The Ember Tap

The streets of Carthis whispered like dying embers, their secrets curling in the air like smoke from a smoldering fire. A forgotten city, it lay tucked beneath the radar of the Hero Association's sprawling global network, its cracked asphalt and crooked alleys nestled in the shadows of skeletal skyscrapers. Their shattered windows glinted under flickering neon, casting jagged reflections across puddles of stagnant rainwater.

Carthis wasn't loud or bustling like the metropolises patrolled by caped saviors. It was a city that watched. Eyes peered from behind grimy curtains, lips murmured behind the haze of cigarette smoke, and rumors slithered through every darkened corner, carried on the breath of the desperate. This wasn't a place for Heroes or Villains. It belonged to those who had nowhere else to go.

Kael, Mira, and Reina moved through the city's back alleys in silence, their footsteps muffled by the damp, uneven cobblestones. The air was thick with the scent of rust and motor oil, mingling with the faint tang of cheap liquor spilling from nearby bars.

Carthis didn't sleep, but it didn't live either—it existed in a liminal state, a purgatory for the lost and the hunted. For the trio, it was the perfect place to vanish, to weave themselves into the city's underbelly and emerge with answers.

Kael led the way with a quiet certainty, his long coat brushing against the sides of rusted dumpsters and graffiti-stained walls. His sharp eyes scanned the faces they passed—ex-mercenaries with scars mapping their failures, low-rank thugs clutching knives too dull to matter, and half-failed vigilantes whose ideals had long since crumbled under Carthis's weight. Somewhere in this mess of broken dreams and hidden agendas, there were people worth liberating. Or, if need be, using.

Their destination was The Ember Tap, a squat bar wedged between a pawn shop with a flickering "CASH FOR GOLD" sign and a cybernetics garage where sparks occasionally flared from a half-repaired prosthetic arm. The bar's exterior was unassuming—peeling paint, a single flickering neon sign that buzzed like a dying insect—but its reputation was anything but.

It was a place where questions went unasked, and tongues loosened after a single drink too many. Perfect for eavesdropping, recruiting, or catching whispers of black-market supply chains that snaked through Carthis's veins.

The moment they pushed through the heavy, creaking door, the atmosphere shifted like a held breath released. The low hum of a hacked speaker system pulsed with distorted music, a warped remix of some forgotten pop song. The walls were dark brick, stained by decades of smoke and spilled liquor, their surfaces pockmarked with scratches and faded graffiti.

Half-torn bounty posters lined the far wall, some so old the faces were unrecognizable, others defaced with crude tags or smeared lipstick. The air was heavy, thick with the scents of stale beer, sweat, and something metallic—blood, perhaps, or the lingering residue of cybernetic repairs from next door. At the center of it all were the stares.

Dozens of eyes swiveled toward the trio, not toward Kael, but to Mira and Reina, who seemed to command the room without effort. A man near the bar fumbled his glass, amber liquid sloshing onto his weathered hand. "Damn…" he muttered, his voice a low rasp that carried just far enough to be heard.

A waitress, her apron stained with grease, nudged her colleague with a sharp elbow. "You see them? Gothic thunderstorm and hot death herself just walked in."

Another voice, rough and slurred, cut through the haze from a nearby table. "Look at those gorgeous little legs. Bet they spread real nice…"

"The hell are they doing with a chump like him?" a wiry man with a cybernetic eye growled, his gaze lingering on Kael. "They need a real man."

"Careful," his companion whispered, nursing a cigarette. "He could be some Hero's kid or something. Don't mess with trouble you can't handle."

Kael blinked once, then again, his pulse steady despite the weight of the room's attention. He'd always known Mira and Reina were striking—Mira's cool elegance and Reina's chaotic edge were impossible to ignore—but he'd never truly seen them. Not like this. Not when his mind wasn't consumed with plans to save his people, chasing leads through Carthis's labyrinth, or dodging the relentless gazes of the people around them. For a fleeting moment, the bar's dim light and the crowd's murmurs stripped away his focus, and he saw them as the strangers did. He couldn't afford distraction, but the thought crept in unbidden: 'They are stunning. No doubt about it.'

Mira was a vision of controlled intensity. Her wavy hair cascaded from deep midnight at the roots to vibrant violet at the tips, catching the neon glow like a prism. Her lavender eyes were unreadable, sharp as cut glass, framed by long lashes that didn't soften their piercing clarity. A black crop top hugged her lithe frame, its sleek minimalism accentuating the subtle curve of her waist. A silver pendant rested just below her collarbone, glinting faintly, while a black choker encircled her neck, and a single earring dangled from her left ear, its metallic edge catching the light. Her black-painted nails tapped idly against her thigh, and her combat boots, scuffed but polished, grounded her presence with a quiet command. Every step she took was deliberate, neither inviting attention nor shying from it—a dangerous elegance that promised she could dismantle anyone who tested her.

Reina, by contrast, was chaos distilled into flesh and leather. Her long hair, dyed a split-tone of snowy white on one side and bubblegum pink on the other, spilled in wild tufts that framed her grinning face like a halo of rebellion. Her bloodred eyes glowed faintly under the bar's flickering lights, their intensity softened only by the mischievous curve of her lips. Her canines flashed like fangs when she smirked, a silent challenge to anyone who dared meet her gaze. A torn black leather jacket clung to her form, studded with chains, belts, and silver spikes that jingled faintly with her movements. A bloodstained patch, stitched crookedly onto her shoulder, bore the faded emblem of some long-dead gang. Her ripped fishnet stockings and heavy boots were as much armor as fashion, and every piercing along her ears—six on one side, four on the other—glinted like a dare. Her black-painted toenails peeked through open-toed boots, a small but defiant detail. Reina's energy was loud, her confidence louder, and she carried herself like a storm waiting to break.

Kael inhaled slowly, his breath steadying as he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. 'Focus, Kael.' They weren't here to draw eyes or start fights—not yet. They had a purpose, and Carthis was a means to an end.

The trio moved to a back booth, its cracked leather seats exhaling a faint puff of dust as Mira slid in first, her movements fluid and precise. Reina tossed herself down with a thud, sprawling across the seat with the careless ease of someone who didn't care about damaging the seats even further. Kael remained on edge, his posture rigid as he scanned the bar's occupants. The waitress approached cautiously, her notepad trembling slightly in her hands, her eyes darting between Mira's stare and Reina's toothy grin.

"Uh… Welcome to the Tap," she stammered, her voice barely audible over the music. "What can I get started for you folks? Drinks first, or…are ready to order now?"

"Anything's fine," Kael said, his tone clipped but not unkind. "We're not picky. Just make it quick, yeah?"

The waitress nodded, her relief palpable as she scurried off, dodging a table where a drunk patron was already slumping into his own spilled drink.

Kael leaned forward, elbows resting on the scarred wooden table, his voice dropping to a murmur. "We're not here to start anything. Not yet. First, we find someone worth talking to. Someone with pull—underground access to gear, routes, maybe even transport. We need that, and we need it fast. Our window's tight."

Mira gave a faint nod, her lavender eyes scanning the room without moving her head. "I can hear their conversations," she said softly, her voice like silk over steel. "Right now, most of them are fixated on what they'd like to do with Reina and me. Crude, but useless. If anyone's hiding something worth knowing, though, I'll catch it."

Reina stretched, her boots thudding against the side of the booth as she propped them up, chains jingling. "Or we could just *make* someone talk," she said, her grin sharp enough to cut. "Not like we're short on muscle."

Kael raised a brow, his lips twitching faintly. "Subtlety, Reina."

She laughed, a low, throaty sound that drew a few more glances. "I'm subtle. For about five seconds before I start going ham."

Mira's lips curved into a rare smirk, her head shaking slightly as she leaned back, one arm draped over the booth's edge.

Their food arrived soon after—greasy skewers of grilled meat, charred at the edges and dripping with questionable oil, alongside a bowl of something vaguely resembling rice, its grains clumped and discolored. The bitter tea came in chipped mugs, its aroma sharp enough to sting the nose. Mira and Kael ate with quiet efficiency, their movements precise, as if conserving energy for what lay ahead. Reina, however, attacked her plate like a starved animal, tearing into the skewers with a relish that bordered on performative. Her sharp canines glinted as she chewed, and she licked a smear of grease from her thumb with a theatrical flourish.

Kael used the moment to study the bar more closely. A few faces stood out in the dim light. A man in a hood near the corner, his drink untouched, his fingers tapping a rhythm that seemed too deliberate. A woman at a nearby table, pretending to clean a knife that was already spotless, her eyes flicking toward the trio every few seconds. A pair of teens near the exit, their hoodies oversized and their glances nervous, as if waiting for someone—or something—to burst through the door. This place wasn't dead. It was hiding something, and Kael could feel it like a pulse beneath the floorboards.

He tapped the table once, a subtle signal only Mira and Reina would recognize. "We establish connections tonight," he said, his voice low and steady. "Recruit who we can—people tired of scraping by, people who want to make a difference. Then we dig into the rumors."

Mira's expression darkened, her fingers tightening around her mug. "The kids?"

Kael nodded, his jaw tight. "They go missing, and no one talks about it. Not the police, not the Heroes. That's not a coincidence. Something's wrong here."

Reina leaned forward, her playful energy cooling into something sharper, colder. "You think it's tied to All for One?" she asked, her voice low, her red eyes narrowing. "You think he's slinking around here, snatching kids to groom into his little soldiers?"

"Could be," Kael murmured, his gaze drifting to the bounty posters on the wall. "What I know for sure though is that this place is rotting from the inside. We're going to find out why. And we're going to use it to our advantage. If we play this right, we might even end up running this city."

Outside, the night deepened, the neon signs flickering like the last gasps of a dying star. But within Carthis, in the smoky haze of The Ember Tap, the embers were just beginning to glow.