notes: warning for off-screen character deaths and general sadness (but not as much this time)

thank you so much to those of who read and reviewed! i'm sorry this is so late, i got majorly stuck on it, but i finally worked it out and i ended up really liking this chapter, and i hope you all do, too. it takes place pre-series and i played fast and loose with ziggy's history so just...go with it?

the last three involve three of my favorite pinks ever (any guesses? i bet one's not obvious at all) so hopefully they should come a little faster. in the meantime, i hope you enjoy this, and please don't forget to review at the end!

we could be immortals (but not for long)

people like us, we've gotta stick together
keep your heads up, nothing last forever
here's to the damned, to the lost and forgotten
hard to get high when you're living on the bottom

― kelly clarkson, people like us

iii. vida

He's running – he's running and running and he has no idea where he's running to but he knows it has to be any place but here or else oh god he's going to die – and he needs to keep running or else – or else –

There's a motorcycle, and a girl, and the next thing he knows is there's dust in his mouth and his eyes from the ground landing on his face. Or maybe vice versa. It's hard to tell.

Coughing and spluttering, Ziggy scrambles to his feet, ready to run off and maybe throw a quick apology over his shoulder, but the girl grabs his arm before he can do so. Oh, no, his mind jumps, what if she's with them?

"Kid, what are you doing?" she demands, in a voice that sounds equal parts annoyed and amused. "You running from someone?"

Ziggy coughs out more dust and nods, trying to shake his arm loose. She has a surprisingly strong grip for such a tiny girl – he looks at her closely and realizes she has more muscles than he thought, and her face is marked with scars. She's not just some girl wandering lost in the desert, he realizes – she's a fighter.

"Sorry, uh, ma'am, but I've really gotta run – " Ziggy manages to get out, glancing over his shoulders. There are voices, and footsteps getting closer, and oh god he is really gonna die this time there's no way out –

"Are those the guys you're running from?" she asks, jerking her head towards the shadows coming down the alleyway just behind the two of them. Her hair, cropped close and dip-dyed pink, flops against her forehead, revealing a scar across one eye. Ziggy takes half a second to marvel at how cool it looks, and another half a second to mentally wince in sympathy, because that could not have been a pretty fight, and then nods.

"Are they bad guys?" she asks, finally letting go of his arm. He stumbles a little but catches himself, surprised into stillness when he notices her rolling up her sleeves.

"Yeah, yeah, uh, really bad," he says wildly. "Like, mob bad. Super bad. I did something and now – well, now they wanna kill me. And I really gotta run – "

She flashes him a grin, quick and wicked and sharp. "Nah, let me handle this. It's been a while since I've had a good fight."

Ziggy stares at her in horror. Strong she may be, but she is one girl up against at least five top mob hitmen and she has no weapons that he can see and he's opening his mouth to stop her but she pats his shoulder and casually strolls past him as if he's barely a blip on her radar.

And then the hitmen descend.

"Look out!" he shouts, or is going to shout, or wants to shout – he can't tell if the words made it out of his mouth or not, because in the next moment, he is completely and utterly mesmerized by the girl and her fighting.

And she is fighting – and fighting well. She dodges all their punches, she kicks them square in the gut and brings them to their knees, she dances and weaves around their arms and legs like a fucking ballerina, and then, as Ziggy watches in amazement, she pulls an ancient-looking cell phone out of her back pocket and points it at the confused hitmen.

"What are you – " he starts to ask, but she mutters something under her breath – is it Latin? – and in a burst of pink energy, the men all seem to simultaneously deflate from lack of air, falling uselessly on top of each other in a pile on the ground, completely unconscious.

"Cool trick, huh?" says the girl, sidestepping the heap of hitmen on the ground with nonchalant ease and rejoining him where her motorcycle is parked. "You're welcome, by the way."

"I – uh – thank you – ?" Ziggy says in utter bemusement. "How did you – what was that – holy shit – what's your name?"

In hindsight, that wasn't the most important question, but with the world having ended, Ziggy finds he doesn't care. The girl grins at him and pops on her motorcycle helmet.

"The name's Vida," she tells him. "What's yours?"

"Uh," he says, because it genuinely takes him a moment to remember, "Ziggy! I'm Ziggy. Uh, nice to meet you…Vida? How did you just – what just happened?"

Vida shrugs. "Saw a problem. Took care of it. Not a big deal. Do you need a ride? Where are you headed?"

Ziggy takes a deep breath, his head spinning from questions, and finally formulates the most important one. "Why are you helping me?"

Her face grows shadowed. "It's my job, kid. Helping people. It's what I do."

Ziggy stares at her in confusion. "So, you're like…a guardian angel? Are you police? Or military? Do you work for Corinth?"

Vida snorts. "Never been to Corinth. Don't plan on it. There's a world outside that domed utopia, and I'm going to save it. I can drop you off at the city gates, though, if you want."

Ziggy gapes. "But – but – why? You – this is a war zone out here! Why would you willingly stay?"

She hops onto her motorcycle and revs the engine. "Some things are more important than safety. I lost almost everyone I cared about when the damn robots attacked. They killed my sister. I'm gonna make them pay. Ride or no ride, make a decision, kid."

"Uh, yes, please," he says, figuring it couldn't hurt to stay with a girl who can clearly beat the crap out of anything in her way. A bit hesitantly, he climbs up behind her on the motorcycle. "So, where do you live out here?"

Vida laughs, the sound loud and dangerous in the whistling emptiness of the desert around them. "Nowhere. Everywhere. I've got a few shelters around the place, but usually, I wander around, looking for fights." She kick-starts the motorcycle, making Ziggy jump as they start moving at what feels like a hundred miles per hour.

"But why? Don't you have – what was that back there, magic? Are you from that old city, Briarwood or whatever?" he asks, surprised that he can even remember the name. "With all those magical forest creatures?"

She doesn't reply for a few seconds too long. "You could say that," she finally says, her voice low and dark. "Corinth, right? It'll take us an hour or two, but we should get there before dark. You know how to get in?"

"Uh, yeah, hopefully," he mutters, wincing as a piece of shrapnel whizzes by on the wind and scratches his cheek. "Could you go a little slower?"

She looks at him over her shoulder with a grin. "Don't want the robots to catch us, kid. Trust me, you're safe. As long as you're with me, you're safe."

Ziggy frowns at the back of her head as she turns back to the road. "But why did you help me? How did you know I wasn't a bad guy?"

She shrugs one shoulder. "I've got a radar for those kinds of things. You remind me of an old friend of mine. People like us, we gotta stick together."

"People like who?" he asks, frankly unable to believe that he could have anything in common with an ass-kicking, magic-using, pink-haired, motorcycle-riding girl like her.

Vida lets out a deep breath. "You'll find out one day," she says, and falls so utterly silent that he forgets to fill the quiet for the rest of the ride. His questions and thoughts remain jumbled, but there's something freeing about the way Vida drives, fast and reckless and wild as the wind, getting them through abandoned city after abandoned city until all he can see is desert and dust and history.

When they land just outside the Venjix blockade around Corinth, she ducks them into an underpass of trees and parks the motorcycle, watching him as he gets off. Her gaze is sharp but not unkind, and it doesn't unsettle him like maybe it ought to.

"Thank you," he manages to get out, combing a hand through his curls – every part of him is a disaster from the running and the riding but he's still in one piece, which is better than he expected this morning. "Are you sure you don't wanna come to Corinth?"

Vida looks a little wistful, but shakes her head. "I've got things to do out here, kid. But you have fun. Don't die out there, okay?"

"Okay," he agrees, then frowns, debating over one last question. "Are there – are there more of you? Like, are you alone out there or – "

She grins at him. "You catch on fast," she says, pulling something out of her pocket and tossing it to him. "Hold onto that. If you ever meet one of my team out here, show it to them. They'll help you out."

Ziggy stares down at his hand. It's a dragon scale, bright red and glimmering under the setting sun. "What – how did you – is that a real – "

"The realest there ever was," she assures him. "Good luck, kid. Maybe I'll see you again someday."

"Yeah," he says wonderingly, turning the dragon scale over in his palm. "Maybe."

Vida winks at him, puts her helmet back on, and drives away. Ziggy stares after her, confused and full of adrenaline, surprise, and a healthy amount of fear. He still doesn't know who she is or what she does or what she means by her team but it feels like a secret, a good kind this time. A kind that matters.

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