| Intersection, Pt. 2 |

“Someone get that girl!”

Marsia pushed the ground further behind her with every step. Reflected in her eyes was the gate to freedom—at least the way she saw it. Bodyguards seized her left and right, blockading the path and stopping her in her tracks.

She let out a sigh of defeat and turned around, the grassy green plot splitting her vision in contrast with the late orange sky. She could barely meet her manager’s eyes. “You suck,” she spat.

“Ah, youth,” the manager replied. “So naive to the gruesome realities of this world. You really don’t know how good you’ve got it, Ms. Lilia.”

“Well, maybe I would know if you’d let me see!” Her red hair, fixed in a messy updo, bobbled as she tried and failed to pull away. Her bodyguards held her much too tight—she was quite certain her arms were about to detach, seeing they were a dark purple against her white gown.

The manager, thinking earnestly, signaled one of the guards to loosen his grip. The color returned to Marsia’s arms, but as yet she was still restrained.

“Nnnggh! Let me go!”

“Tell me, then. Where would you go?” her manager asked, stepping forward and holding up her clipboard. When she kneeled before her, Marsia had an even harder time avoiding her stare.

“Literally anywhere but the mansion. Let me meet fans! Let me eat in a town center!”

“We can have the finest foods brought here.”

“It’s the experience that matters, dummy,” she whined, rolling her eyes. “I’ll be safe, I swear. I have lots of fans, you know!”

“Yes, I do know. And I know some of them do terrible things, too.”

“You could assign me a bodyguard,” she said, at this point throwing out ideas. She wanted desperately to see new faces—the ones here had become boring to her. This manager, name too plain to remember, was essentially her dictator.

A moment of silence passed while she thought about it. Marsia wiggled free of her entrapment, but given that bit of hope, she didn’t immediately make a break for it. She could already see the exaggerated sigh foaming at the manager’s lips.

“…Hhaaaaaaaahhhh.” There it was. “Lonestar!”

Her head honcho came forward, almost a foot taller than her and fully armed with the latest in defense technology. Locri Lonestar was a hell of a bodyguard—despite being fairly young, she looked like she had won wars by her lonesome.

Marsia thought none of that about her, of course. The woman was practically her babysitter.

“At your service, Ms. Lilia,” she said with a bow, before turning towards the manager. “Do you suggest we stay within some radius of the mansion, ma’am?

“You may go as far as the X2 Monument, and its surrounding park. Any further, I will have you notify me instantly, understood?”

“Loud and clear. Is that all?”

“No. Her parents have given me strict instructions not to let her leave the property. If they discover this, I’ll be fired on the spot,” she continued, adjusting her sunglasses. “You cannot under any circumstances give out your name. You will be wearing a hood and mask at all times. Are we clear, Marsia?”

Marsia looked down at her feet. High heels, of course, as her managers always told her to wear. She wasn’t sold on this pristine image of herself—reserved, refined, resplendent. All the Overside knew her name, just an image removed from herself.

“Marsia? Will I have to phone your mother?”

“No, ma’am.”

“There are your manners. You are only allowed out for two hours, starting at twenty-two. Be back at midnight or face consequences.”

Marsia thought it autocratic. Why did her manager have a child lock on her life? She’d only seen a bit of Overside on her short tours, never getting the chance to roam the streets. Truth be told, she hadn’t even known about Underside until just a few days prior. How ignorant she’d felt.

The manager called her over and took her back inside, as to dismiss the bodyguards. Locri tagged along, only to help Marsia dress anonymously—which became a problem, not because it was difficult to conceal her, but simply because she did not want to be concealed.

The Lilia Estate was well-known by X2’s elite. The mansion itself was vast, its grand architecture rivaled only by the sheer height of its ceilings. In a city dominated by vertical growth, it stood out as a testament to the way things used to be. Marsia only looked to these ceilings as a way to dodge Locri’s glare.

“Lady Marsia.”

“Nope, can’t hear you.”

“Lady Marsia, look at me.”

“If I don’t look at you, you’re not real,” she said absentmindedly.

“Lady Marsia, I will smack you across the face. And the bruise I leave will be very real.”

“I’m gonna tell my mom you said that.”

“As if she wouldn’t do the same thing.”

Marsia, dismayed at the accuracy of Locri’s comment, leveled eyes with her. “But I don’t wanna!”

Locri let out a scoff and reached out to adjust the mirror in front of her. Marsia wore a long grey trench coat and a wide-brim hat, adjusted perfectly to fit the circumference of her skull. She hated to admit she looked rather fine, and if the opportunity ever presented itself, she would be wearing this outfit again.

What ruined the outfit, in her almighty opinion, at least, were the obnoxiously dark sunglasses and face mask. The tinted spectacles challenged her sight to its limits—the mask itched in all the worst places. In something of a sick, twisted combo move, the mask also directed her breath upwards, fogging the shades. Absolutely awful.

“Who are you, woman? What have you done with Marsia?” Locri joked. “You look good.”

“Of course I do.” Marsia looked her up and up some more (her height invalidated the idea of looking down), noticing she was dressed no differently than usual—suit, weapons, radio. “Don’t you have to hide, too?”

“No, Lady Stupidhead. You’re the ultra-famous record-smashing superstar. I’m a bodyguard. No incognito for me.”

“You don’t wanna matchy-match?” she replied with a convincing frown.

Locri stared at her blankly, her eyebags thick with hatred for Marsia’s antics. “What is this, the runway? Get your shoes, missy. We’ve only got a couple hours, and I plan on getting sleep tonight.”

||     || ||    |     || ||     ||

The X2 Monument, the precipice of gravitational technology, held together the Overside and Underside as one joint city. It was meant as a testament against separation and towards unity, though in what could be called the greatest shame of the modern era, most citizens in their lifetimes would only see one side of it.

Marsia had decided to bridge that gap and explore the Underside. And it was here, near the Underside Monument, where Marsia and Locri were thrust into a gruesome reality they had not known.

“It’s phenomenal!” she exclaimed, finally coming into view of the lit monolith. It extended endlessly into the sky, a bright pillar against the faint indigo tint of the night. On the Overside, light pollution blotted out such pretty stars—Marsia had never witnessed natural beauty like this.

Locri pushed her from behind, knocking her a little off-balance. “You’ll have all night to ogle at the pretty sky. We’re running low on time if you want to do anything even remotely interesting down here.”

“That’s rude. Don’t push me.”

“I’ll do it again if it means you walk faster. Do you want to see downtown or not?”

“I forget. Are you the escort?”

Locri zipped her mouth shut and stood by as Marsia twirled in the starlight. This central park, often dismissed as being the lesser of the two, made her feel alive. Perhaps it was just the flood of new experiences, new memories—regardless, it was a novel, joyous feeling to live. The thought never crossed her mind that Locri had never come here before, either.

Suddenly, a call. “Stop. Marsia, get by me.”

“Huh?”

“Lady Marsia, behind me, now!” Locri spat. Marsia did as she was told and looked out from behind Locri’s looming frame.

Out along the concrete path walked a teenager, likely just about Marsia’s age. She wore a metallic jacket, draped below her bare shoulders—rust speckled her skin, neon highlights ran through her hair. A resident Undersider, she seemed.

Past the initial shock was curiosity. The girl noticed Locri and began her tentative approach. How Marsia wished Locri hadn’t been in the way! She readied a fist to clock her in the head, then realized how much strength that would require and reconsidered. Instead, she chose to spectate.

“State your business,” Locri called, aggression present in her tone. Whoever it was, Locri wanted her gone.

“Uh, I just live here. Wondering who you guys are, all shady and stuff.” Locri sneered at her, but Marsia decided she was innocent enough and took the initiative to greet her.

When she stepped out, she thumbed the sunglasses off her face, and the mask along with them. For a moment she was speechless—everything looked so vibrant now. She somehow appreciated the stars even more. Almost distracted, she returned her eye contact with the girl and spoke.

“My name’s Marsia. And you?”

When she offered a handshake like she’d seen in noir films, she was met with a firm slap on the wrist. “You moron. They told you not to say your name,” Locri said, her olive gaze stern.

“She’s not a problem, is she?”

“Anyone could be a problem,” Locri replied. “This is Underside. You know the rumors.”

The girl seemed almost offended. “Hey, it’s not terrible down here. I’m just headed somewhere downtown. Couple of nice restaurants, good bars.”

“You’re not old enough to drink,” Locri objected.

“I’m not, and I don’t. But you are,” she said in turn, adding a wink. “Are you guys, like, new down here?”

Marsia put her hands on her hips and looked up at her bodyguard. “Locri, please, she’s nice. Let me meet someone normal for once.”

It became a contest of sorts—they battled fiercely with just their eyes. When Locri lost the war, she resigned and stepped back, her tie swaying with her. “Knock yourself out, princess.”

This girl’s casual attitude was so very strange to Marsia. To her, every conversation invoked some sort of pretense, some stress to remember and to argue. That was the way her world ran. Nothing about her standard conventions worked here. There was no argument in the way her sharp orange eyes met Marsia’s own. She felt at ease.

“As I was saying, Marsia Lilia. I’m from Overside, of course. So is grumpy old Locri over here.”

It was at this point they actually shook hands. Time seemed to slow down as they touched. What a bizarre sensation to feel the bumps and ridges of a foreign substance on her fingers! All perfectly ordinary feelings down here, no doubt, but Marsia was bewildered and amazed. She saw a kind of beauty in its ruggedness.

“I’m Arufa. Don’t have a last name, I’m not gangster like that.”

“Nice to meet you! What has you awake at…” Marsia took a moment to contemplate how one could possibly not have a last name, and how it would make one ‘gangster’ as Arufa so callously described—but was cut short by an eerie sensation.

As she moved to check her watch, she noticed her arm inch upward. It took an abnormally long moment to read the time: 23:46. That feeling of time’s crawling to a halt hadn’t yet left them. She was moving, thinking, in slow motion. And it was oh so dreadful an experience.

“…Hey, what’s going on? Have you drugged me?”

“W h a t ?” Arufa asked, her voice paced to more of a drawl.

“E v e r y t h i n g   s e e m s   s  l  o  w  e  r  ...”

She watched Arufa’s eyes dart around, realizing the situation’s severity. It clearly wasn’t her doing, Marsia concluded, but it was still certainly an issue. The slowing only increased in severity. She saw Locri gauging how quickly her arms could move—or rather could not. Her brain wasn’t processing her commands fast enough. She felt frozen.

It was so very unnatural. The world clicked frame-by-frame, like a poorly rendered stop-motion animation. Her thoughts pounded and echoed on the sides of her cranium, ready to burst out and kill her any second. The starlight began to fade from view. Colors shifted, and everything turned to black. Marsia cried out for help but could not even think to do so.

And just as quickly as it started, it ended. As if skipped through on a movie player, every action she’d tried to take played out subconsciously. After her high-pitched squeals concluded, she gasped for air and blinked, glad to have her vision back. She found herself on the ground, level with Arufa, who met eyes with her in shock.

“What the hell was that just now?” she asked.

“Mass hallucination,” Locri replied. In a split second, she had dashed over to help Marsia to her feet. “That, or you just drugged us up, which I think is far more likely.”

Marsia and Arufa exchanged looks. Clearly there hadn’t been any sort of drugging, nor was Arufa at fault in any way. But considering they had to be back in the estate in just ten minutes, Marsia knew she would have no time to apologize for the confusion.

“So I’ll give you and your little friend—” she snapped to someone just behind Marsia, another teenager wearing ragged clothes, who she hadn’t noticed before— “ten seconds to scurry off before I kick your asses, fair?”

The kid looked over to Arufa, and her back to them, somewhat frantically. Marsia connected the dots and realized what they’d planned—she’d nearly been robbed. After breathing out a sigh and getting to her feet, Arufa dusted herself off and said just one more thing to Marsia.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

And Marsia watched her bolt away with her partner in crime, back into the neon lights of the Underside.