I just finished a new part of Revoked; in this section, I introduce the other 2 main characters, and altogether, they form a trio of American-born residents in a new world. Again, I might consider posting more after this, but right now, I'll be leaving it at this. And I'm sorry if this continuation doesn't quite live up to the standards of the previous blog. Thanks, guys!

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Pedestrians walk along a well-trodded path, made in snow that has continually
accumulated on the sidewalk for over 3 days in a row. A strange
phenomenon in the weather; instead of usual weather, there were
always some form of snowfall. If a confident shower of snowflakes
were not present, light flurries would be in its stead, refusing to
let residents walk without something on their heads. The traffic on
the tar road is not as heavy, but there is still a car once in a
while to accompany the usual stream of bicycles. Nobody on this
stretch of flat land notices the man in a grey suit looking down on
them, behind a glass window on the Coleman A. Young Municipal Center.
He smiles at the scene, a scene that did not exist at this place in
the past, while drinking an unusually rare beverage only enjoyed by
the priviledged.

This mayor of Detroit is startled by sudden knocking on his office door.
The matter wasn't urgent; an assistant simply came to drop off a
tablet on his desk. Graphs and hasty notes scroll across the screen,
reporting on municipal finances. Closing his door, Habbas puts the
tablet aside and returns to admiring the outside. This time, he opts
to spend his short-lived free time looking at the flurries of snow
and thinking about the events that happened ever since he first saw
his birthplace transferred over by the American government to their
neighbours up north.

He catches a glance of a supply truck driving across the road below. A
full load of rambutan arrives first in the city, heading towards the
municipal distribution centre; a convenient reminder that it is time
to get back to work, as foreign products are hauled into the city
while the clock strikes past 1PM. "I hope Elise is doing
fine...", he murmurs to himself, sighing as a pen is picked up
and is quickly back to writing signatures on the tablet, in front of
a cup of hot chocolate.

Pitch black. In this small room, the only thing not hiding in the shadows
is a computer monitor, shining brightly and lighting up the scene,
revealing a few plush toys sitting on a bed, a dustbin almost filled
to the brim, and a mature teenage girl staring enthusiastically at
the screen. Instead of being close to blinded, she endures the strain
on her eyes easily, paying far more attention to the text she is
reading and typing.

"Panko-san, 'Help Penny with a Penny' is coming up at the end of this month! Are
you coming this year? Or are you going to be absent again?",
asks an internet friend. If one of her thousands of followers asked
her, she would give a short, cheerful and overly vague answer, but
she wouldn't torture one of the few friends she has with such
treatment. Leaving the rest of her feed for a minute later, she takes
the time to reply immediately with something a bit more explanatory.
Nevertheless, she declines; taking note of a very important
livestream on that date, she would simply let the rest of the city of
Pennsylvania spend the day helping each other out. She will be
staying at home, with a document ready to be typed, with new ideas to
listen to, and little did she know, with revolutionary thoughts to be
wary of. Briefly opening the calendar on the taskbar, "America
is Weak" (a very confusing statement, given recent events) is
quietly marked on the 12th of November.