Welcome Home

As far as the world was concerned, Néantville didn't exist.

Well. Officially, anyway.

Previously known as Meraux, the secret but not-so-secret underground town of Néantville was a haven and a curse.

It symbolized everything the new government within the States was trying to eradicate, hoping to put a positive spin on the whole world falling in on itself.

Assassin hunters, blacklisted hunters, druggies, dealers and even murderers walked the streets of the forgotten town. It was a stain to the new world's elites, yet they were the first ones to use it the location and its people to get their dicks wet.

That had been Malik's home since he turned eighteen.

He waded through the thick vines that surrounded the entrance, using his ability to turn himself and his board invisible to avoid having to deal with the monsters that lurked in the swamp topside.

It was one of the reasons not too many people knew about the location. On top of Néantville was a rank A danger zone of a swamp, teeming with monsters not many in the area knew how to handle.

The best their government could've done was contain the entire area which basically left the civilians that survived the sinking of the town to fend for themselves. Not to mention the fact that they didn't know about the underground tunnel outside the containment area that let the smaller monsters out whenever they found it.

As well as letting in illegal inhabitants like himself.

Malik glided past several thick vines until he'd come up to a large green mount at the edge of the containment zone. Moving downwards, he landed on top of it and opened the moss covered hatch.

He hopped down and began to fall from an immense height, only using his board again once he'd gotten close enough to the ground and began slowly weaving his way through the streets of the forgotten town.

For an underground location, it was pretty bright.

Homes, shops and stalls adorned each corner of every street, different types of people milling about and minding their own business.

He paused by old man René's crab cakes stall, the busy line distracting the old man from noticing an invisible hand picking up one of the hot snacks.

Malik of course sent the man the payment through his visor. He was a lot of things, but he wasn't no damned thief. Not in his town anyway.

Continuing down the curvy roads, he glanced at the different kinds of people his town drew in.

A discharged hunter with rock-like skin getting his ass handed to him by one of the call girls in an alley.

An infamous bounty hunter losing in a card game against an old man missing a leg.

A Blessed hooker with tiger stripes on her tanned skin, headed to a motel with a clearly wealthy and naive girl who didn't belong there.

The lights were blinding, the sounds were loud and the smells were too much.

Malik sighed, turning off his ability as he got closer to his uncle's and hopping off his board once he stood in front of the shop.

The sign above read 'Ant's Scraps and Tats', his uncle being rather bad in the naming category.

Malik walked into the brightly lit shop, the relics and junk within it adorning the whole place.

"Yo Malik!"

He nodded at his uncle's part timer, Stefan, who was busy tattooing himself on the counter. Walking up to the older man, Malik blinked slowly at the image the man was imprinting his arm with.

Is that a starfish with eyes? No, a blob. Ah it's something.

"What's good, man?" Stefan asked, eyes still on another one of his weird body art.

"Chillin'," he answered while looking around the place before looking at the door that lead to the back of the shop. "Unc's in?"

"Boss' inside. Also!" The man finished his…art and moved to clean it as he spoke. "When're ya gonna let me put my ink on ya? I gotta practice."

Malik gave him the most blank stare he could've mustered and the older man laughed.

"Aight, aight. S'only a joke, brother. Head on up. Heard Boss was making ya jambalaya tonight."

Nothing in Malik's expression changed but his stare did soften a little before he practically ran through the back door and up the alley's stairs to his and his uncle's place.

He opened the living room window and hopped inside the rundown apartment, lit by some warm lights.

He didn't have time to even fully get off the couch in front of the window when he was jumped by a small ball of fur.

"Missed you too, Nala," the young man muttered as he let the pup slobber all over his face as he laid down on the couch.

He loved dogs more than anything and always wanted one but not only did their population dwindle drastically after the cataclysm, but the few remaining dogs cost more than their entire apartment building times two. It was why having one, or any normal earth animal, made one think the owners came from money.

The amount of times he'd had to get into fights to stop people from trying to kidnap his little girl was more than he'd have liked. Especially considering what she'd already been through.

Finding Nala snuggled up to her dead mother's corpse under a tree had been a blessing despite the heartbreaking scene.

"How many times have I told ya to use the damn door?!" Uncle Antoine yelled from the kitchen and Malik sighed as Nala hopped off him at the sound of the big man's voice.

Malik didn't respond, turning his head to eye the worn out living room with lidded eyes. It was as depressing an apartment as ever.

A couch, a small table with two chairs, and a ceiling light, plus the two bedrooms near the door and a bathroom one couldn't even really call a bathroom.

It was a shit place to live, especially compared with locations like Central Orleans where the top hunters in Louisiana stayed at, but Malik didn't mind it. It was still livable compared to some other people's situations.

It beat living on the streets after he'd ran away from his main family, that's for sure.

Mmm. Let's not think about that today.

He blinked when a large shadow suddenly looked over him and he turned his head to face up at his uncle who was already blinding the young man with his too large smile.

"Welcome home, brat!" he said with more enthusiasm than was needed, cooking spoon in one hand.

It was almost threatening, but the old man was one of the few people that was able to get Malik to almost crack a smile.