Iridescent

Chapter IV - Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here

Sing, sing, little bird

Let your little wings take flight

Let your little voice be heard

As you fly through that long night

Sing, sing, little Nova

Let your tiny spark grant light

Let your life breathe ambrosia

As you burn through that long night

I finish humming the first part of the old poem. My mother made it for me when I was very young. It’s one of the few memories I have left of her. The original was very brief, just long enough for my simple mind to learn and sing along with her as she lulled me to sleep. “Nova’s Lullaby”, she called it. Rather ironic, considering she can give me a unique, creative name but not her own poem. I silently snicker at the thought.

Sing, sing, little blade

Let your sharp edge cut their rope

Let their broken spirits fade

As you snuff out their last hope

Sing, sing, little knife

Let me sink you in a neck

Let me carve you out a life

As you gift me my next check

I hum the last piece of my poem. I added onto it throughout the years, letting it grow in the same way that I grew. It represents who I was, and what I became. In retrospect, it's rather silly - I never claimed to be good at poetry - but it's carried me through many traumatizing ordeals. Every agonizing moment of torture was spent in my headspace, humming my lullaby, as I conceptually boxed every sensation of physical pain and locked it away in a mental vault.

"Wait a minute." Record scratch. I interrupt my own thoughts, turning to Corvus.

"What?" Corvus asks, startled.

"What did he mean by that?"

"Who? By what?"

"Bryant. 'They won't need the numbers when they get the firepower'?"

"He did say we'd find out soon enough."

"Right. What did he mean by that?" My expression is confused and somewhat alarmed.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Corvus says as the elevator comes to a halt.

Another mechanical whine as a set of doors beneath us open, allowing the elevator through. As we descend into the open maw, the walls disappear, replaced by a large surrounding frame as the gears continue to steer us downward. As we exit from the under-city's ceiling, we get a very broad view of the surrounding landscape. Frozen, bleak and barren. A desolate wasteland compared to the lower-city. Dunes of ice and snow cover every cracked street and decaying building.

I've only been to the under-city twice; once for a separate drug shipment, and once to hunt down an assassination target that thought they could escape me in this hellhole. Neither of which led me anywhere near the sewer system. Both times, the landscape hadn't been nearly as bad as it is now. It's always been treacherously cold, with snowstorms roaming aimlessly, however this looks more like a permanent blizzard than a mere snowstorm.

"Looks like the weather-control systems are failing." Corvus says over the shrieking wind. The sudden drop in temperature sends a chill down my spy.

"No, they've definitely failed completely." I reply, crossing my arms against the cold. "I've never seen it this bad before."