[ 05 ]

PANDORA'S BOX had been opened, it seemed, as they entered her room. Decks of cards were sprayed everywhere, a stray Joker resting on the caseless pillow, a nine of Spades tucked between the space behind the one chair, just poking out. The motel room itself must've been already dirty, but it seemed that Pandora's presence alone had plunged her surroundings into a chaos that was almost unbelievable. Finn wondered how long it had taken to accumulate such a mess, or whether it hadn't been her, though a sneaking suspicion indicated otherwise.

Judging by what he'd heard from her so far, it really wasn't out of the realm of possibility for her madness to have spilled out so far, soaking into Pandora's outside along with her insides. Perhaps he'd misunderstood them, given his evidently dumb mind, yada yada - he hoped that he misunderstood them, because spending the night with a crazy card girl certainly wasn't and had never been on his bucket list. It was quickly becoming clearer that Pandora was not the girl's real name, though it fit her perfectly. Not many parents would want to call their child after the first human that brought chaos to Earth.

But, after all, not many parents would leave their daughter to rot in a motel room with nothing but a few stacks of cards to keep her company.

"You tell me to be at ease, Scarlet. I can't sleep, you know."

Lying on the bed with her back to them, Finn had been so immersed in their surroundings that he'd forgotten Pandora was even there. When he looked closer at the walls, he realised that there were streaks of blood all over the beige paint. More and more questions built up in his head, until he was just staring at her in disbelief, eyes wide and mouth pursed into a tight line.

At last, he mumbled a question. "What's your name?" An involuntary flush spread over his cheeks as Narcissa cast him an impervious half-smile, her face oddly pale without its usual dark red lipstick.

Turning around, Pandora cast him a strange look, her face looking as if it were glowing from the inside. Eyebrows raised, she let out a small hmph. "No-one has ever asked me that before, Midas." Her amethyst gaze swung over to Narcissa, whose expression was that of cold indignance, her lip curling.

"I don't need to ask. I know," she snarled, dark eyes flashing threateningly. "Lysandra Lailey, born in the pig sty that is East Semper. Your parents threw you out as a kid when you started screaming and scratching the walls. They were religious, but bad people. Thought you were possessed or some shit." Sitting back, the chair squeaked miserably, a rusted stray spring peeking through.

A smug grin tugged at her lips.

For a moment, Pandora - Lysandra, rather - was silent, evidently shellshocked, before her mouth split open and she began to scream. Looking over at Narcissa, Finn forced himself to remain calm, taking several deep breaths that filled his lungs with musty, stale air. He decided to help, noting Narcissa's indifference. Though she was raking at the wall, Lysandra wasn't doing much more, apart from screaming. No thrashing, no fighting. It would be easy to stop her - perhaps that was why Narcissa was doing nothing.

Taking Narcissa's superhuman strength into account, Finn realised that was why she wasn't helping. Even when they'd been children, she'd stuck to the training dummies and punching bags, leaving them on the floor with sand pouring from the edges and the leather torn to pieces. Unless, of course, she was just too lazy or didn't care enough to help, but something told him that she was not much short of a friend to Lysandra.

Though their voices were clipped and strange, he could tell that they were both holding back, and there was some sort of history between them that he was missing.

Taking Lysandra's arms, he held her back as she screamed. Narcissa had finally stood up, ripping off a length of fabric from her shirt and tying it around Lysandra's mouth. Blood soaked through the fabric almost immediately as the girl bit down hard on her lip, and Finn cringed, standing perfectly still in order to keep her arms out of contact for anyone. Despite there not being much meat on her bones, he knew not to underestimate her.

If there was one thing he'd learnt, it was to never underestimate an opponent, no matter how weak they seemed. A tactic that had won him many fights, and guaranteed a top spot in the country's list of young athletes. People argued that he didn't deserve it, and Finn couldn't help but find himself agreeing, staying quiet whenever someone mentioned superpowers, wondering when he would be excused. Narcissa, as incredible at everything as she was, couldn't pick the same excuse that he had.

Enhanced agility, superhuman strength and intelligence - there was no room for her on the rankings, because she created her own. Had she been even at the tip of some list, people would've been furious. At least with Finn, his power couldn't lean into his sporting abilities as much. In Narcissa's case, everything was possible - and they knew it, every last one of them. Maybe that was one of the reasons why they hated her so much, or Finn was wrong, wrong as he'd been all his life and was doomed to be.

Wrong.

The word was decadent on his lips, and he tasted it in his mouth. It left a bitter taste that wouldn't go away, as much as he tried to will it to. It was only when Narcissa glared at him, tearing the cloth away from the now-silent girl that he realised that he'd murmured it aloud.

He wondered how long Lysandra had been quiet for, while he just sat there, useless. Judging from Narcissa's expression, it must've been quite a while. Or she was just impatient. It was hard to tell, with that disgruntled look being a permanent mask over her sharp features.

"Lysandra."

Narcissa's voice was low, almost pleading.
"At ease, soldier. At ease!" her tone rose slightly louder and more desperate.

The other girl slowly shook herself into consciousness, oak wood skin tinged with grey, pale and sick-looking. Spluttering, she stared hazily up at the ceiling, head resting on Finn's lap as he tried to make her sit up. He was unsure of what to do - the little medical training they'd had would be useless in this situation. They were superheroes, damn it, not doctors - they hadn't been created for this purpose.

"At ease," Lysandra mumbled at least, her voice like a whip. Turning to face the wall, she dug her nail into the plaster. Finn's stomach lurched as he read what she'd carved into the wall, the weight of her body suddenly far heavier than before. He promptly wondered whether he, too, was going crazy.

She was carving a skull into the wall, and evidently had been for a long time. Rows upon rows of them, some crossing over each other, others miles apart, far bigger or smaller than the others. Some of them had been carved with penknives, others with her own fingernails - but there was one thing that recurred in all of them without fail. The skulls didn't have the crossbones that Finn had seen in movies - no, these had jagged, gaping mouths, stained with what looked suspiciously like blood.

The real question was whose blood it was, and frankly, Finn didn't particularly want the answer to that.

"Lysandra?" he whispered slowly, fumbling for the words. She ignored him completely, the only sound in the room her nails taking against the plaster. Next to him, Narcissa let out an annoyed sigh that was almost a growl, studying both of them with harsh anger in her eyes. They were smooth onyx in the dim, flickering light, the lamp on the ceiling hissing sparks every few minutes, occasionally making them all jump.

Only Lysandra seemed unfazed, her eyes trained stubbornly on the wall, fingertips smeared with a light, already dried layer of blood that Finn hadn't noticed before. Or maybe he had, and had subconsciously ignored it, trying to convince himself that all was still well. But it wasn't, and all three of them knew it.

Far from them, in the shadows, he thought he could feel the burn of eyes on the back of his neck, but when he turned around, there was nothing. He must've imagined it, exhaustion from the past week having hit him as he sat on the screaming bed, springs poking out from the mattress.

Rubbing his fingertips on the blanket, he bit his lip as Lysandra turned around, a sudden flash of colour staining her light brown skin. It reminded him of the festivals he'd seen on TV, with crowds cheering and people laughing, vivid paint coating every surface. But she was not laughing, her expression stern and amethyst eyes earnest. Still, Narcissa's coldness dwarfed her in comparison, making her look like somewhat of a fluffy bunny next to a circling viper.

Well, maybe not a fluffy bunny, but something certainly less volatile than Narcissa. There was some sort of comfort to him that Lysandra was so...unpredictable, at least from what he'd witnessed. He watched both of them, realising how much power was in the room, rippling through the walls and crashing through the floorboards. And for a moment, he was scared of it, scared of everything he had ever seen and scared of everything that he had ever done, until he felt eyes on him, but not the ones he'd felt before.

These were much warmer, and as he searched for it, Finn realised that the source was right next to him, from a gaze that was almost black. As he looked at Narcissa, taking in every detail of her face, from the light dusting of freckles on her nose that was exposed from her lack of makeup to the sheen of lipgloss that hadn't been quite removed.

She'd pulled her black hair out of the ponytail, leaving it to skim her shoulders. It was only when he blinked that Finn realised during that time, she'd been looking as intently at him, a light uncharacteristic blush staining her tanned cheeks. As soon, however, as she noticed him looking back, Narcissa clasped her hands, drawing a chair. Her feet were heavy on the ground as she shifted from the bed, lips pursed.

"Pandora. Get up," she shook the other girl, wrenching her out of the bed as the mattress squealed beneath them.

Bleary-eyed, Lysandra hauled herself up, seemingly unaware of the whole event that had just occurred. Her hands were clean, as clean as someone in her living condition's could've been, making Finn wonder whether he'd imagined it all along. But the look on Narcissa's face told him that she'd witnessed it too, albeit many more times than he had.

One time was enough for Finn to never want to see again, but he knew that if Narcissa was to help him, he'd see it more times than he could count.

Now apparently perfectly fine, Lysandra sat up, braids dishevelled and cheeks flushed.

"What d'ya want from me?" she reached for a deck of cards, fiddling with them absent-mindedly.

In mild disbelief, Finn watched the colours soar and the cards take on the shapes of birds, flapping around the room and landing back in her palm.

Narcissa heaved a sigh. "He needs your help-"

"We," Finn interrupted, giving her an
exasperated look. Rolling her near-black eyes,

Narcissa continued, acknowledging him stubbornly. "We need your help, Pandora."

Lysandra nodded agonisingly slowly, dropping the cards onto her lap to comb through her hair with her fingers. Above them, a fungus was dripping onto the floor from the ceiling and Finn saw Narcissa stifle a gag, standing up from the bed to pull out the burner phone she'd had before.

"Room 678, Stellar Motel. 463 Hartsicke Harbour. We're here, Pandora. Just like you wanted," she said sharply.

"And what did you want?" Lysandra asked, amethyst eyes blazing, a card fluttering around the light on the ceiling.

"Same as you. Justice."

The purple-eyed girl sat back, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Justice for yourself, huh? You're selfish, let's just face it." Waving her hand in front of Finn's face, Lysandra put a finger over his lips. "Hear me? Cissy  - your girlfriend? She's selfish. She don't care, Midas."

Looking over at Narcissa for help, Finn forced a reply out from his mouth. "I don't need her to."

Lysandra raised an eyebrow teasingly, by didn't elaborate.

"We are going to regain control over Crux. Lysandra - I know what they did to you. Won't it help, seeing an empire fall?" Narcissa asked, her voice harsh, the grit of sandpaper.

Involuntarily, the other girl twitched, the cards falling to the floor and then soaring around the room.

"I don't know what you're talking 'bout," she said eventually, eyes snapping shut.

"You don't need to," Finn found himself saying.

"Look, if you help..." his voice cracked slightly, and his cheeks burned with gold. "I'll give you my touch."

"Finn - you can't. She'll get us all discovered," Narcissa retorted. He still hadn't gotten used to how pale her face looked without lipstick, despite her skin still being the same tan gold. It almost resembled the colour of his blood.

Perhaps Lysandra had been right about her selfishness, but in that moment, Finn couldn't find the room to care.

"Leave him be, Scarlet. I like that deal, huh?" Lysandra purred, eyes filling with greed at the thought of so much gold.

"One more thing-"

"What?" her purple eyes narrowed to slits. "So much work," she whined, but let him speak.

"Lead me to Wildfire and the Siren."

[ end ]