GOLDEN AGE | ON HIATUS

XXI | NARCISSA

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THE SLUGGISH JOLT of the vehicle was the only thing keeping her awake at this point. Every few moments there was a slight screech of the tyres, followed by the desperate purr of the engine as mud rose up, sprinkling the sides of the black Sedan. The driver, some higher-up Crux agent that Director Singh had trusted enough to drive her, cursed as he tried to push the car out from the crater it had lodged itself into, to no immediate avail. That was until the car bolted forward, causing Narcissa to follow this motion and almost give herself a black eye as her seatbelt whirred and stretched, the stick shift mere inches from her face.

Releasing a string of swears, she fumbled trying to sit back up, her cuffed hands clumsily grabbing at the storage compartment between the two front seats. She could only imagine what was inside -- weapons, some fancy technology that Crux hadn't yet unveiled to the board of National Security -- things Narcissa's engineering mind could only dream of. She missed the small room she'd had back in the Nakamura Manor as a kid, the pretty-much-closet in the last apartment she'd rented, places where she could connect fizzing wires and hissing machinery together with only her uneasy mind to keep her company.

Unable to resist the urge to look over her shoulder, she turned around in her seat, half-expecting to see a hand poking out from the trunk and seizing her by the neck; but only the sight of a dismal grey blanket, threadbare and cheap, greeted her, a dingy wave from an uninvited crowd. Swallowing, she forced herself to pivot back and face the front, where an open country road stared glumly back at her, riddled with potholes that looked bottomless in the bleary evening light.

Rural Pennsylvania wasn't the prettiest sight, especially not in the dump that barely enveloped Semper City. Where other places might've had lush greenery and laughing children, farm boys playing by the river, here there were fields. So many goddamn fields -- they were everywhere. Sometimes their dull beige would be replaced by an even duller grey as the Hartsicke River slowly prodded past, its waters musty and dense from the pollution wafting over from Semper, but that wasn't enough to entertain Narcissa as she twisted and turned in the backseat.

Director Singh had insisted on them going to Wolverhampton, a small town on the city's outskirts, with intelligence that there was something going down in their pub -- which slowly came into view, a few old-fashioned cars parked outside as well as some dirty trucks. A sign dangled from above the doorway, creaking as the driver opened the door for Narcissa and took off her handcuffs with a beep emitting the metal. With a frown down at the small gadget, she rolled out the kink that had settled in her neck, the fierce wind making her eyes water as she gingerly took a step toward, bones creaking.

"I don't appreciate you staring," was the first thing that left her lips with Finn's arrival, the bronze burn of his gaze leaving a scorching trail on her skin. A warm shiver ran down her spine, but Narcissa stifled it as she pressed her body against the door of the dive bar, a deafening creak making her wince.

"Wasn't," Finn answered under his breath, keeping his eyes trained on the face of his watch as shadows crept over his face and sharpened every edge. Shooting him an exasperated look, her stomach clenched and Narcissa made her way to a pool table in the centre of the dimly lit room, the green felt of it almost black in the waning orange-yellow light. The lack of a bouncer half-surprised her, but given the bar's remote location, she knew that she should've expected it.

This was the place for bad things, nothing else -- it was too far away from the highway to be a pit stop, nor close enough to Wolverhampton's main neighbourhoods to be of any use to its citizens. Narcissa was well-acquainted with bad things in bad places, and she knew very well that this was the place where drug deals, weapon trades and turf wars took place, not to mention a breeding ground for espionage.