Groups of people were walking through the entrance, both in and out of the city. The guards scanned the people carefully, but didn’t seem to be detaining anyone. This was the only policing they’d run into, and Abigail was nervous the guards were summoned on their account. Ishmael was nervous, too. He rubbed the ring below his lip and frowned. He walked closer to her and whispered, “Guards aren’t necessarily unusual, but there’s often only one, and only when the crowds going in or out of Monochrome are thick, for whatever reason, or if they’re after someone.” His eyes scanned Abigail. “We have to act casual. We’re coming to Steamtown for work, got it?” She nodded and put her shaking hands in her tight costume pockets. As they got closer, it was clear the man and woman at the gate weren’t usually guards. Both were skinny and sick-looking. Their eyes were set far back into their heads, and their hands and legs were constantly moving, as if they had their own free will.
