Roxanne’s pace was brisk, her boots crunching against the gravel path as she led Claire away from the estate, toward the sprawling gardens in the back. The evening air was cool, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers, but the mood felt far from tranquil.

  “Where are we going?” Claire asked, trying to keep up with her older sister’s long strides.

  “You’ll see,” Roxanne replied curtly, not bothering to slow down or offer further explanation.

  Claire frowned but didn’t press. She knew better than to expect immediate answers from Roxanne when she was like this.

  They weaved through rows of carefully maintained hedges and flowerbeds until the estate itself was out of sight. The path gave way to a wilder part of the garden, where the groundskeepers’ care was less apparent.

  “So,” Claire tried again. “If you don’t use a car, how do you even get to the city?”

  Roxanne let out a dry chuckle, glancing over her shoulder. “You think I drive around in a beat-up van with ‘Gravegirl’ painted on the side?”

  “No,” Claire admitted, though she couldn’t help but imagine it. “But you can’t exactly fly either so how-”

  “Patience, kid,” Roxanne interrupted, brushing aside a low-hanging branch as they approached a secluded area of the garden. “You’re about to find out.”

  They stopped at a spot that looked completely unremarkable—just an overgrowth of shrubs and scattered leaves. Claire tilted her head, puzzled, as Roxanne knelt down and began pushing aside the debris.

  “What are you—” Claire started, but her words caught in her throat as the faint glimmer of glowing lines began to appear beneath the leaves and branches.

  As Roxanne cleared away the area, the full image of a magic circle came into view. Intricate runes and symbols pulsed faintly with a soft, purple light, etched into the ground itself.

  Claire’s eyes widened. “Whoa. Is that—”

  “A teleportation circle,” Roxanne finished, standing and brushing dirt off her hands. She turned to Claire, her lips curving into a small, mischievous smile.

  Roxanne stepped into the circle, her boots sending a faint ripple through the glowing runes as though they responded to her presence. She motioned for Claire to follow.

  “Get in the circle,” Roxanne said. “And hold still.”

  Claire hesitated for a moment, glancing nervously at the shimmering symbols. “This isn’t gonna, like, blow me up or anything, right?”

  Roxanne smirked. “Only if you mess around. Now get in.”

  With a deep breath, Claire stepped into the circle, standing next to her sister. The faint hum of energy beneath her feet sent a shiver through her legs, but she bit her lip and stayed still.

  Roxanne raised her hand and spoke a few words Claire didn’t recognize. At her words, a burst of dark purple light erupted in her palm, coalescing into the shape of a staff. The lantern staff was a sleek, black metal rod topped with an ornate lantern that flickered to life with a small, eerie purple flame inside.

  Claire couldn’t help but stare. “That’s so cool.”

  Roxanne lowered the bottom of the staff to the exact center of the circle. As soon as it made contact, the runes flared brighter, and a rush of heat swept over them.

  “Hold on,” Roxanne warned, her voice calm but firm.

  Before Claire could ask what she meant, purple fire exploded outward from the circle’s edges, engulfing them both. It wasn’t like normal fire—there was no heat, no pain, just a strange, weightless sensation as if they were being pulled through a swirling void.

  When the flames subsided, the energy dispersed with a faint crackling sound, and Claire blinked against the sudden change in scenery.

  They were no longer in the garden.

  Instead, they stood in a dimly lit alley surrounded by towering buildings, their brick walls adorned with glowing neon signs and holographic advertisements. The hum of activity echoed in the distance—voices, music, and the unmistakable buzz of hovercars zipping past overhead.

  Claire spun around, taking it all in. “Is this Level 2?” It looked so much more vibrant and lived-in compared to Level 1, so many interesting colors and textures. She could barely see the sky down here, all the buildings above seemed to stretch on forever.

  Roxanne rested her staff against her shoulder, her smirk returning. “Welcome to the city.”

  Roxanne led the way out of the alley and onto a quieter street. The vibrant hum of Zenith One surrounded them, but Roxanne didn’t pause to take in the sights. Claire hurried after her, struggling to keep up with her sister’s determined pace.

  “So,” Roxanne began casually, glancing back at Claire, “there’s a bunch of girls having a tea party nearby. I’m taking you to play with them.”

  Claire stopped mid-step, her expression dropping. “A tea party? Seriously?”

  “Yeah,” Roxanne replied, deadpan, though the corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. “You’re gonna love it.”

  Claire scowled, crossing her arms. “I thought I’d get to see you fight a villain or something cool.”

  Roxanne shrugged. “I am gonna fight a villain. Just not yet. That’s later.”

  Claire groaned, dragging her feet as she followed. “Why do we have to do the lame tea party thing first?”

  Roxanne didn’t answer, and her silence was enough to make Claire glance up at her sister’s face. The playful smirk was gone, replaced by a tight, focused expression.

  The streets became quieter as they ventured deeper into the level. Bright lights gave way to dim alleys, and the vibrant bustle of Zenith One was replaced by an eerie stillness. Eventually, they reached a parking lot outside a nondescript warehouse.

  In the center of the lot was a box truck, its sides scuffed and unmarked. Around it, various figures were gathered, villains and criminals of all shapes and sizes, along with their vehicles. A few motorcycles and beat-up cars lined the edges of the lot.

  Claire’s stomach tightened when she spotted the Skullface mercenaries. The skeletal masks were unmistakable, even from a distance.

  “Roxanne…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

  “Quiet,” Roxanne ordered, her tone sharp but steady. “And keep your eyes down.”

  Claire hesitated but obeyed, lowering her gaze as they approached the gathering. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt like every step was bringing her closer to danger she couldn’t escape.

  Roxanne, however, walked with calm confidence, her lantern staff slung casually over her shoulder as though she didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Stick close to me,” Roxanne murmured as they neared the edge of the parking lot. “And don’t say a word.”

  As Roxanne led Claire closer to the crowd, voices began to rise from the criminals, cutting through the tense silence.

  “Who the hell is that?” one of them barked, pointing in their direction.

  “Hey, freak, get lost!” another yelled, his hand already hovering near his weapon.

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  Soon after, recognition dawned on one of the Skullface mercenaries. “That’s Gravegirl! Blast her!”

  Several weapons were raised, and Claire tensed, her heart hammering as she glanced nervously up at Roxanne.

  Roxanne, however, remained calm. She lifted both hands in a gesture of surrender, the lantern staff still balanced casually on her shoulder. “Relax,” she said, her voice cutting through the commotion with chilling clarity. “I’m not here to fight.”

  The criminals hesitated, though their weapons didn’t lower.

  Roxanne gestured to Claire. “I brought you another one. Free of charge.”

  The murmurs grew louder, skeptical and suspicious.

  “Piss off!” one of the men growled.

  “It’s a setup,” another sneered.

  Roxanne shook her head, her tone laced with feigned exasperation. “No tricks. All this little brat does is annoy me, so I’m getting rid of her.” She smirked, her voice dropping just enough to sound sinister. “Consider it a gift for Killwater. I hear he has certain… tastes.”

  The name sent a ripple of reaction through the group. Claire stiffened, her stomach dropping at the mention of someone she instinctively knew was bad news.

  The criminals exchanged glances, their weapons lowering slightly, though skepticism lingered in their eyes.

  “What’s the catch?” one finally demanded.

  “No catch,” Roxanne said smoothly, her expression unreadable. “Just take her and leave me out of it.”

  One of the Skullface mercenaries motioned toward the box truck, his skeletal mask making his expression unreadable but his tone dripping with malice. “Open it up. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

  Another thug complied, yanking the truck’s rear doors open with a metallic groan. Inside, the dim light revealed a small group of young women, their wrists and ankles bound, their faces pale with fear.

  Claire’s breath caught in her throat. She took a step back instinctively, but before she could bolt, Roxanne shoved her forward with just enough force to make it look convincing.

  “Go on, brat,” Roxanne growled, her voice cold.

  Claire stumbled, her knees wobbling as the Skullfaces grabbed her.

  “Wait, no—” Claire started, her voice breaking, but her words were cut off as one of the mercenaries pulled a length of rope from his belt. She struggled weakly, but it was no use.

  “Stop squirming!” one of them snapped, tying her hands behind her back.

  Another forced her forward into the truck, and she nearly tripped on the metal floor. As they secured her in place alongside the others, tears welled in Claire’s eyes.

  Her gaze darted back to Roxanne, standing a few feet away. For a split second, their eyes met. Claire saw no cruelty, no malice in her sister’s expression—only the faintest, reassuring wink.

  The truck doors slammed shut, plunging the interior into darkness.

  The other girls inside shifted uneasily, their soft whimpers the only sound. Claire squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. Then, as the truck jolted to life and began to move, a spark of clarity cut through her panic.

  Roxanne wouldn’t abandon her.

  Claire didn’t fully understand her sister’s plan, but she trusted her. She forced herself to breathe deeply, focusing on the sounds and vibrations around her.

  Her mind began to shift, piecing together the situation. She was inside the enemy’s den now, closer to the villains than she’d ever dared to be. And unlike the other captives, she wasn’t completely defenseless.

  Hidden beneath her dress, secured to her thigh, was her Daddy’s gun. Roxanne had fixed it for her, so if any villain tried anything, they were getting a bullet to the face.

  The truck lurched forward, the rumble of the engine masking the faint whimpers and murmurs of the captives. Claire adjusted her position, trying not to jostle the others as the vehicle’s uneven ride made her stomach churn.

  She glanced at the girl sitting next to her—a slim, pale-faced teenager with straight black hair. Her wrists were bound like Claire’s, but her posture sagged with exhaustion, her head resting lightly against the cold metal wall.

  After a moment of hesitation, Claire whispered, “Are you okay?”

  The girl’s eyes flickered open, dark and tired. She stared at Claire for a moment before answering. “No. But… thanks for asking.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.

  Claire bit her lip. “Do you… know where they’re taking us?”

  The girl shook her head weakly. “No clue. Somewhere bad, probably.” She shifted slightly, wincing as the ropes bit into her skin. “What about you? Why are you here?”

  Claire hesitated. “It’s… complicated.” She decided it was better not to explain her sister’s plan, especially when she wasn’t entirely sure what it was herself. “What’s your name?”

  “Mei,” the girl replied.

  “Claire,” she offered in return, her voice steadying slightly.

  Mei nodded faintly, then let her head rest against the wall again.

  “Are you hurt?” Claire asked, keeping her voice low.

  “Not really,” Mei said, though the way her shoulders drooped told another story. “Just… really tired. I’ve been using my powers for hours before they caught me.”

  “Powers?” Claire leaned in, intrigued despite the situation.

  Mei gave a small nod. “I can heal people, but…” She trailed off, closing her eyes. “Not now. Not until I rest.”

  Claire frowned, glancing at the other captives. “How many did you help?”

  Mei’s lips twitched into a faint, bitter smile. “Enough to make these bastards hate me.”

  Claire felt a pang of sympathy, but also a spark of admiration. Mei didn’t look like much, but she’d fought back in her own way.

  The truck jolted, and Claire leaned closer, lowering her voice to a near whisper. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get out of here.”

  Mei opened one eye, regarding her skeptically. “You sound confident for someone tied up in a truck.”

  Claire offered the smallest of smiles, her resolve growing. “Let’s just say I have a plan.”

  She hoped that was true.

  The truck came to a shuddering stop, and the doors groaned open to reveal a dimly lit warehouse. The air smelled of oil, sweat, and metal, a mix that churned Claire’s stomach. She squinted against the glare of overhead lights as the Skullfaces barked orders, dragging the captives out one by one.

  Claire stumbled as they pulled her from the truck, her tied wrists throwing off her balance. She felt Mei’s arm brush against hers as they were herded toward a crude stage at the center of the warehouse.

  As they climbed the rickety steps, Claire’s gaze darted around. Behind the stage, a chaotic array of lights, cameras, and screens loomed. The setup reminded her of an old movie set, but the sinister undertone made her skin crawl.

  In front of the stage stretched a wide expanse of villains and criminals. They gathered in clusters, their laughter and chatter echoing through the cavernous space. Claire recognized some of them from news reports: fish-faced mutant Razorfins, creepy cultist Apostates, and even a few Skullface elites.

  Her heart pounded as the Skullfaces shoved her into place alongside the other captives. She could feel their eyes on her, appraising her like a piece of meat.

  A booming voice silenced the crowd.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s main event!”

  Claire turned her head sharply toward the source. A tall man with fair skin and dark hair walked onto the stage. He wore a dark formal suit and purple cloak around his shoulders which was immaculate despite the grime of the warehouse.

  “Ringleader,” Mei whispered, her voice trembling.

  Claire didn’t need the warning. She’d heard the name before, Ringleader, a notorious crime boss with a penchant for trafficking and underground auctions.

  Ringleader spread his arms wide, addressing the crowd. “We’ve got a fine selection for you tonight! Fresh faces, untapped potential, and maybe even a little entertainment for those of you who like to see a good fight.”

  The crowd erupted into cheers and jeers, and Claire’s stomach twisted.

  Ringleader stepped closer to the line of captives, his sharp eyes scanning them like a predator surveying prey. He paused in front of Claire, tilting his head as if considering her.

  “Well, what do we have here?” he mused, reaching out to lift her chin. Claire flinched but kept her glare steady, biting back the surge of fear rising in her chest.

  “A feisty one,” Ringleader said with a chuckle, turning back to the audience. “Who wants to make the first bid?”

  One individual raised a hand and walked toward the front of the crowd. He wore red armor plating from head to toe, covered with black straps and holsters holding a plethora of weapons. Killwater, the infamous super assassin, said to have a weapon for every super no matter what powers or defenses they had.

  “Excuse me. Watch out. Get out the way!” he said as he pushed through other criminals to reach the stage. There was some sort of tech in his helmet which changed his voice to be deeper. He scanned the stage with a hand to chin before pointing at Claire. “I want her, full send, one million credits!”

  The room stilled for a moment before murmurs broke out among the villains. A few shook their heads, clearly unwilling to challenge the offer. Others looked tempted but wary, none wanting to cross Killwater over a single captive.

  After a tense pause, Killwater smirked. “Looks like she’s all mine,” he declared, gesturing to the Skullfaces.

  Claire’s heart sank as they grabbed her roughly, dragging her down from the stage and toward a side door. She glanced back, her eyes searching for Mei or any sign of help, but the other captives were still on display, their fates yet to be decided.

  Once inside a smaller, dimly lit room, Killwater shut the door with a loud clank. The Skullfaces stood guard outside, leaving him alone with Claire. He took his helmet off, revealing a face riddled with scars and lesions to the point that there was barely any normal skin left. He placed the helmet down on a nearby table, dingy and made of bare metal, laden with syringes and bottles.

  “Alright, princess,” he said, his tone mockingly sweet as he approached her. “Let’s get a better look at you.”

  Claire stiffened as he reached for her. Her mind raced, instincts screaming for her to act.

  Killwater grabbed the rope binding her wrists and began untying the knot. “Don’t bother trying anything stupid,” he warned, though his focus seemed more on the ropes than her. “There’s nowhere to run, and my boys are right outside.”

  As soon as her wrists were free, Claire swung her hand with all her might, her palm connecting with Killwater’s face in a sharp, satisfying slap.

  The impact startled him and he stumbled back with a curse. “Little bitch!”

  But Claire was already moving. She darted toward the shadows of the room, her small frame slipping behind a stack of crates. Her heart pounded in her chest as she crouched low, trying to stay silent.

  Killwater snarled, rubbing his cheek as he scanned the room. “I wasn’t gonna kill you at first,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. He drew one of the swords sheathed on his back. “But now you’re dead when I find you.”

  Claire’s fingers fumbled for the gun hidden in her dress, her pulse racing. She had only one shot at this, and she couldn’t afford to miss.

  Killwater stalked through the room, his boots thudding against the concrete floor. “You’re only making this harder on yourself,” he growled, knocking over a crate. Bottles and papers clattered to the ground, but Claire didn’t flinch.

  Her back pressed against a wall, hidden behind another stack of crates. Her fingers finally found the cold, familiar grip of the gun strapped under her dress. She pulled it free, the weight heavier in her trembling hands than she expected.

  “You can’t run away, and you can’t stop me.” Killwater’s voice came again, closer this time. “You’re just a baby.”

  Claire’s heart pounded as she tightened her grip on the pistol. She raised the pistol just as Killwater rounded the corner. His grin was wolfish as he caught sight of her. He slashed at her in the same second that she pulled the trigger.

  The shot rang out and Killwater’s head jerked back in a violent fashion. He fell forward through the inertia of his attack and Claire fell with him. She was cut, from shoulder to collarbone, blood spilling down her dress. And there was more blood pooling at her feet, leaking from Killwaters head as he laid limp on the grimy store room floor.

  Claire struggled to get up from between him and the scattered packages behind her. Then, she looked down with her purple dress marred with red, her blonde curls tangled and uneven, and a morbid smirk on her face.

  “A baby with a gun.”