Bastion barged into the costume shop, slipping through the door before it was all the way open. He’d never really been physically imposing, but Tim was even less so. The shopkeeper recoiled, stumbling into the box of curios and sending them clattering across the floor.

  “So,” said Bastion, slamming the fish suit down on the counter and flinging water everywhere. “You’re the guy who sent us into that death trap with zero warning.”

  “I…uuh,” Tim stammered, as droplets dripped from his chin.

  Roy clanged through the doorway, propping it open with the trident as he squeezed his bulky suit through it.

  “You got it?” Tim asked, momentarily forgetting Bastion’s entrance. “Seriously?”

  “We did,” Bastion continued. “Very little thanks to you. You told us nothing. Especially about the dozen other people you sent down there before us.”

  “Dozen—-oh. That’s not good.”

  “No, it fucking isn’t,” Bastion spat.

  “That really wasn’t cool, Tim,” said Roy. “If you’d let us know we weren’t the first people you gave diving suits to, we wouldn’t have been caught off guard when the fighting started.”

  “I thought they just took the free suits and skipped town,” said Tim.

  “Bullshit,” Bastion snapped.

  “You’ve gotta believe me. I didn’t know anyone died. Did they—uh, drown, or…”

  “Automaton got them,” said Bastion. “And crabs, including a giant one.”

  “Oh.” Tim fell silent as it sank in.

  “Wait,” said Roy. “How many of these suits did you hand out?”

  “About fifty. You got the last one.”

  Roy turned to Bastion. “He was right. Most people did just take the suits and run. Probably got on a ship and went after easier salvage.”

  “Or decided it was a pirate’s life for them and went south.” Bastion shook his head. “Those guys are probably living it up in the Keys with amazing underwater armor while I got stuck with the fish suit.”

  “How’d the fish suit work?” asked Tim, genuinely curious.

  “Barely,” said Bastion.

  “Look guys, I didn’t mention all the other suits I gave out because I didn’t want to sound like a failure. I’m new here and I really don’t want to disappoint the Mayor: I shouldn’t even be talking about this— he told me not to say more than I had to.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Bastion. “Did Big Time put you up to this?”

  “I can’t say any more. You’ll need to go and see him yourself. He’s over in the grand hotel.”

  “We’ll do that,” said Bastion. “But first we’ll have our tokens.”

  “And the bigger prize you mentioned too,” Roy added, remembering the little knight’s instructions.

  “The tokens are all here,” Tim said, handing over a bag. “And like I said, take anything you need from the store. For the other thing, you’ll need to ask Mayor Big Time. I can’t say more without getting in trouble.”

  Roy rooted through the pile of plastic curios on the floor and picked out the ones he wanted. “OK. I’ll take the stick-on stars, the endless popcorn bucket, and the ice cream dinosaur.”

  “Ice cream dinosaur?” asked Bastion.

  “Just a piece of plastic for now, but I’m hopeful.”

  Then Roy turned back to Tim. “It’s a real shame you don’t have any better armor in here. I can’t move fast enough in the diving suit to use it when we head inland, and anything would be better than the ordinary clothes we have now.”

  “Well, I’ve got the key to Sports Warehouse. The Mayor said I could use it for storage when I get more stock in. The stuff in there isn’t really costumes, though. Maybe you can make something out of it.”

  They probably couldn’t, but they’d just met someone who could.

  “Thanks,” Roy exchanged the trident for the key and followed Bastion back out of the shop.

  ***

  The door to Sports Warehouse was jammed. After turning the key, Roy had to body-slam it open.

  It was dim inside, lit only by the open doorway and a few holes in the roof. Water had seeped in over the decades, giving the whole place a thick, musty smell.

  Faded tatters that had once been football jerseys and sneakers hung on the walls, chewed to shreds by mice and insects. The mushrooms, at least, were thriving.

  “Huh,” said Bastion.

  “What’re you thinking?” asked Roy.

  “The only thing that did any damage here was time. When the Warp hit, a place like Bay Town would’ve been overrun by monsters coming from the sea, plus spooky spirits because of the Victorian theme.”

  “Maybe it was both at once. Ghost sharks?” Part of Roy found the idea of a ghost shark terrifying. Everyone knew ghosts could float through the air, so a ghost shark wouldn’t be bound to the ocean; it could attack you anywhere. It would also be made of intangible ectoplasm. How would you even attack something like that? The other part of Roy thought ghost sharks sounded really cool and hoped to see one.

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  “Yeah, but my point is they didn’t get in here. This store was about selling things cheap, with barely any theming. So the workers just bailed and nobody looted it afterwards, because there were no weapons or costumes to help them fight the ghost sharks and giant crabs and whatever else was out there. Which means there’s probably still some usable stuff in here.”

  “Or stuff that W. can use, at least.”

  Bastion nodded and pointed to a row of soggy cardboard boxes, their tops bulging with plastic wrap. “Plastic will last pretty much until the end of time, so anything wrapped in it is probably still good.”

  They began tearing into the boxes. Roy used his sword, but didn’t go much faster than Bastion because he had to be careful not to cut the merchandise.

  Inside the packaging was a mix of black and white plastic and fabric, though some of the larger pieces were in bold neon colors.

  “You say there’s no theming,” said Roy. “But from the movies I’ve watched, some of the sports got really extreme toward the end. I’d have thought something like X-League Football would count as a theme on its own.”

  “Yeah, but those guys wore powered exoskeletons and ultra-light alloys. That’s not gear the public could really afford.”

  Roy thought about that. When you looked at pre-Warp technology in the movies, it was easy to think that everyone had all of it, but he supposed it was more like magic; only a few people had the very best.

  “I don’t expect any Motorcycle Dueling gear either,” said Bastion. “That wasn’t the kind of sport that a lot of people took up, though in that case it’s not just that the bikes were expensive, it’s that you were extremely likely to end up with a lance-shaped hole in your chest.”

  “I really wish I could watch a Motorcycle Duel. They sound awesome.”

  “Maybe we’ll find a circuit out here somewhere. They’d probably do it like in Star City — guns instead of lances, so it’s safer with themed armor. Timing matters more, but there’s less of an impact. Even our craziest sport isn’t as crazy as it used to be.”

  Bastion pulled a piece of navy and white armor from a box. It was the right shape to cover just the chest and shoulders. “Look for hockey gear like this. Enough people played both flame and regular versions that the gear might still be fireproof.”

  “On it.”

  In the end, Roy found two pieces of chest armor, a set of white lacrosse arm guards, hockey gloves, and some soccer shin pads.

  “This stuff looks sort of like a suit of armor already,” he said.

  Choosing between the chest pieces was tough. The hockey one was bulkier and covered the upper arms and back, but the baseball chest protector had a segmented structure that looked closer to the steel plate mail he wanted to imitate.

  It was a trade-off between coverage and theming. In the end, he decided to take both and decide later.

  He also grabbed a pair of high-top sneakers to replace his worn-out, wet boots. If he wore those much longer, his feet would start growing as many mushrooms as the walls around him. The sneakers didn’t really match the knight theme, but they were the best option he could find in his size.

  Bastion had less luck. None of the body armor pieces were what he wanted. He did however, find a pair of archery arm guards he liked, plus some sturdy hiking boots and fingerless catcher’s gloves he said would be good for shooting.

  He turned down a pair of black paintball holsters. “The one I’ve got’s better than that.”

  “Better here means matching a theme,” said Roy. “Have you decided on one yet?”

  “Sort of. I like shooting, but not the whole colonial military type thing we had to wear in the cadets.”

  “Shooting, eh?” Roy said, perking up. “Well, you’ve got noir detective, maverick cop, spy, action hero, tactical sniper; hunters in swamp, forest, and mountain varieties; space marine, space bounty hunter, retro space explorer.” He paused, taking a breath. “Personally, I’d suggest pirate, but from what Tim said, that’s the absolute last costume we’ll find around here.”

  “Any kind of cop or military guy doesn’t feel right to me,” said Bastion. “Too much like authority, you know? I didn’t run away from living under the boot just to dress up as the boot myself.”

  “So that rules out spy too?”

  “Yeah, also I’d never keep a spy suit clean out there.”

  “Ok. Action hero?”

  Bastion gave him a flat look. “You’ve got the build for slo-mo explosions. I don’t. And before you say it, all the space themes are no-go too. Those costumes need specialized parts and flashing lights.”

  “Hunter?”

  Bastion stopped to consider it. “Close, but that’s more living away from the rules. I want a theme that’s about breaking them.” A look of realization dawned on Bastion’s face. “In the Star City Market, sometimes I’d see these gunslinger guys. Treasure hunters with cowboy hats, duster coats, and leather bandoliers full of ammo. They could reload a revolver so fast their hands blurred, and then fire off six shots and hit every one of them. I always thought they were so cool.”

  Roy hadn’t seen many westerns. For some reason, by the time of the Warp there weren’t a lot of them available on Ultra-Disc. From what Bastion had told him, you didn’t need to see the movies anymore to get your fill of gunslingers. You could just head to the edge of the Republic’s borders and see their stories playing out for real.

  “Sounds like you’ve already decided then,” Roy said.

  Bastion nodded. “Maybe once I finish my costume I’ll be able to ricochet bullets over and over, or shoot a coin out of the air to win a bet. My leather holster is better for that theme than these fabric ones, so I think I made the right call keeping what I’ve got. The rest of this gear gets me a little closer, even if my Dragoon isn’t working right now.”

  “If you get the theming right, it might start working again. You still need to find more ammo though, and until then you need some kind of weapon.”

  Roy looked at a wall of rubber bats and tennis rackets. Unsurprisingly, the low cost sports-ware shop was lacking in well preserved firearms.

  He did find something though, after wiping the dust from one of the thinner boxes they’d set aside earlier.

  “What about this?” He handed Bastion a composite sports crossbow. “I know it’s not a gun, but it’s got decent draw strength, and I bet you’ll be accurate with it.”

  Bastion examined it. “Crossbows are basically cowboy long guns if you squint hard enough.” He gave it a few test pulls. “Yeah, this’ll do.”

  He rummaged through the pile of discarded chest protectors and used velcro straps to fashion a rough sling. “Till I get my revolver back online, I guess I’m robbing stagecoaches medieval-style.”

  “Right. We’re not actually doing that though.”

  “Figuratively, but also maybe literally.”

  “We’re not robbing anyone.”

  “We can rob bad people, right? You’ve got to be OK with that.”

  “Sure.”

  Roy was glad Bastion had thought of a theme that resonated with him. For him, the choice had been obvious for years.

  After his dad went missing, reality had felt wrong, like all the color had drained out of it.

  The friends he’d had then weren't like the ones people had in the movies, those true companions who’d do anything for each other. When Roy hit his low point, when he wasn’t fun to be around anymore, they’d just stopped talking to him.

  He’d joined the cadets, trained all the time, but he was just going through the motions. Watching movies was the only time he’d still felt like things were OK.

  He must have watched Future Knight a hundred times since then. Since that one night during a freak cold snap, when Bastion found him shivering in the outdoor movie theater and gave him a combination TV/Ultra-Disc player.

  Bastion had said it was just collecting dust in his garage anyway. Roy still didn't think he realized how much that had meant to him.

  That movie had reminded him that more was possible, that there was a world of color and magic and hope, and all he needed to do was make it there. Then he’d be who he was always meant to be.

  Bastion grinned. “Now, let's get going and meet this Big Time guy nobody can shut up about.”