Five days after the Battle of the Happy Warehouse; evening.

“Come now, pork pie. It’s only been a couple days. Last thing you need it to bust a stitch just ‘cause you’re impatient.”

“Since when do you care, bear?” Bruce grunted as he hoisted himself onto his elbows.

“Oh don’t go all sixes and sevens on me, ham hock. I don’t care about that. I just don’t wanna end up doing your job.”

Bruce chuckled and winced as he rolled from to his side and into a seated position. He wiggled his toes as his legs dangled from the edge of the bed.

“Where is she?”

“Yeah… Well, she’s fixin’ to scrap with the thing in the heart, I gather. What say we let her handle that, yeah?”

Bruce stood, steadying himself with the edge of the bed a moment. Pepper watched his toes flex, grasping the marble floor as they worked to keep him upright.

“One mention of the bunny and logic gets the ol’ defenestration treatment. Ain’t it just the way?” Pepper added, as Bruce stepped into a pair of crocs.

In the forge, the Regent, the Duchess, Alice, and Henry watched as Zer0 snipped her safety scissors at the air in front of the Polly Pocket box on the workbench. Everything went still as they turned to watch the door open and Bruce stumble in.

“Bruce?” Zer0 gasped.

“If it’s between his ear and a brick, chew on the brick, love. Brick’ll have a better chance of hearin’. Trust me,” Pepper said, entering behind Bruce.

“I’m not gonna let you have all the fun yourselves.”

Zer0 rolled her eyes.

She opened her mouth, stopped, rolled her eyes again and sighed, “Alrighty then.” She turned and locked eyes on the strip of bright red candy.

The scissors clipped and the purple heart-shaped box popped open, but nothing happened. Everyone shared a confused look. They all looked to Zer0 who shrugged her shoulders and peered into the box.

Inside, a tiny blob monster wearing a towel around its head, waded in an empty bathtub, singing to itself.

“Isn’t it ironic, don’t ya think.” It took a deep breath and wailed, “it’s like rain!”

“Hey!” Zer0 interrupted. The monster started and covered its chest section with its arms.

“Do you mind?”

Zer0 snatched up the compact and turned it upside down, shaking the monster from the housing. It shouted as it tumbled to the ground.

“Rude,” Sepsis grumbled—now fully seven feet tall—as he dusted himself off.

“Shut up,” Zer0 snapped, snipping the scissors at his face.

“You didn’t even ask me anything yet!” Sepsis moaned. “Are all humans like this or are you just mean?”

“Shut up!” Zer0 echoed. Sepsis crossed his arms. “Now. Who are you?”

“I’m called Sepsis.”

“What kinda name is that?” Pepper asked.

“At least I have one,” Sepsis responded.

“Culpepper’s the name, ya wad of suet.”

Sepsis laughed. “They gave an artifact a name? You guys are dumber than Lord Epoch said.”

“Who’s Lord Epoch?” Zer0 interrupted.

“Lord Epoch is Lord of the change. He works for The Cryptic, the Chief Millennial sprit.”

Zer0’s gaze lowered as she looked over the other people in the room. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“’Cause I wanna make a deal.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have much room to stand,” the Duchess drawled.

“I know you,” Sepsis said. “You’re her cousin. You’re the outcast.”

“Such an unsightly word,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “I prefer exiled. It has a more noble ring to it.”

“What kind of deal do you want?” Zer0 said, redirecting the conversation.

“The Cryptic wants war with other spirits. They want to take over the under-realm. Not me. I just want some filth and maybe to scare a few humans now and then. You let me live—give me a garbage dump or sewer to haunt or something—and I’ll tell you what I know about their plans.”

“How do we know we can trust your information?”

“He was there,” Sepsis said, whipping a dripping finger at Bruce. “I warned him that Trench was coming, didn’t I?”

Everyone turned to Bruce, who was snarling and holding his ribs.

“Yeah. He told me. Lot of fucking good it did though.”

“You would have been dead if it wasn’t for me, human. Trench would have torn you to pieces. I’ve seen him do it before.”

“Is that how it happened, young man?” the Regent asked.

“I was in my office working on a new weapon. That’s when he burst in. He told me he wanted to make a deal but I had to hide him. He told me the spirit Trench was coming and I had to get out and into the sunlight. I stuffed him into the Polly Pocket and ran for it, but Trench caught up. He threw me against the wall and through a door before I could make it out, but I made it.” He pursed his lips. “If I hadn’t had warning I would have been trapped in my office.”

“No windows in that place,” Sepsis added. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

Zer0 snipped the scissors at Sepsis’s face again. The monster shut its mouth so quickly it disappeared into its melting face.

“Fine,” Zer0 said. “What do they have planned?”

“No way, human. I can’t trust you. I’m not telling you anything else until I know you’ll hold your end of the deal.”

“You have my word. Now spill it.”

Sepsis laughed so hard he had to hold his bulbus, melting belly.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“I don’t care about you, medium. You’re just a seer. I want his word.” He swung a dripping finger at the Regent. “You’re the one in charge, right? You get to tell the other hunters what’s off limits.”

Everyone locked eyes with the Regent, who narrowed his gaze and stroked his beard.

“I can grant you clemency, but only in this region.”

The Regent stepped forward, locking eyes with Sepsis’s smoldering eye holes before he started pacing, his hands clasped behind his back, his head down.

“Very well,” he announced. “Very well. You’ll be granted sanctuary in the northeastern quadrant of the city dump. You will not be allowed the company of other spirits and any other spirits in the area will have no such clemency. If they’re found there, they’ll be hunted with prejudice. Further you will not be allowed out of that area. If you’re found outside it, your safety is forfeit. And all of this is dependent on the quality of your information,” the Regent added, making sharp eye contact. He marched toward Sepsis until they were nose to dripping nose. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Sepsis rasped, the stench of his breath visible in the dimming light.

“Okay,” Zer0 said, crossing her arms. “Now let’s talk.”

------------------------------------

Five days after the Battle of the Happy Warehouse; evening.

Aury lifted his knuckles to the back door of Madam Wong’s Happy Hot. He grimaced, lowered his hand to his side and swallowed hard. He raised his hand again. The door flew open.

“Oh come in, stupid boy! You waiting outside in cold like idiot for too long. Not even cats stay this long and I feed cats! Good for rats. And take off coat! Worse than cats…” The tiny Chinese woman trailed off into obscenities mumbled in Mandarin as she scurried into the back of the massive kitchen.

Aury rolled his eyes and followed.

Inside, shiny stainless steel prep tables created aisles among the wok burners that lined the walls. Dingy lighting flooded the area from stained ceiling tiles and the smell of burning peanut oil filled the air, tinting the walls in a thick, shiny coat of brown.

Madam Wong shouted again as she pulled up a stool, gesturing Aury to it. She climbed into her own stool—easily half as tall as she was. Tea and dumplings appeared on the prep table in front of them, the bearers disappearing as quickly as the refreshments showed up.

“Tell me what you need.”

Aury squirmed in his seat. Madam Wong aggressively cleared her throat.

“I need something.”

“Stupid boy,” Madam Wong spat, chewed dumpling scattering across the table along with her words. “This is what I say. I know you need something, otherwise you would send the grumpy one.” Aury pursed his lips. “I not say it bad. Madam Wong could use another Mister Wong.”

“You might have to fight the Duchess for that.”

“Please. Madam Wong quick. Now what you need?” she added, punctuating every word. Aury raised his eyes but not his chin. “No. No you don’t need that.” Aury pursed his lips and nodded. “No. You Don’t need that. Stupid boy,” she muttered. “How?”

“I just need it.”

“I don’t care for you, stupid boy. I want to know how you gonna get it from me. Shit ain’t free.”

“It’s important.”

“So is my ass.”

“What do you want?”

Madam Wong’s eyes narrowed before her face bloomed to a smile so sinister it made Aury shiver. She folded her arms. “I want a replacement.”

“You know that’s impossible.”

“I not say what is possible. You ask what I want. I want a replacement.”

Aury raised his arms in frustration, setting them on the edge of the table. “I can’t just find you another Black Lotus card. If I could do that I wouldn’t be here.”

“Stupid boy,” Madam Wong spat. “I not want another Black Lotus. I want Karkov’s Pika.”

Aury blinked several time as his mouth searched for words. He brushed his fingers through his hair, grabbing a handful and tugging before he settled back into his stool.

“I’ll talk to Karkov.”

“There’s a good boy!” Madam Wong rang, bouncing from her stool. “You bring me Karkov’s Pika, I give you my Black Lotus, and you go save world.” She raised an arm toward the back door, shouted at one of her chefs, and left Aury standing in the hum of the exhaust vents and the rush of wok fire.

A couple hours later, Aury sat in his car gnawing on the wood tip of his cigar, staring at Zaya, a smoky-looking sandwich truck renowned around the city—for better or worse.

Alexander Mikhail Karkov, raised his eyes from his griddle, locking his gaze on Aury. He gave a squinty-eyed head nod that, despite being too far to hear, Aury was certain it was coupled with a grizzled grunt.

Aury sighed, checked his blind spot for traffic, and got out. He ground his cigar into the pavement and marched across the busy street.

“I see you coming,” Karkov said in a gravelly voice that smelled of pickles and chewing tobacco. “Come. I have for you sandwich, extra meat; pork. Better than der’movvy tofu you get from small, angry woman,” He made a face like, if he could have spat, he would have. “Come, come!” he waved, beckoning Aury with a margin trowel he hand-sharpened to an edge.

“Is mine almost done?” a man asked.

Karkov’s trowel and flat scraper—construction tools, not cooking tools—stopped dead. He slowly raised his deadpan glare and stared ice at the man. The man swallowed and looked downward. Karkov went back to cooking.

“Thanks,” Aury said, grasping a brown, wax papered parcel from the counter.

He unwrapped it, watching the steam slither upward, making the other man’s mouth water. He bit. Soft, chewy, crunchy where it was toasted. The meat was salty and juicy and pared with the cheese just right. That grizzled old bastard was a dick, but he made a mean sandwich.

Karkov’s arms flared as brown paper appeared and tore. He plopped the parcel on the counter in front of the other patron.

“Eleven fifty,” he burped.

The man set fifteen dollars on the counter, picked up his sandwich, and left.

“Tell me, young man. Do you come just for free sandwich or do you need something from Karkov?”

“I need something.”

“How is grumpy man?”

“He’s fine; little beaten up.”

Karkov burst into a boisterous, booming laugh that rocked the entire food truck. He walked to the exit and claimed down the stairs to the street still chuckling.

“His mouth is only good for filling and for trouble. I like this one! And the girl?”

“She’s good too.”

“She’s strong one. Tell me, young man. Why you two never. You know…” Karkov’s bushy eyebrows bounced up and down in such quick succession it sounded like he was washing pots and pans.

“We gotta talk,” Aury deflected.

“Yes yes! Everyone need something from Karkov. Tell me, young man. What is it? Somebody need to be—oh you know—a little quieter?”

“I need your Pikachu.”

Karkov burst into an even larger round of laughter that rocked the truck despite him standing outside it. It subsided as he wiped a tear from his eye. But it went silent when he met eyes with Aury.

“You serious, boy?”

“I’m serious. I need it.”

“This is not something I can just give. You know this.”

“I know.”

“I would not even sell it. You know this.”

“I know.”

Karkov crossed his massive, hairy arms, perching them on his belly. He leaned back on his heels, inspecting Aury’s face with pursed lips.

“Why you need this?”

Aury pursed his lips and met eyes with Karkov

“I knew it!” Karkov boomed, slapping the back of his hand into the opposite palm. “Is small, angry woman, isn’t it? She been wanting Karkov’s Pikachu Illustrator for years. And you know how important it is. Is only thing I had in Russia. Karkov grew up with nothing. But one day mother found pack of cards and bring to young Karkov.”

“I know the story.”

“Karkov open package with teeth and tears fill eyes as I stare at little yellow monster,” Karkov continued, ignoring Aury’s remark while playing out the scene there on the street. “I keep this little yellow monster for twenty years! All the way across the ocean. And now you want me to give it to you.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Karkov’s nose wrinkled as he though.

“I need something too, young man. Something I think maybe you can help with, yes?”

“Me?”

“My mother. She doesn’t sleep anymore.”

Aury did his best to control his face as the vision of an ancient Russian woman capable of bringing Karkov into the world flashed in his mind.

“Is not good,” Karkov said, glancing over his shoulder. He leaned in. “Is drekavac,” he breathed.

Aury furrowed his brow.

“You know drekavac, yes? Is soul of child dead and not baptized. Is night monster. Whispers and cold, young man. Like smoke from long dead fire.”

“What about it?”

“My mother. She doesn’t sleep. She is good woman. She deserves rest. You help mother to rest,” he said jabbing Aury in the chest with a sausage finger so hard he stumbled back a step, “and Karkov’s Pika is yours. Is deal?” he added, extending a massive hand. It looked like someone filled an XXL rubber dish glove with beef tallow and let it harden in the cold.

Aury extended his hand and Karkov took it, wrapping Aury’s entire hand in his fist, jerking, and whacking him on the shoulder, chuckling.

“You come tonight, I think. Yes? Is no moon tonight. Is better for you that way?”

“Why’s that?”

“Is important drekavac shadow not touch you.” He slid a foot forward to where Aury could smell the pickles and tobacco. “Is very important.”

------------------------------------

Five days after the Battle of the Happy Warehouse; evening.

The door to the Regent’s private quarters shut behind him. He walked, back straight, shoulders back, to the center of the room and turned, his cape swirling about him as it brushed against the shiny floor. He investigated his reflection by the candlelight next to the oaken-framed, full-length mirror. He turned his head, touching his beard. He walked closer turning his head to the other side, tracing the creases at the corner of his eyes and the streaks of white on his temples with the pads of his fingers.

He untied the bow knot at his clavicle. His cape dropped to the ground. He took a deep breath, distending his belly and sighed, watching his shoulders round and his head droop. His lips pursed as his eyes swept the floor.

He closed on his reflection until he could see every wrinkle. He snarled, licked his fingers, and extinguished the candle.