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— This is humiliating! — an angry squeak rang out and spread, though not as loudly as it seemed to the one shouting, along Second Avenue in Ashford, almost completely filled with small local shops shut for the night behind metal shutters, graffiti on the walls, and piles of all kinds of trash that felt right at home here. It had received the status of “officially troubled” not so long ago. Not because of the dirt in the streets. Not even because you could get absolutely anything here — from fake documents to weapons. There were plenty of cities like that. No. This place had underground exogen farms — a substance that changed human life forever. Although at first no one could even imagine that all of this would be caused by an equally important discovery made by one of the research terminals on Mars. Life.
The big man sighed and glanced sideways at the tiny fairy sitting on his shoulder, arms crossed and demonstratively turned away. She was no taller than a palm, her big blue eyes flashing with irritation, and her long light hair, tied into a high ponytail and crowned with a wreath of white and pink flowers, swayed slightly in the breeze. Behind her, shimmering in the darkness with a magical glow, were semi-transparent light-green wings.
— You’ve been saying that the whole way, — he muttered, and the echo of his deep voice, like from a huge orchestral horn, bounced off the rusty shutters and dissolved into the city’s night sky.
— Because it’s true, Marcus! — she snapped louder, this time jerking her tiny legs and slamming them with all her strength against his powerful shoulder in a white tank top. For him it was no worse than a mosquito bite, but she felt pain spread through her ankle. — Ow! Damn it! — she squealed, pulling her leg back and rubbing her bruised ankle with a tiny hand. A green high-heeled shoe with little flower leaves almost flew off, but somehow stayed on. — See? I can’t even hit you properly! I’m just a small, weak, fat cow with a huge ass!
— No one dragged you here by force, FLORA, — the big man emphasized the name and added a bit quieter, — and which Marcus were you talking to?
The fairy froze. Her wings trembled, the light in them flickering unevenly for a second. She slowly turned her head toward him, and something stubborn, almost defiant, flashed in her blue eyes.
— That very one, — she cut back. — The man who worked with me in the FBI for twenty years. Who knew my name and didn’t call me… — she angrily jabbed a finger into her breasts, where the white bikini top was stretched far too tight, — …garden furniture.
Marcus stopped. The street ahead sank into shadow, where between dumpsters and shop grates you could make out a stairway going down into a basement — one of those in Ashford that rarely led to anything legal.
— In the heroes’ registry you’re Flora, — he said evenly. — And I’m “Granite.” We don’t have other names now. Get used to it.
— Fuck you! — she barked, refusing to believe in the new reality where the experienced FBI operative Alex Douglas no longer existed, the one who, together with a friend, decided to try their luck and join the heroes squad after the government announced recruitment for a new group. And even though the chances were slim, they passed all the tests. Only the result didn’t satisfy Alex — or, as she was now called, “Flora,” already heading out as part of the new group of “heroes” on her very first raid.