Trellis

3

The weather is lovely as I make my way to the Needle, located smack in the middle of the busiest part of the city centre. I'm attracting a lot of stares, mainly because even with my most decent clothing, I still look like a tramp. 

There's a woman waiting for me in the lobby of the Needle. Quite considerate of them. She forces a smile and leads me into the glass elevator. I have only been in an elevator once. They had to wash bits of my lunch off the floor. I gulp as it starts to ascend.

We stop near the top of the building. She leads me along a corridor lined with polished doors. My footsteps are muffled by the red carpet. The floors are polished. I check my reflection in them. Hopefully, they don't arrest people for absolutely despicable dress sense.

My guide leads me through one of the doors, indistinguishable from the rest but for the small plaque on the door. It's a conference hall. Way to calm my nerves.

There are only four people inside. I'm used to feeling diminished everywhere I go, but one look at these kids' faces show me that they are, well...children.

The first is a boy, standing by the window, looking out, as if trying to pick out a certain individual from the crowd of commuters below. He's quite tall, sandy-haired, with eyes that seem to be smiling all the time.

The second, a girl. She's sitting at the head of the table, resting her chin atop her intertwined fingers. She's won the genetic lottery: red hair, blue eyes. Several strands of those hair seem to be floating, stirred by a phantom wind. She's looking at me. Her eyes widen, and I look away.

There's another girl in the room, right behind the door. She's dressed in all black, matching her hair and general demeanour. She's beautiful by modern standards, though she seems to be trying very hard not to appear so. Shrinking into the wall, she scowls. I can tell that it's her usual expression.

And the last...

He stretches a hand towards me. I take it, not wanting to be rude. He smiles, casually blowing a strand of hair out of his face. Those dark eyes, if not for the twitchy, calculating look in them, would be warm, the eyes every single romance writer goes crazy for. He's obviously overdressed for the occasion, in a dark suit with a striped tie. Adjusting that tie, he bows.

'Miss Kasseida. I see you've arrived.'

Aye, and water is wet, but I smile back. 'Charmed.'

'I'm Rima Yvet. Kertel, Intiga? Dreis? Don't be rude.'

Grudgingly, the girl by the door unfolds herself and nods to me. 'Intiga Ley.'

Not shifting from her position, the redhead mumbles 'Kertel Cresswell' and goes back to staring at the wall.

'Dreis Hallett, pleased to meet you.' This one, at least, makes an effort to grab my hand. Alarmed, I jump back, stuffing my hands back into my pockets. I know I must look scruffy compared to these finely-dressed youngsters. I didn't use to care about looks so much. Why did I, now?

They're pleasant young people, I think. Nice enough to not turn their noses up at me. The bare minimum. I'd been taught to feel that I deserve it. 

Hallett initiates conversation. 'So...the mission.'

Yvet laughs. 'My father received a similar task when he was my age. It's become a sort of a rite of passage in my family. I hope I pass. He's hinted at cutting my allowance if I don't, and getting rid of "that obnoxious feather boa" if I die.'

This draws a chuckle from the redhead. Cresswell. Ley looks from Hallett to Yvet. 'And you think this is a game?'

I find myself agreeing with her before I stop myself. Yes, these are reasonable, decent young people, who have benefited from the very system that kept me in my place. It's not their fault, of course, but I feel a certain bitterness all the same.

I think I know where this is going. 

Every five years, two boys and two girls are selected from the most prestiged families in Arcadia to complete a superhero training program in stead of the usual year of boot camp. Strangely, this event coincides with the appearance of a political enemy of the Arcadian government, which turns out to be the very same person the children must defeat in order to pass.

The death toll has been pretty high in the past century, and they're dealing with a hacker, four kids, who, from obvious signs, have zero experience in coding. Poor kids. 

It still doesn't mean I'm going to do all the work for them willingly, though. 

It's strange, how they would want to send children from the most loyal families to their deaths. A different idea of honour, maybe?

The door opens again, and a man strides in. Yvet straightens up, no longer feeling left out in his fancy suit. The stranger smiles, placing a folder on the table in front of Cresswell. She doesn't leave her seat. Shrugging, he sits in the chair to her left.

'Welcome, protegees, resident hacker. I am the Mayor of Gretya. Now, I'm pretty sure you know the general direction this mission goes in. But I'm thinking, we should start with a briefing. Take a seat.'