Hillock was surprised. She was not privy to Roy's whole history, but she did not expect Moly to have such a reaction towards Roy. Roy's face paled, his ivory teeth locked against each other as he tried to smile and hide his nervousness (and failing horribly).

"H-how?" Roy muttered.

"You know each other?" Hillock asked, curious.

"How could I not hear about you. You were a big shot, Roi. You were powerful and a successful creature. Gossip and rumours about you kept dripping down from up the higher ups," Moly answered. A big bright smile appeared on their face like they just met some sort of celebrity.

Roy's eyes widened. "You're an agent of the Promethean Corps!" Roy realized and exclaimed. His voice rattled the room. His declaration brought shock to Hillock.

"Yes, I am," Moly answered nonchalantly. "And so were you."

"The Promethean Corps?!" Hillock exclaimed, standing up. "You mean you two were one of monsters Prometheus sends marauding!"

"Yes," Moly replied. "You see, Roi is a powerhouse. He managed to wipe a few towns off the map, leaving only lakes and mudpits." Roy winced. He paled, his silver scales turning cold.

"He what!" Hillock was shocked.

"He has phenomenal control over air and the weather. He tore them down with howling winds and drowned them with pouring rain," Moly said.

Hillock turned silent. She glared at Roy with contempt. Roy rubbed his hands in nervousness and fear. He had feared that his identity would be known after he abandoned his mission.

Roy turned to Moly. "I don't remember you. Who are you?" He asked.

"I am Moly Bush. You've not heard of me since I was created long after you've been first deployed. I'm actually considered a failure. I was born with awful eyesight, but I clove apart and stood upon the corpses of 'superior' versions of me," Moly pridefully announced. They then turned to the axe on the wall and remarked, "Ah. That axe was my partner in life and death back in Colosseumton. If I hadn't found spirituality, I would probably still be back there mindlessly hacking apart challengers."

"Really?" Roy mockingly said.

"Yes. Contrary to the fact that I have a very thick skull, I have a big brain," they answer.

"The size of your brain doesn't correspond to your intelligence."

"I know. It means I have reserve brainspace to thinking even in battle."

The conversation devolved into an exchange of mocks. While the two reptiles were engaged in their banter, Hillock seethed within.

"Stop!" Hillock screamed, and then said in a much more relaxed manner, "Why don't we get back on topic?" Roy and Moly's attention were effectively caught.

"Right, your father," Moly said. They produce a folder, and they begin rummaging through the files.

Whilst they were busy looking at the files, Hillock turned her yellow eyes at Roy. Her glare was like a flashlight emitting uncomfortable radiation in his direction. He shook in fear.

"You! Roy Shiro or Shinroy Roi or whatever your name was. What is this about you destroying villages?" Hillock screamed at his face, her throat threatening to grow hoarse.

Roy winced and tried to look away and deflect the statement, but the question echoed on the walls and he had no escape. He rubbed his hands in discomfort as he said, "It-- it was m-my mission: I was su-supposed to destroy towns and all the resistance against me. Valleyton, Hillton, Villageton, Denton, and Houston. When I turned Villageton into a lake, there was this lithoform that survived. She was away when I destroyed it. She looked at me with despairing eyes while I drank water from the lake."

"I guess that was the moment you grew a conscience."

Roy relaxed a bit. "Did you know what she asked me?"

Hillock grimaced, but took the bait anyway. "What is it?"

"'Why?'" Roy replied. "'What was the reason for this?' It was the first time 'reason' entered my vocabulary."

"Did you find out why you had to destroy those villages?" Hillock asked, this time much softer.

And Roy answered. "No. Those towns were worthless. I couldn't discern the purpose of my attack."

It was then that Moly entered the fray once more. "That's Prometheus for you, chap. Incredibly cryptic." They held a document in their hands. "Ah. Looks like we've found a trace of your father."

Hillock perked up. "Where?!"

"At the funeral home," Moly said. It shattered all of Hillock's sunshine, reducing her to a stammering wreck. The crashing of the mood was like a car crashing into a brick wall. Tears threatened to flow out her tear ducts.

"What's he doing there?" Roy asked, trying his best to hide his discomfort.

"He's dead for a month. He attacked Townston on the behalf of Prometheus. Somebody managed to climb to the back of his neck and kill him," Moly answered, confirming his suspicion.

~***~

Menthol marched back to the rendezvous. Other scavengers that had left that day was waiting for the others on that intersection. Their bags were filled with various stuff: food, trinkets, and hardware stuff like nails, screws, string, and rope.

His bag was filled with a bundle of fire axes and common office trinkets. In one of his pockets was a flash drive. Inside the flash drive was a soft copy of the contract he signed. Although it was completely digital, he felt as if a smidge of his soul was used to make the digital strokes.

It was bit odd though. Metaphor was supposed to rendezvous them. She's oddly late.

"Oof." Metaphor suddenly collided with Menthol from behind. She rebounded from his back and landed on her butt on the snow. She would've broken her tailbone if the snow wasn't soft enough.

"You're late," Menthol dismissively remarked. The contract had pulled a shadow of a bad mood on his expression.

Metaphor appeared a bit anxious, twirling her claws. Menthol helped her back up, and she wiped off the fine snow that had dusted her grey winter clothing.

"Everyone here?" Metaphor asked.

"No," Menthol answered. He then looked the setting sun whilst they waited for the other scavengers to return. As the sun slowly but surely lowers towards the skyline, its RADIANCE slowly turned red. They laid in the snow while they waited.

Right at dusk or perhaps twilight, the other scavengers returned with their goods just before evening. Menthol took a minute to count everybody just to make sure that not one was to be left behind.

"Everyone's here," Menthol confirmed and stood up. Every scavenger turned their eyes towards him and secured their bundles and tightened their hold. "Let's go."

They began to march back to Gardenton. Snow crunched beneath their feet. The march was silent, not a soul daring a sound, made worse by the lifeless urban jungle they traversed through.

They passed by streetlights though their glow were long dead. Buildings around them stood like the walls of a canyon, and skyscrapers rose like pillars of heaven. Long ugly scars painted the sky. It was testament to the ambitions of his people that they built up buildings that literally scraped the skies.

Other than the frayed silver constellations and thin moon that lit above, only Metaphor's orb of mage light shone on their way. It was an odd orb of light; a swirling mass of indigo and teal that emitted COOL light. It was a strange thing. It brought RADIANCE like light bulbs and the sun, yet failed to emit a smidge of WARMTH. Instead, it brought the opposite, COOLTH. It was like cold, yet also unlike. It was like water if cold was likened to ice. It absorbed the RADIANT energy, but did not covet it like real cold.

They marched on until the last light of the sun faded from view. Soon in their march, the frosted walls of Gardenton came to view. Cheerful FIERY light emanated from within, and torches were placed upon the parapets of the wall. They homed in to the great portal that that separated what's within the walls from the outside, and the great gate opened to allow them passage.

They were welcomed back to the little town almost like heroes. There were shouts and festive cheer in their voices. The air was WARM from all the bonfires that were lit, driving away the chilling cold. It was a refreshing sight; after years of endless winter and overpowering snow, Menthol had finally seen a day where snow had no power over him.

They dropped off their loot on the town square. The others surrounded them, interested in the souvenirs they've brought. They came and helped in organizing the items they've brought. They've been trained well by him and Stripe. He could see them working well together, and it brought a smile to his face and warmth to his heart.

Metaphor had separated from them and met with her friend. She's a bit too distrusting of his kind, though considering the ineptitude they had demonstrated prior to his arrival, she's not to blame.

Once all the supplies they've gathered had been properly organized, they've put them away to the storerooms. They then had supper; Stripe had prepared a soup with lots of leafy vegetables. Menthol wasn't a fan of leafy vegetables as viands like most plantfolk, but considering that it was Stripe's cooking, it was better than what they cobble themselves. The salt and sour tomatoes sent an electric feeling in Menthol's body.

"Uncle Menthol," a short squeaky voice said. Menthol pulled his aquamarine eyes up to meet with beautiful amber eyes. It belonged to a girl with wrinkled leaves matting her back. She was lithe and tall, a little bit taller than him. In her hand was a half-finished bowl of soup.

Menthol smiled and said, "Having a nice evening, Pepper?" Her name was Pepper Mint, his niece or perhaps cousin he hadn't known he had. Times were good; he had a clan and a family.

"Yes, uncle," Pepper replied. "You're like Hero, big and strong."

Menthol laughed. She laughed too. Pepper fell forward to hug her sitting uncle. He embraced her into his arms, giving each other precious WARMTH.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he whispered back.

He looked up to the skies, and a the stars. Streaking through sky, he saw a meteor. It was rare occurrence, enough to make him hang a wish upon it: a wish of the betterment of himself and his kind.

"Pepper, if you could become anything in the future, what do you want to be?" he asked.

"Hmm...," she thought for a moment. "I think I'll become an inventor."

"Really, why?"

"I'd invent a machine that would make warm soup to every cold corner of Urbanland."