Clay didn't do much sleeping once he got to the college building. It was hard to relax in an unfamiliar location, so he didn't even try. He spent most of the time reading by flashlight in a classroom with a view of the hallway that would let him see Radman enter his office.

"Do you know how to read?" Clay asked Kissy after seeing her toy around with a crumpled paper ball on the floor.

Squeak!

"You want to read this with me, then?" He held up the book for her to look at.

…Squeak!

"Alright, just squeak when you've finished reading and I'll turn the page."

He said this with the impression that, being a rat, Kissy would be a slow reader. That turned out to be untrue, put politely.

Squeak! Kissy chirped from where she sat on his knee.

"You're kidding! I'm only halfway through the first page!"

Rapid fire squeak-laughing was her only response to his distress.

The book was called The Lost Balloon. It was about a boy who wants to be a wizard with an older brother who already goes to a magic school.

The description on the back made Clay think it was going to be a comedy about a young boy who lost a balloon that he filled up with his brother's magic dust and must retrieve it, extract the dust, and make it back before his brother is expelled from school for misusing his magic tools.

It was kind of like that, but a lot of the book was actually from the balloon's point of view as it went from situation to situation. The prose sometimes described its movements and circumstances like it was alive but also made sure to always remind the reader that it wasn't. Through luck and the small bits of magic infused into it, the balloon prevents a kidnapping, destroys an underground gambling racket, marries a dragon, and saves the life of the nation's wizard president.

In the end, the balloon was not retrieved, but a chain reaction ends up making the problem with the dust moot. The story of the brothers ended happily, but it becomes melancholy when it describes how the balloon just continued floating on alone.

'The red balloon floated when all else went to the ground. It floats alone. Always seen, but never found.'

It had the vibes of a book for older children, but the way it spoke and the complicated words it used at some points got him thinking it might be some kind of meditation or satire.

"I don't think I'm smart enough to understand this book," Clay dourly admitted.

Squeak squeak squeak squeak!

"I've been nothing but nice to you."

At some point, all of the tension of his walk here and his lack of proper sleep from worrying over the asshole patrol caught up with him. There was also the thought that the night had gone on enough that he might as well just stay up and sleep later.

So of course his body decided then was the time to make his eyelids heavy.

When he woke up, it was because of a familiarly painful stinging sensation in his hand. Any trace of sleepiness instantly evaporated under Kissy's wrath.

Sunlight was starting to creep in through the windows, and, true to his word, Clay saw Radman opening the door to his office from where he was sitting.

Clay scrambled up to start approaching him, which caused him to rustle his sleeping bag and draw Radman's attention.

"Wahh!" He immediately reached into his coat and whipped out a hunting knife to point towards him. From this angle and with only the beginnings of light starting to come in, Clay must have been hard to recognize.

Even with the knife, which Clay was smart enough to still be wary of, Radman didn't look very intimidating.

"Radman! It's me! Keep it cool, alright?" Clay announced himself as he stepped closer with his hands up and his fingers splayed.

However, Radman waved the knife in his direction to keep him from getting too close. "What the fuck are you doing here!? I told you you could meet me, but that's not an invitation to just ambush me like this! Did you camp out here overnight!?"

Clay didn't want to escalate things any further, so he did his best not to let his confused annoyance show on his face. "We’re in the middle of a situation. Don't you watch me? I thought you might have already known about it."

"You think my life revolves around you, Sadman? I said what I needed to say last week and left whether or not we saw each other again in your hands." Radman wasn't waving his knife around now, but he still had it pointed at him.

"Then I can explain things to you. Let's just talk like last time, okay?" Clay did his best to smile reassuringly.

He eyed Clay closely, then slowly slid his knife into a sheathe attatched to the inside of his coat. "…Alright. I'm going into my office now—follow me in two minutes."

Clay had no reason to say no.

---

Once they were in his office and Clay had a chance to outline the situation with the asshole patrol, Radman became a lot more understanding. That might also have something to do with the fact that he conveniently left out the tidbit about how they planned on turning him down.

"I see. That definitely does create complications for us…" He drummed his fingers against his desk in thought.

Actually, his entire attitude shifted after being allowed to step into his office. He dealt with Clay a lot more casually, and that erratic twitchiness he exhibited in the hallway was completely gone. That could only mean one thing.

Radman had defenses in this room besides the bookcase. These defenses might even be lethal, if the fact that he hadn't been worried about him and Alan being in the same room with guns while they were having an intense argument was any indication.

"Here's what I don't get." Radman motioned toward Clay with his hand after he got tired of drumming. "You're a player; why don't you just overpower them with your abilities?"

It was finally time to shatter some dreams.

"I didn't want to say this before, but you're under a pretty big misconception about how strong I am. I've only been at this for a month, and this other guy has been going strong for at least two years. It's obvious that there's going to be a disparity between us."

"Hmmm…" Radman stared at Clay, as if only taking the time to truly examine him right this moment. "You are a little underwhelming. You definitely don't have that overpowering aura of charisma that he did, but I thought it was possible you made up for it in smarts and strength."

Best I can do is neither.

He sighed and rested an elbow on the desk. "Okay, so maybe you're not strong enough to go toe-to-toe with my leader yet. That's no problem. It's fortunate that he's too lazy to deal with these 'lesser' problems on his own, so we only have to deal with these Neanderthals. How strong are you, exactly? How many do you think you can take?"

"Uh…maybe one, given I have a gun and he doesn’t," Clay said with a straight face.

"Alright, that's…Okay, a lot of my plans are going to have to be thrown out now. How strong are you compared to an average person?"

"I'm pretty much the average person. If it's raw strength, then you're better off talking to Alan."

"What about your powers? Don't you have a few special abilities?"

"I don't really think it's in my best interest to outline all of my Skills, but I can tell you that I don't have anything that'll help me get one over on anyone unless the conditions are right."

"Hey, no offense, but aren't you kind of useless?"

The guy I'm being compared to has had two years to grind!

Clay's response was collected, "Yeah, I'm not really all that useful. Besides some of my abilities, I'm mostly just an extra set of hands. I probably won't ever be able to catch up to this other player, so you're already doomed to fail if I'm your last hope. My recommendation to you would be to get out of the city before they track you down. That way you can lose them for a little while and also get them to follow you, leaving us alone."

Radman gave him a mirthless smile. "Sounds like I'm the only one getting the raw end of the deal here. You guys get to go on living the way you want and I have to abandon my work yet again."

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

"It was you who chose to abandon Alan and follow this guy in the first place." Clay leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the desk. "We also didn't agree to help you, so it's not fair to force us to fight your battles."

"They came after you guys on their own. I can't control that." Radman didn't bother smiling now. "And 'abandoning'? You don't know what you're talking about. You weren't even there."

"Exactly, which is why it's especially unfair to drag me in as well. I have nothing to do with whatever is going on between you, Alan, and this other player. Even if you believe Alan is somehow at fault, I didn't do anything wrong. Neither did Angie or Milly or anyone else in that building."

Why was he being so confrontational? Hadn't he come here to get Radman's help? He couldn't stop himself now.

"If we're talking about getting the raw deal, then it's us who are suffering just for talking to you. You brought them here, and now we have to deal with them on our own? Explain to me how that's fair."

Now Clay understood; he was lashing out. He wasn't immune to the same sort of logic-defying emotionality that drove the asshole patrol to torment him, and he doubted that he'd be going this far if Radman hadn't said he was useless. It also helped that Radman was much smaller than him.

If I'm useless, then what the hell are you?

Radman made a series of faces during Clay's rant. Irritation. Indignation. He looked angry enough to throw it back in Clay's face somehow but glanced down at the desk between them to think instead.

After a pause, Radman nodded in resignation. "You're right. Not 100% right, but right enough that I can concede that you have a point. I put you all in danger because the two months I spent giving them the runaround built up my confidence enough to reach out to someone. I didn't expect doing that would cause so much trouble for you. I'm sorry. Genuinely."

Clay's irritation cooled after the apology. Now he felt a little uneasy after going off on him like that, even if he hadn't raised his voice. "It's fine…Well, it's not fine, but I know you didn't mean to cause any harm. If you're serious about not leaving, then I'd want to ask you to at least do a few things for me."

"Hm!" After the moment of seriousness passed, Radman went back to leaning in his chair and doing his best to put on an aura of intelligence. "I sense you have a plan. Are you going to ask me to make something that can wipe these idiots out?"

Clay nodded, removing his arm from the rifle's sling and placing his gun on the desk. "Something like that, but I’m not big into the idea of killing these guys unless I have to. There's a chance they'll leave us alone soon, after all.”

“Either way, I don’t have the supplies to make anything properly helpful. I used up enough bits and bobs to secure this office, and my ability to make anything else is limited until I can scavenge more parts. You’d have to be very realistic with what you want, even more so if you’re determined not to kill anyone.”

“In that case, I wouldn't even know what to ask for. I was more hoping you could give me information on the members of the asshole patrol and take care of a few miscellaneous things for me."

"Miscellaneous things, eh?" Radman smirked.

"Precautionary measures. Just in case. Some lethal, some not."

"Mhmm…Alright then. As long as it doesn't put me in the line of fire and it's not too much of a pain, I'll take care of it for you. Before that, tell me who it is that you've been forced to deal with."

Clay proceeded to tell Radman about Ed and describe the appearances of the other men as best he could. Sometimes the descriptions were too vague and Radman had to ask follow-up questions that Clay couldn't always answer.

"Brown hair and a beard? How long was the beard?"

"Maybe I know that guy. Did he have blue eyes?"

"Hmmm, that's a tough one. Did he stutter at all?"

It was rough going, especially since Radman had apparently never been particularly close with anyone in his old group. For most of the men, it was open-ended things like 'if it IS him, then he's a bit like this'. Potentially useless and not even that helpful if it did turn out to be the person he was thinking of.

In the end, only two people could be confirmed. Ed and Goatee-Eyeglasses.

From what Radman heard, Ed used to be a schoolteacher. He's somewhat close with the other player.

As for Goatee-Eyeglasses…

"That's definitely Ronny. Total idiot. The thing that annoys me the most is that his vision is perfectly fine; he wears those glasses because he thinks it makes him look cool." Radman tilted his head as he looked up at Clay from his seat. "Man, I feel bad for you. Ronny's got problems."

As Radman tells it, Ronny had a penchant for singling out particular survivors that weren't under their group's protection and messing with them. A lot of the time it was antics that Clay was familiar with, but every now and again…

"I wasn't there, but I'm pretty sure I remember hearing about Ronny beating a guy to death. Still, as long as you keep taking the passive approach and don't try to fight back, you should be fine where he's concerned."

That's not exactly what Clay wanted to hear, but it was at least useful.

After that, it was mostly just a talk of logistics and things Clay wanted done or looked into.

"Yeah, sometimes I'm in that area," Radman said in response to something Clay asked for. "Didn't even have to go that far out of my way when I went to retrieve your stuff after you got chased off by that Hammer."

It was called a Hammer? Yet another case where Clay believed the name he came up with in his head (Smasher) was far superior.

Radman let out a breath through the side of his mouth. "It's probably a good thing that this isn't your plan A. I'd never suggest anything so risky."

"It's risky, but there's a few things I noticed that could come in handy…"

The differences in this world were small, but they added up to a theory in Clay's head that could be taken advantage of in a worst-case scenario.

And only in a worst-case scenario.

In the midst of their conversation, things shifted away from the task at hand and towards the mundane.

By this point, Clay went from standing in front of the desk to sitting in a chair he had to yank out of a pile of the office's original furniture. "I like role-playing games and sandbox stuff, but I'm not averse to other kinds of games."

Radman was leaned as far back in his chair as was possible, with his feet up on the desk. "Cool! Do you like RTS games at all?"

"…Alright, I am averse to some kinds of games. RTS is definitely one of them."

"Ugh, you're one of those shooter-brains, aren't you? Can't handle a little bit of actual strategy in your games, 'V-Man'?"

Clay frowned. "There's plenty of strategy in games besides RTS ones. I can also definitely say I'm not shooter-brained. The last time I played something like Call of Duty was…gotta be close to eight years ago."

"Call of Duty?" Radman asked in an easygoing tone. "That's a game from your world, right?"

"Y-" Clay stopped before even properly starting his response. He stared intensely at Radman.

"Hmm, so you were keeping it a secret. It's a good thing I didn't bring up anything in front of Alan, eh?"

What was going on? How could he know that? Was the existence of another world something else he learned indirectly from his leader?

He made it sound like the things he learned from his time with this other group were limited, but there wasn't any way to confirm that. He knew that Radman was playing things safe, so why had Clay lowered his guard?

No, the better question is why did Radman bait him like that? If he knew for sure that Clay was from another world, it would be another thing he kept to himself, right?

Clay blinked. Radman hadn't been sure. He was using this as an opportunity to probe him for information.

"Another world? I guess if you think of Europe as another world, that might make some amount of--" Clay tried, attempting to play it cool despite his nervousness.

"Save it, alright? I don't care if you're from another world; I just wanted to know for sure." Radman tilted his head up, a touch of smugness entering his tone. "You were starting to tell a really funny lie, though. I wonder if you had that prepared or if you're just that good at improvising off the top of your head. If I didn't know what I know, that could have tricked me. Without any internet to be sure, how could I look up if there is a game like that in Europe?"

Clay stayed silent.

"Don't misunderstand, Sadman, I wasn’t trying to trick you just now. I just took advantage of an opening, that's all. I'm intrigued by what else your world has that mine doesn't. Do you mind answering some questions for me?"

No, wait. Maybe this isn't a bad thing.

Clay's stoic expression slowly gave way to a composed smile.

"Not at all. As long as you don't mind answering some of my questions in return."

They spent the whole day talking about things both important and unimportant. Radman was also nice enough to feed him before the sun set over the horizon, which signaled that it was time for Clay to return home.

"Goodbye, Sadman." Radman waved him off. "Goodbye, Kissy."

Kissy hissed at him.

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

When he returned to Alan's building, Alan and Milly were both waiting for him. There was a small chat about what he and Radman spoke about, as well as some words about Alan's rifle, but the bulk of it ultimately had to wait until after Clay could rest. He didn't even remember his head hitting the pillow before he turned into a rock.

After they were caught up to speed in the morning, Alan insisted they go out and scavenge for supplies.

"Whatever the case, we need to hurry our asses. We've lost too many days because of these guys and I'm pretty sure I saw it snowin' a little last night. We ain't takin' another day off for a long while, y'hear?

Clay heard him loud and clear, even though he was pretty sure there hadn't been any snow.

The days of collecting supplies and occasionally being hassled continued on. After the third day, it definitely began snowing. On the fifth day, Alan decided enough was enough.

"We can't put it off no more. We gotta get our hands on some diesel, even if we gotta do it without guns."

Clay finished untying a small pink ribbon from Kissy's head. "Do we want to try that gas station again? Radman told me that Hammers usually like to hang around the same spot until they get too big for it."

The more a Hammer is allowed to eat, the larger its body becomes and the more room-meat it has to cover itself in.

"Are 'ya really gonna keep callin’ that guy 'Radman'? We know his name's Dick now. And wouldn't you know it, I'm pretty happy to just call him that."

"He keeps calling me Sadman, so I'm going to keep calling him Radman." Clay turned to grin lightly at Alan. "Kind of makes it feel like we're in Top Gun."

"I dunno what the hell Top Gun is, but I do know that if this Hammer fella' is gonna be hanging around Kevin's Heaven, then I ain't goin' anywhere near it. With or without guns."

In the absence of guns, Alan hadn't given Clay as much side-eye when he crafted a spear from a knife, a beheaded broom, and a lot of duct tape. Written down its length in Sharpie was the name Clay had given it: Facestabber.

He'd considered naming it Facefucker to give it that hard, post-apocalyptic edge. Unfortunately, there was a child in the house who was learning to read.

Facestabber was laying across Clay's lap as he talked things over with Alan. "Do you know of another place we can get it, then?"

"It's gonna be a little out of our way, but I do have a place in mind. Bad thing is that it's gonna take us back near the business district."

The peek Clay got into what it was like in that part of the city made it hard to sleep at night when his thoughts drifted that way. So many Crowders packed so densely together…

"Is that really the only place left? There has to be other gas stations out there, right?"

"I know what you're thinkin', kid, and I'm not trying to give you the impression that I'm eager about goin’ anywhere near that place. The thing about it is that the business district has been that fucked up since the very beginning. Besides that Kevin's Heaven we went to last time, it's the only place I'm certain ain't been drained. Nobody would be dumb enough to try scavenging anything from there."

"Except us," Clay corrected.

"Yeah. 'Cept us. I wouldn't even be suggesting it if it weren't for those sound powers of yours. We're gonna fill them slots up with gunshots just to be sure." Alan pat Clay on the back so hard that the weaker man's slouched posture straightened all at once. "Don't worry over it so much. Long as we don't do anything stupid like last time."

This was happening whether Clay liked it or not. The only thing he could do is trust in Alan's leadership and experience.

"…By the way, if I had a cute nickname like Radman or Sadman, what do ya' think it'd be?"

Fatman.

Clay sucked his lips into his mouth. It was best not to say it, but that's the first thing that came to mind. It was also the exact sort of name that an adversarial Radman would give to Alan.

"You're makin' a weird face, kid."

"I was just thinking about it for a second…You like to wear that bucket hat, so maybe Hatman?"