The rush of air felt like freedom. Here, falling from the highest point in the city, there was no need for pretences or calculating. There was only survival instinct. Celia counted to three as they plummeted down, followed by fearful shouts from the guards leaning over the balcony with their eyes wide. And then she pulled on the ignition mechanism. The engine in the jetpack coughed and died.

Celia cursed and pulled again, but nothing happened while they plunged, gaining speed towards a more expanded lower platform. Now Celia desperately tugged on the ignition, trying to bring the engine to life. She felt the stranger pushing on her, slightly changing the direction of their dive, and they narrowly missed the roof's edge of the building on the lower platform. The metal wing clipped a few of the brown terracotta tiles. It turned out that even without his wings, the man had much better coordination in the air than Celia.

But then the jetpack finally came to life with a roar, pushing them into an uncontrollable spiral away from the platforms and towards the open sea. They rotated with crazy speed, and the stranger screamed, but Celia laughed. Her heart was racing, and it's been a long while since she felt such a wild rush of adrenaline and a taste of salty sea breeze on her lips.

After a couple of seconds, they managed to stop their rotation and smooth their glide. They were still diving down, but the wings allowed them to slide at a less severe angle, and Celia truly enjoyed the ride for a moment. She looked at the Iron Shore, a metal monstrosity reaching impossible heights with everything crammed together, hoping it would hold together. But for how long? They should never let that go on for so long, living with the danger of collapse every day.

When they reached lower levels, Celia spotted a bunch of young people, probably drunk, shouting and pointing their fingers at them. She grinned and made a barrel in the air, earning loud applause and whistles. The stranger called something angrily to her ear.

"I know, I know! I've got everything under control!" she shouted, although she knew she didn't. The winged jetpack was still working by some miracle, but they both felt they were approaching sea level too fast. There was no way they could lose all that velocity in time to land safely. But Celia knew it would be the issue, so she planned accordingly.

She directed them towards the port, where all the ships were moored, although they were still too far and wouldn't reach them before losing all their altitude. But they only needed to get close enough.

"Hold on tight!" she shouted to her companion, and when they were just a few yards away from the third level, she grabbed the straps fastening the jetpack to her back, and with one strong tug, she pulled them free. A sudden weight was taken from her shoulders, and the machine whizzed away from them, spiralling uncontrollably towards the sea below.

As they plummeted without wings, Celia pulled out her hook gun and fired toward the second platform. Luckily, the blade anchored itself somewhere because their plunge abruptly stopped. However, due to the high speed of their fall, the tug was so violent, Ceilia's shoulder exploded with sudden pain, and she could no longer feel her fingers. She was sure they would fall to their death as she lost a grip on the only thing that tethered them to the platform above, but when the painful haze withdrew, giving her her sight back, she discovered they were slowly swaying on the wind a few yards above the lower platform. Surprised, she looked up.

The stranger held on to her gun, his muscles tensed, and his jaw clenched.

"Thanks, Lady Luck, you have quick reflexes," she huffed with a strained laugh. Her right shoulder was pulsing with excruciating pain and stuck out on a weird angle, so it looked like she had dislocated it. She gave herself time to take a few deep breaths and then reached with her left hand toward the gun. "Keep your hold on it, would you?" she said through her gritted teeth while her hand slowly made her way over the stranger's hand, and she found the right button. The rope started to extend slowly, lowering them down towards the littered narrow alleyway below.

Unfortunately, they didn't get all the way down, as they reached the end of the rope while they were still at around the one-storey height above the metal grate below. Celia groaned. "That's as low as we can go. Get ready for a jump."

The man looked down at her, puzzled. Celia only huffed a laugh. "Three. Two." Her fingers fumbled on the gun, looking for the right switch, and she grinned when she found it. "One." She popped the button, and the anchor released the blades, losing its grip.

They fell in a heap of limbs and painful groans, and the metal grate trembled under their weight. Celia's vision was once more flooded with white as her shoulder exploded in pain, almost making her faint. She desperately clung to consciousness, and her vision slowly returned. She turned her head to look at her companion, who was still tethered to her. "Are you alive?"

The man's eyes were closed, and his face was pale, but he groaned painfully.

"Good. I'd hate to go to all that trouble to save you just to let you die here." She reached with her left hand into her boot, pulled out a small knife, and quickly cut the rope which bound them together.

The man growled, rolled to his stomach and tried to stand, but his arms trembled, and with a moan, he gave up. The bandages on his back were soaked with blood.

"Damn, that looks bad." Celia heaved herself to her knees, ignoring her pain. "We need a cavalry here." She reached under her shirt and pulled out a little whistle on a thin chain. "Let's hope we are close enough." She put the whistle to her mouth and blew. The sound was high-pitched and echoed through the dark alley. Celia only hoped it wouldn't alarm the wrong crowd. She lowered herself to lean her uninjured shoulder on the factory's wall. The stone was warm from all the furnaces still lit up inside.

She looked at the man lying next to her. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was heavy. His blood-soaked back was slowly rising and falling. She gingerly touched his shoulder, and he opened his dark eyes, looking up at her. "Hold on. I'll get you out of here. I promise."

He only made a low rumbling sound and closed his eyes again. But he did not shy away from her touch. Celia whistled a few more times for good measure, and soon she was rewarded with a distant shriek and rustle of feathers.

"Finally! We are here!" she called.

A red and blue blur rushed into the alley and barely managed to stop before crashing into Celia.

"Boss! Sir Prancer to the rescue!" The parrot shrieked and landed on Celia's outstretched left arm.

"My hero!" she cooed, stroking little head. "I need you to fetch Zed. Get him here fast. And tell everyone we are flying out now."

The bird cocked his head. "Crackers?"

"Once I'm back on Percy, I'll get you so many crackers you'll get sick. Now, go!"

The parrot shrieked in protest as Celia threw her arm up, forcing him to jump into the air. He circled above her, then screeched, flying away, "Red alert! All hands on deck! Red alert!"

Celia sighed and leaned her head on the wall. Now that Sir Prancer found them, they were almost safe. Even though the guards saw her jumping off the balcony, she bet it would take some time before they realised what had happened and sent law enforcers after them. She smirked. Taking a fast way down was the right choice.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a light touch on her hand. She looked down at her companion, who was now looking at her intently.

"What is it?" she asked.

And then something touched her mind. Her eyes went wide, and she instinctively recoiled, but the sensation was so gentle as if someone was lightly tapping at the window. She frowned, not breaking eye contact with the stranger. "What are you... How..."

She was flooded with a sense of gratitude. It wasn't like listening to the words, more like feeling someone's intent. And somehow, she knew it belonged to that strange man. As he watched her reaction, a slight smirk played on his lips, and the intent changed from gratitude to mild amusement and a sense of hope that seemed to brighten the tired, pale face.

Celia looked away, and the connection was broken. "What the..." When she looked back, it returned as if it had always been there. Amusement was now the primary emotion she sensed, so contagious it almost made her smile too. But she frowned instead. "How are you doing this?"

Amusement changed into a smug sense of pride. But before Celia could inquire more, the sound of heavy steps reached their ears, and the grate underneath them started vibrating in the rhythm of the rushed stride. Celia turned to face the alley entrance and pulled out her revolver with her left hand.

Luckily, the person who showed up was Zed.

Celia lowered her gun and almost cried out with joy. "Zed! What took you so long?"

"Feathered Friend demanded crackers," he responded calmly and cocked his head, looking from her to the stranger.

"We have a situation," she explained. "We need to get out of here and fast. But first... Can you please fix my shoulder?"

Zed crouched next to her, looking at her with concern. "It looks bad."

"It needs to be popped back in."

"Are you sure?"

"Please, Zed. We don't have much...." Before she finished the sentence, Zed grabbed her shoulder and pushed. Celia screamed as her vision again exploded in a white haze of pain. But it was over soon, and only a huge relief was left as most of her pain was gone, as her shoulder popped back in place. "Woah, that was... thanks for the warning."

"You're welcome, Boss." He looked at the stranger. "Are we taking him with us?" Zed frowned. "What happened to his wings."

"Long story. Please be careful. He's been through a lot."

Zed nodded, and with a gentleness surprising for a man his size, he heaved the stranger up, putting his arm around his shoulders.

"Now, let's get out of here."