The final installment of introductory material for this series.
Plain text version here.

In Weatherdown, there are the Downs. It was originally one half of the city, now it is only one of four corners of the city, the far Western one. When it was the cities of Weather and Downs, Downs was the glittering hub of the valley. In recent years it has become filled with dilapidated shopping malls and low rent apartments, and in particular, there is a movie theatre. Old, with crumbling walls. A chain-link fence with a condemned sign keeps the average citizen away, and very strong boards- too strong for normal wood- block the doors from curious children and squatters. It’s left at that to all but the Birds an organization that is army, espionage and assassins, a key force for justice composed of only criminals. And this theatre is the home of the Hearts faction of the Birds- the Weatherdown Birds.
Below the theatre is a basement, where there is a training room, common room, communications room, and four miniature living areas. In the communications room, a groggy teenage girl with messy blonde pigtails stared at an array of monitors with bloodshot eyes. She was sitting cross-legged in a desk chair, absently twisting it from side to side. Data fled past her eyes on one screen, video feeds of important people and locations on the other. She stifled a yawn. A digital clock gleamed through a mess of wires. She pulled them back and saw that it read 3:47 AM. The girl stood and left the communications room, stretching her arms and yawning. She turned and looked at the deserted common room, then wandered down the hall. Her door was the first on the left. There was a twin-sized bed and a desk. There were no decorations on the wall, and the only sign of life was a clutter of strange metal pieces clustered on the floor and desk. The girl yanked her quilt (plain and black) from the bed and wrapped it around herself. She padded, barefoot, back to the communications room, and plopped herself into the chair.
She started twisting an ink-pen into her hair, when a voice echoed in her ear.
“On our way back, Wren. Stay awake.”
“‘Bout time, Sparrow.”
Sparrow’s voice practically frowned. “Field work takes time,” the feed of his voice cut off.
Wren blew a raspberry at the retreating audio, and burrowed further into her blankets. It was a little over half an hour when she was jolted fully awake by the clamor of feet in the common room. She pushed up out of the chair and wandered down the hall to greet them. The other three Birds looked exhausted. The other female, known as Rook, sat down heavily on the spartan sofa in the common room. She pulled her black hair from her face and smiled wearily at Wren. She was only a few years older than Wren, but had eyes- bright strange blue eyes- that looked like they had seen centuries. Falcon, an over-lanky young man somewhere in his early twenties, threw himself on the sofa opposite Rook without ceremony. Something about him frightened Wren.
And then there was Sparrow. He approached Wren and leaned heavily against the door-frame that led from the common room to the hallways, barring Wren’s way. She had to look up to see him properly, he was much taller than her.
“Communication had to be kept minimum, I’m sure you understand,” he said.
“Yeah.”
Something about Sparrow made Wren feel tiny and pliable. He was the King of the Hearts faction, and she knew why. He was older than all of them for one, late twenties, early thirties perhaps, but even more importantly, he was good at what he did. People had to listen to him. He commanded attention in his posture and his voice, and he exuded a sexuality which was both extremely unsettling and very desirable.
“Don’t ask them about it for now,” he instructed.
“‘Kay. Any particular reason?”
In lieu of actual answer he merely said, “Get some sleep.”

It was five in the morning, when Wren heard someone padding across the floor of her room.
In the dark she could make out a figure, just barely.
“You awake?” Rook’s voice sounded over-loud. The walls were sheeted in iron, and it gave a strange effect to speech.
“Yeah. Always takes me a while. What’re you up for?”
“Can’t shake the adrenaline yet. And anyway, I thought you’d be better company than Falcon.”
“And Sparrow?”
“He went to bed, I guess. I can’t really picture him sleeping though.”
Wren had trouble with the mental image. Rook sat down on the edge of her bed.
“How was it?” Wren asked into the dark.
Something tinkled.
“Check it out,” Rook said, pressing something into Wren’s hand. She flicked a nearby switch and a dull light in the floor panels glowed. Wren held the object up. It caught the light and cast rainbows on the wall.
‘Real diamonds?” Rook’s eyes glittered bright as the necklace Wren was holding up to the light.
“See that cut? Only real diamonds sparkle that much.”
Rook reached out, somewhat nervous, as if afraid the younger girl would not return it.
“Sparrow said I could keep it,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to hide her pride . She loved things that sparkled and glittered and cost way too much. She had been gleaning things from the scenes of missions lately, which in any other branch of government funded activity could have been a crime, but in Wren’s mind, was probably almost a given in the Birds. After all, they were all former criminals, it was part of the job.
“So this is from the woman?” Wren looked at it distastefully. Even criminals have some virtues.
“She’s dead,” Rook said simply. “Not like she needs it.”
She clasped the necklace around her neck. It sparkled.
“Get some sleep kiddo,” Rook said, standing. She wandered off, closing the door. Wren rolled over, eyes to the wall. Soon she was breathing slowly, and pictures of data feeds and glittering objects danced behind her eyes.

In the hallway, Rook met Falcon.
“Hey,” he said simply. In spite of being rather spindly, he stood very straight under his dark wool coat.
“Hey,” Rook replied.
“I’m gonna go up,” he informed her. “If you wanna come with.”
Rook followed him to the elevator in the common room and up into the abandoned movie theatre. They walked, in silence, up the maintenance staircase to the roof. Falcon opened the door and Rook kicked it closed. She leaned heavily against it and looked out over the Downs. While Falcon plunked himself over by a ventilation shaft. He felt around his jacket, and when his search proved useless, looked at her. “You gotta light?”
Rook felt in her jacket pocket, and then tossed him the lighter.
“The necklace,” he said, a cigarette between his teeth, “it’s nice.” He flicked the lighter, then tossed it back at her, smoke streaming out of his nostrils.
“Some people make this look good,” he said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth with thumb and forefinger. He exhaled more smoke.
“You hold it wrong,” Rook told him. Then she grinned. “That was a perfect opportunity for a crude joke.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” he smiled. “What a job we’ve got. Ruins your sense of humor.”
Rook nodded. “It’s a nice night though.”
The grey sky by night was lit an eerie peach color from the streetlights. Down below, a siren echoed and some dogs barked in response. Falcon pulled a hand through his dark hair and took another drag on the cigarette. He was average looking, Rook thought, the sort of guy who would have played basketball in high school and enjoyed cook-outs in the summer, but there was something about him, coiled up like a spring, ready to leap into action at any moment. She saw it on occasion, when he had to fight, there was something dark, inhuman about him- about all of them. A lack of mercy or compassion that regular people had. She ran a finger across the diamond necklace and looked at him.
“There’s blood on your shirt,” she said softly.
He shrugged.

At 11 in the morning, Sparrow flung open the door to Wren’s room. She blinked at him, startled, then buried her head in the pillow.
“No!” she groaned.
“You’ve already slept too late, doll, up.”
Doll, who called people doll? Still, Wren sat up and shrugged off the blankets. She wandered into the communications room.
“It’s a relief you don’t sleep naked, cuts out the middleman- all that pesky business of dressing.”
Wren looked down at her sleepwear.
“Yeah well-” then she yawned out the rest of her reply. “So you’ve got a mission? Two in a row?”
Sparrow nodded.
“Where are Rook and Falcon?” Wren asked.
“Sleeping.”
So it was a Sparrow-alone mission. Those were few and frightening.
“Um, will it be long?”
“No idea.”
“Is it dangerous?” she blinked up at him.
“I’m a genius, I’m not in any danger.”
Wren rolled her eyes. “So communication at zero?”
“Yeah, I don’t do the phone dating thing.”
Sparrow picked up his coat, which had been hanging on the back of the console’s chair.
“I just need you to put the tracker up on me. If I fall off the radar, I need you to contact Canary.”
Wren’s hand shot out and grasped his wrist.
“Be careful, Sparrow.” Immediately after doing this she felt stupid.
But he looked genuinely taken aback. Then a smile played at the corners of his mouth. He tossed something at her, and she instinctively reached out to catch it. Unclasping her hand she stared at a small black zip drive.
“I don’t want you getting all catty, thinking that Rook is the only girl who gets presents. There’s a virus in there, so don’t use it on the main computer, okay?”
She nodded. “Thanks.” She tried to suppress a grin.
He patted her shoulder. “Get your kicks, kiddo. Once you turn on the feed you can go back to sleep, okay?” 
He headed towards the elevator in the common room, and she watched his wool coat disappear.
Upstairs, in the theatre, leaning against a forever closed concession stand, was Rook. She eyed him.
“Tell me, King of Hearts, do you enjoy trading your self-respect for information?”
Sparrow raised an eyebrow. “Do you enjoy getting stoned after every mission?”
She clenched her teeth.
“Use eye drops next time,” Sparrow continued. “Do not forget who is in charge, Diamonds. You’re not as special as you think you are.”
“When are you coming back?” she hissed.
“When I’m done trading my self-respect for information.” He moved towards the exit, waving his hand over his head. “You guys have the day to yourselves.”
Then he was gone.
Rook raises her hand to the com phone in her ear, and was connected to the communications room.
“Mmhmm?” Wren yawned.
“You know the popcorn makers still work up here? I bet I can dig up some old film to watch.”
“Why not?” Wren replied. “I’ve got a virus to hack, but it can wait.”
Soon the girls were sitting side-by-side with a bucket of steaming popcorn in the plush seats which Rook had made her her personal goal to keep in order. “It’s not bad, really,” Wren said brightly of the black and white reel flashing before them.
“No,” Rook said, passing a finger across her necklace and silently watching the diamonds glitter in the sepia glow. “I suppose not.”
She grabbed a handful of popcorn.
“It could definitely be worse.”