Steady footsteps trigger echoes from the impact against the smooth white floor, echoes that are well audible against a rather plain soundscape with only minor distant chatter functioning no more than whitenoise.

The floor itself is well lit without a doubt, yet the further up it’s trailed the more light creeps onto it, but moreover the pure white becomes mixed in with a gradient of cyan.

Whooshes of an opening door alerts for the raising of the head up to experience the abrupt flooding of the senses, a stream of blaring hums mixed with substantially loud chatter coming from the dense crowds of people up close from adults in suits to younger teenagers and children in casualwear, sweaters and shirts. The mob of people walk left and right in rather unorganized lines, and further on ahead there are others walking up and down along the streets between the colossal silver towers smooth without external features other than their shapes and curves. Above the strips of walkers in the street are more lanes but of vehicles zooming up and down, multiple in fact and all a blur when viewing it all from below. Past all of those pods is the bright blue sky with only sparse fluffy white clouds covering, for the day is still young and the sun has only recently risen, but at the same time it’s already so lively and clustered.

So dense are the crowds that it’s difficult for Dexter to navigate, constantly bumping shoulders with random folk before he can even catch a glimpse of them, slightly irritating him to clench his teeth although he calms upon noticing Rica who just casually slips through the moving cracks of the surface river.

He just shakes his head from the irony of his own frustration and continues pushing through, his build prohibiting such easy agility but at least his slender form gives some leeway to try catching up.

Tighter he glares to keep track of his companion as he treks through the human swamp, but he does eventually reach the other side where he’s able to stumble forwards with some breathing room that he takes liberally by panting, but only for a couple seconds before returning his focus to find Rica in front of him, staring down the street which he does too in intrigue.

Down that same street they were approaching there are several blocks of towers, although there is a noticeable end that leads to a substantially wider space free of any tall buildings like a plaza. However it is not entirely flat, for there is a strange massive metal blue sphere sitting on the ground blocking most of the plane’s view, the sphere about a couple building stories in diameter. Down the street a few pods depress from the higher lanes, cautiously landing on the central lane that’s noticeably less dense than the edges for that particular reason.

That area seems likely to be the target judging by Rica’s tightening stare, leaving Dexter now to wait for her to resume the same path. He waits patiently as she glances to the side randomly, but upon turning her head her eyes widen first in shock before suddenly in excitement, and she begins sprinting in the other direction which shocks Dexter too but instead from becoming excitement it instead becomes panic as he takes off to chase her, utterly baffled by her abrupt change in direction.

Rather than continuing in a straight path to the intended destination that being the nearby plaza, the angled trajectory taken instead leads down the right of the intersection to a storefront with open doors in between two huge plush constructs with the left one resembling a pineapple and the right being a donut, the pineapple about the height of a man and the donut with a ring wide enough to wear around the hips, both of them with humanized facial features that being eyes and a mouth although in a cartoonishly simplistic form of black dots and simple lines. That realization only makes Dexter freak out more, throwing his arms in the air as Rica just races in through the doors.

Too slow the devil was as by the time Dexter enters through the doors, he finds himself already lost inside a large store with white walls and interluding wooden boards,but along those walls are shelves from the floor to the ceiling fully populated with various smaller plush constructs, many of them resembling fantastical creatures some of dragons with the reptilian forms accompanied by great wings and others of coiled snakes but ones fluffy enough and with endearingly simplistic expressions making them more appealing.

The store is populated but not by a crowd nearly as dense as the one outside, and this one not as mixed either as there are primarily families with younger children below teenhood accompanied by their parents. But after a quick scan and a following jog which still catches the attention of some puzzled children, Dexter paces down the store along the wall past the tables holding more plush toys of large apples and smiling cups to find that around one of those further tables stands Rica who's already got her hands gripping something.

Panting more exhaustedly now but finally able to rest, Dexter catches his breath as Rica notices him and delightfully shows him her object of interest with both hands: a plush resembling what looks to be a three-headed iguana of all things, one that conceptually isn’t the most appealing yet clearly excites the middle aged adult.

But before Dexter has a chance to react, she places the plush down and sprints off deeper down the store, forcing him to grab what he had recovered and use it to push himself in her trail.

Despite there being no tall aisles to cover parts of the store, allowing solid visibility of the entire area from about any angle, that doesn’t particularly make the hunt for Rica much easier as Dexter tracks her down to the wall where she picks up a plush teacup sitting on a plush plate, holding each item with one hand cautiously and separating her arms to find that each plush is an individual component, an incredibly simplistic fact that she seems awe-struck by as Dexter nearly reaches her, only for her to dash to the table further down where she admires a set of cupcakes with various colors of frosting: some blue, others red and some green. All of them have faces but all with the precise same design, the exact same positioning and size of the black dot eyes and the same curvature of the line functioning as the smiling closed mouth.

Enthralled by the horde of cupcakes, Rica’s eyes sparkle before she then places one hand over one of the cupcakes with red frosting as though patting it, but not before racing off just as Dexter nearly catches her again.

Next Rica can be found admiring a particular shelf against the wall, one housing a row of teddy bears by the first glance, but as she examines them more keenly it’s found that each of them is clothed differently and wielding different items, with one of them dressed in silver knights armor wielding a greatsword and another in a robe in a pose with one hand gripping a wooden bow and the other pinching a small arrow held against the string.

Upon a more physical inspection, Rica even finds that she’s able to push down the knight helmet visor to enclose the bear entirely, but just as easily pull it back up to reveal the face, a mechanism that brings a warm smile to her while in the distance Dexter chases her before bumping into a random boy and stumbling backwards.

In another instance Rica hoists up a plush toy with several soft golden rings at different angles, all of them with black dots along the outer side. In the center is another black dot albeit larger, the entire toy having a somewhat creepy design but one that’s still marveled at and even more held tightly against her chest in a hug as in the distance Dexter lowers his head in shame as a mother scolds him while standing next to the aforementioned boy whose rubbing his forehead in disorientation.

Soon after deeper into the store by another table Rica can be found examining a plush of an adorable gray cat but strangely with a barrel protruding from its head equipped with a traditional flamethrower nozzle along with the pilot torch underneath.

She picks it up and holds it as Dexter alas manages to reach her, although pauses in bafflement to the table beside hers, one that is notably longer and houses an array of other plushes although these ones depicting traditionally shaped firearms with several colt-shaped pistols by the edges and even assault rifles towards the center, a strange choice for a plush toy but one that a distant kid already has been carrying with him in the form of a long sniper rifle that he carries by the barrel due to its overwhelming length.

Disregarding the store’s questionable inventory, Dexter finally walks behind Rica who notices his presence and cheerfully flashes him the flamethrower cat, only putting him in a greater state of defeat.

Eventually Rica and Dexter find themselves at the counter of the store where on the table is a stack of disorderly plush toys that being an order of: a teacup with its accompanying plate, a scone with eyes, a lion with bat wings, and the flamethrower cat, all of them being struck by a blue light before vanishing, stored inside a small pink pencil-pouch shaped device held by the exhausted man on the other side of the counter dressed in a pink shirt with a white apron, expressed in baggy eyes and a reclining hairline. He hands the Pouch over to Rica who joyously picks it off him and turns back to face the door, beginning her way back out through the direction she came as Dexter nods to the cashier who just stares back dully.

Back in the bustling city streets Rica emerges as the pink Pouch flashes blue from a light projecting from her hand which then absorbs the Pouch, leaving her free to hold them together as she turns around to Dexter also exiting the shop, pointing in the direction they came from but with no audience as Rica’s gaze has shifted deeper down the street perpendicular to that of their destination, and worse so her expression lights up again.

This time she grabs Dexter’s wrist before sprinting down the streets, notably shorter and lighter, however able to force him wherever she pleases, unaffected by any of his attempted resistance.

When a river has enough power to push itself through, not even rocks can hold back its speed, and just like that there is no slowing down the crowds in the streets, the traffic between the silver towers, or the cyan supersun that reaches its climax in the sky above the clouds before then starting to depress. The holographic billboards sitting against the silver buildings flash different advertisements of different colored backdrops and images.

Down on the city ground one of those advertisements is being played, the particular one with the resemblances of a movie poster depicting a man at the forefront dressed in a regular businesswear of a bright blue collared shirt above brown khakis. The man’s build is nothing more than ordinary, a body flat with little muscle mass and a face rounded and uninspired. The backdrop of the poster is that of what just looks to be an ordinary office building with cubicles behind him in a huge room with distant white walls, lit white but without any other colors to give any flare. A large bold title sits at the bottom of the advertisement, reading: ‘PAUL III: FINDING A NEW JOB,’ with a footer featuring various names in a smaller font separated by a decal of a sheet.

Despite the monotonous expression of the lead actor, on the ground by the building displaying the advertisement Rica points up to said display with a galvanized face balanced by Dexter’s uneasy display while he glances back at the direction of the former destination, only to be grabbed by the hand and ran the other way.

In a flash Dexter finds himself at a booth inside a building with red carpeted floors and golden walls, standing in front of a table where on the other side is a group of adults all dressed in the same uniforms of black shirts with red trims around the sleeves, all given berets which stick to them as they run back and forth to other customers beside Dexter, the one currently interacting with him handling a bucket with red and white stripes filled to the brim with shimmering yellow popcorn.

Dexter reaches out for the bucket with a defeated sigh, but his slow movements put him at loss against the swift snatch of Rica beside him, gripping it with both hands and turning around thus indicating to Dexter that he has to turn around again which he does with reluctance.

In another flash Dexter finds himself seated in a dark auditorium-esc room, sitting on one of many dark red cushioned seats in a long row, one row of many in different elevations with the higher rows being pushed further back, all of the seats occupied by a diverse audience of young children accompanied by their parents to teenagers a pair of whom boy and girl are embracing each other without much focus ahead anyways.

But it’s at the bottom most row where Dexter is on a red seat right beside Rica, both of their heads angled steeply upwards, forcing an uncomfortable tilt that isn’t at all bothersome to Rica who clutches to the bucket while grabbing handfuls within.

Outside the cyan supersun continues to lower from its kingly height in the city, its circular body bleeding behind the taller silver skyscrapers, partially concealing its shape and thinning its light, very subtly casting darker shadows on the metropolis as the blue sky just ever so slightly darkens.

Eventually out from open doors of a building with red carpeted floors steps out Dexter, yawning with the cupping of his mouth before raising his head up to notice the darkening sky, triggering the expansion of his eyes in worry while Rica too becomes concerned, but not while staring up rather instead down at a blue holographic screen in front of her in the shape of a list.

The screen closes as Dexter points to the sky, his other hand being grabbed by Rica before she again drags him further away, entirely ignorant to the passage of time.

There are still crowds, but rather than walking in the outdoors between the silver highrises they instead walk in interior corridors with white lit enclosing walls. The passages are still wide although not nearly as much, condensing the herd as they flow in and out of various open doorways along the walls each with a titled sign atop and visible interiors fashioned as stores although ones displaying products of completely different fields from interiors decorated with shirts held against the walls and others with its walls lined with rows of shelves populated by shoes.

Regardless of the differing flow there is still difficulty for Dexter to push through in his desperate bid to keep proximity to Rica who leads him ahead.

Mercifully later there is not nearly as much of a mob when inside one of those stores with clean white walls, those walls mostly concealed behind white storage cubes crammed with stacks of folded clothing.

Further down that wall past wandering customers some of whom are clusters of teenage girls is a section of the wall that rather than having small cubic shelves instead simply had a single board against the whole strip, and against that board are two rows of jackets of various styles, with a few smaller fleeced windbreakers by the left but further down had much larger puffy coats, those of which being the focus of attention of Rica and unwillingly Dexter.

All of the puffy coats had generally the same design with the main distinction being the color, for while there were blacks and whites there were also blues and reds, with one of them being a vibrant midnight purple shiny against the soft balanced white lighting. Fixated on that particular shade which was on the higher of the two rows, Rica attempts to reach for it, however her arm struggles to extend far enough to the top even when she raises herself by her toes.

Toiling to reach that one specific coat, she doesn’t stop regardless of the clear futility of the situation, not until that coat is pulled by the hand of her companion by her side who effortlessly moves the coat off the wall after overpowering the almost magnetic resistance as there’s no visible mechanisms holding them up.

Stepping to the side and turning around Rica is handed the coat by Dexter, gleefully pulling it from his hands and instinctively slipping her arms through the sleeves, throwing it on top of herself even with her navy blue blazer still on.

Fortunately the coat does fit regardless, or more accurately it’s well large enough as it almost consumes her, her arms nearly doubling in thickness and there being a clear distinction of where the coat ends and where her legs begin due to the sharply contrasting depth.

Rica holds both arms outwards and twirls around in the coat a full rotation before motioning her hand from the bottom center of the coat up to the collar, to which the coat almost magically closes on her without a zipper present.

She then stops in front of Dexter and presses her hand on her left arm, to which suddenly the coat transforms as the puffs seemingly shrivel inwards, leaving it a quilted albeit far sleeker design more akin to a bomber jacket.

She presses on the same spot on her arm to which it puffs up again, and she makes the reverse gesture of swiping down in front of the coat which causes it to open back up, letting her slip out of the coat which she then hands to Dexter without warning.

As Dexter grabs the coat before it can be dropped to the ground, Rica turns around and in that same smile she dashes off, forcing him to have to run after her.

In snapshots of dashes Rica appears in front of a long metal rod hovering with an array of sweaters floating just underneath, all of them made with an exterior soft fur that she feels with her hand, most of them white and gray without as much variation as the coats.

That fact doesn’t displease her however, as she very cheerily picks up one of the white sweaters, held by a similar magnetic hold but one she alone can now remove it from as Dexter catches up to her, providing her the service to toss the sweater atop the midnight coat in Dexter’s hand before running off again.

Now she’s at another metal beam, although this one in the shape of a ring with more sweaters also levitating underneath but in a circle rather than a line. She then swipes at the ring, causing it to spin slightly like a carousel, allowing her to focus on a gray wool turtleneck that she also grabs off, tossing it over the air just in time for Dexter to reach the dropzone for it to fall in the pile that’s accumulated in his hands, not only the coat and fur sweater but also a stack of pants and shirts.

That pile soon includes socks as well, specifically fluffy large socks sitting against a mirroring pane as if attached to it by stick. Rica judges the fluffy socks, definitely larger than her feet but that being the point itself, as she fixes her gaze on a pair black but with blue and green circles dotted around in the design of Earths but cartoonishly simple. She nonchalantly grabs the socks by the center and plucks them off the pane as right beside her Dexter already is, his back arched in exhaustion with a mountain concealing nearly his whole face, a mountain that only gets taller when that pair of socks is dropped on its peak.

Not long after Dexter and Rica walk side by side with the former carrying the titanic mountain in his arms like laundry. The two are still inside the store, walking past tables and hovering metal rods with arrays of shirts hanging right below, but their primary focus becomes a lengthy line of people that they come across, one by the center of the store but leading all the way down to the far end where a white table resides, presumably the checkout.

In a flash the line has somewhat progressed with Dexter and Rica no longer at the tailend but instead sandwiched by newcomers, those being the preceding group of teenage girls who ramble to each other.

Next frame the line has pushed more, with Dexter and Rica finally by the center of the line and closing distance, but now Rica is holding the coat with some of the sweaters, gifting Dexter the eyesight to view a red hologram in the same shape of the digital clock, and while the screen itself isn’t as legible from the angle he displays it to anyone but himself, his anxious reaction is adequately informative.

Eventually the two are at the front of the line, with the heap now on the counter table with a woman on the other side in a black uniform grabbing a fleece white Pouch from below the block table, letting it cast a blue light onto the pile thereby storing it with the whole table miraculously spotless. She hands it off to Rica who gleefully takes it, and on her way she is out of the line with Dexter following along.

Ultimately out of that store with just the one pouch, Dexter sighs in relief as Rica does too, but whereas he faces the direction they came from she instead centers on the earlier shoe store upon noticing a rack along the wall holding tall winter boots, some of them with fur around the rim or soft leather bodies, and instantly upon noticing the gaze Dexter sighs again but not one so comforted.

Sometime in the far future from an open doorway against a silver building out steps both Dexter and Rica, the former carrying now a stack of Pouches despite each of them carrying their own surplus inventories, each of them also unique in color and material as there are black leather ones and pink fur ones among others.

Instantly upon stepping outside, it becomes apparent without another thought that the bright sky has long ceased, and instead of cyan lighting the city it’s up to the rainbow-colored projections cast off the many towers.

This fact is focused on by Dexter who raises his head up to find that instead of the supersun in the sky there is instead the moon, and instead of white clouds there are white stars, the day already nearing its conclusion.

While Dexter is frozen by the drastic change of day, Rica holds her hand out to him and projects a blue light over all the Pouches, storing them with her and freeing his hands for once.

She then turns around, already seeking the next destination when it is now her hand that’s grabbed by Dexter who has his own set path which he begins dragging her towards, a path with a destination she’s very much aware of as telling of her childishly disappointed frown as she becomes the reluctant follower.

A short displacement from the original starting position but an arduous distance tangled in all the back and forth, at last Dexter and Rica stroll down the street ahead which is still very much alive despite the time, although there’s a noticeable lessening of younger people at an hour like this. There are outliers however like the groups of teenagers who walk together though, jumping in front of each other in conversation as the two colleagues ignore them.

Nonetheless they walk to the end of the final pair of towers, the gates to the open plaza where straight ahead of them is that same huge dark blue orb just sitting. In the distance however the majority of the silver towers project huge billboard holograms of different advertisements, casting various lights some of which reflect off the orb that crowds of people walk around, the pair doing the same along its right.

Circling around the orb bestows a much grander view of the circular plaza which is expansive in size, multiple blocks of flat ground yet densely occupied by mobs of citizens all surrounded by the wall of skyscrapers in just about all directions.

Also circling around the plaza are many more of those same blue orbs, but from within the circle it becomes clear that they are indeed open and contain rows of bleacher seats in green with white stairs along the sides, all curved inside with the ends just about facing each other. Each of them are the same size, and most are occupied by people seated on different elevations, speaking to each other or eating on their own.

While most of the plaza is one flat plane, at the very center is a wide elevated platform hovering up about a foot in the shape of a shield shaped similarly to a diamond but with a flat top. At the end of the shield in a straight line are five giant golden statues of humanoids, small from afar but clearly towering over any regular man.

Around the plaza too are strangely enough truck pods also levitating passively and in operation with lights coming from the side, specifically from large openings each having one with an adult on the other side listening to lines of other people standing around. The pods also have the shape of food trucks although smoother, but colorful with some yellow and others greens and blues. There are several all placed somewhat randomly in between the orbs and the central memorial, with other people sitting at the edges of the shield platform while eating presumably from those trucks.

Gazing back up at the night sky, Dexter sighs to himself as Rica continues on ahead, her smile invincible.

Leading the way, Rica reaches one of the lines standing by a truck pod, this one yellow with the large text ‘JOHNS JOHNS’ beside the opening and an icon of a cheerily smiling cartoon face of an elderly Caucasian man with a white beard and red cap.

Behind her follows Dexter before reaching her side, where they wait as the line inches forward after the person at the head departs to the right, letting the next order.

Through the window there seems to be a small kitchen in the back of the truck with white counters littered with small curved trays and miscellaneous items, most of it hidden behind the man in a gray hoodie, lacking any sort of uniform but instead casual as he nods while listening to the next in line as beside him is a holographic display of a yellow menu, listing the name of options on the left side and the their prices on the right in black text, with options such as ‘OG JOHNS,’ ‘MEATY JOHNS,’ ‘NON-MEATY JOHNS,’ and others accompanied with the prices of ‘50,’ ‘75,’ ‘40.’

Comparatively to the day that has already passed, the time to move to the front of the line is practically instant, and once the two get to the head it’s just a matter of short requests and pointing to the menu followed by some shuffling of the man inside the truck before he hands each of them a tray with slanted walls for additional support.

Finally with the food they had planned to get about twelve hours ago now in their hands, both Dexter and Rica turn away from the line and begin down the plaza side by side, each of them holding a small rectangular silver tray each containing what looks to be a hot dog judging by the bread buns and sausage down the center, although while Dexter’s sausage is smooth and rather plain, Rica’s has a yellow tint with strange red spots and a red liquid strip down the top.

Glancing up at the night sky, Dexter sighs in dismay and mutters, “Damn…I could’ve had my lunch too…,” to which Rica sways towards him and assures blissfully, “I’m sure it won’t go bad, don’t worry about your salad.”

Moving his gaze to Rica next but with bemusement, he notes somewhat hesitantly, “But I…didn’t tell you what I ma-,”

“You say that like you’ve made anything else for the past twenty years Dex,” taunts Rica before she passes his pace, leaving him in another sigh.

Stunned by the unexpected strike, Dexter just blinks twice and mutters with a hint of insecurity, “I…make other meals too….”

He shakes his head in dismal to the jab below lowering it, his gaze moving down to the ground where lays a half-eaten hot dog covered in red sauce right below his left foot that’s in the process of completing its step, its destination straight in the center of the active landmine.

Immediately his eyes explode wide and he stumbles backwards to which Rica glances back in curiosity, although with one foot already in the air Dexter inadvertently throws himself off the ground, falling backwards hot dog in one hand and his other desperately held out which Rica instinctively reaches for with her own although at a distance magnitudes longer than their combined length or that is until an abrupt ray of radiating purple rings projects from her arm consuming her hand and reaching Dexter nearly instantly before the last ring stops a few inches short where through it extends the seemingly detached hand that grabs his before swiftly pulling him back thereby suspending him just long enough for him to ground himself behind the litter without having dropped his own food leading then to the retraction of the ringed ray back into Rica’s wrist, vanishing completely to reveal her hand again connected to her arm naturally.

All that action all happening instantaneously, Dexter is left stunned for a second before coming back to consciousness where he then dashes over the hot dog on the ground up to Rica, throwing his arms out as though to conceal her front from any witnesses while berating in a whisper, “Rica what are you doing??!”

Both perplexed but a little amused to by the exaggerated display of anxiety, Rica just giggles and assures, “Relax, nobody saw that and besides I wasn’t hurting anyone,” before she turns around and nonchalantly continues the final steps to the nearby globe bleachers, beginning up the white stairs with her hot dog tray also in her free hand.

More perplexed but also winded, Dexter shakes his head and continues forth before again insisting.

“Still, you could get in trouble if you do that in such a public place, I’m sure someone saw you what if-,” worries Dexter as Rica already has reached the top of the cloud staircase, leading her to turn around to face Dexter all the way back on the gray surface, still dressed in her navy blue blazer and skirt despite the long day of leisurely activities as Dexter too is dressed in his gray blazer and pants.

Staring down at her concerned companion, Rica only answers in a bright smile before she continues along the side and takes a seat on the long green bench but with enough space between her and the end for one other.

In the center of the eternal chatter and distant pod hums, the footsteps can only be heard by Rica due to the metallic clanging that enhances its presence like chains clashing, although still she faces forward carelessly with her small tray in her left hand in her gaze so with her right hand she can grab the buns from the back, lifting the hot dog above the tray and bringing it towards her open mouth which she clamps the other end with, biting off a piece both the bun and dog, some of the sauce catching onto her face by the mouth as she pulls it away when that awaited companion reaches the top of the staircase and sits beside her, patting his blazer to flatten any creases.

Instead of a rounded end there are now marks of a bite, the perpetrator exposed by the red sauce over her mouth which Dexter notices before without question raising his hand to and wiping, cleaning the sauce off her face with a swift stroke before bringing it back to his side which she has no reaction to, only again casually bringing the hot dog back to her for another bite.

Side by side the two sit at the edge of the white staircase, Rica holding her food in her hand and Dexter just staring down at his still inside the tray, lacking any of the vibrance of hers.

After a few moments of stillness from him and another bite of Rica’s dog, without the turn of a head Rica gently reassures, “Don’t worry Dex, I’ll be fine, I know it looks careless but trust me if you were one too you’d understand it’s really not that bad.”

After another few moments of the same stillness but from both of them, Dexter releases a heavy sigh and lowers his head more now to the floor beneath him before muttering, “I…okay….”

Under the moonlight of the starry night the two sit tight with in their hands their delight, for Dexter picks up his own and takes a bite as Rica keeps her gaze forward and recites, “So, I’d say today was a pretty bowed day! Got my winter suits, and hey I saved your ass back there in that meeting.”

Caught in the middle of chewing the bite he took, Dexter hastens his swallowing to impulsively argue, “Hey wait that’s a gross exaggeration of what happened!”

A smirk slits in Rica’s face before she sways backwards and razzes, “Hey you have nothing to feel ashamed about, I’ve been doing that for you since S.A.T freshman year, I was basically doing all your homework and whatnot!”

A swift turn away with the head and punctuated grunt, Dexter fights back with clear fatigue: “I think you got your memories mixed up.”

Swaying back again but holding her position to gaze up, Rica retorts back “God not already, I’m not that old” with a giggle while beside her Dexter takes another bite of his hotdog, not particularly focusing on the scenery as below him other pairs and groups of civilians sit with some of them also eating, although not all the same meal as one holds a large slice of pizza with two hands and another slurps down a thick purple liquid, only able to drink it through a straw poking out of the cup’s top.

Back to focus Rica lowers her head and takes another bite of her hot dog while Dexter just gazes forth blankly in silent reflection, only able to eventually answer with a brief yet subtly pained: “Yeah,” before taking another bite, now about halfway through his hotdog.

Those red eyes beside the ones tinted blue behind the lenses, the two just continue to eat in silence, the only ones on the top bench and thus given a degree of solitude even if there’s still mobs cluttering the plaza in their view.

Whereas only occasionally Rica takes short bites from her hotdog, it doesn’t take long for Dexter to take the last bite of his own, engulfing the whole meal in efficient time without a single spec of it on his face.

Another slow bite is taken by Rica and she casually munches on it while facing forward, as despite her cheery attitude below the veil she clearly too is drained of energy from the long day out.

Far ahead of the two who sit shoulders nearly in contact is the center of the plaza where the shield-shaped podium hovers, and at the far end of that very podium are the five grand golden statues despite being dulled with age. Each of the statues depicts a being with precise detailing, and each of them strike the same pose with their hands on their hips and their chests puffed out in an almost cartoonishly heroic stance.

Those statues depict a gracile woman in a tight body suit with decorational engraved curvy lines and long sleek hair, a lean man in what resembles a race suit with short hair, a developed woman in a sleeveless dress with a skirt of long flags majestic like her long thick hair, a robust man in solid armor with a bandolier slung over and unkempt long hair, and in the center a sinewy man in a slim suit but with a long cape, yet oddly the only one whose head is concealed by a hood and mask only leaving parallelogram-shaped goggles for where the eyes would be like the ones on the sculpted faces of all the other statues.

They all stare forward, coincidentally in the direction of the two sitting at the top of the bleachers, not reaching as high but still towering over the roamers on their same level.

Far in the distance gleaming blue waterfalls can be seen from blocks away leading up to the infinite sky, many of them in fact at steep angles, travelers approaching and departing.

Blissfully random Rica’s voice wonders, “Do you think he’s actually out there?”

After a pause to attempt an understanding but an attempt ultimately failed, Dexter’s voice seeks such clarification: “Who?”

“You know, ‘him,’ ‘the blue man,’ ‘the hero of Versepolis,’ Meditat,” to which Dexter finally turns his head to face her, a turn freakishly abrupt.

While Rica’s serene face tells of the continuation of the tranquil moment under the stars, that once shared feeling has been wiped clean off the face of the man beside her, his expression more haunting with stretched eyes and an artificially relaxed face, the stars in his irises just slightly brighter.

In a voice ridden of its former endearing enervation but instead spoken in a completely cold monotone, the man with the crimson tie asks again: “What about him?”

Blissful still to the change of half the mood, Rica sighs softly while her eyes remain on the stars in the sky past the horizon, elucidating in a tone almost nostalgically longing: “Well you know, I feel like Chipper’s been exploding with all those shots of the blue comet everywhere, it’s like I can’t scroll for ten seconds without seeing it. I mean yeah when the ceasefire was announced everyone went wild but…I don’t know…there was this sense of disbelief that never really got satisfied, and it feels like now it is even after all this time.”

As slowly the gray man’s world reddens, Rica continues to ponder out loud, “I mean now that we’ve actually seen him, I still have so many questions, like why only now has he appeared after all these years.”

Brighter those stars pulsate in the red void, but ignored they are in favor of Rica’s continued contemplation of “To think he’s actually here…I know they never did recover the body but…it still doesn’t feel real. But…I don’t know…the more I think about it the more I remember that while they didn’t recover his body, they recovered ‘theirs.’ Even if Meditat is still somewhere out there, the rest aren’t…and that must really suck for him….”

Confirmation of the fact flashes in the gray man’s head, flashes of the black headed sledgehammer powered by a red streak bolting straight into the back of the black silhouetted figure whose body lacks definition but its edges instead bleed in distortions and glitches, the straight black hair waving in the chaotic winds.

Followed by the flashes of the treadmill, its surface dark red, much of that red pouring from the gaping lower half of the body of another glitching black silhouette featureless but for the crimson stains dirtying the corpse.

Followed by the pouring of blood underneath the several black fingers, although fingers cut up along the joints with edges hot red, sizzling from the heat energy that caused the separation.

Followed by the silhouette of the man whose entire body from between the legs up the center of the head is impaled by the huge black stake, the blades still extended out from the wrists in eagerness for vengeance never obtained.

The statues of those four are now solidified in the golden crust, all beside the one in the middle still yet unmasked, but as the world grows redder the statues begin to start distorting too, the other four glitching into the void as the central one begins to animate, its head slowly raising up and its arms starting to reposition its hands off the hips as that voice echoes.

“I will incinerate every cell of your body.”

Infinitely that voice echoes, blending into itself with every next echo further perverting the voice into an unintelligible static, a static that causes the gray man to wince as more violently his body bleeds red glitches, his human form twisting and becoming less recognizable, pulsating like the heartbeat starting to wake.

“It must still hurt to lose those he was closest to from that invasion, they really were heroes, fighting until the very end,” gently reminisces Rica in utter oblivion to the chaotic glitching of the shadowy being beside her, the glitches morphing into red flames bursting out of the silhouette void, spreading like wildfire not just over the bleachers but over the whole world.

“I just hope he’s doing alright, whoever he is,” wishes Rica, the sole figure not cast in red, not unlike the black figure fully devoid of features. But while the figure itself lacks definition, the arms is fully consumed by a crimson blaze that sculpts more into its limbic shape, although still ablaze thus lacking total refinement.

The blazing constructs do begin to animate nonetheless, given the motions of human arms although more tense and hands tensely opened like claws, claws that are raised up with separation from the original black arms as if it has a mind of its own, a mind that gradually begins to move towards Rica, or more specifically the neck of Rica.

Red is the sky.

Red is the ground.

Red is the statue.

Red is the globe.

Red is the arm.

Red is the hand.

Red is the finger.

Red is the Devil.

Moving ever closer to the neck.

Towards the last of the world to be soaked.

But only inches away the clawed hands are from the throat.

And she still doesn’t notice.

She still doesn’t see the world in red.

She still doesn’t see the hands reaching her neck, ready to clasp down.

She still doesn’t know the hands intend to strangle her out to red.

White were the teeth of the smile worn on the pale face of the decrepit man whose hair was nothing but four straining locks, and yet more than ever those reflective azure eyes spoke of life even in its final moments before the overwhelming cyan backdrop.

Dim the red stars get back to their original state, and in a frown Dexter turns his head forward yet again before muttering softly in agreement beside Rica, “Yeah….”

At last the remainder of the hot dog is tossed into Rica’s mouth, small enough for her to take whole and only need a few seconds of leisurely chewing before she can completely swallow it, finishing her meal.

In a sudden burst of energy Rica yawns in a bellow and throws her arms up, causing some of the nightwatchers below to jump in fright, a disturbance unnoticed by the source before throwing the side of her head against Dexter’s shoulders, her arms dropping down limp, making the contact that isn’t even reacted to by the man, for not a muscle moves.

Shuffling her arms back to her side but leaving her head on the shoulders, Rica just gazes up and releases a delicate sigh before she notes more calmly, “Well it’s pretty late now, we should probably get out of here.”

She then just slightly shifts her head to angle her gaze closer to Dexter’s direction, although not fully, making somewhat lazy movements as they’re executed while rubbing her head against the shoulder.

In a tone softer, the softest it has been all day, she requests with her gaze still forward the same as his: “Hey Dex…could I come with you? We could perch around your apartment a little bit before I have to leave…just like old times…it’ll be fun….”

Immediately Dexter’s mouth opens to respond, but he instead holds himself back and pauses for a few seconds in contemplation before closing it and lowering his head, shifting his gaze away from the stars and back in the direction of the statues.

In a frown he lets out his own weary sigh and reluctantly answers, “Sorry but…I still have work to do, remember? Aaron? Maybe another time but…tonight I need to get back and focus on that.”

Next Rica frowns, her head tilting again but this time away from Dexter’s face before then angling downward before she too sighs but this one now of dismay. In a whisper she murmurs almost childishly, “You always have to work…you’ve never taken a break…. Work work work…you keep doing that and you’re going to die working. Why don’t you live a little…?”

Several moments of silence follow the uneasy question, both of their heads still and expressions unchanged, just contemplative with their thoughts contained in their own heads. The chattering outside feels like it tapers down, the hums becoming gentler, the world quieting for them to think in their own clarities.

In a starry gaze he can only answer, “I guess I just don’t get a retirement…that’s not what I was made for….”

At the top of the world, at the highest bench sits the two resting against each other, staring forth at the crowded plaza dense with people but for the memorial of the five statues, the one in the middle staring straight between the two heads, its hands on its hips and its chest puffed in front of its long cape, the only one who’s mask remains, the last of the five who stand together below the colossal silver towers covered in vibrant boards different in color and shape, some still images and others moving videos, but furthermore they stand below the white shine of the great Moon amongst the many smaller stars glittering the cosmos.

Up above was the black void.

Yet it was anything but empty.

For in actuality it was filled with the light and warmth of what sustained life.