April 21, 2021. 00:18. Richmond. 9 days left till Italy.
"Cheers!" All the nomads, Tetra included, clanked their canteens together, their laughter cutting through the quiet night.
The southern beaches of Richmond were near pitch black save for the pale blue moonlight skimming across the tide. The boat—low-profile and solar-hybrid—rocked gently at anchor, cargo hold sealed after Tetra had finished the drop-off. The water lapped softly at the sand, calm and undisturbed this late.
No city noise.
A portable campfire flickered low at the centre of the group, built from scavenged driftwood and fed with just enough scrap to keep it alive. It cast long, dancing shadows against the sand and the surrounding rocks. A folding grill sizzled beside it, smoking with skewers of sausage and charred peppers. The scent—smoky, sweet, a bit wild—lingered in the cool air.
Tetra was in his element. Seated shoulder-to-shoulder with a small group of his nomad brethren—family not by blood, but by culture—he sat with one leg tucked under the other, laughing heartily at something one of the elders had said in the Thelas tongue. His face was unguarded, completely at ease: no tension, no confusion, no tightness in his jaw.
Just joy.
They passed around a dented flask of something strong-smelling—moonshine or worse—as stories and shit-talk flew. Tetra had spent enough time around them to know better than to question the mystery drink, and just let it go down the hatch.
It was great to be back with his people.
Unlike the chaotic sprawl of the city, the Thelas nomads carried a look that was both distinct and unified.
They seemed carved from both sea and salt—sun-bronzed skin, wind-swept hair, and inked bodies marked with coastal symbols: anchors, sharks, and crashing waves.
Like Tetra, they preferred clothing built for purpose. Clothes easy to swim in, climb with, or shrug off under the sun. While their clothing gave them freedom of movement, their patches, beads, and braided threads carried bits of memory: old tools, family keepsakes, charms from distant ports.
Their gear told stories: woven belts, charm-laced braids, reinforced boots, and tool harnesses made from salvaged rigging. Compared to the polished—or sometimes chaotic—ever-changing trends of the modern world, the Thelas style felt lived-in. It was grounded on personal history, not fashion cycles.
Even in rest, they carried a quiet strength. There wasn't a need for flash or posturing. What they had was the kind of pride that didn't need an audience.
It was the Thelas mentality.
Mister kept to the edge of the firelight, posted by a beached lifeboat and nursing a sealed drink pouch. His coat rustled with the breeze. He didn't say much, but he watched everything, nodding now and then to a few greetings.
The nomads didn't push him. They could tell—he wasn't rude. Just different.
Artemis leaned back against a washed-up buoy, legs stretched out, the heat of the fire warming her boots.
The night sky was clear. And it was beautiful.
A thick field of stars spanned the horizon, cold and unbothered by whatever was happening in the city.
One of the nomads leaned towards Artemis, offering grilled flatbread. "Want some?" He smiled.
"Yeah. Sure." She took it with a nod—quiet but appreciative. Tetra caught her giving it a curious sniff before biting in. From the look on her face, it was better than expected.
"You're quieter than I thought," one of Tetra's aunts teased, nudging Artemis lightly with her shoulder. "Not like it's a bad thing, though."
Artemis smiled faintly. "Or I'm just tired."
The woman laughed. "Fair enough."
Tetra made his way over, plate stacked high—a dented metal mess kit patched with welding marks and old initials etched along the rim—cheeks flushed with warmth from the fire and the comfort of family. He dropped down beside Artemis, nudging her with his elbow as he sat.
"Enjoying the food so far?"
She blinked, staring at him and then back at her food. "Yeah. So… thanks."
"More where that came from." He handed her a skewer, grinning. The firelight cast faint shadows along his jaw. "Thanks again for doing this, by the way. Really appreciate it."
Artemis shrugged, still chewing. "Well, it's like we got anything better to do tonight."
"That's true." Tetra chuckled. "Plus, I owe you a favour now."
Tetra's uncle—broad-shouldered, with grey salt-crusted dreads and a manta ray tattoo across his neck—grinned as he passed around more grilled flatbread. "So," he said, elbowing Tetra, "this one really went and made friends in Vancouver, huh?"
"Proper ones," added one of his cousins, a wiry teen with a shark-tooth necklace. "Not just hookups or job contacts?"
"Hey! Relax," Tetra said, chewing, "they're decent people."
"I'm sitting right here, you know." Artemis raised an eyebrow, her mouth curling slightly.
That got a laugh from the group.
"But seriously, what's it like?" one of them asked. "City life. Vancouver and all that. We rarely stay in for long, in fact..." They gestured to Tetra. "He's the one who's been in the city the longest in recent history."
Mister answered first, his tone flat but casual. "It's unstable, to say the least. It can be either great or dangerous, depending on who you ask. The fact that the corporations are constantly competing only adds to North America's existing problems. Still, you'll find work—if you know how to play your cards."
A few nods went around.
Artemis paused a little longer before chiming in. "It's... fine, I guess. It feels like something's always going on these days, especially with the economy and housing. Still, there's almost always something to sink your money into—for better or worse." She chuckled. "I'm definitely a guilty consumer."
One of the women's eyes dragged across Artemis' gear, eyebrow arched. "Speaking of consumption… damn, I pegged you as a pro, but this? This is next-level." She thumbed the fabric woven between the kevlar mesh, fingers brushing the micro-threads. "This kind of weave doesn't come cheap. How many eddies did it cost?"
Artemis nodded. "Yeah, a fair bit. I had to get it custom-sized."
That earned another round of nods.
"Still…" the woman said, eyes narrowing with something like approval. "You can tell when someone actually thinks about what they wear. Might not be my style, but this kind of effort? That's real fashion-head energy."
Artemis blinked, briefly caught off guard—but then smiled. "Thanks."
The fire spat sparks.
"Ah, but I guess the rest is all kinda messed up," she added after a moment, her tone turning more thoughtful. "Most people are tired or burnt out. It varies, depending on the person, but a bunch of us are constantly hustling just to barely survive."
She paused again.
A quiet melancholy crept into her expression as she pressed her lips together.
"Honestly? On some days I… can't even tell if half of what we're doing even matters."
The group fell into a brief silence.
Tetra shifted the mood, nodding between Artemis and Mister. "Oh, I've been meaning to ask—have either of you traveled? Like... beyond Vancouver?"
Mister nodded. "Yes, though I don't take on work outside of Canada—I prefer to stay within the country. I usually have business partners handle international connections for me."
"Plenty of places. My personal favourites are: Seoul, Montreal, Paris, and Night City," Artemis said. She paused. "I was planning to visit Milan next. That's still on my to-do list." Her tone was light as she stared up at the night sky. "I was supposed to go with some people."
"Oh? Who?" one of the nomads asked. "Family? Friends?"
The question lingered. Artemis blinked slowly. "Family... sort of." She didn't elaborate.
No one pushed her.
Her gaze dropped to the fire, its reflection flickering in her eyes. For a moment, she looked less like the sharp-eyed mercenary and more like someone simply trying to breathe.
Tetra studied her quietly. "Y'know," he said gently, "you don't have to say anything. But... keeping it all locked up—doesn't that get heavy?"
Artemis tilted her head, a wry smirk forming. "Saying I look tired?"
"I'm saying tonight, you seem… different," he replied. "Not in a bad way. Just… more in your head than usual."
Mister slid in with a shrug. "Some people have details they can't afford to share. Not easily, anyway."
There was a quiet beat. A few of the nomads glanced at one another, then nodded.
Tetra exhaled. "Of course."
"Still," one of the elders added, "sometimes, it helps. Even if it's just one person."
Mister didn't argue. "It does get lonely, keeping everything to yourself."
The words hung there a moment longer, more weight in them than his tone gave away.
Artemis sighed, stretching her legs out with a small groan. "Maybe… I'm just too fried to keep up the whole 'cool and mysterious' act."
Tetra smiled. "Careful, Artemis. Keep talking like that, and Mister will join you."
Mister tilted his head. "I beg your pardon?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Artemis narrowed her eyes.
"C'mon. You two are easily the most secretive people I know." Tetra smirked. "Azure's a close third, though. What's with you guys? Is it the air here?"
That earned a few laughs from the nomads.
"He's not wrong," one of them chimed in. "Both of you sit like statues until someone pries words outta you."
"Barely said ten words when we showed up," another added, nudging Artemis playfully.
Artemis crossed her arms, but there was the hint of a smile. "I can hold a conversation when I want to."
"Oh?" one of the nomads leaned in with mock curiosity. "Is that so?"
Tetra grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "You haven't exactly helped your case tonight. I mean, between the glares and the grunts, I'm still waiting for the talkative part."
Artemis shot him a flat look. "Don't even start."
"But I'm curious now," he teased, nudging her lightly. "Maybe we just need to give you a mic and a crowd?"
She groaned, shaking her head—but her shoulders had relaxed, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "You're the worst."
Tetra laughed, clearly amused. So she does have a teasable side.
Mister, still sitting in the background, wisely chose silence. He knew better than to get dragged into this particular game.
That earned a few more chuckles as ash shifted in the fire pit.
The night went on—quiet laughter, clinks of metal cups, and the low hum of waves pulling gently against the shore. For now, it was enough.
Everyone continued talking, sticking to surface-level stuff—societal trends and norms, weird vending machines in Vancouver, or how annoying transit routes could be.
Nothing personal. Just enough to keep the conversation going.
Eventually, when the night went by a little too long, one of the elders checked their weathered watch and stood with a stretch. "Alright, that's enough stargazing for tonight. Time for clean-up."
Others followed suit, snuffing out the fire, packing the leftover food, folding the grill.
"By the way, Tetra," one of them said, "any word from Wissen? About Ras?"
Tetra shook his head, depressed at the lack of results. "Still waiting. He said he'd reach out soon."
They nodded with understanding, then turned toward Artemis and Mister. "Thanks again for helping him. Really. It means a lot."
Another spoke up, smiling while giving a pat on the back. "If either of you ever find yourselves in a bad spot, Thelas Nation's got room. You want out of the city? A new start? We'll take care of you."
Tetra backed them up. "They mean it. We take care of our own."
Mister dipped his head in a small bow. "Respectfully, I must decline. I don't think I'm cut out for the nomad life—but I appreciate the offer."
Artemis blinked, eyes widening slightly. "I think... I'll pass too."
One of the elders studied Artemis for a moment, then spoke, her voice gentle. "Hey, one last thing. Sorry to bring this up again, but I can tell when someone's carrying a lot."
She smiled—soft and maternal.
Tetra shifted slightly, worried the elder might be overstepping—but to his relief, Artemis didn't bristle. Instead, she raised an eyebrow and nodded, inviting her to continue.
"You've got a lot in that head of yours, I get it," the elder continued. "Just take this as a bit of advice from an old woman. Maybe—just maybe—it's time to let some of it out... or let it go."
Artemis didn't reply at first.
Was she actually considering it?
She looked down at her boots, then up at the stars. She let out a breath through her nose—quiet, weary. "Someone else told me the same thing, actually."
Something in her face shifted.
"Anyways, thanks... I'll try. It's just... not that simple."
The elder smiled again—warm, knowing. "It never is." She left it at that.
"Well, I saw everything I need to see. Take good care of each other," another nomad said, pulling Tetra into a brief, strong hug. "Stay safe out there."
"Yeah! Appreciate the food," Tetra said, hugging a few others. "Tell the others I said hi."
"Of course! We'll swing by again when you're back from Italy."
With practised ease, the nomads filed toward the anchored boat. Someone powered it up with a low, barely audible hum. It detached from the shore and slipped into the tide like it belonged there—silent, steady, fading into the night.
Artemis watched it for a moment. "Where are they headed?"
Tetra crossed his arms, eyes on the horizon. "We've got ships further out. Pretty much way past the coast guard lanes, far enough not to trigger any border scans. Corporate law doesn't care much as long as we don't anchor too close. Out there, they're safe. Free."
She nodded slowly. "So… a floating city?"
"Something like that."
Behind them, the fire pit hissed as the last embers died.
"Safe and free, huh?" Artemis repeated under her breath, eyes fixed on the sand at her boots.
She wasn't really talking to anyone. Just chewing on Tetra's words, letting them settle.
Her brows twitched ever so slightly—not in confusion, but something closer to longing.
Tetra nudged her shoulder lightly, breaking the moment with a warm grin. "Hey, if you ever wanna talk, I've got two ears and one hell of a tolerance for late-night oversharing. But… I'd also love to go home sometime tonight."
Mister spoke softly from behind them. "He's right. If something's eating at you, better not let it hollow you out. Someone ought to hear it—eventually."
Artemis gave a one-shouldered shrug, casual as ever. "Appreciate it."
She pushed herself to her feet, dusting off her pants and stretching her arms. "Anyways, enough of this shit. C'mon. I'll drive."
Tetra raised a brow. "You sure?"
"Yeah," she said, glancing at them. "I might as well drop you guys off."
The three of them walked off together, boots crunching faintly against the sand. The tide rolled in gently behind them as the night swallowed the beach once more.
What a beautiful night.