Beyond Stratosphere - Trinity

April 2068. Three of the surviving Stratosphere Angels - Yu, Miho and Nivandra, are preparing for a new mission on behalf of Mr. Greschnik. All of them have struggles to deal with. All of them have a tormented past. All of them want something from Stratosphere. But will it be enough to follow the lead of their fake God or will their longing become their own undoing?

A powerful guitar riff broke blasted at high volume, piercing through the silence of the early morning. The drums followed soon after, a screaming voice dwarfing them.

Till a finger clicked on the display.

Silencing it. Returning the night to its previous state of quiet. That finger was wrapped in a black leather glove, contrasting the ghastly paleness of the skin that emerged underneath. A flick on the display, a small hologram projected on the wall. Five in the morning. Earlier than usual. Still, she was still awake. She hadn’t slept at all, as it always happened when her mood was on the falling side of the rollercoaster. So, she lay in her cot, staring at the ceiling with her real eyes. Not the red lenses that shielded them from the world whenever she was outside, no. The irises she was born with, of a deep hazel color, one that very few had seen inside Stratosphere. Her fingers moved to the side of the bed, grasped the emptiness. The bottle had been there. The bottles. A little bit of alcohol, enough to lose herself. Enough to stop thinking. Enough to switch off. Except, she was awake again. Aware again. Lying on the same cot as every other night, with her eyes wide open. She still had her boots on from the past night. A black, bat-themed choker wrapped her neck too. Yet, that was all what she wore: gloves, choker, and boots. That and her scars. A slash going diagonally down through her chest, a slash that hadn’t healed fully and left behind a horribly unaesthetic sign of her failure. And, close to it, claw marks. Several of them, turned into more and more permanent reminders of her failures. She sighed, let her black hair spread on the pillow. What would Seu have thought of her body, defiled by these horrific wounds? Would he have said anything?

Probably nothing.

Seu, her brother, never cared about her appearance.

She was his sister. That was enough for him.

Yu closed her eyes. Or tried to. They resisted, not wanting to shut down, hoping to taste more of that light that was denied to them so often. Seeing everything red desensitized her to blood, to violence. All by design. All to fulfill her dream.

Still, why she was there, then? Why wasn’t she taking action? Was was she

crying?

Why were there

tears

flowing down her cheeks?

It was Seu. It had to be Seu. Memories of him, before he left her. Before he went away. Before he broke his vow.

You will be the only girl in my life.

Yu’s light faded. Fat chance. Brothers and sisters were not made for that. Turning a siblings’ bond into romance was unnatural, horrifyingly so, revolting, disgusting – inhuman. Yes, it was clear as day that Seu couldn’t keep his promise. So, why?

Why did she get that angry?

Why did she

stab

his first girlfriend?

One instant before, smiles.

One instant later, blood.

And the sound of sirens. Sirens. Sirens.

Yu Honhwan, the teenage idol sensation that sang with her twin brother Seu.

Yu Honhwan, the rising star of the showbiz.

That day, Yu Honhwan died.

After almost murdering her brother’s girlfriend.

What was left of her lay on that cot, basking in the fragility of her body. Rarely, she needed that. She needed to shed her armor, her new identity and come back to her pure, former self. So, she threw away her armor, her mask, everything that defined her new identity and lay down almost naked, trying to sleep – never managing to. Watching the ceiling for eight hours or more.

A whistling tune escaped her lips. A melody, sung with trembling notes, by an even more trembling voice. As the song grew louder, ears broke down from her eyes. She raised her open hand to the ceiling, closed it in a fist, let it fall back on the sheets.

Stabbing that girl felt right.

Stabbing that girl felt good.

Because, if she didn’t

Seu would have left her behind.

Seu would have moved to another country.

Seu would have broken their bond.

Seu would have left her alone.

Seu would have never come back.

That was meant to happen anyway, sooner or later. Still, it felt just too soon. Just too soon. They weren’t even twenty years old. After their parents’ death, they were all what was left to each other. Except that wasn’t the case.

“I wish we weren’t siblings. I wish you could love me as… not just your sister. So that we could still… be enough for each other.”

Her voice was feeble, almost a whisper. Her breath was ragged, slow, unsteady. Her body was like glued to the sheets, not managing to move, not trying to, fighting against her will at every turn.

And the tears kept flowing.

Yeah, she never had any romantic or carnal interest for her brother. That much was clear. She couldn’t think about having her way with him without feeling dirty inside, bathed in a rotten pitch-black ichor that sullied her soul. Despite everything, despite being who she was, that thought made her

puke.

Still, if she could have another body, one that wasn’t genetically compatible with her brother’s, one that let her pass for a person with no blood kinship with him… they could have at least got married. Been there for each other forever. Without a need for anything deeper, except their fraternal love. Just Seu and Yu, joined for life without ever needing to consume their relationship, free from pain, from society, shielding each other from all what was evil or twisted in the world.

“I’ll make this real, if you join my cause, Yu-Yu! You will get a new magnifico body and a new identity, all so that you can get in your beloved brother’s pants! But, first, I need you to become stronger, better! Only then you’ll receive your present!”

She had to give it to Mr. Greschnik – he always knew what to say to sway people to do his bidding, no matter how vile that bidding was. His incest jokes were sickening, revolting even, but the core, the message that passed was the one Yu needed to hear: work for me and I’ll grant your wish. And that’s how Yu Vampyr was born. Saying yes to that magnifico prick. Being brought out of jail. Forcefully transferred to Prague. Abandoning her previous identity, her previous role. All for Seu. All for her beloved Seu. She finally managed to close her eyes, gripped the pillow under her fingers. All those scars, all those humiliations, were the cost she was paying. And no cost was high enough. None at all. So, why?

Why was she staring at the ceiling without being able to lift a finger?

Where

when

did she

break?

Was it when she realized she was just the fifth Angel? That she was so low in the pecking order to begin with? When Nivandra was promoted above her, despite being barely of age? Was it Claudia’s speech about reaching the ranks they deserved? Or maybe…

Maybe it was what Mr. Greschnik told her after providing her with her gift.

“This is your entry ticket, the ticket for a raffle to obtain what you really, really long for, Yu-Yu! Your present, the present you asked for… you will get it once you reach the top spot. I only need the best Angel, and the best Angel is Nadia-chan… for now! Show me you are better than her, that you are better than all the other Angels, and you’ll be given your prize. But no killing your peers, alright? Make your acts speak for you. Climb to the top, like the magnifico specimen you are!”

Yes, that had to be it. Reach the top. Become the First Angel or become irrelevant. Easier said than done, though. She was the fifth. The twins were too strong, too prepared, too good at their job. But Miho… Miho was useless. Her gift was powerful, but she was absolutely too frail to function. Still, despite her shortcomings, she held her Second Angel spot without doing anything to deserve it, relegating Yu to an unwinnable situation.

So, when Claudia staged Lemur’s betrayal, when she made her ambition clear

She couldn’t

simply say

no.

And yet, her act of defiance brought absolutely nothing. She was still the fifth. Claudia was still the sixth. And the third place was now vacant, kept open because none of the current Angels deserved a spot on the podium. Everyone mistrusted her. That was true even before Lemur’s death, but now she had become a real pariah. Even Miho, the stupid Miho that she surprised peeking at her body more often than she should have, was now shunning her. A dangerous snake. That’s what she had become. Claudia was no different – a mad gear who broke the power balance and destroyed the status quo out of personal gain. In the end, nobody believed Lemur to be a traitor – not even Mr. Greschnik. Which, if possible, made her position even more precarious.

“Next time you disappoint me, I’ll take your gift back and send you back to jail, Yu-Yu. Have fun rotting in there until you’re a senile old woman, while your brother dearest builds up a new family and forgets about you!”

Yu groaned, still looking at the ceiling, crossing her arms on her chest. Maybe, just maybe, everything would have been better if she never left that jail. If she never met Greschnik. If she didn’t get that false hope she could actually have a happy ending. Would it have been better if she just ceased existing? If she stopped taking those survival pills? If she let her body rot as it naturally would, like weed withering to dust?

That, though, would have left her brother alone.

Provided he still needed her, that is.

She closed her eyes, opened her eyes, rubbed her shoulders, curled into a fetal position.

That’s right. Seu might have moved on. Might have left her behind. So, what? What was her goal, her resolution? What made her go on, what made her still function?

Her gaze lost itself in the mirror hanging on the wall, reflecting her eyes back, her pale skin. But not that one scar. It was something that always bothered her, something she couldn’t understand completely. Before joining Stratosphere, she had one small scar on her inner right thigh – as a result of a childhood incident. That scar had disappeared right after she became an Angel. It was the only casualty of the process: none of her beauty marks, none of her imperfections suffered the same fate. Still, that scar, that small scar only Seu and she knew about, was gone overnight. Thinking about the topic made her brain burn. There was no real explanation she could find, except maybe two – both unlikely. One: Stratosphere removed it in the process of turning her into an Angel. Two: the body her conscience was inhabiting was not her real body—it was a replica built to look like Yu, breathe like Yu, speak like Yu, move like Yu… but it was not Yu.

Her eyes closed.

Her eyes opened.

Her reflected picture stared at her.

Her reflected tears too.

Yeah, no. Those were idle speculations, induced by her horrible state of mind. No more than musings. Useless distractions.

Her eyes closed.

Her eyes opened.

She slowly stood up, first sitting on her cot, then leaving it, one centimeter at a time. The back of her hand wiped the tears, her fingers massaged the reddened, swollen eyes. Her uniform, her disguise was spread all over the room’s carpet. Panties, bra, pitch-black leather pants, sleeveless top, ripped jacket. Knives. Lots of knives. And her mask. Yu Vampyr was just that – a dead shell full of resentment, jealousy, anger and incest jokes she couldn’t stop cracking, a second skin she was wearing to protect what was left of her. Of her goal. Of her dream. She stretched a little, bent on her knees, grabbed her mask from the amorphous pile of clothes.

If she wanted to make it, she had to endure it. Just a little more. Just a little longer.

Then, she put her mask on, the red lenses covered her eyes, turning their world into a grotesque bloodstained hell. Her mouth arced in a grin. That was more like it.

It was just a question of time before she grabbed the top spot. She had to do it. She was the only one who could. She slowly started to dress, each item of clothing turning her more and more into what she was meant to be. And the mirror reflected her again.

A twisted black devil with a violent smile.

One that craved violence.

**

The brush caressed the porcelain skin, the white varnish that covered it, tracing a delicate arabesque over it. Miho’s gaze remained transfixed on the mirror, as her delicate fingers followed the usual motions. As every morning. As every day. Painting the same motif on her face, on her cheeks. Black strands of dark paint emerging from her eyes, flowing down her neck. As beautiful as they were ephemeral. They didn’t last one day, they needed to be reapplied every time she woke up. That morning was no exception. Her lipstick was smudged all over her chin. She had made the mistake of not removing it and going straight to bed, which turned her pillow into an abstract painting. Still, she couldn’t bear going to sleep before Yu. A drunken Yu in the middle of a striptease was a sight to behold, one her eyes would feast over and over. One she hated and longed for at the same time. Her brush swayed off center. Miho bit her lips. A mistake. It happened more often than not. Yet, having to redo her make-up felt wrong. There was no beauty in repetition. She groaned, took another small brush, cleaned away the imperfection. Thinking about Yu caused that and more, for reasons she couldn’t really pinpoint.

Maybe, it was just the cultural shock.

The perfect daughter for the perfect family.

The heiress of the Teruchigawa Zaibatsu.

Slated to take on the family business.

Instructed to become a paragon of virtue and elegance.

Brought up with total contempt for worldly appetites.

Grown in full abstinence of all the vices known to man.

In order to get married when her moment came.

Now, forced to share her breathing space with a total nutjob that licked her knives while emitting weird moans and emphasizing how much she loved her brother. A deranged woman slightly younger than her, one that didn’t have issues in removing all of her garments and showing all of her skin at the most inconvenient times – except for her mask, that is. Because that weird specimen of human being called Yu Vampyr never took her mask off. Miho fantasized more than once about sneaking into her room to forcefully remove it and get a good look at her real face. Yet, that was an unsavory behavior, not befitting the heiress of the Teruchigawa estate.

Just like her own body.

Miho’s brush outlined her eye profile in a deep black, following her eyebrows, drawing delicate ink patterns around them.

She stopped.

A dark, dense droplet started flowing down her chin. Miho grimaced, gritted her teeth, wiped it away.

Blood.

Her blood.

Always pouring out at the least opportune time. Always ruining her image of perfection.

Her brush violently covered the smudge, drew several black lines between her lips and chin. That would have helped. If blood sullied her skin again, at least it would have been masked by her make-up. A layer of perfection to avoid showing her imperfections. Still, not enough. Not good enough. And, yet, enough. Enough for her to keep going on, to placidly feel at ease. Yes, sometimes she spat blood. Sometimes it poured out of her eyes, of her ears. But it was just a moment. Her body was not breaking down. Not anymore. She didn’t suffer. She didn’t feel pain. That part of her life was gone, buried in the charred rubble that once was her family mansion.

Being the heiress of a giant conglomerate meant nothing when her body didn’t support her.

“Your daughter is terminally ill. She has less than two months left to live, Teruchigawa-dono.”

No money. No doctor. No hospital. No saint. Nobody could do anything. Except him.

Their ‘God’, the mockery of human being calling himself a divinity.

But, against all the odds, this fake God did something.

He gave her hope.

“It won’t solve aaaall of your woes, Miho-chan, but! But! I promise you, this will extend your life expectancy tenfold! One hundred fold! You will still die, of course, but without pain! And! You’ll live! Longer! Join me, defy death, defy that horrible prankster of a god that destined you to wither in such a horrible, unladylike way! And, if you get to the top, if you become my! Best! Angel! I’ll make sure you won’t suffer anymore, any longer.”

Becoming the best Angel. Hard to say it was possible, when her direct competitor was Nadia Nagase. Miho kept touching up her make-up, while wiping the last of her blood from her now black lips. Overcoming Nadia was simply not possible. Nevertheless, Miho was at peace. Even in her current state, she outlived those two months. She outlived the uncle who wanted to get rid of her sooner to save the honor of her family. She outlived her father’s company too, crumbled to dust after news broke out that she was arrested for killing said uncle. The stock market was a wild beast, one that couldn’t be tamed. As dangerous as a dragon, as deceitful as a tanuki, as unpredictable as a kitsune. And, as the creature of nightmare it was, it sank its teeth into the zaibatsu as soon it showed a weakness. What was left, was just ashes.

And she.

Standing alone.

Atop that widespread destruction.

Miho Teruchigawa, the last remnant of what once was the perfect lineage. The Second Angel of a fake god that gave her a new reason to live for. Her brush applied the last touches to her pale make-up, adding more flourish around her eyes, taking care of drawing thicker lines where her blood tears used to flow. Her death mask. A last line of defense that concealed her congenital illness. Like a butterfly that just spread her wings, she wanted to live. Like a butterfly that just spread her wings, her life was going to be short. The beauty of an instant, lost in an eternity of decay. Miho put the brush back among her tools, took out her comb from a pouch, started to style her hair. They had to be perfect, shiny, black like ebony. Her eyes. Her hair. A concerto of glimmering darkness that enshrined her etherealness, that contrasted the absolute white painted on her face. Butterfly. Ice Queen. Yuki-Onna. Mr. Greschnik had minted several nicknames for her, hoping one would stick. Nivandra was Rupture, Yu was Shriek, Claudia was Kiss, the twins… the twins always used codenames. Miho’s comb stopped mid way through its routine. Lemur. Ghost. Both gone. For good. Claudia and Yu killed Lemur. Nadia killed Ghost and incinerated her body, right after she turned into that foul wolf beast that broke containment.

The twins, those marvelous sisters that always acted in unison

died

before her.

A grin took a hold of her face, an automatism that Miho couldn’t control. They weren’t ill. They were healthy. Strong. Confident. And now, they were both dead. Both of them.

She

outlived

both

of

them.

Somehow, that realization filled her with glee. Survival of the smartest, not of the fittest. That’s how she kept herself out of the picture, out of the aims and goals of all other Angels. She wasn’t dangerous enough to be a hindrance. She didn’t plan to climb ranks. She didn’t do anything to put a target on her back. She simply stood there, in the comfort of her position as the Second Angel. Like a weed, a wallflower that remained ignored at most parties. An object of beauty, window dressing at its finest. She was there, but it felt as if she weren’t. That’s how things were. That’s how things were supposed to go. Acting as an Angel, at least in the open. Getting her survival medicine. Going to live another day, while bearing the symptoms of her incurable illness. A perfect equilibrium, a stasis that would never be broken until the end of times.

Her comb returned to its routine, straightening her hair down, letting them shine under the low lamps of her room. Her elegant furisode was waiting to be worn, with those long sleeves exalting the fitness of her thin figure. She loved how that traditional Japanese garb fit her style, the image she projected outside. Deadly. Elegant. The last beautiful thing you’ll see before your demise. That was Miho Teruchigawa’s brand. Show up often enough to get praise, but not often enough to get expectations. The comfort of being free of them, of being free of what others decided her life to be. That’s why she took a liking in Yu. Her excesses, her absolute disregard for societal norms…

Miho wanted to be more like her.

Yet, she couldn’t.

She was still a Teruchigawa, deep inside her heart. So, Yu became an easy target for her longing: a reflection of what she couldn’t be. A reflection of what she wanted to be.

If not Yu, Lucia. The ever-rebellious Lucia. Fiery temperament, short fuse, always bending the rules and being reprimanded for it. Still, there was a huge difference among them: for all of her foul appetites, Yu was still ‘normal’. Lucia wasn’t. She was a defective specimen from the start, with a horrible ‘gift’ – a ‘gift’ that locked her into that monstrous beastly form. Half wolf, half human. An abomination, a freak. A wild animal that went in heat and was prey of her appetites. A one-of-a-kind annoyance. Thinking that, for a while, Miho admired her too made her stomach churn. Lucia was wrong, under all and any points of view. Now, she was roaming the sea on a stinky retrofitted fishing vessel and playing make-believe pirate in the Asian Sea. Such a shameful conduct for what once was the proud Seventh Angel. Yet, she wasn’t alone.

Miho frowned, her eyebrows arced on her pale forehead.

Contrary to all expectations, there was at least another one like Lucia, if rumors had to be believed: a black-maned half-wolf woman, one of unknown origin, one of which no pictures existed – just word of mouth. One that joined Lucia’s pirate crew and acted as her second in command. One that acted as her ‘heatmate’ when her animal instincts got the best of her. One that appeared not long after Ghost was killed by Nadia. Coincidences? Of course. Nadia was completely unable to feel emotions or act against Mr. Magnifico’s directives. Serendipity, most likely. There was no way the two events were connected. Ghost was dead and burned to ashes. And yet…

The alarm clock rang, music spread through the room. It was one of Yu’s songs, one Miho loved to listen to on repeat when nobody was there to keep an eye on her. Five thirty in the morning. Twenty minutes left before gathering in front of the main entrance. Miho silenced her inner voice, groaned in a low tone.

That’s right. I must get ready.

She placed the comb back in her pouch, observed the end result of her patient work. Her long, straight ebony hair and her pale make-up created a perfect contrast, one that fit her favorite codename. Yuki-Onna – the snow woman of the legend. A creature known for being deadly and beautiful. Much like her – a snowflake melting as the first rays of summer came. Miho left her desk, after glancing at the mirror one more time, admiring her look, the precision of her brush strokes. The furisode was waiting for her outside of her cupboard, calling her to action. In twenty minutes, the wrath of an Angel would have dawned on whoever defied a fake god. In twenty minutes, someone would have experienced first hand, on their skin, why defying Stratosphere was considered a death sentence – if they even considered raising a finger to hurt their god.

Miho started wearing her kimono with precise, measured movements. She still had enough time to take it slow. After all, she had no hurry in climbing the ranks. Being the first meant exposing herself to much more trouble than it was worth. A comfortable second place was way more than what she needed.

**

A roll of gauze. Another roll. Another one. Nivandra fastened the bandages around her right arm, pulled one end of the wrap with her teeth, before fashioning a rough knot to finish her job. Every time the same, every time asking for her undivided attention. It required several minutes to compose her outfit as she wanted, to build up a more threatening image despite her minute size. The smallest, youngest, least experienced of the Angels. The team mascot. The pet everyone liked to play with. She

Despised

That.

Nivandra gritted her teeth. It was as if her body had forgotten how to grow. In the year and a half of her Angel tenure, despite finally becoming of age, she didn’t notice any real improvements. She didn’t grow even one centimeter taller. Her picture was almost identical to when she started, except maybe for her haircut. And, of course, for her muscles. Even if her scrawny frame wasn’t really something she could call imposing, if at all, the constant training under Nadia had brought some results, making her somewhat fitter. Despite that, she hated her look. She hated how her body was frozen in time as when she was sixteen, even now at eighteen and clocking. It wasn’t natural. Something had to have gone wrong, somewhere, somewhen. That scaffolding of flesh and blood she called ‘body’ had become seriously defective – that had to be it.

She finished wrapping a third roll of gauze, this time around her right leg. That was her signature fit. Short pants, sleeveless t-shirt, ripped cape and limbs wrapped in white bandages. Her darker complexion made that work like a charm and made her look more threatening, almost like a real fallen angel.

Or so she wished.

Miho found her cute, called her Niva-chan or Nivea-chan even, in front of everyone. Nivea. Like an old German brand of skincare products. That made her blood boil, to the point of having to force herself not to deliver a knuckle sandwich to that ice witch. To make matters worse, during the previous week Claudia shrugged her off with a smirk and a come back when you are older, I’m not into teen puppies. Which, if possible, made Nivandra even more annoyed. That lecherous beast tried unsuccessfully to have her way with all of the surviving Angels… except Nivandra. Because she was seen as a kid. As an immature starry-eyed newbie.

Nivandra fashioned yet another knot, moved her attention to her other leg, still waiting for its fix of bandages.

It wasn’t easier with Renka or del Toro either. Renka (any of the Renkas) would always behave as if she weren’t there by pretending it was just the wind who talked. Del Toro would instead laugh and call her Castanhinha, ‘chestnut’, because of her skin tone and hair color. Nobody was taking her seriously.

Nobody.

Except Nadia.

Nivandra kept wrapping her leg, all while casually staring at the mechanical raven that also doubled as her alarm clock. Still some time before going out. She didn’t need to hurry.

“Nivandra-chan! You were marvelous, very, very marvelous! Seriously, your performance at this evening’s Rapture to replace my dear Chaingear was absolutely magnifico! That horrible French convict didn’t even lay a finger on you. You! Were! Wonderful!”

Mr. Greschnik’s words, words that were uttered at the outset of the first Chaingear-less Rapture after the fiasco back in March, made her feel proud, for once. Cold. Edgy. Playing the role of a consumed killer on stage. She basked in those compliments, in that praise that showered her with a powerful feeling of well-being. Only for the second part to drop.

“We sold so many body pillows with your stylized anime picture on, at the gift shop! So many pervs! Pervs are the best customers, Nivandra-chan! And you cater so much to those pervs with appetites for younger girls! It’s no shame you are so petite, au contraire! It’s very good for my business! Never change, Nivandra-chan! Never grow! You’re perfect exactly as you are!”

Nivandra gritted her teeth. Even he, even that bastard fake god didn’t see her as anything more than a commodity. To think he promised her the world, if she became the First Angel. To think he boasted how she should have replaced Nadia to get her wish granted, how she could do it. He even suggested her to try to get close to Nadia, to backstab her at her weakest, most vulnerable, “because she is so much better than you that I can’t see you ever managing to lay a finger on her. But see, Nivandra-chan, if you did, if you proved her worth, if you managed to do what no other Angels could, you would immediately become my favorite.”

A foul idea, rotten to the core.

Yet, that moment came.

Several times.

The last one in the sauna at floor sixteen, after their last training together. Nadia was so exhausted that she almost fell asleep. For Nivandra, making her blood vessels burst would have been as easy as piercing her wrists with her finger nails. She wouldn’t even have realized it. A painless, sudden death. But Nivandra couldn’t do it.

She had started to cry instead.

Cry like a small kid.

Cry like when Lemur died.

When Rebecca fell into a coma.

Because that what she was – a crybaby that pretended to be a grown up.

Nadia was the only one seeing her as an adult. Nadia didn’t allow any other Angel to train with her. Nadia didn’t let anyone else share a sauna room with her. Nadia was the big sister Nivandra never had. The big sister that could have pulled her out of that marriage she was forced into, when not even fifteen. That marriage that ended up with her killing that monster she to accept as ‘husband’ in cold blood, before he could force his way with her in the first night after their ‘wedding’. That was it, the event that put her on Greschnik’s radar. The event that led her into the Angel ranks. If she had Nadia around before, Nadia would have killed that man for her. Nadia would have protected her.

Because, despite how cold, mechanical, ruthless, inhumane she looked

Nadia

had feelings too.

Weak, atrophied feelings. But she had them. Nivandra noticed it. The way Nadia mourned Lemur. The way Nadia disregarded her orders to deliver Ghost to Lucia. The way Nadia’s eyes shone for a millisecond every time that broken down burner phone vibrated. It was just an embryo of something bigger, but something, somehow, was awakening behind her glacial attitude. And Nadia trusted her, to the the point of telling her about saving Rebecca, about Lucia, of asking her help to conceal the news of her survival.

That would have been it, the moment she could finally climb the ranks. It would have been so easy to tell Mr.Greschnik about it. So easy to impeach Nadia, to mark her as a traitor. So easy to finally get to execute her and steal her position.

But Nivandra wouldn’t.

Couldn’t do that.

Not after all Nadia did.

Not after what Nadia taught her.

So, helping her felt right, second nature even.

Thus, she jumped on her boat and started playing the same song.

Nivandra smirked, chuckled even.

Spreading rumors about a new wolf gal joining Lucia’s crew was the plan all along, instead of the information leaking on its own at an unspecified moment in the future. If that story broke out at a later time, Nadia would have become a prime suspect for hiding it and helping Rebecca out… but the same news being spread mere hours after the rescue operation was successful? That was where Nivandra’s genius lay. Most of those getting wind of that factoid would have considered it an oddity, very few would have connected it with Rebecca’s ‘death’. The sooner the rumors started, the better. Making it sound like that mysterious wolf gal was there even before Rebecca’s disappearance made it way harder to connect the two events. Even if Rebecca didn’t turn into a half-wolf like Lucia – and the risk was admittedly high that she remained locked in her monstrous full lycan shape – nobody would have blamed an uncontrolled rumor. A masterclass of he said she said, with some flourishing added to the truth to make it even more appealing. Admittedly, crafting that part about Lucia and this new wolf girl being ‘heatmates’ and having wild intimate time together was also Nivandra’s idea. Something funny she thought she would add to make it look even more unlikely that it involved Rebecca. Of course, she drew inspiration from the ever-growing stash of girls-love comics she hid under her cot. Nobody knew about them. Nobody was supposed to. Not even Nadia.

Another chuckle broke the silence of those early morning hours.

The perspective of two lesbian pirate werewolf girls madly in love with each other, roaming together the East China Sea felt too alluring not to use as a hook – even if it was as wrong as objectively possible. Nadia didn’t need to know that Nivandra was the origin on that specific rumor that spread like wildfire and was now accepted as ‘truth’, or she would have probably scolded her for it. She would have all the reasons to be mad: the Broken Moon Circus had apparently put a hefty bounty on the head of the unknown mischief maker that first crafted that baseless gossip, with an ominous ‘alive or dead, but preferably dead’ tagline too.

Nivandra finished up the last knot, fastening the last wrap of bandage around her thigh.

It was no use lingering in fantasies too much. She had to accept her reality: her body was growing so slowly that she might have already reached full maturation. She was short, thin, scrawny even. She had nothing going for her aside for her gift and Nadia’s hard training. Still, she was an Angel. One of Stratosphere’s elite executioners. That accounted for something. In fact, looking so harmless could play to her advantage, after all. Yu and Miho screamed ‘danger’ at a first glance, but she? Nobody would have taken her too seriously, at first. That was what Nadia told her.

“When I was eleven, I killed a diplomat because he didn’t think a little girl could stab him.”

Right. The shock factor. The surprise strike. All of Nadia’s teachings coming back to her. Guerrilla tactics, slicing throats from behind, acting innocent and killing in one blow. A smile opened on her face. Nadia saw qualities in Nivandra. Nadia helped her foster them, Nadia brought the best out of her. No way she’d ever betray Nadia. Her gift, the promise Greschnik made her be damned.

She was sure about it.

If she ever had to choose between serving Mr. Magnifico or helping Nadia, even if her life were on the line, Nivandra knew what to do.

Knew which side to take.

And wouldn’t falter.

Not even once.

Nivandra glanced at the clockwork-raven-clock. Still fifteen minutes to go. Still enough time to apply the finishing touches. In fifteen minutes, she’d meet with Yu and Miho in front of Stratosphere HQ. In fifteen minutes, Mr. Magnifico would also show up, with his dumb lipsticked smile, red shades and perfectly coiffed hair, ready to speak from a podium in Montenegro four hours later. Why Mr. Greschnik decided to bring three Angels with him, was beyond what Nivandra could grasp. Still, orders were orders, and she would have followed them till the end.

Unless they damaged Nadia.

She grinned.

Maybe, being seen as a harmless team pet wasn’t that bad, after all.

Killing Greschnik would have been way simpler if he didn’t consider her a threat, if the need ever arose.

With that last thought, she straightened her cape, left the comfort of her bed.

A long day was ahead of her.

Another day to spend in the shadows of her pompous, self-important, self-centered ‘comrades’.

While she observed them, unseen, unconsidered.

Ready to strike them down when the right moment came.