Chapter 1: Chapter I: Permanence

Chapter I: Permanence

It was a good, dark night. No moon or stars above to give away her location below. The woods were quiet, aside from a soft buzz cutting through it, which could be easily mistaken for a harmless cicada…

The electric bike trembled beneath her as it moved through vines and broken terrain, forcing Olivia to fix her goggles once again. There were no roads at this side of the border, even if she could use them.

Mutants had no use for roads, not when their legs outran mankind’s bikes. Yes, it was a risk.

Olivia twisted the throttle, making the bike buzz louder.

But such was the job of deep-diving scouts like her.

Light at the corner of her eyes. It wasn’t bright, but in this darkness, it was bright enough.

She followed it, slowing down as the lights multiplied in the distance, then stopped at the forest’s edge.

The ruins of a building, lit at various spots.

Olivia pulled an old spyglass from her jacket and opened it, bringing it to her eye.

“There you are,” she whispered.

Figures walked in and out of the ruins, their thick, unnaturally colorful skins glowing from the campfires inside. A few of them flew instead—those winged ones were particularly troublesome for her.

Olivia reached for the key with her free hand and turned off the bike, then resumed scanning the place.

They busied themselves with their weapons, sharpening them, making new ones. Mostly spears and clubs, but there were some looted guns as well.

Olivia frowned, stopping the spyglass at a particular mutant that sat by one of the campfires—blue skinned, with spike-like growths along his arms. A spear rested against his shoulder. Something strange in his hands.

Explosives?

Unlikely. He was spinning and poking at it. A bomb would have detonated already.

Then what…

Another creature called him from behind. His fingers drifted aside as he turned to answer, revealing the small object underneath them.

It was oval, made of unpainted wood. A pair of wings amateurishly carved on it.

She knew that shape well. It was a common one in coming-of-age celebrations back home. What was it doing here, though?

Olivia shook her head and closed the spyglass.

A rustle of wings above. The mutant didn’t notice her.

She held her breath, waiting for it to leave, then pulled a stained notebook and compass from her jacket.

The map was already in her head.

Her eyes lingered on the compass for a while, letting the nettle settle down completely…

It stopped.

She snapped the compass shut and took the notebook. A retractable sharpie attached to the binding.

Click.

Coordinates on a page.

Click.

She glanced at the ruins one last time, before returning the notebook to her pocket.

And just like that, with the stroke of a sharpie, the mission was a success.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Olivia flicked the key, turned the handlebars, and drove away with a buzz.

A cicada in the night.

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“Are you sure, Liv?” Her colleague said, holding the edge of the notebook. “If these coordinates are even slightly off the upper brass is going to kill me.”

Paris wore a ragged aviator cap. A few rusty medals on his chest.

There were more of them this time.

“I might have swapped latitude for longitude by mistake,” she said with a smirk.

“Don’t play with me, Liv.” He put the notebook in his pocket. “Rockets are bloody hard to come around.”

She shrugged.

“I’m just a scout. What can I do?”

Paris turned and walked away, but he didn’t stop complaining.

“Everything’s hard to come around. If only we had more bullets for those freaks…”

Olivia chuckled, stretching wide. But as the grumpy pilot disappeared into the crowd, she realized she had come home earlier than expected. Her next assignment was only in a few days.

Now what?

She looked around. The HQ’s cafeteria was lively in the early morning, buzzing with a cacophony of footsteps and low chatter. Soldiers with makeshift rifles, nurses in patched up uniforms, clerks…

Coffee. That’s what she needed.

There was a machine beside the entrance.

She crossed the room and placed a mug under the dispenser.

Childlike voices reached her as the coffee poured. There was a school nearby.

Olivia took the steamy mug and blew it, before taking a sip.

“How can machine coffee taste like socks?” she muttered.

Who knew? Everything was hard to come around.

The voices grew louder, then a group of chatty kids stormed through the open gates beside her. She happened to know the loudest of them, the bee right at the head of the swarm.

Olivia arched a stern eyebrow at him.

Marcus froze as he saw her, the rest of the kids continuing without him.

“I can explain,” he said.

She lowered the cup.

“What are you even doing here? Where’s your teacher?”

“The class is doing a tour through the military installations. We just went ahead of him, that’s all.”

Olivia breathed easily again.

“I see. Not as bad as I imagined.”

“Told you. Save for the fact we locked Mr. Brown in the classroom.”

“What?!”

He raised his hands. Something bulged slightly through his shirt. A necklace of sorts.

“Joking!”

She stared at him, speechless, then sighed.

“How was your party yesterday? Sorry I missed it. Happy birthday, by the way.”

He scratched his head, a worried look on his face.

“Yeah, I know you’re busy, Oli. I… I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She smiled and messed up his hair slightly.

“Of course I’m okay. Do you think any mutant is match for mankind’s greatest scout?”

“Yeah, right.” Marcus snorted at her jest, but his eyes weren’t as amused. “Is it true that the mutants act like us sometimes? I mean… Doesn’t that mean they are smarter than we give them credit for?”

Olivia blinked.

“Our enemies are cunning mimics, that’s for sure. They imitate human behavior to trick us. But I already know that, so don’t worry about me.”

Marcus looked at her in silence for a while, then nodded.

“Alright.”

It didn’t seem he believed her entirely.

“Anyways, show me what you got for your thirteenth birthday,” she said.

“Sure. But I got just one thing with me right now.”

Marcus reached under his shirt through the collar and pulled something into view.

A metallic necklace, oval-shaped with wings, fully painted.

The pitch-black coffee swayed in the cup beneath.

Olivia looked down, staring at it in silence.

“I should make my own coffee,” she said. “This one tastes like socks, did you know that?”

Marcus frowned, pulling the thing back inside his shirt.

“No, I didn’t—”

Shouts coming from outside.

A breathless, disheveled man burst through the entrance. His shirt was frayed on the shoulder, as if he was forced to slam it against a door multiple times…

Marcus’ eyes show wide.

“I gotta go,” he said and bolted after his class already in the distance.

Mr. Brown ran after the pranksters, cursing them until their fourth generation.

Paris returned. He stopped beside her, watching the chaos unfold in the cafeteria with her, notebook in hand.

“I don’t know what to do with this kid,” she said. “His father was a good soldier, but I’m not sure I’m the right person for the job. I mean, I’m barely at home with all the missions.”

“Don’t overthink it,” Paris said. “At least he has someone to look after him. I didn't have anybody.”

She sighed.

“You’re right.”

“Anyways.” He turned to face her. “We got them.”

“Got who?”

“Who? The mutants, of course!”

“Already?”

“Yep. Already.” Paris handed her the notebook back. “The entire hideout was blown to pieces. Not a single rocket wasted.”

Her eyebrows arched.

Olivia took the notebook with her free hand.

“That’s… great news. Do you think we’ll be able to push that front further now?”

Paris raised his palms, laughing.

“Whoa, slow down there, partner. It’s not that simple. But…” he said, sticking his hands inside his pockets. “It’s going to cost us a lot less now. Thanks, Liv.”

She nodded with a smile.

He turned, walking the same way he came. Complaining.

“I wish I had done it myself, thought…”

Olivia sat down on the table behind her, yawning despite herself.

The image of a poorly carved wooden necklace flashed against her mind’s eye.

It disappeared when she rubbed her eyes. Tired.

I… need a nap, not coffee.

She abandoned the mug, some cold coffee still swirling at the bottom, and left.

By the stroke of a sharpie…

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Thanks for reading Chapter I: Permanence

That wooden carving looked awfully familiar... What do you think it means? Drop your theories below!

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