Eloa and her tribe waved farewell to Scott and Harley before the duo rode off into the early afternoon. One situation settled, there was another thing that Scott wished to do before the gathering later that evening.

As they rode down the highway various monsters looked their way briefly then quickly skittered further from the road. Those that were in the road did their best to exit it completely before they were forced into a battle.

The results of the situation were not lost on Scott. When he rode Harley through the city after their last trip to the shopping arcade, they dealt with far fewer battles than his previous excursion.

The road out of the city had also been suspiciously clear of opponents, but it was not until they had reached an open area such as the route they now took that he could clearly see the truth of the matter. The monsters were indeed afraid of them. Even ghouls staggered out of the way, though there were precious few of them this far from the city and the suburbs.

"I wonder what we look like to them?" he asked softly.

Harley honked in a slow drawn out manner in a manner that seemed strange. Scott could not quite discern her sentiment from such a simple thing, but it almost sounded like a sigh. Briefly, he wondered why she did not simply speak. He was certain that she had done it in bike form before.

"Harley, we can talk about it when we stop. It's only about another mile to the grocery store," he said.

The little pink mini-bike's engine roared loudly and they picked up speed. Yellow columns of light appeared up ahead as they entered the territory of wandering monsters before they could quite escape the road. However, Harley's movement and speed were such they she easily cleared the possible confrontation area before a true battle field occurred.

"Damn," said Scott with a slight laugh. He quickly recalled how things went on his first day after the world changed. He could only move a single step at a time, even when the light screen was yellow. Yet, they were blazing through those cautionary fields like they were nothing.

His laughter came to an end and he released a far more sober sigh. "Guess that's why they killed all the cars... Can't have people easily escaping on the first day..."

Harley honkey again, but Scott merely told her that it could wait. The grocery store they sought was just up ahead and coming closer by the second.

The term grocery store was quite generous when it came to this particular building. A typical gas station for most of its life, the franchise abandoned it after the local city business construction shifted to the other side of town.

The city eventually sold it to a local man and he converted it into a combination produce stand and general food store. Although, the old man who used to own it also dabbled in furniture. It was a fairly eclectic place, all things considered. The next closest place that sold a variety of food was on the other side of town, so it did reasonable business after the change despite its slightly less convenient location.

Harley pulled to a stop in the small parking lot, and Scott hopped off. He glanced down to his motorbike buddy and she transformed into human form.

"I do not detect life forms of any significance," said Harley after she took a moment to perform a more intensive scan of the area.

"Thank you," he said before he spared the broken door and shattered windows a glance. "Probably not much left here, but we should check anyway."

"Yes, master," said Harley in a subdued manner.

Scott looked to her, but she said nothing. It was not unusual for her to spend lengthy periods of time in silence, but there was something slightly off about her tone.

"Did you want to discuss what I was talking about on the road?" asked Scott.

"There is no need, Master," she said. "I believe I understand your general intent."

"Ah... If you think so," he said. Honestly, he was merely curious about her current mood. From he saw on the road he felt it was likely that weaker monsters did avoid stronger ones.

Only the strange mannerisms Harley now showcased remained to be understood. If she did not wish to speak on the matter, it might make things worse.

"Let's head in..." he said after a quiet moment of reflection. Scott cleared the broken shards of gore-stained door from the grocery store entrance then offered his hand to Harley in order to help her across an overturned shelf that blocked the way forward.

Harley looked down, her visor further hiding her expression. "You don't have to help me, master."

"Isn't it about time that I helped you?" he asked softly. "I'm always the one being helped, after all."

Harley bit her lower lip then slightly tilted her head to the side. "If you really want to help me..."

Tentatively, she placed her dainty little hand into his much larger one. Scott squeezed her gently then lightly tugged her forward. He helped her upward, but the shelf slipped a little beneath them and she stumbled slightly.

Scott caught her before she could fall and held her up for a moment. Harley refused to say anything for a moment, but her cheeks did color slightly.

"You alright?" he asked her in a gentle tone.

She angled her head away from him and nodded. "Yes, master..."

"I'm glad," he told her sincerely.

"Yes," she agreed strangely.

They stayed there for a moment, the lithe young automaton held gently in her master's arms. She did not speak. Her rate of breathing did not change. What some might take for a sweet moment was instead quite the awkward pause.

Scott's thoughts went into a spiral as he bore witness to her strangeness. She blushed when he caught her, but her tonality varied between cold and monotone. "You keep calling me master... I've said it before that you can call me Scott..."

"Can I?" she asked, her tone still flat.

"Yeah, like everyone else—" he began, but he stopped mid-sentence when Harley turned swiftly and broke free of his grip.

"Harley?" he asked, shock evident in his eyes.

"We should not take too long here... Scott. We need to get what you came for and return for your important meeting," said Harley, her words precise and measured. There was an emptiness in their tone that made them ring hollow in his ears.

"Harley!" he exclaimed lightly. "What's wrong?"

She did not answer him. Instead she hopped off the opposite side of the shelf and began to walk through the remainder of the front area. She maneuvered around broken displays and avoided entering the area where the remnants of rotting meat remained.

Scott stared at her, surprised by her actions. This was the first time that she blatantly ignored him and he could prove it to himself. There were times when she might be slow to answers, or speak in a non-committal manner, but this was a first for him.

He started forward to try and get a few answers out of her, but stopped himself. System designations or not, did he really have the right to try and force her to talk to him? The new world order claimed she was his pet, but he truly disliked that appellation. She was Harley, not a gold fish. Instead of chasing after her, he turned away and headed off to search for what he needed.

Scott occasionally looked up over the shelves to see that Harley slowly meandered through the aisles. She bypassed rotting bits of fruit and the occasional half-eaten corpse while she searched. In one hand she held a shopping bag, and from the shape of it there seemed to be a few items inside.

For a moment, he nearly called out to her but decided once again to let it go. If she did indeed find their sought after provisions, she would not doubt have told him by now.

Returning to his discount shopping he picked up a yellow hand basket left in the aisle and began to toss items into it. The store was thoroughly ransacked, and no doubt more than once. From the somewhat fresher bits of blood spatter it no doubt saw action only a short time ago.

Bullet holes, and bashed shelves met him at every turn. Any canned food of use seem to be mostly gone. There was a bit of pet food remaining, but he figured someone else could use that if they were desperate enough. He reached the dry foods section then sighed. Blood soaked beans were scattered everywhere, mixed in with a few tiny piles of rice.

"Dammit," he said softly as he took in the destruction and emptiness left in the wake of an obvious recent salvage run. He expected it, but that not mean he needed to like it.

Scott reached the end of the aisle then checked on Harley. She was out of the front-end now. She stood near the small furniture section and seemed to be admiring a full-length antique mirror that miraculously avoided taking too much damage after the end of the world.

"Harley..." he said softly. He wanted to go see what was bothering the girl, but at the same time the oddness of the situation kept him silent. Instead, he glanced at the empty end-caps on the aisles then went to the next.

Booted feet stopped short as Scott bore witness to one of life's greatest ironies. He took a step back then sighed and shook his head. "Dammit, you fucking idiot..."

A pile of ghoul corpse greeted him, but just beyond them rested the head and upper torso of a familiar police officer. "Craig, you poor dead son of a bitch..."

Scott ignored the almighty stench just as he had done for the greater part of his trip into the store. The scent of decay was a powerfully nauseating thing, but he lived in that sort of hell for days now. The entire world stank of rot and death, this was no worse for him that traveling through the city.

Something about the scene piqued his interest. The way the corpses were piled up here suggested that they all attacked Craig, but he was facing them. Did he try to give his people a chance to escape? Was this his last stand, or was it something else?

"There's no way to know the truth..." said Scott before he stepped over the corpse pile and checked Craig's corpse more fully. If the others left in a hurry, perhaps some item or other was left behind?

After searching the pile and Craig's corpse Scott's eyes narrowed. In the front pocket of his uniform he discovered a slightly torn and bloodied photo. "The four horsemen, huh?" asked Scott politely.

The photo was one of Craig, Frank, Daniel, and Martin all sitting together at a picnic table. They were out of uniform, drinking bear, and enjoying barbecue ribs.

He turned the photo over and saw the words, 'Happier Times', written on the back. "Dammit, Craig..." said Scott. He coughed once to interrupt the dust getting into his eyes. It was thick in this store, and could easily make a man's eyes start to water.

Scott put the photo in his pocket figuring Frank might want it. Martin seemed like an alright guy, and to be honest Craig just chose wrong in the end. The only real douche in the mix was Daniel, and he seemed like he was one even before the world ended.

"No loot... but this gore and blood..." he said after he finished looking through the pile.

He was no forensic specialist, but he lived and breathed blood and gore over the course of the last week. The blood here was not dried completely. "Kind of warm today... still... gooey. Few hours ago? Early this morning? Sometime last night, maybe?"

"They must have been in a hurry if they left you here, but where are the items?" he asked curiously. Craig should have had a few things on him at least, but there was nothing. He doubted the ghouls ate the loot. "Someone came afterward? Is that what happened?"

Scott pulled the remainder of the corpse free of the ghouls then dragged him down the aisle. As he did so, something else made him stop and drop the man. It was a realization. "Why aren't you a ghoul?" he asked the corpse.

When ghouls killed humans, they became ghouls. It was just how things worked. Wasn't it? "Did they eat too much of you, or is it that you're a player?"

The latter was possible. He did not recall ever seeing an actual player turn ghoul. The only people he saw begin the change were the poor fat bastard on day one, and Dale. Even Dale was weird. The old man simply started to turn without reason. He was neither bit nor deceased at the time. It was almost like he simply wanted to be a ghoul and the world obliged him.

Scott tried to pick grab Craig and drag him away from the pile of corpses. He did not intend to bury the man outside. He lacked the tools, or the concern to take that much time for someone who left with the man who tried to take his life. During his attempt to drag the remains of Craig off to another part of the store where he could topple a shelf over on the poor bastard, a thick stream of congealed blood splattered from the man's back followed by what looked suspiciously like a piece of lead.

"The hell?" Scott asked as he eyed the slightly flattened bit of material. His eyes widening, he turned Craig over and pulled his tattered uniform up.

Scott's nostrils flared and his eyes tightened. "Somehow I doubt that was mercy..." he said while he examined the obvious bullet wound in Craig's back.

The flesh was tattered, much like his uniform and a bit of bone showed through. It was possible that the ghouls agitated it while they feasted, but who really knew how bullet physics worked anymore?

"Tough enough that your ribcage can stop a bullet..." said Scott thoughtfully, "But not tough enough to get away afterward..."

Scott did not know if his suspicions were true, but his paranoid mind told him one thing over and over again. Daniel, or someone at least, sacrificed Craig to save their own ass. Ghouls did not turn down a free meal and they did swarm a fallen corpse.

He dragged the rest of Craig off to the end of the aisle then put him in position. "This isn't because of who you were when I met you in the new world, but who you chose to be in the old one."

His eyes closed tightly and then he said, "Thank you for your service, officer."

Scott did his best to appear ceremonious as he overturned an end-cap shelf on top of the corpse. It was the best burial he could afford to give the man.

"I'll look after Frank. You can rest now," said Scott quietly as a form of eulogy. He did not really know Craig. All he knew was the fact that the man had a one-in-four chance of picking a good apocalypse bro and he chose the douchiest one. In this world, that was basically suicidal intent.

While Scott was busy burying a piece of his recent past, Harley stood in front of the mirror. Throughout Scott's discovery session she had continued to gaze curiously at herself. In fact, he finished his business and began making his way over to her.

She spoke for the first time since she walked away from her master. "What do we look like to them...?"

Utterly silent and perfectly still like a motionless doll, she stared into the mirror. No emotion could be seen clearly through her visor. No sign of her true feelings occurred save for one, the soft trail of liquid that slipped gently down her cheeks.

In the mirror behind her, a familiar form appeared. Scott offered her a tentative smile. She attempted to grant him one as well, but it fell as flat as her speaking voice had done recently.

"You're covered in blood... Scott," she said softly.

He attempted to make a joke to lighten the mood. "Wanna walk back together? I wouldn't want to get you dirty, and my fat ass could use the exercise."

She snorted slightly then shook her head and spoke with a slight hint of anger in her tone, "Of course you wouldn't... Scott."

"Harley, seriously what's going on?" he asked her.

"It is of no consequence... Scott," she replied mechanically.

"Oh, the hell with that crap!" he shouted angrily. He did not know how to deal with young girls who were being moody, much less young moody robot girls.

Scott stalked forward and gripped her by the shoulder. "Tell me what's going—" he began to say, only to have her helmet disperse right before his eyes. Shocked by the sudden change he was not able to resist what happened next.

Harley spun around quickly grabbed him by the head and kissed him sweetly on the lips. A split-second later her cheeks turned bright red, and the color even crept as far as her ears, but she refused to relent.

Scott got over his surprise quickly and pushed her away as gently, but also authoritatively, as he could. "The hell, Harley!"

Her face burning with the shame and embarrassment of it all, but she refused to look away any longer. Tears began to creep along the rims of her eyes in such a way that they sparkled slightly in the light. It did not take long before Scott's face became as red as hers. "Harley, wha—"

Harley's nostrils flared wildly and she released a pent up breathe with a loud huff. "You just kissed your little sister... Scott. Deal with it!"

She pushed him away and stalked off toward the door to the grocery store. Scott was left in place, his eyes staring wildly at the bewilder image of the man mirror. "T-the hell?"

His expressions similar to a shell-shocked victim in a war movie, he touched his lips and slowly shook his head. The world did not make sense. Since when did Harley act like that?

Outside the grocery store Harley clutched one hand to her chest. Her eyes were wide-open like an owl on crack. The color of her face rapidly becoming an even deeper scarlet shade, if such a thing could be believed. All the while, a high-pitched squeal echoed from her sweetly violated lips. "Eeeeeee..."