A large black car drives down a lowly lit street, one that was just barely populated by the brackish masses of the homeless and destitute.

It was rather odd to see such a car in this particular area, though not that uncommon. The car itself was old and refined, but stylish, with a cool dark violet glossed matte that shone black in the night and slick roundabouts and an enframed curvature that made it standout even in the late night. The car was fashionable, kind of out of place, but no less charismatic with a sense of taste and class even in the modern day.

Then again, however, no matter what year, the 1996 Lincoln Town Car always was classy and nothing would ever change that.

“Ah’khai”, the driver grumbled, “fuck”.

Before him, the urban sprawl of the city of Los Angeles was nothing more than a cesspool of debauchery and filth.

Well, at least it was to Wilhelm.

Located near the center of Highland Park, the place to which he was driving used to be relatively lively and filled with people. But driving up Figueroa St. heading towards the intersection at York Blvd., he could see the damage done to the area leaving many of the buildings closed or outright abandoned. No doubt in part the pandemic took its toll; those 5 years it lasted the whole city took a sharp turn for the worst. What with the wildfires and pollution skyrocketing, it seemed almost as if the city itself was constantly under siege. Of course, the people of Los Angeles could always be counted on to casually snide these occurrences and try to enforce their own self-absorbed sense of propriety on common sense during the period, but Wilhelm found it amusing how the earthquake that followed shortly after the pandemic truly hit home how feeble and weak these superficialists actually were. In the grand scheme of things, they were no different from the starving hovels of humans in countries where access to clean water was scarce or the freedom of living to eat decent food was rare. They simply had to die on the rocky slab that was their own hubris in order to understand.

But he digressed.

Even in the daytime and the busyness of the wandering masses, this skid row of sorts felt antiquated and dilapidated, like it simply refused to adhere to the class and privilege it was surrounded by.

Or rather as far as Wilhelm was concerned, all of this was the case.

“Hmph”, he resolved softly grumbled to himself, “what a stinking shithole”.

Driving the limo half across LA, Wilhelm sat silent and astute, barely saying a word while the radio politely attuned his attention to the road, reporting on the latest headline of the evening.

According to the reporter, a recent spike of COVID-19 infections had resurfaced in various parts of the Middle East—namely, the country of Iran being the hardest hit in a string of sporadic upstarts across the globe. What was interesting, he mused as he listened, was that the virus had been effectively cured all but 2 years ago, only to return in seemingly random ticks due to reasons unknown.

Maybe it was governments and their experiments running amok, since it was eventually confirmed to have been created in one such lab. Maybe it was terrorists, who’ve started to take advantage of the chaos to make use of biological weapons and chemical warfare.

Maybe…

No, He stopped himself from thinking any further.

Now’s not the time for that.

He could’ve continued to ponder such in consequential things, it’s not like he didn’t before. But he couldn’t, and he wouldn’t, for now--especially now that is.

As it all currently stood, none of that really mattered.

Not to him at least.

And besides, he knew better of what was really going on to understand how the world truly worked in the shadows.

“Reports are sketchy at best”, said the reporter, a woman with a mild air of ambivalence given her British accent, “but according to official news outlets, only 237 cases have been openly documented. This, however, has largely contrasts the figures according to various public officials who say that there are actually more than 3,900 cases loosely spread across the country that have largely gone ignored. And with the death toll having now risen to nearly over 900+ a day, it seems these accusations have gained considerable traction.”

“To that end”, she went on, “riots have simultaneously broken out across Iran’s major cities as protestors decry the government for vehemently suppressing all knowledge of these claims in the hopes of retaining its political strength overseas. With the near disastrous peace talks with the United States during the WHO Health Consortium that was held in Geneva two weeks ago, these new developments have stifled any form of resolution to accurately providing proper medical aid to the region as many militia groups and separatist factions have sprung up decrying the state of the country now enduring its 3rd major drought in over 50 years.”

“In Tehran”, she concluded, “several districts have been completely shut down and currently, more than 20% of the city’s neighborhoods sit lifeless or largely abandoned as hundreds of citizens have fled into the countryside desperately looking for any refuge they can find. Unfortunately with vaccines rendered inaccessible due to government mandate over resource allocation, until the President’s official address during the press conference scheduled for Friday, there is little hope of—“

“I believe that that is quite enough Wilhelm”, saunters in the rich, ancient voice of the passenger in the backseat, “turn it off if you please”.

“Yes Master”, replies Wilhelm, clicking the power button on the radio dutifully. The pleasant chatter of the woman is emotionlessly silenced, and the quiet of the ride is only comforted by the low the hum of the air conditioning unit, leaving an air of meditation in its ambience.

Wilhelm looked down at the GPS on the dashboard, they’re not too far now from their destination, wherever that may be, then moves his eyes towards the clock. It’s 2:23 am; their arrival will be marred by an unsavory 2 minutes.

He scowls.

We’re late, he thinks.