Glancing down, it wasn’t hard to spot the blonde dot yelling up at me.

  As to what she was yelling? It would’ve been impossible to hear at this distance even without the wind screaming in my ears.

  Despite that, something about the back of her phone over her face made me plenty confident that I didn’t need to know.

  So, ignoring everything, ignoring everyone, I stared up at the cloudy sky.

  There was a bright spot in the sea of gray. Not quite ‘sunlight’. Nothing so intense. But it was beautiful all the same.

  Staring transfixed, as though boarding an invisible elevator to somewhere better, I took a single, purposeful step.

  The light fell away. And the buildings. And the world itself as I was overcome by pure, absolute tranquility.

  The wind rushed up my pant leg, through my shirt, only to escape out the arm and head holes. But not before puffing it out like a woefully undersized parachute.

  I didn’t flail.

  I didn’t struggle.

  I didn’t resist at all.

  Joining with the wind itself, I felt closer to the heavens than ever before as I plummeted, otherwise unmoving, straight and true as an arrow fired by a master archer.

  “NOOO!!!”

  Like an icepick into glass, my tranquility was shattered by the now much closer voice.

  For the first time, I regretted jumping.

  Moment entirely ruined, my gaze fell from the heavens, toward what I was pretty sure wasn’t an actual emergency. Still I was obliged to verify. I even made that rule myself after a few close calls where one of us thought the other was joking.

  So, ready for today to be over, I broke away from existential actualization and looked at the screaming woman.

  Maybe-wrong as I technically was, I still knew exactly what I’d see. Her screaming, making a face, and in no danger whatsoever.

  Gaping at me as I fell, her expression was one of horror. As though wishing for nothing more than to reverse time and do everything in her power to avoid the tragic eventuality before her.

  An instant before I landed, I was at just the right angle to see the sun reflect off her wet, reddened face.

  Then my feet hit the water.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I slid under the surface like a sword into its scabbard, the water resistance already counteracting the inertia from my fall.

  As soon as my head went under, I re-opened my eyes to a breathtaking view. A multi-story tunnel of ever deepening blue stretching forever down a long-flooded city street. I wished I would’ve brought my camera. Or that it was waterproof. Or that it could handle movement this fast.

  Even whatever Steph’s fit was about couldn’t keep the tranquility from flooding right back over me with the water. Not that I really got to enjoy it with how busy I was trying not to die, let alone pass out.

  From perpendicular to the street below, I bent backwards as far as I dared to bring myself nearly parallel with it by the time I rocketed to the bottom.

  I still hit the concrete pretty hard and fast, even as I pinwheeled my limbs to shift my momentum more horizontal than vertical.

  My effort paid off with a distinct lack of broken bones from what basically amounted to getting hit by a slow car. As opposed to a fast train. So not nothing. But it shouldn’t leave me with any more than a couple bruises where I pushed off about a tenth of a second too soon with my legs. That, and extreme soreness everywhere else for the next few days.

  A much-improved result from the first dozen or so times I’d pulled this stunt. Overall, I felt pretty damned great about my total lack of serious injuries.

  Torpedoing feet-first down the street, I was finally able to spare a bit of thought for potential threats. But I couldn’t see anything. Not behind me, anyway.

  Once I slowed enough to orient myself, I couldn't find any company that way either, mammal or otherwise. Thank god…

  So what the hell was her problem? “Jason, that fucking sucked!”

  My mood shifted right back to indignant as I tried not to pick a fight about the first thing I heard when I swam back into shouting range.

  There was no other greeting than that.

  I took my sweet time catching my breath before getting back to her once I was good and ready. “…What?” That felt like a valid question.

  Despite our smoothest, easiest, most profitable day in years, my supposed ‘partner’ couldn’t resist having a problem with how I did all the work as she glared imperiously down at me from on high.

  She was perched atop the same three-story building roof she hadn’t left since I entered the one I’d just jumped from. “‘What’?”

  She flipped me off. “‘WHAT’???”

  With a different finger, she pointed across the street to where I’d just been standing. “You just walked off the edge all casual and stoic like a jackass! That’s fucking ‘WHAT’!!!”

  I’d clearly made a mistake not staying underwater longer. Much longer. Until I ran out of breath. At least…

  You know, it was really my fault for assuming I was in for satisfaction rather than an interrogation after a job well done. “I don’t know what you’re harping on about. I did that as well as I could and everything went great. In English, Steph. What, for the love of Christ, is your problem?”

  Steph folded her arms from atop the sunken building, clearly disagreeing on which of us deserved what. “My problem? Jason. It was. The perfect chance. You Dumbass.”

  She gestured back to where I’d dropped from. “How often does a job naturally involve diving from that high? You had every right, opportunity, and obligation, to show off. I mean okay sure, you could’ve belly-flopped or something. And that would’ve been bad.”

  She looked me straight in the eye. “But you’re better than that. I know you are.”

  She kicked a stray rock down at where I was floating.

  I dodged it.

  “I guess I wish more people did too.” Taking a seat on the edge of the roof, Steph seemed to stare straight through me. “You really are amazing, Jason. You know that, right? Like, you could be famous. And if you were famous, you wouldn’t even have to be out here at all. And if I set myself up as your manager, neither would I.”

  Now she looked at me like I’d kicked her puppy. “All you had to do was try, Jason. I set everything up. I did all the work.”

  Plainly spotting the well-justified face I was making, she mirrored it. “Not on the job, dumbass. The shot. The angle was perfect. The lighting, the backdrop, the… Everything… Was perfect. And when the sun broke through the clouds like that? It was beautiful. Or didn’t you notice?”

  Steph ended her press conference by glaring back down at me.

  I glared back.

  But apparently, silent protest wasn’t the correct response as she picked up right where she’d left off after what only turned out to be a momentary pause. “But instead, it was the most boring shit I’ve ever seen! Not only that, but I came off like the biggest bitch EVER, telling a guy who looked like he was building up the courage to kill himself… To do a FUCKING FLIP!!! And then, while he fell with a record-breaking lack of flair, he just STARED at the fucking camera like I was the whole reason he did it!”

  Throughout her tirade, I never stopped meeting Steph’s indignant gaze with one of my own. It was a look I’d had many, many occasions to practice lately.

  The practice apparently paid off too, her expression shifting more to what I might’ve expected if she’d just let out a big wet fart at dinner.

  Well, good then. Maybe now I can finally respond… “Not here to impress you, Steph. Just delete the video if it’s so bad. I didn’t ask you to make a spectacle out of me.”

  I feigned a shrug through my doggy paddle. “Or post it. Whatever. I’m not your mom. But look, Steph. I know you mean well. And I know this can be hard to remember… But you’re not my mom either.”

  Throwing out a final smirk, I flipped her off with both hands and smoothly transitioned the upwards motion into a full backwards dive.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Sinking back under, I was vindictively enraptured by how nice and warm the water felt on my face. Oh, wait. I must’ve been literally freezing for a minute there… I had to be careful about that. I couldn’t exactly afford to catch a cold this week. But the job came first.

  As I sank, my mind stayed on how I’d disappointed Little Miss Therapist-Agent-Coach up there. I really had been pretty harsh, hand’t I? She’d obviously put some real thought into setting up that picture.

  I grabbed the bag.

  But was I going to apologize? I definitely didn’t want to… After all, I’d never said I’d do any needlessly-life-risking flips or whatever the hell she’d wanted. And fame truly was the last thing I needed right now. I had to be firm on that… Even in the best case, going viral would’ve gone against the whole point of being out here in the first place.

  All of a sudden, my train of thought was interrupted by an urgent message from my body. Apparently, I needed to stop operating on autopilot and actually put some effort in.

  Damn, this thing was heavy. Come to think of it, I’d never actually picked it up before. I’d used that hover dolly to get it up to the roof and into the bag. Then, I’d just pushed it right off.

  Shame we couldn’t salvage that old-rich-people-toy. But whatever. With what I’d recovered, I could buy as many of them as we could possibly want. I could even splurge on a model not irreparably rusted through and leaning to the left. Yeah… Same shitty neighborhood, same dangerous job of questionable legality, and all the hover-dollies we could eat. Dream big, Jameson…

  Gripping the waterproof with both hands, I braced for an underwater leap. An oddly relaxing sensation as warmth rushed to each of my now very tender, very cold limbs.

  All at once, I uncoiled everything I’d just braced, working the less bruised of my muscles harder to launch as smoothly as possible with this bag that I could swear weighed more than I did. Careful, now… No need to pull any muscles or dislocate any shoulders. Although I was running out of breath…

  Alright, maybe going a little faster wasn’t out of the question. I had to get this thing up to Jess-no, Steph. Wow. Was I really that woozy?

  Between the pressure and the physical strain, I was actually starting to feel tested by this. Well then… It was a test I would pass.

  Pushing my legs to the limit, I accelerated upwards.

  Faster.

  I dug deep.

  Faster.

  But still only halfway to the water’s surface. And my lightheadedness hadn’t exactly lessened. I wouldn’t make it. Not at this rate.

  My consciousness slowly faded.

  But my legs made no such capitulation.

  Faster.

  I felt like I was gonna pass out.

  Faster.

  My head was pounding.

  Faster.

  A migraine? Oh… I needed to breathe, didn’t I? Or else I was gonna pass out down here.

  But the bag… The treasure… No. I would’ve rather died than leave it behind.

  In a delirious moment of clarity, I realized the truth. This was stupid. Stupider than Steph’s obsession with going viral.

  I mentally slapped myself. “Jameson George Simmons, What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”

  Oxygen-deprived as I was, I tried to actually say that out loud.

  The only result was that now, the breath I’d been holding was also gone, along with all my remaining energy.

  Dropping the bag, it unceremoniously clunked back down to the sea floor, ending about a foot from where it started.

  I resurfaced directly above, inhaling so hard that I actually choked a bit.

  My breach of the water’s surface was met with an even louder scream than last time.

  “WHAT HAPPENED???” Steph sounded like she was about to have a heart attack.

  But then she stilled, looking confused as she seemed to notice the lack of anything red either on me, or in the water.

  I could practically see the brain cell she used to connect the dots around me clearly being more worn out than she’d ever seen.

  Steph just stared at me like that while I caught my breath.

  But it wasn’t long before she braced one hand on her knee, pointed the other at my face, and burst into laughter. “Oh my fucking god! Did you just almost sacrifice your life to pull that shit up?”

  She ironically struggled to stay on her feet as she nearly ran out of her own breath laughing so hard.

  Finally catching enough of my breath to respond, I neglected to do so in favor of watching indignantly as she made fun of me. For what? Trying?

  Over roughly the same amount of time she just took, I reviewed the situation from her perspective.

  Finally, casting aside all vestiges of indignant offense, I started laughing too. “Oh my god! Yeah. Yeah, I actually did! Lord above, I think that might’ve been the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

  I really thought about it. That only made me laugh harder.

  I kept on laughing. We both did.

  Soon, all that was left on either of our faces was a wide, Jason-effacing grin.

  But then Steph calmed down. “Alright, dumbass…” My plight seemed to have put her in a better mood. “Let’s go.”

  Signaling with her thumb that I should come up already, she pivoted around and walked away from the building’s edge.

  In a repetition of what I’d basically been doing all day, I climbed the roughly two feet between water and roof and methodically dried off before following her back onto my boat.

  Almost immediately, I heard, felt, and smelled the engine’s rumble.

  Wanting nothing more than to curl up in the cot and sleep, I settled on getting dressed and drying my hair as we gradually accelerated.

  Steph had been careful threading the mid-sized boat through all these buildings to get here. At the same comfy pace, it’d be a few minutes before we got around to where I dropped the bag.

  Taking the first of two turns to reach it, the boat started pivoting around the building we’d been standing on.

  But there was some kind of grinding metal-on-metal noise coming from behind.

  I winced at what no-dout equated to someone keying my boat. “What in the hell-”

  Steph interrupted my actually pretty legit question in a vaguely jokey tone I could barely catch through the engine’s roar. “Jason…”

  Cupping my hands to my mouth, I tried to yell over the noise. “WHAT???”

  No response came.

  But then one did. “Okay!”

  She started laughing. “Quit it!”

  More of a giggle, actually. “That’s enough!”

  The giggling stopped. “Alright, the bit is done!”

  I didn’t hear anything else from the cockpit I still couldn’t see from this side of the boat. “Oooh-kaaayyy-”

  Steph’s next exclamation pierced straight through my sarcasm. “CUT IT OUT, ASSHOLE!!!”

  Alright, I was clearly missing something. “Steph, what are you doing over there?!”

  “JAMESON SIMMONS, I DID NOT SIGN ON WITH YOU… To be fucked with… Like this…” By the end, Steph sounded more confused than angry.

  A second passed in engine-revving, metal-grinding silence.

  “But then who’s pulling-OH… FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK-”

  Leaping unsteadily to my feet, I rushed around to the back of the boat, arriving somewhere around the sixth ‘Fuck’. Just in time to see Steph pulled overboard.

  “GOD DAMN FUCKING SHIT BA-” Her voice cut out just as I made it to where she fell.

  I froze for a moment, staring into the depths. But there was too much recent splashing to see anything beneath. Except that now there definitely was, in fact, red in the water.

  Oh no. Oh god no… I knew today was going too well.

  With a practiced effort of will, I broke through my momentary panic with the same calming technique I’d spent so much time teaching the girl recently.

  Okay Jameson, one thing at a time… Was she in danger?

  Yes. Almost definitely yes. So she was in danger. Did she want help?

  Too risky to make sure. Either the answer would be ‘no’, or she could die in the meantime. No waiting then. Should I jump in to save her?

  Yes. I didn’t even need to think about that one. Okay, so I was gonna jump in… Should I take my clothes back off first?

  No. That’d take too long. No time for prep, then. But… Bare-handed? What if it was a shark?

  Hesitation gone, I lunged over, scooped my AK-238 out of the duffel bag next to the cockpit, ran back, and less than three seconds after Steph fell off the boat, I dove in after.

  Just then, Steph surfaced. She looked pissed. And pained. In roughly equal measure.

  So she didn’t need saving? Well, great… Just one problem. Depending on how I hit her, which I undoubtedly now would, I could seriously hurt one or both of us. Gotta be quick about this…

  First, I tossed the assault rifle over my shoulder.

  Second, I moved my hand forward, poising it to brace her forehead.

  Third, I braced my other forearm against her chest from shoulder to elbow like a particularly ineffective seatbelt. But it was the best I could do with the time I had.

  “WHAT THE FUGLB-” Steph surfaced, nearly even getting out an expletive before her head and upper body were firmly, albeit with minimal injury, shoved back underwater.

  A few miserable minutes later, we were back on the boat.

  Turned out, Steph had somehow managed to wrap her safety line around a vestigial gutter at the edge of the roof we’d just vacated. As the boat sped up, the cord went taut.

  In the proceeding battle of wills, Steph had dislodged the gutter, unhooking it from most of the sunken building. So she’d won that battle. But the gutter won the war as it still pulled her inexorably off the boat. And thanks to the admittedly-not-as-smooth-as-I’d-prefer hull, she’d scraped her knee pretty bad on the way down.

  Her initial giggling was based on an assumption that I’d been jokingly tugging on her safety line. “I don’t know… To fuck with me, I guess?”

  That would’ve been quite a dangerous and unprofessional thing for me to do. But, on the other hand, I’d done exactly that on a different job last week. Except instead of fostering a closer rapport like I’d wanted, it had apparently set an entirely different kind of precedent.

  To make matters worse, we both quickly realized something neither of us had planned for. There wasn’t a scrap of dry clothing left on the boat. Combined with our being hundreds of miles away from the nearest known source of non-wet apparel, the general mood took a sudden and significant downturn.

  Not only that, but thanks to a low-speed collision with the side of a building while we were busy in the water, my customized scavenging boat had its first real dent in all the years I’d owned it.

  At least the gun made it back onboard after I’d tossed it up. Thank God for small miracles… We’d be dead if we ran into someone with only Steph’s pistol to defend ourselves. Unless, of course, they fancied waiting for me to disassemble, dry, and reassemble the thing before they attacked.

  Wordlessly, albeit with plenty of half enraged, half incoherent muttering, Steph backed up from the crash and deftly finished maneuvering the boat into place.

  She stopped it right on top of where I was laughing in the water not ten minutes ago.

  Muttering in a manner to rival her own, I unhooked the boat’s side-mounted crane.

  Then, both stubbornly refusing to get wet again, with precisely the teamwork and coordination of a dysfunctional couple fighting over a claw machine, we pulled up today’s haul.

  And all it took was far more mistakes, frustration, and genuinely hurt feelings than the rest of the job combined.