The High Ranks call it a safety measure; "extra precautions taken to ensure the secrecy of the Agency and happiness of the Terrestrials"; an additional step taken to keep radicals subdued and the world blissfully ignorant. On paper, it sounds like plausible, influential methods are being implemented to prevent shitheads from exposing the Departments of Agency. In actuality, this just means binding Michelle with manacles and porting her up north.
As she's prepped for her hearing before the Council, she's consistently reminded that her punishment could be much worse. Several guards surround her, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as they document Michelle's every movement. She's been deemed "irrational, borderline terroristic, an overt threat to both the Terrestrial and Cosmic populations"; even the slightest sniffle causes the guards to draw their spears and shout.
It's not the best start to a morning.
"Physically, there's nothing wrong with you", Kline, the doctor examining her, says; she pulls the plastic gloves off her hands and tosses them into the trash bin beside them. "Psychologically now...I suppose that's for the Council to decide."
Michelle smirks, kicking her feet backwards and forward beneath her; the guards growl and clang their spears against the ground in synchrony. She kicks faster. "I am so getting demoted, aren't I?"
Kline chuckles. "My dear, let's just say the odds aren't exactly in your favor." Leaning forward, she lifts her hands and pauses, her fingers just inches away from the field of green energy surrounding Michelle's hair. "May I?"
Michelle nods. "You're good."
Kline hums and places her hands on either side of Michelle's head; the ball of energy peels away, layer by layer, like an onion that's been the unfortunate subject of a mad scientist. When she meets the center, the energy evaporates and reveals a headful of sleepy, black mambas. Kline's eyes dart to Michelle's then back up to the snakes; they don't hiss, they don't lurch forward, and they don't bite. They just stare.
"You were expecting something else", Michelle muses, lips quirking upward as Kline continues observing them.
"Yes", she replies. "I've seen their reaction whilst you were being apprehended." She extends a finger and watches as the snake meets her halfway to press its scaly body against the finger. "I didn't expect them to be so calm."
"Well, they're pretty laidback for the most part; they're only fitful when they sense danger or a maleficent presence."
"Hm." Kline steps closer and, upon Michelle's further approval, holds out a hand. One of the mambas extends and presses its head against the palm of her hand; its coal black eyes stare into hers, and a light humming emits from its body. "And what happened in Jersey? That was just them being 'fitful'?"
"That's not fair", Michelle protests with a deep-suited scowl; the mamba retracts and curls around her neck, quietly hissing as its siblings begin to stir. "For one thing, I've been registered in the system for years now, so they already knew what they were getting into. And even if they didn't, I gave 'em a warning, and they didn't listen."
"I know." Kline lets her hand fall to her side and considers Michelle with a placid eye. "And whether or not they survive, please know that it will be a result of their own actions. Regardless of what lead them to those actions."
One of the guards looks up from his spear and glares at the two of them. "Dr. Kline", he begins. "You aren't insinuating that that massacre wasn't her fault, are you?"
"No, I'm directly stating it actually", Kline says without turning to face them; the snake returns from behind Michelle and rubs its head against her Kline's shoulder before disappearing once more. "Those men knew the risks, and we have both audio and video evidence that Ms. Jones did give them a warning."
The man's face flushes red; he draws nearer, only to pause when Michelle's snakes jerk to attention and hiss. Hands clenched at his side, he clears his throat and turns back to Kline.
"Forgive me if I'm speaking out of term, but those men wouldn't have even been there if this thing hadn't have gone fifty shades of radical in the first place."
"Be that as it may, they willingly disobeyed protocol and a fair warning. I understand your distress, but you must understand, the fact that they linger between life and death is entirely their own fault."
Michelle peeks over Kline's shoulder and smiles, waving her fingers at the man. He grumbles, turning his back to her and retreats to his post. Kline rolls her eyes, rubs her hands together, and leans over so that she and Michelle are at eye-level.
"It's time for your hearing", she says with a sad smile. "Are you ready?"
Michelle shrugs, though her hands are firmly clasped in her lap, sweaty and fidgeting. Her snakes, now cognizant of the situation and Michelle's state of mind, coo and curl around her head in a tight-knit show of support. Michelle wraps her arms around her waist and stares up at Kline. "They're gonna shove my head on a stick, aren't they?"
"Of course not. We're long since past those days."
She glances up at her snakes, then to the skin-biting cuffs, then to the guards. Kicking her legs back once, twice, she nods, clears her throat, and gives Kline a shaky smile. "I know." She hops to her feet, ignoring the brief spasm from the guard that ensues, and jerks her head to the door. "Shall we?"
. . .
The courtroom is practically empty by the time Kline, Michelle, and Javier, her advisor, arrive; given the two defendants of the trial, it's a wonder that the entire Agency isn't attending. As Michelle takes her stand behind the bars of an iron cage, she rationalizes that T'Challa more than likely is the cause of that. But Shuri's sitting on the farther side of the room, so she's no means to confirm the theory.
Nonetheless, Shuri seems to feel her gaze because she turns around and smiles at her; Michelle, jittery and cold from the close proximity of the metal bars, waves back; then waves her middle finger at her. Shuri laughs, flips her own finger, and turns around when Cebisa begins talking to her once more. Shuri places her hands on her desk and takes a sheet of paper into them. Her hands, Michelle can't help but notice, aren't binded.
And she's willing to bet that her feet aren't either.
"It's okay, girls", Michelle whispers, petting the agitated mambas into submission. "It's okay."
Javier looks up from the clipboard in his hands and raises an eyebrow. "How you holding up?"
Michelle grips the bars of her cage with both hands and gives them a gentle rattle. "Peachy", she mutters with a huff.
"Cool it", he says as he pretends to write something on a sheet of paper. "All eyes are on you today. They're waiting for you to do something that'll give them an excuse to lock you up."
"Like they really need an excuse."
"Michelle-"
"I'm fine", she hisses. Her tongue prods through her mouth, and her teeth have turned into fangs; she covers her mouth with a hand and closes her eyes, willing the teeth and tongue to resume their humane appearance. Javier closes in on her side, careful not to catch the ire of her hair.
"You just have to keep your calm for the next half hour", he assures her. "Everything's on the table, they've reviewed all the facts; by this point, the court's probably made their decision. They're dragging this on for the public."
"I just wish this would be over with", Michelle murmurs, opening her eyes to stare at her at the floor of her cage.
With that, Odin bangs his gavel against his sound block, and the trial begins. Javier squeezes one of the bars of her cage, then walks to his seat.
True to his word, and his precognition, what follows is more or less a summarization of the past several hearings; Michelle and Shuri's advisors are acting as severely inexperienced lawyers, and Odin acts as a severely inexperienced judge; the Agency's attempting to mimic the Terrestrial court systems, but the trial's nothing more than a poorly concealed witch hunt.
The plan was to create a global projection of everyone's greatest fears; as Agents of the Halloween Department, they possessed an accurate list of the world's most prevalent fears; as two of the smartest, most innovative individuals in the Agency, they possessed the means to utilize this list to a greater purpose. Because, as the High Ranks often stated, Halloween was a dying Department, and it was the responsibility of the youth to save it from obscurity.
And so, in a desperate attempt to preserve their culture, the two sought to bring their Horror Projection Project into the realm of reality; only, midway through their first experiment, someone took notice of the surge in mana, found them girls, and destroyed the Projector.
They've been awaiting a verdict ever since.
"A project of this magnitude and of this power in the hands of two teenage girls, one of whom is a Gorgon, could result in global psychological devastation", Odin is saying. His eye is cold and bitter, staring at Michelle with enough hatred to rile her snakes up; covering her mouth with her hand, she hisses at them reassuringly, then turns back to Odin. He stares down at her with contempt, then leans forward. "On any other occasion, I'd have you demoted, drained of your mana, and imprisoned for all eternity. But." He sits back in his seat. "As luck would have it, you have the support of Shuri, the girl you beguiled into this little scheme of yours. Her influence, as well as her family's, may just save you from spending a few eons behind bars."
At this, Shuri rolls her eyes; Cabisa scowls and elbows her, nodding to Odin. Lips pursed, Shuri turns to face him, hands folded neatly in front of her.
"I've arranged a deal with T'Chaka and T'Challa, king and prince of Wakanda, father and brother of Shuri; you know them, don't you", Odin asks, glaring down at her.
Michelle presses her head between the bars of her cage and says, "Yes."
"Good. Afterwards, you should send them your thanks."
"I will. Sir."
"Seeing as this was apparently an attempt to improve the state of your Holiday", he continues as he glances down at a sheet of paper. "We've come to the agreement that your intent was not to harm and that, therefore, your punishment should be more lenient."
A uproar of dissent rises from the few dozen Agents in the pews. Shuri sighs, drops her head into her hands, and glances over at Michelle. Michelle smiles and offers her a thumbs up, ignoring the hissing of both her snakes and her audience. Odin remains in his seat, scowling at the the outraged souls, before slamming his gavel down and shouting, "Silence!" Everyone winces and falls back into their seats; Michelle can feel the hate-ridden stares burning into her temple. Aside from the thick undertone of emnity, the court is calm.
Once he's certain that peace has been restored, Odin turns to Michelle and Shuri. "Since your goal was to save your Department, the both of you shall be relocated to New York City; you'll both be given jobs in Halloween department stores until the end of the season. When October comes to an end, you'll report back to this court and give a detailed description of the true meaning of Halloween and how your experience with Terrestrials has contributed to that realization. Meeting adjourned." With that, Odin slams his gavel once more and disappears, leaving behind a swirl of snowflakes and frost.
The court erupts into rage once more, glaring and shouting obscenities at Michelle. Ramonda and Okoye escort Shuri away, each tossing Michelle sympathetic expressions. T'Challa diverts from the group and rushes towards Michelle, struggling to push through the crowd. Javier, likewise, has puffed up his chest and stepped between the cage and the furious Cosmic beings rushing towards them.
All at once, Michelle can't help but be grateful for the cage.
. . .
"I've never been to New York."
Michelle glances up from the composition notebook in her lap; Shuri's laid out against the Californian King sized bed of the suite. She's tossing a plastic-wrapped baseball into the air, letting it come just centimeters away from her face before catching it once more. Taking a moment to fiddle with the screws extending from her neck, Shuri turns to face her, a small smile etching across her face. "I've been to L.A., Chicago, Atlanta, Philadelphia, and New Orleans", she says as she rolls the baseball away from her. "But I've never been to New York."
"Me neither", Michelle admits, closing her notebook.
"Really?" She sits up, crosses her legs, and stares, eyes wide with an unrestrained zeal. "I always thought you had." She snickers mischievously and rolls off the bed, pressing up against Michelle's side. "I heard they've got something of a rat problem", Shuri notes, waving her hands in a frivolous dance as Michelle's curls transform into her mambas; they mimic the dance, squealing as they glide their scaley bodies over her ears and underneath her chin .
Michelle rolls her eyes, shoves Shuri, and heatlessly snaps her teeth at her snakes. They cackle, then retreat, curling around the top of her head in a grotesque bun. "Yeah, they're kind of why I haven't gone yet", she admits with half a shrug. "They're hard enough to control as it is; I wouldn't wanna tempt them. Besides." Michelle sighs, laying against the fuzzy blue carpeting beneath them. "It's a pretty big city. Way more people to hide from. You know?"
Shuri rolls onto her stomach and stares at Michelle, her soft, brown eyes seeking understanding. When at last it dawns upon her, she scoots closer and wraps an arm around her shoulder. Michelle hums and rests her head against Shuri's shoulder, her eyes falling shut.
"You won't have to hide from me", Shuri says; she gives Michelle's forearm a firm squeeze and places her other hand over hers.
"I know." She smiles and stares down at their hands. "I guess that's one good thing to come out of this."
"Oh, come on." Rolling onto her back, she grunts and crawls onto Michelle, stretching her limbs out like a lethargic cat. Once this produces a poorly hidden smile from Michelle, Shuri giggles and digs her shoulders into Michelle's spine. "Michelle", she trills. "Mishelly? Miss Mouse Lady? Come on, why so negative?"
"Shuri, we just narrowly escaped the most controversial trial in Agency history; excuse me if I'm not enthralled at the moment." She sits up, hooks her arms around Shuri's, and eases to her feet. They press their backs against one another and, together, begin to navigate the room. Given the shoes and suitcases littering the floor, it's not exactly an task, but it's fun nonetheless.
Eventually, they crash beside the wardrobe in the far corner of the room, laying side by side. One of Michelle's mambas is flicking its tongues against Shuri's ears, and there's a current of electricity passing from Shuri to Michelle. After so many years of being isolated from others, it's nice to have developed such a close relationship with someone.
"I'm glad things worked out", Shuri says, petting one of Michelle's snakes.
When Michelle turns to look at her, she finds Shuri staring at the ceiling, her eyes carrying as much intensity as they'd had with the baseball. "What, with the trial?"
"Yeah. I mean, and I promise I'm not saying this to gloat or anything, but-"
"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you and your family", Michelle finishes with a thin smile. "It's fine." Shuri bites her lip, and the electricity coursing through her takes on a sharp, nasty bite. Had Michelle been anyone else, this might have driven her away. But she's had enough shocks, from Shuri and others, to have developed an immunity. "Listen, everybody knows it. You don't have to even look at that fiasco after the verdict to know that. We all know what's up; there's no harm in putting it in the air."
"I know but." Shuri growls, clenches her fists, and turns to Michelle. Her eyes bore into Michelle's, narrowed and embittered from frustration and a prevailing sense of helplessness. "This whole thing fucking sucks", she says on a shaky exhale.
"Well." Michelle fumbles, then squeaks out, "At least we got this neat suite. Could be worse."
"We're only here for the day. After today, we'll be lucky if we get placed in a crackhouse just off the river."
"Now who's being a negative Nancy?"
Shuri scoffs, scoops one of her blouses off the floor, and tosses it at her. Giggling, Michelle rolls over, crawls to her feet, and saunters over to the bay window along the northern wall. She takes a seat along the red cushions and pulls her feet to her chest, staring out at the miles and miles of rush hour traffic beneath them.
Behind her, Shuri sits up, her legs tucked underneath her; her smile fades away, and the light within her eyes dims ever so slightly. "Mouse?"
"Yeah?"
"You're gonna be okay. I promise."
Michelle glances at her out of the corner of her eyes; then she turns back to the window and shakes her head, her snakes mewling with the movement. "The Projector", she murmurs. "It was supposed to make up for everything else; it was supposed to make everything better." She hears footsteps on the carpeted floor and, moments later, feels a soft hand rubbing against her back.
"It was a good idea", Shuri reassures her as they take in the sight of the city; it's so full of life and movement and noise. It's too much and yet, at the same time, so restrictive. It's a big city, a city where dreams come true and memories are made. For Michelle, it's just another place she wants to escape from. Because there are so many possibilities, and they're all beyond her reach. "It was just a little too intense, I'm afraid", Shuri says, squeezing her shoulder. "But it's not over yet."
"Oh, honey, I think it is."
"No. We have this job. And the Departments. They're giving us another chance." She takes hold of Michelle's arms and smiles. "They're trusting us."
"Trust?"
"Well, there may have been some persuasion, but the fact remains: they haven't gotten rid of us. And as long as we're here, we can still make a difference. Right?"
Michelle purrs and drops her head onto Shuri's shoulder; sparing her one last glance, she turns back to the city and closes her eyes. "Right."
"Exactly." Shuri wraps an arm around her waist; something warm blossoms in Michelle's stomach, but she pushes it down, content with living in the moment before it passes.
It's a nice night to begin a new life.
. . .
Morning comes, and Michelle and Shuri are less-than-gracefully kicked out of the suite. They crouch to save their luggage from the oblivious pedestrians around them, but by the time they've retrieved everything, it's mostly soggy in rainwater.
"It could be worse", Shuri says, though her eyes don't nearly convey the message.
"There's still sixteen hours left in the day."
"True." She tosses her backpack over her shoulder, grabs the handles of her two suitcases, and cranes her neck until she spots the nearest streetlight. "Green still means 'go', right?"
Michelle shrugs on her own backpack, smirks, and starts forward. "Guess we'll have to find out, huh?"
"I hope that isn't your attitude towards everything in life."
"What, like it isn't yours?"
Shuri chuckles, bumps one of her suitcases into the back of Michelle's leg, and steps around a traffic cone; there's a small hole in the ground here, with pipes and gushing water showing from below. Shuri stares, lips curled into a grin, before Michelle bumps into her to regain her attention.
"Come on", she says as they cross the street. "You don't wanna get stuck in this crowd; once it gets big enough, it's easy to get confused if you're not paying attention."
Shuri rolls her eyes but continues along, always staying within arm's reach of her friend. "Wakanda does have cities, Michelle. They may not be very big, but we do have them."
"I know.", Michelle replies as they pass over a bridge; beneath the bridge, a small, crumbling platform extends into the East River; several people walk along the pathway, one of which includes a mime artist standing on top of a plastic crate. Upon spotting Michelle watching her, she beams, stands on her tiptoes, and waves enthusiastically. Michelle, in turn, gives her a timid smile and waves back before turning to Shuri, who's leaning over the railing and staring at the 59th Street Bridge stretching across the river. Her eyes are wide with passion, and she's thrumming with spirit.
Michelle leans over the railing and stares at a ferry gliding over the water; her lips peak upwards, and her snakes stir underneath the wool scarf containing them. She reaches up, gives them a brief pat, then resumes her sightseeing.
"I've been to the States before", Shuri eventually says, smiling down at the pigeon that's chosen to rest beside her. She cocks her head at it, making chirping noises, and giggles when the birds chirps back before taking flight once more. She then turns to Michelle and gives her a small smile, in tune to the anxiety she's projecting. "Besides, I've taken several forms of martial arts, and I once engineered a Terrie repellent in the case of an attack. I'll be fine." She looks over the river once more, then turns and continues up the bridge.
Michelle keeps her eyes on the pavement, pushing down the faint discomfort she feels as the pathway below fades to water; she wraps her trembling fingers around the straps of her backpack and draws as close to Shuri as she deems acceptable. "I know. I just want you to be careful."
"And I will. Okay? Trust me, you don't have anything to worry about."
After they've traveled down the bridge, they wave down a taxi cab and direct the driver to the address they'd been supplied by their advisors. Shuri spends most of the ride dangling out the window, taking pictures of the neighborhood and people; afterwards, she crawls back into the cab and presses close to Michelle, scrolling through her photo album as she discusses each picture with radiant animation.
"You know, I was pretty nervous about this at first", she says as her finger hovers over a picture of a crowd gathering around a silver man. "I've never been away from home for long, and I most certainly have never been on my own before. But look at this." She tilts the screen Michelle's way and beams. "The people, the-", she lowers her voice. "The Terries. They're all so particular, so distinguished. Not like any of those daffies in the Agency."
"You're not actually saying New York is better than Wakanda, are you?"
"Of course not. Not to shit on New York or anything. But you know how the Agency is; they want a minimal amount of interaction with the Terrestrials, and that includes their culture."
"How exactly do they expect to enforce that if you're literally royalty?"
"See? Now how come when T'Challa and I say that, everyone just looks at us like we're speaking in tongues?" Shuri sighs, stretches her legs out along the seat, and drops her head into Michelle's lap. She looks up at her and smiles, reaching around to tug at her shirt. "But here? There's hardly any supervision for relocated Agents; things are gonna be different here. Everything's gonna be real, you know? No more orders, no more rules, no more long-winded meetings. Mouse, here, we can be regular people. We can have fun."
Michelle chuckles, smiling as another flash emits from her camera. "Yeah. I guess this could be kinda nice." She places a hand on Shuri's shoulder and says, "Javier says we might even get assigned Charges".
"Oh, we'd better. With the number of scares we brought in last year, we're gonna need every Agent on term to make sure we don't have a repeat of '12."
"It wasn't that bad. Okay, it was, but they've got people like us now." Michelle blinks and when she opens her eyes, they're a deep, heated red. "And we're gonna scare the shit out of everyone."
Shuri snorts and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I bet that's why they put us on desk duty", she murmurs; she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the address Cebisa had scribbled on a sheet of paper: the Heartbreak Estates. "Sounds promising."
"Sounds like a place you'd go to get your kidneys stolen from."
The cab driver comes to an abrupt halt, sending them both hurling against the side door before they crash to the floor. Shuri falls into Michelle's lap, and Michelle falls on her side; they both groan, rubbing what will develop into bruises, then turn to glare up at the driver.
She merely rolls her eyes and jerks her head to the side. "We're here", she says as she reaches for a cigarette. "That'll be $83.21. I also accept tips."
Shuri raises an eyebrow and whispers, "Is that expensive?"
Michelle shrugs, digs a wad of dollars out of her pocket, and shoves it through the hole in the glass screen. "No more than you'd expect it to be." She gives the driver a nod, then helps Shuri gather her bags. They've just stepped out of the cab when they hear the sound of screeching rubber. Michelle spares the cab a scowl before she turns to examine the building before her; in terms of the worst places she's lived in, it doesn't nearly peak the list. But the neon red sign declaring "Heartbreak Estate" is almost as humorous as it is vexing.
"How is this an estate", Shuri wonders as they approach the front door; she presses the rectangular doorbell sitting beside the mailbox; when this draws neither a chime nor a reaction from within, she sighs, curls her fingers into a fist, and bangs her hand against the door. The wood splits underneath the pressure, and, moments later, the door creaks and falls backward, kicking up a cloud of dust as it collides with the floor.
"Truly heartbreaking", Michelle mumbles. She's just about to recommend hunting down a payphone when a boy with a head of floppy, golden hair bounds down the massive staircase at the end of the hall; he takes note of the two in the doorway, pauses to place his laundry basket on the floor, and walks over to greet them.
"Hi", he says with a smile. "Are you guys from the, uh, Agency?"
Michelle and Shuri exchange a look, then turn back to him and nod.
"Right. Uh. Princess Shuri. Ms. Jones." He extends a hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Danny Rand."
They both take a moment to shake his hand. "Danny Rand", Shuri says, squinting at him. "We haven't met before, have we?"
Danny flushes, and a soft, yellow glow emnates from him. With a wave of his hand, the door rises from the floor and is placed back into its frame. Shuri's bags are then lifted from the floor and float beside her. Michelle watches, eyes warm with amusement, as Shuri taps a finger against one of the floating suitcases.
"Cool", Shuri breathes as a purse glides into her hands. "Magic or science?"
"Uh, magic, I guess. And no, we haven't met. Though you might know me as Iron Fist."
"Iron Fist?" Michelle crosses her arms and smirks. "The guy that runs around in emerald green spandex?"
"Actually, it's more of a bottle green", he retorts, twirling a finger through the air; a tendril of yellow energy materializes and taps Michelle on the nose. Before she can say anything more, Danny turns, waves the girls and the bags towards them, and starts towards the front desk. "And I also, on occasion, help my teammates save the city from peril."
Michelle rolls her eyes and leans on the desk. There's a clipboard there; in the Olden Language, someone has written, "Name, Department, and Species". Taking a moment to scribble in her information, she says, "So what's your Department?"
"Uh, Easter. I'm a newer recruit; only been in the Agency for a few months, I'm afraid. Hence the, uh, den." He clears his throat, scratches the back of his head, and glances over the pumpkin patches sewn into Shuri's bags and Michelle's pack. "And you guys are Halloweenies-"
"Please, never call us that", Shuri says with a wince.
"But everybody knows that. I mean, Princess Shuri, you're arguably the most well-known Youths in the Agency. And, uh, Ms. Jones-"
"The freakiest", Michelle supplies as her eyes flash red.
Danny takes a step back, and Shuri rolls her eyes, placing a hand behind him as she shakes her head at Michelle. "Mouse, don't be an ass. And you." She points at Danny. "'Shuri' and 'Michelle' will do just fine."
He closes his eyes and smiles, cheeks tinted red. "Of course. Uh, Shuri could you, um, sign?"
"Mm hm." She steps forward and quickly writes in her information; when she finishes, she takes a moment to look over the room. She takes note of the squishy carpeting, the chandelier that's missing quite a few lightbulbs, and the shattered windows doting the walls. "So", she says after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "This 'den'. Why exactly does it, um, you know, exist?"
"Well, my advisor says it's kind of like a rehab for new recruits and colossal fuckups. From what I've heard, you guys are of the 'fuckup' category."
"Gee, Danny, that's quite the charm you're putting on." Michelle snatches one of Shuri's bags from the air and glances around the room. "Any idea where our rooms are?"
"Uh, yeah." Danny leaps over the desk and knocks over a bronze statue of Mickey Mouse; the red-bricked wall behind him begins to tremble before parting and revealing a narrow passageway lit by dim lanterns. Michelle and Shuri follow after him, their bags following them, and press their arms against one another.
"Just curious", Michelle asks, flinching when her voice echoes back to her. "But who owns this building?"
"Some guy that's been squatting on the West Coast for eleven years, give or take. As far as he knows, his friend, one of the retirees from the Agency, has been renting this place out to homeless youth."
"Right. Does this guy ever come back?"
"Sometimes. Word is he gives surprise inspections two-three times a year. When that happens, we hide out in here cause we're not included on the lease." Danny gestures to the walls surrounding them and chuckles. "Obviously."
They round a corner and pause before an oakwood door. Danny hands them both a key and smiles. "It was nice talking to you guys. I guess."
"I like you, Danny", Shuri says, sliding her key into the lock. "You're an equal amount of nice guy and asshole. Not at all disorienting." She claps him across the back and waves. "Thanks for the tour. I guess."
"Yeah, well." He shrugs, then starts walking away. "I'd better go fill in the other tenants about this. They love hearing about newbies."
Shuri pushes the door open and sticks her head inside, mumbling a disheartened, "Fuck" as she takes in the sight of the bite-sized room.
"Is that something we should worry about", Michelle asks, eyes darting to the other doors throughout the hallway.
"No, of course not. Most of the Agents here are pretty nice. A little pompous maybe but I doubt they'll give you any trouble."
"Right. Any of 'em hassling you?"
"I get a lot of 'eggheads' and 'rabbit-fuckers' but aside from that, no, it's all peachy."
Michelle scowls.
"I promise, it's not a cult; you know, except for when it is."
Shuri grabs Michelle by the shoulders and pulls her into their room. "You really know how to put a girl at ease", she says with a head shake.
"Yeah, I get that a lot", Danny says with a light chuckle before nodding and turning away once more. "Welcome to the Heartbreak Estate", he calls back before disappearing around a corner.
Once she's certain he's gone, Michelle slams the door shut; her backpack falls from her shoulder and crashes to the ground with a soft thud.
They have one bed, a vertical wardrobe, and a body-length mirror that's missing the lower half of its glass; a window sits along the eastern wall, overlooking the fire escape and the bridge they'd crossed earlier. The ceiling fan above them is dangling by a few, precarious threads of wiring, and there's a questionable stain on the carpet.
Shuri shuffles her feet, clears her throat, and flexes her fingers along the handle of one of her suitcases. "So this is us."
Something crashes in one of the other rooms. Moments later, the lights cut off, and the girls find themselves surrounded by darkness; Michelle's hair dissolves into hissing snakes.
"This is gonna suck so bad."