South Harrison was a different kind of battleground.

  No floating islands, no soul-corrupting Miasma or rogue AIs.

  Just a sprawling, aggressive grid of asphalt, brick, and desperation. The humidity clung to me, a wet, heavy blanket that smelled of exhaust fumes and garbage from the river.

  The clothes were a cage. The soft cotton of the hoodie was too warm, the denim of the jeans too restrictive.

  How long had it been? Two years? Three? Five? I'd lost count in my chase after Momoka.

  They were a costume for a life I didn't have, a person I was pretending to be.

  I felt the eyes on me. The casual glances of people on their way to jobs I couldn't understand, living lives I couldn't truly comprehend.

  They were ants, scurrying through a colony I had only just been dropped into.

  Maya's father had been… unnerving this morning.

  His casual acceptance, the way he saw the mana in me and offered coffee instead of questions. It was a disarming tactic. A form of psychological warfare I hadn't encountered before. Kindness as a weapon. It was more effective than any fist or blade.

  I needed to get out. I needed air.

  But now I was here. Trapped.

  In a minivan.

  A beige car of some sort with a dent in the rear passenger-side door and a "My Child is an Honor Student at McNair High School" bumper sticker that was peeling at the corners. Mr. Hoshino's chariot.

  The radio was playing some insipid, girly pop song. The kind of bland, inoffensive noise that was clearly designed to placate the masses. A noise he was currently bouncing his head exuberantly to. It was unbelievable.

  He was probably a hundred and eighty six centimeters tall, and completely filled out the clothes he was wearing.

  "So!" he said, his eyes fixed on the traffic. "You know, I haven't been down this way in a while. Used to have a buddy who ran a pawn shop over on Montgomery. Good guy. A little shady, but good. You know the type."

  I didn't answer. I just stared out the window, watching the familiar, depressing landscape of suburbia blur into the slightly more depressing landscape of a city.

  "You know Reimi," he said, breaking the silence again. "Maya's always been a bubbly kid. The life of the party. But... she's also been a worrier. Since she was little, she's always had this... this sense of the world. She feels things. Other people's feelings. It's a blessing. And a curse, you know?"

  I didn't want to hear this. I didn't want to know about her childhood.

  It was...

  "And she was so worried about you," he continued, his voice a low, gentle rumble. "Last night. She tried to hide it, but I could see it. The way she kept looking at the door. Waiting for you to stop hiding from my wife in the bathroom."

  He was trying to build a bridge. To create a connection.

  "Hmph."

  "She's a good kid," he said, a fond smile on his face. "She gets that from her mom. Helen... she's a force of nature. When she decides she likes you, she likes you with everything she's got. There's no in-between. It can be... a lot."

  I just grunted again. A non-committal noise.

  "She's a good mother," I said, the words feeling stiff and foreign.

  "The best," he said. "She... she saw something in you. She doesn't always trust easily when it comes to Maya's friends. She's protective. But you... she took to you. Immediately. And Helen's intuition... it's never wrong." He looked over at me, a small, knowing smile on his face.

  I looked away.

  "And what about you, Mr. Hoshino?" I asked, my voice a low growl. "What do you see?"

  He didn't hesitate. "I see a kid who's been through hell."

  Mr. Hoshino turned his attention back to the road.

  "And you know what?" he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "That's okay. People who've been through the trenches all been through hell. Some of us just hide it better than others."

  He was quiet for a long moment, the silence stretching between us, filled only by the drone of the engine and the mindless pop song.

  "But, you know," he said, a sly grin spreading across his face. "There is one thing that you have to know. It's very important."

  He glanced at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  "I have amazing taste in music," he said, pointing a thumb at the radio.

  The song ended. A new one came on.

  And it was worse.

  It was a cheesy 80s rock ballad.

  "You know this one?" he asked, a wide, goofy grin on his face as he started bouncing in the driver's seat again.

  "No."

  "It's a classic!" he said, his voice a little too loud, a little too cheerful. "You can't tell me you don't like this one. It's impossible."

  He started tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, a terrible, out-of-rhythm beat as he started bobbing his head again.

  I just stared out the window.

  But I could feel my lips twitch.

  Just a little.

  Don't. Don't you dare smile.

  "You know, I used to sing to Maya when she was a baby," he said, a fond look on his face. "It was the only thing that would get her to stop crying. She'd be wailing her head off, and I'd just start singing and she'd just stop. She'd just stare at me, like I was a crazy person."

  He let out a loud, off-key note. "JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL!"

  I closed my eyes, a silent, desperate prayer for the world to end.

  "LIVING IN A LOOOOONELY WORRRRRLD!" he sang, his voice cracking.

  I could feel the corner of my mouth twitching again.

  It was so stupid.

  I turned to look at him.

  He was a complete and total idiot.

  A lovable, well-meaning, complete and total idiot.

  And for some reason... I didn't hate it.

  "Maya was disappointed when I texted her that you weren't going to come with her to the library," he said, suddenly all serious again. "But I get it."

  I looked away, my gaze falling back on the city. The buildings were getting closer.

  There was a tall, brutalist structure of concrete and glass that looked like it had been dropped here from a different, uglier dimension looming in the distance.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  "She's a Sentinel's daughter," I said, my voice flat. "She doesn't need to worry about me."

  "You know dang well she worries anyway," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "She's a good kid. Like I said. She gets that from her mom."

  He pulled the minivan over to the side of the road, the tires crunching on the gravel.

  "This's you," he said, nodding towards the building. "You sure you don't want me to wait? I can give you a ride back. Go shopping while I'm out here."

  "I'm sure," I said, my hand on the door handle.

  "Alright," he said, his expression serious. "But you be careful, you hear? There are a lot of wolves out there. And not all of them have four legs."

  "I know," I said, my voice a low growl. "I'm one of them."

  He just smiled, a slow, knowing smile.

  "I know," he said. "That's why I'm not worried."

  He gave me a small, respectful nod.

  And I knew, in that moment, that he understood me better than anyone had in a long, long time.

  That was... unsettling. On multiple levels.

  I opened the door, the warm, humid air hitting me like a punch.

  "Thanks," I said, the word feeling strange and clumsy on my tongue.

  "You're welcome, kid," he said. "And hey. Try not to break too much stuff."

  "I make no promises," I said, closing the door behind me.

  He drove away, the minivan disappearing into the traffic, the faint, terrible sound of his 80s rock ballad fading into the distance.

  I stood there, on the sidewalk, alone, staring up at the billboard.

  How long had it been since I'd last stepped into a city?

  This metropolitan area existed in my home world.

  It was one of the few major cities that wasn't wiped off the map by the monstrous 'Blightmother' that most of the heroes of my world could not even scratch. That I, for some reason, was unaffected by. Something I couldn't say for my friends.

  I shivered, imagining the blood red energy curling around my memories.

  Its ability to bypass any wide-area barrier or defense I was aware of was truly terrifying. It was defeated eventually, but it had razed entire nations to the ground before a grand coalition of heroes put it down.

  I passed by a sign marking the location as 'Journal Square PATH Plaza' - a name I definitely didn't recognize. A massive holographic billboard dominated the plaza, pulsing with an almost hypnotic rhythm.

  I flinched instinctively at the sight.

  A woman was displayed on the billboard - a Sentinel I didn't recognize. The name "Aurelian" was displayed in bold, golden, stylized letters. Her armor was a pristine white-and-gold, so polished it seemed to glow in the artificial light.

  She stood against a tide of monsters, her long, silver hair flowing around her as she generated a massive, high-output barrier that held back a writhing swarm of dark, insectoid entities. Her movements were precise, almost clinical, as she systematically eliminated them with golden blasts of energy from her hands.

  The woman was everything I wasn't. Clean. Bright. A celebrated hero, her face known to millions. It was a reminder to me this world had its own champions. Its own system. Its own rules.

  I turned away from the display, looking for a path that led downward, away from the light and the noise. I flicked open the phone Mr. Hoshino had given me, its screen showing a bowling alley on a map. That was the address.

  I followed the directions, my steps taking me away from the main plaza and into a narrower, darker street. The buildings here were older, covered in graffiti and grime.

  The entrance to the bowling alley was unassuming. A flickering neon sign, its tubes bent into the shape of a bowling pin, cast a sickly, green glow over the cracked pavement. A heavy, steel door, painted a chipping black, was the only entrance.

  No windows.

  No signs of life.

  It was perfect.

  I pushed open the door, a wave of cool, musty air hitting me. The smell of stale beer and defrosted chicken wings was thick in the air.

  The bowling alley was dark, the only light coming from a few scattered lamps over the lanes. Heads turned as I walked in.

  I could feel their eyes on me. A dozen of them, maybe more. A mix of hardened hunters and desperate scavengers, their faces scarred and their gear worn. They were a pack of wolves, and they were sizing me up.

  I was a young-looking Japanese girl in a hoodie and jeans. I didn't look like a threat. I looked like a lost college student who'd taken a wrong turn on her way to a frat party.

  I walked up to the counter, my footsteps echoing in the quiet space. The man behind it, a hulking dark-skinned brute with a scarred face and a missing eye, looked me up and down, a sneer on his lips.

  "Lost, kid?" he growled. "The arcade is that way."

  I didn't answer. I just looked at him.

  He was big. He was strong

  And I was not his prey.

  A pair consisting of a man and woman matching chrome-and-black gear with tanned skin and black hair approached my left, the woman with a smug look on her face.

  "This isn't a place for little girls playing dress-up," the woman said, her voice dripping with condescension. "You should run along home to mommy and daddy before you get hurt."

  The man at the counter cracked his knuckles, a loud, menacing sound.

  "Or not," he said, a predatory grin spreading across his face.

  "Heh," I grunted, unimpressed. I just stared at them, my lips curling into a smirk.

  They thought I was weak.

  They thought I was an easy target.

  They were about to learn a very, very painful lesson if things went the way I thought they would.

  "Yo, Shiv!" the woman called out, her voice dripping with condescension. "You got a runaway here. Lost little princess. Should we call her a cab?"

  A Caucasian woman emerged from the back office, a lit cigarette dangling from her lips. She was tall and thin, with a shock of bright pink hair that was shaved on one side. Her eyes were a cold, calculating gray.

  She was beautiful, and I couldn't help but find myself admiring her sharp, angular features. She looked like she was in her late twenties, and her smooth skin made me feel like a walking fossil by comparison.

  She was all lean muscle and sharp angles, like a panther. My eyes swept over her bare stomach, the toned lines of her abs flexing as she walked towards me. The only blemish on them was a scar across her midsection.

  She looked me up and down, a slow, deliberate appraisal.

  "She ain't lost, Silver," Shiv said, her voice a low, gravelly rasp. "And she ain't a princess. She's here for a reason."

  She walked over to the counter, her movements fluid and predatory.

  "So, what's your story, kid?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "You a runner? A thief? Or you just looking to get yourself killed?"

  "I'm here for a job," I said, my voice flat.

  She let out a short, sharp laugh. "A job? Honey, you don't even have a weapon hidden underneath that hoodie. What are you gonna do? Hit 'em with your purse?"

  The other hunters in the alley laughed, a low, mocking sound.

  I didn't flinch. I didn't even blink.

  "I'm more dangerous than I look," I said, my voice a low, even growl.

  "Is that so?" Shiv asked, a flicker of interest in her eyes. "Prove it to us then."

  She nodded towards a bulletin board.

  "The Board's right there," she said. "If you can handle one, the job's yours. If not... well, I've got a mop and a bucket in the closet. You can start there."

  I didn't say a word.

  "You got a Sentinel Classification, hun? Freelancer Rating? Anything?" Shiv asked, leaning against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest.

  "No," I said.

  "So you're a ghost," she said, a small, predatory smile playing on her lips. "No name, no rank, no history. That's... interesting. And dangerous."

  I didn't answer. I just stared at her.

  She was testing me. Pushing my buttons. Trying to see if I'd break.

  I wouldn't.

  I walked over to the board, my movements slow and deliberate.

  It was a chaotic mess of papers, a gruesome collage of desperation.

  Some were neatly typed, printed on official-looking paper. Others were scribbled on stained napkins, the ink smeared and barely legible. A few were just crude drawings, a child's nightmare of teeth and claws.

  My eyes scanned the board. I ignored the ones labeled 'E-Rank' and 'D-Rank' immediately.

  "So. The jobs the guilds don't want wind up here? The ones too annoying for their precious, high-ranked members? Too difficult for their newbies?" I asked, my tone laced with a scorn I couldn't quite hide. "The ones they're too scared to take, so they leave them for the dregs like you lot?"

  The big brute with the missing eye, who had been watching me with a sneer, finally spoke up.

  "Hey, kid," he growled, taking a step towards me. "You got a lot of nerve for someone who looks like she's about to start crying."

  I didn't even look at him. My attention was on the board. My eyes narrowed as I focused on one of the postings.

  A crude drawing of a massive, multi-limbed creature with a gaping, tooth-filled maw. The words "River Kraken — Bergen-Lafayette Dungeon Breakout. C-Rank." was scrawled beneath it in thick, black marker.

  The reward was a pittance. Five hundred dollars? For a creature like that? It was a death sentence for anyone here dumb enough to take it.

  "Five hundred dollars for something that's probably over level one hundred," I said, my voice a low, humorless chuckle. "That's... cute. Are you paying in expired food stamps?"

  The duo heckling me snickered, their condescending smirks never leaving.

  The brute with the missing eye, who had been watching me with a sneer, finally spoke up.

  "You got a problem, kid?" he growled, taking a step towards me. "You think you're better than us?"

  I turned my head, my gaze landing on him. He was big, but he was slow. His movements were clumsy, telegraphed. He was all brawn, no brain.

  "I think I'm smarter than you, big guy," I said coolly. "And that's all that matters."

  He snarled, his face contorting in rage. He lunged at me. A clumsy, telegraphed grab that I saw coming from a mile away.

  I didn't move.

  I just stood there, my face a perfect, blank mask, as I watched him come at me.

  I didn't even bother to dodge. I just raised my hand, my fingers extending.

  And I stepped inside with a slight pivot on my foot. Faster than most of the people in the room could probably react. I made sure not to make too much noise as I closed the gap.

  I aimed a short knife hand strike at his elbow crease with a tiny fraction of my strength, and quickly shoved him back with the bottom of my palm, lowering my stance.

  The brute screamed, a high-pitched, girlish shriek of agony. He stumbled back, clutching his arm, his face twisting in disbelief.

  A bruise was already forming. A deep, ugly black and purple. A perfect impression of the blade of my hand.

  "What did you just..." he croaked and wheezed.

  His entire arm would be useless for a week. Minimum.

  I knew, because I'd aimed at a nerve cluster.

  And then he fell to his knees, wheezing for oxygen as the second strike finally registered.

  My gaze swept over the rest of the hunters in the alley. They were all staring at me, their mouths agape.

  A ripple of surprised whispers went through the crowd.

  I was no longer a lost little girl to them.

  Shiv, who had been watching the whole exchange with a look of detached amusement, let out a low, appreciative whistle.

  "Well, well, well," she said, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her face. "Looks like the little princess has claws."

  She took a long drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling around her head like a halo.

  "So," she said, her eyes narrowing. "You still interested in that Kraken job?"

  I looked back at the board, my gaze landing on the crude drawing.

  "Yeah," I said, keeping my voice neutral. "I'll take it."