by A. R. Crebs
“I look happy in my photo!” Ivory grinned.
“You always look happy,” Aria muttered. “Okay, we have less than an hour. Pack your shit, let’s get moving. Ivory, let’s raid my closet. We’ll have to buy you something better fitting when we arrive.”
“You mean, we’re going shopping?” the blonde nearly squealed.
Aria sighed long and low, rubbing her eyebrows. “Yes.” She flinched at the young woman’s exuberant cheers.
‘I’m going to shoot myself,’ Aria thought.
Boarding the plane wasn’t as troublesome as Aria had expected, except for one little hitch. Due to the recent attacks, Cherno was under a state of emergency and wasn’t allowing any military personnel into their city. That meant that Troy and Aria had to act as a married couple. Mr. Clarke had even taken the liberty of making up a fake background for the two, detailing the time and date of their marriage. They even shared the same last name, taking Aria’s title–Ivanov–much to Troy’s dissatisfaction. Dovian and Ivory, however, seemed completely at ease with their fake backgrounds. The two were always close to one another. Even when boarding the plane, the couple had their arms interlocked.
“We’re getting married,” Ivory grinned, telling the careless official at the gate as he looked over their documents. She leaned forward, her chest nearly popping the buttons off her ill-fitting vest and blouse. “I’m so excited!”
Dovian merely remained as stoic as ever, letting the blonde drag him through the terminal.
Aria handed her papers over. “Trust me, it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be,” she grumbled. Troy rolled his eyes before smirking and wrapping his arm around the woman’s shoulder, shaking her.
“Ain’t that the truth? But I tell you what! Wouldn’t trade this gal here for nuthin’ in the world!” he twanged.
“That was a horrible accent,” Aria whispered after the documents were handed back.
“Wait till you hear my Cherno accent!” He smiled.
The two trailed behind the other couple. Ivory leaned her head against Dovian’s arm, pointing out and giddily talking about every little thing she found interesting or cute. You’d think the woman had never been outside the city before.
“Oh, look at the baby! It’s so cute!” Ivory pointed at a passenger and her small child. The woman nervously eyed Ivory and the tall man she was with, shouldering the infant on the other side of her body. The two stuck out like a sore thumb with their tall statures, strange clothes, light hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. Freaks.
“Yeah, real cute,” Aria muttered. She couldn’t help cringing at the horrible cry the infant made.
“Wait till you see what’s in the diaper.” Troy shuddered with disgust.
“You two are just so hateful,” Ivory scolded.
They took their seats in the back of the plane, much to Aria’s disappointment. Couldn’t they at least be considered wealthy couples who could afford first-class seating? At least the flight was with America Plus, the fastest airline on the planet. She took the window seat, gazing over the endless browns of the dead land far below as they took off. Troy tiredly flipped through a digital magazine he had downloaded onto his DNAIS, chuckling to himself every now and then as he listened to the constant one-sided conversation in front of him.
“And I said to her, if you can’t say anything nice, you best not be saying anything at all. I mean, really, can you believe her?” Ivory went on, making up her own stories about other female friends and the drama in her life, talking Dovian’s ear off throughout the whole four-hour flight. “And the animals! They were so strange! Never saw anything like it before!”
Aria scoffed. She was amazed Dovian hadn’t vaporized the annoying woman into dust by now. Instead, he would only nod and chuckle lowly in response to her antics. The two certainly knew how to play the part. Aria eyed Troy, who was snoring and drooling all over himself, crumbs from his flight snack scattered across his chest. She wrinkled her nose at the man and brought her attention back to the other couple. Ivory was giggling as Dovian whispered in her ear. Aria’s face flushed. She angrily elbowed Troy, waking him from his slumber, quickly folded her arms, and glared out the side window.
“Hrm?! What?” He sat up, hair in disarray. “Was I snoring?”
Aria ignored him.
“Aw, nasty!” he laughed, wiping his hand across his mouth. “Did you see that? Had a drool strand going all the way to my elbow!”
Aria closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath. “You are so disgusting,” she muttered quietly.
“Wow! It’s so pretty!” Ivory chimed in. She had her face pressed against the glass, looking over the frozen tundra on the earth.
“Pretty?” Aria replied. “That’s not pretty.”
“What do you mean?” Ivory leaned back to look at the dark-haired woman.
“God, Ivory, do you really not know anything?” she grumped.
Ivory sunk a little in her chair.
“That’s a frozen wasteland down there, caused by nuclear winter. We’ve blasted that land so many times, it’ll never melt. This whole world is nothing but desert or frozen rock,” Aria explained.
“It’s still pretty. Even if it was caused by ugly things,” Ivory whispered.
Aria also sank in her chair, resting her chin in her hand. “There’s nothing pretty about this world.”
“Ives is pretty,” Ivory argued.
“Not as much as it used to be,” Dovian joined the conversation. “Now it’s covered in dark, violent storms.”
“But the rain is pretty! Dark clouds are pretty! The orange lights that the storms cast, it was so pretty against the dark green grass. Even dark things have their beauty. And there are living things there, right?”
“Some. Mostly ugly lizards,” Dovian said.
“Aw, come on! Lizards are cute, right? At least the baby ones?” she cheered.
“You are certainly no pessimist.” Dovian stared down at the woman.
“What’s the point of always dwelling on the bad? There are so many little things in this world that so many people overlook. I think if more people tried looking for the beauty in things, there wouldn’t be so much hate and misery,” Ivory spoke avidly, her yellow eyebrows furrowing as she lightly slapped her fist against her other palm. Dovian watched the young woman with interest. Her words sounded very familiar. Though it was a simple, optimistic idea, Dovian felt he had heard them before.
“More humans…people…should live by that example. In fact, I know of one who could benefit from it.” Dovian turned his head, eyeing Aria. She lifted her hand, signaling to him with her middle finger. He gave a smile before turning his attention back to his blonde counterpart.
“I’ll work on her later,” Ivory whispered, “when we’re shopping!” She clapped her hands together.
A loud chime sounded, interrupting their conversation.
“Welcome to Cherno District. The time is 20:00. We are in a state of emergency. Everyone calmly depart from the plane. Luggage inspection has already taken place. We appreciate your cooperation and patience. Thank you for flying with America Plus airlines.” The pilot’s voice was thick with a Cherno accent. Aria took note of the inflection and hoped Ivory had done the same. She wasn’t concerned about Dovian.
“Thank you for choosing America Plus,” Ivory repeated to herself, making her ‘r’ sounds hard. “It’s kind of like talking with peanut butter in your mouth.”
‘Close enough,’ Aria thought.
It took about twenty minutes before Aria’s group made it through the checkpoint, their luggage moving down a conveyor belt outside the walls of Cherno. Due to the state of emergency, all security checks were done outside the city as a preventative measure to keep the threats out. These types of things always made her nervous. Someone could easily lose their belongings. Clothing and souvenirs were strung all over the place as the contents of the passengers’ luggage was carelessly dumped and dug through. Ivory impatiently hobbled from one leg to another as
she stood waiting in line.
“What?” Aria asked finally, annoyed with the girl’s fidgeting.
“The stores are going to be closed,” she whined.
“Stores around here don’t close ‘til midnight; you’ll be alright,” Aria grumbled.
Ivory repeatedly kicked at the snow. Smiling, she bent down and made a small snowball. Aria gave her a sideways glance, watching the naive woman raise the snowball to her lips, her pink tongue sticking out to lick it.
“No!” Aria slapped the item from her hand. “Don’t eat that!” She gave the now frightened woman a severe look. “God!”
‘Why is she so stupid?!’
“You can’t eat snow off the ground, not in a place like this,” Aria lectured her. Ivory stared at the smashed snowball on the ground.
“Heavy luggage you have here.” A security officer heaved the woman’s baggage.
“We’re women; what do you expect?” Aria shrugged, turning her attention to the Cherno man.
He opened the bag and shuffled through the clothing. “Lots of containers….”
“Makeup,” Aria said with irritation.
“You women and your makeup. Always getting dolled up. You all would look better without it,” he said with his thick accent.
“Appreciate the input.” Aria snagged her bag as the man zipped up the items.
“Have nice day.” He waved casually.
“Have nice day,” Ivory repeated. Aria tugged on her arm, pulling her away from the luggage checkpoint.
Together, they met up with the two men. Troy had his bag shouldered, Dovian carelessly drug his behind him through the muddy snow.
“Papers,” another officer ordered.
Troy handed his over.
“Ivanov.” The security official nodded to himself. “Good, strong Cherno name.”
“Damn right it is. Anyone got problem with it, I’ll kick their ass,” Troy mimicked the officer’s accent.
Aria quickly shoved Troy out of the way, handing her forms to the officer.
“You married?” he asked, eyeing Troy. Aria nodded. “Good, I like him.” He gently pushed her through the line. “Next.”
Ivory cheerfully handed over her documents.
“You four traveling together?”
“Yes! We’re getting married!” Ivory stated happily, in a nearly perfect accent.
“Love is in the air!” The officer shrugged. “Okay, good.” He looked up at Dovian, and his face suddenly fell. “You getting married to this gangly?”
“Gangly?” Ivory asked.
‘Oh shit.’ Aria stopped Troy mid-step.
“Yeah, gangly,” the officer repeated.
“Is there a problem?” Aria asked.
“No, no problem. Just a tall motherfucker. Better watch his back.” Aria wasn’t sure if the officer was trying to just give good advice or was threatening Dovian.
“He can watch his own back, believe me,” Troy said.
The officer looked at Troy and then quickly handed the papers over to Dovian. “Welcome to Cherno.”
“Спасибо,” Dovian said curtly to the man as he followed down the line. Before he could make it through, however, the officer kicked Dovian hard behind his legs, sending him to his knees, and carefully aimed his rifle at Dovian’s head.
“You think you are being smart?”
“Whoa! What’s going on?!” Troy rushed to Dovian’s side, unconsciously reaching for his weapon that wasn’t shouldered. ‘Damn it.’
“This man thinks it's funny to make jokes.”
“What’d you do, Dovian?” Aria asked.
“I was merely saying thank you,” Dovian growled through gritted teeth, his hands on the back of his head.
Aria grimaced with irritation. ‘We do not need this. We do not need this kind of attention; we’ve already brought enough to ourselves without the police officials adding to the problem.’
“He mocks my accent.” The officer pressed the barrel of his gun against Dovian’s head. Ivory watched, wide-eyed at the scene. Dozens of people stared in awe.
“Dovian…” Aria said in a warning tone.
“I was only trying to be respectful, speaking in one’s native language.”
“You insult us. Speak only English. You can get yourself killed.”
Now that didn’t make sense to Dovian. It used to be one would be flattered that a foreigner would try to learn the native language of the country they were traveling to. Now it was considered insulting.
“Check his papers closely,” Aria argued. “He’s native to this country. It may not say it, but he’s a studied linguist. He was only trying to be respectful of yours and his heritage.”
The officer lowered his weapon, tugging Dovian to his feet. “You just be careful. Words like that can get you killed. You look crazy ‘nough as it is with your weird clothes and optic enhancers.”
“Noted,” Dovian replied, feeding the man a fiery glare.
“Come on.” Aria tugged Dovian.
The Sorcēarian’s face was contorted. Aria shuddered. He was downright pissed.
“You should be ashamed of yourself.” Ivory pointed at the officer. Troy quickly pulled the woman with him.
“You can’t do things like that, Dovian. I know you were only trying to be nice,” Aria said.
“Your people are menaces.”
Well, she couldn’t argue with that. It certainly was an unpleasant welcome, but, then again, Russite wasn’t the most pleasant of places. The rest of the trek to the hotel was made in silence.
Located in a dark corner of the city was the hotel the group would be staying. Aria and Troy didn’t much care for the location or state of the building, but they were trying to be discreet. Ivory thought it was beautiful with its fluorescent lights playing off the icicle-laden windows. They retrieved the keys to their rooms. Dovian and Troy would share a room while Aria and Ivory shared their own.
“Trade ya keys?” Troy asked.
“Not a chance,” Aria replied, lugging her heavy baggage up the stairs.
“Heavy?” he asked.
“Yeah…got your and my rifles inside.”
Hidden amongst all the tiny containers were the parts to Troy’s and Aria’s weapons. The containers themselves made up the frames. The pieces all snapped together. The bullets were currently in liquid form, and once set overnight in their moldings, they would be ready to fire. Thanks to Dr. Camery’s detailed research, they were capable of formulating bullets with electromagnetic static. When loaded into the weapon, the chamber of the gun would electrically charge the highly conductive metal. The speed and rate of spin on the bullets then created their own miniature disruptive fields, making it capable of piercing through the Faze Shields the monsters were armed with. Aria and Troy had no chance to test the new weapons, but Camery had reassured them of their success rate.
Ivory effortlessly carried her suitcase over her shoulder, humming a little tune to herself. She didn’t at all seem concerned with the weight of her bag which was armed to the brim with her own sniper rifle. Aria thought it best to keep the woman far away from the action on a rooftop, somewhere she would be safe. It seemed dangerous, especially since the rifle was still in the prototype phase and didn’t yet have auto-aim capabilities, but Aria had told her many times not to shoot unless it was absolutely necessary and only if there were no humans near her target. They could always train her later. Aria was hoping that no confrontation would occur at all during their stay.
After setting out the gun parts and filling the molds, Ivory had whined enough to break Aria’s resolve. It was time to go shopping.
“Hi, Dovian! Want to come?” Ivory asked the brooding man in the hall. In his hand was his staff, previously broken down between his and Troy’s luggage.
“Hell, no! Dovian’s coming with me,” Troy shouted from down the hall. “I’m buying the poor man a drink.”
Ivory pouted slightly.
“Dovian. Put your staff away,” Aria ordered.
>
“I’d prefer it to stay with me.”
“You can’t just carry that thing around; you’ll cause problems.”
“It could cause more problems if I don’t have it.” His eyes were set in thin lines.
“It’s okay. He can take his pole,” Troy interrupted.
“Troy–” Aria argued. He held up a hand to quiet her.
“If anyone asks, we can say he’s one of those costumers.”
“Costumer?” Dovian eyed Troy.
“Yeah, you look like a nut. We’ll say you’re going to reenact some World of Sorcery battle scene. All the nerds do it.”
“If it allows me to wield my staff, then fine,” Dovian muttered, walking away from the three.
Smiling, Troy mouthed to Aria, ‘Oh, my God.’ She rolled her eyes.
“Don’t drink too much. We’ll be back soon. I’m going to need one myself before the night is through,” Aria mumbled, leading Ivory to the outdoors.
Troy waved a goodbye to the girls and slowly made his way into the bar area of the hotel. In the back, the darkest corner of the room, sat Dovian, his eyes glimmering. The soldier made his way to the table, eyeing the area. Luckily, there were very few people in the bar.
“Whatcha havin’?” Troy asked as he plopped roughly into his seat.
“Any type of ale that would put one in a better mood,” Dovian grumbled.
“Whiskey?”
“A horrid choice…and I don’t think that can be classified as a type of ale,” Dovian said scathingly. After a moment, he continued, “Sure.”
“Alrighty!” Troy slapped his hands together. “Yo! Barman!”
The rough looking bartender lifted his head.
Troy winced under his furry-browed glare. “Two whiskeys?”
“No whiskey. Lots of vodka,” the bartender replied.
Troy eyed Dovian, who shrugged.
“Sounds tasty!” Troy replied.
“Old Boris will fix you right up.” The bartender nodded.
“Yay…Boris.” Troy gave a thumbs-up. “I like this guy. Look at him…all lumber-jackey.”