Silver Daemon: Okay, if NO ONE reviews this, I will be very angry.

Dari: Not good to anger her, for you anger me.

Skye: Too true.

Daemon Hart Inc. Presents:

Stellar Rayne

By Silver Daemon

Chapter 1: Prima Una

The night was a solid black. Black as the ink of any writer and twice over, due to the lack of stars in the large city. It was raining, like it always did in Prima Una, and the water-slicked streets were brimming with a foul concoction of rainwater, sewage spillover, and oil byproducts from the many cars. The air was heavy with the smog from the large factories at the center of the city and the trash in the slums were practically oozing with the parasites and scallywags normally found there. The eerie silence of the city’s “night” was broken by the sharp click of boots on the trash-littered, broken pavement. A teen girl, not more than seventeen, strode boldly down an alley, hardly noticing the gutter scum that gave her the once-over. She was dressed in a high collared, brown trench coat, black trousers, and a white t-shirt. Her hair was tucked into the collar of her coat and her belt, normally used to close the trench coat, was dangling limply on either side of her. A wide black headband crossed her forehead, threatening to slip over her left eye. Dark brown hair fell over a deep violet eye, constantly open although no one realized it. The other on the left was closed, which gave the girl an eerie sense of being as she walked through the alleys not only like she knew them, but like she owned them. The rain splattered over her face, plastering the hair to her cheek and neck and effectively soaking her thoroughly. The girl let out a small sigh, the air in front of her misting, before walking into a brightly lit tavern. The bartender looked up from where he was cleaning a glass with a gap-toothed smile.

“Ah! Ryder!” he called out, waving his rag. “Good to see you.”

“Hey,” the girl said, taking a seat at the counter, pushing her hair back and lowering her headband over her previously exposed eye. “My usual, doubled.” The bartender, known simply as Mac, scurried to complete her order.

“So, how was it?” he asked, his voice lowered so the other patrons wouldn’t hear. The girl shrugged.

“The same, I guess,” she grumbled, taking a long swig of her drink. “Didn’t even have to aim, the moron was so wide.” Mac chuckled, white head bobbing.

“So, did you get it?” he asked, his voice lowering.

“Yeah, I did,” the girl replied, her voice the same volume, but she lowered it after another sip. “And I got a gift for you.” She withdrew a thin gold chain with a teardrop ruby dangling from it from her pocket and slid it into Mac’s withered hands. The old man’s eyes glinted with happiness and gratitude.

“You’re too kind to old Mac,” he whispered. “You are much to kind to an old feller like me, Ryder.” The girl sighed.

“Mac, how many times do I have to say to you not to call me that?” she asked. “There could be spies, you know. I’m wanted, remember?” Mac blinked.

“Oh yeah!” he said quickly. “Sorry ‘bout that…Dani?” The girl sighed.

“It’s Dari. I’ll be in my room.”

Dari flopped onto her bed with a sigh. She had long past labeled this room as hers, although it was technically part of the inn that Mac ran above the tavern. It was always saved for her, whether she slept there or not. Mac considered her family, because she had no one else to turn to; no one to call family and nowhere to call home. Dari gazed at the ceiling, withdrawing a machine gun from under her trench coat. It had been banging against her leg, making her very uncomfortable. She was used to it, but, at the tavern, she liked to have a few moments of quiet and peace. The girl sighed, pushing herself up onto her elbows as she stared at the door.

“That was it,” she murmured to no one in particular. “Just one shot; didn’t take anything. Why has it gotten so easy?” There was a frantic knocking on her door.

“Ryder!” Mac barked. “Ryder! They’re here!” Dari sighed.

“S’open Mac. Who’s here?” Mac ran into the room, his face pale.

“The cops are here!” he exclaimed. Dari arched an eyebrow, withdrawing her knee-length sheet of hair from her coat.

“And…?” she asked slowly, lacing her tone with mild disinterest.

“Not just the police,” Mac continued feverishly. “But Special Ops and one of those Informer scum.” Dari’s head snapped up. The part about the Informer had gotten her attention. The Informers were what their name was: a group of gutter scum like everyone else, but they knew everything. Basically, a recon group and spy network for sale. She punched the bed post.

“Stupid!” she hissed. “How could I have been so careless!?” Dari slung her gun over her shoulder carelessly and flung the window open.

“I was never here,” she snarled. Mac nodded mutely as Dari leapt from the window into the alley. Behind her, she heard shouts of "there she is!" and "don't let her get away!" Gun shots missed the sprinting assassin by miles, grazing and chipping walls. Dari couldn’t think of any way that an Informer could’ve figured out where she sulked between jobs. Unless a normal patron to the bar had been a spy. Dari felt a growl rise in her throat as she sprinted down the alleys. She couldn’t believe that someone had been so bold, so stupid to rat her out. Surely they knew that she would kill them for less? Dari ground to a halt as she reached a street corner. She glanced behind her for a moment to see if anyone had followed her and then glanced up at the street sign. Dari found herself at the corner of Midnight Avenue and Crescent Hill. The girl blinked. She had run clear out of the slums and into the wealthier faction of the city. Dari sighed, running her fingers through her bangs.

“I cannot believe this,” she muttered, slinging her gun a little lower to ease her shoulder. “They ran me right out of the slums. Those little—“But whatever profane comment she was about to make didn’t come out. A girl with orange hair in pigtails flew up the streets towards Dari. She had dark green eyes that were brimming with fear.

“H-help!” she cried, reaching Dari and clinging to her sleeve. The girl bit her lip and her eyes flickered from Dari’s gun, to the girl’s face, and down the street. “You’re a mercenary aren’t you?” Dari shrugged.

“In my time.” The girl blinked a few times and Dari was faintly aware of footsteps clattering from the direction the girl had run from.

“Then I need a bodyguard,” the girl said firmly. “I can pay you!” Dari jerked her arm from the girl’s grasp as a few guards ran up the street towards them.

“I don’t have time for this,” she growled, jerking her gun up and confronting the men. The police came to a grinding halt.

“Alpha Unit!” one man barked into his radio. “I found the assassin and the runaway. Meet us at—“Dari’s gun sang and the man dropped to the ground. The rest of his unit stood still for a moment before flying into action. Dari shot at them precisely, but she was too close and the men pressed their advantage. Dari swiftly switched her gun for her short range weapon; a simple dagger. The small blade easily dispatched another officer, but it wasn’t fast enough to eliminate the newest threat of the last officer’s nightstick. Dari raised her arm to block the impending blow, but it never came. Instead, a brightly painted nunchaku intercepted the blow and sent the officer sprawling. Dari blinked and turned to face the runaway girl, who was trembling.

“Did I kill him?” she asked, her voice shaking. Dari tossed her dagger carelessly into the man’s stomach. He gave a small gasp before lying limp.

“No,” Dari said coldly. “I did. You simply defended an impending blow from the nightstick.” She frowned. “What are you doing anyway?” Dari carefully noted the girl’s clothing; a white belly t-shirt with a red heart and loose jeans. They weren’t normal clothing; they had been specifically tailored to look like they were street clothes. And she was wearing pendulous emerald earrings, which were very expensive. Dari’s eye narrowed dangerously. This brat was one of the rich aristocrats. The girl stood shaking.

“I ran away,” she said firmly. Dari sighed.

“Yes, I could see that,” she muttered, retrieving her dagger and raiding the officers for spare ammo. “Why are you running? Who are you running from?” The girl shook her head.

“I need a body guard,” she stammered. “That’s all you need to know.”

“Can I at least know your name?” Dari asked, reloading her gun. The girl nodded.

“I’m Skye,” she replied. Dari nodded.

“And how do you expect to pay me?” Dari pressed, crossing her arms. Everyone knew, whether from rumors or from the news, that Dari did not take jobs from aristocrats. Skye’s eyes flicked back down the street.

“I have my ways…” she said, trailing off. “I just need a body guard for my trip to Guildan.” Dari’s eyes narrowed once again.

“Why would an aristocratic brat like you need to go to Guildan?” she hissed. Skye blinked.

“You…” Dari nodded.

“It was a giveaway. You’re earrings are too expensive and your clothing was specially made to look like normal street clothes.” Skye sighed.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve said earlier about my heritage. But I’m not an aristocrat.” Dari snorted.

“So what are you?” Skye held herself up to her meager height.

“I am Princess Skyra of the Vista Continent,” she said proudly. Dari’s eyebrows knit together.

“So, please,” Skye continued, “escort me to Guildan. I can pay you in full now if you’d like.” Dari growled.

“I don’t take jobs from rich people,” she snarled, turning abruptly and stalking off towards the slums.

“Wait!” Skye shouted. “Please! I really need to get to Guildan and I can’t fight!” Dari pivoted.

“You can fight!” she shouted back. “Just swing those damn sticks around! That’s what they’re for!” Skye stamped her foot.

“If you don’t take me to Guildan, I call the Royal Guard down on you!” she hollered. Dari stared at her.

“Fatal mistake, princess,” she growled. “You’re obviously running away from the palace so the last people you’d want to call down on me would be the Guard. You’re out of excuses.” Skye froze.

“Damn,” she muttered. “I hoped that would work. It worked on the moron who brought me here.” Dari sighed.

“Do you not know who I am?” she asked. Skye shook her head.

“No.”

“I am Ryder,” Dari said threateningly. Skye blinked.

“Oh…crap…” she muttered. Dari smirked.

“But I suppose this assassin can hang up her sniper gun long enough to escort someone to the Port City. You intrigue me, Skye. I think I’ll help you.” Skye grinned. Dari held up a finger.

“But I’m not interested in your money,” Dari said. “My payment will be in information.”