Chapter 4: Leveled skies.

      It had been some weeks since that fateful fall. Rose stood sure footed on her slim machine, cloth strips wrapped around her thin form, leather goggles donned her face, and blue wool gloves kept her pale shivering hands from falling off and plummeting to the earth below. The night's air blew, teeth sinking into flesh and machinery alike as the cool moon shone down its sickly white light. Shelled ammunition slings jingled in the rushing wind from their position across her chest, glinting with her holstered fli-pistol buttoned across Rose’s belt. The air already smelled of outgassing chemical reavers, and primed gasoline turbines, she slowly approached her latest destination. 

The girl pushed through the bitter wind, growing gradually closer to the mushroom-like spire peeking out above the midnight cloud layer, a dusky metal, and faded crimson patchwork. The outpost and the nearby scape were illuminated with candle yellow light that streamed from rows of windows, plastering the ascending circled walls. Rose clicked a rusted pedal with her foot, while roughly yanking the sail around, the skiff and its rider began to circle the outpost slowly. The outpost was the size of a small town, she could hear jeers from the infamous mercenary bar already, as her goggle clad eyes spied the rickety landing dock. Her boots touched down onto the metal grating, creaking miles above the clouds, where skiff was chained to a ceiling rail, walking it behind, Rose pulled her shawl even tighter, a makeshift outfit of darkened leather and cloth, pulled over her jacket and subsequent body. She pulled it even closer against her shoulders and the dangerous mark that resided below, inches from her neck.

            The clopping of hard rubber soles, mingled with the sparse words emanating from a few select huddles of drunken pirates, fiddling mechanics, or threesome joyrides dotting the rather cramped runway hanger. The walls were made from a conglomerate of different metal sheets, except slightly more uniform and all the same color now that they were on the inside. Thin pipes and rods braced the ceiling, walls, floor, and roofing rails, from which hung small to medium sized sky skiffs and boats, all a wide variety of different shapes, suspended by thick cables and chains, or gingerly carried by floor mounted struts. Toolboxes and apparatuses lay strewn about haphazardly in their own little covens, despite this the whole hanger was rather clean. She made her way to the large staircase at the direct back end of the metallic rectangle. The metal of the makeshift spiral staircase creaked under her lithe but weighed down form as she gradually made the journey up each floor. 

Lugging a small sack, filled with light amenities and a small selection of food that Rose had acquired from different outposts over the past few weeks. Each floor was rather interesting and different, Rose passed a sleep floor filled with beds in varying mild states of disarray, a makeshift hospital, bathroom deck, shopping deck filled with questionable items and foods. But her mark was the top, the Orange cat, also known as this sector of sky’s most popular merc bar. She made her way up the last few hundred steps, using the greasy railing as guidance for the final stretch, her other hand let slack the items over her shoulder, she pushed up the heavy slab of metal, entering the deep damp of the bar’s centerpiece above. 

Emerging, it took her eyes a few precious moments to adjust, following the dank atmosphere of the bar, everything lit by the telltale orange glow, which made itself known through the systematically set hanging crystal lanterns that were placed in front of each arched window bay. Above the entrance hatch hung a thin metal sign riddled with bullet holes, still managing to resemble a large fat black cat with piercing yellow eyes, Rose sighed to herself at the bar’s namesake, before she let the hatch slip through her fingers with a jarring klang, rounding a matted grubby set of sofas, Rose made her way to the bar center. There were various patrons, some crowded a 3-legged pool table, some hung their feet out into the night sky through a precarious rusted hole in the midnight floor. Others dozed around in a fantastical stupor elated by the rotting upholstery.

            She made her way to the surgically lit countertop and sat in one of the high but surprisingly soft mounted barstools. Casting a soft glance to the left and then the right, she pulled her mask down as the grizzled bartender's quiet grunt rang out. Various passed out figures adorned the bar but other than that, the atmosphere was slow and steady. Rose recalled all the outpost and merc bars she had visited in the past few weeks after leaving the wreckage, and how none had the answers that she had wanted. Different outposts built on and in mountaintops, on floating rocks with magnetic bottoms, or even the branches of a dead tree and its many limbs, all above the clouds of course and all well secluded. But placed in the path of air way traffic to garner attention from late night sky pirates, and of course the mercs. That's what she was searching for, searching the loose web of criminals, pirates, and slavers to try and find any information about that crystal clad terrace. 

She made a hand gesture, two fingers, three fingers, four, one, something she had learned, and the ashen bearded bartender nodded with sunken eyes, but a youthful attitude, he turned and started to culminate various ingredients under the dim pale blue. The sounds of light clanking and shaking were followed by a toweled arm leaving the drink in front of the girl. She took a tentative sip, even though she had been through this many times before, swallowing, Rose savored the sweet, bitter, and slightly off-putting sourness of the concoction a trader had shown her at the first outpost she had ever evaluated. Rose opened her liquor dried lips about to speak, just as a small uproar sounded below. 

All heads turned, poised with ears alerted as the bar's hatch erupted with wind shearing force, sending a noisy rush through the otherwise “silent” bar. Boots against toughened metal could be heard as the silhouettes of three distinct figures were framed against the harshened stairwell light. The first figure to enter was a tall slender well-built human, a man in a tailcoat suit that was as clean as the day it was made. His skin was light, milky almost, which contrasted his slicked back hair. The man’s face was soft, clean shaven, but handsome, and he appeared to be a little younger than middle age, perhaps thirty-five Rose thought to herself. His eyes were blue staring out through a thin, silver framed, twin lensed, adornment which sat before his eyes, matching the blue of his dangling crystal earrings, when he walked, they swung, along with the long thin hilted sword, clutching his right hip. The man stepped in with ease and vigor, pristine shoes gracing the bar's floor as he made room for what could only be his companions.  

            The second figure to enter was a rather short… person wrapped completely in clean graying bandages. Their coveted body clad in a tattered black t-shirt, darkened and dusty cargo shorts, and goggles, which nestled against the dark red bandana, surrounding a sprouting explosion of black hair, knitted in a high ponytail that hung down all the way to their lower back. They strutted in after the tall figure, like an animal pretending to be a human, hands clawed, knees bent, spine arched, as they sauntered up to the bar. Growling in the tender’s ear, they were poured a drink of some vile liquid, which was then splashed onto the bandages that covered their mouth, like a rowdy monkey. Just as this sight unfolded, the tall figure stood in the back behind the hatch, hands crossed behind his back, giving off the most sinister of snake like grins, cheeks sealing eyes as the third figure emerged. 

A massive thing heaved itself through the large hatch, barely able to fit through an opening designed for 3 workers to enter shoulder to shoulder. A large rotund thing, that couldn’t be human, course it was hard to tell where skin began, and clothing ended. If this creature even wore clothes and was not, simply adorned with organic strips of variously colored flesh. Feet like the trunks of trees, stubby but powerful stomped onto the floor, holding up shapely hips that led into roll after roll. Numerous rolls created its flabby body, leading up to a nubbin that was surely its head, massive rippling arms sprouted from its sides. The thing’s face was also covered by rusty aviation goggles and strips of cloth or flesh that covered what would be normal features, or Rose assumed, since she did not know if it even had a face. The two figures and the monster took up their space at the entrance rather close to where Rose was as she pulled her drink up to her lips, trying to save face. As an icy shard of glassy cold slipped down her spine, what was this circus bunch doing in an outer rim bar? She thought to herself. Rose kept her drink, nursing as her eyes trained the trio at the periphery. 

“Hello everyone” the man said, snake-like smile glued to his visage, the words cutting through the thick atmosphere of the bar with a great lack of ease. 

He swooped over to the counter, picking up the half-finished drink that his shorter companion had made such a mess of as he leaned, flickering neon lights illuminating his suit-like attire; he took a sip. 

“It has come to our attention, that a magi might be among you” he said with flowing grace, as Rose almost choked, resisting the urge to turn away. 

“Now now, no need to worry, it appears they have hit every outpost in this region, this one being the last” he paused, surveying the dimly lit, un-caring crowd “we tracked them all the way out here, and as members of the court we usually don’t waste our precious, precious time…” another pause as he perused his fingernails “on such trivial matters, but we believe this magi has some ties to a rather elusive terrorist organization” he said with a grin “usually we’d just kill them as per the law regarding all free magi” the words spewed forth as the trio attempted to make eye contact with everyone in the room “but we would like to capture this vile, vile scoundrel, do any of you perhaps know of a harbored magi? A dangerous person perhaps?” he closed his eyes “or are any of you willing to… turn yourselves in” the grin spread wider as the words hung in the room. 

He pushed the tentative lenses up his rather triangular nose, speaking again, words filled with something far from kindness “ah, no matter” his hands spread across the space “it just so happens that I have an ability myself...hmmm something akin to what you might consider, mind reading, very useful for hunting down elusive prey” that last word was stressed, and Rose sat bolt upright as her very soul willed to call his bluff.