“Let me buy you a drink?”
Blaze Reddington, leaning back against the worn wood of the tavern booth, surprised herself that not a single syllable slurred. Across from her, a quaint woman, perched precariously on the edge of her seat, pen clutched tight, seemed utterly out of place amidst the raucous laughter and clinking tankards. “What makes you think I’m thirsty?” the woman replied, a hint of steel beneath her prim exterior.
“I don’t care if you are, but I am.” Blaze punctuated the remark with a slow, deliberate wink, but it was met with a flicker of pure disgust. The woman, gathering her scattered notes with an indignant huff, rose and practically fled from the tavern.
“Please stop scaring away my customers, Blaze.” Hilda, the proprietress, a woman built like a warhorse, said from behind the bar, her tone half-joking, half-pleading.
“How about another round?” Blaze extended her arm, with an empty mug, towards the beleaguered barmaiden.
“Blaze, I think you’ve had…”
“I said another round!” The words cracked like a whip, followed by the sickening crunch of glass as Blaze smashed the mug against the counter, sending shards dancing across the polished wood. Despite being twice Blaze’s size, Hilda merely sighed, an age-old weariness in her eyes, and began to pour golden ale from a keg into a fresh, crystal mug.
Just then, the tavern doors swung inward with a creak that silenced the entire room. Every head turned, every conversation died, as Valery Snowdrift stepped into the flickering lamplight. Leader of the city’s Defense Force, and second only to Elodie Petalcrest in sheer political power, her presence was a force.
“And to what do we owe this honour?” Blaze drawled, a mocking challenge in her voice, as Valery strode purposefully towards her.
“We need to talk.” Valery’s voice was low, urgent.
“Can I finish my drink first?” Blaze brought the newly filled mug to her lips, the cold golden ale a welcome contrast to the rising heat within her. A frothy white mustache briefly adorned her lip, before a quick, practiced lick erased it as she swallowed deeply.
“It’s about your sister, Ruby. One of my team members saw her enter the Wastelands alone, and hasn’t seen her return.”
Fear, a raw, unfamiliar sensation, gripped Blaze for a fleeting moment, a cold hand squeezing her heart. But it was immediately, savagely, suppressed by a surge of pure, unadulterated rage. “Why haven’t YOU gone out looking for her?”
Before Valery could react, Blaze had her by the collar, lifting her clean off the ground and pressing her against the wall with a strength that belied her frame. The silence in the tavern was now absolute, the air thick with tension. Many had witnessed Blaze’s brutal dominance in the arena just last night, her effortless dismantling of every opponent. But now, she was challenging Valery Snowdrift, the leader of the city’s protectors.
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“You don’t need me to remind you that YOU are the leader of the city’s Attack Force, and therefore she is your responsibility. Now put me down, or you will be the second person I arrest today.” Valery’s voice, though strained, held an unwavering authority.
A spark ignited in Blaze’s furious mind, a sudden, brilliant idea. She lowered Valery gently back to the ground. “You are a genius, Val!” And with a sudden, audacious movement, Blaze reached out and kissed her full on the lips.
Without another word, Blaze snatched her giant blunderbuss from beneath the counter, the heavy weapon thudding satisfyingly into her grasp, and stormed towards the exit.
“Hey! Aren’t you going to pay?!” Hilda’s voice echoed after her.
“Put it on my tab, darling!” Blaze yelled back, already through the doors.
She knew exactly where she had to go. She marched through the city streets, a whirlwind of purpose, some women in her path scattered like startled pigeons while others got a forceful shove out of her way. In short order, Blaze reached her destination: the city’s jail.
Upon entry, she was greeted by a steampowered droid, one of the many relics from the previous generation’s attempt to automate law enforcement. A puff of steam hissed from its intricate mechanisms as it began one of its few recorded phrases: “Sorry, ma’am, we are closed. Please come back another…”
Blaze, without breaking stride, punched its head clean off its metallic shoulders. The droid crumpled to the ground, a heap of gears and sparking wires. The iron in this town is getting rusty, Blaze thought as she descended into the damp basement where the holding cells were located. This, after all, was merely the first step in her audacious rescue plan for Ruby.
“Who are you? And what are you in for?” Blaze bellowed, her voice echoing off the stone walls, startling a small girl huddled in a cell, cradling a racoon.
“My name is Willa,” the girl piped up, surprisingly unafraid, “this little guy is Randy, and we’re in for stealing food.” Blaze smiled; a good scout, she’d make.
“And you, over there? Same questions.”
From the deeper shadows of an adjacent cell, a voice answered, smooth as silk, yet laced with fire. “The name is Pyrea.” As the speaker snapped her fingers, a small, vibrant flame danced into existence in the center of her palm, illuminating a mischievous grin. “And if you ever wondered who burnt down the cinema, look no further.”
An arsonist fire mage. Normally, they couldn’t be trusted, their tempers as volatile as their powers. But tonight, Blaze was desperate. With the heavy butt of her blunderbuss, she smashed the cumbersome locks, the clang of metal against metal resounding through the confined space as the cell doors swung open.
“Tonight, I’ve got a job for you two.”
But before she could elaborate, a blinding beam of light from a torch sliced through the gloom, falling upon all three of them. Justine Veilstorm, the city’s Chief of Police, stood at the top of the stairs, her face a mask of unimpressed authority.
“Miss Reddington, what do you think you are doing with those prisoners?”
“Prisoners? What prisoners?” Blaze grinned, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “These lovely ladies are the newest members of the city’s Attack Force.”

