The intersection at the east end of Brock St. swarms with angry people and cars, all fixated on the seemingly empty zebra crossing. Some curse, others throw objects, and a few threaten to ram through—different reactions with varying extremes, yet all focused on a single point.

At the center of this chaos lies a young man, sprawled casually across the zebra crossing, holding a rapidly melting ice cream cone. His face is hidden behind a mask and he sports an oversized red hoodie, a horizontally striped black-and-white inner shirt, brown khakis, and bright red shoes. His overgrown jet-black hair spreads beneath his head like a pool of blood against his tanned skin.

Unbothered by the hostility, a ring pierces through one of his many short pockets. He retrieves his phone, only to face an immediate verbal assault from the caller.

"Fuck it, Mikael, I've been trying to reach you for thirty minutes! Where are you? The meet's been going for almost an hour!"

He releases a heavy sigh. "I'm on my way, Chica."

Before she can finish her tirade, he ends the call and rises. The crowd collectively exhales as he approaches the first man—who had been ready to strike him—and hands over his melting ice cream. The man stares in confusion, ready to curse, but Mikael has already vanished, leaping into the horizon.

This is Mikael Chen, a 19-year-old Winnower, member of the Society of Winnowers, and notorious troublemaker in the small town of Anominé.

A short while later, he arrives at a hillside. He slips one arm through the seemingly solid mass of stone before walking through entirely. Instead of rock formations, a grandiose hallway greets him, overlooking a large ballroom with a round table surrounded by various figures.

While surveying the scene with obvious boredom, Mikael startles as Chica Kent materializes behind him.

"What kept you for an hour? And why make me wait ninety minutes to talk?" Chica's voice drips with exasperation. She cups his cheek, turning his face toward hers for inspection. Satisfied, she nods. "You're okay now, right? Weren't dwelling on it again, were you?"

Mikael sighs. "Let's get this over with. Where is she?"

A much older woman, bearing a strong resemblance to him, appears behind Chica. "How nice of you to finally join us, Mikael. I didn't think you'd show at all, not when everything's settled already."

"I know, Mother. I wasn't planning to. Rami isn't here either," Mikael retorts.

"The whole family attended today. Including Rami." His mother cuts him off. "And I just heard about a young man holding up traffic minutes ago, all by himself. I hope you weren't trying what I think you were..."

Mikael answers with a smug look. Chica, caught in this heated exchange, forces a nervous laugh. "Okay, Chens. The function's ending..."

Mikael descends the stairs while his mother takes the opposite side. He retreats to a hidden corner of the main room, watching the society conclude their meeting. His eyes narrow on the group of four leading the debate: his mother, brother, older sister, and father. Though he stares them down, only his older sister seems to notice.

As the function ends, attendees vanish one by one. Mikael leaves early, promising Chica he'll see her later. He heads to the woods to vent, sending birds scattering as he arrives. Settling on a freshly cut tree stump, he contemplates his situation until his elder sister, Rami, appears.

Rami stands slightly taller than him at twenty-three years of age. Her slick, shoulder-length brown hair frames fair skin adorned with tattoos. She wears a black leather jacket over a white crop top, revealing ink on her lower abdomen and above her waistline. More tattoos decorate her arms and hands. Her leather cargo pants complete the look as she holds a cigarette.

"Still at this after all this time," she observes. "Still trying to be cool and mysterious?"

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"You got to the meeting before me," Mikael says.

"Is that what the death stare was for?"

"You NEVER show up for these things, Rami! Even when I was just starting as a kid. Now Mom thinks I'm just some wasteful bum waiting for the spotlight."

"Still worried about the ban? About what they think?" Rami asks rhetorically. "What does it matter if they banned you? Do your thing if you can." She takes another drag. "And one appearance doesn't make you the family bum. No one's taking my position." She laughs, offering him her cigarette. "It's not like I won't get another shot at this job."

Mikael smiles, appreciating her loyalty and comfort. "That's sweet of you. Why'd you come tonight anyway?"

Rami exhales smoke casually. "Chica asked me to. And... I wanted to check it out. Besides, everyone else is gone, Gabriel's back in Central. Just Mom and Dad at home."

Mikael takes a drag and releases it heavily. "I still feel like I can do something though."

Rami reclaims her cigarette. "Tell you what..." She pauses for another drag. "I know a guy on the East End. Young, like you. Always investigating Fallen-related cases and paranormal stuff."

"So, a paranormal investigator?" Mikael asks.

"Not exactly. He investigates, thanks to raw intuition and intelligence, but he isn't a Preter like us."

"Then how can he—" Rami cuts him off. "Shh... I'll set up a meeting. Just get to him, baby boy. You'll find it easier."

Mikael nods and rises, extinguishing his cigarette on the platform's edge. "Thanks, Rami." He embraces her suddenly—a rare display of emotion from his sister.

They break apart as Rami grins playfully. "No problem. Now go find your mystery partner," she says, turning away.

Half an hour later, Mikael arrives at the meeting venue—a series of massive limestone statues erected by Stonehill Studios. He circles the open plaza inconspicuously, scanning the area. Something feels off. Following his instincts, he leaps to a neighboring rooftop for a better view. Suddenly, everyone below vanishes and the sky turns black.

"A veil?" he mutters. "Rami wouldn't set me up."

"An unruly young man who disrupted Friday's traffic," a voice emerges from below as a figure exits the building Mikael stands upon. "A Winnower seems unlikely... but a Chen? Now that's the universe being *incredibly* generous."

Mikael's grin turns nervous, almost grimacing. "The Enclave... fuck."

"Fuck is right, Winnower. Not for long, at least. I hope you fetch a good price." The man—tall, brown-haired, and tanned, wearing a black suit and wielding large daggers—smiles coldly.

Two more men in identical suits materialize above Mikael, hurling fireballs that he narrowly dodges. A third slams him through the roof onto the top floor. Barely avoiding decapitation by a thrown dagger, Mikael springs up from his prone position and launches a spinning roundhouse kick. His attacker blocks it, forcing Mikael to backpedal and create distance as his opponents regroup, turning the fight into a three-on-one in the cramped hallway.

Mikael shrugs off his signature red hoodie, draping it over a locker. His white undershirt reveals tattooed arms as he beckons his attackers forward. They charge together. He dodges two fire attacks, kicks one assailant into a locker, breaks another's nose with a precise punch, and sends the third flying through the window to the plaza below. Reading the room, he evades an incoming dagger but misses the lightning beam that follows. It strikes him hard, leaving him gasping.

I suppose this is expected of the Chen family's failure, he thinks. Struggling against fodder... Shameful.

Rising with hysterical laughter, Mikael faces his opponent. "Better hope that's not all you've got. This is the most fun I've had in months."

The assailant's fear shows. "Is something wrong with you?"

"An Enclave assassin concerned for my wellbeing?" Mikael smirks.

"You looked genuinely hurt... I just thought—" His explanation ends as Mikael slams his face into the ground.

"Wrong answer."

"Tsk tsk... fucking labor these days... can't get anything done." The man from downstairs approaches.

Mikael narrows his eyes, ready to fight.

"Relax... the veil should drop right about..." he points to the darkening sky as it splits apart, revealing a woman in red, wearing a mask like Mikael's, hovering above the building.

"...Now." The woman removes her mask—it's Rami.

"Peter Tremolo. Why am I not surprised?" she calls down.

"Ramiel Chen. The feeling's mutual," he replies, unfazed.

"Rami? What are you doing here?" Mikael asks, confused.

"Haven't figured it out? Your sister used you as bait to get to me," Tremolo explains. "Not very smart. You let him do the grunt work because if you came yourself, it'd be over instantly."

Mikael's confusion turns to anger. "I know you enjoy being a dick, sis, but this goes too far."

"Mikey baby, can we discuss this later?" Her eyes glow white as she readies an energy blast at Tremolo.

"Too much drama for me. Ciao." A flash of white light, and he vanishes.

Mikael retrieves his hoodie through the rubble, turning his back on Rami as she approaches. "You need to calm down, Mikey. This wasn't a setup."

Pulling on his hoodie, he responds, "You'll need better proof than that, Ramiel."

"How about me?" A voice calls from the hallway's end. A young man Mikael's age appears—shorter, with trim black hair to his neck, green eyes, and a deep pale complexion.

"Who are you?" Mikael asks.

"Your scheduled meet-up. Marvin Kaine."