We found each other
I helped you out of a broken place
You gave me comfort
But falling for you was my mistake

- The Weeknd, "Call Out My Name"

you only come to the city when you're high

Impossible to miss the sound of her high heels against the marble floor. Roy heard its distinct rhythm over the noise of the evening crowd in the next room. He rested his arms on the bar top, hands hidden in gloves, a short glass of ice water untouched in front of him. He had been waiting alone. The back chamber of the bar was blocked off from the general public.

Neon violet fell over dark polished stone.

There were two sets of footsteps. She had brought someone with her.

Roy turned to look. He'd always liked watching her walk. Something about it commanded attention.

Her companion (for the moment) was one of the Belmonts. Roy had no clue which one. The man dropped into a chair near the doorway and propped his feet up on a table. He nodded in Roy's direction.

Roy returned the gesture.

Against the wall, an old school juke box flashed alternating color lights. She went to that first and dragged long elegant fingers across its buttons.

A song clicked on. A slow melodic one. Roy knew it by heart. The beat took a minute to kick in.

She slipped behind the bar. She knew the owner, and so she had special privileges. She retrieved a bottle from a cooler and a second one from the shelf above it. One was an ale, the other, a wine. She popped the cap of the ale and sauntered over to the table where her escort sat. Belmont grunted some variation of thanks when she handed it to him. Their fingers brushed each other with an air of familiarity.

Roy let it play out. He knew, she'd open things up when she was ready.

She came back to the bar, where a line of clean glasses were drying, overturned on a white towel. She selected two of them as she fell into the seat next to Roy. Then she plucked off the cork of the wine bottle and filled both glasses.

She pushed one in front of him.

Roy stared at it for a long time.

When she lifted her glass for a toast, Roy picked up the ice water instead and touched it to hers.

They drank.

She wore her hair long. In all the promo trailers Roy had seen, she'd had it short. He was surprised to see it now. That lone streak of red ribbon stood out amongst the black strands.

Ain't the kind of girl you'll be seeing in the morning...

She nudged the frame of her eyeglasses with a fingertip and gave him a full lookover- from the top down.

"Well, you're looking less like a rolling train wreck these days."

That voice...

He let out a short laugh. His new uniform was stiff, but it fit the occasion. "Right," he said. "Thanks."

"You were always my favorite of all my failures."

"You don't have failures. But thank you, it's a hard position to earn."

"I really wasn't expecting to hear from you this time."

"I wasn't going to leave without seeing you."

"Is that so? You and I both know you say that to every girl."

"You're not 'every girl.'"

"Of course I'm not."

"I tell you every time, Bay-"

"Shush. None of that now."

She turned away.

It was instinct then, muscle memory, that made him take her fingers and kiss the back of her hand.

She let him do it. Held him with that dark gaze for a minute before pulling away.

Roy was pushing it, and he knew it. With her, every exchange was always a contest. They'd been a thing. And so he had to let her know that he didn't care about what's-his-face sitting in the corner.

She was nothing if not a professional. If there was anyone who would push back when he acted up, it was her. The difference between her and Marth was that she literally didn't care if she never saw Roy again. If she answered his calls, it was only because she wanted to. Not because she missed him.

"Did someone turn you down tonight?" she asked.

"No. I just wanted to be sure you remembered who I was."

"Now why would I remember you?"

"Because I'm your favorite side piece."

"I may have fallen for a distraction."

"You were working your way to something better."

"Well I certainly hope so."

"Come on. You can't say you haven't made it. I've seen your rankings."

"That isn't everything."

"It's better than nothing. It's a lot better than nothing."

"Hm..." She took another sip of wine.

"Are you happy?"

Her eyes seemed to glaze over. She set down her drink.

Roy immediately regretted the question.

"I don't know anymore," she said. It was an honest answer.

"Well what about him?" Roy tilted his head towards the other man in the room, who was blatantly ignoring their conversation and keeping his eyes fixated on the commotion in the next room.

"Him? He's easy. Not much into conversation. Likes things simple. His skill set is maximized in two places, the bedroom and the kitchen. Not sure how to get rid of him, since I'm afraid he may already be infatuated with me."

"Okay, there you go. That's good. You hold all the cards. It's better that way."

She answered only with a sigh. Her arm came to rest on Roy's shoulder. She leaned into him, swirling the glass of wine in her other hand.

In spite of himself, Roy felt his heart beat a little faster.

Some things carried a finality written into their internal structures. Sometimes a system reached a point of cataclysmic failure from which there was no recovery.

There was nothing more final than being the last one to reach out, hand extended into a void.

Roy could remember a different time. Last summer, or the one before that? He wasn't sure. Dates and time had meant nothing to him then. All he knew was that his texts had gone read and unanswered. There was a birthday that he had missed, a card sent a few days late. It had come back to him in the mail, undeliverable, returned to sender, unable to forward.

But Marth hadn't mentioned that he had moved. And that had pulled Roy to the edge of another abyss. But he had held onto his pride. No more calls. No more texts. None of that. What was the point of lowering yourself so someone could slap you in the face.

In that space in between, he'd been "working on himself." Doing the rehab thing. Doing it alone. Learning how to walk again. How to get up in the morning again. How to get up and put clothes on and go to work and come back and cook and clean and pay the goddamn rent. How to do it when your body fought your mind at every step and your head was the weight of bricks every day and you hated everything.

Did it for a year and a half before you found him again. At another live promo event. You chased after him in the crowd. Cornered him backstage. Gave him the birthday gift you'd been holding onto since last year. Just for him to fall against you and say, not now. One hand against your chest. Voice by your ear.

"I'll keep it as a promise. Come back in another year. Recruitment opens in spring. I know you'll find your way back to us. You always do."

And that was it. A kiss on the cheek. And that was it.

You looked for the ring, the promise, in every one of his televised fights. Of course he wouldn't wear it in the arena. That'd be stupid, but you still looked for it.

He never wore it. But he wore your old cape. The first one you ever took into a pro fight. Hand sewn by your mother. Frayed at the edges. Holes patched and re-patched.

No one knew, no one ever noticed, except you.

You fought your demons alone for another year.

And time would change what you'd once had. It was obvious. Neither of you were the same people anymore.

Was there any point to holding on to this?

"When we die, we take every lost opportunity with us to the grave. In the end, there is no going back. No second chances. What you need to do, you need to do it now."

That was Falcon. In the after hours, under the dimmed lights of the gym, sitting on the edge of a weight bench, hunched over, elbows against his knees, eyes narrowed at some fixed point in the distance. All of the years of the man seemed to fill the space between them. The advantages and disadvantages of age and experience. That stare eventually shifted and burned into Roy. Burned and didn't really see him. Only looked through him.

"Choose wisely."

What would el Capitan say now?

Roy hadn't been the best student. He had fully blown his chance at another championship. It was already too late to go back on that one.

Mistakes had been made.

Mistakes that he was still trying to fix.

He hadn't been to a bar in a long time. But he was in one now.

He owed it to her. For the blank space in between two chapters of something that still didn't have a name. For the days and nights when he could have drowned in isolation. For what they were to each other. Two damaged strangers. And a fragile connection that had kept him afloat when he'd already been cut loose by someone else. No promises or vows exchanged between them. Like taking a placebo to curb an addiction.

(Memories of a small plastic cup with pink liquid handed to him over the grimy countertop of a county clinic.)

He always wondered if he'd had been for her what she'd been to him.

Probably not.

She'd never seemed like she needed anyone. Even in her weakest moments.

She never gave you her past. But you guessed it. Because she knew your symptoms. Knew them because she used to suffer the same. How else.

And you want to ask her now. Is she still maintaining? You're clean now. And you want the best for her. You could see it in her stride. She's at the top of her game. She could be all right. Could be.

Everyone had a story. But hers was not the same as the others. And you knew she'd never tell you. She fought her own battles. When the night was over, she'd leave you with nothing but the sting of her hair whipping across your face. And scratches on your neck that healed slow.

If she had asked you to stay, you would have. If she had asked you for more, maybe, maybe, you'd have given it.

But she clearly had plans that did not involve you. And as she came up in life, wings opening, each step in her ascension took her further and further from where you stood. Until that candle burned itself out.

You'd be lying if you said you were over it.

"You were just unlucky, Roy."

The way she said it just now...

He shook his head. "Nah. I made some bad decisions. I own that."

"Now that's an understatement."

"It's okay. My time's about up. Gotta step aside so the new generation can take over."

"I don't think we're talking about the same thing."

"We're not?"

"You're overly concerned about this... game. But that's all it is. A game. The consequences are minimal. There is a real world beyond this. And in that real world, the cost of each action is impossible to calculate. The fate of entire empires are determined in the shadows. And the majority of the souls who dwell outside of paradise will never know the full extent of it. The universe is vast and insurmountable in its secrets."

"You've been out there. You know."

"Darkness and light. I won't get into it now. But you understand what I mean."

"Did you ever find the answers you were looking for?"

She offered a cynical laugh. "Does anyone?"

"If anyone could do it, I'd bet on you."

She sighed. Took another sip. Her purple lips lingered on the rim of the glass. "I'm not impervious," she said. "Everything comes with a cost. Success. Fame. Love. All of it."

Roy found himself lowering his voice. "But when you love something, never lose it. Right?"

She winked at him. "You're learning."

"I try."

They were silent for a while. The jukebox had clicked over to a new song some time ago.

"If you ever need anything," Roy said, "you know how to reach me. I won't promise you roses. But. You know. If you need me. I'll be there."

"Oh dear..." Her laugh was deeper this time. More genuine. "You're like a dog. An angry rabid chihuahua. Made up entirely of two whole brain cells and absolute aggression. Always starting fires and barking at my intruders."

"Listen. If I can't fight 'em, I'll just pee on their shoes."

"Of course you would. You are pure chaos! All three feet of you."

"That's a low blow."

"Well, a high one wouldn't land on you."

"Hey! It's called having a small hurt box. Work smarter, not harder."

"Ha..." She downed the rest of her wine. "I'm going to miss you, my ferocious protector."

"Call me if you need me. I mean it."

"Your princess won't like it."

"He can't unlock my phone, so it's all good."

She lay her head on top of his. "I suppose we have our own stories to finish."

"I'll be watching yours. Every fight. I know what you're capable of. You never disappoint."

"Neither do you."

"Really?"

"Of course. But then, you must realize that my expectations are low." She kissed his cheek.

He would have said more, but the floor beneath them trembled. The building itself shook violently. Then an explosion erupted from the other room, rattling the glasses on the shelves.

They both turned toward the doorway.

Beyond the hallway, there were raised voices, shocked cries from the crowd. Glass shattering and a blinding white light.

Belmont rose to his feet.

Roy stood up. So did Bayonetta.

Now there were screams. Black feathers scattered through the air.

Roy took a step forward, but the witch placed her hand on his arm.

"This one is mine."

He stared at her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I'll back you up."

She shot him one of those looks. But then she followed it with a small smile. "You always liked to watch. So watch me now."

She gave his arm a final squeeze before releasing him. Then she began her catwalk march toward the light, guns drawn.

Belmont followed but stayed several steps behind.

Roy called to her. "I'll save you some rosemary."

She spared him one last glance over her shoulder. "Thanks for the memories, love."

Then she turned and walked out, straight into the fray.

Roy let her go.

Just call me up again.

I'll make you weak...

The sky had opened up over downtown. Several buildings had caught fire. Crowds spilled out into the streets, fleeing in complete panic.

Lucina dodged frightened pedestrians on the motorbike. She stopped when she saw the flames, the black smoke. Through the ashes and the chaos, debris tumbled down from above. She reached out and caught a black feather in her hand.

It didn't make sense.

A flash of light went off somewhere overhead. Lucina lifted her face towards it. There were two human figures floating in the night, against the backdrop of stars. She thought she could make out the shape of wings.

She felt it again, the strange singing within her blood. A call to battle.

But this time, pain came with it. Pressure surged behind her right eye. Reflexively, she brought a hand to cover it, dropping the feather. She'd been prone to migraines as a child. This was nothing unusual. But when she pulled her hand away and looked down at her palm, it was coated with blood.

She hadn't felt it at first, but she felt it now, sliding down the side of her face. Slick and warm.

Oddly enough, a peaceful calm settled over her. There was no fear. Everything was falling into place, somehow.

She was vaguely aware of movement around her. She turned to see a girl with long dark hair stumble past. Lucina recognized the guy with her as Cloud Strife. He had one arm across the girl's shoulders, head down, eyes closed, body limp.

With considerable effort, the girl dragged him across the street, where she laid him down in the doorway of a storefront. He had no visible signs of injury, but he was unconscious. She pressed her ear to his chest, as if listening for signs of breathing or a heartbeat. She raised her head to the sky, to stare at the calamity that was unfolding. Then she looked back down at Cloud. She seemed reluctant to leave him.

Lucina turned away from them. The pressure behind her eye was pounding now. But with the pain came a stark clarity. She could see the floating anomalies in the distance as well as if they were standing in front of her. Long black coat. White hair. Green eyes. A sword in his hand. A single black wing open on his back. But his power was not in the sword, and the wing did not help him fly. That was the illusion. His power came from a different source.

She looked back at Cloud, asleep on the sidewalk. Then she turned again to the white haired sorcerer floating above them all.

These two were connected by a long thread of soft light. She could see it now. She was the only one who could. One drew his power from the other.

She knew it without knowing how she knew it.

A beacon flickered alive in the sky. It was a hole, a tear, a glitch in reality. From it emerged a creature of even larger dimensions. Anatomically, it resembled a human head turned upside down, with skin of cracked stone. An angel, she realized, thinking of the hand drawn pictures found in old tomes and sacred texts. A summoned beast to keep the sorcerer's adversaries at bay.

And his main adversary was a formidable one. Before him rose the legendary umbra witch, who had already primed her weapons to take down a divine entity.

Unintentionally, Lucina had already locked onto her target. The eye - her eye - her special parasite - it hurt whenever it awakened. Her father had warned her of that. And when it woke up, it would choose its own mark.

As it had now.

She reached over her shoulder to unzip the carrier on her back that held her sword. She looked around. Along the side of a building, she spotted a fire escape. She counted the number of stories to the top.

Then she threw herself at it. She took the steps two at a time. About halfway up, she glanced down. And made eye contact with a familiar shape in the shadows. A horned animal skull. A mask.

The rider on horseback that she had been following from before stood in the dark alleyway, holding the reins of her horse. Wearing traditionally hand woven clothes and animal skin. A bow with arrows on her back. Eyes not visible through the mask. But Lucina knew they were watching.

Who are you?

Lucina's eye was leaking a steady trail of blood down the side of her face. A few droplets rolled off of her chin. They fell through the air, down the entire height of the building, and struck the skull bone of the rider's animal mask, in the space between the eyes.

The rider seemed stunned and reach up with gloved fingers to touch the spot where she'd been tagged.

Lucina's heart pounded even faster now.

Later... she told herself, and turned away to ascend the last steps until she reached the rooftop.

Marth picked up on the first ring, which wasn't like him, but Roy wasn't about to complain.

"Hey, babe. So, listen, not to be alarming, but, like, stay in the hotel for a bit, alright?"

"What's going on?"

"We got a situation unfolding right now. Stay away from the downtown area, okay?"

"What?"

"I'll explain later."

"No, you can explain now."

"Don't worry. It's just a thing that went a little sideways. I think it's mostly under control. I'm gonna check it out and take care of a few things."

"Roy, it's never under control with you."

"Well..."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Nothing. Just stay put. And wait for me."

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Uh...no promises."

"I swear to heaven, if you die, I will bring you back just to kill you again."

"I dunno. Where we come from, death only strikes once."

"Oh really? I just received a gift from an acquaintance. It's a new thing. They call it a Phoenix Down, and if I have to waste it on your worthless dead body, you'll have to go back to paying for romantic attention in the foreseeable future."

"Damn. That's really kind of sweet, honey. I won't lie."

"Shut up, Roy. Be serious for once."

"I am. You're really cute when you're mad. And you're always mad at me. But that's okay. Just let me know if you're still gonna wear the ring or what."

There was a second of silence. Then his voice came back, but softer in tone. "I am. I will."

Roy released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Okay. Good. So, uh, I'll see you in a bit. Just stay inside for now."

"Don't fucking die."

"Never. Wait for me. Okay?"

"Okay."

I said I didn't feel nothing, baby, but I lied