The Trick to Falling in Style

Blood

The function known as the Pit had chosen an inconspicuous building stuck in the dark orange canyon wall of the Ravine. People were shuffling in with wide smiles and drunken walks as if they were going to a concert. There was even a sturdy man in a black business suit and dark sunglasses standing at the metal barn doors. He was mainly there to confiscate weapons, but he was also there to check identification cards like he was a regular bouncer at a nightclub. It was such a mundane sight that Vermillion knew it was a fighting ring the second he looked at it. Nightclubs in the Ravine did not have as much security as a warehouse with working cameras and guards hiding in every nearby shadow. The Pit was extremely illegal, but it was well-protected. It would not be easy to take it down in one strike, especially not after Vermillion's last attempts at crumpling the whole system.

"I'm going up. I'll jump through one of the top-level windows like a fucking badass. The rest of you will have to go through the front door. The main fight of the night hasn't started yet, but it won't be long. The fighters should be underground in a fucking basement or boiler room. Be where you're supposed to be, and don't get caught. I'm not coming to save your dumbasses, and you shouldn't consider saving mine if I'm fucking stupid enough to get caught," Vermillion explained, pointing at the the corner of the warehouse. Although it looked like it was entirely in the rock from a front-view angle, Vermillion knew there was a small opening that was outside the canyon wall. There would be a small window that Vermillion could access by jumping from the neighboring balconies where people lived.

"And we'll meet up back in Logstedshire when we've completed our individual objectives or decide it's time for a tactical retreat," Thorn said with a smile rising on her lips. Vermillion rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure they all knew he was lying when he agreed to that plan.

"Have fun, pussies," Vermillion told them before he walked away. He walked down the street along the opposite sidewalk of the Pit. He kept walking until he was far enough away to be unable to hear any of the commotion. He crossed the street then. He used his powers to lift himself into the air. He kept the wind surrounding him as he landed on someone's balcony. He pressed his hand against the canyon wall as he jumped to the neighboring balcony with only a little boost from his powers. For the next balcony, he had to grab onto the railing to heave himself over the side. He rolled on the new balcony, continuing his path from one person's home to the next. Considering how poor the people of the Ravine were, there wasn't any door or window separating the balcony from the interior cave where people lived. Vermillion tried to be quiet, but he noticed one person rush into their living room to see what was going on. He gave them a slight wave, and their eyebrows shot up as they held a cutting board as if it were a baseball bat. Vermillion made it to the next balcony before he could get hit. Two balconies more, and he was facing a sleepy cat laying on the railing. The cat barely opened its eyes to look at him. He petted the cat's neck before jumping to the final balcony.

The warehouse the Pit was using tonight came out slightly, the dark metal rusting along the edges. There was a window for every level, getting smaller as it went up. The highest window was obviously the smallest, but it was big enough for someone to shimmy through if they put their heart and soul into it. Vermillion hoped he could make it, at least. He needed to be at the highest level. That was where all the information would be. And he had to get through the window because the highest level would also be the most guarded.

"Good luck, you little shit," Beau said through their earpiece. Vermillion half-smiled. He would never admit it, but he missed Beau. Sneaking into the Pit with her voice echoing in his ears made him nostalgic. They used to do this nearly every night. Vermillion remembered being so close to finally taking down the Pit. That train of thought delivered him to the last conversation he had with Beau. People would say that time heals all wounds, but their argument still dug deeply into his heart like a knife hellbent on killing him. Vermillion shook his head. It wasn't time to reminisce. He had a mission in the present moment.