Flames in the Alley
- Kj Sapp
- Jan 27
- 9 min read
Cyra paced back and forth in the cramped room, her frustration barely contained. Fire flickered at her fingertips, her emotions spilling over into her powers. She clenched her fists, extinguishing the flames, only for them to reignite a second later.
“It’s time to test them out,” she said aloud, her voice steady but charged with determination. Her eyes burned with the same fire that danced along her hands. “It might be dangerous, but I’m restless and I have to escape this place. This power is my way out.”
Behind her, leaning against the doorframe, was Marcus. He frowned, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His usual calm was nowhere to be found, replaced by an edge of anxiety that matched her intensity.
“You’re not the only one who has powers, you know that,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “What if you run into someone stronger than you? Someone with more fighting experience? Someone who isn’t just… testing their powers out like you are.”
Cyra paused, turning to face him, a smirk tugging at her lips. The flames at her fingertips dimmed as she crossed her arms, her confidence unshaken.
“Do you really think that’s possible in a city like Dionysus?” she challenged. “Anyone with real power is long gone, recruited for something bigger than hanging around here. Which brings us right back to the problem.” She took a step closer to him, her fiery energy almost palpable. “I need to test them out. But where? And on who?”
Marcus sighed, shaking his head. He knew better than to argue with her when she was like this. Cyra had always been headstrong, but now, with her newfound abilities, she was unstoppable—or so she thought.
“If you’re hellbent on looking for a fight in this city,” he said, his tone resigned, “you know where you can find one. Or start one.”
Her eyes gleamed, her smirk widening as the flames flared up once more.
“That’s what I thought.”
The City of Dionysus
Although humanity mutated after the Convergence, our natural urges remained intact. Over time, people began finding creative ways to use their powers outside the confines of the newly established global workforce. Not everyone was interested in clashing for sport or glory. Some preferred to use their abilities for entertainment, indulgence, or pleasure. That’s how the City of Dionysus came to be—a haven for those types.
I was 19 when the Convergence happened, just finishing my freshman year of college. I played volleyball back then, and while I didn’t learn much academically that year, I picked up a few things about life. One lesson stuck: some people just can’t resist their urges. And if I’m lucky tonight, they’re marked.
The city stretches endlessly before me, its skyscrapers towering like silent gods. The bustling shops and restaurants press in, creating a maze of bright lights and vivid signs. Dionysus is a beautifully dangerous place, especially at night. The streets are pristine—no broken lights, no potholes, no signs of neglect. It’s clear that someone’s ability is behind the upkeep.
And for that reason slums are almost non-existent now, replaced by thriving neighborhoods that cater to all kinds of desires. Here in Dionysus, the streets are alive with activity. As I move deeper into the city, the vibrant storefronts of restaurants transform into pulsing bars, and the shops morph into brothels. Crowds linger outside, some eager to get in, others stumbling out with less clothes than they had when they walked in.
But this isn’t what I’m looking for. None of these people want to clash. These are pleasure-seekers, not fighters. The ones I’m after are even further in, deeper into the heart of Dionysus. I keep moving. I won’t go back to Marcus empty-handed.
The further I walk, the narrower the streets become. The glossy veneer of the city gives way to something grittier, a part of town not meant for tourists. My suspicions are confirmed when I catch sight of two men cornering another, hustling him to pay for something. This is more like it.
The Alley & The Trap
I linger in the shadows, and sharpen my eyes on the scene unfolding in the dim alley. The air is thick with tension, I can feel the heat building within me, the mark of her goddess stirring to life as she watched.
"The lady said you didn't pay!" one of the goons barked, his thick arms crossed over his chest.
The man in the suit, calm as the eye of a storm, shrugged with a faint smile. "Because she was boring. Not my type. All I had was a water."
The other goon—Kristoff, by the sound of it—stepped forward, his voice sharp with indignation. "Water isn't free in this place, and neither is the time you wasted in our establishment."
"Your establishment?" The Suit's eyebrow arched, his tone tinged with mockery. "You guys look like you're just the hired muscle."
Kristoff chuckled darkly and turned to his brother. "Just hired muscle, huh? You hear that, Gregoff?"
Gregoff's lips twisted into a predatory grin. "A lot of talk coming from a suit. You must feel real confident you'll be getting out of here in one piece, don't you?"
I smirk to myself, my hearts racing as I crouch low in my hiding spot. This guy's going to get himself hurt. This is perfect. I need to see if either of these goons are marked. Stepping in too soon might ruin my chance. But something’s off —the Suit's tone. The way he carried himself. It was like he was looking for a fight too.
"You're smart."
Cyra’s heart stopped for a beat. Huh. Did he hear me?
"I heard you," he said, tilting his head ever so slightly toward her hiding spot. "And I want to talk to you. You can stop hiding now."
Her stomach churned. He can hear my thoughts? And he knows I'm here? She swallowed hard, adrenaline surging. Is this a trap for me?
"You catch on quickly. Good," the Suit continued, his voice steady. "I knew she was smart, guys. I can read minds and hear thoughts. Now come out and speak to us. It's pointless to hide."
Her instincts screamed at her to stop overthinking, to act. She'd heard it enough times as an athlete: don't think—move. Trust your body.
She launched from the shadows, her target clear. The Suit was the strongest, no doubt, and if his power was only reading minds, she could take him out fast. She closed the gap in an instant, throwing a sharp right hook aimed at his jaw.
But he was faster.
With calculated precision, he misdirected her punch into Gregoff, who staggered back, the wind knocked out of him.
"That was my only chance to catch him off guard," she muttered under her breath, already rethinking her approach.
"Yes, it was." The Suit's faint smile sent chills down her spine. "That was a strong punch. Stronger than just a Demi, for sure. You're marked, aren't you? Who is it?"
"Who is what?" she shot back, circling him warily.
"The god—or goddess—within you. Whose strength do you possess?"
She stiffened. "How would I know? I never read Percy Jackson."
"So they haven't spoken to you yet?" His surprise was evident, almost pitying. "Not even in your dreams?"
Her brow furrowed. "The gods… talking to us? That's rich. No one said the gods speak to us."
"So you mean to tell me," he said, stepping forward, his tone laced with disbelief, "that you traveled into the city, crept all the way down to this alley, looking for a fight—and you haven't even made contact with your god? You're either extremely confident in whatever powers you've got or naive enough to think you'd win any fight you found yourself in. Probably both."
She clenched her fists, heat flickering at her fingertips. "I didn't come here for a mythology lesson or to be talked down to. I came for a fight. At first, it seemed like I'd only need to take down one idiot. Then two. But now it looks like it's a three-on-one."
The Suit chuckled softly. "Oh, don't worry. Fighting like this is beneath me. And honestly, it's beneath them too." He gestured toward Gregoff and Kristoff. "But I'd like to see more of your abilities. I'll step back and let them earn their pay tonight. Show me what you've got, and maybe I'll tell you who it is that gave you power. I may have an idea already."
Before she could respond, Gregoff let out a growl, pushing himself to his feet. His expression was murderous, but Cyra barely noticed. Her mind was already focused on the fight ahead, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
No holding back this time, she thought, a flicker of fire sparking at her fingertips. This should be fun.
The Fight & The Offer
The faint glow of fire danced at Cyra's fingertips as she eyed the two figures in front of her. She tilted her head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Two Demis? Didn’t realize I rated this kind of attention.”
Gregoff’s voice was low and steady, his demeanor more restrained but no less dangerous. “Walk away now. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
The smirk widened as Cyra crossed her arms. “That’s funny. Neither do you.”
Kristoff moved first, a blur of speed as he charged toward her. Cyra barely flinched, sidestepping his wild swing and driving her palm into his ribs. Heat flared as the strike connected, the burst of fire enough to singe his jacket and scorch his skin. He staggered back with a grunt, clutching his side.
“Firestarter. Great,” he growled through gritted teeth.
“Aw, did I ruin your shirt?” Cyra’s voice was mockingly sweet, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let me guess—you’re more of an ice guy.”
Kristoff lunged again, swinging low this time, but Cyra was ready. She leapt into the air, twisting gracefully to land behind him. Her foot swept out, knocking his legs from under him before he could regain his balance.
Gregoff, who had been watching silently, finally stepped forward. His sharp fingernails clicked as he flexed his hands. “Enough playing. Let’s finish this.”
He was on her in an instant, moving with calculated precision. He feinted left, his real attack coming from the right, but Cyra didn’t fall for it. She ducked, letting his strike sail harmlessly over her head.
“That was cute,” she quipped, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Try again?”
Gregoff snarled and pivoted, his next attack aimed squarely at her head. She blocked it with both arms, the force of the blow rattling her bones. The heat within her surged instinctively, flames erupting between them and forcing him to retreat. He stumbled back, his arm singed but still functional.
Kristoff was back on his feet, his expression a mix of fury and determination. The two Demis moved in unison now, their attacks coming in a coordinated flurry. Cyra stayed light on her feet, weaving between their strikes with a dancer’s grace and a volleyball players agility. When Gregoff overextended, she seized the opportunity, grabbing his arm and using his momentum to hurl him into Kristoff. The two collided with a heavy thud, collapsing to the ground in a heap.
Panting, Cyra let the flames at her fingertips burn brighter, casting a warm glow across the dimly lit warehouse. “That’s it? I thought you guys were supposed to be special.”
Kristoff scrambled to his feet, rage twisting his features. “You’re dead.”
“Not today.” Her voice was steady, confident. She ignited the air between them in a controlled explosion, the heat forcing both men to retreat. The crates and barrels around them crackled as the flames licked at their surfaces, the warehouse bathed in an orange glow.
“Enough.” His voice was calm, cutting through the chaos like a blade. It carried an undeniable authority, and both Kristoff and Gregoff froze, their eyes snapping to the man in the suit as he stepped forward, his tailored suit still pristine despite the heat and ash swirling around them.
Kristoff opened his mouth to protest. “She—”
“You lost,” the man interrupted sharply, his tone brooking no argument. “Stand down. No reason to let her burn this place down because of it.”
The two Demis exchanged a look before backing away, their reluctance evident but unchallenged.
Cyra turned to face him as well, her eyes narrowing. “So who are you really supposed to be?”
He smirked faintly, his gaze appraising. “I’m the one who decides whether you’re worth more than alley fights and petty squabbles.”
Her arms crossed over her chest, the flames at her fingertips dimming but not extinguishing. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve been marked by a very powerful goddess,” he said, his tone stern. “And you’re squandering it playing games. But you’ve got potential. You’re clever, resourceful—and the power within you is raw, untapped.”
He stepped closer, his presence heavy with authority. “I work for the Global Defense Force. We don’t just keep the peace—we shape it. If you want to learn what your goddess has planned for you—and what you’re truly capable of—I can help. Because there’s a real fight coming, a fight you should actually be preparing for”
Her skepticism was evident in the arch of her brow. “And if I say no?”
“Then you’ll be on your own, stumbling in the dark, looking for fights in alleyways” he replied smoothly. “But I don’t think you’re the type to say no. You want more than this. I can see the fire in your eyes, literally.”
He was right, and she hated it. The questions burned in her mind: Who was the goddess? Why had she been chosen? What was expected of her? If this man had answers… maybe she was willing to play along.
“Fine,” she said at last, her tone wary. “I’m in. But if this is some kind of trap—”
“You’ll burn me alive or something right?” he finished for her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Understood.”
He turned, gesturing for her to follow. “Let’s go grab a bite, it just might be your last meal in Dionysus for a while.”
For a moment, she hesitated, her eyes darting to the two Demis still lingering in the shadows. With a sharp exhale, she flicked her wrist, extinguishing the flames at her fingertips. “Lead the way” she said as she took her first steps into a life she couldn’t turn back from.
Comments