After visiting Anna and helping Fuji with her chores, Hank picked up Bumbles and took him to the dog park before darkness set in for good. He hoped to find the butterflies there and figure out what they were doing, since it was the place where Sue Marie had first seen them. Maybe with some luck he'd find a clue to Milton's whereabouts.

But it was not to be. The butterflies were gone. As Bumbles gamboled and played, Hank realized with sad trepidation that he had no home of his own anymore. His belongings were still crammed inside a half-dozen musty bags, piled in a corner at Rio's. Without so much as a sock drawer in a dresser to call his very own, for the first time since having been PEPed, he missed his tiny flat.

After Bumbles was done with his business, Hank piled him back into the Bentley. "I wonder how Milton is?" he asked the dog. "Should we try to find out?"

With his mind on a million things, he took wrong turn after wrong turn while looking for the estate. He swore the whole world was against him, as it seemed even Bumbles labored to throw him off track.

"This must be the place," Hank said as he followed a service drive he found winding through the woods behind the industrial park.

Only nothing was there. He got out of the car to look around, but when he opened the back door, Bumbles refused to leave. The dog yipped and parked his butt out of reach, daring Hank to dislodge him.

"Okay. Fine," he said to the mutt. He left the dog alone to explore the grounds on his own.

He didn't get far. "Who are you?" someone asked.

It sounded like a woman, but Hank couldn't be sure. A young person, to be sure. Possibly a teenage child.

"Where are you?" Hank asked back.

A door like the one on the redoubt, or perhaps like the sun porch on Milton's mansion, opened beyond a scrub of small trees. A manicured lawn appeared underfoot as Hank drew near, and a tiny Asian woman with hair curled like Rio's, but long, like Anna's, beckoned for him to enter.

"Come on!" she called. "Please come in!"

Only this Rio was young and very pale. In the approaching night, her eyes seemed to glow, backlit like an animal. As Hank passed through the door, he remembered how the lighting in Milton's mansion bothered him. Everything cast no shadow, making it hard to tell where things were. He also remembered its cavernous nature, with many twists and turns.

He followed the woman down what appeared to be the transverse hallway, with light fixtures gilded in gold leaf casting a warm glow. But rather than leading to the conference lunch room or the great hall filled with artifacts, the hallway seemed to go on forever. He recognized none of the areas they passed. The woman child led him deep into Milton's lair, and Hank felt he was being led in circles to purposefully confuse him.

When they reached their destination, they were standing high up on a widow's walk, perched on the apex of the building. "Anything and everything is yours," she, or perhaps he, said to Hank, casting his arm wide. "You may take it for as long as you like."

The child welcomed Hank to enjoy the view. Despite it being autumn, the vegetation below was lush. The city beyond the estate sparkled bright in stark comparison.

Hank mumbled with embarrassment. "Yeah, well, uh… thanks, Milton. Thanks again."

Hank suddenly realized who he was talking to. "Maybe I'll see you soon, my friend," the child said, leaving Hank alone on the rooftop.

After another quick glance at the landscape, Hank had to sprint to catch up with his escort. The hallways they now walked down were unusually dark.

"You know," he or she said to Hank, "despite my loathing of you, you are Man's best hope."

Where have I heard that before?

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," the young Rio said.

"Can you please tell me again why we're here?" Hank asked.

Young Rio spoke politely. "Milton's gone and I'm sick of being scared." She turned her warm eyes to Hank, seeking comfort from him. "Do you know what it's like to be afraid every fucking day?"

"I'm getting the idea," Hank said in eerie retrospect.

Rio grabbed his arm, hanging on him like a schoolgirl. "There's something about you that draws me in. Draws all women in. You're so damn calm and centered."

The woman's touch was invigorating. Hank felt appreciated for who he was, for the first time in his life. He knew this woman, this escort, this lover, would do anything, be anyone, give everything, endlessly and without succor. His needs by her would be sated, with the least of his whims becoming Reality.

She caressed his face with a loving hand. "Lately, you've picked up many women. Haven't you?"

"Hmm," Hank said off-handedly, his arousal causing only slight concern.

"Or maybe they've picked you up? Can you think of one with whom you could start a relationship?" They kissed. "Like maybe, all of them?" she asked into the almond butter of his brown eyes.

A flash of backlit yellow from her eyes brought Hank nearer to his senses. He muttered while trying to not to answer.

"You're not real," he said.

The woman child tittered and happily skipped away. "Come on!" she called again.

"No. I'm going back to the car."

The woman child skipped backwards with only three of her shirt buttons buttoned. "Don't be afraid!"

"I'm not afraid. I want to go home."

"You don't have a home."

"Well then, I want to go to…" Hank wondered if he should mention Rio's name to this stranger.

She plucked it from his mind anyway. "Rio? The crabby bitch with laser eyes?"

Hank grit his teeth. He wanted to strike out to find an exit on his own, but feared getting lost in this maze. The woman child grew ecstatic. She turned to face forward again and bolted through a door. Hank followed and found her outside on a sidewalk. With the day now long gone into the night and no exterior lights to be found, it was almost too dark to see.

The woman resumed skipping backwards, well ahead of Hank. "I know who!" she giggled. "Aika! Oh yes! The girl with a Neko cat tail in her ass."

"How do you know these people?"

The woman didn't answer. Instead, she pulled up her oversized shirt and peeked at him through its hems.

"Look!" she cheered in a quiet little voice. "No pants!"

Hank had seen enough. He turned to walk away. The woman child raced after him, giggling unemotionally.

"No, no, no, no!"

She took him by both wrists and held them, feather light in her hands. Tender seconds passed.

"Let me show you something else," he or she said sweet.

Another step forward and they were in the carriage house. Rows of cars went on for miles.

"How much do you think these are worth?" Hank was asked.

"I dunno. Millions? Ten or maybe twenty."

"And do you think this is Milton's only estate? How many homes does he own? How many other mansions are filled with his stuff?"

Hank spat out his answer. "I don't know!"

The woman child grew equally insolent. "You seem uninterested in addressing your own needs. Are you gonna suck off the teats of your friends for the rest of your life?"

Despite his kind nature, Hank scowled.

"Will you ever amount to anything? You, the goshujin, the ijoufu, the great RMing Dot, have you not one thing in this world you can call your own?"

"How do you know about Reality Making?"

"Ha! Look at me!" She spread her arms wide. "I know everything!"

The backlit yellow of her eyes became more prominent. Her grin seemed to hold razor teeth.

Hank had seen enough. "Who are you?" he demanded.

The child roared. "I am everyone!"

Hank headed towards the door. "I'm leaving. It's getting dark."

A tiny voice begged for mercy. "Don't you care about me?" Hank paused but didn't turn around. "I… I need you, Hank-himushi. I do. You're the only one who understands. You hold me together."

Hank turned. "I don't even know you."

"But you do understand me. We can be anyone! Go anywhere, do anything!" The woman child sidled up to him, her black hipster panties contrasting against the pale skin of her legs and belly, beneath the fully unbuttoned big man's shirt she wore. "You know, Rio still owns her sōpurando."

"No she doesn't."

"She does! She just doesn't go there. But it's still open. People still do sōpu sōpu."

The woman sang her last words. The tangerine scent of her body swarmed inside Hank's nose. Uncontrollably, his loins responded.

"Wanna take a bath?"

"No!"

"You can have woman after woman. Do all acts of sex and perversion, whenever and for as long as you want."

"Leave me be!"

Hank whirled to run away. In an instant he was in the redoubt. When he turned to look at the temptress, she wore Rio's riot gear helmet. In each hand was an unpinned grenade, with boxes of munitions stacked around her.

"You're not real," Hank said again, hoping to banish the demon.

"Oh yes I am!"

"None of this is real."

Evil lit young Rio's eyes. "Nothing is real, you idiot! I'll show you what's real! I'll blow your damn world to Hell!" To Hank's nonplussed look, she continued. "Milton already told you everything he has now belongs to you."

"I know. I don't want it."

"Oh but you do! You have his car. You have his dog."

"I'm borrowing the car. The dog was abandoned."

"You have his woman. Did he abandon her?"

"Rio?" Hank shook his head to regain more of his senses. "Rio is Milton's girlfriend? No. She's not. She has said so herself many times."

The woman child laughed, clutching her hand grenades. "And you have her girlfriend too. Her lover Leanne, wrapped around your pretty finger. Oh! And you have Anna! Dear sweet lovely Anna. Young and very innocent. You want her to love you so much!"

"Leave me alone."

"You want her to screw your balls off."

That was not the Anna Hank was after. And this person wasn't Rio. "You have nothing I want," Hank said, turning for a third time to leave.

When he placed a hand on the latch to the door, a strange light came from behind him. The woman transformed into a beast; a monster, a grizzly bear. She tossed the grenades over her shoulders into the cache of munitions. In a flash, she stood at his side. Voluptuous, tender, a lover, now fully grown and desirous. She licked his neck to rip out his jugular, heaving on his arm in order to reach it.

She began tearing his arm from its socket. She spewed oily black vomit down his throat.

"See you in Hell, my sweet," she said as the munitions exploded.

Hank screamed for Heaven to save him. He prayed to God for forgiveness. The blast struck the pale woman first, for she was standing closer. He watched her blow up in bloody bits. The last thing to go was her razor tooth smile.

Whimpering and crying, pleading for his life, Hank hunkered down in a ball. He covered his head with both hands.

"Go away!" he screamed, his words drown out by Death.

Protected somehow, the fireball poured over him. He dared not open his eyes as heat singed his brow and lashes. When it was over, he feared even to breathe. Life finally forced in air, coming to him in hacks and spurts.

Hank bellowed. He wailed. If he felt lonely before, if he ever thought he was unloved, it was poppycock now. Never had his heart hurt so bad. He'd rip the useless thing from his chest if he could find a way. Strugglling to so much as move, his arms felt cast in concrete, his neck brittle beyond breaking. Unable to straighten up from his lifesaving ball, he crawled towards the door to the redoubt on his hands and knees.

Only there was no door. There was no redoubt either. There was wreckage, but not from a recent explosion. The charred ruins he crawled over were damp. The fire that did this damage died a long time ago.

After a patient minute, Hank found his way to his feet. He turned his head with care so he wouldn't keel over and surveyed what remained of Milton's mansion. A tiny fire flickered in its exposed bowels, the remnants of great carnage. All the buildings were gone. Not even one timber stood.

Hank stumbled as he crawled down the service drive, and the stench from burnt cars in the carriage house gagged him. He tried breathing through the fabric of his hoodie, but it was too filthy to do any good. He felt like he'd spent forty days on his own in this prison, this Judeaen Desert of Hell. He barely made it back to the Bentley, and almost fell in the ditch when he opened the door.

He dragged himself into the driver's seat and, with his last ounce of strength, got the car started and put into gear. At a pace slower than when he was crawling, Hank drove away from Milton's estate.

Back in the city, he smiled weakly into the rearview mirror. "How ya doing?" he gasped, feigning humor at Bumbles' reflection.

At times, Hank used his hands and knees to make it up Rio's stairs and let himself into her apartment. The air mattress where they had slept the night before still lay on the floor in front of the telescoping shower head. After peeling off his vomit stained clothes and throwing them in the trash, he knelt on the mattress and washed without standing up. With Bumbles already asleep on Rio's side of the bed, Hank collapsed, naked and wet, on the other.

Sleep came in an instant. An unknown amount of time later, he heard whispering.

"Get out of bed, you crazy dog."

In his delirious state, Hank thought for a moment the whispers were directed at him. But when he heard Bumbles heading for the living room sofa, he realized what had happened.

"Where's Rio?" the voice whispered next, speaking to itself.

A woman's cold hand found Hank's body in the dark. He wriggled, and the covers were thrown back over him. Now awake a bit more, he heard the sound of someone undressing. When that someone burrowed under the covers and pressed her frozen body against the warm flesh of his back, Hank awoke in an instant.

"Oh God," Leanne said, wearing only her frilly panties. "I've been needing a hug for days."

Hank was still too stiff to move. He took the hand Leanne had on his hip and wrapped it around his chest.

"Please don't let me go," he begged, as he snuggled into her for the night.