Stilt City is a lively place, lit by an astounding amount of old streetlights and billboards though in the end it's pretty much what the name describes. Way back when the ocean levels started rising and flooding the southern coasts, the most "historic" portions of the aging city were raised up on pilings at great expense, forming the core of a new if rather waterlogged city. And now it's the town everyone who lives here knows and tolerates.

  Better than the Swamps at least.

  The air is cool and muggy; it's just this side of fall. Striding over the worn planks that comprise the streets now is a man of average height, dark skinned with a head of thick locs which are shaded bright purple to dark from the front to the back of his scalp and pulled back into a ponytail. His face is long and expressive, though the eye tends to be drawn to eyebrows he's had dyed purple as well.

  This man, Etienne Bellamy, is dressed in his performing clothes today; a dark blue bodysuit with calf-length black boots and a thick cape thrown over his shoulders for warmth.

  Etienne has learned that even in sparkling Novalectrum, where he goes to perform sometimes, people still manage to slip through the cracks. So is it any wonder they still do in Stilt City? Still, this is always going to be his home, second but better than the first in pretty much every way. Even though people always claim that parts of it are haunted - due to all the flooded cemeteries.

  Does he believe it? Maybe he does sometimes.

  After his parents moved here with him during his younger years he found himself fascinated by the buskers on the streets of Stilt City, especially those practicing sleight of hand. As he grew older he took such things up himself, and now he's taken to performing in clubs both local and not so local. It's...proceeding. His parents aren't best pleased with some of his choices, but mostly they just want him to be happy with what he does with his life.

  That's a privilege that was never afforded to some of his friends.

  Etienne isn't simply stretching his legs in Old Shoreside - one doesn't just go for a walk in this part of the city. And he's certainly not doing so unarmed; that's one thing he's learned in his time here. Certain implants he's chosen to take see to that and they've saved him more than once. That, and he has any number of throwing knives hidden on his person - as well as a laser pistol.

  It always pays to keep a backup. And sometimes a backup to the backup.

  His long strides quicken as he reaches the end of Old Shoreside, the boundary delineated by newer planks underfoot. Before he can get much further than that, Etienne turns his head and spots two very young performers busking in a small, dirty square built of planks. They're both very much alike - probably twins, he muses idly - dressed in light blue bodysuits. Their eyes are dark, as is their shoulder-length hair, and the little exposed skin they show in the cool air is light.

  That straight dark hair whips around their heads while they perform flips and somersaults together. Etienne watches them a moment, not paying particular attention as a few passers by toss credit chips their way. They aren't bad acrobats, he notes idly; with training they could be quite wonderful.

  He wonders why they're busking in such a bad part of town. Usually performers take up positions further inland in some of the better squares. He'll have to ask his contacts what - or who - has driven these very young girls this close to the Shoreside. He certainly hopes they have a way to take care of themselves. This place is rough enough for adults, let alone children.

  The purple-haired man dithers with himself about whether to approach them. They might have a reason for being on their own in this part of town. Whoever their caretakers are might be nearby, waiting to jump in in case of trouble.

  Somehow he doubts it.

  For a magician and a performer - a man accustomed to calling attention to himself - Etienne is good at making himself unobtrusive. It's a skill that served him well in Hattiesburg and the surrounding Swamps, given his skin tone, and it continues to serve him here. He exercises it now.

  The performer sidles almost out of sight of the young buskers, pulls out a mellowthorn cigarette and lights it; the picture of a man stepping aside to have a smoke. Among the tattooed and implanted population of this part of Stilt City he doesn't stand out too much.

  He uses the cover of lighting up to pull a small mirror out of a secret pocket in the sleeve of his bodysuit, angling that to keep an eye on the girls. Etienne's done this before, to make certain he wasn't being followed. It's a good trick; and sometimes the old ways are the best.

  Can't scramble a mirror after all.

  Etienne's dark eyes narrow. Ah! His watch isn't in vain after all, though all things being equal he wishes it were. He spots the glint of hardlight daggers - concealed of course and difficult to spot under the flickering streetlights and the glowing billboards above, but still there if you know what to look for.

  He's not much of a fighter in hand-to-hand combat but he knows some tricks - like every good magician. And some of his tricks are more lethal than others. It's always best to be prepared.

  The lean man readies himself with a minimum of motion or fuss, drawing a dagger with his right hand, loosing his laser pistol from its holster with his left. Then he flings the dagger - a warning shot, one that zips right past one of the would-be attacker's noses. That unfortunately gets the rest of the group's attention turned directly on him.

  Well, he did want to help those girls.

  Etienne dodges a pistol shot and turns on his concealed shield even as he's dodging. That shield cost him a pretty penny but it's proving its worth now; another of the attackers leaps in close and tries to slice into his arm but his dagger's blade is deflected by the shield.

  The performer kicks him in the gut, sending him reeling. Then, to his surprise, the twin girls join in the fray.

  His assessment of their agility was completely accurate. They spin and kick, using any attacker's momentum against him, and they work together flawlessly to boot. Etienne pushes aside the thought that they must have been working together for a long time to get this good at it.

  Of course children shouldn't have to fight, but that's irrelevant in the moment.

  The dark-skinned performer runs for another attacker, ducks a blow, spins around behind the man. Using the handle of his laser pistol as a makeshift sap, he deals the enemy a hard blow to the skull. The man drops.

  Three down. Two to go.

  Etienne sprints up to one of the remainder, grinning as the enemy's pistol fire is scattered off his shield. But its energy reserves are growing lower than he'd like. He needs to end this before too long.

  Boldly he sweeps the man's feet from under him, grabbing his pistol as he falls. He deals the man a quick slash to the forearm; he shouts in surprise and loses his grip on his weapon. Etienne fires at the remaining man, snarling down at him and striking him in the gut.

  Unfortunately for him he didn't have a shield.

  In the end the ones who are still ambulatory flee, nursing their wounds. Etienne searches the surroundings with a practiced eye. He doesn't see anyone else who intends to attack two teenage girls, but perhaps they'd better leave the scene anyway.

  Faintly he hears sirens. They had definitely better leave the scene.

  "...thanks mister," one of the twins says rather cautiously. She picks up a bag that got kicked out of the way in the fight; probably her belongings.

  "Are you all right?" he asks, panting - he truly is getting too old for this sort of thing. "I have a packet of bandages, if need be."

  "No thank you."

  "Do you need a ride home? I can drop you off somewhere."

  Strangely, the twins argue over that.

  Etienne doesn't blame them for not trusting a stranger, especially after what just happened. But they seem to be arguing about not wanting to owe anybody.

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  The sirens' wailing is getting louder, and the performer intervenes. "Look, this clearly isn't a good place for you to be busking, mm? All I'll do is drop you off at home, okay?"

  After a shared look they finally agree.

  His skycar isn't parked too far from here, though he's naturally engaged the biometric locks to deter thieves. Despite the chill he keeps the car's windows down and drives slowly, hoping to reassure the two girls. "So, what are your names? I'm Etienne."

  "Jacinthe," says one, and "Océane" the other.

  Aside from that they don't seem particularly trusting or inclined to talk so he simply asks where they want to be dropped off. It takes some cajoling to discover that the twins haven't got a home to go to - that they've been living under Stilt City in the shantytown where the city's poorest residents find shelter. Not only that, they haven't got any parents to look after them. It seems that they, like far too many other people in this city, have simply slipped through the cracks.

  It takes even more persuasion to get them to accept help in the form of a hot meal.

  Making a mental note to discover which buskers pushed two children into the Shoreside, Etienne picks out a restaurant in a better part of town. An android server brings three menus for them. "Order what you like," he urges the teenagers.

  "...why are you helping us?" asks one of them - Océane, he thinks.

  Ah, but that questions strikes to the heart of the matter. He knows that they're lucky to not have been assaulted before now, sleeping underneath the city's decks as they've been. But he can't bring himself to say as much. "Once, long ago, I failed to help someone who was very important to me," Etienne tells her instead; his voice is steady, but only just. "If I can help someone else, maybe that would be a way of making it up to them."

  It seems to be the right thing to say to the twins.

  The server returns; they order their meals. The girls seem cautious when they order, glancing at him for permission perhaps.

  "You're good performers, from what I saw back in Shoreside," he says faux-casually as they wait for their food. And that, finally, is what they trust; not offers of help, but flattery. "If you'd like," Etienne adds, sweetening the pot, "I can help you train to achieve your potential. I could use a couple of good acrobats in my act."

  It isn't all flattery. He's been performing solo for years. But something in him, some fatherly instinct, makes him want to help these children.

  Etienne doesn't want to push them. He allows them to think about it as they all have their supper. They're starving, as all children their age are. Come to think of it, he's pretty hungry too. He expended a lot of energy today, and he's not getting any younger.

  The purple-haired man wonders but does not ask how long it's been since these children have had a decent meal.

  One of them, Océane perhaps, eyes him. "And what kinds of show do you put on?" she asks in that flat tone of hers.

  "Why, sleight of hand, little one." He doesn't have his main tricks with him but he has enough on his person to demonstrate his contact juggling as well as a few other things. Both of them get this look on their faces, one that says to him that they're interested without wanting to seem like they're interested.

  After his demonstration, Etienne puts his things away. "Well, why don't you sleep on it," he urges gently.

  The girls share a look, then nod.

  In the end Etienne gives them his contact information, as well as a credit chip with enough on it for a room in a better part of town. He can spare the credits, he's had rather a flush fall. And even if he hadn't been able to spare them he'd've found a way to make this work.

  Too many people, especially too many young people, have to fend for themselves in the world. Too many slipped through the cracks back in the Swamps, including Bog.

  It always seems to come back to them for him.

  His full lips turn down a bit. Etienne still wishes he'd been able to do more for Bog. But they were both children back then. Maybe, though, this will be a way of making it up to them.

  He's still thinking about his friend. Perhaps he should get back into contact with them, or at least more regular contact. And if he can help these girls, he thinks, he won't have failed Bog entirely.

  It wasn't Etienne's fault, of course. It wasn't really anyone's fault - or if it was, it was the fault of Bog's mother.

  It's raining as he drops the girls off at a motel of their choosing - it happens to be the one he's staying at, which he didn't at all intend. And that night, after he's showered and dressed and covered his locs, when he's lying in bed waiting for sleep, he thinks about Bog, and everything he could have done and wanted to do for them.

  -----------

  Océane is relieved enough to be inside on a rainy night that they really hadn't asked the man who helped them any questions. Jacinthe...they're always a different matter.

  The motel they go to is one they stay at now and again when they have the money. Normally they'd have to have an adult to get them a room, but the clerk knows them and, embarrassing as it is, takes pity. After being kicked out by their parents they'll both take what they can get, even if they have to talk one another into it.

  They talk about what happened while showering and getting ready for bed. The teenager suggests to their twin that they sleep on it, especially after the unaccustomed satisfaction of a decent supper. Sullenly Jacinthe agrees; Océane thinks their sibling is just too tired to think straight, little as they'd admit it.

  Together in the tiny motel room the pair wash up, enjoying the rare luxury of washing their clothing in the bathroom sink before settling into a real bed and dropping off to sleep.

  ------------

  Etienne has almost convinced himself that the twins won't get back in contact with him. For all they know he could have some nefarious purpose in mind despite his kindness to them. Ah but they shouldn't have to take care of themselves even though they're as capable as two such young people can be.

  Truly he worries too much. But he's heard too many stories of young queer people like him being turned out of their houses not to be grateful for life's kindnesses to him. After all, his parents listened to him, allowed him to come out under his own terms, allowed him to get the treatment he needed to grow up as himself.

  Etienne's pleasantly surprised when the girls contact him the next day - though none too early. As he's suspected they would, they used the time to rest well. He also suspects that it can't be very restful to have to sleep under the city, with the clammy wind this time of year brings. But he's been happy enough to wait for them. He hasn't got a performance tonight. This would be more important anyway.

  They have a brief conversation via text, agreeing to meet in a public square nearby - much safer than the square they'd been performing in yesterday. Curiously, they also ask him to address them neutrally. Are they like Bog?

  Well, he aims to please. There's no reason to treat them cruelly.

  They appear reasonably quickly, though still rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. "So," Etienne begins as gently as he can, "did you think over my suggestion?"

  One of them looks at the other; in concert they nod, which might be creepy if Etienne hadn't already seen them communicating that way. He doesn't need a reason to help these children, but he thinks that maybe they need a reason to accept his aid.

  "And what do you think?"

  "We want to give it a try," one of the twins says.

  Perfect.

  He insists on feeding them breakfast first, which small kindness they're not in the least accustomed to. After the meal settles Etienne picks an out-of-the-way area where they can demonstrate their skills - nowhere near Old Shoreside of course.

  Etienne watches them warm up and then work through their routine, solemnly appraising their talent for the twins' benefit. They're quite good at dual acrobatics, age notwithstanding. With training - and, no doubt, the ability to have somewhere sheltered to sleep and to get a hot meal - they'll be amazing.

  "I know a person who'd be willing to show you a few things," Etienne. And he knows Giselle will charge a price; she always does. But he's certain she'll see their potential as well as he does.

  "Jacinthe," he says, beaming first at one teenager and then at the other. "Océane. I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful partnership."

  And that pulls the first smile out of these solemn children that he's seen so far.