Alright, I know it's been a while but I finally finished the third chapter. Big thanks to Hobbes92 and SaviorsBlood on this one. Chapter 3: The Start The way the EDC tested us never seemed like what it was. A new job in the slums wasn't unusual. They used us for most of the city's grunt work, knowing we'd try to earn a living however we could. It's how it always had been; just part of life. Something that never changed. Never will. Becca had been trying to convince me to get a job for a while. I'd turned seventeen recently, allowing me to apply for the heavy labor jobs. Work wasn't my strong suit so I shrugged off her attempts. Nothing had ever given me the drive to accomplish anything, which added to the reasons why others in the slums hated me. The people here had always despised me, hating me for the name I carried. My bloodline was seen as a plague to them. I had never understood why they resented me so strongly. After all, I was in the same position as them. "Tyler!" The loud yell woke me from a lazy sleep. "Tyler! Get up." Becca was running through the thick grass to my house. My home was nothing impressive; just a small one room shack, made only of left over wood and metal scraps, giving it a rugged look. The wind passed through multiple holes. But I didn't mind. I've always enjoyed a nice breeze. The interior contained what little possessions I had; a bed frame with a mattress, a small nightstand, and a book shelf filled with books; Telling of ancient tales about brave kings and leaders fighting for honor. Something we lacked now-a-days. "Are you awake yet?" Becca asked, folding her arms. "Give me a second." I said with a sigh. My napping was a bad habit I'd always had. It only got worse when I moved away from Becca's house. The naps were always nice, considering where my house was placed. I'd built it away from the cruel noise of the city for more peace. It sat in the middle of a field fairly close to the wall, which provided plenty of shade in the evenings. Becca finally reached my shack. "Come on Tyler. There's something I need to tell you." I stood up, slowly stretching and made my descent from the roof. Becca was clothed in a green dress with several patches that only showed its age. Her hair was down, as usual, and flowed in the small gusts of wind. She wore her signature necklace, a gold chain with a 'T' at the end. A trinket Ralph and I had uncovered years ago by digging for treasure. "What's got you so excited?" I asked. She never came to my house to deliver news. Usually she was patient enough to wait until I came to see her. "Just come on. I'll tell you when we get into town." She reached for my hand and started leading me toward the slums. I didnt resist her and allowed myself to be dragged along. Once we got to the city she took me straight to the town square. "So are you going to tell me now?" I asked. "Hold on, we're almost there." As usual, the square was full of people trying to get food; the greatest necessity here. She finally stopped in front of a bar and pointed to a poster. As I walked to read it, the first thing I saw was 'Scavenger' printed boldly. "A scavenger?" I turned to Becca. "Are you serious?" Her expression became flustered. "Of course I am." She crossed her arms and turned her head away. "Look how much it pays." I understood why she wanted to show me. 3,000 credits a trip. More than enough to convince anyone to apply. A week of work and you could have a new house in the real city, away from the slums. Problem is, the job was meant for death row prisoners. The point was to go outside the wall and collect what you could. A 'trip' was 4 hours outside the wall, a long time to be exposed. The only protection was a Guardian every once in a while. If you were lucky. "Becca, I don't think it's worth it." I looked at her. She was in tears. "Look, it's just to dangerous." "Yeah, I know." She breathed. I grabbed her arm. "Let's go, we can talk when we get back." Once we were back at my house she sat on my bed. "Sorry." Her voice stuttered. "For what?" I replied. "Thinking you'd take the job." I sat down beside her. "I know the risk is high, I was just thinking of the money." She stared at the floor now, her hair covering her face. "Look, it's not a big deal. Besides, I'm fine with what I have." Her hands clenched into fists and she faced me. "What do you have?!" She screamed. "A crap house and some books! You don't have anything! Tyler..." I'd never seen her go ballistic before. She was always so peaceful and gentle. "Becca, calm down." I reached to her and she shoved my hand aside. "I don't need to leave the ghettos. I'm fine here." "How can you be okay with this life?" She retorted. "You deserve so much more." Her voice was now trembling. For as long as I could remember Becca had always said I got a bad hand in life, which wasn't a lie. I'd been born among the nobles. But at the age of four my mother disappeared and my father passed away from sickness, eaving me with nothing. Other nobles had hated my father, so no other house would take me in. Being left with no other options, the government sent me to an orphanage. So I grew up there until I was taken in by Becca's family at the age of ten. "Why is leaving the slums a bad thing?" She questioned bitterly. "It's not a bad thing. It's just that I'm comfortable here I don't need luxury." "Tyler, this could be your chance." She slid closer. "You deserve so much more than this place." Tears formed in her eyes now. "You know it's true." She managed to say before bawling. I put my arm around her. "Well, it's not like I would have made a good noble anyway," I teased. "Too lazy." She eased up and laughed a little. "You would've been great, I know it." She grabbed my hand. "You're such a good guy, even though you don't always show it. You would have been so much better than any of the nobles." I let out a long sigh. "I don't know about that..." The nobles squirmed in their seats with excitement. "Mr. Mikkelson, why wouldn't you be a better noble?" The pudgy man asked. "Well sir, I'm sure I would have been raised to the same standards as anyone else in the noble caste." He sat lower in his seat, tensing up. "Ah, but this girl you speak so much about. It does sound like she turns out to be your wife?" Madam Shalese hissed. "Am I right?" "I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise." I retorted. "One more question Mr. Mikkelson." The pudgy man asked. "People talk about how you lost control of your emotions when your wife passed," I clenched the arms of the chair. "But I thought they took any emotions away from Guardians. To make them the best, of course." I eased up a little. Apparently everyone knew about my personal life. "Well sir, do you know why they call your ribs a cage?" "Well it keeps all of your organs in place, right?" He replied, confused. "Yes, but more importantly it holds a monster." "What do you mean a monster?" "It's your heart. Your ribs are a cage for that beast. Nobody lives without emotions, sir." He looked flustered. "Don't think on that to hard now." Madam Shalese said. "Mr. Mikkelson, can we continue with your story?" She said with a smile. "Well, I told Becca I would do it, but only until I could afford housing for her family and me. Then I'd get a real job. At the end of the first week I'd learned the ropes. But I still had quite the adventure to go..." Don't worry, I know the people reading this are most likely all guys. So the action stuff is coming up finally. Hope you enjoyed the chapter though.