional do-gooder visitors—this world seemed like a dissonant, dirty symphony.
But to Fii, to those like Quinn, Joe, Sheri, and even Kasumi, it was harmony, no matter how dissonant it seemed.
Atop one of the many condemned skyscrapers of the slums, Fii stood, her long white hair rippling in the wind like a flame caught in a storm, likely caused by the jets of some passerby HighRise's shuttle overhead. Her usually bright blue eyes now watched the scene below with a peculiar sharpness, piercing through the layers of darkness and shadow that pooled in the narrow crevices between the buildings.
The old hoodie she wore blended into the night like a shadow, torn and tattered but comfortable, its edges fraying, yet not nearly enough to be unwearable. She'd gotten too attached to it to let go. She sometimes thought maybe it was a bit too big for her frame, but she liked it like that.
Underneath, she had her more form-fitting bodysuit that covered her from the neck down. Her combat gloves were already on, and so were her signature rollerblades, ready for what she had planned tonight.
During the last couple of weeks, she'd been enjoying the small breaks she had, like actually getting some sleep, going on a date with Quinn, watching videos on the 'Net, or reading a book. Of course, being with Quinn was the best part of it all.
Tonight, however, she was determined to stay up. The other night had been... weird. Not to mention the unease she felt at having missed two nights of patrol.
With a quiet exhale, she launched herself off the ledge, wind pulling at her hair as she sailed through the air.
Her power sparked within her. The force of gravity, which would ordinarily pull her downwards, seemed to hesitate before bending to her will. She commanded it, twisted it, molded it to her purposes. Instead of plunging toward the cracked, worn pavement below, she redirected her descent.
The effect was immediate, and it made her grin. She rocketed parallel to the street, swiftly transitioning from free-falling to speeding above the rooftops of the slums. Then, she shot upward into the sky.
Fii always dreamed of flying, and her superpower let her do just that, in her own way. As the cool night air rushed past her face, the moon shone above, almost full and seemingly close enough to touch. But it wasn't close, of course. No more than she could reach out and grab the stars. But still, the illusion was there. A lie, perhaps, but a pretty one.
The rooftops of the slums spread out beneath her, a landscape all its own. Many of these buildings had lived out their glory days, their broken windows and crumbling facades testifying to a history that most in the Metropolis would rather forget.
Fii shot forward, letting her body orient itself parallel to the rooftops that sprawled out beneath her. The lines of building tops looked like cracks on old skin.
This wasn't flying in the sense of defying gravity—it was more about manipulating it, which in her book was even better. She couldn't simply ignore gravity; the potential energy had to go somewhere.
No, what she could do was to alter its direction, render it harmless by aligning it with her movements. That was the beauty of it—she could change the way gravity interacted with her, reshaping its force to suit her needs. It was an intricate dance of control and release, one that blurred the boundary between falling and gliding, all while being meticulously aware of the consequences of a single misstep.
If her power wasn't aligned correctly, or if she miscalculated, that harmless vector could very quickly turn into a catapult or a deadly fall.
Still, there was always an intrinsic risk to using her power. Manipulating gravity so she could glide smoothly required her to sustain the gravitational energy involved. It made her body feel heavier, sluggish. To an observer, it might look like she was casually flying, but inside, her very cells were grappling with the strain—an unseen cost to the freedom she was enjoying. A power that both liberated and tethered her.
There was another facet to her ability—a more violent and direct application, not as subtle as the gliding she was currently doing. If she wasn't careful, if her focus wavered or her intent was unclear, the power she harnessed could, quite literally, crush anything nearby. Imagine invisible hands crushing a soda can—that's what she could do, but on a larger scale and with far messier consequences.
Prime had been the ultimate example of that.
Yet, there were more... mysterious parts to her power. Ones she was still discovering, piecing together through instinct and accident.
Like the bizarre sensation that overcame her sometimes, a sixth sense that was hard to describe or understand. It wasn't a typical sense, not taste, smell, hearing, touch, or sight. No, it was more of a strange and ephemeral connection to the space around her.
She could "feel" the tug of every object, aware of every molecule's presence and motion—a phantom touch that brushed against her consciousness without warning. One moment, nothing; the next, it would flare up, overwhelming her senses.
These moments were rare and hard to predict, almost as though her power had a will of its own. It wasn't a constant companion but a fleeting visitor—unless she really concentrated, then sometimes she could trigger it.
Pushing those thoughts aside, she launched herself skyward again. Each time she reached the zenith of her arc, she'd redirect the pull of gravity, hurling herself forward. Each flick of her wrist, each subtle shift of her weight adjusted the invisible tendrils of gravity that she commanded, sending her arching high above the slums' rooftop landscape.
From this vantage, she could see the sprawling patchwork of forgotten buildings and the intricate dance of neon lights marking various pockets of life below.
Her destination lay ahead, The Wires. A cluster of old skyscrapers straddling the edge of the sector—one of the many spots where cargo funneled in and out of the slums. Ziplines hung between these towering sentinels of steel and concrete, an aerial highway for those nimble and brave enough to navigate.
They crisscrossed the skyline, thick cables running from building to building, forming a web that spread far and wide across the slums. Platforms dotted the heights, connecting the wire lines, creating nodes of activity high above the ground.
Not just anyone could use them. Only the quickest, most adept, and fearless made use of this network—the Zippers. They rode these wires, using harnesses and specialized mechanical devices that allowed them to shoot across, to and from different locations. Not only that, they also sped along the lines on cable-carts, transferring goods and information or even transporting the occasional person. If something needed to move from one side of the slums to the other quickly, it went through The Wires.
They were a lifeline, not just for the Zippers, but for the whole community.
As Fii approached an elevated platform, her grin softened. Leaning into her power, she skewed the gravity around her. In response, her descent eased into a graceful arc. Her rollerblades grazed the floor for just a moment before she allowed herself to land softly, her impact barely registering on the platform's surface.
Ahead, she spotted the trio of Zippers preparing for their evening run—Luxy, Mica, and Taro. The three of them were huddled around a rusted spool of cable, their fingers working in perfect tandem as they adjusted and tested their equipment.
Fii recognized the slight tilt of Mica's head, the way his eyes darted quickly to check the tension in the line before he gave it a satisfied tug. Luxy, his sister, was right beside him, her blonde hair tied into a ponytail that trailed down her back. She was testing the hooks of her harness, while Taro, the oldest of the trio with his shaved head and laid-back demeanor, tinkered with the metal winches.
She approached quietly, her rollerblades clacking softly against the uneven surface beneath her.
Mica glanced up first, his brown hair falling over his eyes. "Hey," he greeted her, his tone relaxed, almost lazy. "Fancy seeing you here." The words had barely left his lips when Fii extended an arm and let her power ripple outwards, inverting the local gravity slightly.
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An errant nut and bolt sitting atop the equipment beside Mica found themselves ensnared by her influence, rising from their metallic perch to gently spin in the air.
Mica's eyes widened at the sight, and his mouth tugged upwards in a smirk. "Nice. Always like when you come 'round for a visit. You're our good luck charm," he said, reaching out and plucking the floating hardware from the air before tossing them back onto the platform.
Meanwhile, Luxy glanced up, her gray-brown eyes looking at Fii first, then towards the spinning nut and bolt with an air of interest, before turning her attention back to her harness. "We missed ya. No one to tease around here without you. 's been kinda quiet lately. A bit too peaceful."
"Next time, bring Quinn," Taro chimed in, a smile hidden in his stubbled cheek. "He always overthinks everything. Good for some laughs."
Fii felt her smile deepen. "That's nice, you only want me around to make fun of my boyfriend." She pushed the words out through a smile. "And so you know, I'm not gonna bring him just so you all can taunt him. I'm not that cruel."
"He brings it on himself," Luxy teased.
"Maybe a little bit," Fii chuckled, conceding with a slight roll of her eyes. The wind played gently with her hair, a few strands crossing her vision as the trio turned their attention back to the gear, only a few last-minute checks left.
"You joining us?" Mica asked, not missing a beat and offering a tilt of his head to acknowledge Fii's inclusion.
In response, Fii shrugged, trying to play coy. "Might. Feelin' a bit restless and bored lately."
Luxy looked up again, her expression relaxing into a welcoming grin. "Works for me. It's been a while since we've had the chance to chill. Tin talk's scarce these days. We could use some fresh intel." That drew a little laugh out of Mica, who nodded, not arguing the point at all.
Fii let out a half-hearted groan, placing a hand on her forehead in mock despair. "And here I was, thinking you wanted my company, not just what I know. Anyways, what's the word? Business as usual?"
"Pretty much. We've got an airship barge docking soon—nothing out of the ordinary. Should be a smooth night." Luxy stretched out, her movements supple and cat-like, the telltale sign of pre-run jitters easing through her limbs. With one fluid motion, she flipped her hair back, not so subtly showing off. Classic Luxy.
Luxy shot Fii a wink. "That is unless you plan on spicing things up, superhero."
Rolling her eyes and pulling down her hood, Fii flipped her longer white locks right in front of Luxy's face, mirroring the gesture with a mischievous smile. "Relax, will you? I'm not here to rain on your parade. Think of this as a friendly, casual visit, okay?"
A laugh escaped Luxy. "Fine, fine. You do you. Just don't slow us down, ya hear?"
With all the cockiness she could muster, Fii planted a hand on her hip, shifting her weight to one side. "Slow you down? You're kidding, right? In your dreams."
"All sizzle, no steak." Mica piped up. His hands were now busy coiling and securing the line.
"Watch it!" Fii's grin widened. "If you keep yapping, I might just flip your gravity, and then we'll see who's talking." It was an empty threat, delivered in jest, and the smug grin on Mica's face confirmed that he, too, was simply playing along.
Luxy extended her legs and leaned her back against the wall, easing into a forward fold, her palms settling on the metal platform, touching her toes. A habit she had whenever it was almost time for them to get started. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you could flip all of us over. But we still need to be on the same page, got it?"
"Yeah, I got it! Zipped those lips!"
Together, they finished setting up, Fii lending a hand as they adjusted the lines and secured gear for the upcoming shipment. She worked alongside them, her hands becoming familiar with the routines and rhythm, though her eyes couldn't help but scan the skies for the telltale sign of the airship's arrival.
As they worked, the conversation drifted naturally toward the Wires and their role in keeping the slums running.
"People think it's all about speed," Luxy said as she hiked herself up on the zip-line, "but really, it's much more than that. It's about understanding the flow. Knowing which lines are secure, which are frayed, which ones have been tampered with. Every night, it's different."
Taro gave a grunt of agreement. "Especially these days," he chimed in. "Too many gangs think they can hijack our deliveries. You have to stay one step ahead, always."
Mica, in his characteristically quiet manner, nodded. "At least with you around, most of 'em back off. Too much hassle to deal with the 'slum's guardian angel,' right?"
"Oh, stop it," Fii brushed off the comment, her cheeks warming slightly. "I just keep an eye out, that's all."
Yet, she couldn't deny the hint of pride swelling within her. Being recognized by those she had come to respect was... flattering.
Without fanfare or the peeling honk in the distance to announce its arrival, the airship materialized over the nearby skyscraper. Slowly, surely, the barge lumbered into view, an old model that had seen better days, its hull scraped and worn. Two sets of vertical propellers at the stern were its primary source of propulsion.
If she'd heard right, they were models from the early years of airship use in the Metropolis, now well past their prime but still put to good use. They were loud and didn't let you know when they were going to give in, and break down. Even from a distance, their hum was like an old friend's grumble—familiar, comfortable, and maybe a bit grumpy.
"Right on time," Luxy muttered, her eyes following the ship's approach. "Looks like they're prepping the drop-off."
A square-shaped aperture on the side of the craft opened, revealing a man dressed in all green. A high-vis vest rested over his attire, and a matching cap sat atop his head. Standard airship crew clothing.
"That's our signal!" Taro chimed in, flicking a small switch on the remote control he had. "The drop is approaching. I'll keep an eye from above, guide the lines as you go."
Fii adjusted her hood, pulling it securely over her head and moving into position alongside the other Zippers. Each of them connected to the line using their specialized pulleys, bracing for the impending descent.
With a resounding clunk from within the airship, a container, white and boxy, descended on a large pulley. Ropes hugging its sides ensured it swayed minimally in the breeze.
From there, the procedure was simple: they'd wait for it to be deposited at one of the dismount locations, disconnect the cables holding the container to the crane, and then ride The Wires, dragging the shipment along with them from within a cable-cart until they reached the drop-off point in the slums.
And then they'd do it again and again until the night's shipment was complete. Always moving, always something new.
After the large container finished lowering, the Zippers—Mica, Luxy, and Taro—pulled the container closer to the platform. The heavy cable and crank system were easy for them to work, even without Fii's help.
As they unloaded the cargo, Fii silently guided the crates onto the platform with her abilities, manipulating the containers gently and precisely. Her control over gravity made tasks that would have otherwise been cumbersome and time-consuming surprisingly effortless.
She carefully lowered each crate to its designated spot, her hands weaving invisible threads of power to guide their descent. As she worked, the trio of Zippers looked on, their expressions a mix of appreciation and mild jealousy.
"Show-off," Luxy muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she watched the next box floating softly into place. But her tone belied her grin, revealing her words held no genuine bite. It was hard to be frustrated at increased efficiency.
It didn't take long to unload the full container, all three Zippers and Fii working quickly. As soon as they finished, the airship's hooks reattached to the now-empty container, and it was quickly lifted into the sky once more, back into the waiting clutches of the airship to be retrieved.
After the cargo doors sealed shut, the ship slowly inched forward, the low hum of its engines powering up for the return journey home.
"Aight," Mica said, making the 'ok' gesture with his hand and scanning the array of containers sprawled out before them. "Next order of business: getting this down."
Luxy squinted at a spreadsheet clipped to one of the crates. "We've got a few other locations, so we've gotta split these up." She pointed to a set of crates, all of them branded with their distinctive stamp.
"These barges," Taro began, gently rapping his knuckles against one of the larger crates, "they're a godsend, honestly. Not everything that gets dropped off is useful, but it's better than nothing. Plus, we get to skim a little off the top before it hits the streets."
Fii chuckled. "Skimming, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?"
"Hey, they can spare it," Mica defended, a lopsided smirk on his face. "Gotta make sure we're covered for the trouble, right?"
Luxy butted in. "Yeah, hazard pay and all. Life on The Wires isn't exactly risk-free, you know? But Taro's right. These ships come in from all over. Metropolis traders mostly, but a lot of them are freelancers, looking to make a quick buck off the books. They stop by here on their way back to the city, drop off goods they couldn't sell at full price. Some of it's donations from the Metropolis support groups, but most of it's just leftovers."
"This stuff's gonna go a long way," Taro added, securing another crate. "We've had folks in the lower districts waitin' weeks for some of this tech. Not to mention the food—half the slum's on Synthies right now."
"Has it been that bad?" Fii asked. "I mean, the food situation, specifically?"
"The farms?" Luxy answered for him, nodding. "Oh, yeah. Way worse than usual. We've had plenty of rain this season but just not enough sun. Crop yields are through the floor right now. Everything that isn't dried out is being hiked up, price-wise. Let me tell ya, the last good meal I had was three weeks ago at a run-down noodle shack."
Taro had his arms crossed, as he grunted, "Imagine the horror: not eating good food for so long."
She flipped him a rude gesture. He chuckled in response.
"Same here. The Slum runs on leftovers. That's nothing new. But even then, meals are sparse if you've got no connections. Fresh fruit? Forget it." Mica's face had a half-grimace on it. "Last time I had a fruit was... can't remember when. Yesterday, all I had was a bowl of noodle broth, watered-down, at that."
Fii bit her lip, staring down at the containers. This was terrible. Food scarcity was something that had always existed in the slums, but she hadn't realized it was this bad.
"It's fine. Just shows how good we had it while scavenging." Taro reached over to clap a reassuring hand on Fii's shoulder, surprising her. He never usually did that. "Relax, superhero, not like there's much you can do about it. Plus, we've been worse off."
Fii gave a nod. "Right, yeah."
Together, they started loading up the first of many cable-carts with cargo. The cart was an invention of theirs, a metal cage connected to the zip-line, allowing them to ride the wire safely and quickly. It was equipped with a metal pulley and gears system that they all activated whenever it was time to launch, hooking onto a zip-line.
As they filled the first cart, Taro tilted his head and asked, "Who's riding the line to the warehouse?"
"Rock-paper-scissors?" Mica suggested, glancing around at the group.
They agreed and played the game quickly. In the end, Taro threw rock, and Luxy paper, earning her the spot. She grinned, high-fiving Mica in triumph. "Let's go then, ground-pounders," she said, the sound of her pulley's humming the only sign it was moving to the zip-line, latching on tight. "Load me up!"