The moment I stepped outside, I was greeted by a blast of air and the dull prickling of distant neon light. It was the only place my meager savings and severance package could afford: A single bed and bath on floor fifty-seven of Residential HX. A few floors down was a lobby-ish area, closed off from the outside air. While it did have an elevator, it was almost always packed to the brim. A shiver ran up my spine, and not from the cold; the single time I took that elevator I was sandwiched between the smell of body odor and machine oil. It was like being packed into a tin of sardines — not something I’d want to go through again.

A howling wind picked up, tearing past the clouds below, causing the hood of the jacket I wore to writhe about. I pulled it over my head. I would’ve worn sweats or something, but they were all just a bit nasty and dirty. The only thing that wasn’t as bad was an old pair of shorts I had, but I didn’t mind. They were more comfortable anyway.

I always felt on edge before a jump. I mean, it could land me in a lot of trouble if I were caught! It’d cost less to buy a new identity and life at that point, rather than pay the fees for unauthorized magic use. Then again, I’d only have to worry about that if I were caught. Being caught meant I wasn’t being careful. So even if people hardly looked to the sky anymore, unless there was an active subjugation or something, and even if my figure would’ve been veiled by a halo of neon lights, I didn’t want to compromise my anonymity. That, and the fact that I’d almost choked on a bug on my first jump, was why I also wore a facemask.

In one moment, my hands gripped the edge of my door, a vise, as if my fingers were welded to the handle. My leg bounced in place, and I could feel beads of sweat pooling on my brow, my temple, dripping down to my nose, before being kidnapped by the breeze. But it wasn’t just because I was anxious. This thrill – teetering on the edge of ground and sky – it never dulled. Not even after years.

In another, I jumped.

I dove off the building, feeling gusts of air whip against my body, my face, lashing through the layers I wore straight to my skin. It was like plunging head first into a tornado. The sheer force of it all threatened to rip off my jacket, and almost immediately undid my mask. I had to wrench for control, fighting the fall, just to stop it from flying off. The wind surged into my ears, violent and without remorse. I couldn’t hear my own thoughts, let alone my breaths or my heartbeat!

Eventually my mind cleared, and I gained some semblance of control. I took a glance around. The city sky at night bustled with enormous billboards and screens, glimmering holographic models and posts, and illuminating, blinding signs displaying a smorgasbord of goods. I even saw a few of Lumina and some other magical girls advertising for competing large-scale makeup brands in the distance.

It was fairly clear, too. Clear nights like these weren’t too uncommon; It’d just meant that I couldn’t rely on the clouds alone to hide me. I made a gesture with my hand and felt my fall slow, braking to a casual descent. Wisps of vapor slithered around my lower torso, the zephyrs knitting together, climbing up towards my chest, enveloping my head, until something like a light-gray fog devoured me completely. I could still see from the inside — a convenience from my ability. Anyone looking from outside would only see a hazy cloud. An oddly shaped one, but still a cloud. Hopefully.

There was a building, down below, that I’d been using as a landing point. I slowly touched down to the concrete, letting my disguise disperse back into nothing. My hands made their way into my pockets as I unwinded a bit. The building was under renovation on the ground floor, so when construction went away, it was practically always empty. Construction was done in bulk by androids anyway. People did have to manage them, but it was only like, one or two for a unit; I had no risk of getting caught.

I made my way to the rooftop door, carelessly flinging it ajar. I’d managed to pry it open a few months ago — though it wasn’t so much as “prying open” as it was “ripping apart the lock with wind until it fell off.” I crept down the stairs, my footsteps quietly bouncing off the walls, making my way past a couple corridors, dimly lit by fuzzy jade lights, until I reached the bottom floor. From there I had to duck behind inactive androids, creeping in the blindspots of revolving cameras, hiding under some leaning Carbo-Pallets, before I left through one of the doors that, conveniently, the workers never locked. Talk about horrible security practices.

The street view was much worse than the sky view. For me, anyway. People came here and admired both the size of the buildings and the art of their build. Some had spires of oscillating walls that clawed towards the sky, like fingers outreached towards heaven. Others undulated and pulsed as if they were alive themselves, and in their windows, you could barely see the silhouettes of people shifting, moving, working. A statue shifted before my eyes from a horse to an eagle. Now those were interesting; A few of the pricier hotels commissioned for architecture that reshaped itself every other hour. I remember one day, someone hacked into the subsystem for Nue Opus Magnifique and morphed it into a giant dick, towering right in the middle of the lobby. The look on the exec’s faces – I’d never forget it for the rest of my life!

Even so, it all felt like too much. I stood still in a street of rippling passersby, tilting my head to the sky. Can’t say I’d ever liked this view. It was strange; I could open my window and touch the skies. I left my home by plummeting through the clouds! And yet, the towers and skyscrapers felt like mountains I’d never summit. It made me feel just a bit uneasy.

Someone bumped into my shoulder, and I felt their hand swipe at my pockets. Bastard – like hell I’d let someone swipe my wallet! I whipped my head their way, but they’d already disappeared into the crowd. I scowled; I was getting distracted. If I didn’t keep moving, I might end up losing more than just cig money.

The streets were a nightmare to maneuver, and not only because of the layout. It was packed, absolutely packed, with people; People in their miniature vendor-carts, selling fake medication, local snacks, handmade crafts, the like; People sauntering through the sidewalk, speaking with a dictionary’s worth of street jargon, elbows clashing on arms abrasively; People spilling over from the closed shutter-gates of long rundown stores and shops, their eyes shut tight. And when they weren’t closed, they were glazed over, as if they were watching something a million miles away.

Something metallic rattled to my left. A garbage can clambering with noise and grunts; probably someone, or someones, digging for food. I’ve heard people from Twisting Birch call them ‘Animals,’ since apparently animals used to dig through trash decades ago. It’d been years since I last saw one — and no, Eclipshura didn’t count.

Eventually the shadows cast by the citylight gave way to those cast by streetlights. While there were still a few buildings, on the horizon, that rose almost as high as my own, they were scattered about. It wasn’t really smart to have that many people in one area. Here, the streets were emptier, quieter, darker. As I passed by a vending machine, I saw an ad flash up on the credit panel: God, it was her again. That Lumina Starlight. She held a can in her hand colored a pink so saturated it hurt just to glance at it. I scowled, jerked my head away, and turned a corner into one of the more dimmer streets. And from there I saw who I was looking for – but she saw me first.

“It’s my lucky day,” Chirped a rasping, but high-pitched, voice. Its owner sat against a barrel between two buildings off the sidewalk, directly across from a garbage bin, enthusiastically gesturing for me to come closer. A tattered hood veiled most of her face, but I could still see loose strands of black brush against her bare shoulder. “An angel’s come to grace me again!”

“I’ve told you to stop calling me that. I’m not an angel.” I sighed. “It’s a horrible pun, anyways.”

“Don’t be like that! Angelica’s a wonderful name. Much more than Gianna, in any case.” Gianna laughed. I didn’t know how it could sound both hoarse and airy. Rather than sounding strained because she wasn’t one to do so, it sounded strained because she did it too much. I almost felt compelled to join.

I made my way towards her, stepping into the alley, leaning against a wall with chipping paint and faded graffiti. It was hard to tell what it was. Or rather, what it once was. “How’ve things been down here, G?”

“Oh, they’ve been the same as always.”

“The worst?”

“The worst.” Affirmed Gianna. “People’ve been flooding in non stop these days. Nevermind having food to feed ‘em, we don’t even have the space! It’s like I blink and they appear outta nowhere.” She shook her head. “Few of us’ve agreed to share tents and all, but we can’t be forcin’other people to follow. ‘Fraid Marcus’ll hafta start turnin’ people away at this rate.”

A somber touch seeped into her voice. Gianna turned away, facing the streetlight, but I could still see a scowl start to creep across her face. She tucked in a bobbing leg closer to her chest, relaxing the crook of her elbow on it, before reaching into her jacket and taking out a pack of cigarettes. “Got a lighter?”

“‘Course.” I crouched down. Gianna’d already had the cigarette between her puckered lips, angled up to me. One of her large eyes, green like the stem of an orchid, peeked from a half-curtain of oily onyx hairs; the other was hidden behind them. She had blemishes of dirt caking her pale skin and her cheeks were a purgatory between sunken and not. Even so, it hardly concealed that baby face she had. I’d always thought she looked too young to be smoking. “How many times’ve I told you to quit this?”

“Too many. Now light me, or I won’t give you one.”

I obliged. Her eyes closed, taking a deep inhale, savoring the crisp exhale. The rise and fall of her chest slowed, relaxing, and her leg stopped bouncing uncontrollably. Eyes still shut, she held out the pack to me, and I took one for myself. Smoking was like alcohol. It was nice to enjoy it alone, but sharing it with people – especially in this silence, basking in the shadow of a building, listening to the electric buzzing all around – had its own charm.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“So how’s everything been?”

“You just asked me that.”

“No. I mean, for you.” I crossed my arms, holding my cigarette between two fingers. “Have you been doing alright?”

Her brows inched the most infinitesimal amount closer. She sighed, but it quickly turned into a sort of jesting smile. “Angelica, some advice. Whenever you start lookin’ for a partner, don’t look here. This city is the shits!” She picked something off her shirt and flicked it to the ground. “Some of my clients know jack about foreplay. Into the weirdest shit, too.”

“Like?”

“Like this.” She shimmied off her jacket, exposing her thin arm. Parts of her upper arm were covered in… Good God. Were those cuts?

“Gianna, what–”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” She said nonchalantly. “The sex hurt, and the pain was the worst, but the pay made it all worth.”

I glowered. Something knotted up in my chest. “You can’t let people do that to you! I mean, what the hell, G?”

Gianna shrugged. “Food’s running low at camp, and I’ve gotta get some more somehow. You’d be surprised how many pay for this sorta thing. Turns out fucking’s the only thing people’re still better at than androids, and I’m the best at it!”

“Even so…” My eyes were still transfixed on those cuts. Most of them were a darker red, but some still glazed with a shimmering crimson – they’d barely even started closing.

Gianna tilted her head slightly, so that her face was also in my line of sight. She smirked at me. “What? You like ‘em?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” I said, tearing my eyes away. My cigarette went back to my lips, and I let out another puff of smoke. “You’re gonna end up getting killed one day if you’re not careful.”

She snorted. “Duly noted. Since when’ve I asked you to talk like my older sister?”

“You have a sister?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d love to meet her. Is she… bad?”

“She’s dead.”

The words hung in the air for a moment before they sunk into me. And when they did, I felt a tinge of unease creep in. My next words came out slowly, carefully. “Eclipshura attack?”

“...Yeah.”

A new silence, charged and tense, grew between us. Children turned into orphans by Eclipshura attacks weren’t an uncommon thing. There were so many when the attacks first started, and it wasn’t until the first magical girls showed up that their numbers started to dwindle.

“You wanna talk about it?” I asked.

She took a sharp breath in, almost like a hiss, but slowly let it back out. The hand holding her cigarette started to shake a bit. It was a while before she started to speak again. “If it were anyone else asking, I’d say no. But since it’s my angel speaking – sure, why not?

Happened a few years ago. Was a good day, too, bright sun ‘n everything. Dad’d just got back from work. Said he got a promotion, and wanted to treat us all to a nice dinner. A real dinner. With real food. My sister was stoked; we hadn’t had a real steak in months.

The attack happened on our way back. Killed all of them. I was the only one left.” In the split second I could see it, the glint in her eye turned wistful. She turned away from me. “I’ve got a magical girl to thank for saving me. She’s the only reason why I’m still alive.”

“Thank goodness for that, right?”

“Like hell.” Her voice suddenly took an edge, razor-sharp and skin-flaying. “She came too late. Couldn’t save Dad. Couldn’t save Mom. Not even my sister or even my dog.” I saw her teeth grind together. “And you wanna know why she came late? She had a fucking photo-op! Her agent told me they wouldn’t let her leave early, so while my family was dying, she was taking pictures. Taking fucking pictures.”

A pang of guilt shot through me like a railgun. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Pity’s right below thoughts and prayers on a list of things I don’t need.” Gianna said. Her face turned scarily harsh for a split second, before softening back to usual. She spat out her cigarette and took out another one. I lit it promptly, and she nodded in thanks. “I’ve been told that the Eclipshura came first, then the magical girls. But seriously, why’d they all have to appear in the first place? As if the world wasn’t screwed silly already.”

“Like you on a Tuesday.”

“Bitch.” I felt a light whack against my arm. Gianna’s lips curled down for a second, then went back to normal with a huff. “In any case, that’s ‘nuff ‘bout me. How’ve you been?”

“Been surviving.”

Apparently, Gianna expected a bit more. “That’s it? No drama, developments, nothing? You gotta have something more than ‘been surviving.’”

My mind immediately went to what I saw on TV earlier, but given what we’d just talked about, I doubted she wanted to hear it. At best, she’d scowl and curse the magical girls a bit more; at worst, I’d be here all night as the sole audience to her tirade.

“Let me think: Today I ran out of cigarettes, so I went to meet someone who could sell me some.” I looked at her expectantly, out of the corner of my eye. “Preferably at a low price.”

Gianna barked a laugh. “Not one to beat ‘round the bush, are you? Here.” She held out the rest of the pack to me. I took it, exchanging it with a few notes and coins I had on hand. Gianna counted the number, her face scrunched in inspection, before she waved some of the bills back to me. “You gave me too much.”

“Oh, did I?” I said. “You can have it.”

“Didn’t I just say that pity’s the last thing I needed?”

“It’s not pity, it’s goodwill. Buy some food, snacks, blow it all away, whatever.” I pointed to her cuts. “Though if I were you, I’d use it to get that arm of yours checked out.”

She blinked twice, wordless, then stuffed the money eagerly into her jacket pocket. “Wow. You’re an angel after all, huh?”

I scoffed. “I changed my mind. Give me back my money!”

“Joking, was joking!” She teased. “You’re fun to fuck around with, Angelica. If you ever need more cigs, or if you want something else… you know where to find me.”

Nodding, I got up to leave. As I stepped to the precipice between sidewalk and alley, I couldn’t help but look back towards Gianna. She was bubbling back and forth, a jubilant look on her face, eyes closed in pleasant thought; definitely wondering about what to spend the extra money on. A warm feeling pulsed from my chest – but it was followed by an unsettling fear. The next time I ran out of cigs, would she still be here? Or…

No. I didn’t want that to happen. I couldn’t let that happen.

“Gianna.” I turned back to her. She still bounced with that Gianna-ish enthusiasm, but she opened one eye my way. “If you had a chance to leave it all behind – the streets, I mean – would you take it?”

“One hell of a question,” She mused. “Is this some sort of pickup line? You tryna get me back to your place?”

“If I was?”

“Then I’d have to say no. Even if it’s comin’ from you.”

“So do you like living on the streets?”

“Hell no. This place is the absolute worst.”

“Then–”

“But I think I’ve gotten too used to it by this point.” She met me with a sudden sincerity. Something like that? In this city? Almost as rare as a bright future. “Lately I can’t even remember how I lived before this. I lived in a house with a family, but I don’t remember much more than that. Their faces…” A shiver ran through her before she snapped back to normal. “Nevermind. All I know now is food scraps ‘n the raggedy-ass futon back in my tent.”

I wanted to say something else, try to convince her otherwise; but that look on her face told me that anything I’d say wouldn’t have worked. It pained me a little, recognizing what she really meant: Don’t meddle too much. This was the extent of my presence. “Sure, fine.” I shouldn’t have said that. It was unfairly dismissive. “Take care, Gianna.”

Her face made way for a grin. Toothy, tinged a slight yellow, but stretched from ear to ear. “You t–”

Before she could finish, I heard a distant growl – like the unmooring of a titanic ship, or the sinking of one – emanate from below. My eyes widened in shock. Here? Of all places? I whipped my head back to Gianna, but she didn’t seem to hear it. She was saying something to me, but the words were ebbed, silent. The only thing I could hear was the loudening beating of my heart, and a sharp ringing, like a flatline, pulsing in my ears. It grew louder. Gianna’s voice disappeared.

Then the world rumbled underfoot.

A low shriek rattled from below the ground, and my heart plummeted. The wall behind Gianna blew out, sending bricks flying into the open air with a crash. A bladed appendage, like a ridged sword’s, exploded through the middle of her breast. It retracted as quickly as it struck. Black mist coiled around drawn blood droplets, Gianna’s pale body crumpled to the floor, and scarlet began to drip into her fading smile.