Eyes of Emerald

  On the land of Concordia—humanity’s only livable continent of the age—only one would stand on the fine genetic line between man and humanoid reptile.

 It was a bizarre world, a world of scientific marvels, new regions of land manufactured by ancestors, and of course, the threat of the reptilian humanoids that seemed to dominate every outlet of media. Far gone were the days of physical continents, gigantic individual countries, and the normality of oceanic travel. These days, Concordia was the only mass of land livable for humans, an expansive continent severed into several sections of cultural preservation—the American Colony, the British Empire, the United European Union, the Eastern Regime, and more. Many years had gone by since the reptilians revealed themselves to the world, woken by the great apocalypse that left the rest of the world devastated in its wake—and every human stronghold, despite their issues with one another, had one common goal.

 To repel the reptilian extremists that now threatened their great Concordia.

 This motivation drove Aldric’s father, much like it did everyone else in the British Military. Aldric’s father was of high import in Cevron City, a brilliant genetic scientist working on various bioweapons and modifications in order to fight against the reptilian scourge. Alexander—Aldric’s father—was a smart and quick-witted sort, someone who never bothered to weigh his mind down with the monotony of social graces. His brain was positively cluttered with science and all the possibilities attached, and he showed little care for anything else in the world—aside from his son, of course.

 In fact, Alexander spent many of his workdays preaching to Aldric about the importance of science, progress, and using their superior intellect to diminish the reptilian threat in society. Today was one of those days; Aldric sat lazily on one of the many countertops inside his father’s spacious workplace, a massive room on one of the top floors of the BMH in Cevron City—the British Military Headquarters. The room was extremely spacious with a tall ceiling, and thankfully so, as Alexander had hundreds of items all around—shelves of glass jars and beakers containing questionable substances, liquids, and samples of reptilian DNA, as well as experimental schematics for new weaponry and other old-world items of good use, like microscopes and such. Each time Aldric visited his father at work, he would spend his time wandering about out of boredom, examining the various containers of strange liquid and sighing heavily. When he was younger, he found it all fascinating—but nowadays, he was quite used to seeing it all, almost bored by it. The wall facing the sparkling capital city was made entirely of glass, giving both of them a spectacular view, though Alexander rarely paid mind to it, as he was always focused on his work. The countertop was elongated like a bar, and Aldric lay sprawled over it, his arms folded behind his head while his father fidgeted with a microscope two shelves away. The shelves containing all the bizarre scientific samples were tall and metal, every liquid, tissue, beaker, and jar on clear display like always. Aldric rolled his head to the side, just able to see his father’s head between the jars and beakers. Both of them had a similar build—slender with somewhat narrow faces, though Alexander was visibly aged compared to his son. While Aldric had no wrinkles on his face, his stringy fohawk still a dark brown, his father’s hair had faded into a sandier color over the years, invaded by graying streaks, his visage marked with laugh lines and clearly careworn. Another stark contrast between the two of them was their attire, Aldric was wearing a dark casual outfit—a navy blue button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, as well as a pair of black pants—and Alexander was dressed in his white scientist getup, complete with an odd pair of goggles covering his eyes.

 “Oy,” Aldric called out after nearly half an hour of silence. “Whatcha doing?”

 Alexander didn’t reply right away. He stepped away from the microscope, scribbled down a few quick notes on his clipboard, then stepped around the shelves and approached his son.

 “I did try to explain it to ya’ an hour ago,” Alexander snarked with a smirk. “And all you had to say in response was something about lunch.”

 “Which you never answered,” Aldric laughed. “I asked if I could order some food…”

 “Go downstairs to the cafeteria,” Alexander instructed.

 “Uuugh… but I’m sick of their food,” Aldric complained, scrunching up his face and sitting fully upright. “Why can’t I order a foldover?”

 “Oy—here’s a fun fact,” Alexander grinned. “Did you know foldovers used to be called calzones? Back in the day—”

 “I don’t caaare,” Aldric sighed, running hands down his face. “Can I order one or not?”

 “You know the answer to that,” Alexander said, sauntering away and collecting his clipboard. “They wouldn’t let any fast-food delivery boys into this building even if it was a good idea to eat lunch inside a room full of experimental materials.”

 Aldric groaned and tossed his head back, glancing at the gigantic windows and staring into the city for a moment. When he faced his father again, Alexander was standing just beside him, placing the clipboard on the counter and sighing deeply.

 “Did they ever finish that freaky laser rifle thing you were working on?” Aldric wondered.

 “Sort of,” Alexander sighed, sinking into the nearest chair, as he was clearly ready to take a break from his work. “They developed the prototype of the laser rifle, but they haven’t taken it any farther yet.”

 “Why not?”

 “Because I’m a geneticist, not a mechanical engineer. They’re probably wary of testing a weapon invented by someone who doesn’t specialize in that particular field.”

 “That’s dumb.”

 “Maybe, but it’s not my call.”

 “If they ever get those laser rifles into mass production, you better get me one for Christmas.”

 Alexander cocked his head, peeling the goggles from his eyes and giving his son a long, thoughtful stare.

 Aldric narrowed his eyes. “What…?”

 “You’d have all the military’s toys to play with if you joined the BM,” Alexander smirked.

 Aldric moaned out a sigh. “Ugh, with this again… I don’t wanna join the military.”

 “Why not?” Alexander asked curiously. “Ever since you were little, all you talked about was making a difference somehow—”

 “Right, but not in the military,” Aldric said flatly, raising his brows and planting his finger to the countertop. “Not that way.”

 “I’m part of this military,” Alexander stated. “What’s so wrong with that?”

 “Nothing—it works for you just fine,” Aldric told him, rolling his neck and lying backward over the counter again. “I just don’t think it’d work for me. Too many rules.”

 “You can’t just become a lone vigilante,” Alexander told him. “That’s not realistic.”

 Aldric turned his head, scoffing out a laugh. “Not realistic? We live in a world full of reptoid terrorists bombing random places in every major city—”

 “And there’re precious few superheroes doing anything about it,” Alexander pointed out. “Which is what makes the military necessary.”

 Aldric folded his arms over his chest, gazing into the ceiling and wearing a conflicted expression. After a moment of thought, he spoke again.

 “It just seems kinda… one-sided,” he murmured. “You see it on the news, and in the papers… and it’s all about how the reptilians are evil. But, technically… the reptilians were on this planet as long as us. They’ve just been underground forever. When they finally resurfaced, and they found out that most of their world was destroyed… so… well… it’s kinda natural for them to be mad, right?”

 “Perhaps,” Alexander said with a sideways nod. “But that doesn’t excuse the shootings and bombings. Those are acts of terrorism, plain and simple.”

 “I know that, Pop,” Aldric sighed. “But none of our militaries really distinguish between peaceful reptilians and extremist ones. That’s why I like the idea of doing things outside the rules… so I wouldn’t have to kill ‘em all on sight. God knows humanity’s done that among themselves a million and one times. We oughta learn our lesson at some point…”

 “I get it… believe me, I do,” Alexander conceded. “But this is the best we can realistically do.”

 The two of them were silent for a moment.

“What is it you’re working on today…?” Aldric muttered seconds later.

 Alexander leaned back in his chair, releasing a cloud of breath. “Well… it’s essentially… a combination of Project Alpha and the new substance we got a few weeks ago. I discovered I can combine the two, although… I’m unsure what the end result will be.”

 “So you’re just throwing shit together and seeing what happens,” Aldric surmised, cracking a half-smile.

 Alexander returned his snarky smirk. “Basically. It’s not exactly orders from above, but… what can I say? I’m curious. Project Alpha was a mutant form of reptilian DNA, and the new substance turned out to be slightly radioactive and otherwise tampered-with in ways I won’t bother explaining, which lends itself to the possibility of further mutation. The two are mixing together as we speak, and I’ve been examining the leftovers…”

 “What exactly is the new substance…?”

 “It would take me forever to explain, like I said…”

 “M’kay. What’re you planning to do with the mutant DNA once it’s done mixing together?”

 “No idea. I dunno what it’s gonna turn into. But hey—be nice to discover a new thing, wouldn’t it? It might turn out to be useful. Maybe it’ll make people more resilient. Or, maybe it’ll be a toxic poison to us all. God knows.”

 “That ah… that sounds promising.”

 Alexander laughed. “Reptilians are fascinating. They are exactly what we would be if we took a coldblooded turn somewhere. Not to mention, their scaly skin is more resistant to gunfire—so that’d be a nice thing to replicate, now wouldn’t it?”

 “That’s a bit idealistic, Pop.”

 “Maybe, but we know so little about their DNA. There’s a lot to discover.”

 “You really think you’re gonna invent some magical compound that can give humans new abilities? And you say I’m unrealistic…”

 “It’s possible, Aldric. Maybe not probable, but possible.”

 “There are some reptilians with venomous fangs, y’know that?”

 “Of course I do.”

 “Well… what if your new substance ends up making humans grow poison fangs?”

 Alexander chuckled and shook his head. “Poison and venom are two different things. Poison is any toxicity that can be ingested or absorbed, but venom specifically refers to a toxicity that comes from a bite—”

 “Stop turning everything into a bloody lesson,” Aldric whined, snickering and cradling his skull. “God blind me, my head hurts…”

“Aldric,” Alexander said, a tone of seriousness in his voice now. He slowly stood, his eyes fixating on his son’s. “You are so brilliant. Your IQ is bordering genius, and you’ve got a heart of gold. You’d do a world of good here… if you could just get past your aloof-as-ever attitude.”

 The two shared an intense stare, Aldric feeling suddenly spotlighted. He’d had this conversation with his father many times before, but he’d never grown accustomed to this feeling of pressure that always arose—the unsettling sense of obligation, as if his father insistently expected him to follow in his footsteps. Aldric always entertained the notion of joining the causes of humanity and making a real difference, but just as he’d told his father, he hadn’t yet found a way of doing so that he felt comfortable with. So, naturally—just like all the times he spoke to his father about this in the past—Aldric could think of no real response.

 In this moment—a moment that had occurred between the two of them numerous times before, inside the spacious enclosure of Alexander’s workplace—Aldric felt a deep sense of dread, inhaling a heavy breath and wondering why such a feeling had strangely dawned upon him. So many times, he talked to his father about this—and so many days, he’d spent in his father’s workplace. There was nothing new about this moment, nothing dreadful or alarming, nothing that should warrant such a bizarre sense of doom. This conversation, this environment, this routine—it was completely commonplace to him, the unchanging normality of Aldric’s relatively ordinary life.

 But then, something happened that would shatter the routine forever.

 A blaring alarm sounded above their heads, echoing throughout the room and grasping their attention. Aldric wore a confused face and covered his ears, but Alexander appeared to be utterly mortified, gazing up at the intercom in absolute horror. Just when Aldric opened his mouth to ask about the awful noise, something else happened that froze him to silence.

 The floor gave a slight tremor—as did the walls, and all the metal shelves containing Alexander’s many experiments.

 Aldric gulped, his heart beginning to pound.

 Alexander wheeled around and glanced at his shelves, then faced his son again. Before he could speak, a voice began speaking over the intercom system, merging with the deafening emergency siren that was wailing throughout the entire BMH building. The voice was girlish and robotic, and it repeated two words on repeat.

 “EMERGENCY EVACUATION. EMERGENCY EVACUATION.”

 The floor gave another shake—this time much harder, making one of the jars fall to the floor and shatter. A distant booming noise echoed from somewhere outside, and Aldric and Alexander exchanged frantic glances, their heads going light as their hearts raced.

 Their eyes locked onto the glass wall—spotting the source of the urgency. A monstrous burst of fire had erupted two blocks away, decimating every building nearby as a wicked mound of dust and debris arose rapidly from the source of the explosion, the quick billowing mounds sweeping up and outward—engulfing everything in sight—approaching the BMH building at an alarming rate—

 Alexander realized the severity of the situation much too late; there was a bombing happening in the heart of Cevron City, and the BMH building was directly in the blast zone. They had seconds.

 Aldric’s body went rigid, steeped in sheer shock as he watched the decimation pummel toward him—rocketing forward and shattering numerous windows—

 Alexander dove over Aldric, shielding and tackling his son just when the blast collided with the building—the windows exploding—every jar and beaker shattering instantly. Aldric’s arms were outstretched, unprotected from his father’s heroic move—the glass slicing his arms up and down as the two of them hit the floor with the force of a cannon ball. Dust and hot air filled the room as all of Alexander’s work was thrown about—many items smashing into the wall behind the father and son—liquids and strange substances splattering across the walls and floor. Aldric didn’t feel the liquid splashing onto him—his eyes were snapped shut, his mind blank and his body primed with adrenaline as his father lay motionless overtop of him.

 Eventually—after many offices and workrooms were destroyed, and after the explosion had ended—a grim, awful silence loomed over the decimated aftermath of the attack, and Aldric fell victim to his shock, the world fading black as he lay sprawled beneath his deathly still father, his arms bleeding profusely and burning from the liquids that had seeped into his wounds. As the shock and pain set in, his consciousness abandoned him entirely, and he knew no more.

   Ten years after the infamous bombing in Cevron City—hundreds of miles away from the BMH, deep in the American Colony—Evony Ackerman was on her way to begin her new life.

 The age of reptilian paranoia had all but died, though a few small movements arose to media fame in the past few years—protesters against human and reptilian violence, people who believed that reptilians shouldn’t be exterminated, despite the fact that the isolated terrorist attacks were on the rise.

 Evony herself never harbored any strong feelings about the whole ordeal, despite her own personal experiences related to the issues at hand.

 Many years ago, her mother left on an expedition with her unit in the American Military Force, never to return home—and now, just after her twenty-eighth birthday, she was forced to uproot from her hometown and move far south due to the rampant reptilian threats emerging in the city of Starrylake.

 Hours had passed since she and her father climbed into the old military truck, a vehicle meant to escort refugees out of the city. Evony sat in the back alongside the other passengers, her father seated beside her, and she didn’t speak a word for the majority of the ride, keeping her head down and allowing her smooth black bangs to tent over her face. Her hair was short, though the bangs were longer than the rest, usually combed to the side and covering her scar—though her comb-over seemed to be covering both of her eyes today, and she didn’t bother swiping the hairs aside. As of now, she much preferred to avoid the eyes of every refugee around her, as she wore a glum expression, lost to her thoughts and dwelling heavily on everything that had transpired.

 Most of her life had been fairly ordinary; she grew up in a cheap apartment like many people in the city of Starrylake, attending school and picking up the occasional after-school club or karate class. She had a few friends, a nice job as a martial arts instructor, and she had a normal relationship with her father—but now, her world had been shattered away in one fell swoop, and she could scarcely wrap her mind around it, even hours after the horrible event took place. Starrylake was one of the safest and most prolific places in the American Colony, a glorious city with a wonderful beach, a bombastic nightlife, and every first-world luxury one could dream of. The place had four seasons—unlike many places farther south in the continent of Concordia—and everything about it was as safe as it was wonderful.

 But today, when she and her father returned home from her birthday lunch, they witnessed the bombing of their apartment complex firsthand.

 The sight of it would never leave her mind, nor the horrific trembling beneath her feet and the mounds of dust shooting up from the cracks of her decimated home. The explosion destroyed her father’s car—ending and ruining several people’s lives—and now, Evony sat tiredly in the back of the truck, her thoughts diminishing into a cold series of recollections, merely replaying the terrible images of the event over and over. Thankfully, her father wasn’t harmed, and Evony walked away with only one minor injury, but this did little to comfort her now.

 As time passed, and as the truck carried them farther south and thumped over the occasional bump in the road, Evony’s recollections began to fade, as well as the grim thoughts attached. For the remainder of the ride, she remained lost amidst a cloud of calm, quiet shock, choosing to force every memory of Starrylake out of her mind—especially her last memory.

 Now, nothing existed except the sounds of the truck’s engine, the humps and bumps in the road, and the occasional whisper of chatter among the refugees in the back. Many of them wore grave faces, and the floor was cluttered with various bags and belongings that the refugees had scrounged together before departing their city. Starrylake was enormous and prosperous, a warmer climate than many places in Concordia, and many of these people didn’t expect to uproot so suddenly. In fact, this truck was only one of many that had recently left the north-western city, as the most recent bombing had left several folks homeless.

 After a while, Evony’s father wrapped an arm around her, sighing deeply as the two of them rode in silence. Like Evony, her father—Terian Ackerman—had black hair, though his was just long enough to tent over his ears and the back of his neck, combed neatly and sleekly backward. He had a somewhat wide face and large brown eyes, wearing a visage that looked more intense than he typically intended, his eyes a shiny black behind his rectangular glasses and his mouth always harboring a faint curl. Evony, however, preferred to hide behind her hair—especially now, with the pulsating scar marked upon her. Her eyes were as big and luminous as her father’s, though they sparkled the same silvery-blackish color her mother’s once had, both of her eyes fixed forward in a mile-long stare.

 “Nearly there, folks,” the driver called from the front, finally breaking the silence. “Be prepared… and if you got any extra layers to thrown on, you better do it now.”

 Terian and several other refugees glanced at the back of the driver seat, all of them thinking along similar lines. When Terian glimpsed down again, he saw that Evony hadn’t bothered breaking her deadpan glare, didn’t spare the driver a look and didn’t seem interested in the news whatsoever.

 “Not so bad,” Terian remarked, his voice deep and scratchy. He gave his daughter a gentle shake. “We’re going to Silverhollow. Your uncles are already there. We’re gonna have a better head start than most of the folks who got screwed over.”

 Many of the refugees raised their heads, narrowing their eyes grimly at him.

 Terian glanced between them, then gulped and cleared his throat. “No, uh… no offense.”

 “Silverhollow sounds like a hellhole,” Evony breathed, staring forward into nothingness. “It’s just some backwoods town covered in snow and ice…”

 Terian, despite it being anything from his strong suit, attempted to cheer her up. “We’ve been living on the beach in the sweltering sun all our lives—it’s about damn time for a change.”

 Evony slapped her hands onto her knees irritably, turning and glaring into her father. “Is this seriously a joke to you right now? We’re both out of work… all my friends just vanished outta my life… everything I know just got snatched away, and I… and everything just…”

 “I know,” Terian insisted, his smile fading. “That’s why we very, very much need to focus on the positive right now.”

 “What’s positive?” Evony challenged. “Name one positive thing about this.”

 “Okay—you get to see your uncles again,” Terian stated. “You get to escape the heat, which you always complained about, and you might even get to meet the founder of Azarias Industries. He lives in Silverhollow, and he owns the Silver Peaks place. You could get a job there.”

 “The hell is Silver Peaks…?”

 “It’s that massive fancy mansion that’s always on the news in winter… that place where all the important people gather up for a month-long convention every December. Osric Azarias hosts that whole thing.”

 “I thought Osric Azarias was an inventor…?”

 “He is, but he lives in Silverhollow now. It is possible for someone to be an inventor and a business owner at the same time…”

 Evony scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Smartass.”

 Terian smirked and patted her on the back, and she managed a dry laugh.

 The two of them paused for a moment, and then, Evony’s mind began to wander. She turned to her father again, this time looking more curious than distraught.

 “Do you think Osric has a bunch of his own inventions in Silver Peaks?” Evony wondered. “Like… the robots…”

 “Probably,” Terian shrugged. “But he probably still needs manpower, too. December is only a month away, and he’s gonna need employers when that convention comes around. You should see if he’s hiring.”

 “What about you?” Evony asked. “How are you gonna get a job? I mean… are you gonna be able to keep doing what you do?”

 Terian sighed, running a hand down his face and pausing to think. “Well… every town has a newspaper, even the backwoods ones. Somebody probably has use for a writer here. And I’m gonna keep writing my own books, too. Yes.”

 “Yeah… but you might have to stop writing about crazy stuff if you start writing for a paper here,” Evony pointed out. “If you work for a new place, they probably won’t let you write about conspiracy theories all the time.”

 Terian turned and squinted oddly at her.

 Evony chuckled and shook her head, looking away and folding her arms. For years now, most cities and towns amidst the American Colony spread whispers and rumors about the conflicts between humans and reptilians—and the most interesting story of all was the legend of the green man, a so-called hybrid between human and reptile, a vigilante with extraordinary abilities. Some believed the green man was a hero who intended to stop reptilian terrorism, but others believed the green man was a treacherous abomination who worked alongside the worst of the reptilian extremists. The story of the hybrid vigilante was probably the most ridiculous one Evony had ever heard, but her opinion never stopped her ambitious father from writing about the legendary green man.

 “There’s a lot going on in the world,” Terian said in a soft, serious tone. “A lot more than they ever show on the news…”

 “I don’t care,” Evony grumbled dismissively, frowning and glaring forward again.

 Terian released a heavy sigh, sparing his daughter a deflated sort of look.

 The truck then slowed to a full stop. Moments later, the driver popped the back doors open, allowing a gust of icy air into the vehicle. Evony and many other refugees instantly cradled themselves, shivering as the cold air of Silverhollow washed over them. One by one, the refugees climbed out of the vehicle, collecting their bags and stepping onto the snowy curb. Evony and Terian were the last to step out, Evony wearing her jean purse, Terian carrying only his suitcase from his old job. They all paused, gazing past the vehicle and observing the town of Silverhollow for the first time.

 Snow coated the ground as far as the eye could see; directly ahead of them and farther down the road, the town sat nestled in a wide opening between a gigantic mountain and a thick collection of snow-covered trees. The great mountain overlooked the town from the south, and the smaller mountain on the opposite side was the one covered in miles of snowy pine trees. The town itself was a small gathering of buildings that were nothing like those from Starrylake—no apartment complexes or skyscrapers in sight. To the west, they were just able to see many houses far away from the heart of town, some sitting alone amidst acres of snowy land, others perched on the mountainsides. Directly north, up the tree-covered mountain, Evony spotted the most impressive building of them all—an enormous white structure with various towers and turrets, almost like a new-age castle. It was just barely in eyeshot, and a long narrow pathway stretched down the mountain from the castle-like building, reaching beneath an elegant archway and leading into town. The archway displayed a sign, reading in Old English letters SILVER PEAKS.

 “Those of you with nowhere to go—report to the shelter on the south side of town,” the driver instructed, giving them all a wave and heading toward the driver door of his vehicle. “Good luck to all of you.”

 The refugees said their goodbyes, and the truck rolled away. In the moments after, the group of refugees began to split apart, some of them with destinations, others left with no choice but to seek out the town’s homeless shelter. Evony and Terian remained standing on the side of the street, gazing across town and admiring the grand castle of Silver Peaks in the distance.

 “Looks about right,” Terian determined, nodding at the distant castle. “Considering how eccentric the man is…”

 “What?” Evony gave her father a double-take, shivering and narrowing her eyes at him.

 Terian made a sideways nod. “Well, that guy… Osric… he’s a genius, but he’s also insane. ‘Course he built himself a castle to retire in. Sounds about right for him.”

 “Great,” Evony grumped. “What about our place…?”

 “Al and Manny got it ready for us… well, best they could at such short notice,” Terian informed. “Place is a bit dilapidated, but we’re gonna work to fix it up. Only has two bedrooms, though…”

 “Where are we supposed to sleep, then?”

 “They’ve got a basement and an attic. Which one do you want?”

 “The attic, I guess…”

 The two of them conversed as they marched away from the street, wading through the snow and kicking it aside with every step. As they headed toward the center of town, Evony stole several glimpses of the buildings in passing—a post office, Laundromat, restaurant, thrift store, and gun shop. Unlike Starrylake, the roads weren’t cluttered with traffic, occupied only by the occasional passing vehicle. Pedestrians wore thick scarves and jackets rather than the fashionable tightly-fitted shirts and shorts Evony had seen on the streets of Starrylake, and she and her father managed to pass through town after only about ten minutes of walking.

 Once they left the heart of town, Terian led Evony toward an old cabin on the mountainside, just up the hill down south. The cabin appeared to be one of the older buildings of the town, and there was only one window in the front, the roof tall and pointed, coated in a fluffy canopy of snow. The front porch was elongated and rectangular with a slanted wooden roof hanging over it, and the porch overlooked the hillside and the slender winding pathway leading up to the house.  Evony’s uncles, Alejandro and Manuel, owned an old green oldsmobile that sat in the garage of the cabin, and the front door swung open the moment she and her father stepped onto the porch’s rickety wooden floor.

 Terian’s brothers-in-law were both huskier than him; while Terian had an averagely thick figure, Alejandro was even chubbier, and Manuel was the roundest and widest of the three. Both of Evony’s uncles were wearing their worn jeans and a couple of baggy shirts, Alejandro wearing an orange sports jersey and Manuel sporting a huge Hawaiian shirt. Both of them grinned, yanking Terian into a hug and laughing bombastically. Evony stood behind her father, managing a smile as she watched their reunion.

 “Tirry!” Alejandro exclaimed. “It’s about damn time, motherfucker!”

 “Hey-ey, Tirry and Evvy!” Manuel beamed. “Bring it in!”

 Terian allowed his brothers-in-law to hug him, then quickly stepped back, scrunching up his face and swatting them away. “My God in Heaven… you stink!”

 “Yeah—that’s what happens when you work,” Alejandro snarked. “Fixed the hole in the roof, and now we’re workin’ on the bathroom floor. Get your ass in here and help.”

 “I just got here,” Terian replied with a vacant laugh.

 Manuel pushed past the others and trapped Evony in a bearlike embrace. Evony graciously returned the hug, instantly feeling the damp spot in his back.

 Her father was right; both of her uncles were drenched in sweat. The two of them used to work in construction, but after being evicted from their apartment a while back, they used their savings to purchase this property in Silverhollow—and it was lucky that they had, because without this cabin, Evony and Terian would have nowhere to go now.

 “Move it. Let me in,” Terian urged, shooing his in-laws back into the house. “Evony—are you planning to help now?”

 “No—you guys have fun,” Evony told her family. “Somebody’s gotta bring some money in. I need to go look for a job.”

 “’Ey—Evony—Jack at the repair shop might need another pair of hands,” Alejandro informed her. “I’m only workin’ for him part time, but he’s about to lay someone else off.”

 “I don’t know anything about repairing stuff, dingleberry,” Evony snarked. “I’m gonna check on that Silver Peak place… and maybe grab a jacket from the store. It’s freaking freezing here…”

 “Evony,” Terian uttered, stepping halfway into the house and meeting her eyes over his shoulder. “You sure you don’t wanna come inside first? At least to check out your room…?”

 “I’m good,” Evony replied, turning on her heel and waving them off. “I’ll be back later.”

 At that, Evony marched away, hearing the front door of the new Ackerman home creak shut behind her. As she wandered the town, hugging herself and repressing the occasional shiver, her mind drifted farther and farther from the events of the recent past. Evony’s attention was taken entirely by her surroundings—the way the icy fluff sparkled against the weak sunlight, the rural snow-tipped buildings on either side of her, and the heavenly scent of meat emitting from the nearest restaurant. This was exactly what she needed—space away from people and thoughts, walking freely with nobody around to remind her of her worries. All there was now was the new southern town of Silverhollow, its beauty a direct contrast from the Oceanside city of Starrylake, a brand new place with plenty to discover and a fresh start to be had.

 Evony decided to spare no further thought to the events in Starrylake—she brandished an interested smile, surveying several outfits inside the thrift store before settling on a sleek leather jacket, a black one with several studs and zippers. As of now, she only had her final paycheck from her old job—she’d only just gotten paid before her apartment was destroyed. She’d have to make the money last, of course, but she needed some warmer clothes for this new cold environment. So, she also purchased a pair of gloves and a thick blue scarf, raveling it around herself as she walked out the door. Evony smirked, feeling much better now that she was wrapped in the warm embrace of her new scarf and jacket, adjusting the gloves on her hands and heading toward the wonderful scent of the diner.

 Unlike the thrift store, the interior of the diner was a bit louder and more active; Evony strolled inside, the doors making a faint ching-a-ling, glimpsing around and noticing several things.

 The diner was themed to fit the 1950s, long neon lights at the top of the walls, a large clock displayed on the wall farthest left, which was decorated with the same bright blue lighting. To the right, a 3DTV was protruding from the wall, showing a news broadcast from the reporters in Starrylake, who were still discussing the most recent terror attack. Directly ahead, there was a line at the front counter, and Evony meandered toward it without thinking, suddenly acting out of hunger. Three girls were chattering in front of Evony, all of them giving the 3DTV several glances as they spoke. Evony turned, following their trails of vision and listening to the news broadcast.

 “… from the bombing earlier today,” the reporter woman was saying. “The AMF escorted the uninjured survivors out of the city directly after the attack. The incident is believed to be the work of Alazar’s Army, the reptilian extremist group who claimed responsibility for the shooting in Harrison County two months ago. While the reptilian resistance is known to use fire-based weaponry, their attacks are still referred to as shootings by Congressman Gerald Marcus. Gerald could not be reached for comment today, but Mayor Jason Carrington made a statement only hours ago, revealing the congress’s plan to bring several new bills to light, hoping to pass more restrictive laws on traveling between the north and south and the purchasing of all weaponry in the northern region, both human firearms and reptilian weapons. More after this commercial break…”

 Evony squinted at the screen as she listened. The 3DTV—a common television in today’s society, one of many inventions from Osric’s illustrious company—depicted an incredibly realistic image, first showing the street Evony used to live on, then switching to old footage of reptilian extremists from Alazar’s Army. The footage of the reptilians was much less comprehensible, popping out of the screen in fuzzy jerky motions, as most of this footage was probably captured VIA camera phone. The reptilians were the same size as humans, shaped the same as well, but their skin was noticeably thicker and harder, dark green and scaly in a way no human’s ever could be. Their heads had sharper definitions, with many blunt square or triangular features, and all reptilians had small horns growing from their foreheads. The horns were thin and black, and they usually grew backward, which reminded Evony of her father’s slicked-back hairstyle. She’d never seen a reptilian in person before, but she always found the footage of them fairly interesting. They all spoke, wore ordinary clothes, and used tools and weapons as well as any ordinary person could. Even though reptilians had lived in secret up until a few centuries ago, it seemed they were no less intelligent than human beings.

 Evony turned away from the three-dimensional screen, eyeing the front counter again and inhaling a great whiff of the wonderful aromas from the kitchen. The three girls in front of her were all trading glimpses now. The thinnest and prettiest of the three—a girl with wavy brunet hair held back with a diamond-studded headband—wore a cold and caustic expression, poking her mouth out and huffing irritably at the 3DTV.

 “Reps,” the brunet girl scowled, shaking her head.

 The second girl was tiny with short blonde hair, which was considerably messier than either of her counterparts. She spun around and gave the brunet girl a surprised look.

 “That’s racist,” the tiny blonde breathed.

 “No, it’s not—because Reps aren’t a race,” the brunet girl snarled in response. “They’re just a buncha animals. They’re not people.”

 The third girl nodded in agreement; she was the tallest of the three, with straight brown hair tied back into a ponytail.

 Evony peered past them, trying not to eavesdrop, though she couldn’t help it.

 “I get what you mean, but they’re technically considered people,” the blonde murmured sheepishly, her eyes shifting warily between her two friends. “I mean, like… they’re legally considered near-human intelligence, so… they have the same rights as us, Bellura.”

 The pretty brunet girl, Bellura, turned so quickly that her hair whipped aside, flying over one of her shoulders. She glared into her blonde friend as if she’d just been slapped across the face.

 “They shouldn’t have the same rights as us,” Bellura snapped. “You know why? Because those things are killing random people—and they’re the reason that my father has to house a buncha stupid worthless refugees.”

 Bellura’s friends merely stared at her in response—and Evony, standing close behind them, felt a stab of anger shoot through her chest. She began leering into the back of Bellura’s head without realizing it, suddenly more aware of the stinging pain on the side of her face, her hand coiling into a fist.

 “Bellura… those people are victims,” the blonde girl told her friend. “And fellow Americans…”

 “Yeah—I know that, Cally,” Bellura quipped icily. “But it’s their problem. Not ours. Besides, this town isn’t big enough to support all those people—and you just know most of them are gonna kick back and mooch off the government the entire time they’re here. They’re gonna get nutritional pass cards and unemployment checks, they’re gonna take money out of our community, and they’re gonna suck the damn life out of my father’s town. It’s disgusting.”

 “You’re disgusting,” Evony grumbled under her breath.

 “But they can’t help it,” the blonde named Cally insisted. “You’re acting like they’re not even worth the time of day just because they lost their homes.”

 “That’s because they’re not,” Bellura said firmly, her shiny hazel eyes burning into Cally, her nostrils flaring. “Some people are important and some people aren’t. Simple as that.”

“What makes them not important?” Cally challenged, her tone rising.

 Bellura rounded on her. “Hm, well, let’s see—they’re not helping our society in any way, shape, or form. They’re mooching off our society. They’re weighing the rest of us down—which makes them useless compared to everyone else.”

 “Yeah—not to mention, they’re all gonna use this bombing as an excuse not to work anymore,” the brown-haired girl finally spoke up. “Which is what makes them worth less than the rest of us.”

 “Trisha—you don’t even work!” Cally exclaimed, waving wildly at the brown-haired Trisha.

 “I don’t have to work yet,” Trisha replied snidely. “My parents own the biggest firearms business in the southern region, and I’m gonna inherit all of that. My work life is already planned out.”

 “I thought your brother was gonna inherit the business?” Cally uttered, squinting curiously at Trisha. “He seems like he wants to…”

 Trisha scoffed in the loudest, most obnoxious way Evony had ever heard.

 “That chubby piece of shit can’t run a business!” Trisha cackled. “No—my parents know which one of us is the responsible one. The Second Amendment Munitions Corporation is gonna be mine, and no one else’s.”

 “Really? When was the last time you even talked to Javari?” Cally asked. “Because last time I talked to your brother, he was pretty damn sure he was gonna inherit the company.”

 “You know I don’t like talking to him anymore,” Trisha grumbled coldly, swiping her ponytail back and folding her arms. “He’s running that sleazy underground club now. It’s gross down there…”

 Evony finally broke her glare, tearing her eyes from Bellura and pondering on everything the other two had said. Out of all three, Cally seemed to be the only remotely likable girl in the group—and admittedly, Evony found herself intrigued by this underground club. It sounded like an atmosphere that would be free of these wealthy entitled types. Perhaps she’d pay it a visit someday soon.

 “Okay, well… what about you?” Cally wondered, facing Bellura again.

 Bellura blinked. “What about me?”

 “You don’t have a job, either,” Cally pointed out. “But you keep talking bad about all these refugees because they don’t have jobs…”

 “I’m the mayor’s daughter, Cally,” Bellura smiled pompously. “My job is to keep up appearances and make statements to the cameras… until I become the mayor.”

 “God for-fucking-bid,” Evony growled softly.

 Then—Bellura whirled around, locking eyes with Evony and making her heart skip. Trisha and Cally both stared at Evony as well, making her instantly regret opening her mouth.

 “Excuse me?” Bellura snarled, cocking her head and raising her brows.

 “Nothing,” Evony uttered, swallowing her irritation. “Talking to myself.”

 “You better be,” Bellura scolded, her eyes narrowing into slits. “I don’t even know you—and I know pretty much everybody in Silverhollow. Who are you?”

 “Bellura, come on… stop it,” Cally urged, but Bellura ignored her, continuing to fume into Evony as she expectantly awaited an answer.

 Evony’s heart began to pound, her dark silvery eyes tracing along every inch of Bellura’s pale, beautiful face, which was dripping with offense and perturbation. Gulping and gritting her teeth, Evony tried her best to bury her temper, forcing herself to remain composed. She’d give anything to give this spoiled brat a good punch in the mouth, but it was her first day in Silverhollow—and shattering the teeth of the mayor’s daughter would probably be a poor way to start her new life here.

 “Well?” Bellura demanded. “Are you gonna answer me? Who are you?”

 “I’m new in town,” Evony answered, repressing her agitation.

 “Oh, really—you’re new in town, and you’re commenting on me becoming the mayor here?” Bellura hissed, inching closer and glaring daringly into Evony’s eyes. “What the hell makes you think you have the right?”

 “The American Colony of Concordia was founded by our ancestors from the United States—which entails the freedom of speech throughout the colony in its entirety,” Evony stated, her voice rising. “So—I can say whatever the hell I want.”

 “Just because you have the freedom to say whatever you want doesn’t mean you have the right to say whatever you want,” Bellura griped.

 “That’s exactly what that means,” Evony snapped in response. “What are you, stupid?”

 Just then, Evony’s head jerked to the side—an echoing slap made everyone in the diner fall silent, and Evony was left with a burning stinging sensation in her cheek. Bellura raised her hand threateningly, as if she was about to deliver a second smack—but Evony lost her temper, reaching out and clasping the girl by the throat.

 Cally screamed and covered her face. Trisha’s mouth fell open, and all the other customers merely watched in shock.

 Burella began throwing her fists wildly, smacking Evony’s arm and trying to break free, but to no avail. Evony scowled at her, a million taijitsu moves flashing through her mind, but she did none of them. Instead, she placed a foot behind Burella’s ankle, then lunged forward and forced the girl to trip—Burella fell to the ground, releasing a breathless whimper and clasping her neck. She flung her now messy hairs out of her face, combing it back frantically and glaring up at Evony, positively fuming.

 Evony blew her bangs out of her eyes, flashing a brief cold smirk and feeling a surge of satisfaction. Seconds later, a slow dread began to take its place—she’d assaulted the mayor’s daughter, after all, and God only knew what consequences might come from this incident. Nevertheless, Evony maintained her powerful disposition, glaring down at Burella with a deep, searing leer.

 “I don’t care who you are—or who your daddy is,” Evony glowered. “Don’t ever put your fucking hands on me.”

 All eyes were on Evony and Bellura now; Bellura staggered to her feet, huffing a furious breath and advancing toward Evony again. Then, Evony took a fighting stance, making Burella halt mid-step.

 There was a long, tense pause. Evony kept her professional stance solid, and Burella scanned her up and down, seeming to realize that her opponent was well-trained for these situations. She stared hesitantly into Evony’s eyes, inching forward and plastering on the nastiest expression she could muster.

 “I don’t care what kind of kung-fu you know,” Burella seethed, her eyes blazing a fiery gold. “Your stupid karate crap is not gonna help you in this town—because I have power here, and you’re not gonna get away with pissing me off.”

 “Oh, is that right?” Evony breathed with a smirk. “Because I think I just did.”

 Bellura loomed closer, barely an inch away from Evony, their eyes locked in a hot, angry stare.

 Then, Bellura’s eyes flicked to the side, spotting the thin, fresh scar on the side of Evony’s face.

 “Watch your back,” Bellura threatened. “Ugly bitch.”

 At that, Bellura shoved past Evony, bashing into her shoulder and storming out of the diner. Trisha hurried after her, sparing Evony a nasty scowl in passing. After the two of them left, Cally remained behind, releasing a cloud of breath and trading glances with Evony. Everyone else in the diner slowly began to avert their eyes, all except Cally, who was giving Evony a somber sort of stare.

 Then, Cally spotted something at her feet—a mangled black headband, complete with a line of diamonds down the middle. Cally bent down and collected it off the floor, then met Evony’s gaze again.

 The two girls hesitated, and the young clerk behind the counter was eyeing them both, as they were next in line. Seconds after, Cally let slip a half-smile, tossing the diamond-studded headband over to Evony.

 Evony caught it, surveying it closely and giving the blonde an odd look.

 “Keep it,” Cally said with a shrug. “She has seven. Won’t even notice it’s gone.”

 Evony stared down at the expensive accessory for a moment, then made a sideways nod and pocketed it. Cally turned to face the counter, waving for Evony to join her.

 “Sorry about her,” Cally uttered, reading over the menu on the wall. “She’s always been a freaking sociopath.”

 “I figured,” Evony mumbled, glimpsing between the menu and the tiny girl beside her. “Why do you hang out with her…?”

 Cally shrugged again. “Not a lot of options in this town. The only reason I hang out with them is because Trisha is my best friend’s sister. Plus, I grew up with them, so…”

 “Right… makes sense,” Evony said. “So… I overheard that your friend owns an underground club? Did I hear that right?”

 “Oh hell yeah,” Cally grinned at her. “That’s my favorite part of Silverhollow. Take a wild guess what the club’s called.”

 “I really have no idea…”

 “The club is called the Silver Hollow.”

 Evony stared blankly at her. “Seriously?”

 Cally laughed and nodded. “It’s literally underground, and it’s covered in snow, just like everywhere else—so I guess the name fits. I thought it was stupid because it’s too on-the-nose. Javari thinks it’s perfect because it’s too on-the-nose.”

 “That’s funny…”

 “You like hittin’ the clubs?”

 “Eh,” Evony mumbled. “Kinda. I’m not really that social, to be honest…”

 “Well, then.” Cally stood on her toes and draped an arm around Evony. “I shall teach you my ways, new girl.”

 Evony let out a nervous laugh, slowly ducking out of her grasp.

 “Cally—what do you want?” the clerk asked impatiently.

 “Oh, I don’t know yet. You go first,” Cally insisted, nudging Evony toward the counter.

 Evony was gaping up at the menu, reading off the bizarre foods and feeling utterly at a loss. There were many strange meals and various types of meats—elk, deer, and even polar bear. The foods of the south were totally foreign to her.

 “Just… give me a few of the cheapest things on the menu,” Evony decided.

 “That would be seal-ka-bobs,” the clerk nodded and punched the buttons on the cash register.

 Evony took back. “You eat seals here?!”

 “Of course,” the clerk replied simply. “They’re overpopulated and delicious. So yeah. We do.”

 Cally took the liberty of ordering the same thing. Once the seal-ka-bobs were ready, the clerk handed the girls a large collection of elongated aluminum wrappings, containing all their seal-ka-bobs and smelling wonderfully of fried meat and fat. Evony turned away and peeled the aluminum back, squinting skeptically at the blobs of meat on the stick. It was unlike any food she’d ever seen before—as Starrylake had mostly ordinary seafood and beef products—but it smelled incredibly appetizing.

 After paying for their food, the two girls stepped out of the diner, greeted by a gust of ice cold wind. Evony and Cally strolled down the side of the snowy road, Cally munching on her seal-ka-bobs happily while Evony continued staring untrustingly into her own. She decided to slip them into her bag and save them for later.

 “What’s your name?” Cally wondered.

 “Ahm… Evony,” Evony replied.

 “Cool. I’m Cally,” Cally said, wheeling around and walking backward, offering her hand.

 Evony returned the handshake.

 “Are you a refugee?” Cally asked her. “Just curious.”

 “Kinda,” Evony answered. “I have family here, so… I don’t know what I’d be considered.”

 “Well… did you come here because of the bombing in Starrylake?”

 “Yeah. I did.”

 Cally opened her mouth to speak, then fell silent, eyeing the fresh scar around Evony’s left eye, mostly covered by her combed-over bangs, slender and crooked, still pink and fleshy, as it had been inflicted fairly recently. Her expression diminished, and she whirled around to walk normally again.

 “Oh…” Cally exhaled.

 Evony narrowed her eyes at Cally. “You don’t have to be sensitive about it or anything. I didn’t lose anyone in that attack… unlike most of the other people there…”

 “Yeah, but… that just happened,” Cally said, giving her a serious stare. “That just happened earlier today. I can’t imagine what’s going through your head. I bet you saw the whole thing, didn’t you?”

 Evony slowly nodded, gently grazing her scar for a moment. “Yeah… and the explosion got me a little bit right here. It’s not a big deal, though. Not for me.”

 “Really?” Cally gasped. “How can you just walk it off like it’s nothing?”

 Evony shrugged, pocketing her hands and staring directly forward as she walked. “I don’t know. I was pretty shook up earlier, but… now I’m just… not feeling anything.”

 “You’re not feeling anything?” Cally uttered in slight disbelief. “Why?”

 “Because there’s… no point,” Evony resolved. “There’s no point in freaking out about something that’s totally beyond my control. All I can do is walk it off and carry on. So I am.”

 “Wow,” Cally breathed, revealing a smile. “You sound like a military chick.”

 Evony scoffed out a laugh. “Nah. That was my mom, not me.”

 “Your mom was in the military?”

 “Yeah… long time ago.”

 “You ever think about joining the military yourself?”

 “Nope.”

 “Why not?”

 “Because… there’s no point,” Evony told her, meeting her eyes. “Nothing I do is gonna stop all the world’s problems. So… I don’t see the point in trying.”

 Cally slowed to a stop, giving her a long, solemn stare.

 Evony paused and shot her an odd squint. “What?”

 “Nothing,” Cally sighed. “That’s just… like… a really depressing way to think.”

 “I guess… but it’s true,” Evony said dismissively. “Nothing I can do about it.”

 She began to march on, and after a moment of hesitation, Cally caught up with her.

 “Hey, y’know—just because you can’t fix all the world’s problems doesn’t mean you can’t fix some of them,” Cally told her.

 Evony didn’t reply.

 Cally frowned at her. “Hey, chick, listen to me—after what you just did to Bellura, I find it really hard to believe that you’re half as hopeless as you sound.”

 “It’s not hopeless,” Evony said emptily. “Just realistic.”

 “Oh yeah?” Cally said challengingly. “Then what about the green man? He can’t fix all the world’s problems, either—but he does everything he can, and it makes a difference.”

 Evony shot her a strange glance. “That’s just a legend.”

 “No—he’s real,” Cally beamed. “Hell—there’re pictures of him online, too. Most of them are kinda blurry and really far away, but still. He’s definitely real.”

 “Listen…” Evony sighed heavily, beginning to grow exhausted by the conversation. “I get that you like to believe in things, and that’s cool—but that’s not me. Okay?”

 “But the green man is different! I’m not talking about aliens or anything—I’m talking about something that’s been proven!” Cally stated. “People have seen him! People have caught him on camera! He’s definitely—”

 “Dude, what difference does it make?!” Evony griped. “Even if he is real, nobody even knows what his deal is. Nobody knows what his name is, or what his species is, or whose side he’s on—nobody knows anything about him. Not even my dad, and he wrote about the green man every week in the Starrylake Inquiry.”

 “Okay, okay… I get it,” Cally uttered in defeat. “I just think that’s a waste.”

 Evony perked an eyebrow at her. “What’s a waste…?”

 “You,” Cally said flatly. “You’re a total freaking badass—but that defeatist mentality totally ruins it.”

 Evony inhaled a deep, thoughtful breath, sharing an intense stare with Cally on the corner of Silverhollow’s main road. After a moment of tension, Cally released a heavy sigh, which was visible as a tiny cloud in the icy air.

 “Okay—rewind,” Cally said suddenly, shaking her head and extending her hand. “I wanna make friends outside my bitchy circle, so let’s start over. Sorry if I got under your skin.”

 “It’s fine,” Evony exhaled, shaking her hand again. “I just don’t usually talk to anyone about that stuff. I don’t usually talk to anyone about anything, honestly…”

 “Then you’re not used to it,” Cally figured. “I think you need a friend as much as I do.”

 “Maybe,” Evony shrugged.

 “Well… I have to head home,” Cally remembered, glancing at the sky. “It’s gonna be dark in an hour or so. Do you have a phone? Wanna trade numbers?”

 “Yeah, sure.”

 The girls pulled out their phones and exchanged phone numbers, then pocketed the phones and straightened up.

 “I’ll text you,” Cally told her. “We’re gonna hang out at the Silver Hollow sometime soon. You cool with that?”

 “Yeah—but I have a question before you go,” Evony recalled. “Do you ever go to that Silver Peaks place? Do you know if they’re hiring?”

 Cally smirked coyly. “I’m one of the cooks there. I know for a fact they’re hiring.”

 “No shit?” Evony breathed, cracking a hopeful smile. “You work there?”

 “Yeah, I’ve worked there since I got out of school,” Cally answered. “They’re not hiring any cooks, but… I know they’re hiring general maintenance workers. People who clean the rooms, and do the laundry, and all the general stuff. It’s only part time right now, but it’s gonna turn full time when it’s December.”

 “Oh man,” Evony grinned, instantly fascinated. “Have you ever met him? Osric Azarias—have you ever met the guy?”

 “A few times,” Cally replied. “He’s completely insane… but the dude’s loveable as hell.”

 “That’s so cool… how do I apply to work there? Can I pick up an application right now?”

 “Sure. Just be careful who you talk to. Some of the people in town are… kinda assholes,” Cally mumbled, her smile waning. “Some people here think a lot like Bellura does.”

 Evony stared at her questioningly. “Meaning what…?”

 “Meaning… they don’t like the idea of refugees coming here and taking the jobs,” Cally explained. “Even though they’re the same people who complain about refugees not working. Granted, those people aren’t the majority, but still. A few of them do work at Silver Peaks, and they’re just as assholeish as Bellura is.”

 Evony nodded, pondering on the mayor’s daughter and feeling a sickened lump forming in her stomach. She took a deep breath and spoke on.

 “Speaking of her,” Evony said softly. “Does she… I mean… do you have any idea what she’s gonna do now?”

 Cally raised her brows. “About what? You choke-slamming her?”

 “Yeah,” Evony exhaled.

 “She’s not the type to call the cops, and she’s not gonna run to her daddy with this, either,” Cally assured, though her expression was anything but reassuring. “She never draws attention to anything that humiliates her. No… with that stuff, she doesn’t get attention… she just gets even.”

 Evony stared at her. “How?”

 Cally met her gaze, her visage now heavy with perturbation. When she spoke again, her voice had taken on an unsettlingly grave tone.

 “She is evil,” Cally hissed. “Her and Trisha both are. Trust me. Just stay away from them.”

Evony gulped and gave her a nod.

 “Okay… well… go get your new job,” Cally said conclusively, offering her a smile again. “I’m gonna go home. Night, Evony.”

 “Night, Cally. Nice meeting you.”

 “You too!”

 The girls said their goodbyes and waved each other off. Evony slowly slid her hand back into her pocket, watching until the tiny blonde girl was out of her sight. Then, she inhaled an anxious breath, turning on her heel and facing the road leading north—the one that stretched up the mountainside, under the grand archway and right up to the Silver Peaks castle.

 As she walked in silence, the air nipping at her nose, Evony’s composure finally made a full return, and she pondered quietly on the hectic events of the day. All her life, every day was basically the same—going to school or work, going to her dojos, going out to restaurants, and going home. But today, that life of normality was gone with no warning, and now she was in a completely different kind of place, enduring a temperature she’d never experienced before after making quick friends and enemies of a few of the townspeople. And now, as she drew steadily nearer to the towering Silver Peaks up the mountain, her heart began to pound nervously for several different reasons—she couldn’t shake the gnawing anxiety leftover from Cally’s words, that Bellura and Trisha were evil, sociopaths who sought to get even with anyone who wronged them. The two girls might plan to retaliate against Evony in the future—and not only that, but now, Evony was marching toward the homestead of the greatest inventor of the age, someone who was famous throughout the American Colony and beyond, and she was about to apply for a job at his bizarre new-age castle. There were plenty of things to be nervous about.

 Evony glanced up at the magnificent sign hanging over her head from the archway, then continued onward, approaching a wide set of marble stairs. The enormous shiny stairs led up to a large pair of double-doors, which were decorated with glistening silver frames, the windows a faint sparkling greenish color. After slowly heading up the stairs, Evony swallowed, took a deep breath, and pushed the doors open, stepping into an enormous lobby as a blast of warm, welcoming air washed over her.

 The room was larger than most gymnasiums she’d seen, and far more impressive; directly ahead was a long thin counter, where a skinny stringy-haired boy was standing and typing away on a laptop. Behind him was a massive wall containing various paintings and portraits, and at the top was the mounted head of a white stag, its antlers reaching upward and almost grazing the ceiling. At either side of this giant wall were two rounded staircases leading up to a balcony that overlooked the gigantic lobby, and to the left and right were two huge doorways, both of them lined with silver frames much like the entrance. A light gray rug covered much of the spotless tiled floor, and Evony hesitantly stepped onto it, feeling as if she might taint the beautiful color with her snowy, dirt-spotted shoes.

 After a moment of admiring the décor and the sheer enormity of the interior, Evony wandered closer to the counter, her eyes fixating on the skinny boy behind it. She leaned on the countertop and waited for him to acknowledge her, but he never did. The boy continued typing away for nearly a full minute as if he was still alone in the room.

 “Hey,” Evony finally spoke up. “Could I possibly get an application?”

 The skinny boy’s hands froze over his keyboard, his hairs dangling over his gaunt, expressionless visage. Slowly, he raised his head, and he gave Evony a look no one would mistake for a friendly one.

 “I don’t know,” the boy uttered in a hushed, sarcastic tone. “Could you possibly get fucked?”

 Evony’s heart jolted angrily. “Excuse me?”

 “Listen… I know this is probably hard for a feral vagrant to understand, but we adhere to a certain level of class in this establishment,” the skinny boy snarled nastily at her. “Which means… no scar-faced refugees. Get out.”

 Evony became livid in an instant, thoroughly fed up with the level of disrespect she’d gotten today. But—just when she opened her mouth to release every curse word she knew—another voice spoke first.

 “Michael Landry!” someone exclaimed from behind.

 The skinny boy—Michael—jumped and jerked his head upward, looking suddenly horrorstricken. Evony spun around, seeing that a third person had just entered the room from the right hall.

 The moment she laid eyes upon him, her breath went thin—she’d rarely ever seen him on television, but somehow, she knew exactly who he was.

 The man was of average height, somewhat slim and wearing a long, elegant overcoat. The overcoat was a lush dark crimson color, and beneath it was a black suit-like outfit, big silver buttons up and down the front, a zip-up collar halfway undone at his throat. A large silver watch hung from around his neck, and he wore a tall black hat that was large enough to hide a rabbit. His pants were black and pinstriped with silver, and his hair was short and ginger, wavy and combed back behind his ears, several of his hairs poking outright in a stylishly messy fashion. His pale, charming face harbored a simple smile, and his eyes were covered by large black eyewear, an odd accessory that appeared to be some strange combination of round glasses and pitch-black goggles. He sauntered forward with his black-and-silver cane, twirling it around his fingers and eyeing Michael intently behind his dark lenses.

 “Michael… Landry… shame on you,” Osric Azarias muttered in a hissing sort of voice, jabbing his cane at Michael. “No wonder I can’t find any employees when I need ‘em. Shame, shame, shame on you.”