CRIMINALS AND VIGILANTES
"I was out on a ride along," Araji starts.
The patrol car rolled smoothly on white-wall tires along the well-paved road of Downtown. White doors contrasted the otherwise black exterior. Two small silver tubular lights sit with a small and inactive plastic dome between them atop the car's smooth roof. The grill of the car bulges forward slights, the grate bars running horizontally with several thick metal dividers running perpendicularly across. Small and pointed silver hood ornaments are positioned above the bulging circular headlights. A thin, metal streak runs across the sides of the car, morphing into the tops of the pointed tailfins in the back. Within the cabin upon low, cream leather seats sit Araji and an older man, both in police uniforms.
Busy streets and bustling storefronts roll out in every direction. Araji sits straight in her seat despite the beckoning call of the windowsill advising her sore back to relieve its load. The police radio chatters and beeps, buzzing in between announcements and unit deployments. The driver of the car cranes his ears to make sense of the female operator's voice through the static. Nothing major comes through the line as only mentions of car break-ins and petty thefts float out from the lazy radio.
The older man sits lean and tall in the seat to Araji's left. His nose is long and sharply angular, much like his chin. The police cap's shutters hang idly, covering the receding hairline of the man. His forehead is wrinkled, yet the rest of his face is clean, and his thick, low brows sit upon dark, beady eyes focused onto the radio. The three chevrons on his cuff read out the rank of sergeant, giving him the sense his young companion that he's been stuck in mediocrity for a long time.
Wouldn't a sergeant usually have anything more important to do than babysitting?
He looks over at Araji and she glances away.
"Something the matter, Recruit Mithra?"
"No, nothing, Sergeant Gei."
The man twists his mouth into a doubtful smirk, then begins:
"Listen, I know you're probably thinking 'Why does this guy have to take newbies on field trips?', but trust me, I'd much rather be rolling around outside again looking for assignments than doing paperwork. You've heard of the infamous 'Cop's Ten', right?"
"Something about gaining weight?" Araji guesses.
"Close, but not quite. It's the weight of the stack of paperwork you have to do every day. If you don't finish it during work hours, you take it home."
"I've heard of paperwork, but is it really that bad?" Araji innocently queries.
Sergeant Gei laughs and responds:
"You sound like one of those star-struck kiddos that were inspired to join the force because of the movers. Am I right?"
Araji pushes a curled bang of hair out of the way and sucks in her lips.
"Yeah, kinda."
The man raises an eyebrow, clueing her in to follow up.
"Pretty much, yeah," she follows up.
Sergeant Gei laughs once more.
"You know what? I like you, kid. I've read your case file. Nice work on the field test, by the way. If only my group did that well."
"You had to capture packages as well?"
"No, that game's been introduced too recently- maybe a decade ago I think. While it's probably becoming the Academy's favorite choice to weed out the weak of character, I'm talking about the old school tests. Now I may not lookit- nah, I'm kidding. I'm getting old and going nowhere.
"They say the grayer the hair the greyer the uniform, right? Then I must be plum out of luck sitting here in a blue-bie although I'm a metalbender..."
Gei sees Araji's eyes slowly lose focus and trails off, then continues:
"The point is, that the tests they used to have were really tough. Like choosing between interrogating your squadmate for information they may or may not have to hide in order to pass, while getting chased by the other squads, and a team of 'detectives' catching any team that's harboring a secret-keeper."
Secret motives and treachery-baiting... Sounds exactly the same.
Araji shrugs it off internally and decides to keep quiet. There's no need to deprive this guy of his nostalgia rant.
Gei continues:
"I tell you, the kids nowadays have it so easy. The examination committee has to go to extreme lengths to make the tests extra convoluted to make sure only the good ones get in. Good thing the tests work, though, or the newbies would be even more incompetent. No offense to you, Recruit Mithra."
It dawns to Araji why the man is only a sergeant at his ripe age. He just contradicted himself! Twice!
"Sergeant, uh-" Araji speaks up.
"Call me Gei," the man corrects.
"Gei. I don't know if that makes any-"
The radio sings out a deafeningly loud broadcast, cutting off Araji's attempt to call the sergeant out:
"All units, report to 135th west and 5th avenue. There is a 10-90 in progress and the suspect is highly dangerous. I repeat, Code green with a bad attitude. All units report to-"
Sergeant Gei grabs the small receiver from the radio set and responds, clicking a button in the side.
"This is unit seven-thirty-three, responding to the 10-90. We will be there shortly."
Gei clicks the little receiver back into place and then flicks a small switch on the dashboard. Blue and red lights begin to flicker above the vehicle cabin, and the long, oscillating whine of the siren sings out.
"Wait, what are yo-?"
"You ready, Mithra? Know what the codes mean?"
"A bank alarm and a highly-skilled earthbender perp, but-."
"Stay sharp, recruit. You ready for some actual work?"
"I don't think you're allowed to respond to a radio call if you're not on patrol."
"Forget the book, Mithra. If you want to be a cop in this city you have to get used to crazy calls."
The sergeant floors the gas pedal of the car and it speeds off. Civilian vehicles pull over and make way as the more glamorous Downtown transitions into the less-so east side of the southwest-jutting peninsula. With every passing block, every building has a little more chipped-off paint.
Within minutes, the police barricade comes into view. Sideways parked squad cars and metal fences blockade the main road as dust clouds obscure further vision into the street. The sky above hangs as a hazy brown-grey, blocked out by the particles in the air.
Sergeant Gei stops the car in front of the barricade, straining his eyes in an attempt to see through the dust. He unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out of the car, motioning for Araji to do the same. Outside, the air hangs thick and dirty from the clouds. Grunting noises and crashes become evident from somewhere past the visibility barrier.
A shadow bursts from the cloud and soon reveals itself to be a large boulder.
Araji and the sergeant leap away from their car in time to avoid the boulder. Their vehicle, however, was able to afford no such luxury; the large rock crushes the hood and cabin of the car, pressing it downwards into the road. Bumper pieces and other various car parts lay scattered around the wrecked vehicle. The tires hiss and deflate, hubcaps popping off of the frame and rattling onto the ground. The engine sputters, spitting small amounts of smoke out from underneath the massive boulder.
Araji gives her partner a quick glance, and they begin to move slowly towards the dust fog. Araji takes a defensive martial stance while the sergeant merely winds back his arm, as if getting ready to punch something with the other hand in a fist covering his face. They advance into the clouds as the sounds of a fight grow clearer. Thuds and crashes grow louder as the pair covers their mouths to stop the thickening dirt in the air from entering their lungs.
Gei flicks up a mouthpiece from under the collar of his blue suit, and Araji follows suit by dropping a retractable one around her face from her tiered police cap. The air is not much improved by the meager filter, as heavy particles whip around, beginning to cover the apparatus's ventilation slits. A wave of earth rumbles in between the pair, and they sidestep, becoming separated from each other and losing visual contact through the opaque atmosphere.
What's going on here?
"Gei!" Araji calls out to no answer other than a loud crumble of rock from up ahead.
Her foot suddenly hits something and she jumps back. Looking down, she sees that it is an officer splayed out on the ground. The female policeman coughs and continues breathing shallow, pained breaths. As Araji draws closer to the source of the commotion, more and more defeated officers lay on the blacktop. Ahead of her there is something like a clearing in the dust clouds, and she gladly rushes forward.
Stumbling out of the clouds, she trails particles and dirt as she moves into the suddenly cleaner but still somewhat obscuring air. Ahead of the young woman are several human forms moving around a central figure. By the silhouettes, Araji can make out several police officers weaving and leaping around a heavier, taller shadow in the middle. One of the silhouettes is struck by a rock column and is launched out of the combat zone towards Araji. She opens her arms wide and catches the officer's body, which pins her down to the ground.
She leaves the officer on the ground gently and unclamps her baton, clicking the switch on its side. Araji waves an open palm across the tip and clenches her fist, bringing a blunt, hammer-like end out from the baton around the size of her fist. From the bottom of the newly-made mace, she slides open a small port and a length of metal wire drops out from the bottom of her tool. Another silhouette goes down.
It's time. Stay calm, you can do this. This is what you've been preparing for.
She rushes forward at the central figure and enters into a clear section of the dust storm. The criminal at the core of the fighting ring is a muscular man with long hair, and Araji comes up behind him with the wire, attempting to trip him. He grabs the wire with both hands and whips Araji back towards the surrounding haze. She impacts against another officer and the two collapse onto the ground.
Scrambling up, she sees that it had been Gei who she had just been thrown against. His head lay tilted to one side, eyes closed. He clutches his stomach and heaves.
"Gei! Are you alright?"
"No time, newby. Run and call for more backup," he utters weakly with a cough.
She doesn't need to call for backup. Backup will only end in more injured officers. No, what she needs to do is take the perp down herself.
Gripping the handle of the baton tightly, Araji moves back into the fray, this time skirting around the combatant in the center. In the time Araji took to recover, two more officers had been removed from the fight. Only three remain, dancing around rock columns and whipping metal lines out towards their target. The criminal swipes off the lines, pulling one towards him and an unfortunate officer along with it. He knees a rock pillar under the officer and with a turn of his torso sends them flying up and over him, out into the dust clouds.
Araji and two other begin to avoid the perpetrator's attacks now. He whips around to the two officers and punches forward with both arms. Diagonal rock columns catch the two officers squarely in the chest colliding with the clinking metal of their uniforms. They fall to the ground and out of view.
It's just him and her.
The criminal turns towards Araji and makes a low battle stance, waiting for her next move. Araji returns the patient gesture in kind, making sure to stand on her tiptoes in case of an attack.
"You the last clanker?" the gruff-voiced man teases.
"Clanker?" Araji asks, tightening her calf muscles and arching her feet.
"A fresh one, then? This'll be easy. Aren't you going to run off and bring more friends?"
"There's no need. I'm more than you can handle," she taunts back.
The man brings his arms to his side and pulls down, tearing the asphalt from beneath Araji. With the advantage of being light on her toes, she leaps away from the cave-in with ease. The criminal begins to collapse the rest of the asphalt in a circle around him, pursuing Araji. Just as she reaches the point at which the ground first caved, she pirouettes sideways and strikes upwards at his side with her mace.
The double impact of the blunt head itself, followed by a pillar knocks the man off his step. He falls off the center of intact asphalt and into the dirt ring below. Araji claps her free hand against her baton, burying her opponent in dirt from the inner walls of the ring. The attack seems to have missed, as all trace of the man vanishes temporarily. She hears a crackle behind her and preemptively jumps into the ring as the large frame of the criminal passes overhead.
Araji slides down the sides of the ring. The caved-in area stands around a couple times in height taller than Araji and about just as wide as she is tall. The man lands almost directly sideways onto the wall and jumps off of it, making another pass toward the young woman. Araji jumps back, avoiding several more wall-leaps and rushes before she trips backwards over a white pipe. Just as the man lunges at her once more, she rips the section of pipe upwards and catches his upper chest, knocking him back. Water bursts out from the pipe section and begins to slowly fill the ring.
The ground muddies as the angered criminal trudges toward Araji. She feints toward him and hops back, landing against the wall of the ring before launching herself off with flat extrusions of rock. Rapidly circling around the central plateau of asphalt using wall-leaps, Araji comes around behind the criminal and manages to lasso him with her wire.
He grabs the wire; not willing to fall for the same tricks, Araji lets go, causing the mace to sling towards the man, grazing his cheek. The heavy man clutches his face in pain, moaning.
Araji pulls the baton through the air and back to her side, hitting the man once more on the backhand and clamping it to her belt as she lands. Immediately, she follows up on his distraction with several jabs, striking at a few of the pressure points she knows along one of his arms before he stomps and blinds her with a mud blast. Araji falls buttocks first into the rising mud, which is about halfway up shin-height. It splashes around, drenching her in grime as the man stumbles back clutching one of his temporarily disabled arms.
The water is going to dilute the mud too far soon enough, and that's when he'll lose his advantage. On the other hand, so will she. Moving fast is the key here.
Araji surges the mud forward, returning the favor by sucker-punching him with a wave of dirt. She closes in for another series of disabling attacks, but the criminal moves too fast and clocks her across the face, sending her spiraling into the soft wall of the ring. She blacks out momentarily, sinking partially into the sediment as the man jumps out of the combat zone.
"Enjoy your swim," the man quips and seals the top of the ring over with asphalt.
In complete darkness, Araji struggles to orient herself upwards among the crumbling soft ground and rising mud. Her hands fail to hold onto any solid surface as the grime goes up to her chest. She swipes at soft, collapsing pockets of dirt that plop into the pool. At the worst possible moment, her childhood fear of the dark and claustrophobia come back to haunt her, magnified by her lack of skill in swimming.
No!
Her parent's faces flash by, followed by various brief memories and fragments of information. Old friends, classmates, teachers, and elders fade in and out within her mind. The last chain link in the sequence flashes a brief, almost unperceivable image of Suro's face.
Why is she thinking about all those people? Somehow, though, it feels encouraging.
The motivation to make it through this fills her and she regains control of her panicked breath.
The muck surges up to her neck as Araji finally paddles upright. She slaps her hands into the mud from above her head and pushes with as much force as possible. Unstable and loose, her first launching columns fall away and melt back into the mud. She takes a deep breath as the mud surges above her head.
Araji feels the mud around her becoming less and less earth, diluting into water.
This is her last chance.
She blindly pushes herself off of the bottom of the ring, grabbing hold of the central pedestal of the ring, and begins scaling it. With all of her strength, her hands push into the soft dirt and harden each handhold as she ascends, racing against the water. Just as Araji's lungs begin to burn and gnaw at her windpipe, her hand hits a ceiling. She briefly feels out the roof of the cavern and punches her left hand through, pulling herself out of the pit and out onto the street.
Araji collapses onto her side, heaving in the dusty air. Every individual alveoli screams in gratitude for even the limited oxygen within the dust cloud. Araji hears soft male laughter in her mind as her consciousness begins to slip. Mud drips off of her hair and uniform, plastering it firmly to her face. The more watery components leak out of the plates of the metal around her chest and arms and pool around her. The dust clouds subside slowly as she closes her eyes, letting the returning sunlight hit her dirt-covered face once more and drifts off.
The thought of returning to her cramped apartment with her naive roommate sends her off to an uneasy rest.
"Thankfully you're alright. I don't know how I would deal with it if you-" Suro shyly trails off.
Araji leans in and gives him a long hug.
"It's okay. I understand," Araji says.
Suro notices a small fleck of dirt stuck in her otherwise clean and fragrant hair. As they separate from the gesture, he points to the spot where he found the dirt.
She brushes off the remnant. "Thanks."
"Are you going to be okay?"
"I'm fine. Right now, we just gotta focus on taking out this guy. Take a look at this," she says, handing him one of the printed sheets. A familiar face on the paper greets Suro; it's the man who he had fought the day he met Ogon.
Suro reads the name 'Bao Zhin' below the profile photos.
"I recognize him," Suro announces coldly.
"Huh?"
"The day I went outside, he robbed a bank. I chased him and got into a scrap. It was close, but he cheap-shotted me and got away."
"Looks like we both have a bone to pick."
"Let's just say he won't get away without a long, personal 'talk.'" Suro shudders and clenches his good fist.
Suro lifts his shirt, displaying the bruising around his ribs from the battle. Araji taps Suro's arm, and he lowers his shirt.
"I believe you Suro, don't worry. I guess it's settled then. Thing is, before we can fight any criminals, we need to set something up. I'm pretty sure we can't just waltz into the station and say, 'Hey we're the new vigilantes in town and we just took down a criminal!'" Araji says, imitating the last part with high-pitched voice.
Suro's mind runs away with thoughts of caped escapades. "I guess we're going to actually be vigilantes then, aren't we?"
"Not yet. We'll need disguises. And a ride. That is, unless you want to wear out several pairs of shoes."
"Costumes and a car?" Suro's voice grows more excited.
"Exactly," Araji responds, as Suro's energetic response begins to reflect in her voice, "But," she continues, "we're pretty broke."
"Erhm…"
"'Ehrm' what?"
"Let me show you," Suro says, motioning Araji to come with him. Suro lifts a cushion up from the couch, uncovering the small stash of blue bills.
Araji's eyes widen, "Where'd you get all this?!"
"Bao Zhin dropped these bills after my fight with him. Seeing as how the bank was demolished during the robbery and that there wasn't anywhere to return it, I sort of didn't know where to bring it."
"I hate to be that person, but if we're gonna do what we plan on doing, that money's as close as we're gonna get to the perfect catch."
"Yeah…" Suro agrees.
The two don't say a word, thinking about the consequences. Araji breaks the silence.
"Let's go clothes shopping. We can get you some clothes that aren't for girls half your size," she jokes.
"Okay. You lead the way though."
"I know just the place. My friends at school used to tell me all about this chic mall in the middle of the city. Since we have this money, let's treat ourselves, alright?"
"Just this once?"
"Just this once," Araji confirms.
Suro remembers Ogon giving a flurried speech about the value of the blue bills.
"I think I know where I can get some transportation. I'll ask tomorrow."
"Great! Let's get going, though. It's already late and I'm not sure when the mall closes. Plus, I have to write a ten-page report by the end of the week about what happened."
"Ten pages?" Suro asks as Araji grabs her keys.
She gives a goofy smile. "Yep."
Suro and Araji stroll up to the main entrance of the sprawling complex. Dual pillars separated by two car-lengths of space launch walls circling around a complex. Designed to appear as if they were the top floors of a pagoda, the wall and pillars stand four stories in height.
A green sign on the right pillar reads: 'Little Ba Sing Se Fashion Mall: Lookin' Good For Over A Century.' The left pillar's sign reads the same name followed by an overhead map of the site and several gold-font firm names ending with inc.
Two concentric circled walls surround a central pedestal with a palatial structure illustrated in the middle of the map. The outmost circle is marked 'Outer Wall' and lists various establishments to purchase food at. Subtext in two different fonts separates the franchised businesses on the upper levels from the privately-owned ones on the lower levels. The pathway in between the largest and second-to-largest wall is aptly named 'Agrarian Zone' for the products that can be found there.
The second wall is marked as 'Inner Wall' and lists shops in the business of clothing and sportswear. The layer amid the next set of walls is labelled 'Outer Ring.' Two more layered arcs encircle the palace, 'Middle Ring' and 'Upper Ring', providing information about luxury stores and artisanal services. Looking up from the map, the pair notices that the bottommost layer of businesses are visible through the wide avenue created by the partition in the walls.
Double-floored old-style shops with colorful awnings and staircases shoulder two additional stories of modern glass storefronts. Sleek steel designs sit atop traditionally-architectured constructs. Looking closely at the storefronts, Suro makes out office workers and formally-dressed staff hurrying about the upper two levels while the bottom of the facade boasts casually-clad store owners milling about. The upper level businesses are crowded with lines, pressing people up against the glass windows. By contrast, the lower level shoppers wander idly, chatting with the shopkeepers and each other.
The various layers of the mall increase an order of magnitude in class the further into the compound. Stores near the front bear simple decorations and matte dry-painted color, and each successive tier of stores is decorated with more and more vibrant and unique shades. In the center of the mall, atop a tiered pedestal of stores sits an old-style pagoda-roofed palace.
Red brick composes the base and columns, with the overall layout appearing rough, rectangular, and hard. The roof is gold and reflects brilliant beams of light off of roving spotlights positioned atop the tiles. From the center of the palace rises a modern miniature skyscraper with steel extrusion reliefs. These intricate metal sculptures jut out from the corners of the similarly-tiered glass building, taking the forms of old kings. The newer building's spire takes inspiration from the palace it straddles, hoisting a large golden pagoda roof above the entire mall.
Suro and Araji grab a pamphlet each out of a small stand, and scan the pages. Relatively useless filler language and advertisements take up most of the space on each page. The pair puts the pamphlets back in unison, noting that the rack seems to be almost too perfectly fully-stocked for it to have ever been utilized. Araji proceeds onwards into the central street of the mall with Suro in tow. Something catches her eye and she stops, pointing to her left.
"Suro, look at that thing!"
Turning in the direction of interest, Suro finds a large box-like contraption. He cocks his head.
"That box?"
"It's an old bender-tester arcade. I've always wanted to win a prize at one of those."
"You've been to the city before?"
"Not exactly 'been' been, but my dad used to take me to pro-bending matches. Every time I saw a street arcade he'd pull me away and lecture me about scams. That's what I get for having smart parents."
Well, she gets it from somewhere.
"Want to try it then, even if it is a scam?"
"Yes!" Araji perks up.
The two approach closer to the box. Within the width of a human's wingspan sit two glass chambers.
In one hang several prizes and toys on hooks, among which are a stuffed air-bison, some kind of radio stand, and other assorted knick knacks.
In the other chamber there is a maze, starting from and swirling back around to a series of horizontally-aligned containers, each small enough to fit in the palm of your hand and each having their own transparent path through the maze.
In between the two main chambers sits a money slot and a push-pin. This intermediate strip of metal is plastered with worn-out slogans in neon green on matte gray colors, reminiscent of decade-old bumper stickers.
"How does it work?" Suro asks.
She responds, "First, you pay a yuan-"
Araji slips a single yuan bill into the slit and slaps the pin, pushing it into its frame, then adds:
"And then you try to bend each of the mystery materials through the maze."
She reaches out her left hand as a metal barrier slides back, releasing the cartridges to freely move around within their paths. Araji guides the first one through the maze, looping it around twice and bringing it around through the back and into its place in a secondary empty row of cartridges. The row clicks forward and merges the cartridge back into the front row and a small green light blinks on beneath it.
"Dirt." Araji calmy utters.
She moves the second one through the maze.
"Rock."
The third one.
"Brick."
"How can you tell what they are?" Suro asks.
"Oh that's easy. My dad taught me how to focus on the density of different kinds of earth. Usually the tighter you feel the earth compared to its shape and size, the less refined and more dense it is, which makes it easier since there's more material to feel. This one for example- is concrete."
"Hm," Suro affirms as the fourth cartridge clicks and lights up.
Effortlessly, the prodigal girl completes the fifth maze and moves on to the next.
"Oh that's strange." Araji's face twists up as she clicks in the sixth one, dropping her material commentary as she grows more focused.
"What's happening?"
"I could've sworn the last one was metal too."
"Think it's part of the scam?"
Araji concentrates, narrowing her eyes and grasping her left elbow with her right hand in support. Her arms shudder, and after a few seconds the seventh cartridge flies through the maze and the machine clicks.
"Phew. Thankfully, whoever made this thing really cheaped out on refining the platinum. Any purer and I wouldn't have been able to bend it."
"It matters if it's pure?" Suro queries.
"Yes. Platinum's the first metal that was purified to that extent." Araji states.
"There are other bending-proof metals?" Suro wonders.
"See, the thing is that any metal can be made bender-proof if you purify it enough. Platinum was just the easiest. Nowadays more things are built with better technology, so they're becoming super hard to bend. There's an interesting fact about that, though. A lot of older buildings and Satomobiles and things like that which use old refining techniques can still be bent given you're skilled enough. Now lemme see if I can do this last one."
She struggles once more, shuddering even harder than on the previous attempt, then gives up and drops her arm.
"Scam?"
"Scam," Araji confirms curtly.
The machine taunts its disgruntled player with a scratchy phonograph-imitation voice:
"Time's up. Better luck next time. Come back when you have a will of steel."
"Oh, I'll show you steal." Araji threatens the machine.
She moves to the prize box and bends one of the hooks. A large stuffed air bison toy slides off and falls into the deposit. Araji reaches in and takes the stuffed animal out as the heavy prize door clangs shut behind her swift hands.
"They cheaped out on everything about this thing, huh?" Suro jokes.
Araji chuckles. "Not like I don't deserve the prize, right?"
"True."
"Want it?" she asks, holding the toy up to Suro.
"Are you trying to make me carry it for you?"
"Maybe…" she gives a mischievous smile and tilts her face downward, hiding behind the stuffed animal. The tops of her orange pupils peer furtively from behind the toy as similarly orange store lamps reflect across them, magnifying their brilliance. A passing small child with their parent wanders by and reaches out to the toy. Spotting the child out of the corner of her eye, Araji turns and hands the toy to the toddler with a wide smile.
"Thank you, young lady," the man speaks up, then looks to their child. "Fay, say thank you to the kind woman."
The confused toddler grabs the toy with both of her small arms and promptly pops one of the horns into her mouth. Within seconds most of the head is slathered in drool.
"No big deal, have a good evening," Araji says to the parent and gives a short bow.
The father leads his daughter by the hand off into a side street while Araji and Suro continue their trip down the center of the mall street. They enter the luxury shopping section of the mall, and the atmosphere grows aromatic. The paint on the storefronts is elegant and fresh, with murals depicting the wares sold decorating the small spots of wall in between spacious glass displays. To the right of the pair is a store with a display of expensive clothing. Araji tugs on Suro's right arm and they walk in through the glass doors.
The inside of the store is lit a warm yellow by many bright miniature chandeliers hanging from the white ceiling. Racks of clothes and tables with yet more apparel spread out in front of the pair. Araji notices the price tag stands around most of the clothing items.
"Would you look at that," she says under her breath.
"All those zeroes," Suro says, gulping audibly.
"Right?"
She moves into the a unisex clothing section with Suro. A tuxedoed store worker approaches them.
"Welcome, Miss and.." the worker greets the youth and notices Suro's dishevelled clothing in comparison to his company's clean style of dress, ".. friend."
Araji thumbs towards Suro, "Hi. Got any nice clothes for this guy?"
Suro's cheeks flush as all the attention switches to him.
"And underwear and socks, please. Oh, and no worries on the price," she adds.
The worker judges Suro with curious eyes, then speaks, "With pleasure. Here at Long Fashion, we pride ourselves on making those pesky choices for you.
"I will be right back with a selection."
The man whips out a small tape measure and rapidly drags it all around Suro's torso, then hurries off.
"Araji," Suro grumbles.
"What? Don't act like my dad. Relax, we have money to blow through."
"It's not that."
"Are you getting embarrassed?"
"No…" Suro squirms in place.
"Since I sound like your mom, I might as well act it. And mommy says she thinks you'd look good in a dress!"
She takes a pink, frilly dress of of a rack and covers Suro's body below the neck from her perspective, squinting through a finger frame. He crosses his legs and cowers as Araji laughs maniacally.
Quickly glancing to his side, Suro's eyes light up. He grabs a pair of jeans of a rack and holds them up in front of Araji, then jokes, "And I think you'd look good in men's jeans."
"Really? Wait, are you saying I shouldn't wear jeans?"
What sounds like Araji genuinely wondering melds into an offended tone.
"Uhh-"
"I'm just kidding. I can take a joke, although.. I'd still like to see you in that dress," she replies, nudging Suro with her elbow.
"You're actually going to make me wear that, aren't you?"
She puts on that same ear-to-ear smile and looks to her left nonchalantly. Araji sounds out the words individually. "Only if you ask me to."
"I don't need to be your dad to tell that's a lie!"
Araji tucks the dress under her shoulder without a word as the worker returns with stacks of clothes in his arms.
"Let me take that article off your hands, miss," the worker offers. Araji drops the dress on top of the pile.
"Would you like to continue shopping?"
"No, I think we're done. We'll take that, thank you."
The worker nods and rushes off once more, this time to the checkout counter.
As Suro begins to follow, Araji stops him with a hand on his chest. She begins to whisper.
"We'll need separate outfits if we want to do vigilante work. My uncle's a tailor in the city, so I'll ask him to make some costumes for a masquerade party."
"Are you sure flashy costumes are a good idea?"
"Never said they should be flashy. I'm thinking jumpsuit," she says, and turns on her heel to walk to the counter. At the counter sits a plump and cheerfully made up cashier.
"Welcome miss. Anything else?"
"Hey there sugar, we'll just take these." Araji puts on a fake accent.
The cashier deftly rings up the looming pile of clothes.
"Ninety-eight hundred seventy-one," she states.
"Araji, that's a bit frivolo-"
Suro's protest is interrupted by Araji handing over a blue bill.
"Here you go, and keep the change." Araji says with a wink.
The cashier withdraws a pocket fan, waving it at her face.
"Oh my.."
Araji and Suro walk out of the store with Araji holding two heaping bags of clothes. They begin making their way back down the main avenue of the mall when Suro's eye is caught by a store display. He tugs on Araji's sleeve.
Nearly dropping the bags, she halts and replies, "What?"
He points to the glass front. "I want to go check out that store."
The pair moves up to the display and Suro presses against the glass, admiring the jackets inside. They are all of the same grey color and have zippers running down the middle. Collars and vertically-slitted zippered pockets define the jacket aside from the white cotton inside. The inner flaps of the jacket have deep pockets, and the long sleeves end in smooth sleeve collars.
"You want one of those things? I don't know if I want to break another ten-k," Araji says.
"You won't have to," Suro replies, motioning to the price tags. The white and red outlined tag has several numbers, all scrawled on top of each other with the previous one slashed out in marker.
200 to 100, to 50, 25, 5.
"Fine. Take a ten out of my pocket and hurry back."
Suro giddily obliges and runs into the store, where he is greeted by a tired clerk behind a dusty counter. The whole store is dimly lit by shadowy pale-blue light, and the further recesses are completely obscured by shadows.
"Do you have one of those jackets from the display?" Suro addresses the man, who perks up at the question and responds in rapid fire.
"Three for five, and I'll throw in a pair of shorts for free!"
"Really?"
"Anything to get rid of these cursed things! Nobody's buying them in gray because basically any and every other color is the current mode, so you'd be taking weight off my shoulders."
Suro hands the bill to the hungry-eyed man, who begins cradling the money in his arms.
"Keep the.. change."
The man motions to his right without looking and begins nuzzling the yuan. "They're in that bin,"
Suro grabs three identical light grey jackets and a pair of dark grey sports shorts, slinging them over his shoulder. He strides to the exit with a weirded-out face as the man begins making strange noises at the money.
Araji greets Suro, "Let's get moving, my arms are getting tired and you can't exactly help."
The pair arrives at the apartment and Araji goes straight to bed. Suro looks through his new clothes as his companion undergoes her nightly routine of preparing for the next day. Most of the clothes look too fancy for his taste, so he takes a dark undershirt, one of the jackets, and the shorts and runs into the bathroom. He carefully takes off his old clothes, and excitedly slips on the new apparel.
Suro stares at himself in the mirror. The left sleeve of the jacket covers most of the damage on Suro's arm up to the wrist. His other arm has gained a peculiar attribute; his forearm has a faint outline of protruding muscle.
He uses his hip to roll up his right sleeve and poses in the mirror before Araji's voice calls out from the flat.
"Lights out Suro. And don't forget to get us a ride tomorrow."
Suro contemplates his physical condition as he slips out of his new jacket and plops onto the couch. He rolls over and falls fast asleep.