Chapter Text
A dilapidated taxi idles at the curb, looking about thirty years older than Ripred himself, when they finally make it to the rendezvous with Aurora. “What happened to flying, princess? I’m sure you mentioned something about that earlier. And don’t you dare say I’m going senile in my old age, because we all know I’m the sharpest one here.”
“You stole the words right out out my mouth.”
Hearing the commotion, golden-haired woman pokes her head out of the driver’s window. “We could fly, if you wanted to get shot down before we make it a mile. Personally, I’d rather not die today, so we’re grounded.”
“Solovet has increased sky patrols due to our increased aerial activity. So we are taking the necessary precautions. It would be a shame for that to happen “right before the big showdown” as you so helpfully put it.” Luxa adds.
She starts pulling open the passenger side door and Ripred slips through the gap. “Thanks. I told them chivalry wasn’t dead, but they wouldn’t believe me.” He pulls the door closed and smirks at her through the open window. ‘This is for the princess umbrella.”
“This is worth it.” She slips into the backseat. “If you would, Aurora. I’d like to get this done with as quickly as we possibly can. Ripred has been spending too much of his spare time in alleys.”
“It would help if prissy little princesses were on time. Then I wouldn’t’ve had to crouch behind a dumpster for twenty minutes.’
“You must have felt right at home.”
Ripred opens his mouth to respond but Aurora throws out an arm and slaps her hand over his mouth. “I know this is how you two deal with your trauma but I can’t put up with this for the whole drive. And since I can actually do something about it for once, I’m making a new rule. No bantering until you two are very far away from me, or I’m done chauffeuring you around. Otherwise, I’m dumping the two of you on the sidewalk and going home. Understood?”
“But—“
Aurora glares daggers through the rear view mirror. “I mean it, Luxa. Read my mind and you’ll only have more confirmation.” She must because after a few moments, she slumps in her seat, pulling out a pair of headphones and what looks to a map of Regalia and surrounding towns.
Ripred scowls beneath the hand clapped over his face. He thinks about breaking the arm, or at the very least biting her hand, but Aurora must have picked up a mind-reading trick or two from her sidekick, because her grip tightens noticeably. “You too, Rager. Nod if you understand.”
It would seem weak to acquiesce right away, so he takes a minute to run through options. He has no flier sidekick, can’t afford a car, and his network of allies was greatly depleted after the War of the Bane. Most of the remainder have joined Solovet’s regime. Rat-shifters can’t be seen on the streets, for fear of arrest or, more often, death. He’s managed to get by thus far on a combination of his own cunning and using his status as former war hero, but every day more civilians are ascribing to the “kill first, ask questions never” approach to his kind.
In the end, he nods, because there’s not much else he can do. Aurora removes the hand, but not before he gives it a spiteful lick. She curls her nose in disgust but makes no further comment. Ripred expects some satisfaction from the action but…nothing. Straightening, he glances back at Luxa, who is still engrossed in her map. Deciding that course of action is not one he wants to pursue at the moment, he instead asks, “Where in God’s name are we going? We’ve spent the past five years scouring Regalia and every other dirty slum in a hundred mile radius a dozen times over. Is there new information or are we just going through the same motions we have been?”
“One of Luxa’s most reliable sources has given us a location. It’s out in the suburbs, maybe forty minutes from our location.”
"Who is this source? Did they tell her what we should find at this location?”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information at this time.”
“So it’s either a really terrible source, and I mean really terrible, or you have no clue.” Ripred takes a moment to study her face, which doesn’t so much as twitch under his scrutiny. “Oh, it’s definitely the second one. How lovely.”
“The princess has been at this since she was born. She knows what she’s doing.”
“She’s also a twenty-four year old girl who’s leading with her heart instead of her head. You know as well as I am that this could be a trap.”
“I’d trust Luxa with my life."
“Well, I’m glad one of us does.” He slouches in his seat, and watches as the stone-gray city whips past. For a moment, he wonders why the hell he’s trying to save it.
Eventually, monochrome skyscrapers and apartment buildings fade into two-story houses with large stretches of green between them. Trees begin popping up more and more often, and an abundance of glass is replaced by an abundance of brick.
There are signs of the War of the Bane on the edges of everything. In the intervening years, people have done their best to slap a coat of paint over everything, but a trip to Sherwin-Williams can’t do much for the bomb craters Aurora has to swerve around on the outskirts of each town they pass through. Shells of houses sit with broken windows and caved-in roofs waiting to be demolished.
Some of the damage is even older; his country has known war for almost as long as Ripred has been alive and despite what he tells the little princess, he has a good number of years under his bed. Some cross the Waterway looking for better life in another place, preferably with less superhero in-fighting and bombings gunfire as less of a daily occurrence.
He can’t blame them. Twenty or so years ago, he was ready to do the same. He wishes he could say the reason he stayed is that the Underland got deep in his bones and he couldn’t bring himself to abandon his homeland, but other bones have become his excuse.
As his thoughts meander into the introspective, pockmarked asphalt cedes to twisting dirt roads as suburbia bleeds into an almost pastoral scene. The distance between houses are numbered in miles. Ripred wonders which of their scattered number ended up in the armpit of nowhere. It could be any number of them, in all reality. After Luxa’s fall, those with any brains went to ground and Ripred made it a point not to ally himself with people who lacked in that regard unless absolute necessity dictated otherwise.
“Are we getting close?” he asks as they pass yet another band of grazing cattle.
“Five minutes, though if you keep up with that line of questioning, I might be forced to make it fifteen.”
“Then I’ll try a different one. Do you have any clue who this person is we’re going to visit? Because I’d like to know what sort of weapon I should have at my disposal.”
“Patience. We’ll find out soon enough. Does it really matter in any case? If it is a trap, we know you only have one real weapon at your disposal.”
“Are you referring to my charm, my wit, or my stunning good looks?”
She keeps her eyes glued to the road but a tiny quirk at the corner of her mouth lets him know that this quest isn’t entirely a waste. He’s still basking in that satisfaction when Luxa perks up and pulls out her headphones. She glances down at her map and back at the surroundings. “We should be coming up on it soon. On the right.”
It’s not what Ripred expected; a sprawling, single-story ranch house on a small but reasonably well-maintained piece of land. A small barn with peeling red paint stands near the back of he property, a rusting blue tractor and a reasonably well maintained black pick-up parked out front. A colorful array of flowers grows out front, seemingly no rhyme or reason to where they were planted. Thinking back on their array of allies, he knows no one, dead or alive, who would have such a display
Aurora parks at the end of the long driveway, sighing relief as she put the taxi into park. Luxa scrambles out of the car, leaving her map on the seat and her headphones half-dangling out of her pocket. “Come on. This is the place.”
Ripred reluctantly follows, slamming his door hard enough to make Aurora wince. A few flakes of the paint flutter to the ground. “Now will you tell me who it is we’ve come to see?” She stops, about halfway to the house, but when she doesn’t answer, he’s forced to ask, “Do you even know who it is?”
“I think this is it.”
“What’s it?”
“We’ve searched the length and breadth of areas charted and uncharted and come up with nothing. We both know we need a miracle, and this just might be what we’ve been looking for.”
“We don’t need a miracle. Hell, I’ve never known you to believe in them. This is from the girl who used to think she would die every day so she wouldn’t be afraid if the time came.
“Times change. Sometimes necessity forces us to hope. To believe in something like miracles.”
He scoffs. “We need the Warrior and pardon me, but I think if he was hiding out on a farm in the middle of nowhere, Solovet would have found him a long time ago. As much as I hate Granny dearest, she’s not stupid. If she was, she never would have stolen your place in the first place. She’s been looking in the same places for just as long as we have. Even if this was once an ally, we’re either looking at a plant, someone who turned in the last twelve years or that door is going to blow up as soon as you open it. If this is anything other than a trap, I’ll eat my shoe.”
Luxa’s violet eyes flash and she walks the last fifty or so yards with a quick, determined step Ripred finds himself struggling to match. “If you do this, we’re all going to regret it.”
She shrugs as she approaches the red-painted front door. “Add it to the list, I suppose.” He finally closes the distance between them, but she raps on the door before he can catch her wrist.
It seems to echo through the countryside and Ripred takes several quick steps back, bracing for impact. Impact that never comes. Instead, the door opens with a quiet creak and Luxa turns around, grinning like the rat who got the shrimp and cream.
“Best get started on eating that shoe.”