After a soakingly long trek constantly bombarded by merciless raindrops and a near-death experience with a reckless cab that had decided it was a good idea to have a stroll during a thunderstorm, we finally ducked under a wooden overhang drenched to the splinter.

Though the rain smeared most of it, I faintly made out the faded lettering: Downtown Depot. Two blinded windows cast orange flecks that danced along the water, and the curved wooden door let out a blast of warm air as Albert pushed it open.

A single light bulb dangled from one of the many wires strewn along the framework ceiling dimly illuminated the small store, its wooden walls lined with shelves full of cluttered junk: odd jars that swished with mysterious liquids, oversized containers that fought for an inch of space, and rusting cans that reeked of expired food. A thin layer of water vapor hung over us, fueled by glimpses of metal pipes that ran along the walls and over the shelves, casting an ethereal yellow glow as light streamed through it.

"Everything runs on hydro, huh?" I said.

"Mm," Albert mused. "It's all we got, and besides, thunderstorms like these are free fuel."

He gestured toward the few dull metal buckets that sat sulkingly outside the overhang, their figures drenched and staring up at the sky, wondering when the endless pelting would come to a stop.

"Albert!" A slim man with neatly cropped dark hair, adorned with a simple plaid shirt that complemented his blue trousers popped up from behind the counter. "See you've brought some friends."

"Yeah, we're stopping by here to wait out the rain," he said, gesturing toward a thunderous boom that sent shivers throughout my body. "A tough one, eh?"

Spotting the water that had begun seeping into the store, the man glared at us and shouted. "Don't just stand there by the doorway! All the warm hair is going out and water's about to flood my entire store."

"Ah, sorry about that," Albert said as he shuffled into the store, stomping his feet on a worn rug that had suffered for far too long, muddy splotches staining the fuzzy wool, and the ruffled strings along the sides were a tangled mess. We quickly followed him into the store, Ken shutting the door behind us just before a gust of wind brought an onslaught of rain.

A small round table was located to our left, its skeleton a fragile remnant of its former self, and we each took a seat on the four chairs surrounding it. It was almost like they were expecting us, but I was glad to lay back for a while.

Carefully pulling up his coat, Albert cradled Camila's lifeless form and placed it on the table, resting her on her side so that water began draining from the gears. He stood up and headed toward one of the shelves strewn with tools and mechanical parts over the sides.

"Ollie! Mind if I borrow a screwdriver and a few scraps?" He asked.

Ollie glanced at him absentmindedly, giving him a curt nod before returning to his work—counting coins, organizing papers, and he leaned back in a cushioned chair with a wrinkled newspaper, ink smearing some of the text.

I sunk into the chair, resting my hands on my pants before realizing that a red hue had seeped into the brown fabric, a stick, gooey feeling made my insides squirm. There would be some bandages somewhere around the shelves, right? My eyes drifted over to the array of shelves against the walls, eventually landing on the shelf behind the counter where a beige roll of bandages lodged in between two green-tinted bottles of medicine.

Making sure not to touch the table as I stood up, I limped over to the counter, careful not to drip any more blood on the floor. "Could I borrow a few bandages for my hands?"

Ollie looked up from his newspaper, oak flecks dancing irritably at me as he muttered a response. "One silver and you get the whole roll."

"B-but I just need a few," I protested, flashing my bloody hands, but he didn't even bat an eye at them—either his newspaper was eating his eyes out, or he could have cared less.

"We don't retail anything individually," he said. "Even if we did, it wouldn't be for free."

"Didn't you just..." I looked over at Albert, searching for a hint of sympathy, but he only gave me a shrug as he headed back to the table cradling a heap of metal scraps and tools.

"He's a long-time regular here," Ollie explained, his gaze drifting back to the newspaper. "Since he puts my utility section out of stock almost every week, I can afford to give him some leeway here and there. You, my friend, I don't know you, and trust doesn't form its roots quickly."

Seeing that he was beyond negotiation, his mind also meandering away from the conversation (but perhaps it was never there to begin with), I turned to Matilda who had been examining a row of pretty souvenirs along one of the higher shelves, miniature models of capital propaganda. A scowl etched itself onto her face, a look that threatened to kill that was only held back by her conscience.

"Matilda, toss me a silver will ya?" I said, and she perked up from her staring contest with a dummy flame that quivered under her gaze. "I need a few bandages for my hands."

"Bandages?" She snorted. "You don't need that for a little scrape; you just need to grit your teeth and wipe those silly tears off your face."

I sighed and raised my hands, cradling them in my soaked shirt that now eagerly devoured the red. "Whether it hurts or not isn't the issue, there just happens to be a freaking ton of blood!"

Her brows shot up, the smirk tugged down into a gaping expression that could only stutter. "W-well, on second thought... a bandage does sound pretty swell."

She reached into her jacket pocket, fishing out the coin pouch that seemed to have a visible dent in it, its stomach growling as she tossed me a silver. The coin was like an acrobat, flipping and turning in mid-air with the grace of a ballerina on a glossy stage, but I was not one for agility.

Before my mind could reel in what had happened, the coin bounced off my outstretched arms—I dared not to catch it with my hands—and landed on the ground with a clink, spinning for a few moments before it tipped over like a candle that had been blown out.

Well, this is an awkward position, I thought as I plucked the coin off the ground with two of my less bloody fingers. Still, the coin retained its silver glint accompanied by a hint of dark red that flowed through the crevices.

"Could I purchase the roll of bandages?" I asked meekly, eyeing the silver that seemed to be turning into a miniature tomato pancake by the second, if there was such a thing.

With speed to rival a sloth's, he glanced up from the newspaper, his nose wrinkling at the sight of the coin.

"Put it down here," he said as he pushed himself off the chair and fetched the roll, slamming it next to where the coin seeped blood into the counter.

Graciously accepting the bandages, I held against my chest as I stumbled back to the table, placing it next to where Albert was working on Camila.

Tearing a bandage and wrapping it gingerly around gashes, I glanced at the cardinal, sparks dancing along its plating as Albert shoved a screwdriver into a crevice and a stream of water flooded out. Camila seemed to sputter for a moment, but her chest no longer rose with her mechanical heartbeast, and the light that had faded from her once brilliant eyes. Only a vacant stare returned my worried look as I peered at the dented plating that had lost most of its color, and her wrinkled feathers, twitching slightly as Albert adjusted her.

"Anyways," he said, his gaze fixated on the cardinal. "What really are you three doing here? Nobody just shows up with a goddamn capital emblem every day."

"Well, we'd just like to keep what we know to ourselves," Matilda said, clutching her jacket pocket as if Albert would lurch out at any moment to steal it. "As far as you know, we're getting passports to attend the Elemental Festival, and that's all you need to know."

Albert just smiled slyly, his eyes dancing humorously he said, "Someone who reveals only the necessary elements. I respect that."

"What are you doing here?" She spat out.

He shrugged and briefly glanced up from Camila as he adjusted one of her skewed head plates. "Every person has their own price, and downtown happens to satisfy my needs at a reasonable cost. I clean out a couple shelves every few days, right Ollie?"

He grunted from behind his newspaper, a hint of grateful inflection in his otherwise indifferent tone.

A thunderous boom racked the store, almost like an earthquake had struck as the shelves wobbled dangerously and glass rattled against each other. The yellow glow of the lightbulb flickered, a blink of darkness that enveloped us before it went out for good.

"Oh, crud!" Ollie cursed as I heard him stand up—he attempted to, at least, as I cringed when a bottle whistled through the dark and shattered into a shower of glass. "The lysis chamber must have overloaded and ruptured a pipe."

Another flicker, not the lights but an afterimage of two brilliant suns etched themselves into my mind.

"Just a little more," Albert said as he poked and prodded Camila with the screwdriver guided only by feel, glimpses of life returning to her mechanical body as the gentle hum of gears accompanied the gloomy rain beating down and brief amber flickers illuminated the darkness.

"Give a good knock on her head, alright?" he asked, gesturing towards me during the brief moments of light.

I extended my hands, wrapped in the scratchy bandages that made skin want to turn inside out, and gave Camila a firm pound. Expecting her head to loll lopsided or one of the metal platings to slip off, I winced when the sharp edge of her brow pierced into my bandage, searing the gashes that screamed in agony.

I had no time to cry out in pain when her eyes fizzed and the amber sparks began to cackle with light, the gears hungrily eating at each other's teeth as she stood up. "Ah, good as new."

"That won't be the store if I don't find the blasted chamber," Ollie grumbled angrily. "Could you pop open the blinds for a minute?"

Albert nodded and headed to the windows cautiously, his path only faintly illuminated by Camila's stare.

With a swift motion, the blinds shot up and released the floodgates as light streamed through the glass, passing through the raindrops that cast a kaleidoscope of colors on the floor. It was like a ballet of rainbows dancing along the wooden stage, and Camila fluttered excitedly, perhaps because of the spectacle but more so doing a happy dance that she could even see the spectacle.

"Huh, the sun finally decided to come out of hiding," Albert peered out the foggy window, the building across a mesh of blurred colors and wobbly shapes. "We should get going then. But Ollie, if you need my help, I can stay here for a bit."

"Nah, it's just a little leak," he stared at a crying pipe worriedly, droplets of water rippling against a small puddle on the ground. "This'll be a great time and back killer."

"I'll make sure to stop by some more later this week," Albert quipped. "Clean a few extra shelves out."

A chuckle escaped from Ollie's lips, and he averted his gaze to hide a smile that crept onto his face. "I would appreciate that."

The three of us stood up, Camila hovering next to me, and Albert swung open the door. A blast of wet morning air smacked me in the face as the sun painted orange and yellow hues along the sky, the sun itself hiding behind the buildings. A thick fog had draped over the buildings like a blanket and as the sun's rays streamed through the water vapor, it cast a surreal atmosphere: only a few paces of visibility coated in a layer of fog that stuck to the skin.

The building across almost looked like a large piece of bubble wrap, large bubbles of dew collecting on its side that rolled down like beads of sweat. A few figures trickled along the street, stepping out as the brief storm was over; but otherwise, only the sound of muffled footsteps and gentle splashes filled the air, along with the gentle whir of gears as Camila flew around in circles but I was starting to get used to the bird. And it seemed she was, too, as she settled down on the same shoulder again.

"We've taken a slight detour, so it'll be a good walk before we arrive," Albert said, peering down the street.

Water flowed freely through the crevices of the crumbling cobblestone pavement, stone bricks jutting out in random intervals, and no part was free of the winding cracks that split rock in two. Patches of weeds and little grass growing between the crevices yawned in the beaming sun, taking a cool sip of fresh rainwater before soaking their little bodies in the plentiful rays.

A few pipes that ran along the buildings had suffered puncture wounds, water trickling out of some while others fueled gushing waterfalls that formed little lakes on the side of the street. Above them hung drooping wires that had sunk even more after a vicious beating by the rain, cackling with irregular power surges before falling silent. A few had snapped in two, smashing into a window on one side and draping over a colorful overhang that boasted fresh food—only that the stands had tipped over and littered the ground with bunches of vegetables and fruit.

And was that a mango? I squinted, making out the distinct gradient of red and orange with a hint of green at its tip. What a shame, I thought. But then again, it wasn't like we had the leisure to go on a shopping spree.

The shopkeeper had stepped out as well, assessing the damage, and I didn't even need to squint to know he was less than happy.

"I can't be..." Albert said, and I followed his gaze down the street where three silhouettes materialized within the fog.

"What can't be?" Matilda asked, and Ken regarded him in a similar fashion, unsure of his sudden change in demeanor.

The three silhouettes approached closer, their gaze not at us but along the streets as they glanced here and there, searching for something. One was adorned with an assortment of tattoos that slithered along his exposed arms, wearing only a damp tank top, and the two others wore rough shirts strewn with patches and stains.

Their bitter gaze drifted from the overturned food stands to the leaking pipes and eventually landed on me, the tattooed man's dark stare drilling into my head. But no, he was looking at Albert, the dark flecks flickering dangerously in even darker depths, as he stalked forwards, his cronies following close behind.

"We meet again, don't we, Albert?" the man sneered, his lip curling up into a crooked smile. "You know what I'm here for—"

"Run!" he shouted at nobody, and broke off into a mad sprint, one leg grabbing at the pavement before the other left.

The three, taken aback by his lack of words, dashed towards him and one caught his foot on a vegetable leaf that seemed to grab at his ankle, giving me enough time to pick my legs up and leap after Matilda and Ken.

The wind bit at my face, coating it in a layer of water vapor and chill as I scampered down the street panting in between strides. I didn't quite know who we were running from or why, but perhaps it was just another unspoken rule: when you weren't friends with someone in downtown, you'd be best to make a break for it instead of stick around.