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Sometimes, walking through the sky bridges and staring through the clear glass into the grey clouds above, Cleo remembers why towers are also called skyscrapers. The city around her reaches into the heavens, piercing into the thick cloud cover and blinking like false stars in the fog. It’s beautiful, in a way.
She shoulders her bag and keeps walking. Her last class of the day finished already, and though she has several chapters of reading to get to, her schedule isn’t exactly the most balanced. Hobbies can sometimes become time-consuming.
A ping lights up, and she blinks twice to interface.
<Etho> are you free later?
<Etho> tournament starts at 3 but we can get lunch before! ^-^
Cleo dodges a crowd of students and takes the stairs, sending a message back on the feed. They’re busy, technically, but… it’s Etho. They remember kicking stones together at the last park in their neighborhood before it was overtaken by a tangle of concrete and steel bars and paved into a parkade. Now, decades later, they’re at universities twenty minutes by train and 80 years by rivalry apart.
<Cleo> the place on Yao and 6th?
<Etho> already there :)
The train comes quickly, and Cleo feels the familiar buzz at their temple as they pay the fare through the feed. They fiddle with a loose thread in their bag, trying to hide their nervousness about this. It’s Etho.
The thing is… Cleo hasn’t spoken to Etho in a while. On the feed, sure, but it’s been hard organizing things with his busy tournament schedules and their… extracurricular activities. It’s like ships passing in the night. There’s never been a good time to really talk, and Cleo definitely wasn’t ready to tell him about the things that go bump in the night the last time they spoke.
The train stops. They take a long breath.
Etho waves at them through the window, blinking advertisements flashing across his face as his eyes wrinkle in the familiar calling of a hidden smile, and the tension in Cleo’s shoulders releases. It’s Etho. They’ve got nothing to worry about.
“Cleo!” Etho says as soon as they walk through the door, sliding glass opening with a chime and a reminder to approve credit transfers across the feed. “How have you been?”
They wave their hand side to side; so-so. “I should ask you that after the crushing defeat you got served last week,” they joke. Etho scrunches his nose, cybernetics on his face whirring as he does. His red eye spins in place, and Cleo leans back, taking him in.
They missed him, plain and simple. Cleo opens their mouth to speak,
—THUD!
The window reverberates with noise, and a large red symbol pops up, warning them of seismic activity. The feed pings a beat later, and their eyes go hazy as they open the news alert. There’s a creature in the heart of the city, heading towards the Council building where a policy meeting was set to start ten minutes ago. Cleo blinks, shaking their head as they return to the present.
Etho looks at Cleo, at the window, then at nothing at all, retreating back into the feed.
“I have to go,” he says suddenly. “Get somewhere safe.”
“What?”
He’s already standing, sweeping his long coat around him and two physical credits on the counter next to his steaming bowl of rice. His chopsticks sit upright, nearly sticking straight up from where he’s abandoned them mid-scoop.
Cleo hesitates, then sets them down for him. There’s no tempting fate, not with what she’s about to do. She pays for her food on the feed, taking the steps two at a time to head for the back alley.
As soon as she’s in the shaded darkness, crammed between two buildings that have seen better days, Cleo lets her sleeves fall off and threads unravel. When she blinks, it’s from under a visor of flashing green. Cybernetic sparks tingle up her spine, and she feels the familiar rush of adrenaline as she activates her bracers. Sparks dance on her skin, embroidered metal sheets flashing on her calves as she leaps up sixty feet.
When the Doc’s away, it’s time to play.
Cleo’s not a superhero, not really. She dashes across rooftops and slides on sparking metal feet, pinging Etho on the feed as she heads for the city center. The gateway stands tall as she approaches, the last bastion of natural growth in the center of the city, carved and painted wood with bonsai roots snaking all around it.
<Etho> are you okay?
<Etho> i had to make sure our bot was safe
<Etho> the team left it and the seismic counter scared me
<Etho> sorry for leaving
<Etho> are you okay?
She skids to a stop, pinging Etho back with confirmation. She looks up at the gate, bowing carefully in respect as the golden glow around it gleams brighter for a moment, acknowledging her presence. The incense at its sides burn forever, the guardian spirits of the city continuing in their duties.
Cleo’s just here to lend a hand.
She steps through the gate as respectfully as she can, then breaks into a sprint again, heading for the heavy thuds she can feel reverberating up her steel spine. On the rooftops above, she sees a familiar shape, lithe and quick, leaving a blinding streak of scarlet in the fog behind him.
Not a vigilante, not a hero, but a teammate nonetheless. Pathos works for himself and sometimes for people who offer him large amounts of money. A bounty hunter, but for the spirits and creatures that plague the city. Noble enough, Cleo figures.
Pathos lands silently behind her, tapping her on the shoulder with an exaggerated flair. His entire face is covered in black glass, but there’s something about his body language that always tells her what he’s thinking.
Another thud shakes the ground. They exchange a look, then start dashing together.
“Yaoguai,” he says as they approach. The creature towers over them, a horse’s mane flaming with dark intent. “It’s mostly been… standing there. Stomping sometimes.”
Cleo nods. “Right. Do we know what it wants?”
He shrugs. “Listen, I have, uh. I’m kind of busy later, so let’s wrap this up quickly.”
Technically, so is Cleo. She promised to show up to Etho’s tournament.
“Works with me.” She cracks her knuckles. “You get your payday and I get to kick some ass.”
Above them, fire rages.