A low hum at first, bass vibrating faintly beneath their feet, then strings, then something electronic layered over it. The deeper they stepped into the gala, the more it wrapped around them, like the plane itself was alive and breathing with it.
Shirley and Tucker moved forward hesitantly.
Not because they were scared …but because there was too much to look at.
Gold-lined walkways stretched out in multiple directions, splitting into upper levels and descending staircases. Transparent elevators slid up and down through the center of the structure, carrying laughing guests between floors. Lights shimmered overhead like artificial stars, shifting colors every few seconds, gold to violet, violet to deep crimson.
Everywhere they looked, there were people.
Men in suits that looked too expensive to exist casually leaned against glass railings, watching the crowd below with quiet, calculating expressions. Women in shimmering dresses walked in pairs, their heels clicking softly against the polished floors, their eyes scanning their screens.
Performers danced on elevated platforms, their movements smooth and hypnotic, drawing crowds that didn't cheer… just watched.
The sound of footsteps slipped in between the music.
A server appeared beside them, silent and precise, balancing a polished tray of drinks like it weighed nothing. Without a word, she lowered it to their level.
"A drink?" she asked softly.
There wasn't any pressure in her voice.
But somehow, it still felt like there was.
Shirley and Tucker glanced at each other for half a second, then, almost instinctively, each reached out and took one.
The glasses were cold.
Inside, a golden liquid shimmered under the lights, tiny bubbles rising lazily to the surface. A thin slice of lime rested neatly on the rim, which itself was dusted with fine gold flecks that sparkled every time they moved.
Before either of them could say anything, the server had already stepped away, drifting back into the crowd like she had never been there at all.
"…Well that was fast," Tucker muttered.
Shirley didn't answer. He was still looking at the drink.
Then he shrugged slightly.
They kept walking.
10:49 PM – Ascension Gala, First Floor: Etertainment District.
The deeper they went, the more the space opened up.
More light. More people. More noise, but not loud. Never loud. Just… full.
Eventually, they passed one of several bars lining the first floor. This one, strangely, was empty.
Just clean stools and polished glass.
They both slowed.
Then, without saying anything, sat down.
Their drinks touched the counter almost silently.
Behind the bar, a man stood wiping down a glass with slow, practiced motions. His head was tilted slightly downward, eyes fixed on the phone in his other hand as he scrolled without urgency.
Like nothing here required it.
Tucker spun once in his chair, lazily turning in a full circle as he took everything in again.
"…This place," he said, stopping himself with a light tap of his foot against the floor, "is lively."
Shirley rested his elbow on the counter, lightly tapping the side of his glass with his fingers.
"That's an understatement."
Tucker let out a small scoff.
"Yeah. No kidding."
He lifted his drink slightly, eyeing it.
"…Cheers?"
Shirley glanced at him, then at the glass again.
A small smile tugged at his face.
"…No idea what this is," he said, raising it anyway, "but sure."
Their glasses clinked softly.
They both took a sip.
And instantly, regret.
Their expressions collapsed at the exact same time.
Their cheeks puffed, their eyes slowly narrowed. Bodies froze mid-motion.
The taste hit hard, sharp, it was bitter, and way stronger than either of them expected.
They turned slowly toward each other.
Same reaction.
Same silent panic.
Without a word, both of them started to lift their glasses again, ready to spit it right back out,
"Anything I can help you with today?"
The bartender was suddenly there.
Right in front of them, still not looking at them, he still stared down at his phone.
Like he hadn't just appeared out of nowhere.
Shirley and Tucker froze.
Then, very slowly…
they both shook their heads.
"…No," Tucker managed.
The bartender gave a small, absent nod.
His eyes flicked up for just a second.
Studying them.
Then back to his phone.
And just like that, he walked away.
There was a pause.
Then, PFFFT—!
Both of them spat at the exact same time.
Not back into their glasses.
Directly onto the counter.
"—BLEGH!"
"BITTER!"
They gagged, coughing slightly, wiping their mouths with the backs of their hands.
Tucker slammed his glass down.
"What IS that?!"
Shirley shook his head, still recovering.
"I don't know, but I'm never drinking it again."
They both stared at the glasses for a second longer.
Then slowly… pushed them away.
10:52 PM — Ascension Gala, First Floor: Entertainment District
"That your first drink?"
The voice cut clean through the music.
Not loud, but sharp. Direct. The kind of voice that didn't ask questions unless it expected answers.
Shirley and Tucker turned at the same time.
She was already there.
Leaning slightly against the bar like she had always been part of it.
Black hair fell down to her upper back, straight and heavy, with uneven bangs framing her face. Her eyes, dark hazel, didn't just look at them… they locked onto them.
She wore a black crop top, low-waisted black jeans, and a silver, spiked belt that caught the light every time she shifted. Just above the waistline, a large diamond tattoo peeked out against her skin up to her slim belly. Around her neck sat a dark leather choker lined with metal spikes.
Everything about her felt deliberate.
Sharp, like she had edges.
"…So?" she said, tilting her glass slightly. "You gonna keep staring, or answer me?"
Shirley didn't respond.
Tucker didn't either.
For a second, both of them just… stared.
Then Tucker blinked, shook himself out of it, and leaned slightly past Shirley, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"Yeah, uh… yeah, it was," he admitted. "First drink."
He hesitated.
"…Sorry, who are you?"
She didn't answer.
Didn't even react.
Her gaze lingered on them for one more second, like she was deciding something, then she turned her head away and lifted her glass.
Took another sip.
No reaction.
Like it didn't even taste bitter to her.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
Her tone didn't change.
Tucker hesitated.
"…We were invited."
Then silence filled.
The music filled the space between them again, low and steady.
She didn't move.
Didn't look at them.
Then she said,
"You shouldn't have come here."
She set her glass down on the counter.
Untouched beyond that one sip.
Then she stood.
Tucker turned in his seat slightly, watching her go, his brows furrowed.
"…Okay," he muttered under his breath. "What was that?"
Shirley didn't answer right away.
His eyes followed her too.
The way people subtly shifted as she passed.
Not moving out of fear, not exactly.
But… making space.
"…I don't know," Shirley said quietly.
His gaze narrowed slightly.
"…but she's not normal."
Tucker let out a small breath, still staring.
"…You felt that too, right?"
Shirley nodded once.
Even without any tangible Presence…there was something about her.
10:56 PM — Ascension Gala, First Floor: Entertainment District
A soft chime echoed through the plane.
Not loud.
Just enough to cut through the music.
The lights dimmed slightly, just a shade, before stabilizing again.
Then, the same smooth, artificial female voice from earlier spoke overhead.
"Dear guests, we will now be departing. Please make your way to the nearest seating area and ensure you are secured."
There was no panic, just movement.
Around them, people began to shift.
Some sighed in annoyance. Others casually finished their drinks. A few didn't react at all, already seated, already prepared.
Hidden panels along the walls slid open, revealing sleek rows of seating built into the structure of the plane. Assistants and servers moved efficiently, guiding guests with polite gestures and quiet words.
Seatbelts clicked.
Chairs adjusted.
Glasses were set aside.
Tucker looked around, blinking.
"…Wait, are we actually doing this right now?"
Shirley glanced toward the ceiling for a brief second, then back at the room.
"…Looks like it."
A pair of attendants walked past them, pausing briefly near their section.
One of them glanced in their direction giving a quick glance down to check if they wore their seatbelts.
Just for a moment.
Then, kept walking.
Tucker frowned.
"…Uh… are we supposed to—"
The plane gave a low, powerful hum beneath their feet.
Not violent.
But strong enough to feel.
Shirley steadied his glass slightly as the vibration passed through the bar.
"…Guess not," he said.
Around them, the majority of the guests were now seated.
But not all.
A few still stood.
A few still walked.
A few, like them, remained exactly where they were.
The hum deepened.
Slowly building.
Then, a subtle shift.
Weight pulling slightly downward before easing again.
Tucker's eyes widened just a little.
"…Oh."
Through the massive glass panels lining parts of the structure, distant lights began to move.
The ground shrunk.
"…We're actually in the air," Tucker muttered.
Shirley didn't respond.
His eyes were focused elsewhere.
The voice returned, calm as ever.
"Thank you for your cooperation. Please enjoy your evening."
And just like that, the music swelled back up.
The lights brightened.
The gala continued.
Like nothing had happened.
"Okay," Shirley said, lowering his voice slightly as his eyes flicked around the room, "we can't forget what we came here for."
Tucker, still half-shocked from feeling the takeoff, let out a small breath and nodded.
"…Yeah."
Shirley raised a hand, signaling one of the passing servers. She appeared almost instantly.
"A piece of paper," he said.
She nodded once.
Within seconds, it was in his hands.
Tucker blinked.
"…Okay, that's kinda creepy."
Shirley didn't respond. He leaned over the counter slightly and grabbed a pen, quickly writing across the top in bold, clean letters:
"GAMEPLAN"
11:00 PM — Ascension Gala, First Floor: Entertainment District
Tucker leaned in, then immediately leaned back.
"…You know you could just text this, right?" he said, groaning. "This is like… extra work. Reading is time-consuming."
Shirley chuckled softly without looking up.
"You learned how to speak, but somehow you're still the same."
He paused for a second, tapping the pen against the paper.
"…Actually, speaking of that, we do need to figure that out too."
Tucker pointed at him.
"HEY—"
Shirley held up a finger.
"Later."
He turned the paper slightly so both of them could see.
"Right now, this is what matters."
His tone shifted.
"These are our objectives."
He began writing, speaking as he went.
"One."
Find out what the Seven Kingdoms are… and where they are.
Tucker's expression tightened slightly.
"…Yeah. That's a big one."
"Two."
Figure out the big names on this plane.
Shirley glanced briefly toward the crowd, toward the balconies, the watchers, the ones who weren't just here to enjoy anything.
"People who matter," he added quietly.
"Three."
He paused slightly before writing it.
What's on the third floor?
Tucker raised an eyebrow.
"…You think something's up there?"
Shirley didn't look at him.
"I think the higher you go, the worse it gets."
"Four."
What do the Seven Kingdoms not want people to know?
This time, neither of them spoke.
The question just… sat there.
Then Shirley smirked slightly as he wrote the last one.
"Five… optional."
Tucker leaned in.
What the hell is that bitter drink.
Tucker stared at the paper for a second.
Then nodded.
"…Yeah, that one's important."
Shirley snorted quietly and set the pen down.
He lifted the paper slightly, scanning over everything they'd written.
For a moment, the noise of the gala faded into the background.
"…Alright," Shirley said, folding the paper once and tucking it into his blazer.
His eyes sharpened slightly.
"Now let's split up."
Tucker cracked his knuckles lightly, put a hand on his cane, glancing back out into the crowd
"…You realize this is a terrible idea, right?"
Shirley smiled faintly.
"Obviously."
Tucker grinned.
"…Good."
Then he pushed himself off the bar.
"Let's go get some answers."
They stepped back into the current of the gala.
Nothing had changed.
Lights still shimmered across gold surfaces. Music still pulsed through the floor. Laughter, quiet conversations, the clink of glass, it all carried on like the plane hadn't just lifted into the sky.
Shirley and Tucker exchanged a glance.
Then a nod.
They split.
Tucker drifting left, disappearing into the movement of the crowd,
Shirley veering right.
Then for a moment, everything felt sharper.
Then, something caught his eye.
Far across the floor. Past the bars, past the shifting lights, past people moving in slow endless blurred patterns.
Behind one of the counters, a bartender, dragged something, heavy.
Metal.
Shirley's pupils sharpened slightly.
The object scraped faintly against the polished floor before being lifted just out of sight behind the bar. It looked out of place, too industrial, too plain compared to everything else.
For a split second,
He thought he saw a marking on it.
Then the bartender's hand moved quickly across it, and whatever it was… was gone.
No one reacted.
No one noticed.
The bartender straightened, adjusted his sleeves, and returned to serving drinks like nothing had happened.
Shirley slowed.
Just slightly.
His eyes narrowed.
"…Did I see that right?"
The thought lingered for a second.
Then the music swelled again.
Voices filled the space.
The moment slipped.
He exhaled quietly, shaking his head once.
"…Whatever."
"Answers first." He said to himself.
And with that, he kept walking.