fwhup~ fwhup~
"Huhh..."
She closed her eyes, her mouth slightly agape while she dried her hair with a cool towel—rubbing in a circular manner, her tufts dancing with each rub before pulling on them gently.
She opened her eyes and blinked a few times, staring at her reflection—a tired face with a cool expression. A few white and blue strands drifted over her vision, unfocused. Sierra wiped the mirror once and her unruly hair came into view. She set the towel on the open cabinet beside her.
Sierra grabbed the hair dryer and pressed the power button. It blew to life and she aimed it at her wrist before twisting a knob to warm the air.
Her band-aids long removed, the little crystals gleaming under the light, each one reflecting the bathroom. Both hands covered in an abundance of them with the back of one wrist holding more than the other.
She ignored the crystals and lifted the hair dryer to her head, shutting her eyes and lips tight. The warm rush pushed across her scalp while the pain in her hands eased under the noise.
A necklace rested on her neck, simple in every respect—something straight out of any animation. A thin brown cord held a small vial that swayed lightly with every move.
Filled half way with a black glossy liquid.
Sierra ran her fingers down the length of her hair, untangling the mess with each pass for several minutes.
She shut it off, placing it on the counter before her before heaving a sigh out.
Sierra dug in the small basket directly under the mirror, shuffling past expired medicine and old recipients. Her hand finding what she needed most—pain killers.
She twisted it open before popping two, no three pills onto her hand and discarding the now empty bottle. Her head tipped back, and she threw them into her mouth with water following in a moment later—courtesy of Coagulation, water instead of blood.
Her hands grabbing onto the counter while she stared back into her reflection.
She turned around before opening the door, her slippers padding her steps as she walked to the bed. Her clothes levitating off the floor, following her out.
The driver and the rest of her discarded attire laid onto the mattress haphazardly, while the white medical bag laid aside—her hands grabbed the jacket, rummaging its two front pockets for anything inside.
Once she was done, she grabbed her shorts—they were a faded dark blue, with the faintest of green and white but shorts none the less.
Loose enough to not cause a distraction, and long enough to not cause her embarrassment.
When she finished unbuckling the brown pouch, she grabbed the belt from one side and yanked all at once. The belt causing whiplash across her arm.
The belt carried a deep brown tone, glossy and firm to the touch, with a black buckle that caught a sharp flash of light.
Once the jacket and shorts rested folded in her arm, she looked beyond the bedroom's window that glowed with the city afar and took the staircase down—a straight shot to the first floor.
When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she pivoted one eighty degrees. Her eyes settling on the spacious laundry room.
Sierra walked around the island dead center and found herself staring at a washer hard at work, she took a step to the side towards an unused one.
She opened it before walking away, the dirty clothes tossing themselves inside before a few detergent pods laid on the island launched themselves into it well.
The washer's door slammed shut before it powered on. She moved through the open doorway and took a right turn, passing the garage on her left.
Sierra took a few more steps before hitting a left, passing a small furnished lounge and another left.
The turn brought her past a set of stairs on her left with a living space to her right. She cut through the pantry in front, sidestepping the island with ease before opening another door.
She shifted a few degrees, and the smell of food hit her nose—rich, savory, warm, just like the person who made it.
There sat Ikade, perched at the dining table, eating with one hand while doom scrolling through her phone with the other. The TV played somewhere further back in the main living room, its light flickering over the walls of concrete, stone, and wood.
Sierra pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. The wooden squares of the ceiling above gave the room a cozy texture. She clasped her hands for a moment—giving her blessings and asking for others—and then, without hesitation, she began to eat.
Sierra dug into the bountiful harvest of food in front of her. She grabbed her fork and her other hand reached for a few slices of homemade bread, dipping one into the sauce.
Her utensils clattered, and she took a swig of red sake with real gusto. The pasta waited below, covered in a heavy sauce that supported the chicken on top, sprinkled with a few greens.
She ate and ate until her chest felt heavy from the food, Ikade peeked at her every once in a while—the smile on her face never fading.
"Hic!"
Sierra's hiccup echoed softly throughout the living room. Her head resting on Ikade's lap, her eyes half-open and glossy from food and exhaustion. The feline absent-mindedly focused on the TV while her tail curled lazily against the couch.
On the screen, a drama was reaching its climax.
「You promised you'd come back!」
A woman cried, her voice cracking as rain hammered against a window.
The camera cut to a man standing under a sign, bleeding from his side and trying to smile.「I did come back…just not the same way.」
"That line was shitty—" Ikade muttered, flicking a chip crumb from Sierra's cheek.
"Who writes this stuff?"
"Hh-hic! Don't be mean…"
Sierra slurred, reaching for the bowl beside her and missing by a few inches before finally grabbing a handful. "He's…dying. Let him be dramatic."
"He's been dying for three episodes." Ikade adjusted her sitting position, lowering the volume a notch.
"If I ever take that long to die, just shoot me twice."
Sierra didn't respond, a mouthful of chips already in her mouth, her voice muffled while she chewed. Crumbs rolled down her chin and onto Ikade's thigh.
「Don't you see? You were my reason!」
The woman on the screen shouted, clinging to the wounded man.
"Agh, now she's crying again!" Ikade groaned, reaching for the remote.
"No—no—leave it!"
Sierra flailed a hand weakly toward the screen, crumbs falling down to the floor. "I wanna see if he actually dies this time."
"No."
The screen went black, and her hand dropped limply, hitting the sofa. Ikade stood and finished the remaining chips.
"I'm going to bed. I'm too tired to stay awake any longer."
The feline waved lazily at her while she walked away, stepping on the two steps to the dining table. Her tail almost touching the ground.
Sierra stretched her limbs and stared into the ceiling, feeling the blood flow to her head when it pulses.
For a while, she just stared at the ceiling, caught between rest and the pull of her work. Doing nothing would only make it worse—
She pushed herself off the sofa, her feet carrying her through the dining room. Her eyes lingered on the wall of bushes and foliage running parallel to a stone wall. She moved through the pantry stocked with goods, then took a right turn at the first staircase that led upward.
Sierra walked to her old bedroom, a short mission to grab the driver still on the bed.
Quickly, she walked into the room before she grabbed a circular device loosely clothed, still laid in her bed.
She turned around, her driver floating behind her while she walked down the stairs. She moved through the laundry room, and stood in the small lounge. Her eyes settled on a glass door with an opaque center.
Her eyes drifted to the other side while she pushed the door open, only to meet darkness. The cool air from the large garage rolled over her, too much for comfort. Even without a certain thing, Sierra could manage and the temperature warmed to a comfortable degree. .
Her fingers found a switch on the wall and flicked it up. Light flooded the space, revealing her prized possession in full brilliance.
Her eyes adjusted to the light, finding her most recent project on a lift—it was low, sleek and black but its front was gutted entirely, only the wires hanging from its chassis remained.
Even its front suspension was missing, and under the car laid said missing piece. Part of it at least, its steering rack laid on a pallet—the wheels covering the coilovers that stood up.
Other parts lined the wall on her left. Her gaze shifted right, and Sierra found her most recently completed project—a glossy lime-green beast with silver rims. Its rear tapered into the shape of a wagon, even though it wasn't one.
It's rather new body kit giving it weight, most of its side profile in her view before she looked further down.
And farther down, in the soft glow of a the half lit section, sat Ikade's own project—a bright orange car missing its rear bumper, wide wheels jutting from its low stance that was planted to the ground, it's fitment impeccable as it sat on air bags.
But we couldn't forget the shitbox in front of it, the small truck parked parallel to the garage door with its rusted passenger door.
The wall on her far right had once been two smaller rooms, now merged into a single wide space. A large CNC machine occupied the center with its sleek presence. Hoists, chains, clustered boxes, and a welding machine bolted to the wall filled the rest of the room, its cable running up the wall and hanging from the ceiling.
It was long enough to run laps around their home with the garage door tracks changed to fit these parts in.
She walked toward the machines and glanced left, where her equipment for all the different assignments hung on the wall, doubling as storage for other fabrication pieces.
Separated by a thick sheet of glass, the room stood in silence. She slid the glass door open, revealing a table covered with dismantled bits. The space on the other side had been cut off long ago and repurposed for her tools—equipment she had not touched in ages, now buried under dust.
She grabbed the rolling chair to her right, spun it around, and dropped onto it. One push with her foot sent her gliding across the floor, riding the smooth concrete. Sierra drifted to a stop at a table and spotted her laptop.
Sierra unplugged the charger and pointed toward the clustered workstation beside the table. The driver tossed itself onto the surface, and she rolled her way toward it.
She shoved part of the mess aside, making a few items drop between her feet. She kicked them out of the way and opened her laptop.
Her hands reached for a smaller cable hanging from the front of the station, pulling it out from a half broken container.
She leaned to one side of the laptop before plugging in the cable, Her finger finding the power and pressing down.
The screen loaded up seconds later before she smashed the space button, the screen fading into the lock screen. Her button mashing echoing in the room, its background took over and she scrolled around to find a program.
Its icon was that of a paperclip as she pressed it twice, while it loaded—
Sierra stood up, her hands moving over the driver. She grabbed the pouch fixed to its side, fumbling her way to a pin under it, and pulled hard.
Clnkk!
The pin let go before she set it aside in a nearby tray, she dug again and pulled another one towards her—her knuckles bashed into the metal bracket holding it.
She let out a curse and repeated the motion six more times, working through the pouch and the trauma kit. Both brackets began to slide off so she grabbed them and hung them on a nearby hanger.
Her eyes looked at the bare chassis before finding something similar, wrapping her finger through a hoop and pulling as hard to left side, a panel lifted slightly.
Sierra grabbed the popped-up side and pushed left until it disconnected completely. She ignored the wrinkled sky blue cloth—the insulator meant little to her at the moment, and focused on the three dots blinking near the lower right corner. Two were a steady green glow while one flashed red rapidly.
Her soft hum filled the room while she leaned over her laptop, clicking the music icon twice and let her playlist appear.
A song sat paused mid way while she tapped the first track at the top of the list. It started with silence, then connected to the speakers in the room, and the music rose to life.
Let me wake up in your arms, you say it's not alright~♪
She pressed the volume close to its limit. Her hand wrapping around the cable and her palm slid down its length.
She peeked back at the open panel, inserting the end of the rather flat cable into a port right under the glowing lights.
Sierra sat back down and scrolled past a handful of programs and useless files until she found the one she wanted.
It offered a few options while Sierra checked several boxes, scrolling back up and hitting the run button.
The screen blacked out for a moment before a loading bar took center.
Her hands holding onto the metal stock of the driver, pulling it her way. Its weight making it difficult while she stubbornly scraped her workstation—adding one more dent it.
Once the stock slide past the edge of the workstation—an opaque arrow with its tail forming a circle appeared on the right corner of her vision, glowing red.
Her ears caught a harsh burst of air, like a hose disconnecting free from a compressor. A heavy clunk followed the uncoupling.
Something extended from the stock, prompting her to grab the hilt—a faded yellow with black lines on both ends. Sierra pulled on it, and the crumpled white cloth near the hilt began to decompress, rough like stiff fabric. Once she cleared it, a thin trail of brownish-black liquid dripped from the exposed end.
Her left arm shot up and she yanked to the left from her chest, like if she were pulling the cord of a hoodie.
Rrr—Rrt—Rrk!
Plastic wheels rolled across the ground and a cart slammed into her leg.
Sierra set it on the cart, letting the drops hit the plastic instead of her workstation. Two minutes of the song already slipped by. She could hear the sound of liquid moving about inside the driver, barely audible air bubbles running through its length to which she paid no heed.
Her eyes drifted to the container hanging from the workstation, rummaging through the bundle cables until her fingers closed around a small box.
Opening the box—two chips laid in place, Sierra grabbed one and inserted it in a port within her laptop.
A soft sweetness drifted into her nose and her mind barely registered the warning.
She pulled up another program that waited for her input, grabbing the other chip and lifting her hand behind her left ear.
She fumbled around, touching one already in before finding two empty spots.
A small drop of green slid down in front of her eyes. Her head tilted forward and it clicked into place after a few failed attempts.
A prompt blinked into view between her eyes before accepting the terms.
A few lines of code flickered across half her view before compressing into a single line. It slid over and up next to its sibling that had become yellow, a tiny chip in the center flashing red.
Her laptop screen began to fill with lines of information before another window overrode it, pulling her eyes toward the new display.
Sierra leaned in to read the test report, each line swallowed by her mind. A few parts needed maintenance but those had enough life in them.
The report was fine for the most, except for its low oil pressure which she already knew about—the most concerning was its cooling pressure crashing too much for her liking.
The leak kept dripping, forming a small puddle. Her gaze glancing to the half-dismantled driver, green fluid still slipping out of it.
"Wut?!"
If she'd had water in her mouth, she would've done a spit-take over the keyboard. Sierra rolled closer to the cart and snatched a handful of shop towels from below, wiping her workstation and stuffing a few under the leaking tube.
"Auuh! I literally changed you! C'mon..."
Her voice dropped with defeat and displeasure. She grabbed her head with both hands, fully aware she'd already tried to fix it once and knew exactly how much of a pain it would be.
Sierra glanced around her workstation looking for a wrench and a braker bar to provide more leverage.
Quickly, she grabbed them and put them in front of her and slipping on a fresh pair of latex gloves. The next song already playing loudly throughout the garage.
She stuff a few towels under the fitting before grabbing the wrench and carefully catching the hose. Sierra would rather not damage it, considering most if not all of the tubing on her drivers were aftermarket.
Its braided shell purple, grey and black shimmed as she used the braker bar.
With a push, using her weight—the fitting loosened when she bashed her knuckles onto the desk. The glove doing little to help while she rubbed her bruise.
"Dammit!"
She calmed her nerves before walking to a few boxes flat against the wall, opening them to grab some O-rings.
Sierra further unscrewed the fitting while the leak began to get larger, with a sudden pull—it came loose forcing her to yank the old ring stuck the head, both gloves getting covered in slippery liquid.
Their was no need to lubricate it since the spilling coolant was enough, She set the fitting back into position and tightened it to her limit.
She took a couple of moments to tighten it with the wrench, then looked toward the other end of the fitting, sitting barely an inch from the cable.
She pulled one glove off and freed the cable from the port.
The cover would hide the fitting, so there wasn't much more she could do. It held one regular fitting and one quick disconnect and she Sierra couldn't remember why she put it that way.
Another hose was shoved under the one she'd just fixed, wedged deeper inside, while the other end was covered by another panel—that fitting and panel was one piece.
Sierra's eyes flicked toward the two blinking yellow chip icon in the corner, dismissing both after reading what they were..
Sitting down, she grabbed the flash light from the cart and illuminated the empty spot at the back of her driver.
The fluid looked clean with no metal flakes anywhere in sight. She promptly slid the tube back into place—a tube full of potential, a battery pouch.
The most ingenious of names, courtesy of not her.
She stood up and reached higher toward the back wall, her fingers closing around the hose coiled on its holder. She pulled the lever near the nozzle and brought it closer to where the scope would sit—if the driver had been a normal firearm.
She pressed down with forearm, forcing it in despite the awkward angle. If Sierra had checked her neck, she would've seen a small green light rapidly flickering while the driver's exposed inner barrel begun to spin.
Both the oil and water pumps whirred to life. Sierra squeezed the lever parallel to the ground, listening to the pump overhead pushing coolant through the driver.
The hose pulsed sharply with a metallic click while a drop down appeared from bottom right of her vision, lines of information flashing through the low oil and low coolant.
The pressure began to climb for booth, only removing the nozzle once it had enough coolant in it.
She stared at the fitting for any new leaks, the hose rising back up on its own.
The spinning barrel begun to change to a glossy dark brown like if it was oxidizing, it was nothing bad so she ignored it.
Sierra waved her hand like swatting at a bug with the information collapsing into a smaller form.
Her shoulders started to stiffen and promptly yawned—the time on her bracelet marking sixteen thirty two, midnight had only been up for a little while.
With her gloves removed, she recoupled the light weight metal cover back onto its body. The body resistant enough for most conventional attacks.
Sierra grabbed her pouch and trauma kit still stuck on their brackets, giving them a firm yank after attaching them to the driver.
The barrel soon enough stopped spinning itself, she opened her pouch and took out the useless waste that remained inside.
The bola gun near the battery pouched seemed intact, the outer metal a dark black with the inner metal was a dull silver. It appeared more like a thin suitcase but was good enough to do the job.
A long but thin cocoa colored handle ran its length near the bottom, the only way to remove it from its case. She had used this particular model for several months and seemed to hold on well, the rest of her firearms were also placed in the same manner.
The back of her head pulsed briefly, her driver levitating while it flipped to the other side before hitting the desk with a thunk.
Her crossbow had been working as support, making it slightly easier for her to refill the coolant, its case seemed scratched, alongside the other stuff.
She grabbed the handle and pulled harshly to un-collapsed it, raising an eye brow before she pushed it back in. Sierra yanked harder and it also did the same thing.
"A few scratches never killed anyone." She muttered, rubbing her eyes through another yawn.
Under it were two other battery pouches. They looked fine, so she pushed her focus somewhere else—them alone were longer than her arm.
Her gaze flicked to the two particular objects angled forwards, a dull red with a black matte handle at the top with their flattened bodies.
"Grd...dry powder..."
"Hahhh..."
Her sigh came out soft, leaning back onto her chair while she covered her face with one arm.
Her mind ran to somewhere and nowhere, the exhausting creeping to her back.
It had piled enough that a few strands had become white and gray, the assignment had been going well—until it didn't.
Sierra spun the chair, her hair catching the wind as she came to a stop.
"I can't do this forever." She said to no one in particular, the music drowning her voice out.
"I'll die if I keep this up. I won't even make it to eighty. So much for living a hundred and fifty."
She reached over and closed her laptop, the music stopped at the same time. Her fingers grabbed the chip in her neck and yanked it out, tossing it next to the laptop.
Her mind and heart already aware how much she needed to sleep properly, her muscles still sore but better than the past week.
Their was no cure yet a numerous amount of treatments that only amounted to a dammed pill and rest.
Her eyes faired a bit better, only suffering mild bouts of discomfort with the occasional blurry vision and short sightedness.
"I'll... do the rest tomorrow." She muttered. "I just need sleep."
Sierra stood up, already done for the day as she walked out the door. Dragging her feet through the garage and into the house.
The silence inside was heavy, the garage would soon cool down. She passed through the secondary living room—more of a lounge now than anything else, and crossed straight toward the hallway opposite to the stairs. Each light she turned off plunged another piece of the house into darkness.
The room was split in two with a bathroom joining both sides, but she didn't care for the layout. She moved through the repetition alone, brushing her teeth half-asleep.
Her eyes drooped shut before she even rinsed. When she lifted her head, her reflection looked back like with those cool eye. She stared for but a breath, then shut the lights.
Her feet carried her to Ikade's side. She slipped off her slippers and crawled beneath the covers, wrapping her arms around the feline's waist. Her face finding those fluffy feline ears, the faint scent of warmth and home filling her lungs.
Her spirit yearned for the warmth of something familiar, closing her eyes to shut her mind off.
Sierra's shoulders relaxed, joints stiff and in pain like every other day. Who needed pain killers when Ikadium was a thing.
"fhh—hh..."
"Mmhh..."
Her eye's fluttered open, her pupils slowly adjusting to the light with the bedroom around her was blurry, something that had becoming increasingly common these past few weeks.
She burrowed herself deeper, Ikade no longer at her side and her heart turned slightly blue.
Only made worse by the fatigue her body felt, her muscles ached lightly as she turned to her right.
A pillow landed softly on her face, its padding offering some relief.
She pushed the soft pillow away with her head, her tufts becoming unruly and uncomfortable with Ikade perched above her.
It was the mischievous feline in the flesh, her half lidded eyes with a soft smile. Wearing a simple, long sleeve knitted sweater—cream colored with a light brown skirt that reached her calves.
Ikade backed away before pushing a bit of hair behind her ear.
"So?" Ikade asked, voice light with mild amusement.
"What's the verdict?"
Leaning over a bit, showing off the gentle curve of her charm when she clasped one hand over the other.
Part of her hair covering her feline eye.
Sierra voice came out muffled, covered by the blanket weighting her down.
"Thanks...for the treat."
She rolled her legs, the blanket sliding off her form while the sunlight hit her face. Ikade had wandered to the restroom, rummaging through drawers for something.
Pushing herself up to her wrist feeling tired, Sierra rubbed on it before getting off the bed. She swung her feet off the bed to catch her slippers.
Sierra stood up once both feet caught their prey, walking to their closet and opening it up. The doors swung open.
She pulled out a big blue and fluffy jacket, having to pull its side that barely fit the drawer. Sierra scrimmaged for a pair of pants, which she found rather quickly.
Its was a straight fit with some wear and fade from usage, She crouched to open another cabinet, fishing out a crop top the same color of her eyes, though a little duller, the fabric rough to the touch.
The clothes landed on the bed in a soft pile. She slipped into them quickly, tugging her jacket straight before she checked herself out. The crop stopped just above her belly button, her necklace still resting against her chest, the faint glint of the vial catching the light.
Ikade appeared behind her, brushing her hair with lazy intent while she walked closer. Without shoes, the difference in their height was obvious—Sierra had her three inches over her.
They both sat on the bed when the mattress dipping under their weight. Ikade hummed softly to the brushing of the tufts above Sierra's head, bundling them back into their own bundle.
Her eyes flicked downward for a moment, catching the faint curve of skin peeking under the Sierra's jacket—before she quickly looked away.
A sigh escaped her lips, she'd lost a battle she was fighting alone.
Sierra lifted her wrist, tapping the only screen on it.
January 14, 1635 CE
News played on the screen for background noise. It was nothing much as Ikade grabbed the small vial of oil at her side before she begun to preen the feathers, giving them a coating of oil.
It did not take much time for Sierra to find herself brushing her teeth, washing the toothpaste out her mouth, applying some deodorant and put band-aids back on her wrists—already injecting herself with her lifeline.
Her feathered preened, free from grime and old foliage.
When she was done, she sent a message to Ikade who was in the dining room.
Sierra took her ass to it dining room and grabbed one of the bread slices. The two of them chatted about nothing on the way to the garage, the feline already holding the keys and handed them to her.
Her brown pouch and the white one in her little workshop, courtesy of Ikade.
They passed the door, Sierra eyeing the small dot in the middle of her vision, opaque like every other thing as she focused on it—it had a car silhouette in its center. And not a moment later, the garage began to push open outwards.
"Let's take mine."
Sierra said, already walking ahead.
"I haven't had much time behind her lately."
They both climbed in as they buckled themselves up inside the lime green car, its tan interior a tease to the eyes.
Pressing the clutch and pushing handbrake down, she turned the key as it cranked to life in all of its six hundred and ninety two horsepower. The car idled for twenty seconds as she crept forward, bleeping the throttle as it front lifted slightly.
Once out, the light bouncing off the concrete below—she passed her Alfi parked at an angle near the front door, the garage closing shut when they passed the gate.
Sierra coasted forward, her foot pressing deeper, and deeper. The RPM climbed, the growl of the engine swelling through the cabin until the exhaust screamed back at the world. Ikade's ears flattened instantly while she laughed in pain with delight, covering her soft ears.
The smile on her face unchanging as she giggled away, and once she let go of the throttle. The stutter of her set up tickled her ear with its distinct tone.
The car got onto the street when she found the chance, annoying everyone else as a few people recorded their car.
The flames leaving the rear almost touching the front bumper of another, the highway was relatively nearby as Sierra rode the car to her tune.
What was once supposed to take forty minutes, double as they drove around the car—fooling around and they'd had gotten carried away, which eventually became bloody.
Spitting rubber and punches, even finding herself be slammed onto the ground.
But that was a story for another time. Ikade sipped through her straw while music played inside the car, the two of them waiting for traffic to budge. They were barely five minutes from their destination, so Sierra made the executive decision to pull into the parking lot on her left.
She paid ahead for an hour and let the car roll into a corner spot. Shutting the engine off and slipping it into reverse, before pulling the handbrake.
They got out and started walking to the familiar building which took five minutes.
"Theirs a lot more...police this time huh?"
Ikade took the last sip of her drink before tossing it in a nearby bin.
"Mmmhm."
Sierra lifted her jacket, scanning the line of parked cruisers.
"All these festivals been making it hard on the locals this time around."
Their feet took them to their destination, walking through the normal looking building and getting closer to the receptionist.
"Sup."
Sierra announced, her tone sounding uninterested and not meaning to come off rude.
Sierra waved at the receptionist, walking past him without stop. Only getting a grunt back when she pressed the elevator call button.
A chime rang out when the elevator doors slid open. She stepped inside while Ikade pressed the button for the fifth floor. The first time she had seen what was above nearly gave her a heart attack.
Ikade, of course.
"Cant you take us up there Ikade?"
Sierra asked while staring at the number in front of them increasing, her tone flat and bored.
"Nope!" Ikade said, drawing the pause out on purpose just to make her wait. "Doesn't work that way." A sly grin tugged at her lips.
"How can I go through something that isn't there?"
Sierra sighed softly at the response.
The door opened up to a rather normal looking place, looking to some degree better than a semi prestige hotel.
If it weren't for the number of people sprinkled around—others like her who'd only recently returned and were using the time to breathe—she would've felt the weight of the place even more.
Most people wore regular clothes, a few dressing a little flashier. But no normal person would wander in here—not once they looked past the glass wall on the right, lined with weapons.
If they even managed to get on.
A few short blades, a handful of different modeled crossbows, three firearms consisting of two pistols and a rifle, but mostly populated by modernized staves of all makes. Most of them recreational but still functional to some degree.
A few disassembled weapons and older pieces of gear leaned against the wall like a set piece. Nobody paid them any mind—no one here needed to pretend.
She made her way through, nodding or offering small smiles to the familiar faces scattered around. At the end of the hall, she slipped through a door and stepped into a small bar where food sizzled on the stove. She gave her quick hellos before following the curve of the building and pushing through the next set of doors.
What stood before them was a handsome man in a neat suit, and beside him a much larger man with black hair. Both were of the canine variety, their tails swaying lazily. Sierra was sure she'd heard their names before, but there was no shot she was going to remember them now.
None of them said a word when she walked past them, her eyes flicking to the bushy beard covering part of the taller man's face. He wore a chest carrier, his rifle tucked under his arm and resting along the length of his side.
Sierra ignored the sturdy shield rest on the well dressed man's leg, it was s faded color with deep marks and depressions riddling its center.
She knocked once and, without waiting for a reply, pushed the doors open. Ikade at least had the decency to announce herself.
"Yo!"
"Hello."
Ikade said, waving with both hands like a polite student trying to balance out her partner's ignorance. Sierra waved her hand lazily, not even raising her arm all the way up.
Their voices overlapped, the difference in tone vast as their personalities.
There sat a man in a cluttered but spacious room, a few folders sat on his side while he clicked on a keyboard. The interior was furnished rather well if not aged in a way that pleased her eye.
Two children darted out from behind a couch, rushing past Sierra and wrapping their arms around Ikade instead.
"Y'know...can you at least let me respond before you barge in."
His voice was slightly hoarse, his once navy blue hair had started to become grey. His canine ears still greyed out.
"Why would I ever do that?"
Sierra titled her head slightly, the grin forming on her face made the man wish he could wash it with soap.
The man looked at them—eyes that were painted with a dull green and full of experience, his physique had thinned down but was otherwise healthy for his age.
"Why cant you be like little Ikade?"
She clenched he teeth when her grin faded, her pointy canines glared at him in a rude manner.
"How has your day been, Edo?"
Ikade started talking while Sierra muttered to herself, but the two men kept their conversation going, brushing right past her that left her faintly wounded.
"Its been well, Maria is shopping today so she wont be back till later."
Edo's accent was barely even a thing anymore, all these years and it was no longer the same—it was a nightmare to talk to him when she had first started dealing with him, every word becoming a puzzle she did not want to solve.
"I'm your daughter you know? You could at least pretend to care."
She let out a protest, turning her head aside, cool and exhausted eyes boring into him as her hand rose to her chest. Sierra wondered how far she could get away with pushing it this time.
"I'm sorry—which one again? There's so many of you that I cant be bothered to remember everyone's name."
Edo stared right back, their gazes clashed like a well oiled machine, one she had contributed years of her life to.
Sierra clicked her tongue and reached for Ikade's bag, yanking it open before the feline could react.
She pulled out a folder and tossed it him way, ignoring the kids still clinging to Ikade's legs who was struggling to contain their childish energy.
"It's the guy's packet." Sierra said, shrugging as she paced in a small circle. "I wasn't able to catch him, so I just gave up."
Her voice turning matter of fact, going an octaval lower with each word.
She threw her hands up, leaning to her left as her arms stretched out forward—her hands opening up like the jaws of a beast, Edo's head in the middle. "I don't even know how he managed to survive down there without anything to help him."
"I was so—close!"
Her voice rose with frustration before snapping her hands shut with a clap, Edo's head disappearing behind her hands as her eyes focused on the closed jaw.
Although Sierra complained, their was nothing left she could do when Ikade pulled out a small bag of goodies before handing them to the two kids who swiftly ran away—the boy taking off with the little girl chasing after him.
Edo grabbed the packet before adding it to the pile next to him, the space becoming quiet until he opened his mouth.
"So—" He said, looking up at her. "Are you okay?"
Sierra blinked, her eyes looking his up and down behind the wooden desk.
"Hhah? Why wouldn't I be?"
"You just look tired, the greying hair you wish I never noticed—" Edo gestured, running his hand at a grey patch of hair. "—you're turning into...me."
She looked absolutely disgusted with his words—mortified even, her whole body recoiling and she took a step back.
"Ew, please don't say that."
Her eyes bore into him like if he were but an insect, no—a pile of shit was what he was.
He leaned back in his chair with that old man look that made her want to disappear into an alley and throw up.
"You know, if I were thirty years younger—"
"Stop. Stop right there."
Ikade looked away, pretending to cough into her hand.
Sierra threw her arms up to her side as she pivoted one eighty degree's. "I'm leaving before I throw up."
"I'll see you in a couple months."
She pulled Ikade who waved one last time, twisting her body around as their eyes meet through the closing door—the smile on his face gone, the only thing sitting down on the worn chair was an old dog.
"Old man."