The winter snow covered the streets of Paris, the former capital of the European Union. The evening scene of the city used to be considered among the best in the world, but now it has degraded nearly to ruin due to decades of mismanagement which, coupled with the moving of the Capital to Berlin all the way in Germany, drained a lot of the city’s resources and source of incomes and canceled many of the rebuilding projects planned for the city of lights that was ravished by the Third World War most. But even though  the once majestic Eiffel Tower no longer stands in the center of the city, the citizens continue to thrive around it, with the newly rebuilt Arc de Triomphe symbolizing the people’s perseverance in face of insurmountable problems that faced their once glorious city.

However, this small victory of the people only serves to hide the more sinister face behind the mask - the vast underground network that lives in a city riddled by corruption and arrogance. The smell of blood and gunpowder would riddle the less fortunate areas, while those fortunate enough would wake up to holes in their home courtesy of the newly developed lasers set to replace the old model. Wherever you go, the song will forever remain the same.

In the midst of it all, however, is the hope that the innocent souls that populate the city cling into. While the government has already abandoned the City of Light as a feasible project they can work on, it is this hope that got them through the worst of times. They brought riches when riches are needed, food when a famine arrived, they provided shelter in a winter storm. They are truly the champions of the masses in the abandoned capital.

No one knows who they are or where they came from. No one knows why they do what they do or what they want. All everyone knows is that, if it’s not for them, they would all have perished by now. They are known as the Parisian Quintet.

The Parisian Quintet moves in the shadows, saving the innocent from harm. They bring alms to those who need it, and justice to those who deserve it. And in spite of everything everyone knows they’ve done for or against them, no one has ever seen either tail or hide of them.

***

“So, how was last night’s gig?” asked the innkeeper on the lady walking down the stairs.

Small in stature, light in skin, short in hair, and a natural beauty by any standard. That is Micah Elle.

“It was fine,” she said rather dismissively.

The innkeeper does not take offense, though, and even chuckles as he goes about his daily work.

Soon after their little conversation, it is Micah that then goes to him to speak. “So, about this month’s rent.”

“Ahahaha!” the innkeeper chuckled. “You don’t have to worry about it. Last month’s pay is more than enough to cover three more months, including this one. I don’t know what your job is, kid, but I suppose it’s fine as long as you’re not hurting anybody!”

“I see…”

She slunk back into her room, having carried out the one thing she came down for. The rooms in the inn aren’t the biggest thing in the world, but it serves its purpose as a living quarters for a single person. The bed is of good quality, there are no cracks or holes in the wall, and is just generally well-kept. She’s lucky she can afford to live in a place like this, unlike many others.

But that’s why she’s here. That’s why she does what she does. To make it all better, so everyone can enjoy a decent life while they’re alive. And that’s when her HLD rang.

“Let’s go pick some roses down in Paris, my love.” said the person on the other side. “They say that the most beautiful ones will bloom today.”

“I will gladly pick flowers with you,” she replied. “What time would the flowers bloom?”

“At noon. Wear your Sunday’s best.”

“I understand.”

After putting down her HLD, Micah swiftly went to her wardrobe, opening a false bottom that hides it’s true contents. Within it is a blood colored mask, a skintight suit of the same color, and various gadgets that one would never find anywhere else.

But as Micah began to strip in order to change to her clothes, she noticed a little bug buzzing by her window. In one swift motion, she crushed the bug, who hadn’t had any time to dodge. “Please don’t even think of it, Bug. You know I’m much faster than your toys.”

And so, with no further incident, Micah swiftly changed into her new attire, placed a dress on top of it, and went out. She will be going to pick a flower today, not as Micah Elle, but as Wild Flower, thorn of the Parisian Quintet.