Amelia appeared angelic in the sun's glow streaming through the windshield, with her chestnut hair radiating a warm sheen. Her light makeup, tastefully applied, enhanced her natural beauty without overshadowing it. She'd gifted Lucian a rare Cureall as if handing off a piece of gum. To think Lucian was about to call “Her” instead of Amelia. It was a good thing he didn’t. He had enough problems on his hands.

A ringing caught his attention. Tension took hold of Lucian seeing the name that flashed upon the slick black screen of his phone.

“Who’s ‘Her?’” Amelia asked curiously, reading the caller ID.

Lucian may have spoken too soon. The urge to hear “Her” voice bubbled up within him, along with a stirring in his body that lit a flame of longing and temptation. He could ask Amelia to watch Two Tap for a bit while he met “Her” somewhere private…

A rustling drew his attention to Amelia pushing her crossbody bag next to Gabriel’s cowboy hat on the dashboard. The hat triggered memories in Lucian of his friend, the Mexican cowboy, Gabriel Flores, a friend Lucian had admired for his honesty and hard work. A self-deprecating smirk turned his mouth sideways. Gabriel would’ve called him names if Lucian had given in to the temptation of wanting “Her.” Gabriel would’ve wanted him to stay strong.

“Uh, Lush…?” Amelia prompted, waving a freshly manicured hand in his despondent face.

“Sorry. Girl problems,” he sighed, shuddering, loosening the tension in his body. “You know how it is.”

“She must be special…”

“Words can’t describe...” Lucian became distant, as if he were floating across the ocean, hanging on driftwood.

He snapped back to reality, hearing the clicking of Amelia’s seatbelt as she strapped herself in. “Okay,” she prompted, “Where are we going next?”

In the back, Two Tap had crawled down to the car floor, her tears still flowing freely. Shadows clung to her in between bones, in crevices, in the way her gauntness hollowed out her features—her emaciated appearance gaining all of Lucian’s attention.

“We’ll get something to eat,” Lucian decided and brought the car to life with the turn of his key. The black Chevy became a black streak with its speed as they tore down the street, going deeper into the Workers’ Ring.

“Are we really going to eat in the Workers’ Ring…?” Amelia complained, watching the overworked dregs sit tiredly in the drab buildings that served as this ring’s restaurants. There was only processed food in this part of New DC—not an exciting prospect for a girl from the Heart Rings, accustomed to deriving nutrients from purely organic sources.

Lucian paid her no mind and pulled up in front of a burger place where a mascot of a portly man in an apron, its paint worn and chipped, stood proudly with a tray of fast food in its hand. This mascot, likely salvaged from a scrapyard, had endured the Monster Invasion, unlike the countries of the Americas.

They settled at outdoor tables, Amelia showing little interest in the fare before her, while Lucian and Two Tap dug into their meals like laborers working a shift of digging holes. A TV with its back missing sat on a foldable table, emitting the static-filled and almost unclear hum of a news channel, “…City President Vork has issued a statement that all is well. But polls show New DC citizens aren’t so easily fooled. In the past week, experts say Monster Gate breaks are up nearly fifty percent…”

“Um, Lush?” Two Tap’s mousy voice spoke, her mouth greasy from her burger. Previous drug use had left her unable to retain Lucian’s real name, so she relied on what Amelia used. Catching Lucian’s eye, she said, “Two Tap will go back to the Wasteland now. Bye-bye.”

“No,” Lucian denied simply and returned to his meal.

“…Oh, okay.” Two Tap also continued eating, her confidence gone, unable to conjure any conviction to argue. Staring at the shivering Two Tap, Amelia smiled, being reminded of Elina when they had first met. Elina had been like a frightened hare back then as well.

“Don’t worry,” Amelia encouraged, putting a reassuring hand on Two Tap’s shoulder, “Lush isn’t a bad guy.” She looked to Lucian. “Shouldn’t you explain things to her?”

“No,” Lucian said again, “She’s not ready.”

“At least try to be a little softer.”

“W-where’s Dougy?” Two Tap stammered, looking down at her calloused fingers twiddling in her lap.

“Eat your meal,” Lucian commanded, to which she quieted and did as she was told. Two Tap knew her brother had died. A part of her didn’t want to admit it, and another part of her wanted to run away from knowing. No part of her was ready to confront the truth, and Lucian could tell. Elina had been the same way when their friends in the orphanage died.

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Lucian watched the Wastelander girl hunched over her food, eating, unable to look him or Amelia in the eyes. He soon sighed. He had no idea what to do with her. Amelia began to coo kind words and console the Wastelander girl.

Meanwhile, Lucian’s attention drifted to a magazine cover in someone’s hands at a table over. The cover read, “Monsters Can Talk?!” Other headlines on the cover read “Meet the man who is half man, half monster!” and “Monster Gates: Are They Really Full of Monsters or Our Future Selves?” Lucian couldn’t help but think of the blue bird monster that had nearly pierced his heart. It had the ability to use speech, unlike other monsters.

The man with the magazine noticed movement at his table and looked excitedly to see a few New DC bucks waiting for him. “I want to buy your magazine,” Lucian offered.

“It’s tabloid trash anyway,” replied the man at the table, hastily grabbing the cash before Lucian could change his mind. “It’s all yours.”

At the other end of Lucian’s table, the thin Wastelander girl watched him, wanting to say something but was too afraid to speak. Two Tap had no idea who he was or what he wanted from her or why he kept her around. Elysium crystal called to her, promising to erase the confusing and unclear situation, offering a tempting escape into fleeting tranquility. However, the pull toward drugs felt weaker, surprising her. There was a time when she had raged so intensely over Elysium that she had hurt her own brother to procure it. Now, there was barely anything but a phantom desire, almost as if she were simply remembering that she used to yearn for crystal.

“It’ll be alright,” Amelia comforted, petting Two Tap like a lost kitten.

Two Tap wanted to pull away, but fear of being in an unknown place with unfamiliar people kept her frozen. Affection was off-putting for a Wastelander like her. She was almost allergic to it.

There came the sound of flipping pages. Lucian turned to the article in the tabloid regarding monsters talking. Most of it was outrageous and sensationalistic conjecture, like monsters having their own megacity society like New DC.

Further in, the article read, “Local MHS worker turned Anointed, Greg Oper, says monsters are after him. When asked why he thought that, he answered, ‘I know they are because they told me. We messed up big. Oh, God. I just ate the fruit because everyone else did.’ This so-called ‘fruit,’ or as Greg says, the monster referred to it, the ‘Sacred Fruit,’ is why he can no longer work in Monster Gates for fear of being hunted…”

“Greg?” Lucian sputtered, brows furrowed. “The conspiracy guy Greg—from the Worker Ant Company?!” Lucian had no idea any other MHS guys had survived the Monster Gate where Gabriel died.

Lucian pulled out his phone and made calls to find him but soon hit a dead end—Greg had gone AWOL. Even more surprising were reports from some of Lucian’s contacts, informing him about the downfall of the Worker Ant Company. During a routine Monster Gate job, an oversight by the Wardens resulted in a monster being left alive, which went on to kill the MHS workers and the Wardens guarding them. This unsettling news made Lucian uneasy, as he couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow connected to him.

Greg had no known family and only a few social connections linking him to Lucian. This limited Lucian's options to reach him. Fortunately, Lucian had a backup plan, prompting another call.

“Hello?” answered a voice on the phone.

Lucian replied, “Hey, Bill, I need to find someone. Do you know how I could do that?” Based on what he had observed at William’s place, the chubby mercenary was no stranger to information gathering.

William responded, “Oh, it’s you, Lucian. I can never get used to ‘Bill.’ It makes me sound like an overly sweet neighbor.” A pause followed with William situating himself at a computer. Despite the loss of his legs, his Anointed strength made walking with his hands child’s play. “You got a name?”

“Greg Oper, an MHS worker from the now-defunct Worker Ant Company. I used to work with him, but no one knows where he went. He just showed up in a tabloid called ‘The New DC Chatty.’”

With a knowing tone, William remarked, “That stuff’s junk. ‘Gossip Tea’ magazine is way more entertaining.” Lucian could hear the typing of keys. “I’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks, Bill.”

“I just can’t get used to that name...” The phone went silent as William hung up.

Abrupt tire screeching, highlighted by a crash of crushing metal, came from the street in front of the burger place. A sleek black Gatetech car had crashed into a telephone pole. Blue sparks flew from its Gatetech engine like the last breaths of a dying man before the engine became dark.

“You've got to be kidding me,” the driver cursed, leaving the car, throwing his hands in the air.

“Hey, what the fuck, you shitty Worker Drone!” raged the man in the passenger seat, who got out to confront an exhausted-looking man in an old van made in times before the Monster Invasion. “Worker Drone” was a common term used for the workers in the Workers’ Ring, who were always toiling endlessly—as good Worker Drones should, working themselves into an early grave.

Both men from the wrecked Gatetech car wore black suits as clean and silky as their car used to be. The tired man in the van seemed as if he had finished a fourteen-hour shift and couldn’t focus well. He’d nearly rammed his vehicle into the men in suits, forcing them off the road and crashing because of it.

The Worker Drone began to panic when he saw the air acting differently around their bodies, hinting that these men were Anointed, and not only that. There was a symbol upon the lapels of both men that struck fear into him deeper than the fact they were super powered beings.

“Yellowbrick…!” he sputtered and stumbled out of his van, dropping to his knees to bow.

“You think you can grovel to us, and everything will be okay?” one of the slick men rasped, placing a foot upon his head like a stepping stool.

“Fucking crush his head like a grape,” the other sneered. “Rid the world of this useless retard.”

Amelia had watched the ordeal in its entirety. “I hate corporate douchebags,” she spat, glaring at the pair of suits, “They act like they own the world!”

“Quiet down,” Lucian urged, “They’re Yellowbrick.” He could see the shine upon metallic pins on their lapels depicting a yellow brick road.

“Who cares?” Amelia had become belligerent, causing Lucian to grow wary.

Yellowbrick Inc.—one of the most powerful pharmaceutical companies in the world, and a company on par with the Great Guilds, the most powerful guilds. All rights to Monster Gates within the New DC area were controlled by such guilds and corporations.

“No, I mean it,” Lucian reiterated sternly, “They’re Corp Anointed with status and power. They’re a pain in the ass.” He shook his head as he returned to reading the tabloid. “Rule number one in the Broken Ring: Mind your own business.”

“This isn’t the Broken Ring,” Amelia growled as she rose from her seat.

“Melly!”