Cat attentively eyed her surroundings as they walked down a derelict City street, mossy growths and debris peppering its countenance. She thought things seemed oddly darker, more obscured for some reason, but attributed it to the simple anxiety of being with a new partner. She mulled over Meshach’s behavior. He appeared to be either the “strong and silent” type or the “walking time bomb” type; She couldn’t figure out which of the two he was yet, but either way, she wasn’t going to start pressing any of his buttons if she could help it.

As she was thinking these things through, he spoke up. Cat listened to his awkward, stilted language closely, trying to guess his accent while still scrutinizing the environment. As he was explaining, she failed to understand the source of his accusation. It could be that, due to Sector loyalties, anyone who wasn’t a City Wanderer couldn’t possibly switch jobs that easily, so Meshach must have assumed that she wasn’t an ex-Hunter. She wasn’t offended by his skepticism; after all, it was what she would have wanted to know if she were in his position. They seemed to be one and the same when it came to chronic paranoia. Still, she wasn’t going to spill her life story to him 10 minutes after meeting him. In fact, hardly anyone got to know about her mother’s fate, besides some of the City Councilors. If there ever came a time when the two of them could be friends (which she highly doubted), then she’d consider it – but not now.

She turned to him and was about to give a simple, not untruthful explanation that she knew someone who was a Hunter and so was intimately familiar with what a Hunter’s schedule was like, when Meshach cut himself off and directed her attention elsewhere. As it turned out, the tension in the atmosphere wasn’t just her imagination. Every direction she looked, there was a tiny, malevolent face.

They were surrounded by Shadow Graphers.

Cat did her best to calm herself mentally, knowing that this amount of Graphers wouldn’t be much of a threat to the two of them – as long as they kept their wits about them. She pulled her rifle out and jerked the breech, readying it. None of the Graphers were in range of her old model firearm, so it wasn’t safe for her to make the first move. The monsters seemed to be morphing and changing shape, moving ever closer to their position. She put her back gently to Meshach’s to ensure they couldn’t be taken by surprise.

“Okay, so my gun’s not suited for this range,” she admitted in a low voice. “And unless you’re some kind of sharp-shooter, you’re not going to get anywhere with that revolver, either. But there’s no way to advance without taking them out first. So we have two options: we can wait for them to form into something possibly deadlier, or we can draw them closer and take them out one by one. Your call – I’m the one who dragged you into this, after all.”