The sound of the aluminum can cracking open was the only thing that felt like the old world. For a few seconds, the hiss of carbonation and the sugary scent of the soda masked the metallic, static-heavy stench of the Flux. Mel ate with an unashamed, messy vigor, tearing at the Lynx meat as she spoke, her voice muffled by the mouthfuls of protein.

  "You asked what I meant by 'closer,'" Mel said, wiping a smear of grease from her chin with the back of her hand. "Look, Lexington, I’ve been a solo act since the Integration. I didn’t have a track team or a partner with a big machete to watch my back. I had me, my mic stand, and a city that suddenly decided it wanted to eat its inhabitants."

  Ren didn't drink his soda yet. He held the cold can in his scarred hand, his eyes fixed on Mel. "You’ve been roaming for three days. Alone. In a city where Level 5 bosses drop into subway tunnels. How are you still in one piece?"

  Mel let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "Because I’m the best hide-and-seek player in New York. I stole, I hid, I scavenged. I’ve killed my fair share of those toothy bastards when I had to, but mostly? I stayed away from anything with a heartbeat. The moment that golden light hit the sky—the integration—I knew the game had changed. I saw what happened to the first group that tried to claim a pillar in Midtown. Power-hungry idiots with hunting rifles. They didn't just fight the monsters; they started executing anyone who walked near their 'territory.' Rules are gone, pal. The only thing left is leverage."

  Chloe leaned forward, her brow furrowed. "But why us? If you don't trust people, why come into a hole in the ground to find us?"

  Mel tapped her ear, a lopsided grin appearing on her face. "Like I said before, I can hear your heartbeats. My Passive—[Street Hustler’s Ear]—isn't just a gimmick. If I concentrate, I can hear a pin drop on the top floor of a skyscraper three blocks away. I can hear the way the wind whistles through the bullet holes in a car door. And your cough, Lexington?" She looked at Ren with a pitying tilt of her head. "That smoky, wet rattle of yours? It’s like a lighthouse in a storm. It’s hard to miss."

  Ren’s jaw tightened. The "passive" in his lungs wasn't just killing him; it was a beacon for every predator in the city. "So you heard us. You heard us planning. Why stay away until now?"

  "Because I didn't want to be involved," Mel said, her tone suddenly flat. She took a long, thirsty gulp of her soda. "Involvement gets you killed. But after two days of nothing but sugar water and stale crackers, I hit a wall. The monsters out there? They aren’t just Level 1 house cats anymore. They’re eating each other. They’re leveling up, grouping up. I saw a pack of those felines—the ones you fought—moving in a swarm of ten. I’m one girl with a weighted stick. I couldn't take that meat from them, but I figured I could trade for it from you."

  "You could have just stolen it," Ren noted, his eyes narrowing.

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  "And risk a flame sword to the gut?" Mel gestured vaguely at Chloe. "Nah. I’m a scavenger, not a suicide lead. Besides, I heard you talking about smoothies and school. You didn't sound like the 'shoot-on-sight' types. Not yet, anyway."

  Chloe looked down at her iron ring, then back at Mel. "You said someone was watching us. On the surface."

  Mel’s expression turned somber. She stopped eating for a moment, her gaze drifting toward the dark tunnel. "A few hours ago, while I was resting in an office building near the highway, I heard a man talking. At first, I thought he was a loony talking to himself—lots of people have snapped. But he was too calm. He was looking through binoculars, describing two targets. A girl with fire and a guy in a hoodie."

  Ren’s grip on his soda can tightened until the metal groaned.

  "I couldn't hear anyone responding to him," Mel continued, "which means he wasn't talking to himself. He had a device, or maybe a skill that lets him broadcast over long distances. He told whoever was on the other end: 'I found them. They have a hole. They're down Lexington. We’ll come back in two days.'"

  "Two days," Chloe whispered, her face going pale. "That’s one day before the Monolith War officially begins."

  "Exactly," Mel said. "I didn't follow the guy. I was too weak, and I didn't want him to hear me. But if he’s reporting back to a group? They aren't coming back for a friendly chat. They’re coming back prepared. They want this spot. A Monolith in a subway substation? It’s a fortress. No sun to deal with, easy to defend, and hidden from the main streets. It’s a prime piece of real estate."

  Ren looked at the golden glow of the Monolith behind them. He had known this was coming, but hearing it confirmed by a stranger made it feel visceral. "And what about you? You’re sitting here telling us we’re marked. What’s your plan? You going to wait for them to show up and join the winning side?"

  Mel snorted, finishing the last of the meat and tossing the scrap of metal aside. She stood up, stretching her lanky frame and picking up her mic stand. "Me? I’m going to stay fed and keep my ears open. This was a business transaction, Lexington. You gave me protein, I gave you sugar and a heads-up. I'm not looking for a roommate, and I'm definitely not looking to play hero."

  "You're just going to leave?" Chloe asked, sounding surprised.

  "For now," Mel said, stepping back into the shadows, just at the very edge of the light. "I like my space. But I’ll be around. If I hear those 'Watchers' coming back before the two-day mark, maybe I’ll drop another pin for you. For the right price, of course."

  Ren watched her carefully. She was a mercenary of information, a creature perfectly adapted to the "Chaos" of the new world order. He didn't trust her, but he couldn't deny her utility.

  "One more thing," Ren called out as she began to fade into the indigo dark. "If those people come... what will you do?"

  Mel stopped, her silhouette a jagged outline against the rusted tunnel wall. She turned her head slightly, her lopsided grin returning.

  "Me? I'll do what I always do. I’ll find a high seat with a good view, and I’ll listen to the symphony of the fight." She tapped her mic stand against the floor—thump-ring—and the sound echoed deep into the darkness. "But if I were you, Lexington? I’d start thinking about how to turn this tunnel into a graveyard. Because they aren't coming for the soda."

  With that, Mel vanished into the darkness.

  Ren and Chloe were left in the sudden, heavy silence of the substation. Chloe was clutching her half-finished soda, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and adrenaline.

  "Ren," she whispered. "What do we do? If they have a way to talk to each other across the city... they’re organized. They might be higher level than us."

  Ren finally cracked his can of soda. The sweetness was cloying, almost artificial, but the cold liquid felt like a shock to his system. He looked at his HUD. 4/13 HP.

  "We do what she said," Ren replied, his voice a cold rasp. "We prepare. We have three days to turn this 'Safe Zone' into a death trap."

  He took a long drink of the soda, the sugar hitting his bloodstream. For the first time, he didn't feel like a dying man. He felt like a hunter waiting for the trap to spring.