Joe’s eyes snapped open as the roar of an engine broke his despair. The sound grew louder, vibrating through the cracked, lifeless earth. He blinked, confused, then looked up to see Betty, now somehow facing him.

Thick plumes of smoke billowed aggressively from her exhaust, the likes of which he’d never seen before. Her headlights glared at him like accusing eyes.

Instinctively, Joe's hand shot to his pocket, fingers brushing his car keys. How the hell is her engine running?

The unease in his chest swelled as he approached cautiously, his eyes scanning the surroundings for anyone who might be hiding—someone who could have hijacked his car, or worse.

But the wasteland remained as empty and desolate as it had been just moments ago. He took a few more careful steps toward her, but suddenly Betty's engine let out a violent roar, so loud and sharp that it made him jump back.

He expected the car to charge forward and run him down.

Joe raised his hands, palms out, like he was trying to calm a wild animal—just like in those Jurassic Park movies. Slowly, he crept closer again, until his fingers hovered over the hood. He hesitated, knowing it was a bad idea but doing it anyway.

As soon as his fingers touched the metal, pain shot through his hand, and he yanked it away, cursing under his breath. The heat was so intense it had managed to burn straight through his already formed blisters.

"Idiot," he muttered to himself, shaking off the pain. What was going on?

He circled the car, peering inside the windows. No one. The car was as empty as it had been when he left it. Yet here it was, engine running, purring with a low menace.

Finally, he reached the driver’s side door, the one he had opened and closed a thousand times before. His fingers brushed the handle—just as a voice boomed from the car’s speakers.

“I wouldn’t do that, Joe.”

He froze. The voice was familiar—gruff and commanding. His brain scrambled to identify it, and then it hit him. Betty White?

“What the…” Joe’s hand jerked back, and he stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the dashboard like he expected some bastard “influencer” to pop out and reveal a hidden camera.

“Betty?” he whispered.

“That’s right, kid,” the voice crackled again, softer this time, almost as if the engine itself was smirking. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Joe’s mind sputtered like a rusty motor. Betty—his car—was talking. Not just any car. His Betty.

He dragged his hand through his hair, grimacing again at his complete lack of awareness of his newly acquired burns. “How is this possible? You can talk? You actually understand me?”

“Of course I understand you, you idiot. Do. You. Understand. Me?” she replied, each word dripping with condescension.

This was beyond weird. “My car—a cougar of a car—can talk now?”

“Watch it, kid," Betty growled, her engine rumbling. "An animal lover I am, but a cougar? Hardly” She revved her engine again, like an offended lion roaring in protest.

Joe couldn't help but smirk, the absurdity of the situation momentarily cutting through the tension. “How can you even love animals? You just became… I don’t know… sentient?”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Just because I can talk now doesn’t mean I wasn’t here the whole time,” Betty snapped. “I’ve been aware, okay? I felt everything—every time you shifted me into the wrong gear, every time you drove me like a moron. And let me tell you, there were plenty of those times.”

Joe cringed. So now my car has a grudge too. Great. He stood there, still trying to process what was happening.

His focus drifted behind him, to where tiny remnants of the rift still lingered. Was this somehow connected to what that mysterious figure had said? Had the powers-that-be given Betty her voice?

As bizarre as it was, there was a strange comfort in hearing her talk. Maybe it was because, for the first time since this nightmare began, Joe didn’t feel alone. Sure, his only companion was a passive-aggressive, newly sentient machine, but at least he had someone—or something—in this desolate wasteland.

Robot Terrence certainly didn’t bring him much comfort during their brief interaction.

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. “Betty, do you know anything about what’s happening? Why we’re here? What we’re supposed to do next?”

The steering wheel twitched, and the headlights focused on him like eyes. “Nope!” she yelped, her voice now tinged with a wild, borderline hysterical edge. “I have no idea! Zip! Zilch! Nada!” She let out a high-pitched cackle.

Joe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. So not only is my car sentient, cranky, and holding a grudge… she’s also completely unhinged. I am so screwed.

He tried again. “Do you have, I don’t know, an inventory? A map? Anything useful?”

Betty’s response came fast. “Nope, nothing. But hey, I can see you’re Level 2 now! We’re at the same level. Isn’t that cute?”

Joe groaned. “Yeah… don’t remind me.”

New Quest: Find the Sullen Abyss.

Joe let out an almost excited “ooh!” as he opened his main menu and accessed his quests.

Ongoing Quest: Find the Sullen Abyss

Description: Locate the Sullen Abyss. Be careful of the waves and cover your nose. Mind the statues.

Just as Joe was inspecting his new quest, another one cropped up.

New Quest: Defeat the Harbinger.

Description: Defeat the Harbringer. Don’t get seduced.

“Well, that looks ominous,” he said, closing the menu again. The quests weren’t nearly as helpful as he had hoped, but Joe noticed a yellow star on the map far in the direction of the gothic Hogwarts he had noticed earlier.

He looked off into the distance but couldn’t see any physical sign of it; it only appeared on his map, at least giving him a direction.

“Can you see that, Betty?” Joe asked, knowing the answer.

“See what?” she replied.

Joe sighed. Maybe only humans or actual people could see their menu. It made sense; she was literally a car. Although she was the same level as him, so that was… something.

“I guess we should move toward the star. The guy in the rift said I should level up fast, but God knows how I can do that with just a stick.” As Joe finished his sentence, he looked at Betty and remembered the demon from earlier.

Crap, how much XP did he get when he hit that thing while in her? 300? 500? Whatever it was, it was probably more than he could get with just himself and a stick.

“Betty, I need to get into the driver’s side.”

“The hell you will,” she replied.

Joe lowered his hands, trying to figure out how to reason with his own car. “Betty, listen. I know this is weird, but you’ve gotta let me drive you. You know I’ll be careful.”

Betty’s headlights narrowed. “Careful? You’ve got a funny definition of ‘careful.’ I remember every pothole you hit. Every late oil change. And that time you stalled on a hill in the rain? Humiliating.”

Joe sighed. “I know, I know. But hey, I’ve taken good care of you too. Rebuilt part of your engine, polished the rims, replaced that dashboard light when it bugged you. You’re more than just…well, you’re more than a car to me.

You were the first thing I thought of after that explosion earlier.” He glanced away, feeling almost embarrassed at his own honesty. “When I thought you might’ve been... gone, I—”

Betty cut him off. “Alright, alright, don’t get all emotional, jeez. You’re gonna get tears on the upholstery. Fine, I’ll let you drive—but there’s a condition. One wrong move, and I’m taking over. Got it?”

Joe stared at her, trying to figure out what that even meant. Could she really just take over? Would he be wrestling his own steering wheel in the middle of the wasteland? A rogue car with a grudge was the last thing he needed. “Deal,” he said, swallowing these questions.

With a hesitant breath, he reached for the door, slipping into the driver’s seat. The familiar creak welcomed him, and the faint scent of engine oil mixed with air freshener made him feel right at home. He pulled his keys from his pocket and moved to put one into the ignition.

“Put that away, genius,” Betty said dryly. “The engine’s already running. Or have you not noticed?”

Joe stopped, then shoved the key back into his pocket, muttering, “Right.” He gripped the wheel and felt her power thrumming beneath his hands, a sensation far more alive than it had ever felt before.

Betty’s engine revved impatiently, and she lurched forward, making Joe grip the wheel tighter. “Alright, we’re heading toward that star thing, right? Let’s go.”

Without another word, Joe put his foot down and she came to life, her tires spinning against the ground.

The wheels kicked up thick, greasy chunks of dead crab carcass from Joe’s earlier battle, spraying them behind in a wake of grit and bone. Betty tore forward with a wild eagerness.

For a moment, as they sped off into the unknown, Joe felt that familiar rush he felt earlier. They were together, and, however strange the road ahead looked, he was back behind the wheel of his Betty.