And That's When I Stopped Believing in Gravity
When you leave the world you've always known for something completely different, something dangerous and wild and adventurous, you don't take your old image with you.
That's what Mai believed. Standing in front of the full length mirror, hands falling from her head, she let the hairspray enhanced locks settle on her shoulders. She looked into her clear eyes, her very uncertain and uncomfortable expression, and smacked her cheeks roughly with both palms. "Toughen up, girl. Don't look vulnerable. Don't you dare let anyone think you're weak." The eyes in her reflection hardened a little. But then her gaze fell down to the nearly nonexistent top she was wearing, and she found herself frowning. Mai turned around, giving herself a once-over. "Do I look easy?" She wondered, fingers tapping her chin in thought. Another spin in front of the mirror. "No. Self-confident. Sexy. I can do this."
Independence. The mere word sent a smile to her lips. It would be difficult, starting out, but Mai was determined, and determination could get you far in life. Determination and spirit.
She turned around again, grabbing the newly purchased suitcase on the bed, and for a moment she nearly stumbled —damn, her heels really were high— but then she regained her balance and made for the door.
New life.
"I want to make it big in the world," she declared to herself, as the door slammed shut behind her.
And so that thought carried her through most hardships, in the coming days.
Mai was quickly picked up by a cruise line to work in the casino, and while in the beginning she found this fascinating, steadily her interest in dealing cards declined until she considered leaving. She was no gamer, she decided; gamers were childish losers who threw themselves into the only thing they were likely good at in their sad sorry lives. She wanted to move on from the casino, from the easy players and easier card games. So utterly convinced was she of the inability of card games to hold her interest, that she took it as a personal insult when she had to listen to so many gamers gush on about the latest most popular game on the market. Duel Monsters, it was called, and it was as boring as the men she beat regularly in the casino.
But in her line of work, she was so surrounded by this game that she could not help but pick up the rules. Mai reluctantly began playing, if only to break up the monotony of poker and black jack.
Duel Monsters was, Mai often fondly thought, the game that turned her into a gamer. It was a game like no other: players developed almost a relationship with their decks; defended them against insult and prided themselves on their content. If you played the game, then you were a different sort of gamer, above the rest. Duelist, you were called, and Mai liked the sound of it. It sounded warrior-like. The sort of thing you'd call an opponent armed with a sword and not a deck of cards.
And so she collected fighters in her deck, to continue to foster that belief of strength in the games she played. Her most treasured were the Harpie Lady cards. They were women, with brilliantly coloured wings, fierce expressions and sharp talons. They were the core of her deck, the glue that held her strategies together. And they never failed her. Admittedly just pieces of paper, in the end, amidst a stack of more paper, but when Mai looked around her and found only the gazes of men who thought she was beneath them upon her, those painted cards meant more to her than anything else.
As the days went on in her new life, Mai grew more closed in, shaking off friendly hellos for glances or exasperated eye rolls. She started to build herself up to her decided upon standards, the Harpies; a group of very few in her deck. Solitary creatures, for the most part, relying on nothing but themselves, their own wits and weapons at hand. She obtained barbed whips and mirrored shields to protect them, gave herself a glittering compact and an upgraded vocabulary. Smooth words drew card players in, her good looks kept them interested. But it was Mai's complete control of the games she played that had them losing, every time. Each parting word was like a lashing, as she left the dueling table. "Better luck next time, honey."
Luck, she always said, because she was convinced there was no other way for them to defeat her.
As her standards for good strategies and games grew higher, Mai found herself at a point where she could finally recognize the consequence of her seclusion from everyone else. The first thread in a coat of loneliness began to wrap around her, the thread that threatened: no one will try to break through your cool exterior. No one is interested in knowing who you are. They just want a game. Fast cash. A quick win. Or your body.
The more she saw this, the more she built up walls for herself. Mai obtained a dragon for her favourite cards, and was satisfied, she thought, with the results of her improved deck. The better a player she became, the more she thought of the uselessness of having people around her, to talk to, to know better. They were all weak, after all, just lousy people who gambled and couldn't see past hairspray and perfume to know the true gamer she really was. The warrior Mai, out to make it big in the world, convinced of her need to be alone.
And so she relied on the thought that had started her off in her new life, the thought that grew into a festering hunger. She wanted to do something great with her life. Be someone. Someone important. Someone who had it all.
Living out the fantasy life was easier in the city, when the ship she worked on was in port. Mai spent the cash she made on frivolous things, looking every bit the part of a woman who made too much money and didn't know what to do with it. But when she was back in her cabin, looking over everything she had recently bought, there was nothing but frustration. None of it was good enough. She needed more. Something. Something...
Mai bought herself more cards, to console herself that she had no one to share her possessions with. And she was satisfied, for a while.
A row of watches sat under the display case. Mai let her elbows rest on the glass as she eyed the different faces and designers. She didn't know why she wanted a watch. It wasn't particularly important. Still, it would be nice, she thought, to have a constant reminder of being able to get what she desired, without too much concern. Or maybe it was a reminder of her life, ticking away, still stuck in a dead-end job playing games with people not worth her time.
She ended up buying a watch anyway.
Returning to the dock wasn't something she was looking forward to, so her steps were slow and her direction slightly off. The town was small, which was unfortunate, as she hadn't had a lot of opportunities to distract herself from the mundane as of late. She hoped the next port would be more exciting.
The gangway wasn't crowded, as it was still late afternoon and so many of the ship's passengers were still out cruising around. Where, Mai didn't know, since as far as she could tell the only thing to really look at was the little family run antique stores and second hand book shops. But apparently the place had a quaint charm to it, according to the tourists who enjoyed taking photos of themselves beside signs and storefronts.
She was stopped at the check-in by her supervisor, who had been talking to a group of men she couldn't remember seeing around the ship, when he waved his hand at her distractedly. "You have a parcel waiting for you in your room."
"What?" Her mind was completely befuddled by this. Surely there was no one who would send her anything. She didn't know anyone.
"If you'll excuse me I have business to attend to," he said irritably after she had stood there for a few moments. Glancing at the impatient men he was standing with, she turned on her heel and quickly entered the ship.
It was always pleasant, walking down the halls while not wearing an employee uniform. No one turned to ask her where the bathrooms were, no one stopped her and complained about something she wasn't in charge of and had no control over. Mai made right for her room with no interruptions, and stared at the square brown box sitting on her bed, with a white stamp marked with a company logo.
"Industrial Illusions," she murmured so quietly she almost couldn't hear herself.
Off came the brown paper. Her heart was thumping. Her hands shook slightly. The box's lid was pushed aside. Mai stared at the glove contained within. At the video tape. At the cards.
Her eyes were drawn immediately to the gold coins painted onto the first card. The invitation was clear. The video tape would probably explain it all, but in her sight was all she truly needed to know. A challenge had been made. She had been chosen. And there was money to be won. Mai hugged the gold painted card with a joy she hadn't felt in a long time. Her face lit up in a grin.
"I am going somewhere in life! I'm going to get out of this mediocre job and do something amazing. Oh —my job. I'll need to give notice. Or should I just walk away now? Wait. Where am I heading, anyway?" She rushed out, breathlessly.
Her fingers found the tape, fumbling a little, pushing it into the slot on the television, pressing buttons, hitting the volume up.
There was no question, in her mind, of actually losing. There was no question at all that the money might not exist at all. Mai was absolutely convinced. Industrial Illusions, rang the voice in her head, gleefully. Her Harpies would get her through this challenge. Undoubtedly.
Once she had the information she needed, she set off at a fast pace back down the hallway, going through her deck as she went. A sudden fire had been lit inside, a fire that had probably been burning low for a while, and she'd simply not known it. Cards had to be pushed aside. Strategies reworked. Things refined. She had to—
"Miss Valentine?" Said a voice, warningly. Mai looked up with a jolt, and realized she had been about to run into someone. A waiter, it looked like, with a long cart. She briefly wondered what he was doing so far from the kitchen.
Her head acknowledged him with a nod, and she brushed aside without an apology. She couldn't afford to get sidetracked with thinking about anything else but her cards. It was imperative.
Mai found her manager's office, a small little thing through which people entered and left repeatedly through the day, for one thing or another. She thought nothing of it when she saw the door was closed, and turned the knob with a short, "Excuse..."
The men from earlier, Mai noted, the ones she hadn't recognized talking to her supervisor, were hunched over the desk in the middle of the room, with her manager on the other side. There were little bags of something on the desk.
"A drug deal?" She said with a start, in disbelief. The situation was so absolutely ludicrous in her mind that she couldn't even begin to imagine a logical solution to what she'd just put herself in the middle of. Instead she stood there, cards gripped in one hand, doorknob in the other, as all of their eyes turned on her. "You can't be seriously...smuggling drugs on board the ship, going up and down the coast trading..." her mouth stopped working at this point, as the intelligent part of her brain pointed out sharply, that that could indeed be the situation after all.
Mai started to inch her way backward, ever so slowly, and for a few seconds it actually seemed to work, because she was stared at dumbly until someone said, "What are you waiting for...grab her!"
She couldn't turn around quick enough. It was like something out of a bad movie. She didn't even have two hands to fight with —the other was clutching her deck so tightly she feared she might have bent the cards a little. Two pairs of strong hands gripped her arms, dragging her down the hallway. Mai kicked and struggled. "You can't think you can possibly get away with this! Hey!"
Employees turned to look at the scene, but most, Mai realized with a start, were people she didn't recognize, and it made her wonder if they'd all been given time off at the same time somehow. The small hallway was not given access to tourists, and so all Mai could do was hope her shouting carried far enough that someone who wasn't on their side would think to help. But everyone dutifully turned away as she was pulled down the hall. There was a door at the end, and it was yanked open by her manager with a cool expression. Outside air rushed in. Mai felt some dull horror creeping up her throat.
Salty air. A metal railing, high enough to reach her chest had she been standing tall. Mai dug her heels in, but the two still had enough strength to lift her off her feet. "Stop!" She shouted.
"It was a terrible accident. That's what they'll say." She was told, with finality.
There was a jerk as she left the arms of her captors.
Air whistled past her ears.
There was nothing but the concrete of the dock below. Metal rungs for ropes. Metal bins and small vehicles. Mai's head was pounding. "No no no—" Not for something so stupid. Not for something like this. She was going far! She had plans, and things she wanted to do and be and buy. And almost as infuriating, she hadn't even had a decent opponent for her...Harpies...
Her fingers pressed hard into the stiff cards in her palm. Something soft brushed past her wrist. Then something rough, grainy, scaly almost, found a place to grip at her shoulder.
Talons dug into her soft skin, and there was a brief feeling of pain.
Mai was weightless.
She looked at her feet, her dangling feet, and then above, and saw nothing at the railing; no one by the door. But there, above her head, was a fierce expression and the sound of a screech.
"Kweeaaaccchh,"
"You..."
Mai hit the ground with a dull thump, feeling the blood sliding down her arm. There were brilliantly coloured feathers littering the concrete. And an incredible screech in her ears. Strong. Determined.
There was nothing above but blue sky, and a shut door. They hadn't even checked to see if she was dead. Heart still beating wildly, and panic finding a home in her chest and throat, Mai cursed them in her head. Then she gathered up the feathers with shaking fingers, staring, before finally tying them amidst her blonde strands. She grit her teeth against the pain in her arm. "I either hit it when I fell," Mai muttered, "or I didn't."
Her deck was still in her hands.
Her things were still in her room. The glove. The card with the gold coins. Things she needed. And things she didn't. But all hers, nonetheless, and she wanted them back.
"I won't believe in anyone anymore," she swore aloud, "all I need are my Harpies."
Mai stalked down towards the gangway again, heading for the ship's entrance. She held her head high and glared at anyone she came across, relieved to see them backing off. She approached with dread.
Either the employees hadn't been told she was supposed to be dead, or they knew nothing at all, because she was let through with stammering and heartfelt sounding concern about her arm. She continued her pace and her glaring, because it was working, and because she could barely think amongst the strong need to get in and get out. Hours she'd put in with her rough attitude worked for her now, and she was avoided by the few in the halls who recognized her.
Her things were safe in her room, and she packed them all up hurriedly. Every meaningless trinket, every article of clothing. Her precious tickets to the big time in the box. It bothered her then, as she stood there in her room loaded down with stuff, that she now had to walk all the way back out, all the while relying on the fact that nobody was going to try and kill her again.
In the mirror, a bloodied and trapped looking Mai shivered and tried to be strong, like a warrior. She stared until her blurry vision saw only the blue, purple, and green feathers, and she gasped aloud as she realized her room's proximity to the deck. It was on the opposite end, and hopefully she wouldn't be seen —what on Earth was she thinking?
Feathers. Bright feathers, in her hair.
Mai patted them down, feeling the softness, and felt the rest of her courage go into them. Laden with baggage, she walked with slow steps over to the deck. For this trek, she received many more looks, and a few questioning hellos, but Mai brushed them off as she had always done, face hard. Trust no one. Nothing. Except...
Salty air filled her lungs once more. Mai dropped her bags, one by one, off the edge, and winced as they hit concrete. All too soon, she only had her cards and the Industrial Illusions box left in her hands, things she refused to drop carelessly.
The top cards of her deck were her favoured cards, and Mai kissed the painted faces as she gripped the deck and the box with white knuckled hands. "Don't fail me now..."
There was a warmth in her palm, as if to say: we never do.
Mai jumped.
(end)