I had to pull up the Page Class sheet to confirm I did.

That was vague. And slightly concerning.

Having secured Talia as a summon, I left the safety of the dungeon‘s cleared floors. I had no doubt I’d return here, but the Lithid sure as hell didn’t sound like an encounter I wanted to rush, not until everything else was handled. For the first time in a while, I found myself without a ride. Mom was dealing with something critical on the site, and calling Nick would open myself up to questions I didn’t want to answer.

Maybe it was, perhaps, an oversight to not realize the merchant's ever-growing inventory would eventually expand to cover transportation. From the initial reports, the dome covered Dallas proper and the surrounding area, over four-hundred square miles.

It was still jarring. On the top of one page was a morning star and a silver hammer that looked like it was forged in the depths of pre-balrog Moria, and on the top of another was a candy-apple red, Tesla Model S. It wasn’t called that, of course, nor was any of the “T” branding present, but judging from the curvature and general form factor it was impossible to mistake as anything else. It was priced at a steep S200,000.

Notably, it was only a hundred-thousand with my discount. Not that I would ever, seriously consider such a thing. For longer than a few seconds at least.

Along with the Not-Tesla, there was a litany of Not-Hummers, Not-Hondas, and Not-Mazdas. The Not-Hondas in particular were fantastically priced, with some cheaper options costing less than the eldritch armor.

Those were considerably more tempting.

There was a certain amount of novelty to the idea of even being able to afford a car. Even when I was seriously considering one before all this, when my biggest problem was having a way to get home from college in case my siblings needed me, my wildest fantasies involved a small down payment, low interest rate, and a reasonable monthly bill. The idea of being able to purchase a car outright was completely foreign to me.

Still, I wasn’t an idiot. Stupid, visible spending was the most overdone and cliché way to get people to wonder where exactly you were getting the capital and start connecting dots they wouldn’t otherwise. So, no. However tempting it might have been, I wasn’t going to buy a car until I had some affiliation or legitimate job to explain where the funds were coming from.

But I was sure as hell going to buy a bike.

Not a motorcycle. An electric bike. I’d wanted one since the first helpline incident, when I’d stolen it back for the client with more crypto than sense. Compared to my purely pedal-driven rusty chained piece of junk, the five short blocks I rode it back to the school parking lot was bliss.

I picked one in the middle-range that looked similar to my previous bike. It came in a half-dozen colors, including a silver that was nearly an exact match. The only people likely able to tell the difference would be my siblings, who knew for a fact my late bike lacked a battery, or a mechanophile with piteously low standards.

It was almost identical. Riding it, though, was a whole other thing.

Wind blew through my hair as I took a tight turn, going up on the sidewalk to avoid a mess of abandoned cars. I nearly crashed a half-dozen times when I first started, the thumb throttle’s abrupt acceleration taking a while to get used to. The cycling infrastructure always sucked here, with next to no bike lanes and borderline homicidal traffic.

It was one of the few ways the post-dome city was an improvement. There were more potential obstacles and detritus, but less traffic overall, with people driving less and less due to the gas shortage. I spotted a few system branded vehicles as I crossed midtown.

I caught myself smiling a few times. It was such a small thing, not having to pedal my bike, but it felt symbolic of something greater.

It lasted until I reached my destination.

The gated community smelled of grass clippings and old money. “Ten Lakes” hung in gilded lettering on the right side of the entry-way, the concrete driveway leading up to a beige-bricked security hut.

A sweating guard let me through after I gave him Nick’s name and address, but not before giving me and my newly acquired bike some serious side-eye and a strict warning not to ride on the sidewalk. As I rode slowly through the neighborhood, pointed out no less than twenty cameras. Some were placed where you’d expect, up high on light posts or community buildings, others were particularly hidden in strange places, like trees and even a parked utility van.

Nick was waiting for me in the driveway, hands plunged deep into the pockets of his khakis, the sleeves of his light blue button-up rolled to his forearms. He grinned and gave a wide wave, as if directing traffic. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

I pulled the break and dismounted, placing the bike into my inventory before he could get a closer look. “Sorry. Had something to do.”

“Always busy,” Nick chided, “Just happy you’re here, man.”

“Where else would I be?”

“Doing sketchy-Matt-things. Honestly, I expected you, of all people, to have some sort of angle on this by now.” He studied me carefully.

I had to be careful here. Nick was one of the few people closely familiar with how I operated. Right now, he was being curious, but if I was too flippant or dismissive, that curiosity could easily turn into suspicion.

“I have a few ideas. All theoretical. It’s been too chaotic to put anything into action, though. At least as a civilian. Too many variables I’m out of the loop on.”

Nick nodded, seeming to buy it. “Careful, as always. But you’re a civilian no more.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not sure being a Page is much different. If you’re some sort of knight class, doesn’t that basically make me your errand-boy by definition?”

He planted an accusatory finger in my chest. “One, I know what it sounds like when you’re fishing. We’ll talk about classes and whatnot after the girls get here. And two, no. Maybe if you’re going by the medieval, grown-men-squatting-on-pots interpretation, but me having a potentially better class doesn’t mean I’m going to treat you any different.” His face grew cloudy. “Not to mention that’d be stupid as hell. You’re the last person I’d want plotting against me.”

He held out a fist and I bumped it. I caught the vaguest hint of a lilac cologne. “Fair enough. What’s the plan for today?”

“Pizza in the kitchen. Then planning, then team-building with the group. Not necessarily in that order. Figured we’d play it by ear.” He indicated for me to follow him, and I did.

“Where the hell did you get a pizza from?” I asked, puzzled. From recent memory, there wasn’t any pizza in Kinsley’s stock. Nick couldn’t cook and, from what he’d said at the café, he was house sitting.

“Figured, given the situation, it was time to get a little better at practical bachelor skills. Made it from raw ingredients.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Took a few tries.”

Bullshit. He jokes constantly that he couldn’t boil water if someone put a gun to his head, and it’s probably true. buzzed. Even without the title, it would have been obvious that Nick was lying. I was more confused than alarmed. Nothing else he’d said—up to and including not wanting me as an enemy—read as even remotely deceitful.

Some people uncomfortable with deceit sometimes lead with small, unnecessary lies. It’s not pointless or pathological, rather, for them, it’s a necessary primer to grease the wheels for whatever they’re actually endeavoring to hide. The question was, what exactly was he hiding and why?

My title was still on cool-down for another hour, so no using to cheat. I’d have to do this the old-fashioned way.

I asked the obvious question. “Just us for now?”

Nick nodded, a little too quickly. “Yep.”

The dark red door opened into a multi-story atrium. Nick left the door open behind him and kicked off his shoes at the entrance. I looked down, pretending to follow suit while I studied the entryway. Next to Nick’s boat shoes were two marks of dirt on the planked floorboards. I breathed in slightly through my nose and caught a note of wood cleaner.

Women’s size 7 and 9 respectively. Shoes hidden, floor cleaned in a hurry. Jinny and Sae are already here, but he doesn’t want me to know that for some reason. The question is… why? None of them seemed hostile at the meeting and despite carrying all appearances to the contrary, this doesn’t feel like a trap. But if it was a trap, where would I be hiding?

Subconsciously, my vision was drawn to the overhang. I stepped beneath it. And immediately jumped back as a figure came plummeting down.