Chapter Text
Venice was a failure.
A homogeneous mixture of blood, concrete dust, and lukewarm water trickled down Neon onto the tile floor, emptying slowly down the drain. Only some of the blood is hers.
Two hours ago, everything was peachy. Neon and Raze were in line for gelato, having just eaten dinner with Gekko and Iso. Their job was to wait around for further instructions, making up four of the fourteen Protocol agents dispatched to Venice on grounds of an Omega Incursion. Once they quickly realised no eyes were on them, they saw a break on the horizon. Pleasant company, a table of baked goods, and the backdrop of the always photogenic Queen of the Adriatic made for a workload that the other agents eyed with envy.
Neon recalls the last conversation. In line, Raze looked around at the city streets, still bustling at night as it did during the evening. She spotted a place she saw on posters across the city, shining before her in all its plastic, brick-shaped glory. Sensing the moment, she pulled out her phone.
“Olha, Legoland, I think my brothers would love this,” said Raze, “Neon, can you take a photo of me and Legoland?”
Neon smiled, taking the phone. “Yeah, of course! Get over there and let me know when you want the photo to be taken.”
Raze trotted out the line, walking to the small parkette near Legoland, posing with a bright smile and a peace sign in either hand. Neon hit the photo button several times, rapidly cutting between several angles while chuckling throughout, forgetting all about the mission.
“You look awesome!” chirped Neon, examining the photos, “We’re really acting like tourists-”
…
Reality shattered with a bang that tore through the streets of the city core. A fireball rose six stories, engulfing nearby buildings, cars, and people. The blast brought down brick and mortar storefronts and scalped glass off apartment complexes. Time slowed as a tsunami of contorted steel, glass, car parts, and city fixtures moved at rapturous speed toward the four agents, swallowing everything in its path. Fear was shaken awake in a panic, and any semblance of relaxation went with the dust.
…
In the neighbouring stall, Skye relaxes herself. Enjoying a nearly forty-minute shower and hums along to an old tune. A French vanilla candle burns in a small cubby, like fire behind a waterfall. The aroma pushes the old smell of the ruined city core out of her mind. Outside, her garments sit in a double-lined gym bag, blood pooling at the bottom.
“Everywhere you go, always take the weather with you,” she sang high, disrupting Neon’s slip out of reality, “Everywhere you go, always take the weather.”
One tap squeaks and tightens; one woman exits and dries off brand new.
“Hey, are you doing alright there?”
She could see the shadow of a woman warping a towel around herself through the translucent curtain.
“You’ve been in there for quite some time; I’m wondering if you’re doing alright?” Skye spoke softly.
“I could be better,” muttered Neon, putting her head back down, letting the soft water tap the back of her head.
“Today was rough,” replied Skye, her playful tone ricocheting off Neon completely, “But tomorrow’s a fresh start. Raze should be alright now, and you should be healing up properly. Unroot yourself from the stress, mate. I think you’ll begin to feel a whole lot-”
“Don’t-” Neon let out, her head shaking, “Don’t say that, Skye, I really don’t want to hear it.”
Skye froze a little, hands in the middle of squeezing the towel wrapping around her ginger hair. “Pardon?” she asked, her brows lifted. Neon sighed, pulling on the shower valve. The coming monsoon billowed steam out above the curtain. “I apologize if my tone or my words came out as offensive,” Skye spoke politely, care lingering around her words, “I don’t mean to write off what happened to you; today was bloody rough.”
The rush of steaming water answered for Neon. After a pause, she pulled the valve back a little to the left, cooling it down just a tad to stop the slow cook.
“You still did, even if you didn’t mean to,” said Neon, her tone still dour.
“I apologize; it’s hard seeing your friends hurt. I’m trying to keep my mind off it too,” said Skye, still trying to find her way around and through the bush of Neon’s state, “Do you want to watch a movie when we get back, you know, get your mind off things?”
Neon groaned, “Maybe, I just- I just don’t want to talk right now.”
Skye nodded, folding her towel, “Understood, shoot me a text if you want to have a chat; it’s been a hard day at work.”
Skye packed up her clothes without hearing a further response as Neon’s exhausted groan was overpowered by the rushing water.
The sights haunt and mock her. Of Venice today, of Marawi and Davao City all those years back. Urban fighting never changes, no matter time and place. It’s effectively a truth she has come to learn.
…
When the shower door opens, all the other agents shoot Neon a quick, sympathetic glance. She walks to sit by her two squadmates. Her head continues to hang low while the other agents go back to whatever they’re doing.
Gekko knows about the Lakers game that began when the quadcopter crossed into French airspace. There is no television or radio on by his quarter as he lies his head flat on a folding table. Only sometimes can he sleep.
Iso has his headphones on, listening to his usual electronic playlist. The Atlantic waters shimmer in the corner of his eye like a screensaver while he tries to doze off. Somewhere beyond the clouds, he can picture Venice with more floating islands, reeling harder than it ever has.
A slight rumble jolts Neon up from her shaky nap. Rubbing the blur away, she absentmindedly checks her phone, buzzing from a new notification.
[PROTOCOL Communications - Neon/Jett]
Jett: [Voice Transcript] Hey Neon. It’s Jett. Phoenix got the GameCube working again. I'm so, so sorry that I dropped it earlier! Butterfingers, what can you do? Your saves should be fine, the console’s a bit dented, and the card’s a little tweaked, but hopefully- Phoenix, stop fucking spawn camping me! Bro! Sorry again. If your records on that Monkey Ball game are wiped or corrupted, then I swear, I’ll spend the next month or two getting them back up again and- where are you getting all these red shells!? Do you have the damn shell factory in your backseat!? Anyways, the GameCube’s in the lounge, I hope you don’t mind us getting some minutes on it. I’ll see you when you all get back. Hope everything is smooth sailing over there, but I know y’all got this!
[...]
Jett: Man, the voice-to-text on this new platform is really good lol
Jett: Big props to Killjoy and Kay/O! Better than any platform we’ve used before
Jett: Sending this text to confirm that your Monkey Ball records are safe and sound
Jett: How’s the mission going, by the way? I know you guys are probably really busy, so get back to me whenever you can find the time and energy
Neon: Hey Jett
Neon: I don’t know if you already heard from the agents back at the compound, but the mission went as horribly as it possibly could have gone
Neon: Raze is in bad condition, it’s a lot to say, but Sage and Skye got her patched up.
Neon: Hopefully
Jett: Oh nooooo, are you okay?
Jett: Did Killjoy take it well? That has to be rough
Jett: Here’s hoping our girl pulls through 🙏
Neon: As best as she could be, she’s pacing around the craft when she's not in the infirmary room. Hoping everything is alright.
Neon: It’s been really rough for all of us
Neon: I might try to nap now, get my mind off things
Jett: Yeah, get some rest, you guys all deserve it
Jett: I’ll be here in case you or anyone needs someone to talk to!
Neon: I appreciate it 🫶
Jett: Before you go, you don’t mind us playing on the Gamecube, right?
Neon: Hala, of course not
Neon: Go wild, I brought it for a reason lol
Jett: I knew you were a real one :)
Jett: FYI, I’m kicking Phoenix’s ass at every game on this device
Jett: Mopping the floor with him in Smash Bros, take my word for it 😁
Neon: Oh, I will lol
Neon: I’ll talk to you later
Closing her eyes means going back to the scene of the accident. Neon shudders as she fights past the reenactment. It’s awfully quiet in the quadcopter. Besides the rumbling of the aircraft’s cooling unit and heated murmurs between the senior agents, the ride home is silent in exhaustive fashion.
[PROTOCOL Communications - Neon/Jett]
Jett: Hey Neon, are you feeling better?
Jett: I’m not like an expert on mental health or anything, but a bunch of us are in the lounge and we could try to keep your mind off everything that happened
Jett: We have some “soda” and other related things 😁
Jett: Always good for the mind, my mind at least LMAO
Neon: “soda” sounds nice, lol
Neon: How long will you be there?
Jett: Since the weekend’s around the corner we’re probably gonna stay here for a while
Jett: If you’re down, wanna join us?
Neon: Uhh… maybe
Neon: I might just pop in the lounge for a little bit, chill around
Jett: Yeah that’s cool, do whatever, take your time, obvs rest yourself until you feel ready
Jett: If you come, I’ll see you then!
…
Neon sipped a soju cocktail weakly, barely registering the taste or the feeling. Her heavy eyes gazed in the direction of the TV screen as four Nintendo characters thrashed each other around a platform. It’s been taking a while for her to adjust to the new environment.
“Phoenix, if you do that shit again I’m putting your head through a wall,” snapped Jett, hands and heart wanting to throw the controller across the room.
“Mate, why don’t you stop putting your character where I’m punching? It’s that simple!” said Phoenix, sending Luigi over the edge, “I’m ready for the wall if you are, bruv.”
Neon watched through an ever-present daze as Jett jabbed Phoenix in the arm.
“Ahh-ah-ah! Ahh! My arm! My arm is in a hundred pieces!” reacted Phoenix to the feathery poke, adding an ear-shattering, exaggerated howl.
“I forgot we can scream like this now,” said Yoru, “Back in Italy, Viper would cut the power, and we’d all be sleeping in a storage closet.”
New Mexico’s still foreign for much of the Protocol.
Neon’s only known Venice as home since her first days at the Protocol. She held the region dearly in her heart. Her closet contains an album packed with pictures of the agents hanging out and enjoying life in the region’s lively nightlife and scenic waterfronts. Twice a month, she’d hit up a cafe deep in the outskirts, no bigger than a double-wide trailer yet teeming with life. The family that ran it knew her well; no one has ever walked into their lives looking like a visual firecracker.
Those memories of Venice are stained and murky. The cafe lies empty, the family having fled North.
…
A controller taps Neon in the arm; she turns to see Yoru putting it in her lap. “Take my place; I have to use the washroom,” he said before walking away.
It takes her a second to fully zone back in. By then, a map was chosen, and the round was underway. A slight smile washes over her face as she puts her glass down. They don’t know Yoru has handed her the key to the city.
Jett’s the first to notice the change over the noise of the lounge. Nestled in a throw blanket, her eyes widen, and her body heats up. When Neon’s first steps occur, Jett leans forward, hunching over her controller. Before she could set up a combo, Luigi exited stage right by Fox’s hand.
“Oh my god,” said Jett, “Girl, what the hell was that?”
“Just a little move,” Neon said plainly, “You want to see it again?”
Three minutes later, Yoru had returned to see Fox on the win screen with two of three lives remaining. Phoenix looked to Neon, mouth agape. He’d never seen a showing like it.
“Fam, Neon!” he shouted from across the sectional, “You’re crazy! How the hell did you do that?”
Neon cast a hesitant gaze to Phoenix, chuckling nervously as she turned back to her controller.
“Yeah, Neon, you went crazy on us!” said Jett, imitating karate moves, “You went like, doosh! Pow! Bang! Then I saw my guy fly off the map!”
“I, uh…” muttered Neon, “I own the console, so… I grew up playing Melee.”
“So did I!” said Harbor, “That is an impressive performance, Neon, where’d you learn to do all those long-winded combos?”
Neon pushed off the couch cushion she had been actively sinking in for the past thirty minutes. “Brothers,” she started, “All my brothers would play this game for hours and hours every day when I was little, and I really wanted to join.”
Her voice pepped up. A genuine smile started to emerge as Neon looked up at her fellow agents, her friends who wanted the best for her.
“Since, you know, they couldn’t wrestle me,” she said, electric fuzz jumping from digit to digit, “They chose the next best option of teaming against me when they handed me a crusty fourth controller.”
“You’re lucky, my brothers chose the easy route and wacked me to half-death with pillows,” joked Jett.
“I used to kick my sister off the bed when we played rough,” said Yoru, reminiscing with a can of beer in his hand, “Ah, those were good days.”
“Bro, okay, you’re going to atone for all that,” sneered Jett, “On behalf of little sisters everywhere, take my controller and let Neon wipe the floor against you.”
Yoru chuckled haughtily. “On behalf of little sisters? Exactly. The big brother’s coming to do the job for you-”
“Just walk the walk, Yoru,” cut in Jett, with an unserious glint in her eye, “Take the fucking fight.”
Jett stood up, controller in hand, and passed it to Yoru. In her other hand, a green apple soju she had already made quick work of. She took a sip as another game loaded up between Neon and the other three guys. Minutes later, it ends the same way with Fox holding steady on top of the podium and a wider smile on Neon’s face.
“Neon, you’re an animal!” cheered Harbor, the opposite of Yoru’s sedated, silent demeanor.
“Another game, lads?” said Phoenix, “I don’t know about you guys, but Mario Party sounds cracking right about now.”
Neon chuckled, “Just as my brothers used to say.”
…
It was nearing midnight as Neon, Jett, Phoenix, and a CPU finished up turn eighteen of twenty. Neon drank a cocktail — her third, this time Sprite and yogurt soju — with quick vigour, surprised the alcohol hadn’t hit her yet. Jett’s heavy sipping is starting to make its rounds through her. It takes her a minute to process what she’s been seeing on the television as the screen melds into a sludge and leads her to finish dead in the back of the last four minigames.
“Y-you allllll know,” stumbled Jett, “I always come back.”
“Fam, you’re down two stars!” exclaimed Phoenix.
“Nuh uh,” replied Jett, “Do you know what we’re playing?”
Neon turned to the two, long-established best friends sitting beside her. In this sliver of time, they’re keeping her mind off the elephant idling behind her. Protocol’s kept her apart from them on missions and excursions. In a way, this drunken hang-out made up for lost time.
“How are you guys finding New Mexico?” asked Neon.
“It’s not Venice,” said Phoenix, “But mate, I’m glad we didn’t get somewhere freezing twenty-four seven. I already spent too many weeks in Russia, fam, I can’t handle that!”
“Oh god, don’t remind me, Phoenix,” sighed Jett, “I-I can’t believe we’re going back there next weekend.”
“Hala, you guys are going back?”
“Yes!!” exclaimed Phoenix, his sudden volume shocking Neon, “They couldn’t even be arsed to put us somewhere cool, like Saint Petersburg or some other artsy place! It’s always the arse end of nowhere that freezes your buns.”
“Buns,” chuckled Jett, “Buunnnns… Pork buns would really hit the spot right now…”
“Neon,” said Phoenix, “Where’s your next placement?”
“Denver, some possible Omega or strange radianite activity there,” said Neon.
“Mate, that’s lucky, you don’t even have to fly that far,” lamented Phoenix.
“Yeah… whole lot more peaceful too,” sighed Neon, watching the screen as Toad landed on a miracle space, “Shit, I don’t want that.”
The miracle space acts as judge, jury, and executioner for many games of Mario Party 6, no matter the time or board. A brutal, often unforgiving dynamic that shifts stars and coins alike to anyone, like Robin Hood born out of chaos. Nineteen turns can be all for nought if the space decides so, and it has the agents curling their toes and watching in anticipation. The in-game host chooses the giver with a simple spin of a wheel.
Daisy, Jett’s character.
“Shit… I c-can’t afford to give anything,” she gasped, face contorting to one of unease.
“Ohhhh, Jett,” sassed Phoenix, shooting her a cocky look, “Who’s going to win in the sweepstakes now?”
A second roll, Toad. Neon’s chosen character. “Yes! Hahaha, what are you going to do about that?” cheered Neon, already two stars ahead of Jett.
“God, could this game be any more unfair?” groaned Jett, taking another sip of soju, “It’s rigged, only explanation.”
“Okay, but-”
The third wheel finished spinning, a star with two arrows running in either direction. If Phoenix finished his sentence faster, they would have been reminded that the miracle space can swap stars and coins too.
Daisy cheered while Toad had his hands on his shroom head, and the picture came alive the same way in both the OLED and real world. “Diyos Ko! What!?” shouted Neon, hand running down her face, trying to erase the sight of her star count dropping from four to two. It was, for a time, but now replaced with her white-haired friend blasting finger guns awfully close to her face.
“Who’s the boss here!?” announced Jett, loudly inebriated, “I’m the f-fucking boss here, bitches!! Oh shit! Who’s the agent in first-”
“That’s mad,” said Phoenix, scratching his temple.
“That’s right! Me! Far and away ahead of the pack! Acing the test!” continued Jett, “Ba-bom-ba-bum!!”
“Hala, I can’t believe that…” said Neon, shaking her head, “Shit, Good game, let’s get this over with.”
“S’pose your luck ran dry?” said Phoenix coyly, eyeing Neon.
“I guess,” said Neon with an ironic smile, “I’m blaming Brimstone for this loss. He knew I’d lose this game badly, so he made up for it by sending me to Denver.”
Phoenix chuckled, though it appeared silent under Jett’s drunken celebration in front of the television. “What’s even in Denver?” said Phoenix, “I only know that place by name.”
“You tell me,” said Neon, “All I know about Denver is that they have the second best basketball player on the planet.”
“And that would be?”
“Nikola Jokic, but he doesn’t hold a candle to Joel Embiid,” said Neon with her chin up, “Don’t let anyone here tell you otherwise.”
“What’s an Embiid? Or a Jokic? Are they like… new agents,” Jett muttered to herself.
“I sure won’t,” chuckled Phoenix, “Do you happen to know the best basketball player in the Arctic Ocean I can watch?”
“Hahaha, no, no, unfortunately,” said Neon, “I swear they never put you anywhere warm!”
“Oh they fucking don’t!” shouted Jett, letting the game run idly in the background, knowing her victory is more than secure, “Russia twice, Norway twice, Iceland once. Girl, I’m not kidding when I say command is trying to extinguish him!”
A spur enters Neon’s mind. Even though she’s more than accustomed to warm climates from her nonage in the Philippines and Protocol missions in Los Angeles and Istanbul, she’s getting sick of the heat. You can only take off so much clothes when fighting a losing battle against temperature.
“Phoenix, one-time offer,” said Neon, “Since it’s only a weekend, we trade places-”
“Cheers!” he responded with no hesitation, “Your boy is headed to Denver, and he’ll be the best in town.”
“Bro, at least wait for her to finish!” guffawed Jett, “You don’t even know if she’s asking you to head to Denver!”
“Oh, I am,” said Neon.
“That’s right,” said Phoenix, going up to dap up Neon, “That’s fam right there!”
Jett put her hands up, knowing well that Phoenix just abandoned her side in Russia.
“Whatever, Phoenix,” said Jett with a twinkle in her eye, turning to Neon, “Neon and I make the best duo ever. Omega doesn’t know about the lightning storm, do they?”
“That’s right,” stated Neon, “They don’t know what’s about to hit them.”
…
“We drank a lot, didn’t we, holy smokes,” groaned Phoenix, getting out of the fabric depression on the couch.
Nearby, Neon was out, drooling all over the orange couch covers and her throw blanket. Jett could barely steady herself, stumbling into the dining tables, and grasping against the doorframe out of the lounge. “Jett, you look totally mullered,” asked Phoenix, holding the empty bottles, "you good, fam?”
“That was a good game,” she muttered, swaying back and forth, “I drank a lot… shittt… I can’t do that.”
“Why?” said Phoenix, raising his brow, “It’s a Saturday tomorrow, fam! Have a kick back, play some more ‘cube-”
“No… no, I have to… supervise the prisoners they took in today.”
“Oh, when?”
“Just before lunch or so… I don’t know anymore… I’m so tired…” said Jett, leaning her head against the wall and sliding down ever so slightly.
“Mate, what are we doing! You can’t be drinking like that then!” said Phoenix, “Hey, if I’m feeling alright, you want me to do it?”
“No… N-no, I'll uh… be fine,” she slurred, shambling over to her sleeping friend.
Jett put her hands into Neon’s sapphire locks, shaking her up by wrangling her hand clumsily around her dome. “Hey… s-sleepyhead, wake up, girl, we gotta sleep or something.”
Neon woke up in a daze, smacking her lips as the taste of alcohol irritated her tongue. “Aiya, what’s…” Neon moaned out as she rolled down the couch, legs dragging themselves across the wood floor.
“G-Girl, are you alright?” said Jett, attempting to find Neon’s armpits to drag her up.
Groaning ever more, Neon got up, with Jett’s hands being the one thing that separated her from a hard fall. “Thank you, I almost had… a stumble there, uh… what time is it?”
“Late, nearing midnight,” said Phoenix, taking a comfortable guess based on previous checks, “You look knackered, come along, let’s get you out.”
Phoenix left the bottles on the table for later, before coming to tug along his two friends. “Hey, I never said… just… thanks, I really needed this. Hala, today was awful until I came down here,” said Neon, as suddenly genuine as her drunken self could be, “W-we need… to do this more.”
Jett’s ringing ears couldn’t make out the words said. If they could, there would be three smiles in unison.