Ben wasn’t lying when he said he knew a warehouse full of clothes. Hiro picked out some things, Ben stuffed them into a plastic bag, and after they found another price scanner, the two headed to the East River for Hiro to wash off.

  “I’ll hang here while you do what you gotta do,” Ben said, crossing his arms. “And tell your dog to quit lookin’ at me like I’m dinner left on the porch too long.”

  “I wish I could say he listened to me, but he sort of does his own thing.”

  Ben just stood there for a moment, Hiro catching a glimpse of himself in the dark reflection of his helmet before the man finally spoke again. “Had a dog like that, back in Laurel. He was a sweetheart once you got to know him.”

  “Is that where you’re from, Laurel?”

  “Born and raised.”

  “Is that in Mississippi? Or Alabama?”

  “You ask someone from Mississippi that, and you’ll likely get cussed out. Heh. And I’m just kiddin’ with ya. Here’s your stuff.” He handed Hiro the bag of clothes.

  Hiro took it and turned toward the river, remembering the skeletal crocodile monster he’d once fought in these waters. He scanned the murky surface, wary, as Hachi trotted beside him, sticking close.

  Setting his backpack down, Hiro reached for Mishka, who yawned and stretched in an almost exaggerated way, smacking her tiny fabric lips.

  “Awwww…” Bianca cooed. “Such a cutie. I can’t believe she’s slept through all this.”

  “She’s hungry.” Hiro pulled a Survivor Tender from his bag, and as expected, the prompt popped up:

  [Your Survivor Tenders have been poisoned. Pay 500 Soul Cash to remove the poison? Y/N?]

  “Yes.”

  A faint green tint faded from the food, and Hiro handed the tender to Mishka, who immediately gobbled it up, making a soft, satisfied sound.

  I’m not going to think about how she eats or what happens after, Hiro decided as he turned back to the water.

  Taking a deep breath, he stripped down and waded in. The moment the cold hit him, he sucked in a sharp breath. “Shit, that’s freezing.”

  He whistled for Hachi, expecting the dog to hesitate, but much to his surprise, Hachi jumped in. The Shiba paddled forward, his ears pinned back slightly, eyes squinting against the water. His movements were strong, steady, but there was something intensely serious about the way he swam—like it was an objective he needed to complete rather than a fun thing to do.

  Hiro blinked. “Huh.”

  “I can’t believe I’m bathing in the East River,” Bianca said, lowering herself in with her tentacles. “This is definitely not something I had on my bucket list.”

  “The water’s cold,” Hiro said, his teeth chattering as he scrubbed his arms. He dipped his face in again and came back up for air. “But at least it’s getting the crap off.”

  “And I still can’t believe you actually went with that attack.”

  “It worked, didn’t it?”

  “Did it, though? That’s the kind of attack you should unleash on someone as more of a hit-and-run scenario. Or, if a Survivor is being a real asshole. You climb a rooftop and snipe them from above.”

  “With shit-filled balloons?”

  The shield floated onto her back. “Exactly. I was a good swimmer, you know. Loved swimming. Guess I still have a pretty good backstroke as a shield.” She demonstrated with a lazy drift across the water.

  “Swimming was hard to do in the city,” he said as he washed his hair.

  “What do you mean? There are fitness clubs with pools everywhere. Wait—oh, right. You’re… I don’t want to say poor. Something about different socioeconomic classes?”

  “Something like that.” Done with the cold water, Hiro climbed out. He grabbed an oversized shirt from the warehouse haul and used it to dry off. Since his duct tape armor had held up, he decided to reinforce by wrapping additional layers around his upper arms and fingers, creating makeshift knuckle guards. Anticipating more fights against samurai, he fashioned a crude gorget around his neck to protect against slashes. He did the same for his thighs and shins. With Bianca’s help, he used the last of the duct tape to reinforce his ribs.

  “Look at me, I’m like your personal seamstress over here.”

  “Thanks,” Hiro said, adjusting the tape.

  “Where would you be without me?”

  “Probably dead.”

  This answer seemed to please her. “Probably. What about Hachi? Should we try putting the mask on him?”

  Hiro pulled the mask from his backpack and held it up to the demonic Shiba Inu, who immediately stiffened, his fur bristling as a deep, guttural growl rumbled from his throat. His ears pinned back, eyes locked onto the mask like it was something unnatural.

  “Try feeding him,” Bianca suggested. “Maybe you can entice him with food.”

  Hiro took out another Survivor Tender, noting he only had a couple left. “Come here, boy,” he said cautiously.

  Hachi crept forward, his muscles still tense, his gaze never leaving the mask.

  “Just try it.”

  Hachi’s lips curled, a snarl rising into something more dangerous.

  “Fine, have it your way.” Hiro tossed him the tender and tucked the mask away. “We’ll try again later.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  ###

  After slipping into a hoodie, a pair of loose jeans that required a belt, and the same shoes he’d been wearing for a while now—reinforced with duct tape—Hiro approached Ben.

  “You look cleaned up.”

  “I feel cleaned up,” Hiro told the larger man.

  “In that case, let’s do this,” Ben said, drawing his price scanner.

  “Any activity?”

  “Just a few of them barcode babies, but they were easy enough to deal with. They’re all over the dang place here.”

  “I didn’t see them in Manhattan, but we do have roving piles of trash.”

  “Ah, hell,” Ben muttered with clear disdain.

  Hiro examined his own price scanner. “Point and squeeze, right?”

  “Yup. This shit ain’t rocket science. Gets you followers too, and cash.”

  “Cool.”

  Reaching the Manhattan Bridge would take about an hour on foot, leading them past the Brooklyn Navy Yard, through Vinegar Hill, and into Dumbo. Hiro would have preferred sticking to the waterline—it would have meant only one exposed side—but there wasn’t a clear path along the shore.

  “Don’t worry, I know a shortcut,” Ben said casually as he aimed his price scanner at an incoming barcode baby and zapped it. The creature exploded into confetti.

  “Oh, I’ve got to get in on this,” Bianca said.

  Hiro handed her the scanner, and she moved off his back.

  “Been meaning to ask—what’s with your shield, man? It thinks on its own or something?” Ben asked him.

  “Believe it or not, there’s a person trapped in there. A teenage girl.”

  Zap!

  “A violent one,” Hiro clarified.

  “Got you, bitch!” Bianca blasted another barcode baby. “And yoooo, I’m not just some rando person. Tell him I’m awesome.” She wiggled in place, doing some kind of shimmying dance, price scanner still clutched in her tentacle.

  Another baby crawled over a wall. Bianca spun and zapped it mid-motion. “This thing is amazing.”

  You have new followers!

  You got cash!

  Ben shrugged at the sight. “Nope, don’t phase me anymore. I’ve seen so much wild shit.”

  “Same, and she’s cool,” Hiro replied. “Her name’s Bianca. I met her in Central Park.”

  “Bianca, nice to meet you,” Ben called over to her, but she was too focused on shooting at barcode babies to hear him. “Did you say Central Park?”

  “I did.”

  “I bet it’s crazy there. I was meaning to get over to Manhattan all last Interim. Kept getting wrapped up in things over here, believe you me.”

  “I know how that goes,” Hiro said, remembering the Doom Sample Sale and everything else he had been caught up in. Hard to believe it had only been a few days ago, if that. Looking back, it felt like another lifetime. “How’d you get over here, anyway?” he asked as Bianca fried another barcode baby with the price scanner.

  You have new followers!

  You got cash!

  “You mean to Brooklyn, or the City in general?”

  “The City in general. I’d ask why you didn’t take a superpower, but I’m tired of that question. More interesting to me now is why someone would be here in the first place.”

  “My family felt the same way,” Ben said. “But I had to get out of Laurel. I worked for a logistics company before and, hell, after the Damn System appeared. But before it appeared, I went through a nasty divorce, put in for a transfer, just trying to get as far away from Mississippi as I could. That happened to be here. Well, there was an opening in Seattle too, but they sent me here. Then the System came. And I stayed on.”

  “Why?”

  “I couldn’t tell you. Just felt like it was what I needed to do, and now I’m here.” He blasted a barcode baby that had been about to jump down from a rooftop. “Heh. Little bastard. What about you?”

  “I missed Tokyo. I would’ve just moved there, but it can be hard for someone like me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  You have new followers!

  You got cash!

  “How much do you know about Japanese culture?” Hiro asked, ignoring the prompts flashing in his periphery and the way Bianca snickered every time she landed a shot.

  “Not too much. Watched a few animes, that’s about it.”

  “Even though I speak Japanese, part of me still thinks and acts like an American, which can make it hard there sometimes.”

  “Because you’re half, right? I ain’t trying to step out of bounds here or nothin’. For all I know, you could be, well, whatever. You know what? I’ll just shut up and let you finish.”

  “I’m half,” Hiro confirmed. “It’s easier for me here in some ways, but I do miss a lot of things about Japan. Anyway, when the chance to move to New York came up, I took it. And then the Doom System happened, and I basically became homeless. Lived in the subway.”

  Ben whistled low. “Shit, man. What were you doing before that?”

  “Here in the City? Delivery jobs, warehouse work. Anything that paid.”

  “And yet here you are, fighting your way through this mess.” Ben aimed his price scanner and zapped a barcode baby before it could crawl over a rusted-out car. “That says something about you, don’t it? Says something about us all. Maybe you weren’t the guy you thought you were before all this, same goes for me.”

  Hiro exhaled, considering that.

  “I ain’t fancy with words,” Ben went on, “but I do think when the going gets tough, people show you who they really are. So… what now?”

  “Aside from surviving?”

  “Yeah. What’s your reason for keepin’ on? ‘Cause I got mine.”

  Hiro glanced at him. “Yeah?”

  Ben stepped over some debris, his voice thoughtful. “Back in Laurel, I was just existing. Same routine, day in, day out. Work, go home, maybe have a couple of beers, and repeat. When the Damn System hit, I figured that was it. End of the road.” He zapped a barcode baby, its remains fluttering like confetti. “But now? Feels like a test. Like somethin’ bigger’s watching, waitin’ to see if I got it in me to keep going. Don’t know if it’s God or not, but I like to think that. Sometimes. Until it gets rough. Then I think it’s something else.”

  They reached a crumbling bank building, its windows shattered, jagged glass glinting in the streetlight glow. The inside was dark, empty, a relic of an entire financial world that no longer existed.

  “Even so, I want to get back there—to my hometown,” Ben said. “So I guess that’s why I keep on keepin’ on. It won’t be easy. I’ve been kickin’ myself for not leaving sooner, when it was still possible, before this shit got real-real. You know what I mean. Thought about trying to hitchhike—heh—but there ain’t no working cars. Might could go it on foot, but man, that’d be one hell of a journey.” He exhaled sharply. “So I survive. I survive ‘cause I damn sure hope there’s a light at the end of this here tunnel. You?”

  Me? Hiro never got the chance to answer before Hachi started barking up a storm, his stance rigid, ears flat.

  “Welp,” Ben said, already drawing his weapon, “your dog barking means we’re about to get into something, I reckon.”

  Hiro’s eyes locked onto the object in Ben’s hand. That’s really it? A pen? The big man twirled it through his fingers, catching Hiro’s skepticism immediately.

  Ben smirked. “Might not look like much, but it gets the job done. You act like I ain’t got some other tricks up my sleeve. Don’t worry about that. Whatever that damn dog of yours is losing his mind over, we’ll give it hell. Believe you me.”

  They had just started moving when a haunting melody drifted toward them, weaving through the air. It wasn’t until it grew louder, more distinct, that Hiro placed the sound—panpipes. Soon as you recognize the sound a bronze-skinned faun stepped out of the gloom. Its body was lean and wiry, covered in faintly iridescent fur that shimmered when it moved. The faun stopped a few feet away and Hachi went wild, barking his head off but never lunging, the dog’s instincts caught between warning and wariness.

  The faun lowered its panpipes and grinned, its face shifting unnaturally, like something else was writhing just beneath the surface. “Why, hello,” it said, voice smooth and knowing. “I’m glad you could make it, Survivors.”