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Lio and Galo stood triumphant at the edge of the destroyed ship, smiling out at the city they'd saved. Meis watched, exhausted, kneeling amid the shattered metal of the fortress meant to flee the earth.
“Hey, we made it.”
A hand appeared before him. Meis took it, letting Gueira pull him to his feet. “Guess so,” he said.
“Don't look so glum,” Gueira said. “We're heroes.”
Meis didn't respond.
They certainly looked like heroes. Lio and Galo seemed to tower above the city. Even from so high up, Meis heard the people cheering below, cheering for the leader of the reviled Burnish. How quickly they'd forgotten their hatred. How quickly they'd dismissed their own imprisonment of the Burnish, their own fears and biases. For now, at least, they looked up at Lio, boss of the Burnish, and shrieked their thanks, their praise, their adoration.
Meis wondered how long it would last.
#
The destruction did not remain contained to the escape ship. It spread through the city like the cracks rippling through the pavement where chunks of steel and concrete had plummeted to the ground. In its wake it left crumbled buildings, totaled cars, entire city blocks with mangled fire hydrants and churned up streets.
Even a year later, whole swaths of Promepolis lay buried under the ruin of Kray Foresight's failed scheme.
Meis picked through the rubble, throwing chunks of cement and metal into a wheelbarrow manned by Gueira. He drove his shovel into the wreckage of what he suspected was once a wall. Papers and electronics crunched when Meis scooped out the detritus.
“Oof, OK, that's enough,” Gueira said. He swung the wheelbarrow around, lumbering away with yet another heavy load of junk.
Meis planted his shovel in the garbage heap with a sigh. Sweat matted his shirt to his back beneath the bright orange of his safety vest. He lifted his helmet, letting the wind wick some of the moisture out of his long, dark hair.
He slouched against the shovel. The rubble was endless, spreading in all directions in jagged gray heaps like distant, denuded mountains. They'd been working at sites like this for a year and it felt like they'd hardly made a dent.
And by “they,” he meant Burnish.
Even without their connection to the Promare, Meis recognized the faces around him. Kali, Sitha, Jacin, Merth, and so many others who'd once proudly called themselves Burnish, even while cowering, hiding from the government and the general populace.
No more hiding. Not anymore. In some ways, being confined to the destruction made them part of the city, a vital, integral part. Like worms. Seen but never looked at. Useful but not wanted. Tolerated but only begrudgingly.
Gueira returned with the wheelbarrow. Meis took up his shovel to begin sifting through trash once again.
#
The train clanged out of the city. Sleek skyscrapers, smooth streets, cars bumping along in traffic. Meis rested his chin on his hand, watching Promepolis glide past, all gleaming glass and scrubbed sidewalks and charming little pizza shops.
The world blinked away as the train slipped into a tunnel. When it returned, there were cracks in the sidewalks, the occasional scrawl of graffiti on a building, stickers and posters wallpapering the light poles. Bright tarps still shaded the fronts of cheerful coffee stands; towering office buildings still scratched at the sky. But a smudge besmirched the corners and edges of the city now.
Each stop was like this, a tick on a measuring stick, a deeper layer beneath the glistening mask of Promepolis.
By the time he and Gueira exited the train the mask was gone. They shared cracked pavement with cars, any hint of a sidewalk long abandoned. At this far edge of the city, this new and already forgotten outpost, sidewalks seemed an outrageous luxury.
Meis and Gueira dodged out of the road and onto a strip of gravel in front of a rundown warehouse as a firetruck lumbered by. It didn't have lights or sirens on. The beast rumbled silently through the neighborhood. As it passed, however, Meis caught the driver glaring down at him.
Meis spit as the truck turned the corner.
“Yeah, drive away,” Gueira sneered. He clenched his fist. It was a gesture Meis was familiar with. Once, it had meant the arrival of Promare, a burst of unnatural fire that would consume Gueira, make him powerful, dangerous. Now, it was simply a feckless manifestation of frustration.
“Forget it,” Meis said.
“But—”
“There's no point,” Meis said. “Let's just get home.”
They lapsed into sullen silence for the rest of the walk. It took them past more run-down buildings, more broken pavement, more scrawls of graffiti, these bold and bright and layered like overlapping scars. BURNISH, some said. STILL BURNING, others declared.
Meis read his weary footsteps instead of the words. Still, those declarations dug at him. The same hands that had cleared rubble today – those same aching, calloused, tired hands – had probably written the defiant words. He saw the Burnish watching him while they picked through garbage, while they sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the train, while they slouched through this run-down corner of the city. Once, he'd promised them freedom, liberation. Now, he looked away when they tried to meet his eyes.
He paused outside an apartment building. Was this the freedom they'd hoped for? Was this what he'd promised them?
The gate squealed as Gueira opened it. “Hey, you coming?”
Meis shook himself. “Yeah.”
The elevator was broken again. By the time they climbed six floors to their apartment, they were both panting.
Even so, Meis gasped when he looked down the hall; Lio Fotia leaned against the door to his and Gueira’s apartment.
Meis swallowed, forced his breath to return, smothered the scowl that wanted to curl his mouth.
“Hey, Boss,” Gueira said.
Lio rolled his eyes. “Don't call me that anymore.”
Gueira just laughed as he opened the apartment and showed Lio in. They threw coats and shoes aside.
“Want anything?” Gueira said while rummaging through the refrigerator.
“No,” Lio said. He stood in the main room of their apartment, arms folded over his chest. Meis could practically feel his cool eyes scanning the cramped space, glancing at the bedrooms off to the side, the hole in the wall, the break in the window.
Gueira plopped onto the couch as though nothing was amiss, cracking open a drink and taking a hearty swig. “How ya been?”
“Why are you here?” Meis cut in.
Lio narrowed his eyes just slightly, but Meis caught it. It wasn't often Lio came to see them anymore. He was important now. And, more pressingly, he wasn't Burnish. Not like them. He lived in the heart of the city, him and his hero boyfriend. He had no reason to come to a place like this.
“An invitation,” Lio said.
“To?” Meis said.
Lio dug in a pocket, then held out a flier. Meis snatched it. Burnish Pride was written across the top in stylized blue and pink letters.
“Are you serious?” Meis said.
“Yes,” Lio said.
“What is it?” Gueira leapt up and hurried to Meis' side, reading over his shoulder. “Whoa, a whole parade for us? But, Boss, we're not Burnish anymore.”
“Aren't we?” Lio said.
Some of us. But Meis bit back that bitter retort.
Lio stepped forward, setting a hand on Meis’ shoulder. “You're right to be skeptical,” he said. “I'm personally overseeing this. Every detail.”
Once, that would have been enough. Once, Meis would have followed wherever Lio led, believing in the cause, believing in him. But so much was different now.
Even so ... Meis sighed. He knew Lio was trying. He knew Lio was using every resource and advantage at his disposal to improve things for the Burnish. Former Burnish. Whatever they were.
“Please say you'll come.” Lio was looking directly at Meis.
And despite all of it, despite the year of manual labor for low pay, the continued poor treatment of Burnish, the lingering animosity – when he looked at Lio he still saw the man he'd been willing to fight and die for.
“Fine,” Meis said.
#
Gueira pounded on Meis' door. “Hey, man, you ready or what? We're gonna be late.”
Meis sighed as he combed through his long hair. Maybe he could say he didn't feel well or was too tired. Maybe he could say nothing at all and simply pretend he wasn't here.
Gueira pounded again. “Come on, man. Don't make me go alone. We promised Boss.”
Boss. Meis shook his head, but when he closed his eyes all he saw were those earnest violet eyes of Lio's, still burning even without the influence of the Promare.
“Fine,” he snapped.
When he flung open his door, he nearly stumbled. Meis wore the same black jeans and simple tank top as ever, but Gueira was decked out head to toe. Purple jeans, bright blue sneakers, even a pink shirt with a poorly drawn flame scribbled on it.
“What the...”
“Burnish Pride,” Gueira said. “Come on. You gotta get into it.”
Meis rolled his eyes. Right. Into it. Into a hopeless charade that would ultimately change noth—
A horn blared outside. They both rushed to their window, crowding side-by-side to peer down at the street – where every Burnish they'd ever known marched past.
“Whoa,” Gueira breathed.
It was like a carnival. Cars dragged towering amateur floats. People paraded by with streamers, balloons, signs, flags – all in the pink and blue and purple of the Promare flames they'd once carried within them. As Meis and Gueira watched, an entire band stepped by, playing a raucous tune while revelers swirled around them.
“Is-is this...” Meis said.
“Burnish Pride.”
He spun and found Lio in his doorway, smirking as he watched Meis and Gueira. Galo was only a step behind, a huge grin splattered across his face.
“Well, are you coming?” Lio said.
Guiera immediately hurried for the door, but Meis was slower to heed the invitation. As Galo and Gueira raced each other down the stairs (the elevator had yet to be repaired, of course), Lio and Meis paced behind them.
“You know this doesn't solve anything,” Meis said.
“I know,” Lio said.
“We still live—” Meis gestured at the cracked windows and stained carpets “—here. We're still breaking our backs cleaning up their precious city. We still have little hope of a better job or life.”
“I know.”
“We still have work to do.”
Lio stopped, faced Meis dead on. “I know,” he said. “And we'll do it. Together. Proudly.”
Proudly.
What was there to be “proud” about here? They were still looked down on. They were still lesser. They didn't even possess the abilities that made them Burnish, yet they were still treated like a threat to the rest of society.
Lio patted Meis’ arm. “We don't need their approval to be proud,” he said. “It's not about them. It's about us.”
“Yeah, and how does that fix anything?”
“It doesn't,” Lio said. “But it makes us strong enough to fight, to feel like we deserve to fight. And to win. Pride is how we survived this long. It's what we had when we had nothing else. It's an act of defiance.”
Meis snorted a laugh. Defiance. Yeah, he could understand that at least.
Lio smiled right back, the kind of smirk he used to wear before a fight.
“When will it get better, Boss? When?”
Lio sobered. “I don't know.”
“Then why are you still fighting?”
Lio crossed his arms, drew himself up a little. “Because I can. Because the people I'm fighting for deserve at least that much from me. Because they're never going to treat us the way we deserve, so we have to take it for ourselves.”
Meis said nothing. They stood in the hall facing each other as the music and noise of the parade echoed dimly through the decrepit apartment building. Sometimes Lio had addressed Meis and Gueira like this when he knew a battle was coming, but this struggle was different. They couldn't punch their way out. They couldn't burn and burn and burn until they won.
Or perhaps they could.
Gueira and Galo reappeared at the top of the stairs.
“Hey,” Galo said, “you two coming?”
“Yeah what's the hold up?” Gueira said. “We're gonna miss it.”
Lio didn't reply, just kept watching Meis. Slowly, a smile touched the corners of his mouth.
They couldn't burn their way out, not in the way they used to, but that didn't mean Meis wasn't still burning. Wasn't still Burnish. And damn proud of it.
“Yeah,” Meis said. “Let's go.”