We were young and drinking in the park
There was nowhere else to go
— Bad Blood, Bastille
➵
[ 10: 30 PM, THE UNDERGROUND ]
Located below the city streets, the Underground was considered Grenwich city's black market. Where previously, subway stations had used to run was now a network of trade shops, opium dens, whorehouses, menageries, bars, fighting pits, and a whole lot of other activities declared illegal by the city, activities that couldn't be well concealed in the slums.
Ari had been to the Underground precisely two times—both when she'd been extremely desperate. The first time had been in those days after she'd left Omega, where she felt lost and disoriented and confused, unsure what to do or where to go, when she had stumbled upon the Underground. She had stayed in a dingy little hotel for three days, feasting on nothing but moldy bread.
The second time she had come back was when she'd needed money, and fast. Unsurprisingly, no one in Grenwich seemed to have a need for an assassin, and when they did, they were usually gang members from the slums looking to even out the playing field with a rival group, and even then the money they offered her in exchange for her services was barely enough to buy herself a loaf of bread for the week.
She'd given in to her internal urges and gone to the Underground, where she knew that the job offers for someone with her particular set of skills was always a necessity. One wouldn't expect any less from a place filled with criminals and thieves, gamblers and lowlifes. (Though Ari supposed she had no right to talk—she was an assassin, after all, someone who did the dirty work for cowards.) But once she'd gotten the money she needed, she promised herself she wouldn't return. There was something about the Underground that just didn't sit well with her.
Now, she was back. This time with Finn at her side.
Finn had insisted they keep a low profile, just in case they happened to run into the masked men again. She'd borrowed one of his sweaters, and the hood was slung over her head, concealing her face. The sweater smelled of Finn, a distinct masculine scent, which for some reason felt reassuring. The thought disconcerted her, and she pushed it away.
She scowled as she followed Finn through the crowds, dodging hands that reached for her out of the shadows and resisting the urge to slide out the dagger beneath her sleeve. She gritted her teeth as they pushed past stall vendors selling contraband and the likes. Roars of laughter followed them as they passed by a makeshift tavern tucked into boarded up tunnel. The chaos and noise filled her ears and the sharp scent of a strange perfume filled her nose, leaving Ari with a pounding headache.
"Where exactly are we supposed to find arrows in the Underground?" she asked Finn, as they entered a less crowded tunnel. Here it was nearly silent, not as many stalls or bars, colder and wetter. Darkness enveloped them as they got farther away from the torches that had lit up the previous tunnel.
"There's an old weaponry shop here," Finn replied. "It's run by a blacksmith who calls herself Dagger." At the pointed look Ari gave him, he added, "Ex-assassin."
Ari nodded in understanding, though it still didn't help reassure her. At Omega, assassins had the choice to come up with a street name for themselves, an alias. Many named themselves things like Crimsoneye or Deathmark, names they thought were clearly terrifying, names Ari thought were ridiculous. She'd gone by Artemis—it was her real name, but it seemed appropriate, made her think that being an assassin was something she was born to do.
Ari studied Finn as he led her along the tunnel. Curious, she asked, "Why are you helping me, Finn? What's in it for you?"
There was a long silence, interrupted only by the sloshing of their boots through the puddles in the tunnel. The only inclination that he had heard her was the slowing of his pace. He shrugged. "Maybe I'm just doing something out of the goodness of my heart."
