Step City

The bright quiet of Purple District in the early afternoon was delicately interrupted by the hum of a scooter rounding the corner somewhere in its northwest neighborhood. Barbara squinted up at the sunshine through her helmet’s visor, noting its lower position, and hit the throttle. The scooter in question- obnoxiously magenta and perfectly tailored to the rider whose family would not have her use public transportation if it could be helped- buzzed a little in protest before obeying its master. Barbara barreled down the streets quite at ease with every turn, popping her bubblegum a couple times despite the wind whipping past her.

She rolled right up to her destination- Hide’s place. Today, she was a delivery girl for Mrs. Hart. Barbara was on-theme with a sporty lavender jumpsuit and pink ascot, channeling European race car driver. She kicked her stand, careful not to scuff her very white boots, and adjusted her long hair after shedding the helmet. From the back of the scooter, she hauled out the offending gift basket.

And it was offending, though Mrs. Hart likely had no idea her daughter had figured out that much; as far as she knew, she was tasking Barbara with unknowingly insulting the former FM boss. Barb gave the basket another once-over, sighing deeply at its terrible contents hidden under nice labeling. Her parents- and immediate social circle, really- were becoming tiresome in their obvious games, more likely to kick a stepper when they were down than to face any opposition with actual clout.

Still, she couldn’t deny she’d carved an easy little niche for herself after almost two decades of hard work and loyalty. It was her position that protected her from the ‘Halloween Unpleasantness’, as her parents referred to it. Used to be, she’d be happy to keep her hands clean, living to dance another day. Lately, she was feeling...the opposite.

Barbara hopped to the entrance of The Aria, indulging in a good look at the place. She popped her bubblegum again in approval, then quickly realized she should not be smacking gum for this. Looking around, and not finding a proper place to dispose, she gave a small shrug and stuck the wad right on the gift-wine’s cork. It was not going to matter, in the long run. The basket shifted a bit onto her hip as she reached for the call button, pressing it firmly to announce her presence.

Hide is in the middle of cleaning and doing a bit more unpacking (now having a lot more time on his hands) when the little call button jingle goes off. He’d received a text from Barbara earlier that morning, so he knew she would be on her way– and while he isn’t exactly the nervous type, he feels a sense of dread at the potential upcoming conversation.

He liked Barbara. Truly. Even if he didn’t admit it all the time (or to her face, ever). But she had a way of… well, she liked to speak her mind. And presently, he isn’t entirely sure what’s on her mind regarding his… situation.

He pushes the box he’d just emptied aside and out of the way, leaving his unpacking down to a final few remaining, and pulls his slightly-darker-than-usual hair down from the messy cleaning-mode bun he had it in as he walks toward the wall mounted screen by his front door. Barbara is waiting for him with a large gift basket (unexpected), looking put together as always. With a push of the button, he calls back down to her. “Hello darling– be down in a jiff! I’ll bring you up.”

When he greets her at the venue entrance, he’s in a casual blue and white striped button down, sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone. He’d popped on some rose colored sunglasses, looking much brighter than he felt.

“S’that for me?” he asks warily, eyeing the obvious wad of chewing gum on the wine cork. “You shouldn’t have.”

There’s a joking tone in his voice, but he doesn’t laugh as he motions her inside. The venue is beautiful, with floor to ceiling windows spanning multiple levels to welcome in the natural light and a gorgeous view of the ocean… but it’s also unfurnished and empty on the inside, and the sound of his footsteps on the hard floor always echoed and made his heart ache. Someday, he’d see it finished.

Barbara flashed her best camera-ready smile in the direction of the callbox’s lens to acknowledge she’d heard Hide. She let it drop after an appropriate amount of time and her attention drifted again to the front of the empty venue, remaining in contemplative silence until the man himself came to retrieve her.

She gave Hide a quick visual autopsy, noting every strained facial muscle, every bit of tension in his neck and shoulders. He looked the part of okay on the surface, but if anyone could pick up on a front, it was Barbara.

“You’re right, which is why I did not,” she answered as she glided past him into the foyer. Her tap plates made even more noise once inside. She spun around on her heel and held the basket up to eye level like she was presenting an award. “Dee-livery for Mr. Miyagawa, courtesy of one Jaid Hart! The wine topper was my idea, it’s likely the most palatable option of the entire spread.”

She hadn’t missed the hollow humor of his voice, so she lowered the gift and adopted a much less cheeky tone.

“There may or may not be a timed stink bomb somewhere in this mess, you’ll probably want to toss it all in an incinerator soon. You have one around?” She feigned searching with her eyes for the receptacle as an excuse to take in the impressive space.

“Unfortunately not,” Hide replies as he turns to face Barbara, letting the front door close and auto-lock behind them. “Bots haven’t built that part yet, see– Maybe a rooftop bonfire would do the trick. Light it up, shut all the windows and let the sea breeze carry it away.”

He accepts the basket from her and looks down at it in his arms with an amused sort of smile. “Thank you,” he says, turning to lead her back to the elevator through the foyer. He doesn’t particularly want to linger; the sprawling empty space makes him feel emotionally (mentally?) exposed somehow.

“All right?” he asks her as he takes them through the well-hidden entrance to his loft’s elevator, not expecting or waiting for a response. “Sorry you had to come all the way out here to give me a basket full of…” He looks down at the bundle of gifts again as they step into the elevator. “Stink bombs, acetone wine, and… dubious.. ‘chocolates.’”

The elevator starts to lift, and he clears his throat.

“But tell your mum I said thank you.”

“It’s a real shame more problems can’t be solved the same way,” Barbara singsonged as she transferred the basket to Hide, briefly picturing a few of the ‘problems’ in her life that she’d like to watch burn. Slowly.

Delivery now complete, she was eager to follow him up to his living space. So many of the higher-ups within the family were quick to wave her away after a transaction completed, but Hide rarely treated her as such. His willingness to cultivate personal connections with subordinates while he’d been a boss had been in equal parts appreciated, and fascinating.

She rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease, I was the one who volunteered for the job.” Once in the elevator, she cast her gaze down and began pulling her riding gloves off a finger at a time.

“If it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been some other yahoo too dumb to give you any fair warning. Found out what Mother was up to and I couldn’t let it happen her way. Lucky for you, I am very adept at catching information I shouldn’t be at all privy to. A wonderful survival skill, no?” She offered Hide a small smile and tucked her gloves into the back pocket of her jumpsuit.

“I’ll tell her you said thanks, to get the Hart’s off your back, but the bonfire can just be between us.” She could feel the elevator reaching its destination. “And a couple of sparkling waters, that can be between us too. You’re my last drop-off of the day, I haven’t had time to hit a Vendy and absolutely no one on my route has offered me a drink.”

“Unthinkable,” Hide replies, both laying on the mock-offense for effect and kind of actually being offended on her behalf. “A personal delivery, and nothing to offer thanks? Please. Well… you know you can always get some here, delivery or no. Just ring me first!”

As the elevator doors open again, they step out into the entrance of Hide’s home. Crisp, clean, and painted in various shades of gray with black accents, the two-level space feels tastefully modern with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city on one side and the ocean on the other. The second-level loft where he slept sticks out over the kitchen and partially over the living area, looking down onto it. He motions Barbara into the open concept living room with a grandiose sweep of his arm.

“I’ll take your gloves, if you want to leave them by the door,” he offers. “Let me just set this… gift… down in the kitchen and grab your water. Make yourself at home, please..! And mind the boxes I’ve left so you don’t trip– they’re mostly out of the way, I think.”

“Oh! Certainly…” She handed her gloves over, unable to avoid a curious look at Hide, at his very accommodating gesture.

Barbara was humming cheerily as soon as she was let loose in the loft. She did a small tour along the ocean-facing window before returning to the living room area. It was clear that she adored the open plan and abundance of natural light. While the Hart house was large and also spacious, it felt much more like an old bank with its sparse windows and heavy, over-stuffed furniture. Not one to actually ever lounge or get too comfy even in her own home, she chose an ottoman and leaned back on her hands, at least until she had to hold her drink.

As nice as this was, Hide’s kindness was setting off some alarms. To Barbara, no one was ever too sweet without wanting something in return. She decided to nudge at it.

“Taking my gloves, a ‘make yourself at home.’ It’s almost like you actually want me to stay a while. Are you in sore need of some company? I guess I can't blame you, since you---uhmm---have more free time on your hands.” She lifted a shoulder in a small apology at her almost-mention of his demotion.

In the process of grabbing Barbara her water, Hide stops with his hand around the drink and stares into the back of the fridge, closing his eyes slowly and taking a deep breath. He pulls out the water and closes the fridge unceremoniously before turning to face her.

“Is that why you made me your last stop? So you had the extra time to nose around about it?” He almost feels bad for his snippy response. Almost. He walks into the living room and holds the sparkling water out to her, unblinking. When she takes it, he falls heavily onto the couch opposite her with a sigh.

“I suppose you have more time on your hands as well, hm? Without me to be a bastard during your trainings at the arse-crack of dawn?” He grumbles as he continues, leaning his head back toward the high ceiling. “...I was going to talk to you about it anyway. I’m not your boss anymore, so… you can say whatever you like. What’ve they got you doing lately? Running for coffee? You’re too good for that nonsense.”

Barbara shifted and straightened on her seat at Hide’s retort, and the tiniest smirk tugged at her mouth. There was the attitude she was used to receiving from her mentor, no hopeless schmucks here. She took the water with a grateful scrunch of her nose but didn’t interrupt him.

In fact, there was a near-uncomfortable span of quiet after, while she studied him over on the couch. She considered her words carefully, and it showed.

“I miss…” another loaded pause, “…it. The training, I mean, of course. I was getting stronger and I could feel it. It’s just regular rehearsals and studio time now, it isn’t enough. I’ve been…practicing…with other dancers. Well, no, I’ve been practicing with other dancers. Y’know.” She took a long pull of her water, satisfied by the sharp bubbles. “Family thinks it best that I’m back on go-fer duty temporarily, while I ‘calm myself down.’”

She traced her nails idly against the drink’s glass, considering all Hide meant by ‘say whatever you like.’ “When I said I volunteered for the delivery, that was only half of it. I made Mother give it to me. There was fear in her eyes, maybe not entirely directed at me, but…our corner of Purple sure can talk, and you have a lot of younger steppers talking. Old Guard is rattled, and it's like you're even cooler now that you're out from under Don Nina's control."

She tapped a finger against her cheek and peered curiously at Hide. "So...good PR management, or something else?"

“Did I accidentally teach you my flattery techniques, too? Or is that instilled in every child coming from a wealthy family by default?” He smirks, opening his own water. “Mm. Whispers, yells, protests, rattling the Old Guard… all of those things are music to my ears. No one is truly ‘important’ in this society until they’ve got people talking.”

He shifts in his spot, sitting up straighter but still much more relaxed than he used to be in his trainee’s presence. For someone taking a lot of hits lately, he sure never lacked confidence, and her observations made it clear the confidence didn’t go unnoticed.

“I am my PR management now, B. And as they say in our circles, ‘the only bad press is no press.’”

He lowers his rose-colored glasses (how appropriate!) and looks at her over the top rim.

“But if I’ve got the Guard so rattled, how can you assure me your mum hasn’t left a wire in that awful gift basket to listen in while her daughter asks me about my scandalous secrets and nasty plots?”

“Oh, it’s natural all right, but I wouldn’t say all wealthy children are created equal,” she quipped, lifting her bottle in a ‘cheers’ motion as he cracked open his own.

After being so agreeable to everything Hide was saying, she was visibly jostled at his question. Her brows reached her bangs for a moment, then her entire expression shifted into something devilish.

“Mr. Miyagawa. Jaid Hart is the woman who used to wire my tea parties to make sure none of my imaginary guests exhibited ‘UG or RD sympathies.’ So first chance I got, I put myself in charge of the whole department.” She produced her phone out of the breast pocket of her jumpsuit, daintily waving it at Hide before she woke it up.

“I set up all of her channels, I know every type of device she’s aware of, and I know how she likes to hide them. All of which would be useless in this case, had I not bugged the crap out of her phone in the first place.” She glanced down at her screen, scrolling.

“Currently she has...6 channels of varying degrees of surveillance open. Mostly to gather petty gossip or catch someone in our immediate family. As for the channels she doesn’t know I have access to, none open right now, but we’d be alerted pretty quickly if one was. And you cannot honestly expect me to believe a 60-something would think of anything more complicated than hiding behind a simple proxy.” Barbara returned her attention to Hide as she slipped her device back into its place.

“What I make Mr. Spirit Fingers say at 6 years old in my own room is my business, and I suppose at one point in my life I decided that’s how it was going to stay.”

Hide listens as Barbara runs down her list of reasons the basket couldn’t possibly be bugged (with surprising honesty and detail), blinking. Should have expected as much. Rich kids are some of the sneakiest bastards you’ll ever meet, and Barbara was no exception. If anything, she was more terrifyingly good at snooping around and wiring things to go her way than anyone he’d ever known, including himself at that age. He lets the silence linger for a minute between them as he sits across from her with his head in one of his hands, carefully considering her body language and everything she’d just said.

“Hm. You’ve got your bases covered. So… it’s really that private right now, huh. Interesting.”

He sets his sparkling water down on a coaster on the coffee table between them, clears his throat, and stands up.

“In that case,” he says, looking directly at Barbara.

“F U C K–”

He jabs his index finger in her direction for emphasis.

“--N I N A.”

Two simple words, yet somehow, they took an enormous weight off his chest.

“Anything else?”

Had there been any change in the lighting, Barbara may have recoiled, and as it was she barely fought off the urge to scoot her ottoman back. Hide didn’t normally lash out at her unprovoked with anything but words, except this interaction had strayed very far from normal already.

She tamed her deer-in-the-headlights stare into a look of surprised concern when she sensed the outburst was over. Her drink was also coastered as she raised both hands in the universal placating motion, speaking quietly and maintaining eye contact.

“You’re upset, I get it. Saying things that feel good to say. I can grab my gloves and leave you to it.” She leaned forward in a motion to rise, but paused there. Her hands flexed nervously on top of her pant legs.

“Unless you’re not just saying things…” This was absolutely pushing her luck, a scary thing for her to be implying, and quite a stretch to boot, but she wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to speak as boldly as he dared to. “Tit for tat, okay? I already let you in on my little truth, and now you can do the same for me?”

Despite feeling infinitely better having announced his feelings toward Nina out loud, the feeling is immediately replaced with a strange sort of guilt as he watches the look on Barbara’s face go through a few different variations of shock and fear. He sits back down and runs a hand over his face before speaking again.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m sorry.” He makes direct eye contact with her, speaking sincerely. “However…”

He’s slow to move on, taking his time to make sure his words and thoughts were both arranged in the same order. It wasn’t the time to get ahead of himself or let emotions take over.

“I hardly ever ‘just say things.’ And this instance is no different. So again, in case there was any doubt regarding which side of the fence I’m on…

...fuck Nina.

She doesn’t even deserve to be referred to as Don any more. I’m not some disgruntled ex-employee– I’m someone who cares deeply about this district-- my home-- and who is willing to do whatever is necessary to keep it thriving. In my oh so humble opinion as a man recently designated a nobody by our leadership, it would serve us well if Nina were to… step down.” He lets a thick silence linger between them for a few moments. “Tit for tat, Barbie. I’ve got more, if you’ll tell me what exactly the 'younger' (he adds air quotes around the word) steppers have been talking about.”

Barbara allowed Hide a tiny nod, letting him know they were good. What hurt was that she shouldn’t have let her fear show at all. Weeks of mostly partner dancing, making others look amazing while using their Vibes, was turning her soft. It was no surprise she was taking out her frustrations on studio mates.

The well-oiled gears in her head turned and turned. Being an official member of the Funk Mafia had…not been going as planned, so far. The vision she’d had as a child of the bloodthirsty elite was more of a peckish bureaucracy as a young adult. She was always settling, constantly holding back. She was willing to play in Hide’s space. Barbara was back to reclining on the ottoman, and crossed her legs this time, bouncing the heel of her riding boot as she thought.

“The Do- Nina - isn’t where it’s at. We don’t appreciate the censorship that came shortly after she sacked you. Your songs and compositions have been banned from all the 16-and-overs, drinks named after you removed, basically any evidence that you were hot shit at the top, gone. A lot of Nina’s goons have been seen at the clubs on Lightning, throwing their weight around and making sure things aren’t getting too…punk. Needless to say, my Saturday nights are totally lame now.” She threw her head back and sighed dramatically before continuing.

“It’s completely transparent. Nina’s team says this is all to protect the new generation from the ‘chaotic element.’ They’re looking out for the ‘children.’ What she’s doing is hurting and confusing the daylights out of a lot of kids who were following in your footsteps.” The beat of silence she took after that could have been interpreted at sympathetic, but any gravity was lost as she vaulted forward to rest her elbows neatly on her knees, cupping her chin with both hands and grinning.

“But let’s get personal! Lots can be said about you. Let’s see…you and Miss Daily as some kind of item is quite the topic. Which, snooze. Have fun being made for each other. Where’s the challenge in that? The drama? Not my style at all, personally.” It clearly wasn’t what Hide was fishing for, but she had to get her two cents in.

“Far as things that matter, the incognito look in public is working. Very ‘Man in Black’ of you. Don’t think no one noticed you sneaking around, talking privately to Squares and Ditos alike. ‘Is Hide Miyagawa in a second-wave goth phase?’ they’re asking, ‘….an anarchy phase,’ even?”

Barb narrowed her eyes at Hide, looking like she was trying to figure it all out.

“But I’d say the juiciest talk about you is your increased closeness with Chroma. What’s got her welcoming the company of someone stripped of status? We know the woman can pull her resources, so what, exactly, does she want with you?” Still cautious of overstepping in this back-and-forth, she quickly added, “is what some people would be asking, if they were asking the right questions.”

Hide listens to Barbara’s response intently, taking in everything she says without interruption. At a few comments he found himself with raised brows– particularly the ones about his relationship status, which felt oddly out of place among everything else she was laying out on the table.

“First of all,” he starts with a chuckle, removing his shades and hanging them casually from the collar of his shirt. “My status as a no-longer-single man is news to me. Am I the last one to find out?”

He laughs a bit harder and waves his hand like he’s fanning away cigarette smoke, his other hand rested across his stomach. “....But. If I were to be pursuing a relationship with Jacqueline Daily, I can promise you it would be nowhere near as simple as you seem to think it would.”

His mind flashes back to a moment not that long ago, with a man’s sturdy hand around the knot of his tie, 'helping' him straighten it. Tightening it. Tightening it more… too much, and then leaning in to speak a low threat in his ear as others exited the room--

With a single blink, Hide snaps back to the present, looking at Barbara across the coffee table.

“Nice to know you think we’re made for each other, though. That aside, let’s press on.” He sits up straighter again, leaning to pick up his water and take a drink before continuing. “Second wave goth phase is a hilarious rumor to me. Maybe I should break out the punk pieces again, to lead my army of so-called rebels. …….Are you looking to be one of them?”

He gives her a stern, straight-faced stare, even more prominent than before without the sunglasses sitting on his freckled nose.

“You sound like someone impressed by Chroma, maybe even someone who holds a bit of respect for her. And you– or whoever is asking ’the right questions,’ as you put it– want to know why I’ve been seen around with her. It’s not a new development, we’ve been running in the same circles for years. But to be seen together more often outside of those circles…?” He shrugs coyly and tips the glass bottle in his hand toward her. “Let’s just say we’ve struck a deal of sorts. If you’d like to know what it is, you’ll need to strike a deal with me.”

Barbara’s phone was back out once Hide began, and her fingers traced wildly over the screen as she never dropped eye contact with him, nodding along.

“Thank Groove. One step closer to monogamy is not the direction I predicted for you, even if she is nice...okay, basically an angel. We all know you get around so don’t get your undies in a twist about it, Mr. M.”

It seemed like she was finished with whatever she’d been tapping away at on her phone, and she set it down beside her. “It’s already taken care of, a couple of texts to the right people and a well-placed status update. Rest assured, your rep as ‘extremely available’ is preserved. Talk is just talk, easily influenced.” For a moment she looked the textbook definition of smug bastard as she was back to lounging on her seat.

“I do look good in plaid and black,” she risked cracking wise about the 'rebel army', though it was obvious to her the joking around was coming to an end and she shut right up to avoid being misunderstood in her intentions.

“A deal,” Barbara echoed. Her mind instantly made the connection...what had he said before? It would serve them well if Nina stepped down. It wasn’t difficult to come to a conclusion, even if she didn’t know if she’d hit the right one. All at once she felt every bit the 19-year-old girl that she was, getting in over her head with players leagues above her. Hide was drawing a clear line with his words, it was tempting and exactly what she wanted to hear; she just hadn’t known it until that very moment.

“I like deals,” she squared her shoulders and fixed Hide with the most earnest look she could muster. “Name the terms, sir, and I might be at your disposal. Yours, and Chroma’s.”

Barbara’s change in demeanor was an extremely noticeable one. It was sort of satisfying, in its own way— that even without his position as an official mentor, or as a Boss, she still respected his status enough to know exactly how serious he was, and to give the same attentive seriousness in return. It was also clear that she’d come to some sort of end with the dots she’d been connecting behind those doe eyes this entire time, and as smart as she is… Hide is sure she’s not far off, if not right on the mark.

“We’ve made it this far, and I know a good deal about how you feel versus how you’re expected to present, Barbara Hart. Clearly, I’ve put my trust in you to this extent already, and I’d hope you’ve done the same for me.

So… on my end of the deal, me to you, I have an opportunity for you to become a directly important part of this faction’s — and this island’s — history, at 19 years old. I also have a guaranteed spot secured for you on a team of very powerful people, as well as the status, position, and the titles and compensation that come with it.

But I want to be very clear with you.”

He sets the sparkling water bottle back down on its coaster.

“You’re still Funk Mafia,” he says, his voice low. “You swore an oath when you were brought in.

If you choose to move forward from this point and do what I’d ask of you, it will be considered treason.”

Barbara was immensely grateful for all the stage training, because it would’ve been near impossible to keep it together. Even as Hide called on their mutual trust, she had to remind herself to breathe and round her posture. He was the only person alive who consistently tried to understand her beyond face value, and she’d cling to that familiarity while her thoughts dropped into place.

She reached too quickly for her water and it absolutely did not shake as she downed the rest of it. She kept the bottle gripped tightly in her hands to occupy them.

“I know. I know what it means. And as your former assistant and student, and current follower, my answer would be yes. A thousand times over. But there’s something. Else.” She was wringing the neck of the bottle at this point.

“Chroma isn’t in the habit of taking enemies alive, when conditions allow- if that victory garden’s just a rumor too then it’s the best one I’ve heard. Either way, I get the distinct impression that Nina’s fall will be permanent. Good. But I’ve got my own Nina, much closer to home.” She took another breath and indulged in a long blink. Her legs had already uncrossed and her body instinctively tried to draw into itself, but she didn’t let it.

“Before I’d agree to anything, I want a promise that my parents will be taken care of. I don’t mean a nice retirement. All the status and power you’re offering means diddly squat for me unless both Jaid and Jamie Hart are one hundred percent, irrevocably dead at the end of all this.

If you can’t promise that, the respect and admiration I hold for you will keep me mum anyways and I won’t put up any resistance when it goes down. If you can…then you've got me, for whatever it is you need.”