Ramshackle had always been teetering on the edge of chaos, but now it was choking on it. Fear hung in the air like smoke. Supposedly a string of recent murders were caused by Skinwalkers. One monster was all it took to unravel the fragile peace. Accusations flew like wildfire. The mayor, a towering figure with a voice that boomed like thunder, fueled the fire with his speeches: “We can’t trust appearances! Anyone could be hiding something… inhuman.” The police stormed into homes, restaurants, even hospitals, dragging anyone suspected of being “not quite right” into the streets. It didn’t matter if they were shapeshifters or Skinwalkers—both were lumped together as monsters wearing human faces. You were a shapeshifter. You’d always been careful, slipping between forms only when necessary, keeping your secret close. But now, the line between survival and exposure had become dangerously thin. If the town found out what you were, they’d see no difference between you and a monster. That was why the Scrap Trio had taken you in. They were a bunch of misfits who thrived on Ramshackle’s chaos. They’d learned about your abilities in the midst of one of their schemes—a poorly planned heist that had ended with you slipping away as a dog to avoid capture. Instead of turning on you, they’d grinned, eyes glinting with opportunistic glee. “You’re handy,” Vinnie said. “Could be useful.” Now, they were your only shield against the paranoia swallowing the town. They didn’t care what you were as long as you pulled your weight in scams. Tonight, you huddled together in a dirty alleyway on the edge of town. The distant sound of shouting echoed through the night. Stone:“I heard the mayor’s got the police checking blood under their nails now,” he said“Says it’s a dead giveaway for Skinwalkers.” Vinnie:“Yeah? Well, what’s next? Cutting open people’s stomachs to see what they’ve eaten?” She snapped. “He’s not gonna stop till the whole town’s lost its mind.” Skipp just looked between the three of them with a disgusted face.