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The shimmering, golden lights of a city covered in snow, the hustle of commuters in the streets, hover cars whizzing by like high velocity planes, and the flashy advertisements displayed on buses and large monitors on buildings made up the majority of District 2. Garland B. Silva was walking towards a small newspaper building on a neon-blue, transparent road, dressed in a white-button-up shirt concealed by a knitted sweater, his black duster coat, black slacks and the rest of his usual get-up, with his two-tone black-and-gold shoes, his dark-green vest, and a black fedora--a different choice of hatwear for work--furnished with a plastic red heart suit symbol to top it off. He brought with him a brown leather briefcase which looked rather big to begin with, accompanied by a look mixed with disinterest and knowing. Above him was a High Roller match being displayed, which appeared to be over.

"And the victory goes to... Marcus, The Blazing Phoenix, who will be moving on to the semifinals!" came the announcement from one of the large television screens above as the winner of the quarterfinals--an overly-muscular, male anthro Hyacinth Macaw parrot dressed in a white wife beater and blue jeans--of a High Roller tournament, congratulating the victor as he swaggered about on screen, drumming his hands on his chiseled chest and shouting, "The Phoenix always rises from the ashes, and burns down all who stand before him! Lemme tell you somethin', folks: you don't get to where I am by being lazy! You have to have the fuel, the fire, the passion to get in the ring and slam 'em down!" An eruption of cheers echoed through the streets from the gigantic virtual display as Garland paid it no mind.

Ah'll hafta thank Martha for knittin' this sweatah' for me, his thoughts echoed within his mind, Southern accent and all, as he walked through the doors to the lobby of the ten-story building. The guard welcomed him with a smile and a wave, Garland reciprocating such actions as he walked over to push the up button on the elevator, waiting patiently for the metal carriage to arrive.

"Another busy day, Garland?" the guard said, to which the komodo turned around and replied, "Yup. You know how it gets with her." The elevator door opened, and the disgruntled anthro walked in, pressing a button marked "57". As he watched the doors close, he felt his heart at such unease, tension rising in his being.

Yup, another day at work. Another day with her. The elevator music began to grate. The tapping of feet echoed in the empty metal container as it rose higher and higher towards his destination...

Ding! The doors opened to the cacophonous sounds of keyboard click-clacking, papers shuffling, telephones ringing, and people moving from one side of the office to the other greeted the komodo as his eyes looked slowly around, witnessing how much of a busy place it was; a normal sight for him. He walked forward from the elevator, greeting his co-workers as he walked to clock in for work. After he'd done so, he went over to a small room to make himself some hot chocolate.

"Hey, Garland!" came a high-pitched voice from behind, slightly irritating the fedora-wearing komodo as he quickly regained his composure and turned to see a thin, female, tri-colored red, blue and chocolate-coated anthro border collie, dressed in female business-wear, looking at him with a glint of happy-go-luckiness in her eyes.

"Hello, Amanda," replied Garland. "How've you been today?"

"I've been really peachy today!" she said, putting her hands behind her back, leaning forward and back on the tips of her toes a bit. "My family and I all went on a kayaking trip over the holidays! I still can't believe my uncle tried to catch a fish while he was rowing, though; almost fell off the boat!"

"Well, he's certainly a quirky character, isn't he," Garland said, taking a sip of his drink. "Ah remembah' him askin' me if ah wanted to see his seashell collection once when we had that house party at your place; said he'd gathered all of them for years!" The two had themselves a quick chuckle. "Your uncle certainly knows how to fight, too, and his High Rollah' weapon is somethin' unique. Shame he lost in the quarterfinals, though."

"Yeah.. He almost won, too.. Looks like it's takeout for lunch and dinner--again." Amanda's annoyance was soon followed by her asking, "So, you think you can avoid her today?" The komodo looked confused. "Erhm, pardon?"

"Oh, uh... One of the guys said you were 'Elena's favorite'." She looked a bit timid, her fingers crossing and uncrossing as she placed her hands behind her back. "They've been talking about it behind your back and everything..."

"Who said that?" Garland asked, his face abound with curiosity. As the nervous girl was about to deliver the answer, a slightly pudgy panther chameleon, also dressed in typical business-wear, walked towards them, saying, "Hey, Garland! Amanda." Amanda seemed a bit shocked before realizing it was her co-worker, and smiled nervously. He held out his hand to shake with them, which they both obliged to. "Good to see you again, Greg," came Garland's deadpan greeting.

"So, how's 'Elena's favorite' doing?" the fat lizard asked, his voice coming off a tad snide.

"Fine, thank you. She hasn't called me in to her office yet; so far, so good, ah suppose." Garland took another drink of his hot chocolate. "So, what's with this whole business about me being mah boss's 'favorite'?"

"No reason. You guys just seem to meet a lot during work," Greg said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Ah see." Garland looked for a way to exit the conversation posthaste, and saw the pile of work squatting on his desk like an unpleasant amalgamation of tedium, soul-draining review and poor grammar waiting to be had at. "Well, ah'd best not keep Ms. Makarov waitin'; gotta take care of some work. You know how she gets about that sort of thing." As he walked towards his desk, the other two looked at each other; Greg with a skeptical look on his face and Amanda being clueless.

"You think they're seeing each other?" Greg asked Amanda, to which she replied, "I don't think so." Greg looked back at Garland, crossing his arms. "If you ask me, they are. She's called him in three times this week; she's probably asking him about a secret rendezvous with him later. Tch." Greg put his hands in his pockets as disgust came upon his face, shaking his head. "It's always 'the usual' with them. I don't buy it."

"Maybe she's just asking for some tips..?" the poodle suggested, putting her left index finger to her chin. "I mean, when she goes over some of my stuff, she tends to forget a few things.. And Garland's the best we've got at this thing!"

"I dunno. He's such a nice guy about it; kinda unsettles me." Greg sighed as he looked out the window at the rest of the luminescent District, sighing.

"What happened with your last one?" she asked. Greg gave her an irritated look. "You seriously forgot? They laid me off; said they didn't need me anymore. Had enough employees who could do the job better, but I tell you what; I worked harder and longer than they ever did. They were all just jealous." He grunted angrily, watching Garland going to work. "Fat load of bullcrap is what it is."

"I don't think Garland's got it in for you," Amanda said. "He's just doing his job, that's all."

"Well, when you get to a certain age," Greg said, "You find people tend to be pretty damn jealous of you in some way." As the two talked out of earshot of the busy komodo, Garland went over each of the papers studiously, filling out the reports as quickly as he could, before getting a call on his phone. Picking it up, he replied, "Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Silva. I'd like to see you in my office within thirty minutes, no later. There's some things we need to discuss." The stern voice of Elena Makarov rang through the phone like an epicurean bell as Garland's face contorted into one of displeasure. "Very well, Ele--"

"Ms. Makarov. This is a place of business, after all." Garland replied to her, "Alright, Ms. Makarov. Ah'll see you in thirty minutes."

"Good." The other end went silent, and Garland hurriedly went through the reports and stories, being careful to avoid mistakes. As the time came, he got up from his desk and walked over to Elena's office, which was surrounded by large, plexiglass windows shrouded by flimsy blinds, with a frost-patterned door leading into the rectangular space. The steadfast komodo opened the door and walked in to see the female, fairly toned, anthro Iberian lynx he worked for, dressed in striped, dark grey, female three-piece business wear, with her dark grey blazer buttoned up, covering her orchid button-up shirt. Her long, golden-blonde locks complimented her suit and her teal eyes. She was tending to reports of her own; a fairly large amount, too, as they were stacked rather high.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Silva. Please take a seat," she replied, not even looking up from her work. As the lanky komodo took his seat in front of the cluttered desk before him, drumming his fingers on his knees, his boss pulled a few papers from a set stack. "Now, I've called you here to discuss your current work efforts. You've definitely fallen behind on your editing skills, as well as failed to remain unbiased on a few of these stories..." She handed him a copy of one of his reports, which Garland took and looked over. He pored over the story, noticing a few of his sources at the end were marked. "Other than that, you still remain accurate--" The cheers from one of the TV screens outside abruptly interrupted her as she expertly hid her irritation, took in a deep breath, and continued, "Garland, I can't keep you here like this. We have to maintain our integrity as a corporate news business, and bias doesn't make us look very professional. I don't want to have to give you another warning about that."

"Ah understand," Garland replied.

"I know you understand. I want to see results; show me you can walk the walk at The Inside Scoop without letting your opinions get the better of you." She pored over more of his works. "Your story about poverty in the lower Districts is another glaring example.."

"Because it's an important issue," Garland said, crossing his legs. "Folks in those Districts can't subsist on what they've got for too long. People need to know about that sort of thing." He leaned forward a bit, narrowing his eyes, furrowing his forehead as he said, "It's bad enough they have to live in such terrible conditions, and--"

"I agree," Elena cut him off, retaining her stern gaze on Garland. "However, preaching about it so much won't work, and besides, there's already a few well-known charities trying to work towards that goal." She let the papers in her hands drop to her desk, leaning forward and taking off her glasses. "People will act on this when they do. Okay? I'd like to help as much as anyone else, but we have ourselves to look after first, and prices these days aren't exactly too friendly to anyone." An inward sigh followed her statement before saying, "Other than that, that's all I wanted to talk to you about. There's some new stories to cover, and I suggest you get to them posthaste." Garland nodded as he calmly exited his seat and left the room, almost swearing he could hear, "Damn High Roller matches... Miserable waste of time is what it all is..." Amanda was in her cubicle next to Garland's, and as she saw him return to his desk, she inquired, "Well, what did she want to talk to you about?"

"Oh, the usual; gotta stay on top of things, gotta keep objective, et-cetera." He walked by Greg's desk, catching his gaze out of the corner of his dulled, reptilian eye. The komodo sat down at his desk and got back to work, boredom blanketed around his mind like a dull, flat shroud. The hours went by, the research exhausting and tiresome, with the culmination still feeling as distant as the evening stars. Finally, after the day was done and night settled in, Garland finished his work and prepared to leave. As he got up, he took notice of Elena's office, still shut out from the rest of the others, opaque to the eyes of all who looked upon it. Garland's face remained blank as he walked toward the elevator and got in, but as the doors almost finished closing, a lithe, feminine hand sprung out in between, stopping the doors from sealing shut. Garland woke from his boredom-induced stupor and saw the hand just as the doors slowly opened again.

"Elena?" he said curiously. Who he saw instead was...

"Hi, Garland," came Amanda's worried voice. "I hope work didn't tire you out too much today."

"Oh, you know how it is; same old, same old." Amanda stood next to him as the elevator closed and the two were carried down in the metallic container to the first floor. "So what now?" she tentatively asked, noticing the overworked komodo's eyes droop.

"Ah'm goin' to go visit Martha again. She's lookin' aftah' mah daughter while she's recoverin', bless her soul." He stood with his hands behind his back, clasped together.

"Oh, goodness.." Amanda looked away towards the ground. "How is Lilly?"

"Doin' bettah'; ah'm lucky she isn't eating through a straw aftah' what happened." Garland watched the lights flick on for the various floors as they continued to descend towards ground level. Putting a clenched fist to her chest, Amanda looked back at the komodo and said, rather seriously, "Listen, if you need any help, I can give you some money to help pay for medicine or treatments. My folks live in District 1, and they're really rich, giving people, and--"

"There's no need, Amanda," Garland interrupted. "You don't have to give me anything. Lilly is my responsibility, and ah'll see to her as much as I can."

Ding! The elevator arrived at ground level, and the two walked out, with Amanda soon lagging behind as she stood looking at her coworker; gone was the plucky look in her eye, instead replaced with a determined seriousness. As Garland noticed she'd stopped, he looked and said, "If ah need your help, ah'll ask for it. Ah know you really want to help, but there's no need to worry about me." Amanda looked down. "Okay." She walked alongside him as the two exited the building, the spectacle embracing them in bright flashes of light from the contestants' weapons on the monitors above. "Maybe we can invite you over for poker at the bar in District 5, Garland."

"Well, ah'll have to check mah' schedule, but we'll see." As the two walked away towards the train station, a figure from the 57th floor looked down from the windows. Elena watched another High Roller match take place on the screen, from an adjacent building nearby.

"And now, it's time to roll the dice and place your bets in the final match of the Gambler's Fallacy Tournament! Marcus, the Blazing Phoenix vs... The Devil Spider!" She turned her attention away from the spectacle and the roar of the crowd blaring from the speakers as she got back to her work, carefully sorting through the papers. As she did, she came upon more of Garland's work.

In all honesty, he really is the best I've got at this business. She continued to work into the night, the walls around her being her only comfort in the dead of night.