Samuel and Hiro stood across from one another, both poised to strike until the Australian laughed. His shoulders relaxed. “It really isn’t worth it, yeah?”
Hiro didn’t reply.
“Look, mate, we may not even make it to the Third Interim.” Samuel laughed again. “So my suggestion, if you’re willing to hear me out, is that we wait until then to do anything rash.”
Hiro let out a deep breath and relaxed. Yet he still kept his hand on the hilt of his blade. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Samuel said as he approached the exit, his back to Hiro. “We’ve all been fucked in the head since the Doom System showed up, yeah? We’re all edgy. So there’s that. Your first One Hit Wonder?” he asked, referring to the skill they had both received that allowed them to send an assassin out to kill an enemy.
“My second.”
“That’s the thing with these One Hit Wonder skills. You sort of want to use them, yeah? But then you also think you should hold them until shit has really hit the fan.” Samuel swept the red curtain aside and stepped out into the streets. “Ah, Christ.”
What the hell? Hiro thought upon joining the man.
The sky over the city was different—still a brooding gray with hints of a crimson cast from the eclipse, yet now it was filled with eerie red rowboats suspended in the air. There had to be hundreds of them.
Hiro got out his phone and his eyes bulged beneath his mask:
01:10:15:29
01:10:15:28
01:10:15:27
“Seven hours.”
“What now?” Samuel asked as he continued to examine the rowboats.
“Seven hours passed in there.”
Samuel checked his phone to confirm. “The Doom System didn’t tell us that little tidbit. We’re marked, and we lost seven hours.”
“What’s with the boats?” Hiro asked his Companion.
He showed the response to Samuel.
“Bloody great. We have monsters, Hunters, Sentries, Revenants, and now, or should I say, and soon, Spectators. Christ. That’s the tragic beauty in all this. All I really have to do is survive. But to survive later, I need to get stronger now.”
“It’s like saving for retirement.”
Samuel snorted at this suggestion. “Yeah, I guess it’s like that. Only, instead of battling life, disease, and old age, we have to face off against a bloody maniac with chainsaw hands only to step out of the madness and be told that more maniacs will be gunning for us in ten hours. It does make me think, though. Maybe there’s a smarter way to do this.”
“Power through?”
Samuel nodded. “Power through until about, I don’t know, twenty-four hours until the gates open, then rest. Wake up, see what the Spectators are all about, lay low if need-be, and head to the gate to go in fully charged. I don’t know about you, mate, but I’m tired now.”
“Same,” Hiro said.
“It’s like the Doom System wants us to sleep or something. Did you get that sense the last time you went out?”
Hiro thought back to his stay in Billionaire’s Row, where he had grown tired after the random surge of rage he felt due to {Lupine Shift}. “I did, now that you mention it. It was like the Doom System slipped me a sleeping pill.”
Samuel adjusted his bucket hat. “It makes me think we need to visit this merchant I met just before I headed here. She had energy drinks.”
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“Like… energy drinks from before?”
“You mean the crazy ones you Americans drink that is full of shit banned in other countries? Yeah, ha, they looked like them, but not exactly that. These ones seemed more homemade. The merchant had a variety, though. I think she said she had one that can help you sleep as well. Weren’t cheap either. But we just got our follower count doubled. I should be sitting at close to ten thousand.”
“Close to eight for me.”
“Plenty,” Samuel said. “Well, what do you think? You want to head there? Just a few blocks away, really, closer to Hell’s Kitchen. You got some sort of flying ability, yeah?”
“Something like that.”
“I can move in quick bursts with this cloak. So it shouldn’t be too hard for us to get there.”
“I needed more gauze anyway.”
“Love definitely had some of that.”
“Love?”
“That’s her name, or that’s what she told me, the merchant. We could go there and then part ways. If you’re like me, you want the potential bonus for killing these fuckers on your own.”
“There is one group that I’ve tried to tackle twice in Bryant Park,” Hiro said once they were on the move. They reached their first rooftop, the city streets a disaster below. “Just a head’s up.”
“Yeah? What about them?”
Hiro scanned the streets below as he spoke: “Triplet Bunnies. They are high-level Hunters that wear leather rabbit masks the ears of which morph into tentacle swords. They’re fast. I tried tackling them with another Survivor and we failed. Or, at least we mostly failed. I think we injured one of them. They’re in Bryant Park. I’d avoid them if you’re out hunting solo.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. You weren’t planning on giving them another go, were you?” Samuel flashed to another rooftop and Hiro joined him.
“I absolutely want to deal with them before the gate opens.”
“In that case, we might need to set a time to meet there and handle the bunnies.” Samuel shook his head. “Weird saying it like that.”
Soon, Hiro saw the golden beam that indicated there was a merchant in the vicinity.
He followed Samuel through a shattered window, and into a cluttered room to find a woman in flowing robes stitched with peacock feathers seated on a purple sofa. She wore a beaded hat that would have looked appropriate on a flapper.
“Hello, Survivors,” she said in between puffs from a black cigarette holder. She coughed. “Welcome to Hell’s Kitchen.”
The weird grin on Samuel’s face reflected the light coming through the only window that wasn’t shattered. “Hi, Love. We’re here to stock up. This is Hiro. Hiro, Love; Love, Hiro.”
“Nice to meet you.” The woman extended a frail hand to Hiro. Each of the nails at the end of her bony fingers was painted to resemble a peacock’s tail feathers.
After they shook hands, she ashed her cigarette on the ground, stood, and motioned for them to follow her into the kitchen, which was lit by a faint glow. “Hurry.”
No health bar; she’s not an enemy. Could this be a trap? Hiro wondered. Samuel didn’t seem to think so, the Australian man gladly following her into a galley kitchen, where supplies were laid out.
“Do you have vape cartridges?” Hiro asked. “I could use a Bleed or Corruption cartridge.”
“Bleed, I got. Don’t have the other one. I only have Bleed and Anti-Fear,” she said as she finished her cigarette, the woman sucking on the end of the holder a good thirty seconds as the cancer stick turned to ash.
“Which is?”
“Have you been hit by Fear yet?”
“I have not.”
“Let me see your vape pen.”
Hiro hesitated.
“It’s fine,” Samuel told him. “I trust her. Sort of.”
Love grinned at Hiro, revealing a set of tobacco yellow teeth at odds with the gaudy makeup she wore. “I want to see its grade.”
Hiro got the vape pen out. Rather than hand it to her, he set it on the counter. The merchant leaned over to examine it. “Kiri Yōso Vape Pen, Grade C. You won’t be able to use something like Anti-Fear until it is Grade B, which will allow you to use different buff cartridges.”
“Like healing?”
“Healing, other enhancements. If you can’t already tell, I specialize in buffs. Some merchants are just merchants. Others have specializations and can upgrade your items.”
“Others take cash,” Hiro said, recalling Penny, the strange merchant he’d met that was wearing the prom sash.
“Correct. If you want Anti-Fear, or any other buff cartridge, you need to upgrade your vape pen. Do that and return.”
“Do you know where I could do that?” Hiro asked as he put his vape pen away. He went ahead and set a {Beacon} so he could find her later.
“Closer to Central Park. Subway Station near Columbus Circle.”
“There used to be some restaurants down there.”
“Still are,” she said.
“So I do that, and I return to you.”
“Correct. Moving on. What else do you need?”
“I came for the energy drinks,” Samuel told Love. “He’s interested as well, and needs a roll of gauze.”
“Healing gauze, I got. And band aids that can heal puncture wounds. You guys might like those.”
“I’ll take them both,” Hiro said.
Love got out a thick roll of gauze and a tin package of band aids. The merchant turned to the refrigerator, opened it, and began placing off brand energy drinks on the counter top. They resembled normal energy drinks, yet something seemed off about them, like they were homemade in some way.
Munster? Pink Bull? Smellcius? Poxstar? Haterade? Smoke Zero? Hiro looked at Samuel incredulously.
“I know, right? I pounded one of the Pink Bulls before our little sample sale.” Samuel snorted at the way that sounded. “Gave me a hella boost to Stamina. Plus one full point for the duration of a fight. That’s how I was moving around so quickly. I didn’t even check the other drinks, but they’re bound to be rippers. So what do ya reckon, Hiro? Are we getting smashed on post-apocalyptic energy drinks, or what?”