Jazelle looked at Lior, stunned. Her words were a command, stripped of emotion. The words caught in Jazelle’s throat, desperate to flow out, trapped by a dam.

“How could you say such things — this is a life!”

Jazelle grabbed onto Lior’s chest. The turtleneck that appeared like armour warped like liquid steel around her hands. It felt like chainmail, but Jazelle didn't care. Lior's head dangled like a doll as Jazelle pulled Lior's head closer.

They were so close that Lior could feel Jazelle's breath. It was a raging flame. A raging flame so hot it could incinerate lies to pieces.

“You’re always like this. You don't care! I bet you didn't look for me after I went!”

Lior didn't retort. Instead, she grimaced. The turtleneck was like chainmail; the space that Jazelle grabbed was starting to come undone. Jazelle's hand was as hot as a furnace. That furnace was going to breathe and sweep her away, melt away her mask of composure, and turn her perfect, cool-sculptured self into sparkles. The needles were poking into Lior’s brain, pushing deeper. Lior was being lobotomized whether she liked it or not. Her body was held together with the pain of experience, and years and ages of militarized training put into place. Lior flashed some teeth. Her back was aching, her shoulders were sore, and she had lost feeling in her legs. Lior looked at Jazelle like a mirage.  Even if Lior can't see her, she looks at her.

“Jazelle,” Lior said.

The sound rolled off Lior's lips like Jazz from a foreign age. Jazelle paused at the familiar sound of her name. She had heard her name several times before, but not like this. It was soft, melodic and tender, as steady as a fortress standing still after a bit of rain. 

Lior sang out the rest of the words. Soft and unflinching.

“If we don't act, we’ll die. Let one take the fall. At least they die a noble death, a soldier’s duty.”

It was the most profound thing Lior had said, and the longest sentence she had constructed. It spoke like dogma.

As Lior spoke those words, for the first time, Jazelle understood what Lior was. Her decisions were swift and precise. She ran on a disciplined routine. They were similar. It is do or die. A second's hesitation would be a bullet through the skull, and that wasn’t an option for either of them.

Jazelle turned to Elora, “What’s the plan?”

“I-I head there first, towards the other end of the bridge; the surveillance drones should follow me first.”

“Is that enough?” Jazelle asked.

“The drones aren’t as skilled at multi-detecting here. She should be able to throw them off.”

“And?” Jazelle said.

Lior interrupted. “You talk to the machines here, and figure out how to build a bridge…But figure out how to do it before you leave here.”

Jazelle looked at Lior with certainty.

By the time Lior finished speaking, her vision turned pitch-black. She wished she weren’t in such a state. Her body felt like dead lead. She wished she could stare at that spot behind Jazelle’s neck and see where the markings were starting to show. 

-

When Jazelle was seven, Lior was starting to see a faint trace of those markings at the back of Jazelle’s neck. She realized it happened, especially when Jazelle was fiddling with things. So when Spectre appeared, she asked her for a favour. 

“I heard you’re a material-user.”

“Yes,” Spectre said. “You remember well, Lior.”

A young Lior looked up at Spectre, “Could you create something for Jazelle, so at least she’s undiscovered for a while?”

Spectre didn’t crouch down this time; she looked down at Lior.

“Sure, if you manage to work under me.”

Spectre continued. “This world isn’t kind, Lior. I’ll train you to see things, and there are some things you hope you wouldn’t see.”

“I don’t mind,” Lior said. “As long as Jazelle isn’t involved, that’s okay.”

-

Sacrifice was part of duty. Lior felt it down to the destruction of her body and bones. Jazelle’s gaze lingered on Lior. In a dark world, where presence was felt, Lior felt Jazelle’s pulse through her hands on her shoulders. It bordered on staccato.

Lior repeated herself.

“Jazelle. Talk to the bridge.”

Elora rushed out of the glass platform, past the exit, opening the barred glass doors, out onto the metallic bridge. The metallic bridge had no railings on either side. It was held together with heavy clunks of metal intersected with several screws. It was a colossal mass hanging in the middle of the sky. 

Elora stepped onto the bridge. The drones circled like a net above her. She raced to the other side. The drones dove deep red dots against the dark sky. They redirected their red beams towards her, laser-sharp. 

In the meantime, Jazelle slung Lior’s arm around her and rushed towards the exit. They reached past into the towering metallic bridge on the overpass. Jazelle looked down at the empty expanse. Wind rushed from both sides. Fading lights hung in the distance. To Jazelle, they were no longer enticing. They stood still like alarm bells in the distance, and a shiny time long gone past. They glittered like diamonds. Close up, they were valued, but at the end of the day, they were just mineral ores. Jazelle cleared Elora’s image from her mind and focused. 

The surveillance drones intercepted Elora. They all pointed their lasers at her. Elora was trapped in a tangled net of lasers. One of the lasers was pointed straight at her head like a target. Elora raised both of her hands and fell to her knees. The lasers marked the centre of her head like a death sentence. The surveillance drones surrounded her, masking her from view.

Jazelle wanted to look; she wanted to scream. The heavy weight of a soul welled up in her throat. The edges of her eyes were wet. She knew. The weight felt heavy in her stomach and chest. She knew.

Jazelle crouched down with Lior, Lior dangling like a ragged doll on one arm, and touched a hand to the pavement. The digital veins ran, each stream of light passing through like a cell in an organism. She closed her eyes and connected with everything. The System. Grave-Downe. Everything in between. She spoke through her Mind’s Eye, and the commands ran through her arms. 

Unlock.

Destroy.

Reinforce.

Build.

The word build came out with a stronger intensity than usual.

Building with the intent to destroy.
Building with the intent to reclaim what has been destroyed.

Jazelle organized the jumbled voices in her head and disseminated the chatter in her brain. She matched the signature of three frequencies and forced the metal on the bridge to meld and take shape. 

Three streams of metal swerved and shot to the sky. A bridge was being built. Metallic pieces appeared and disappeared in sequence. Jazelle took Lior and leapt onto the bridge. Clanging metal shot through the air. Lior’s arm swung back and forth. She winced, gritting her teeth. Jazelle noticed. The security drones noticed as well. Four drones separated from Elora, heading straight to Lior and Jazelle. They sped fast like bullets.

Lior screamed.
“What are you doing! Go!”

Jazelle ran. She heard the voices in her head. The Council were trapped in the room. And they were coming for them next.

She ran using the bridge like a pair of metallic wings. The metal flowered and surrounded her feet, and lifted her higher as she ascended.

They were mid-way when Jazelle ran into a problem. She realized they lacked material. The metal bridge was starting to collapse. Jazelle felt the weight of gravity, and both of them started falling.

Jazelle looked at the buildings, which appeared taller and taller. They were skyscrapers that reached towards the sky, blocked off by the weight of a colossal dome. The dome became smaller and smaller. The surveillance drones zoomed in. Jazelle closed her eyes.

Lior heard the surveillance drones swooping in. She acted fast.

One at twelve o’clock.
Other at Two.
Last at Four.

She flipped her leather jacket and used her mind to make all the necessary calculations. Lior calculated like a missile on edge. She took 3 blades hidden underneath her leather coat and shot them in three different directions. All blades landed on the surveillance drones’ heads—like a split operation. All fell like birds from the sky. Lior used her arm like a weapon. Her measured arm fell, numb. Lior closed her eyes. Jazelle looked at Lior, unconscious on her arm. Her body felt heavy, lifeless. Jazelle stiffened.

Jazelle instantly sent frequencies to each drone. They jittered like birds trapped in a cage. She overrode them. They swarmed down, and Jazelle commanded and absorbed them, using them as material to build the bridge. 

The bridge sprang forth towards the sky, and Jazelle sprinted the last stretch. She landed on the square opening near the top of the door. The opening closed with a metallic shutter, and Jazelle and Lior fell onto the concrete pathway.

Jazelle panted; her face was covered in soot. The humidity was stifling, and she felt her shirt sticking to her skin. She rolled Lior onto her arm and felt her pulse. It was faint.

But it was still there.

She fastened Lior tight onto her back and, after what seemed like an eternity, got out of the tunnel. 

There was a stretch of desert in between them. Jazelle trekked for a bit, then found a concrete pillar to rest in with some shelter. She laid down her backpack, placed all the remaining snacks in front of her, and cushioned Lior’s head on top of the backpack, using it as a pillow.

She shook Lior.

“Lior! Lior!”

Lior heard the faint trace of her name, but that was all she remembered. The person’s voice sounded rhythmic, like the mechanical tickings of an antique clock. The only thing is, she didn’t know who it was. All she knew was that when she heard this person’s voice, it was similar to the aromatic warmth of coffee blooming in her heart. It was faint, like the fading tide of spring.

There was desperation in the voice. A faint cry got caught in the person’s throat. Lior was being shaken, but she couldn’t react. Lior’s body was tethered to the ground, her mind was caught in darkness, and her voice…she couldn’t speak. All she knew was that the voice was calling her to the plains beyond. Beyond that desert between The Iron Valley and The Scorchlands, Lior viewed in a book under scrapbooks of paper.

She wanted to talk, but she needed to rest. The numbness she felt disappeared. Darkness covered her like knowing comfort in the middle of the night.

-

It had been days since Lior and Jazelle left Grave-Downe. Sun-Downe was more of a mess. An investigation had opened regarding the missing Detective, and now none of the residents could leave their homes. No one talked about Jazelle, even though they knew she was missing.

Detective Tru’s subordinates searched all the surveillance drones and found some footage. They spotted a shaggy-haired girl with a nine-year-old entering what looked like a ruined building.

They entered it, and all they saw was a circular frame. It was hidden in bits of the wall. Some tried to walk through it, but all they reached was the other side. It didn’t appear like an entrance to anything. Some investigators swabbed samples to send back to headquarters to investigate.

Tru’s subordinates stood by the front of the frame, wondering what happened. 

-

More days passed by, and Lior and Jazelle remained in the ruined building in the desert. The day was fine. Jazelle made herself comfortable and ensured the place they inhabited was safe. She managed to find a pipe, slice it open with her auto-tool, and use it as a drinking source. Jazelle filled her empty cranberry juice with water, trickled some down Lior’s throat, then trickled some down her own. 

She was fatigued, but they were safe, and that was what mattered. 

What was brutal was the night. The desert winds would pierce through the uncovered windows of the abandoned building and hit Lior and Jazelle like wildfire. Jazelle ended up taking off Lior’s leather coat and laying it directly on top of her. While Lior slept peacefully, Jazelle went to a sheltered corner of the building and curled up in a ball. She hugged her arms around herself. It was chilling. Her arms were exposed, bare and defenceless against the elements. She barely slept throughout the night, but the force of the wind kept her awake. It drummed in her ears, reminding her of her impending mortality and of the many passing days to come.