“I don’t like it here,” Calliope muttered. Sheena gave her a cursory glance and then continued her walk through the streets, brushing past several lanky looking men, all dressed in tattered coats and button-downs, their faces caked with dust and grime.

“On this street?” Sheena decided, for once, to indulge the girl’s nonsensical rantings and immediately felt a tinge of regret as she awaited what would probably follow as a barrage of complaints about their present situation.

“This…this place. I want to go home, these people are….”

These ‘people’ are what?” Sheena demanded. “Say what you mean, girl.”

“They’re disgusting, look at them!”

“Because they’re dirty?”

“They could do better. My family does better, your family does better,” Calliope looked at the crowd with disdain as she fell into step beside Sheena. “Why do they tarry about in the streets instead of making their lives better? Why do they do…evil things to people like Lyra?”

“Evil things?” Sheena scoffed. “Calliope, my sister is too good for you and your small mind. You see that boy over there? The one against the wall, the one missing his leg?”

“Aye, I see him,” Calliope confirmed as they passed the boy.

“My father, and mother, taught me to not only see the people but to see their struggle. What do you see when you look at that boy?”

“A beggar, of course,” Calliope scowled. They rounded a corner and passed beneath a swinging shop sign, on the opposite side of the street, a man in a sleek black waistcoat shouted through a paper megaphone. The words ‘come one, come all’ were all that Sheena managed to catch as they dipped through another crowded pocket and the voice was lost beneath the sound of rushing water from a sewer grate beneath their feet.

“A beggar, aye,” Sheena said in agreement. “And is that a life you would choose?”

“Obviously not!” Calliope spat. “I would choose better for myself! As should he!”

“And if no one gives him opportunities?”

“He should make them!”

“With one leg?” Sheena raised an eyebrow and then shook her head. “Your mind is tainted with the opportunities you have been afforded. That boy is hungry, if you were to give him the means to fight, he would kill for a crust of bread. The people who have taken Lyra are in a similar state but they have the means to fight. That is all. Do not hate them. Pity them.”

“And if Lyra dies?” Calliope demanded. “Will you not hate them then?”

“I hate what is done to them, and I will hate what I do to them in turn, but them, I do not hate. We’re here.”

Calliope looked around, confusion painting her expression as she tried to discern where ‘here’ was. They had crossed through an alleyway and emerged into a large open area flanked by two buildings far enough apart to give the spot a wide open feel in the shape of an asymmetrical square. They stood next to a wall covered partially by a wrought iron trellis choked with vines, beneath which ran small open gutter through which filthy water rushed beneath the open mouth of a nearby wall. The center of the square featured a well forged from brass that had clearly seen better days as the shiny brown coloring had given way to rampant oxidation. As Calliope’s eyes traveled upward she beheld the buildings both of which must have been a little over forty feet in height. Strung from one side to the other, cables ran from either side of the square, dozens of them in random placement all the way to the top, most of them draped with assorted clothing, drying in the ‘fresh air’. That is of course if you considered the steam-permeated air, hanging with rancid stench to be fresh. From multiple grates throughout the square, intermittent pillars of white steam spurted, giving an eerie ambiance to the quickly darkening area. Sheena’s eyes surveyed the chaos of the chosen spot, careful not to glance toward the windows.

“And just where is here?” Calliope asked with a hint of fear in her shaken voice. As if in answer to her question, a figure appeared from the steam. Sheena squinted, trying to make him out, but he was cloaked heavily in black, face masked with a thick mask that stopped just below his eyes. A wide brimmed hat easily concealed the rest of his identifying features.

“Old Jaf, I presume?” Sheena suppressed a smile. The figure cocked his head.

“That’s very humorous,” The figure said. His voice was heavily muffled by the mask but Sheena could at least tell that he was a man. A less than imposing man, but a man nonetheless. “Old Jaf sent you here to recover the girl, and I’m here to tell you that it’ll never happen. In fact, you’re going to take me to him.”

“Am I?” Sheena smirked. “Seems we have a bit of a misunderstanding here.”

“The misunderstanding is yours,” The man nodded toward one of the upper windows, Sheena glanced upward to see a glint of metal aiming down at her. “My snipers were in place long before you arrived.”

“I see,” Sheena smiled. “And your demands?”

“You take me to Old Jaf, we kill him. you shan’t expect a rescue, we have nearly all of the old man’s hired help busy in the Jovial district.”

“What a shame,” Sheena almost imperceptibly gave a half-hearted eye roll. “Now, here is my offer. You take me to the girl, Allie. You hand her over, and we rid ourselves of this ugly business.”

“And how many more innocent girls after that?” The man demanded. “No, I think I’ll see you and the old man dead.”

“I don’t suppose it would help to say I’m not working for Old Jaf. Is your mind made up then?”

“I know your kind,” The man snarled. “We’ll be rid of you sooner or later. Just give us time.”

As he finished speaking, from the far window, a muffled scream, rang out, and then the thud of a body fallen from height. The man looked over in surprise as he beheld one of his snipers laid on the bricks, his throat slit, blood gushing like crimson rivers through the cracks.

“One way, or another, I’ll have the girl,” Sheena said roughly. “And then I’ll have you. Are we clear?”

“You can’t truly think-” before he could finish his sentence, another body dropped from the far window, another sniper, this one with a broken neck.

“How many did you have again?” Sheena grinned. “A fine game this is.”

The man paused and then looked in what Sheena perceived as panic from left to right. His body tensed, his left foot a step behind him, the sole of his boot grinding the brick beneath them in anticipation. He was going to run.

“Kill her!” He finally shrieked to his minions still unseen. “Cut her down!”

The square erupted into a hail of gunfire; Calliope dropped to the ground, hands over her head as she screamed in horror. Sheena ran forward, toward the cloaked man, lead biting the ground at her heels as she vaulted over the brass well, her hand immediately reaching beneath her coat, fingers curling around the wooden handle and feeling metal of the curved trigger as she slid it from the leather holster just beneath her right arm. The muzzle flashed and gave slight recoil as she discharged the firearm in the direction of the fleeing man; she couldn’t tell if it landed, but if it did, he was still awfully agile. His cloak fluttered behind him as he bolted through the alley, Sheena in tow amidst a hail of gunfire directed at her. Behind her, in the increasingly distant square, she could hear the occasional scream and the ‘thud’ of another body while Cestus and Hilda did their best work.

The man turned a corner, Sheena followed and kept close as he mounted a steel ladder, clambering up a fire escape and tearing up a rickety stair alongside a tall brick building. The fire escape shot off into a catwalk that ran alongside the building past tall darkened windows. Sheena’s footsteps clattered against the grated steel as she gave chase, firing the occasional shot at the fleeing man. Her intention was to wound, but it quickly occurred to her that even a shot in the leg might prove fatal if he fell from this height. She had little time to think about it as they rounded a corner and passed toward the front of the building which faced a busy street. Below, she could see the elevated sidewalk next to a slightly higher train track lined with glowing street lamps. The sidewalk was lined with people even at this hour, even as the city grew darker, and the last thing Sheena wanted was to draw attention to herself. Time drew even shorter as the man, apparently not of the same opinion, half-turned and aimed an iron revolver in her direction; she barely had time to take cover behind a jutting support beam, placing her back to the steel girder-like construction as two shots rang out, bullets whizzing through the air by her head. She waited just seconds before lurching from cover and giving chase once again. He was already ahead of her - too far ahead. She cursed under her breath and put everything she had into quickening her pace. Wind rushed by her head, the sound of her footsteps filled her ears as she gritted her teeth and willed her legs to move faster. She had to catch him, she had to. He was her only lead, the only person who had any inclination as to where Lyra was. If she lost him, she lost Lyra. She focused on him; he was the only thing that existed. She became more than herself; she became the very wind that taunted and tormented her as she gave merciless chase. Without warning, the man cut left and lept from the catwalk, falling a good seven feet onto another fire escape below. He landed in a crouch, then took off again. Sheena followed suit, nearly rolling to the left as she made her landing; her eyes widened as she barely managed to grip the handrail and stop her inevitable fall.

Enough. She thought to herself angrily, reaching into her picket and withdrawing from her pocket one of the brass bullets that she’d set aside earlier, one dipped in the red liquid from the vial she’d brought with her. She curled her lip in disgust as she loaded the shell into the chamber, giving it a spin and slamming it shut. The back of the shell was marked with black ink, she could see it clearly, sitting in the cylinder, three from the hammer. She aimed and fired at the man. She missed.

One.

The chase continued to the sound of a passing train, she could hear the rumbling of the distant steam engine as massive spoked wheels raced against the steel track. The clanking of gears tore through the night and minute by minute overpowered her senses as they rushed between pools of glowing lamplight just above the third level of the fire escape. She took aim and fired again, the crack of gunfire was lost amidst the sound of chattering people below, punctuated by the roaring of train. The shot missed.

Two.

She breathed heavily, cool air filling her lungs beneath the light of the moon, amidst the roar of the train, the ambiance of steam rising from the streets below.

You are my sister, Lyra. I know you never wanted it, but I did. I wanted it because I never had a younger sister. I wanted it because I was selfish. I was selfish, Lyra, and you paid. If I die tonight, then I die for you. She raised the revolver once again, her feet slamming against the catwalk which now shook and strained, ever threatening to tear loose from its supports bolted into the side of the brick building. She looked down the barrel, the man visible in the sights as she ran, and then, she aimed downward, toward the catwalk just behind him. She squeezed the trigger, the chamber rotated, the hammer clicked as it fell back, and then forward.

Three.

The night exploded in a cloud of crimson, heat seared her face as the catwalk in front of her exploded, the remains of it dropping down and creating a crude ramp just before it broke off completely, taking the two of them down with it. They tumbled together in the darkness, a scream escaping her lips as she dropped onto the final catwalk just below. Her head slammed against the railing; pain blasted through her skull and red blotted her vision. She exhaled heavily as the breath was knocked out of her, but managed to regain her feet just in time to see the man staggering to his. He glared at her, hand still on his revolver as the took a step backward. She had him.

“What is wrong with you?!” He demanded. Sheena smiled even as blood trickled down the side of her face; she could feel the bruise forming around her eye even as she stood there. “Did you just fire an Arctesonite round? You could have killed both of us!”

Sheena’s grin faded as her fingers found purchase against the wooden grip of the revolver. She squeezed it and leveled it at the man’s head. “Take me to the girl!”

“Or what?” He began to move his hand to raise his own, but thought better of it when he took in Sheena’s hardened countenance. “You’ll blow up the rest of the building?!”

“I’ve little to lose,” She shrugged. She gave a quick glance to the walk below and her eyes widened a little as she saw the crowd scrambling, citizens quickly being replaced by swarms of uniformed men and women, each carrying their iron rifles. The city watch; they were too close to the Maussen district for her stunt to have gone unnoticed.

“You’ve brough the wrath of Auglire down on us,” He remarked. Sheena scowled. “They’ll kill us both, now.”

“Take me to her!” Sheena suddenly screamed, her body beginning to shake. The man recoiled a little, then raised an eyebrow beneath the brim of his hat. Beside them, the train ran parallel, its ebony chassis and cars illuminated brightly by spots mounted into the frame. Bright white light drowned them, each brief flood of illumination interspersed with a brief moment of blackness; the man studied Sheena’s soft features as they strobed against the night; black hair once tucked beneath the newsboy cap was now askew, haphazardly framing her features. He wondered to himself, how a tiny, petite girl such as this could pose such a brutal challenge. Finally, he sighed and turned to his right; with a single bound he mounted the railing, and then propelled himself forward in the direction of the moving train. Sheena screamed and with barely a moment’s hesitation, followed him.

She fell five feet, ten, twenty, and with each passing moment she wondered what she was thinking. Her father had taught her many things. Shooting, fighting, even basic engineering, but he’d never taught her how to fight atop a moving train, and he’d certainly never taught her to use Arctesonite in a revolver. She was out of her depth as she hurtled through the air toward the moving train. Another foot, then another. Finally, she landed crudely against the smooth surface, tumbling, writing, arms flailing as she tried to gain purchase and get to her feet. The world spun and pain shot through her side in reaction to the sudden impact. A scream unheard escaped her lips as wind pushed against her, its force rivaled only by the clattering of the spoked wheels beneath her. Somewhere ahead, the train whistle sounded, an oscillating tone searing through the dead of night. Her hand found something; a piece of railing jutting from the top of the car. She gripped it frantically, her movement stopped and she managed to work her way to her knees, one hand solidly gripping the bar as the rest of her body wavered. Squinting, she barely made out the image of the cloaked man as he made his way down the car ahead of her. She reached up and gripped the brass goggles around her neck; with one hand she managed to pull them into place, shielding her eyes from the onslaught of wind that threatened to hurl her from the train. As she did so, her cap came loose, flying from her head and off into the distance; she didn’t even bother to look back as her hair loosed, fluttering in the wind as she began to make her way forward.

It was easier than she thought; the train was moving fast but as long as she remained crouched, she found that she could move forward at a relatively quick pace so long as she kept one hand out for balance. The man, however, he was moving too fast. Had he done this before? Of course he’d done it before, why was she even wondering that?

The train continued its journey, presumably away from the Maussen district but the scenery shot by so fast, Sheena couldn’t be sure where they were at this point. She continued to move forward, quickening her pace, trying to match with the man but no matter how hard she pushed, he seemed to gain more distance with each passing second. The gap was opening faster than she wanted. Suddenly, her eyes widened beneath the goggles as a steel girder shot into view; a bridge support. She dropped to her knees again, this time going prone as the train passed beneath the bridge. To her relief, as it emerged on the other side, she saw the man standing from his own prone position. She pushed forward, faster this time, suddenly aware that her revolver was gone; it must have fallen from her hand when she’d lept from the fire escape. What did it matter, though? She couldn’t shoot him on a moving train! He, however, had different plans. She saw the muzzle flash, nearly too late, but managed to duck her head, the bullet whizzing past as her eyes widened and her bloodstained face paled. The pain in her left side was beginning go take its toll; it was a soreness that started at her forearm and increasingly traveled inward, her entire torso beginning to shriek with every single movement she made. She stumbled forward, ignoring the pain and trying to proceed under the power of pure adrenaline. She would catch him. She would. It was the only way to save Lyra.

She was beginning to gain on him, though her balance was thrown slightly askew as the train rounded a curve, changing direction and causing both of them to stagger. As they did, however, Sheena saw a rope ladder drop ahead of them; her eyes traveled upward and a gasp escaped her lips as a dirigible airship appeared above. The man had an airship?! She watched him move toward the ladder; she followed, suddenly breaking into a full run as the train slowed to accommodate for the curved portion of the track. She pushed through the pain, her hair flowing freely behind her as she began to gain on him. He was already on the ladder, already three rungs up by the time she reached it. Sucking in a breath, she lept forward, her arms outstretched and her feet dangling perilously beneath her as her fingers wrapped around the bottom rung. With the wind working against her, she grabbed the second rung, pulling herself up, her mouth open in a twisted scream lost in the wind as the ladder moved, carrying her away from the train tracks and across building, people, landmarks, and motorcars beneath her as if they were part of another world. She reached for the next rung, gripping it and pulling as the pain in her side began to dominate her. Yelping, she slipped and found herself hanging by one arm as the airship soared overhead. She cursed again, regaining her grip and pulling herself up another rung. Her feet touched the bottom rung and finally, she began to make some progress. The cloaked man wasn’t far ahead of her; he was having his own trouble climbing a moving rope ladder. She moved upward with little to no idea what she was going to do, but her next course of action was decided as a bullet whizzed past her head. She shrieked as her feet lost purchase and she found herself hanging again, now in mid-air and nowhere to go, the stranger pointing iron right at her head. Fortunately, he had his own troubles and was forced to grip the rung as the ladder shook, the airship hitting a pocket of turbulence.

He took aim again, firing, but missing again as his accuracy was affected by the shaking of the ladder. Another shot, this one nearly hitting home; Sheena screamed again as the lead tore through the outer layer of her right forearm; practically a hammer blow despite it barely touching her. The ladder shook again, and to her utter shock, the man dropped the revolver. She tried to reach for it as it fell, but missed entirely as it dropped into the night. With new resolve she drew her dagger, gripped it between her teeth and began to ascend, quicker now as she reached the man’s feet. He unsuccessfully kicked at her and she managed to dodge, her stomach lurching as she nearly lost her balance. Off in the distance, she saw the tertiary spire coming into view. So that’s where they docked this thing, of course; a station with little to no regulation. Where better to hide a giant rugging airship? As they passed over a slightly taller structure, she took her chance and ascended one more rung; removing the dagger from her mouth, she gripped it firmly in her left hand and drove it into the man’s calf. Even above the winds she could hear him howling in pain and felt his boot slam against her face as he fell from the ladder. She followed suit, dropping from the ladder, both of them tumbling across the rooftop and coming to a stop about ten feet away from eachother. Slowly and painfully, she climbed to her feet just in time to see the man dusting his cloak off.

“You’re persistent, little girl,” He huffed. “Old Jaf isn’t worth it, you know.”

“I don’t work for him,” Sheena said as she leveled the knife in front of her, ready to fight even though she had no fight left in her. The man furrowed his eyebrows and then shook his head.

“And you truly expect me to believe that?” He demanded. “Why else would you be looking for her?”

“My business is my own,” Sheena growled. “And I suggest you mind yours.”

“Strange assertion,” He mused. “But if you don’t work for Old Jaf, why would you go so far as to use the deadliest substance known to man on a catwalk just to catch me, and then leap onto a moving train?”

Sheena sighed and looked about. The airship was coming around, heading straight for him. She couldn’t take the man in a fight, not in her condition and it wouldn’t be long before he was back on the ladder. She could see him favoring that left leg, but she still doubted that she could get the drop on him. There was no choice now but to take her chances and come clean.

“I seek her, because she is important to me,” Sheena said, sucking in a breath and pursing her lips.

“Important to you how? One street urchin is just as another, though I have my doubts that she is such, given her ignorance.”

“Her ignorance grows on you,” Sheena rolled her eyes. “Her name is Lyra. Lyra Rossi. My name is Sheena Rossi. The girl is my sister.”

“Your…sister?” The man said as the words sunk in. “You mean-”

“I do,” Sheena nodded. “And now, stranger, I require use of your airship.”