The buildings always shone brightly against the dull sky. Each reflective glass pane that covered the outside of skyscrapers and every LED lit-up advertisement board seemed to upstage the natural marvels around the city. Not that there was much of anything natural left. In fact, artificial parks and exotic indoor gardens were common public attractions, considering the lack of any other greenery within city limits.
Shore craned her neck up, staring upon one of these man-made marvels with distaste. The material it was constructed of was gray, worn, pale, completely contrasting the mirror like towers in the business districts. The air was thick, filled with poisonous smoke from the nearby trash disposal facilities. The official health and safety departments claimed they used a harmless and scientifically advanced process, but Shore could tell from the smell and the thick black clouds occasionally drifting between the buildings that the methods were more likely far from environmentally friendly. She covered her nose and mouth with one of her thick black sleeves and shoved into thick metal doors on the front of her new temporary home with one shoulder. They didn't budge.
"Locked...?" She tilted her head up, first searching for a face in the tinted, cracked windows, then scanning for the graffiti-like, underground codes she'd learned to decipher that were quite often sprayed or etched into the concrete. She expected to find one of the simple instructions she'd picked up; arrows that gave instructions for different ways in, inconspicuous terms that she'd come to known meant the safehouse had been closed down or relocated. She found nothing though, and wondered if she'd gone to the wrong location.
"It's just rusted, you know. Push harder."
Shore jumped, whipping around and throwing a fist on reflex. It was caught in the air, held perfectly halted against a large palm, wrapped by tightly gripping, long fingers. Her green eyes stared at the averted punch with disbelief. To predict her attack perfectly and stop it so easily, the stranger would have to be incredibly skilled; Shore knew she herself was no lightweight, despite her age.
"Settle down." The male raised a black eyebrow, seemingly amused. "A girl shouldn't take on a man so carelessly."
"... But..." Shore paused, yanking her hand back, remembering her cover.
"You joking, man? Do I look like a girl to you?"
"... No. But you are one, right?" The young man grinned. He couldn't have been over nineteen, possibly twenty. Three years difference shouldn't have seemed so much, but the boy was tall, at least six feet, and Shale felt extremely small in comparison. He wasn't necessarily muscular, though his stance was wide and open. His build was similar to her own, she observed, with a thin, lithe muscle structure that was just barely defined beneath his
tight black t-shirt.
"No. I'm NOT." She wouldn't allow some overgrown twig to best her...
"Okay. So, 'young man,' what is a kid like you doing in the pov district?"
"Fair question, but I think mine is a little better. What's a creeper like you doing in my face?" She glared up at him, teeth bared in a grimace.
"Creeper? I'm hurt." He chuckled and Shore found her annoyance rising.
"Wanna go in? Like I said, the door is just a bit rusted. If you push with your shoulder, you should be able to move it. Name's Lexais. Call me Lex, if you want."
"I'd rather not call you anything. I'll be going now." Shore turned, bothered that she had to search for a new place to stay already. It would be getting dark soon, and the street lights of the poverty district, not-so-affectionately nicknamed the "the pov", weren't at all reliable. But by now, she also knew that types like "Lex" were even less reliable and just as disturbing as a murky night in the bad part of town.