The Conflict

Chapters

Resolution
Path A) Aria Blaze
Path B) Lightning Dust
The Conflict
Author Notes

Resolution

It was a sunny day outside the three-storey house, bright sunlight glistening off the many puddles left in the yard. Lightning sat at a round table, staring bleary-eyed into her half-full mug of coffee. She idly scratched at one of her bandages, then tentatively took a sip, wincing as the hot liquid touched the places where teeth used to be. Birds chirped in the tree outside the living room window and steam drifted from her mug.

Slowly, she turned her palm up. The skin was smooth, but a red hue now existed over a certain, familiar spot. She rubbed the spot with her fingers, a thoughtful frown on her lips.

Soft footsteps caught her ears. She didn’t look up.

A bunch of forms landed on the table, scattering slightly as they did. Aria, no less bandaged, gingerly sat at the chair perpendicular to Lightning, a soda clutched in one hand. She popped the tab and took a long pull. That done, she grabbed a pen from the center of the table and started on the first form.

Lightning raised an eyebrow, set her mug aside, and grabbed a form. It was a job application. She blinked at it, then peered at Aria’s. Hers was for the same job. Shifting through some of the forms, she realized they were all job applications, and there were two of each.

Lightning looked at Aria. Aria looked back. The siren offered an uncertain smile, shrugged, and went back to filling out the form.

Back in the kitchen, Adagio started frying eggs in her banker's uniform. Upstairs, Sonata was just crawling out of a bed drowning in stuffed toys.

Eventually, Lightning grabbed a pen of her own.

Path A) Aria Blaze

It was a wet day. It had been a wet week. It wasn’t raining now, but ominous clouds overhead maintained constant threat, and everything around Aria remained soaked from the last downpour. Her arms were laden with plastic grocery bags as she kicked at a water puddle in her path. Droplets danced through the air in brief life, but they provided her no joy.

Thunder rumbled overhead. Aria reaffirmed her hold on the bags and sped up.

It was a nice area, if one liked big privacy walls and houses worth more than most people would ever make in a lifetime. Well-maintained blacktop roads, neatly trimmed hedgerows; any house under two storeys was an anomaly and a sign that the owner only barely qualified to live amongst such class.

The house Aria approached was not single storey. Nor was it two. Though not the biggest house in the community, it certainly reeked of ostentatious self-importance, with its column-bordered front door and solid red brick exterior and two-story windows. Aria kicked open the gate, the force of the blow leaving yet another highly notable scratch on the paint, and ignored the flagstones to march across the untrimmed grass. It took some effort to open the front door, but at least she hadn’t had to use a key. In a neighborhood like this, who needed to lock a door? She kicked it closed just as the first raindrops began to fall.

Her ears were graced with a very faint hint of sound from upstairs. Music, some orchestral piece. It kept stopping and replaying at a specific point only to end entirely at around the time Aria finished putting the bags on the kitchen table. She reached in to grab a package of Oreos, then headed for the living room to collapse on the couch, spike-bottomed boots crossed on the armrest. Popping the first cookie in her mouth, she stared listlessly at the high, wooden ceiling as the rain outside began to come down hard.

Faint footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“Ugh, would you take your boots off before you lay down?” Adagio, dressed in a loose-fitting t-shirt and silk pajama pants, passed the back of the couch, not even gracing Aria with a glance. “In case you’ve forgotten, we can’t afford a maid anymore. You dirty the upholstery, you clean the upholstery.”

“Whatever.” A second Oreo met its doom with a crunch.

The ginger-haired fussbucket’s parting shot was a disgusted scoff. Another, louder one echoed from beyond the door to the kitchen. “You didn’t even bother to put the groceries away.”

Aria took her time with the next Oreo, pulling the two pieces apart and eating the one with the most icing first. Raindrops streaked across the windows.

“We were alive before freezers were invented. You might recall how amazed we all were that such a thing could exist in a world without magic. Why would you leave the cold items out like this?”

She licked the last bits of icing off the opposite wafer, then set it on her tongue. With it pressed to the top of her mouth, she let her saliva slowly do its work, the flavors gradually coating her taste buds. Hands on her stomach, she stared at the ceiling with dull, bored eyes.

The sound of the refrigerator closing. Soft footsteps. Adagio appeared in the door. Hands set to hips, she glowered at the lump on the couch. “Where’s the receipt?”

Aria shrugged and didn’t meet Adagio’s gaze. She reached for another Oreo, but Adagio stole the package away. The smaller woman made no attempt to take it back. Thunder rumbled as the rain pattered quietly against the windows.

Adagio’s lips pursed. “You shoplifted again, didn’t you?”

Another shrug.

“For fuck’s sake, Ria!” The package slammed onto the end table, Adagio's eyes bright like daggers.

Aria rolled her eyes and finally sat up, though she still slouched. Arms crossed, eyes on the window, she at last offered her opinion. “Nobody cares about shoplifting anymore. People get away with it all the time.”

“That’s not the point!” Adagio gestured with both hands at her sibling-in-all-but-blood. “I’m sick of your attitude. We have to live normal lives, and that means paying normal bills that right now we’re barely affording.”

That earned her a raised eyebrow. “Remind me which one of us funded Morrissey’s political career.”

The grinding between Adagio’s molars might have been audible were it not for the weather. “I don’t have a gambling problem anymore, Ria. Every major loss we’ve had in the last 140 years was either bad luck—”

“I think there was more to the Great Depression than just ‘luck’.”

“Aria.” The elder between them paused whatever rant was about to come out of her mouth. Instead she took a few seconds to rub at her temples and take some calming breaths. “What is with you? I’m working six days a week at the bank and trying come up with fresh music despite the loss of my voice. Sonata’s got it the worst – she was born with a singing voice, unlike us – but she’s still churning out forty hours at the bar. All you do is mope and commit petty crimes.”

The younger between them shrugged yet again, the motion making Adagio’s eyebrow twitch. “I’ve been committing petty crimes for a thousand years.”

“Yes, when we had our pendants and could get away with that kind of crap.” There came a sudden quiet, as if the words had a physical impact on the both of them. Adagio reached up as if to touch something on her neck. Pain and loss flashed across her features. It was only for only a moment, a moment in which Aria turned her face away with a hunched back. Then the fiery steel returned. “But we don’t anymore. We can’t sing at the cops to get them to let us go, and we can’t afford bail money. The lives we used to have? They’re over. It’s time we all grew up, and that includes you.”

Turning to glower at her ‘sister’, Aria dryly asked, “Didn’t I just remind you that I’m over a thousand years old?” They both ignored the brief flash of a headlight and the roar of a motor from the driveway.

“Then maybe you should act like it for a change, hmm?” Adagio flipped her massive head of hair with a look of utter disdain. “Do you not care? Do you want us to lose the house?” The engine outside died.

“We paid off the house in ‘52.”

“And they can still take it if we stop paying our other bills! We are just one disaster away from losing everything. Do you understand that? Aren’t you worried?”

Aria’s lips pursed. She held Adagio’s glare for several long seconds, hand clenched into a tight fist. Furrows formed along her brow as a smoldering mulberry fire lit behind her eyes.

Then the front door slammed open, and a wail doused the growing blaze. “I-it’s gone! It’s gone!”

Adagio’s face twisted into a complex blend of annoyance at a fight interrupted and fear of a fresh disaster. Aria’s remained firmly in the realm of thoughtful frustration. It was a second before the elder of the two allowed concern to become her priority, and so did Adagio turn and hurry for the front door. Aria allowed herself a moment to press a hand tightly over her heart.

Then she followed, through the kitchen and into the greeting room. A thoroughly soaked Sonata was on her knees, hands wrapped around her middle and tears streaking her already wet cheeks. Her riding jacket was a mess of mud and grass. What held Aria’s gaze was her little sister’s throat, blue skin all the more so from a vicious bruise.

Adagio was on her knees and grasping the girl’s shoulders. “Sonata, what happened? Come on, girl, talk to me.”

“My pendant,” the youngest of the three cried, pressing her forehead to her elder’s shoulder. “She stole my stone!”

Aria and Adagio both tensed. The latter reached for her own throat, as if to protect something. The former’s hand moved to touch her jacket, but stopped herself. Aria’s lips set in a thin line, fists clenched tight.

For a long second, Adagio appeared in a state of shock, eyes growing wet and lips hanging open. Then she wrapped her arms around her sobbing sibling. “It’s okay, Nata. It’s alright.”

Aria’s voice was harsh. “Did you fight back?” She ignored Adagio’s glare.

“I t-tried.” Sonata shook her head, one hand going to rub her stomach again. “She was t-too strong. My stone. Home. My v-voice. I’ll never—”

With a gentle shush, Adagio rocked her gently. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’ll weather this. Let’s get you a hot bath and I’ll take a look at those bruises, hmm?”

“B-but my stone—”

“What about the stone?” Aria crossed her arms with a scoff. “They’re useless to us now.”

Adagio’s eyes sparked. “Ria—!”

“What? They are.” Flipping a pigtail over her shoulder, Aria glowered at her companions. “None of us want to say it, but they’re broken. Shattered. Caput. So who cares if some bitch stole one? She stole trash.”

Still choking down tears, Sonata tried to burrow deeper within Adagio’s protective embrace. Adagio moved as though to rise, only to rethink it and instead keep her arms wrapped around Sonata. Despite the comforting posture, her eyes spoke of violence. “How can you be so heartless? Those stones helped us survive for a thousand years. Sonata crafted them with her own voice!”

“Then she should have fought harder for hers.”

Sonata shuddered. This time Adagio did rise, though she held the trembling former siren against her side all the same. Cradling the back of Sonata’s head with one hand, she glared down at Aria, shortest of them, with all the imperious fury of a goddess. “If that’s how little you care, then you can get out.”

Aria blinked. And again. “Excuse me?”

“I said: get out.” Adagio removed her hand from around Sonata’s waist to thrust a well-manicured fingernail at the door. “If you don’t care about anything, then we don’t need you around. You can come back when you’ve learned to respect our situation, and us.”

The two stared at one another, a repeat of their earlier bout. One firm, fierce and commanding, the other wide-eyed and intensely still beyond her heavy, hot breaths. Aria broke eye contact first, her fiery gaze shifting in equally fiery thought. Hands balled into fists yet again. Finally, she turned and stomped for the door, slamming it behind her so hard that all three floors shook.

The rain was still coming down. Aria was soaked within seconds. She stood in the yard, ignoring the water dripping down her chin. Her scowl promised imminent violence, but there was nothing nearby on which she might target her fury. Turning to her right, she eyed the closed garage door. Then the motorcycle – her motorcycle – and the helmet discarded in the grass a few feet away. She marched closer; the keys were still in the ignition.

In an act of pure physicality, she lifted the bike and slammed it back down, now facing the road. It took only a moment to adjust the helmet to her size and bundle her pigtails within. The engine roared to life and, with a squeal of wet tires, she disappeared in the thick haze of an autumn downpour.

The restaurant and bar’s name was Arpeggio’s. It was seventy-six years old, opened by a man who used to call Aria ‘Little Miss Grinch’. That man had been dead forty years – liver cancer, of course. There were new owners now, unrelated to the old, who wouldn’t recognize that the young woman who worked the bar five days a week had been there on opening night too, along with her two ‘siblings’.

Aria’s bike was parked in the alley. The downpour had by now become a quiet drizzle, heavier drops tap-tap-tapping from the gutter pipe to the concrete depression below. The former siren herself stood beside the back door, hands in her pockets and eyes on things no person alive today could recall. Her lips set in a pout as the back of her boot beat a quiet rhythm against the brown, aged brick.

The turn of a latch. The door opened, blocking her from view of whoever was coming out. A slight turn of the head allowed her to watch as large trash cans on rollers rumbled onto the rough concrete. The door closed while a pudgy teen got to work dumping the contents into the steel trash container. Sickly green skin, unruly dark orange hair. He had on an ugly brown apron, some clear plastic gloves, and safety glasses. She didn’t blame him for any of the precautions: the tubs reeked of old cooking grease and the other common byproducts of restaurant fare.

She caught him by the shoulder, spun him around. Snips had all of a second to register his assailant before she had him pressed against the wall, shoes dangling a few inches off the concrete.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa! Don't hurt me!” Then he recognized the face a few inches from his own and fear became bewilderment. “Wait, ain’t you Sona’s sister?”

Aria’s lips curled up at the nickname, showing her teeth. Her words had the ferocity of a leopard. “Listen up, kid. Sonata talks. She knows you’ve been checking her ass while she works the bar.”

Black pupils shrank. He squirmed, but made no attempt to free himself. “I-I was just l-looking, there’s no harm in that!” Wide eyes went to the door, but it was closed.

“You also start your shift at around the same time she leaves, right?” When he only whimpered, she let go of his shirt with one hand to grab one of the still-full trash cans and roll it closer. The loss of a hand for support did nothing to lower his elevation.

His eyes followed the motion. Even in the faint hiss of the rain, his gulp was audible. “Y-yeah, I usually do. What about it?”

She peered into his paling face. “Did you know she got mugged today?”

Blinking rainwater from his eyes, he wiped them with his arm. When the arm fell, he appeared pained. “Oh, yeah. I saw it. I was gonna call the cops, but she left before I could finish dialing 9-1-1.”

Aria’s eyes blazed. Her grip on his shirt tightened. “Who did it?”

The fear came back ten-fold. “No way! I know that woman, she’s insane! She’d kill me, and I don’t mean the you-fem-istic—” One hand went to his groin, and both arms lifted. He yelped, grasping at the lower of her wrists as she pulled him from the wall and began tipping him head-first towards the trash can. “No, wait, don’t!”

She held him over the sickening morass of leftovers, his hips on her shoulder. His legs kicked wildly. The leopard gained in viciousness. “Tell me who ‘she’ is, shitstain, and I might consider not dunking your sorry, pimple-crusted face.”

“Okay, okay! Her name’s Lightning Dust!” He grasped at the sides of the trash can, trying to push it away, but it was pinned between the container and the wall. Paleness crept across his features as the foul stench struck his nostrils and made his eyes water. “Her father’s some retired big-time racer! She’s a CHS student but she never shows her face at the school!”

Aria shook him, threatening by demonstration. Her question snapped like a whip. “Where can I find her?”

“Uh, uh, um—” Snips visibly fought back the urge to vomit. He pinched his nose, his next words coming out nasally. “She lives on… Oh, crap, I don’t—” Another shake. “I’m thinking, I’m thinking! Oh, God it stinks. It’s— It’s— First Trotter’s Street! I-I think it’s the third house on the left. Maybe, I remember seeing her go inside there a few times, I think she had the key. Two-storey place, screen door, ugly yellow paint job!”

A second later found him back on his feet. Brushing him off, Aria offered a polite, “Thank you for your cooperation. If I find out you lied—” Whipcord muscles bulged as her fist flew, stopping with pinpoint accuracy less than an inch from his nose. Or rather, where his nose would have been if he hadn’t collapsed into a sitting position against the opposite wall of the alley.

“I told you what I know, I swear!”

“Good, then you’ve got nothing to worry about.” She turned for her bike, paused, turned back. The trash container was open, a long iron chain with a padlock dangling from one of the lids. She grabbed the padlock, closed it on the last link of chain, then pulled the chain from the lid's handle. Leaving the teenager trembling in the wet concrete, she returned to her motorcycle and opened the cargo box behind the seat. The sight of a familiar blue purse gave her pause, but only for so long. The chain rattled next to it in the box and the lid slammed closed. She only waited so long as was required to put the street in her phone’s GPS and slip on some earbuds before pulling her helmet on.

For the second time, the bike roared into the mist and rain.

It wasn’t that the yellow was ugly, it was that it was ancient, peeling off the walls to reveal the equally ancient siding underneath. Only half of the gutter was attached, one end dangling and dripping onto some untrimmed azaleas that were the only bright part of an otherwise unkempt, uncared-for lawn. The upper floor was about half the size of the lower and looked like it might collapse into the bottom at any moment. All in all, the whole building gave the impression of a sulking, fat man on the edge of barfing.

This wasn’t a cheap neighborhood. All the houses around this one were clean, squat, and friendly.

Aria didn’t move straight for the ripped screen door. Instead she spent some time wrapping the chain around her left arm. The padlock dangled a couple inches from her wrist, the last length of chain clenched tight in her palm. Only then did she approach, not bothering to avoid the puddles in the cracked sidewalk. She kept the chain behind her back.

The rain had stopped, but the sky remained ominously gray. Her knock on the doorframe was loud in the quiet of the peaceful neighborhood. Within seconds, weighty footsteps approached. Aria’s hand clenched around the chain, padlock swaying as she adjusted her stance slightly.

The door, heavily scratched at around kicking level, opened with a squeal of hinges. There stood a man in a beat up, fur-lined bomber jacket that might have been green once. The man’s hair might have been green once too, but at this point was mostly gray. The shape of his body suggested he had been a powerful individual in his prime, but middle age had clearly caught up with him if his paunch was anything to go by.

Tiny pupils in amber eyes stared through the ripped screen door, past Aria into nothing. His expression was bland. Blank, as if there was nobody home. The eyes eventually found Aria, and the air left her lungs. Fingers fell limp, allowing the chain to dangle from her arm and sway in the faint post-rain breeze.

His voice was as dull as his expression. “Can I help you, miss?”

“Uh…” In the breath of a moment, the former siren blinked at him. The phone in her back pocket vibrated. With a sharp shake of her head, she reasserted her firm gaze and reclaimed the padlock in her palm. “I’m looking for Lightning Dust. I was told she might live here?” The phone went quiet.

The man didn’t so much as blink. “My stepdaughter is not here at the moment.”

“Right.” Another breath of careful consideration. “Where did she go?”

“She went to run an errand, then to meet her—” Still, there was no expression. The man merely stared for a few seconds, as though he’d forgotten he’d been speaking at all. Then, just as suddenly as the stop, “—loan officer.”

Aria’s fingers lost some of their grip again. “Loan officer?”

“Yes,” he monotoned. “Lightning Dust owes a substantial loan. Payment is due very soon.”

She eyed the man. Then the house. The neighborhood. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Her phone began to buzz again. Refocusing on the man, she asked, “Did she have a stone? A ruby?”

Without hesitation, “Yes.”

Air caught in her throat. Only until the phone went silent again. “A whole ruby?” She used her thumb and middle finger to imitate holding something between them. “About this big?”

Again, no hesitation. “Yes.”

Aria swayed on her feet. She had to take a step left, a puddle of water splashing loudly at her sudden presence. The hand not behind her back went to touch the inner pocket of her sleeveless jacket. She stood there for several long seconds, long enough for her phone to buzz and stop again. More thunder, a slow growl from the heavens.

The man watched all of this in utter silence, pupils tiny and fingers twitching at his sides.

At last, Aria found her center. She moved as if to step forward, paused, remained where she was. Her knuckles were white around the padlock.

“Is the ruby here?”

The tiniest shake of his head. “No, ma’am. Lightning brought it with her.”

A grunt channeled almost all her frustration in a single curt burst, accompanied by the chain-wrapped arm jerking in a barely stymied but very aggressive motion. Her phone buzzed. Teeth grit – inhale, exhale – “Where is she meeting this loan officer?”

Where are you? You need to be careful. Someone broke into the house while Sonata and I were out. They took my stone. I don’t know where you keep yours. They might have taken it too, you need to come home and check.

*beep*

Aria, this is important. I know you don’t give a crap about the stones anymore, but you matter to us. Whoever took the stones, they might know there are three. They could be coming after you now. Call us, and watch your back.

*beep*

By the Great Song, Aria, pick up the damn phone! I don’t know where you are because you refused to get that fucking tracker app. What if you wrecked the bike and are in a ditch somewhere? Stop being such a stubborn child and call me back!

*beep*

H-hey, Ria. Um, Adagio’s really mad, but she’s just scared, you know? She’s talking to the cops right now. The place is a mess. I don’t know why that woman wants our stones, but… but they’re just useless rocks now, r-right? You don’t care about them, so… So neither should we. *sniff* So don’t worry about it, okay? We’ll be fine. Just… come home. I’m sure Adagio will be happy to see you again.

*beep*

Rain was belting down again. The visor was streaked with water. The engine roared as she passed a slower truck, fingers clenched tight on the handlebars. Teeth grit, lungs replaced by bellows, heart thump-thump-thumping in her ribs. It was the rough road and the crack of thunder that was responsible for her shaking. Nothing more, nothing less. She pressed on the gas, turned the corner—

Headlights.

The world swerved, tires squealed. Water splashed across bike and rider as a rearview mirror flashed past her helmet. Asphalt became sidewalk became grass, but somehow the bike didn’t tumble. A dirt trench indicated the wobbly path as the bike came to a sudden, jerky stop next to a blatantly ignored speed limit sign.

Aria didn’t move. She was too busy breathing. In the bike’s left-side mirror, she watched the Buick pick up speed and disappear around a corner.

Rain pattered atop her helmet. Shoulders trembled and heaved.

Ripping the helmet off, she threw it into the grass at her feet. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she ran her hands through her hair. A few stumbling steps, and then she was sitting with her back to the sign’s pole, elbows on knees and head in hands. Her breath hitched, choked, fought against the sobs as the rain drizzled down her arms. Eventually, vibrating hands reached into an inner jacket pocket.

She opened her fingers to find a jagged mess of ruby shards in her wet palms. She stared at them through burning mulberry eyes. Hands pressed shards to heart as she fought back another sob.

Her phone buzzed. She didn’t answer.

Overhead, the clouds started turning black. Something within flashed.

The sun couldn’t be seen through the overcast rainclouds, but the darkening sky indicated that the day was coming to a close. The motorcycle purred as it prowled the commercial district, which was mostly empty at this time of the weekday. The cinema was in sight, and she made sure to peer down every alley and side street. Her visor was raised so that streaks of water wouldn’t obscure her vision.

A flash of red caught Aria’s eye and sent her heart to racing. She jumped off the bike. Leaving the keys in the ignition, she barely remembered to move it onto the sidewalk before breaking into a run. Water splashed beneath her boots. The red light was fading. She moved faster. Faster. Faster.

Her shoulder slammed into the alley wall, the side of her helmet barely impacting the plaster. There: in the alley were two women. One was about Aria’s height, green-skinned with swept back blonde hair. The other was taller, bulkier, and tanned. The bigger woman, dressed in black jeans and a tank top, stood back-straight with arms at her sides, staring at nothing.

The blonde was handing her something red.

“Hey!” Lightning Dust started at Aria's shout, spinning around to face the new arrival. The white-haired stranger didn’t so much as twitch. “Give that back right now!”

Lightning Dust grimaced at the approaching former siren. “Who the hell are you?”

Aria cracked her gloved knuckles, eyes promising pain. “You kicked my sister’s ass. Now it’s your turn. But if you give me back the ruby, I might consider going easy on you.”

Still the white-haired stranger remained still.

“Is that so?” Lightning’s grin was predatory. Stepping forward, she raised her hand. “We’ll just see about that.”

Aria froze. Wide, disbelieving eyes took in a perfect, wholly intact red gem. It was embedded in Lightning’s palm, the skin around it puckered and pulsing. So busy was she taking in this sight that she didn’t notice how brightly the gem shined until that light washed over her. Crying out in frustration, she raised her arms to block whatever was coming.

The red glow faded. Aside from the constant pattering of the light rain, all was silent. Aria tentatively lowered her arms. Her eyes were wide… and confused.

But not as confused as Lightning appeared. She shook the hand with the ruby, looked at it as if she didn’t know what it was. “What the hell? Why didn’t it work this time?”

The uncertainty faded from Aria in an instant. Hands balled into fists. Her body vibrated, but not from anger or any other emotion. This was the shivering of someone with more energy than she knew what to do with. She began her approach, arm starting to pull back.

Lightning noticed, stepped away with a grimace. “Fine,” she growled. “We’ll do this the hard way. Gilda, take her out!”

The bulky woman reacted in an instant, spinning around to face Aria in a low, aggressive pose. Only now did she notice a pair of eyes with tiny pupils and a long, absent stare. A fist, supported by a muscular arm, smashed into the face of her helmet with enough force to send her onto her back. The helmet smacked the ground, and then Aria was getting up. Already, ‘Gilda’ was on her, face hideously blank as she attempted to kick Aria while she was down.

By the time Aria came out of her roll, Lightning was past her. She saw the woman slip by, but was too busy blocked another punch to do anything about it. Her bones ached from the impact. She blocked another, another, a fourth, stepped into the fifth. Her helmeted forehead cracked into her assailant’s chin, making the head snap back; she kicked one of Gilda’s legs against the other and, while the big woman was unbalanced, used a palm strike to slam her against the wall.

A familiar engine roared. Aria’s eyes shot open wide yet again as she turned to the sound. “Son of a—!” She had just enough time to see her motorcycle drive away, Lightning flipping her off with a smug grin.

Then a muscular arm was around her throat in a sleeper hold. Kicking boots rose off the ground as Aria tried slamming her elbow into her opponent’s side a few times, but the most she got for her effort was a faint, toneless grunt. She snarled and, with what little breath she could muster, snapped, “Stop it, let go!”

Which is exactly what happened. Aria stumbled forward a few steps with a gasp and spun around, fists raised. Gilda merely stood there, staring at the wall above Aria’s head with indifference. Her arms were once again limp at her sides.

Aria held her fighting posture for a second. A few more. No attack came. Gradually, she relaxed. Her pigtails broke free, dangling near her knees, as she took the helmet off. Peering, she snapped her fingers in Gilda’s face. There was no reaction. She poked the woman’s rugged collarbone. Still nothing.

After a few more seconds of looking around in puzzlement, she asked, “Why’d you stop attacking me?”

The tiny pupils looked through her. “Because you told me to.”

“Huh.” After a moment’s indecision, Aria raised her hand. “Give me the ruby.”

Without hesitation, Gilda reached into her pants pocket and produced the stone. She placed it in the waiting palm and went back to standing as still, fingers twitching at her sides.

Aria brought the ruby up to her face. Her breaths came in slow, deep gasps as she took in its shiny essence. Deep within was a faint light, pulsing and strong and whole. Reverently, she pressed the stone to her forehead, eyes closed and lips pursed. The ruby was pleasantly warm, and a smile grew on her lips. “Adagio…”

Eyes popped open. Her free hand went to her chest, felt against the hidden pocket. The air fled her lungs at the bulge. Frantically, she reached inside her jacket and pulled the object out. Another ruby, perfectly identical, perfectly whole.

A moan escaped her throat. Tears flowed freely. She kissed the second stone, held both of them close. Laughter mixed with hiccuping sobs and she fell back against the alley wall, wobbling legs barely able to hold her weight.

The siren remained that way for a long time, gems pressed tight against her skin as the rain blessed her with its masking moisture.

At last, she looked up and towards the road. The tears had finally ceased, as did the shaking. Her lips moved to no sound, but an observer might have been able to read them: ‘Sonata’.

The two rubies disappeared within the jacket’s inner pockets. Aria turned to the ever-staring, ever still Gilda. “You. Go home.” The tall woman turned and walked away, her arms swaying slightly and her eyes as vacant as ever.

Out of a back pocket came Aria’s phone. She looked up at the pouring sky, saw how dark it was, checked the time. Getting late. Swiping the lockscreen away, she hit up a familiar contact. The phone rang five times, went to voicemail. She canceled, tried again. And again. And again. She kept this up for some time, losing count of the number of attempts.

Finally, as the clouds began to shift to an orange hue, someone picked up. “Who the hell is this?”

Aria’s lips were curled in a scowl. “You have something that belongs to my sister and me. I want it back.”

A moment’s pause on the other end. “Damn, did you beat Gilda? Guess all those muscles were just for show.”

Walking to the end of the alley, Aria felt at the gems in her jacket pocket. “I got the one you stole, and I’ve got my own. You want them, you’ll have to take them.”

Another long pause. Aria stopped at the sidewalk and looked up at the roiling storm clouds. The sky grew darker.

“I’ve got my own,” Lightning confidently replied. “What do I need yours for?”

Aria’s response was as threatening as the blaze in her eyes. “As long as you’ve got my sister’s, I’m going to chase you. As long as I’ve got mine, I’m immune. I can stop you. I am going to stop you. We can do this now or we can do it later, but it’s going to happen. So what are you, Lightning Dust?” Her eyes narrowed, her voice harsh and accusing. “A fighter, or a fucking coward?”

A sharp intake of air sounded over the speakers.

“Fine. We’ll do this your way. Name the place.

“I’ll be there.”

She picked up before the first ring ended. “Aria! Where the hell are you? Sonata’s worried sick!”

The rain was pummeling down, shrouding the world in darkness.

”Aria? Aria! Answer me. Don’t tell me you fucking butt-dialed me.”

The high school seemed to loom in the night. The motorcycle was already parked, the engine still warm.

“I’m fixing things.” Aria opened the storage box. The blue purse was still there. “I’m fixing everything.”

”What? Aria, I can barely hear you. Are you out in the rain?”

The chain was heavy in her hands. She began wrapping it around her left arm.

“Tell Sonata I’m sorry for being such a bitch.”

For a time, the rain and clinking metal were the only sounds. The padlock fit neatly in her palm, weighty and strong.

”Aria, what’s going on? Please, talk to me.”

She lifted the purse out of the box, which she closed. Reaching into her pocket, she took out one of the rubies and pressed it to her forehead. After a moment, she smiled.

The ruby went into the bag. “Track Nata’s phone. I left a present for you.”

”A present? You’re starting to worry me. Ria—”

She ended the call, slipped the phone into the bag. Mulberry eyes peered through the downpour, taking in the roof of CHS. A flash of lightning might have illuminated a figure up there.

One last breath. Purse held gently under one arm, padlock gripped tight in her hand, she moved for the front doors.

The glass had already been shattered.

Path B) Lightning Dust

Lightning stuffed her hands in her brown, fur-lined bomber jacket and kept her head low. Her eyes didn’t quite meet those of the tall, white-haired woman before her. “I told you, I need a delay.”

Gilda was taller than her, with eyes possessing the sharpness of a hawk. The water dripping down her crossed arms and off her elbows accentuated thick muscles. Her voice was raspy as she coolly answered, “I’ve given you delays. Five months’ worth of them. I’m sick of your delays.”

The smaller woman said nothing. She hunched her shoulders against a cool breeze and glared at Gilda’s combat boots.

“Look, kid, it’s basic economics. You took out a loan, you repay it. I’m not the government; I don’t give out freebies. You said you could pay me back. I trusted you at your word. Fifteen G’s, and I’m barely charging you interest.”

Lightning tensed at the amount, her lips curling in a silent snarl. Her cheeks were pink. “Look, I’m sorry.”

A fist grabbed her t-shirt, jerked her close to the bigger woman’s vicious features. “Sorry doesn’t mean a thing! You’re the one who took out a loan you knew you couldn’t pay back. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? You thought I was a fucking charity, that I’d just walk away and give all that money up. But that’s not going to happen.”

The hard shove slammed Lightning’s back painfully against the brick wall. She stumbled, righted herself, and raised her fists.

Gilda thrust a finger in her face. “I’m giving you one more shot, bitch. Get me a payment before week’s end, or I’ll take my payment from you in other ways.”

Lightning grit her teeth, but gave no answer. The older woman stared her down for a few seconds longer before turning away with a huff and stalking off. Within seconds she’d rounded the corner and was out of the alley.

Standing quietly in the rain for a while, Lightning stared towards the road with a seemingly permanent scowl. Had anyone been in the alley with her, they might have noticed the thoughts broiling away behind her eyes. Hands back in her pockets, she headed out of the alley and stalked along the sidewalk. Thunder rumbled overhead as the rainwater soaked her to the bone, the jacket doing little to protect her from the seemingly endless deluge.

She came to a parking lot in front of a strip mall. Continuing over the potholed asphalt towards her bicycle, her eyes took in the stores before falling on a sign that read Arpeggio’s. A restaurant and bar, located at the end of the strip mall. The parking lot was mostly empty save for a trio of cars and one motorcycle that looked like it belonged on a race track.

Lightning’s frown grew more pronounced. She took a step towards the bar, paused, looked around the parking lot. It was just her. Her and the rain. She pulled a hand from her pocket and stared at it, clenching and unclenching her fingers. With a breath not quite a sigh, she turned to the larger of the two trucks, put it between her and the bar, and waited.

Time passed. The rain intensified, let up, nearly stopped at one point. Two vehicles drove in and parked, their drivers headed to the bar. One customer left, a big guy who looked like he wrestled bears for fun. He certainly appeared sober; Lightning kept the big truck between the two of them until he’d gotten into his own and left.

The bar’s door opened. Out strolled a teenager, blue with a ridiculously long ponytail. Given the semi-formal skirt-suit, an employee. Certainly sober. She spoke cheerily back through the door, opened an umbrella, and headed straight for the motorcycle. Lightning’s eyes zeroed in on the blue purse.

Her fist tightened.

“Great, now my butt’s gonna be wet all the way home,” the girl groaned upon reaching the bike. “Stupid Adagio, not letting me use her car. I hate riding Ria’s bike.” Pouting, she opened the small box on the back of the motorcycle and made to put her purse inside.

“Hey.”

The woman turned around, blinked up at Lightning. “Huh?”

Gamboge eyes narrowed over a scowl. “Gimme the purse.”

It took less than a second for understanding to dawn in the girl’s face. She turned sideways, placing her body between Lightning and the purse. “What? No. I’m not doing that.”

“Yes, you are.” Lightning’s fist rose between them. “Right now.”

The blue woman took in the fist and Lightning’s serious face, her own slowly losing confidence. In a manner that was probably meant to be subtle, she began to reach into the purse—

A hand whipped out, caught her by the throat. “Don’t.” The fist pulled back.

The girl swallowed. Slowly, so very slowly, she pulled her hand out of the purse. No, not a hand; a fist, clutching something.

Lightning’s eyes caught the faintest hint of red. Her attention honed in on it. “What’s that? Give it to me.”

The teenager’s pupils dilated. She tried to back away, but Lightning’s fingers on her throat and the bike behind her prevented it. “N-no. Not that. You can take the purse, okay? Just not—”

Lightning lunged, catching the small wrist. The girl screamed, tried to pull away, slapped at Lightning’s arm. “No, please no! You can’t!” She ripped her arm out of Lightning’s grasp and pulled whatever she was holding close to her chest. A cry was on her lips as she turned to the bar.

A fist impacted her gut.

Eye boggled as tears beaded. Lips gasped for air. The teen collapsed to her knees as her umbrella dropped to the asphalt. Her arms wrapped around her stomach, but still she clutched the item. A plastic bag.

“Stupid girl.” Lightning grabbed the bag, but the teenager refused to release it. She tried to pull it away, nearly ripping the plastic while her victim mouthed voiceless pleas. “Damn it, let go!” Lightning pressed her shoe against the girl’s shoulder and kicked.

As the teenager splashed backwards into a waterlogged pothole, the bag finally escaped her grip. Lightning held it up to what little light the rainy, cloud-covered sky could offer and took in a dozen tiny ruby shards. Still scowling, breathing heavy, she studied her find. The rubies were dull, the sharp edges suggesting a shattering of some kind.

When she lowered the bag, her eyes landed on the bar. Through the windows was a single face, puke green with a pair of wide, black eyes.

“Shit.” She looked down at her sobbing victim, who was trying to stand. She hurried to kick the girl back down, then made a grab for the purse. The girl was laying on top of it. When she couldn’t get it away after a tug or two, Lightning instead reached in to grab the first thing her fingers touched. Then she speed-walked away, stuffing the bag and item in her jacket pocket. The girl was hidden by the rain by the time Lightning heard her calling. She ducked into an alley, stood behind a trash can, and waited.

The girl didn’t pass. After a while, she heard the sound of a motorcycle starting up. When the sound of its roar faded away, she pulled out the item. It was a wallet. Stuffing it back into her pocket, she took out the bag of ruby shards and peered at it.

“You better be worth more than you look.”

The garage door was open, revealing empty space. Lightning chained her bicycle to the mailbox.

After gathering the mail, she trudged through the rain, jerked open the screen door and gave the main door a kick in the spot where so many old and new scratches marred the paint. It swung open with no resistance at all. She marched into a kitchen with a floor missing a third of its tiles, a sink spilling over with dirty dishes, and a heavily stained table with five chairs, no two of the same design and all looking like they couldn’t hold a kitten, much less a teenager Lightning’s size. She slapped the mail on the table and went to open a drawer near the ancient, battered oven. It was empty. Scoffing, she eyed the stains on the towelette on the counter for a couple seconds. She turned back to the table, still soaked, and began sorting through the mail.

Bill. Bill. Sales ad. ‘You’re pre-approved for a $500,000 loan!’ “God, these people must think we’re stupid.” Another bill. A truck magazine; she tucked that under her arm.

Her hands hesitated when they held up an envelope from a rehabilitation clinic. She ripped it open, pulled out the letter, skipped the technical details. Her shoulders sagged when she spotted four words in large, bold print: ‘Debt paid in full.’

She let out a long, slow breath. Nodding to herself, she let the envelope and letter fall to the table. Eyes closed tight, she pinched her nose and sighed. Then did it again. Rain pattered loudly on the kitchen window. Had she opened her eyes just then, she might have noticed the roach skittering fearlessly over the dirty plates in the sink.

Lightning left the kitchen and entered the living room. Ugly brown carpet crunched under her sneakers. A TV that might have been older than she was sat in the corner, turned off. Two leather recliners, both covered in food stains, faced it. The large window was hidden by curtains, but she could still detect the outline of the bars on the outside. Her eyes went to the nearest recliner, accompanied by a fresh scowl. Then they fell on the table between the two chairs.

She hissed at the sight of a pair of empty syringes, plungers down. A rubber band and a swab was nearby.

Lightning swung her fist sideways. The wall rattled with the impact.

Magazine dumped on the table, she stomped into the hallway. Past the towering display case with its many trophies, past the autographed baseball bat hanging on the wall, past the first closed door. She entered a bedroom at the end of the hall, the walls covered in posters of rock bands and fighter planes. It was the cleanest room in the house so far. She dumped the ruby shards out of their bag and onto the computer desk, followed by the wallet.

After the bag was tossed in her small garbage pail, her eyes went to the alarm clock on the floor next to the futon. “Ah, fuck.”

At a fast walk, she went back to the living room and snatched up the needles, rubber band and swab. She swung open the back door under the stairs and dumped them in the trash bin just as the sound of a truck engine arose from the garage. “Ah, fuck.” Back inside, to that closed door in the hallway. She reached for the doorknob, hesitated.

The truck engine died, and she pushed the door open. “Mom, you gotta get up. He’s home.”

The room was dark. It was mostly taken up by a queen-sized bed. Her mother lay on her back, hidden in the shadows. Lightning grit her teeth and kicked the woman’s bare foot. “Damn it, get up!” No response. Clenching her fists, Lightning crawled on top of the bed. “I swear to God. Mom!”

Blank eyes stared at the ceiling.

Lightning paused. Took in the blank visage before her. Old bruises against lightly tanned skin were visible even in the shadows.

“Mom?”

Her finger snapped in front of the eyes. There was no response. She gave the woman’s shoulder a shake, to the same effect. Finally, slowly, she pressed her fingers against the exposed neck. They held there for two seconds. Five.

A loud voice called through the house. “Jewel? Where are you, woman?”

Lightning pulled away, climbed off the bed. Her back pressed against the wall as she gazed, wide-eyed, at the body. Breaths came in sharp gasps as her hands rubbed together again and again.

“Jewel! Damn it, your bastard is bad enough running wild out there, the least you could do is answer me when I call.”

Lightning’s eyes went to the door. To the body. The door again. Heavy footsteps came closer.

She rushed out the room, nearly running into the tall man. He blinked down at her, uncomprehending. She barely spared him a second before making a break for her room. It slammed shut behind her. The lock clicked. She shoved open the closet door, pulled out a suitcase and began stuffing it with frantic speed. The items thrown in were random – clothes, CDs, an old toy fighter jet. Her hands grabbed whatever they came across in a frantic rush of instinct and desperation.

A sound arose from the hall, something between a startled cry and a gasp.

Then came the shout. “Lightning Dust, what did you do?”

Her head shot up as something slammed against the bedroom door. Tears beaded over her open, panting lips.

“Open the door! You open the door right now, you little bitch! Take what’s coming to you! This is your fault, you hear me? This is your fault!”

The footsteps pounded away. Lightning, fists tight at her sides, let out a snarl and looked around. The window had bars. To the futon, to the closet, to the suitcase. Her lungs pumped, making every breath a heave. Thunder bellowed. Somewhere beyond the door, glass shattered.

Lightning hurried to the desk, dropped to her knees and pulled the bottom drawer all the way out, tossing it aside. Underneath where it had been was a set of screwdrivers. She grabbed one without looking, rushed to the window, threw back the curtains.

Something began to bang against the door. “I’m gonna make you pay for her, bitch. You hear me? I’m gonna make you hurt every day for the rest of your miserable life!”

The window slid up. Rain, now a heavy downpour, re-soaked her already wet face. She pressed her cheek to the metal, straining and failing to see under the sill. Trembling fingers felt along the metal, found the screws, guided the screwdriver into place.

The banging kept going. Again and again, something slamming in a steady, heavy rhythm. The cracking wood was louder than the thunder.

“I’m coming in,” snarled the creature outside the door. “I’m coming in.”

Bang.

“I’m coming in.”

Bang.

“I’m coming in!”

Crack.

The first screw came loose. Shaking her head in a futile attempt to get water out of her eyes, Lightning felt for the next one.

“What the—? Get away from that window!”

She looked back. There was a hole through her bedroom door. His arm was trying to push through, grasping for the doorknob and its lock. She scrambled for the next screw.

With a loud ping, the screwdriver struck the bar and tumbled from her fingers. She shouted, grasped. Too late; her salvation was lost to the thick, unkempt grass.

The banging resumed.

With a furious snarl, Lightning stood and kicked at the bar. It twisted, and the sudden movement nearly made her tumble sideways. Gasping, she kicked again, and again. Each hit moved the bar a little further along. She tried to kick faster than the banging behind her.

“You can’t get out of what you’ve done!”

The bar bent, swayed. Lightning grasped it in both hands and found it now turned aside easily. She moved forward, twisted to get her shoulders through the gap—

Her eyes fell upon the desk. Upon the ruby shards. They glowed red, the color dark like blood. She stared, wide-eyed, as the pieces began melding together. A second or two of motion, of faint scratching sounds, and then the ruby was whole again. It continued to emit its own faint glow.

Another bang pulled her out of the dazed staring. She cast a look at the door – the hole was much larger – and again to the ruby. Swearing under her breath, she pulled out of the window and hurried to the desk. Her hand grasped the gem—

Lightning shrieked.

Collapsing to her knees, she stared through pain-narrowed eyes as the ruby burned like fire against her palm. Fingers clawed at the pulsating gem as she cried out again and again. No amount of effort could stop the thing from sinking into her flesh.

It ended as quickly as it had begun. Lightning doubled over, holding her hand to her chest and heaving sharp breaths. Tears dripped from her eyes as one last resounding crack of broken wood filled her ears. The gem now embedded in her hand glowed bright.

“I told Jewel when I married her to get rid of you, but no, she just had to keep you around.”

Tears welled in Lightning’s eyes. She pulled back her trembling hand to stare at the puckered flesh surrounding the ruby. There was no sign of any burning.

“Well now mommy dearest isn’t alive to protect you, is she? She’s gone and it’s all your fault.”

The gem pulsed to his words. Fingers clenched. Her lips pulled back to reveal grit teeth.

“And now it’s finally time for you to get what you deserve!”

She looked over her shoulder. He was right behind her, arms raised and autographed baseball bat poised to swing at her head. With a furious roar, she turned and thrust her ruby-embedded hand for his arm.

Red light burst, filling the room. Adult and teenager cried out in tandem. Lightning tried shielding her face, only to realize the light was coming from her palm. Staggering back, landing in a sitting pose, she held the ruby as far from her as she could… but kept it aimed at him. Her eyes were clenched closed, which did little against the brightness.

The glow faded behind her eyelids. All was quiet, interrupted only by the steady murmur of the rain through the window. Something thudded to the floor. Lightning opened her eyes.

He stood in the middle of her room, right where she’d last seen him. His arms hung limp at his sides, baseball bat lying forgotten on the floor. His face was blank, his pupils shrunk to pinpricks as he gazed at nothing.

Lightning stared at him for some time, tense and slightly hunched. Then, slowly, she stood. She waved her hand in front of his face and earned no reaction at all. Tapping his shoulder, flicking his nose, and shouting in his face fared no better. She examined the ruby in her palm before tentatively calling, “Old man?”

The tiny pupils shifted to her. “Yes, Lightning Dust?”

She jumped back, arms raised in a defensive pose. He only stared through her. Not relaxing, she asked, “Why’d you stop attacking me?”

In an eerie monotone, he asked, “Would you like me to attack you?”

“No!”

“Then I will not.” And he was back to staring at the wall over her shoulder. His fingers gave faint twitches.

She straightened her posture, but maintained a wary pose. Another glance at her ruby. Cautiously, she said, “Give me the bat.”

He bent down, picked up the bat, then offered it to her without a word. She took it from him with a jerk, and he offered no resistance at all. She held it in both hands, set her feet apart, reared the bat for a swing…

Nothing. He just stood there.

Fingers clenched tight around the handle. For a long moment, her visage became one of ferocious fury, her breaths growing deeper and deeper. She repositioned, checked the wall, wound up again.

She looked into his eyes. There was nothing there. No anger, no hate. No attention to her or anything else. They were blank eyes. Lifeless eyes.

The bat fell to the floor. “You’ll do whatever I want?”

The monotone came without hesitation. “Of course, Lightning Dust.”

Perplexed, she tentatively ordered, “Then, uh… go do the dishes?” He turned and left the room at a sedate pace, not so much as glancing at the damaged door. “Huh.”

She studied the gem. The open window and the rain. As the kitchen faucet turned on, she went to her mother’s room and took in the body lying on the bed. She stared at it for a long, long time. Emotions drifted across her face; pain, anger, loss, confusion, regret. Mostly disappointment.

Wet, uncertain eyes closed. She heaved a long, slow breath. When her eyes opened again, they were steely.

After wiping her face clean, she marched into the kitchen. He was busy trying to scrub the mold out of a pot with a soapy sponge. The water ran hot, splashing against the pile of dishes. Perhaps half of it actually made it into the sink’s drain.

“Hey, old man.”

He stopped scrubbing at once, turning to face her. His witless stare went over her head. “Yes, Lightning Dust?”

“Cut me a check. Fifteen thousand dollars.”

“Yes, Lightning Dust.”

While he trudged for the study – leaving the faucet on as he did – she went back to her room. Snatching up the wallet, she poured through its contents until she pulled out a card. A driver’s license, complete with address.

“Alright, ‘Sonata’.” Lightning smirked at the gem and its faintly pulsing glow. “Let’s see if you’ve got anymore treats for me.”

The unlocked front door of the three-storey house opened with a faint click of the latch. Lightning grinned and tossed the wallet over her shoulder before walking inside.

The place looked every bit as nice on the inside as it did on the outside. Hardwood floors, tall windows, intricately ornate furniture. The walls had a certain Mediterranean vibe going on with its dark-stained pillars and off-white pink paint. There was even a genuine wood-burning fireplace in the living room made from dark gray stone. Lightning stared at everything around her and whistled appreciatively.

Her eyes went to a large painting on one wall. She licked her lips. On a decorative table to her left was some kind of white statue, the bust of a woman with large, poofy hair. Lightning tentatively reached out as if to grab it… then saw the ruby in her hand. She closed her fingers and turned away.

The search began. Every drawer and cabinet was opened, paintings were torn off walls, furniture knocked over. She went into the empty garage and dumped tool chests. There was a library, and she cast aside every book, occasionally flipping through a few. Her face was a mask of determination.

Upstairs, she found her first bedroom. It had to be the teen’s, given the closet had at least four variants of the kind of skirted suit she’d been wearing when Lightning mugged her. The bed was practically buried under a mountain of stuffed toys, most of them fish, dolphins or other water-based animals. Lightning gave the room only the quickest, most minimal of searches and didn’t damage anything.

The second bedroom had to belong to a sibling, and one with very different tastes. There was weightlifting equipment, the room was decorated in deep purples, and there were weapons hanging from plaques on the walls. Real weapons; the longsword sliced painfully into Lightning’s fingertip when she gave it an experimental tap. She sucked on the small cut and smiled. She was very careful in her search of this room, especially around the pointier things.

The last bedroom was on the third floor and locked; nothing the generous application of a heavy little statue couldn't fix. It was also notably larger than the prior ones. The immaculately made bed could have fit six people, and the walk-in closet was as big as Lightning’s bedroom, though surprisingly sparse on clothes. The bedroom might have reeked of opulence… once, but bed aside it was far too sparse to maintain the image. It had nothing; no vanity, no cabinets, no desk. Aside from the bed, an end-table and a mirror it was downright spartan.

It was here that Lightning found her prize. On an end-table with a picture of three young women – one blue with an absurdly long ponytail – lay the shards of another broken ruby sitting out in the open where any would-be thief might spot them. Lightning opened her palm and compared the complete gem in it to the shards and saw that they matched perfectly in color. But while the gem in her hand pulsed lightly to its own unheard beat, the shards on the end table were inert.

Carefully, she brushed the shards into her other hand, then spent a moment looking from them to the intact ruby. “So why did you fix yourself?” she whispered to the gem, then to the shards, “And how do I make you do the same?”

She spent some time puzzling over this, interrupted only by the rain against the windows and the occasional peal of thunder. Her head rose, eyes lightning up as she examined the massive bed. “If the kid had one, and you have one, then…”

Pocketing the shards, she hurried downstairs and back to the bedroom with all the sharp, pointy implements that looked like they belonged in the Dark Ages. She was every bit as cautious in her search now as she’d been before, but she tried being more thorough. In pillows, under furniture, tossing out clothes in the closet to check the dark corners. She almost started for the weapons on their plaques, but hesitated. Her recently-cut finger traced a long line across the smooth, flat side of a katana. She found herself smiling again.

A new sound rose up from downstairs: the garage door. Cursing under her breath, she rushed downstairs, back through the thoroughly trashed kitchen and living room, and out the front door. In less than a minute she was on her bicycle and riding away, glancing back through the rain in time to see the back of an old BMW before the garage door came down.

Lightning kept going for a block. Two. At last, she stopped her bike in a clean park and went to sit under a gazebo. After running fingers through her wet hair and settling at the not-quite-as-wet picnic table, she pulled out the shards and examined them. A few seconds were devoted to uncertain frowning. Lightning pointed the ruby-embedded palm at the shards, expression twisted in concentration.

Her eyes shot wide when a bit of dark red light emerged from the gem. But it wasn’t near as much as she’d managed the first time, and it puttered out after only a second or two. A check on the shards revealed no change at all. She poked and prodded them, turning them about between her fingers. They stubbornly refused to do anything.

She sat there for a time, cheek in hand and intact ruby in her gaze. Her pointer finger tapped against the gem in a slow rhythm. Every now and then a hard wind would blow cold droplets of rain over her, bringing forth shivers.

Abruptly, she slammed her fist against the picnic table, the bang making the gazebo tremble. Grumbling to herself, she pulled a cell phone from her pants pocket, flipped through contacts and hit the call button. It took only a few rings for someone to pick up, during which Lightning pulled out her wallet and checked inside.

Gilda’s voice was cold as ice. “What do you want?”

The check came out, crisp and neatly folded. A quick glance revealed a fifteen with three zeroes behind it. “I got your money.”

“You—? Already? Damn, girl, I gave you a week.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t need a week.” Lightning carefully tucked the check back in her wallet. “I’m headed to the usual spot right now, if you want it.”

“If this is some kind of trick, I’ll tear your head off.”

“No tricks.” Lightning tilted her head towards the road at the sound of approaching tires. Her lips pursed as a police car sped by, lights flashing. “I can be there in thirty.”

A beat. ”Fine, but you better deliver.” Gilda hung up before Lightning could voice a response.

She glowered at her phone. “Bitch.” Stuffing it back in her pocket, she eyed the shards again. Raising her palm over them, she grit her teeth and tensed. The red glow came forth, brighter and lasting a little longer before blinking out like a faulty lightbulb. The shards remained unchanged. She banged the table again with a snarl, scooped the shards up, and stuffed them in her jacket pocket.

Soon she was back on her bike and making her way through the downpour.

The rain wouldn’t stop coming. Lightning parked her bike near the trash bins behind the cinema and slouched her way to the side of the building. The alleyway blocked some of the wind, allowing her to straighten up a bit. She leaned back against the wall with arms crossed, the heel of her sneaker bouncing against the plaster.

Minutes passed. The world darkened as the clouds overhead grew all the more dense. Lightning’s fingertips rubbed against the ruby, feeling its smooth, warm surface.

Eventually, Gilda arrived from the other side of the alley. She moved at a trot, the pink tips of her white hair plastered against her cheeks. “Damn, this weather sucks,” she grumbled once she was within a few feet. “Show me what you got.”

Lightning wasted no time pulling out the check and handing it over. “There,” she practically spat. “Are you happy now?”

Gilda held a hand over the check, protecting it from the rain, and peered. She blinked, taking in the number. “Damn, you actually did it. I was starting to think—” Her head craned back, then forward again. Her lips slipped into a stern frown. “Wait, did this come from that asshole?” She flipped the check around, then again. Her peering turned on Lightning. “Your old man hates you. Why would he agree to give you the money?”

Lightning’s face twisted, not quite able to avoid a grimace. “That’s none of your business.” Her hand clenched around the ruby.

“It is if the check bounces.” Despite the statement, Gilda folded the check and slipped it into a back pocket. “What did you do, forge it? Am I going to get a call from the police and get arrested for stealing his identity if I cash this?”

Lips peeled back in a snarl. “It’s not a forgery.”

“I have trouble believing you.” Gilda poked her in the arm, hard. “You’ve not exactly been honest with me so far.”

Lightning slapped the hand away, stepping from the wall so that she could properly glare at the taller woman. “I told you I’d pay you back, and I did! Which part of that isn’t honest?”

“You haven’t even paid back the full amount.”

Lips opened, closed. On the second try, Lightning managed to get her voice out. It might have been flaming were it not for the rain. “What the fuck? You gave me fifteen G’s, I’m paying you fifteen G’s!”

Gilda slapped her palm with the back of her hand. “With interest. That’s why people give out loans in the first place, you airhead. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to get the fifteen G’s back – assuming this is real and not some sick attempt to get out of our deal by framing me for fraud – but it doesn’t mean we’re done.”

Lightning seethed in the rain, shoulders hunched and fists squeezed tight. “Damn it, what more do you want from me?!”

“What you owe, that’s it. But first?” The bigger woman, muscles once again made prominent by the rivulets running down her arms, took a step closer. “We’re going to the bank. Both of us.”

A step back. Lightning’s gamboge eyes turned wary. “What for?”

“Because I’m depositing that check right now, and you’ll be right beside me. That way if it is a forgery, they’ll have you on camera.” Gilda snorted in the teenager’s face. “I’m not letting you have plausible deniability. If this is an attempt to bring me down, I’ll make damn sure you go down with me.” She snatched Lightning’s shirt and started back for the road.

“Get off me, you fuck!” Lightning dug her heels into the concrete, but Gilda easily pulled her forward. “Damn it, let me go! I ain’t gotta go anywhere with you!” She squirmed and kicked and punched at the steely arm to no avail.

“Oh, so you don’t wanna go, huh?” Gilda turned to glare. “Why? Because the check’s a damn fake? Is that what’s going on, faker?”

“Shut up!” Lightning tried kicking Gilda’s leg. The woman easily sidestepped it. She didn’t even have to look down. “Why are you doing this to me?” A red glow started to emanate from her hand. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“I knew it.” Gilda’s grabbed Lightning’s jacket and lifted her off the ground, teeth-baring sneer right in the younger woman’s face. “This is all some last minute scheme.”

The gem pulsed. Lightning’s arm twitched. She glared through the rain at that face.

“This is a new low, kid.”

The arm was trembling now. With tension. With energy.

“You thought you could pull a fast one on me? You’re not near clever enough.”

Sneakers kicked at the air fruitlessly. Lightning grasped at the thick arms holding her up. Her eyes drifted to the red glow.

“And now I’m going to educate you about who calls the shots around— Hey!”

Gilda got a face full of red, Lightning’s palm thrust not quite reaching her nose. The bright light engulfed the alley, and Lightning landed clumsily on her feet. Stumbling back, she forced her hand to stay up and aimed, eyes narrowed and teeth grit. A sound like the chime of small bells overrode that of the rain for a second. Two.

The sound and light faded, returning the world to wet gloom. Gilda stared at nothing, her pupils shrunk and her expression void of emotions. The wind and rain plastered a lock of white hair against her face, covering one eye, but she made no move to brush it away.

Lightning moved as if to punch the woman, but stopped short. With a snort, she stepped back. Her words had enough heat to scorch flesh. “Listen up, bitch. You are going to take that check I gave you and you’re going to deposit it.”

Gilda blinked at nothing. “Yes, Lightning Dust.” She started to turn—

“Wait.”

—and faced her again, tiny pupils looking through Lightning’s eyes.

The teenager reached into her jacket pocket, paused as something large brushed against her fingers. A fully intact ruby came out. She stared at it for only a second, shook her head, and thrust it out. “Take this. Get it appraised. Tell me what it’s worth.” Gilda reached out, took the gem—

“Hey!”

Lightning jerked towards the voice, letting out a snarl. At the end of the alley stood a woman in a sleeveless denim jacket. Her head was hidden under a purple motorcycle helmet. “Give that back right now!” Her words were muffled by the helmet, which did nothing to negate their ferocity.

The stranger stalked closer as Lightning grimaced. A glance down showed her ruby starting to glow again. “Who the hell are you?”

The crack of those gloved knuckles was audible even in the rain. Behind the closed visor, eyes promised violence. “You kicked my sister’s ass. Now it’s your turn. But if you give me back the ruby, I might consider going easy on you.”

The whipcord muscle in Lightning’s arms tensed, her hands balling into the familiar, comforting poise of fists. The fingertips of her right hand brushed against the smooth surface of her ruby. “Is that so?” When the stranger was a few short feet away, she stepped forward and raised her hand. “We’ll just see about that.”

Lightning‘s lips curled in a malicious grin as the red glow burst forth. She barely had time to see the newcomer’s eyes widen behind the visor, and then all was crimson.

The light faded, revealing the stranger with her arms raised defensively over her face. When those arms came down, her pupils weren’t small. Her gaze wasn’t unfocused, only confused.

Lightning’s jaw dropped. She looked at the ruby, shook her hand as if to jar it into action. “What the hell? Why didn’t it work this time?”

Movement returned her attention to the stranger. The woman was starting forward, fist pulled back, a muffled cry coming out of the helmet.

“Fine,” Lightning growled, taking a long step backwards. “We’ll do this the hard way. Gilda, take her out!”

Gilda didn’t disappoint; within a second, one of her fists smashed into the front of the helmet, sending the stranger to the concrete. But the woman was already getting up, so Lightning started making her escape. She didn’t even take a full step before her head whipped back to look at the stranger. More specifically, at the stranger’s helmet. Eyes alight and grin swiftly returning, she ran past the fight and out onto the sidewalk.

Even with the heavy rain and fog, the sporty motorcycle stood out, the same one as had been in front of Arpeggio’s. Lightning hurried to it and let out a gleeful chuckle at the sight of keys still in the ignition.

Lightning stood in her mother’s room, staring at the body. It was right where she’d left it. Her fingertips brushed against the gemstone. Her other hand touched the cold skin just below the knee. Lightning’s face was set in a grim frown, her eyes ponderous. The rain pattered on the window, just like it had that afternoon.

Gritting her teeth, she left the room. He was standing in the living room, staring at the front door with his tiny pupils. The kitchen sink was so clean it sparkled in the flickering LED lighting.

“Hey, old man,” she snapped. He turned to her, motions lethargic. “Make arrangements for Mom’s funeral, would you?”

Eyes blinked. Pupils shifted. There was the faintest suggestion of thought behind them. “It is late,” he finally, tonelessly answered. “The funeral homes will be closed.”

Lightning flinched. A trembling, ruby-less hand pressed against her eyes as her lower lip gave the faintest shiver. “Then… Then do it first thing tomorrow.”

“Yes, Lightning Dust.”

“And…” She turned away, waving at the living room. “S-sit down. It’s creepy, you just standing there like that.”

“Yes, Lightning Dust.” He trudged to the nearest recliner and, with careful motions as if wary of harming anything, settled in. Straight backed, eyes forward, hands in his lap, he stared.

Lightning watched him for several seconds, expression growing more and more twisted by the second. At last she went to the garage, careful not to look at the closed door of her mother’s bedroom. She studied the motorcycle, examining its engine, its gauges, its wheels. The pounding rain on the roof was almost enough to hide her sniffle. Eventually, her attention went to the metal box attached to the back of the motorcycle.

Opening it allowed a faint buzzing sound to be heard over the rain. Blinking away the moisture from her eyes, Lightning peered inside. Sonata’s blue purse, and a chain with a padlock. The buzzing was coming from the purse. Rifling through it, she discovered a black cell phone decorated in little orange flowers and purple skulls.

The phone buzzed in her hand. She flipped it to see the screen, which displayed a purple woman with a sour expression. Lightning raised an eyebrow at the pigtails.

Then she noticed the eyes. Familiar eyes. Threatening eyes. She recalled the picture frame that had been sitting next to the shards on the bedside table.

Her finger swiped across the screen. “Who the hell is this?”

“You have something that belongs to my sister and me. I want it back.”

Lightning pulled the phone from her ear to blink incredulously at it. A small smile slipped across her lips. “Damn, did you beat Gilda? Guess all those muscles were just for show.”

“I got the one you stole, and I’ve got my own. You want them, you’ll have to take them.”

Lightning‘s back straightened. She eyed the ruby melded with her palm, tapping it with her forefinger. Shaking her head, focused frown back in place, she declared, “I’ve got my own. What do I need yours for?”

The answer came without hesitation and filled with dark promise. “As long as you’ve got my sister’s, I’m going to chase you. As long as I’ve got mine, I’m immune. I can stop you. I am going to stop you. We can do this now or we can do it later, but it’s going to happen. So what are you, Lightning Dust?” The next words might as well have been spat in her face. “A fighter, or a fucking coward?”

Lightning sucked in a sharp breath, fire blazing in her eyes. Her fist closed around the ruby. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. Name the place. I’ll be there.”

Two minutes later, Lightning was in her room. The window was still open, a puddle having formed between her futon and the desk. She made no move to correct this. Instead she bent down to pick something up off the floor: an autographed baseball bat. She slapped it against her ruby-free palm once, twice, the wood making a satisfying whack both times.

A slow inhale.

An equally long exhale.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The loose bar creaked in the chill wind. Goosebumps trailed up her arm.

“I’m in control,” she whispered to the storm.

“I’m in control.” Her words were fire, hot and dangerous.

“I’m in control.”

The bat slapped one more time against her palm, the sound mixing with a crack of lightning.

The Conflict

The rain pounded down as Aria stepped onto the school’s roof. The padlock dangled from its chain under her left arm. She immediately set her attention to the other side of the building. Even in the darkness, there was no mistaking Lightning Dust’s figure, if only because it could be nobody else.

Lightning was leaning against one of the large air conditioning units, baseball bat at her side. Her head came up, fingers brushing her soaked blond locks away from her face. As soon as she saw Aria’s figure in the downpour, she slung the bat onto her shoulder and stepped forward. Her sneakers were quiet on the concrete ceiling. The clopping of Aria’s combat boots could barely be made out over the storm.

Aria’s eyes narrowed against the rain. She began to swing the padlock and chain in a vertical circle. Thunder rumbled over their heads as they approached one another.

They paused some ten paces apart, close enough to properly see one another’s features in the rain. A hard wind blew Aria’s pigtails wildly about, but she made no move to stop them. The padlock made a quiet whistling sound as the chain spun in her hand.

Lightning took a couple practice swings with her bat. “Before we begin,” she called over the rain, “I just want to say that you’ve got the coolest room ever.”

Aria reached out her free hand. The padlock landed in the palm with a resounding, wet slap. Her face reflected nothing but stoic stone. “I’m gonna knock your teeth out with this thing.”

“Straight to the point?” Lightning held the bat low behind her, ready to swing. “Fine.”

And so they stood. In the dark, as the rain filled the air with its hiss, as winds pushed at the two of them, as the sky growled in anticipation. The chain began to spin its circle again, a siren’s song of imminent brutality. Tense hands squeezed the bat’s handle as if to crush the breath from a throat. Two pairs of eyes held one another, neither woman budging, neither advancing, neither retreating.

The wind died down. If one listened hard enough, they might have heard Lightning’s slow, carefully controlled breaths over the ambient noise.

Not a soul would have heard such things from Aria.

A bolt cracked the sky.

By the time the flash had passed, Lightning Dust had closed half the distance.

She swung. Aria leaned back, not so much as blinking when the bat flashed an inch from her nose and splattered water across her face. A reverse swing, another dodge, this time with a backstep.

On the third swing, Aria caught the padlock low in her right hand, stepped forward, and blocked the bat with her chain. As soon as the bat’s momentum faded, she let go of the padlock to try a backfist. Lightning reverse-stepped with a grunt, tried to line up another swing—

She fell to the ground on her back, just escaping an upward swing of the padlock. Her sideways roll was barely enough to dodge the improvised weapon as it swung back down, crunching into the concrete right where her head had been. On one knee, she pulled the bat up just in time to block the jagged bottom of a boot aimed at her face. Eyes wide, she ducked down, the metal padlock rustling the hair atop her head. Pushing up and forward while Aria’s arm was still recovering from the swing brought her shoulder-first into the former siren. Aria, the slightly smaller of the two, stumbled back with a snarl.

The bat reverse-swung. It was an awkward attack from an awkward position, and Aria was able to block it with her chain-wrapped arm. She countered by throwing a punch that landed squarely on Lightning’s cheek, but it too was awkward due to their close, unbalanced positions, and hardly did any damage. Lightning shoved Aria back, tried to get some distance, had to bend backwards to avoid the padlock swinging in from her right.

Aria spun with the swing of the padlock, using its momentum to throw a circling kick at Lightning. She didn’t quite have the reach, but it kept Lightning back. She came around low to one knee, arm stretched as far as it could go as the padlock whistled through the rain, sending droplets flying in a circle.

Lightning reverse-swung again. The bat cracked into the padlock with enough force to send tremors up her arm. Amidst the endless raindrops, splinters flew. Wood and metal canceled one another’s momentum, and Lightning charged in close once more. Instead of a full swing, she attempted to bash Aria’s face with the butt of the bat’s handle. Aria dodged sideways, only to get caught in another shoulder-first shove that knocked her on her back. Now it was her scrambling to roll away as the bat struck concrete with a resounding thwack and a splash.

She came out of her roll with another spin, trying to make distance. Lightning, snarling through her teeth, took a follow-up swing. Aria, arm raised high, swung the padlock vertically. The chain caught the bat, wrapped around it. She jerked the chain taut and nearly took the weapon out of Lightning’s hands.

Another bolt tore through the sky.

The combatants stood in the rain for a couple seconds, weapons intertwined. With the bat gripped tight just above her shoulder, Lightning used her tensed arm to brush hair and water from her eyes, never letting go of her weapon. Across from her, chain-wrapped arm raised close to her face and tense with effort, Aria did the same with her free hand. There was nothing but darkness and rain beyond either of them; no sign that an outside world existed at all. The wind kicked up, harder than before.

The boom of the bolt hit them, and they resumed their dance.

Aria caught the end of the bat with her free palm and pushed. The handle thrust past Lightning’s shoulder, forcing her to twist with it or lose her hold. Chain-arm pushed wood sideways, and Aria came in with a vicious punch. There was no awkwardness this time; the hit jerked Lightning’s face sideways. She stumbled, tried to retaliate, only for the bat to be ripped out of her hands. She caught her balance and, barely managing the time to look at her opponent, charged with a war cry against the roaring gale.

Aria had swung the chain – and thus the bat – behind her, but the two were still tangled and she had no chance to fix that before Lightning slammed into her. They hit the concrete, and Lightning wasted no time smashing her fist into Aria’s face. Her second attempt was blocked by the chain-arm, the metal digging into the flesh of her fingers. Lightning used her other hand to grab the arm and pin it against Aria’s own throat, then punished her with another punch to the nose. Aria grunted through clenched teeth.

On the third punch, she twisted her neck so the blow hit hard concrete. Lightning hissed as pain clawed up her wrist, forced to pause for the split second of another lightning flash to let the shock pass.

By the time she could see again, Aria’s mouth was wide open. From her throat erupted sound, a screech of a tone that visibly distorted the air and sent water droplets spraying from the two of them. Lightning reared back, hands over her ears, her own cry inaudible against the sudden onslaught. The noise stopped, Lightning blinked away her tears—

And then Aria’s forehead slammed into her nose. A second later and she’d been shoved off the once-prone Siren.

Sticky blood seeped from Lightning’s nostrils as she hit the concrete on her side. She allowed herself just enough of a pause to release a cry of pain, and then she was hurrying back to her feet. Sneakers slipped in the water that now ran across the roof in small rivers, stealing from her a precious second. A clatter of wood called her attention to Aria, who had just freed the bat from her chain. Now the siren, her lips dark from the blood dripping from her own nose, turned to face her with padlock once more swinging circles.

Metal swung wide. Lightning gained control of her feet and managed to dodge, droplets flying from the padlock and into her face as it darted past. It came again, and again, and again! Sometimes high, sometimes low, Aria spinning and dropping to one knee and back up. Though water cascaded off her clothes and body, she moved with the surety and grace of a ballerina, pigtails flying like ribbons, every motion sending the padlock whirling like choreographed, blunt death. Lightning dodged, jumped over a low swing, backed up as another swing aimed for her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed in concentration with every spin, every splash of water slapped against her, ever careful step.

The padlock passed. Her hand whipped out and caught one of Aria’s pigtails.

She jerked, and Aria let out a yelp as her spin was halted, neck twisting. Unbalanced, one leg held out mid-spin, she stumbled, tried to correct, landed one one knee with a hand to the concrete. She saw the attack coming and tried to dodge. Lightning’s knee, aimed for the face, instead got shoulder. It was more than enough to send the siren sprawling.

Lightning attempted to stomp Aria’s stomach. The siren rolled away, only to get hit in the side by a follow-up kick.

“Stay down!” Lightning’s foot slammed into a black puddle, barely missing Aria’s face. Holding her side, Aria tried to get on her feet only to be met with a powerful left-handed hook to the side of the head that toppled her sideways. She rolled with the landing, came up facing Lightning who was already almost on her again! Still one one knee, she grasped the chain with both hands and blocked the second attempt at a knee strike.

Lightning tried a straight punch. Aria moved into it, wrapped her right arm around so Lightning’s was caught between her arm and shoulder, then pushed forward and up. Lightning’s free hand struck her side. Aria grunted, teeth grit, and countered with a blow that landed under Lightning’s armpit. The woman let out a strangled cry, caught the second attempt.

Another lull, this time with the two of them up close and holding one another still. Both were breathing hard, blood mingling with the rain that dripped from their chins. Aria's breath hitched, but only the tiniest flick of her lips hinted at any related pain. Lightning tried to pull her arm free; Aria held fast. Aria tugged her own arm; Lightning’s grip was like iron. A bruise was already forming on the side of Aria’s face, visible even in the dark. They held one another’s glares for a second. Two. Three. Lightning’s drifted to the ground. Thunder rumbled over the rain, and as if in unspoken agreement, both let go and shoved the other away.

Aria wasted no time trying for a swing. Lightning charged forward, ducked under the padlock, and slammed shoulder-first into the siren. She didn’t knock Aria down this time, only to the side, and she kept going past the siren. Aria stumbled, recovered, turned and twirled her chain. Lightning scooped up the baseball bat and swung as she spun.

For the second time, wood hit metal. There was an audible crack rivaling the lightning that lit up the sky, creating a ghostly image of splinters and the bat bending sharply. Raindrops froze, reflecting unblinking flames of brilliant gamboge and mulberry like sparkling stars in a midsummer sky, two blazing pyres sharing a singular glare of ferocity, determination, and harmonious destruction across the wet, glittering aether. A pair of souls connected by a bridge of oak and steel and passion and purpose, the quintessential picture of violence given life.

The flash passed, and the rain fell.

Lightning launched her assault, every swing wild and accompanied by a shriek, the bent bat no less dangerous for the damage it had received. Aria dodged again, even as the padlock swung circles. Step, scream, swing, dodge, again, again, and again, water splashing against skin and wood and metal as they danced through the renewed darkness.

Aria caught the padlock, dropped down to one knee under a swing, and threw the metal weapon with straight precision into Lightning’s lower leg. It hit hard enough to unbalance her foe, and Lightning had no time to brace when the chain-wrapped arm flashed forward in a punch that got her in the chin. The second punch was in the gut, a third in the chest, then a two-palm push nearly sent her sprawling. An unbalanced step, two, eyes wide, arms seeking out the right position to stop the backwards momentum. A spiked boot swung out high, and Lightning moved to block, only to have the bat knocked from her hand. Sneakers slipped on wet concrete and she went down. The whistling of chain and metal filled her ears. She went for the bat, caught it in both hands, turned to face her opponent as she rose.

Padlock impacted cheek.

Teeth flew.

Lightning spun, hitting the concrete face-down in a puddle. For an unearthly second, the rain and thunder was masked behind a high-pitched ringing in her ears. Blood dribbled from between her lips as she moaned. The dark world blurred. All she could do was watch the rain pound against the wet cement.

The padlock smashed the ground an inch from her face, sending water splashing into her eyes, her mouth and its throbbing pain, her aching nose. Aria straddled Lightning's back, grabbed her arm, pulled it up in a straight-armed lock. It wasn’t until she felt the nails clawing at her palm that Lightning realized what the woman was going for.

The fact jolted her out of the pain-induced stupor. “No.” She squirmed. Aria held fast. “No!” Red light began to glow out the corner of Lightning’s vision. “No! You can’t take it from me! I need it, I need it!”

Aria said nothing. One arm held Lightning’s tightly in place, the other carefully dug into the palm. Her lips curled with fierce concentration, her eyes shining red as the light glowed both from within her jacket and the ruby before her eyes. Lightning tried to close her hand into a fist. Aria rewarded her by punching the back of her head, sending her already pained face into the concrete. Fingernails began to dig between ruby and skin.

“Please. Please!” Lightning’s free arm swung, twisted, grasped at nothing. Her legs kicked against the ground uselessly. Tears melded with rain and blood. “I’m in control! I’m finally in control! You can’t do this to me!”

She screamed. Aria screamed back. The roof was alight in a brilliant red glow, the drops of rain sparkling like bloody diamonds.

The ruby came free in Aria’s hand, leaving behind little but a faint red mark in Lightning’s palm.

Her prize acquired, Aria released Lightning’s arm, which fell limp. Hand on her side, hissing through her teeth, she moved off the prone teen’s back and sat down facing away from her. That done, she held up the ruby between forefinger and thumb, examining it closely. She touched it to her head, and it gave off a faint pulse that brought a smile to her lips.

Only then did she look over her shoulder at the unmoving Lightning Dust. “You done?”

Lightning, cheek to puddle, offered no response. She only stared blankly across the rooftop. The water her face lay in was stained red with swirls of blood still dripping from her nose and mouth. Were it not for the steady rise and fall of her back as she breathed one might think her dead.

Facing forward again, Aria pocketed the ruby inside her thoroughly soaked jacket, then used the back of her hand to rub blood from her own lips. She felt her face, wincing. Clenching her jaw, she gripped her nose and, with a crunch of cartilage, reset it, her eyes clenching tightly shut as she grunted.

She began unraveling the chain around her arm. As a roll of thunder sounded off overhead, she eyed the dark roof and its many puddles and small rivers. “You know, if we looked hard enough we might be able to recover those teeth.”

Lightning said nothing. Her wet locks clung to her face, obscuring one of her eyes.

Aria shot her an annoyed frown. The last of the chain came loose from her arm, the skin red from all the scratching of metal against flesh. She tossed the improvised weapon aside. “Fine, then. Don’t talk to me.” She gingerly got up, turned away.

“I was in control.”

She paused. Turned back.

Lightning spat out blood, but didn’t try to get up. Her arms remained limp where they lay. “That was all I wanted. To finally have some control over my life.” Her visible eye, wet with something other than rain, drifted up to Aria, questioning, pleading. “Why does everything I try go so horribly wrong?”

The two stared at one another, one broken in multiple ways, the other victorious yet solemn. The world remained black, existing only for the two of them. Neither spoke for some time. Aria’s pigtails, heavy with water, dangled almost to the concrete, water sleuthing off them in a steady stream. Lightning sniffled, her eye turning away at last.

A crackling bolt across the sky stirred the siren from her staring. She eyed the sky, sighed, then got down on one knee to grab Lightning’s wrist. With a moan of effort, she got Lightning’s arm around her shoulder and hefted the woman up. “Come on, before we get struck by lightning or something.”

“I tried striking,” the woman muttered without emotion. “It didn’t work.”

“Hah.” Aria looked around, frowned. She started limping in a seemingly random direction. Lightning allowed herself to be dragged, more stumbling than walking. “This would be a lot easier if you used your legs.”

Eyes on the concrete, Lightning whispered, “Why do you even care?”

Aria smiled. Lightning didn’t see it. “That was the best throw-down I’ve had in decades. Nobody fights that hard without a reason.”

Lightning raised her head to look at Aria. The siren didn’t return the look, her peering gaze focused ahead. The tiniest of smiles drifted across the teen’s lips. She began putting some weight on her legs as she let her head hang once more. “Y-you really do have the coolest bedroom. I want a bedroom like that.”

“Maybe you can have one someday.” Aria brought them to a stop. They could just make out the edge of the roof ahead. She scowled. “But first, we gotta figure out where the door is.”

Above them, the rain only came down harder.

Somewhere’s behind them, a door clanged open. “Aria!”

The siren’s eyes went wide. “Aww, nuts.” Slowly, she began turning them around.

By the time she’d pulled it off, Sonata was in front of her, sporting an umbrella and lighting the way with her cell phone. She got one look at her beat up sister and let out a faint gasp. “By the Great Song, are you okay?” Then she noticed Lightning and promptly took a step back, face going pale. “R-ria, do you know who that is?”

“Sonata!” Adagio’s voice sounded in the distance, presumably from the roof access doors. “Get back in here with that umbrella before you get struck by lightning!”

The youngest siren spun around. “Dagi, it’s Aria! She’s hurt!”

A pause. “How hurt?”

Aria and Lightning shared a glance. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” the former weakly suggested.

“Speak for yourself,” Lightning groaned, gingerly touching her bloody lips.

Aria winced. “Yeah, definitely want to get that looked at.”

“Come on, Ria, just leave her.” Sonata shot Lightning a scowl, hands going to her own stomach.

“I’m bringing her home.”

The sheer incredulity in Lightning’s face was almost a match for Sonata’s. “You’re what? But Ria, she stole our stones!”

“Yeah?” Aria freed her arm from around Lightning’s waist so that she could reach into her jacket and pull out the freshly retrieved ruby. “And I got them back. You’re welcome.”

Sonata stared at the gem, eyes wide and jaw dropped. She reached up as if in a daze, taking the stone with reverent care. “It’s… It’s fixed. You fixed it. Did you…?” She touched the ruby to her forehead. It emitted a faint pulse.

Sonata dropped her umbrella. Tears were already falling down her cheeks.

Wrapping her arm back around Lightning’s waist, Aria tilted her head at her injured companion. “Thank her. She’s the one who fixed them.”

Sonata lowered the gem to stare at Lightning. The blonde shifted, coughed, glanced away. “I, uh, had no idea what I was doing.” Aria reached out and caught the umbrella just as it was being blown away.

Then Sonata came forward and embraced Lightning, forehead pressed against her shoulder. “Thank you so much.”

Lightning hissed. “I’m in a lotta pain, kid. Your sister kicked my ass.”

“That’s okay.” Sonata stepped around them and added her support to Lightning’s opposite side. “We know a good nurse.”

“Sonata! Aria! What’s going on out there?”

“Speaking of, we better get going.”

They limped for the access door, now visible in the distance thanks to Adagio using her own phone to try and see them. The going was faster with Sonata’s help. Aria tried to hold the umbrella over them as best she could, but it wasn’t easy being at the end of the line. “How did you know we were up here, anyway?”

“We tracked my phone, just like you said,” Sonata cheerfully replied. “Then we saw the red flash from the parking lot.”

To that, Aria could only smile.

Adagio was waiting for them at the door, clutching her own gem against her chest and Sonata’s bag hanging from her shoulder. A long, heavy sigh escaped her as the three made it inside the door. She looked at Lightning, then at Aria. Her expression was a complex mixture of concern and exasperation. “Really, Aria?”

The smallest siren's smile turned wry. “I found a stray. Can I keep her?” Lightning snorted a laugh, only to cringe as blood seeped from her nose.

The eldest siren pressed a hand over her eyes and heaved another sigh. “We can barely afford us.”

“I know.” Aria’s expression turned serious. “I’ll help.”

Sonata looked from one sister to the other, still holding Lightning’s other side up. When Lightning shot her a quizzical expression, she only shrugged helplessly.

“Damn it, Ria,” Adagio muttered, “why is it all the medical inventory is always used up on you?” She turned away, waving a beckoning hand. “Well, come on. Here’s hoping she’s better house-trained than you are.”

Author Notes

My thanks to Sunset_Shimmer83 for commissioning this piece!

This story stems from the last short I wrote for Paul's Friendship Collection (at the time of writing), which saw the end results of Aria defending Sonata against Lightning Dust. Sunset_Shimmer83, apparently a big fan of catfights, was not satisfied with seeing just the ending of that battle, and thus offered a commission to write a proper fight between them. My first question was "but why are they fighting?" Sunset_Shimmer83's response was, in not so many words, "I don't know, just repeat the reason in the short?"

That wasn't good enough for me. It was clear Sunset_Shimmer83 wanted a proper no-hold-barred brawl between these two. But I have zero interest in writing a fight dump. If Aria and Lightning were going to give their all, they needed a lot more reason to do it than "stop picking on my sister!" Protip: if you want two characters to give their all in anything, you need to give them something to lose. It was in thinking about the hows and whys that I came to envision what this story is. It held my fascination enough to make me decide this was something I wanted to see happen, so I accepted the commission.

Does this mean I'm open for commissions now? I suppose so, but I have my limits. I was willing to take on this one because A) it interested me, and B) there was no wordcount limit, so I could make it what I wanted it to be. I also set a price cap; if I wrote beyond a certain number of words, the charge wouldn't keep going up. That way Sunset_Shimmer83 would get their story, I wouldn't break their wallet by making the story more than what they asked for, and I could have the story live up to my own standards. I was willing to do all of this because, again, I enjoyed what I was doing with this one. If I'd accepted a commission for something I wasn't interested in, there's no way I would have the price cap.

Which leads me to the point of all of this: yes, I am willing to take commissions now, but I'll be very picky about what commissions I accept. If the subject matter doesn't interest me, I'll probably pass. I write because I like writing, not because it's a job, and I don't intend to make it into one.

Random Story Facts!
WARNING: Here There Be Spoilers

The "Morrissey" mentioned in the argument between Aria and Adagio is John Morrissey (1831 - 1878), an Irish American politician and boxer of New York who was also known for owning gambling houses and racetracks.
I seriously considered having the last thing Aria said to Snips before she left being something along the lines of "By the way, Sonata likes when guys check out her butt." It would have been a moment of dubious honesty for humor's sake, but I decided it just didn't fit with the scene.
Sonata working as a bartender is a tiny nod to I-A-M's SciTwiXSonata romance Rules of Hospitality, which heavily featured Sonata as a bartender at a strip club (click here for my review of it). Sadly, I-A-M abandoned the site and deleted all of his works, so we're stuck with FIMFetch for the series.
Because I expect the question to be asked: The idea with the mind control was that Lightning figured out that she can brainwash people with the siren stone, but didn't know the finer points of that power. So while she managed to put Gilda and her stepfather under her spell, she was unaware that this rendered them susceptible to commands from anyone, not just her. There's also the possibility that her not being a siren means she can't wield the stone with the same finesse as a proper siren would.
Although he is never expressly named, Lightning's stepfather is Wind Rider. I originally did name him, but decided to do away with the name as a narrative-based indicator of Lightning's negative feelings towards him. His identity was never meant to be a secret though.
Since this is one of those things I'm sure readers will ask about: The idea behind the siren stones is that the intense negativity Lightning has towards her situation and her stepfather was so strong that it empowered the shards and allowed the stone to repair itself. The lingering intensity of this negativity was also enough to repair the other two once Lightning unintentionally released enough of it from Sonata's. I am aware that this is very questionable and hand-wavy but I felt it fit with the overall manner of the story.
When I first wrote that Adagio works at a bank, it was just a throw-in because I couldn't think of anything at the given time. I left it in because why not a bank? True, I could have had her in the music industry as a producer or something, but I wanted something that would make their financial situation make more sense. And hey, when you've been around for centuries it pays to wear many hats. My original thought was that she'd be a bank teller – indicating she's new to the job and only grabbed it because she needed any job. Thinking on it though, it's entirely possible she's more of a bank manager or something else higher up the totem pole. That would make more sense with the "six days a week" line, but might not fit with where the sirens are at financially for this story. Plus: When you still look like a teenager, how do you make your resume of three decades of experience (or whatever) not look like a blatant lie?
Adagio's room being less decorated and her closet lacking clothes is intended to hint that she's been secretly selling her more expensive possessions to help pay some of the sirens' bills, sacrificing so that her sibling don't have to.
While I wasn't consciously aware I was doing it, I ended up making this version of Adagio into "mamadagio". I am not at all opposed to this. Seriously, look up the tag on derpibooru for some cute pics.