Zoe was downing her sixth shot of whiskey when her phone vibrated against the scarred wood of the bar. The thing didn’t fit comfortably in her nearly skin tight jeans, and she hadn’t often bothered with a purse now that she had her extra-dimensional Inventory. Savoring the burn sliding down her throat, she initially tried to ignore the rattling buzz.

  The dive bar was exactly what she wanted on a night like this: dim lighting, classic rock on the jukebox, and a bartender who had stopped trying to make small talk after the second drink. The local talent pool wasn’t much to speak of. The elder Gen X bartender had a potbelly beneath his faded AC/DC, Back in Black tour shirt. A couple of weathered middle-aged construction workers throwing back a beer before tottering home to their families. At least none of them were gingers, that might have made it a little too easy for her to down half a bottle of something, squint her eyes, tilt her head to the side, and just pretend for the night.

  A group of townies about her age were just arriving as her phone chirped from an incoming text. While none of the scruffy dudes did much for her, she felt her gaze drawn to a heavily tattooed girl with vibrant red curls that might have been derived more from a bottle than DNA. As the group wound their way toward the pool tables in the back, she and the redhead caught eyes. Zoe wasn’t—generally speaking—into other girls, but maybe after a couple more…

  Another incoming call caused her phone buzzed again. Persistent little bastard. That couldn’t be good. Reluctantly flipping it over, she saw the screen displayed Delta's contact info. Just to annoy him she’d made his contact picture a photo she’d taken of a plastic Easter egg across which she’d written in marker, ASSHOLE. She considered letting it go to voicemail, but Delta knew better than to pester her on a night out.

  "Fuck," Zoe muttered. Sighing, she swiped to answer and pressed the phone to her ear. "What?"

  "Paladin Zoe." Delta's voice was clipped, urgent. "Paladin Eden has discovered what I believe to be Earth's first wild dungeon. At least two civilians appear to have entered it, likely unwillingly. Despite my urging her to wait, she is preparing to follow. Estimated travel time at your current flight speed: nineteen minutes."

  As the words rushed at her over the little speaker, Zoe straightened on her barstool, the pleasant buzz she’d been building toward evaporated as her Accelerated Healing kicked into overdrive in time with her spiked heart rate. "A wild dungeon? You mean a little monster filled pocket world, like you told us about?"

  "Correct. This is a significant escalation to Earth’s aetheric situation. Wild dungeons on low-aether worlds like Earth typically require years to form. The fact that one has appeared already suggests the Corruption's influence is stronger than anticipated."

  "Oh, hell yeah." Rising, Zoe tossed a wad of crumpled cash on the bar. The bartender glanced up, but she was already headed for the door. "Keep the change!"

  Phone still pressed to her ear. "What about Pablo and Sasha? Warren?"

  "Judging by their phone data, Paladins Pablo and Sasha are closest, but haven’t yet answered. I have also been unable to contact your sibling."

  "Of course." Zoe shoved through the door into the cool night air, scanning the empty parking lot for unwanted eyes. “Did you send Warren a HUD message?”

  “Several, but with no response.”

  "Fuck. Alright, send me the coordinates."

  "Transmitted."

  Activating her Nexus interface’s Heads-Up-Display, HUD, various read outs appeared floating in her vision. Aside from her Health and Aetheric Energy read out bars, she’d added a compass display to the bottom of her vision along with altitude, wind speed, and an artificial horizon bubble. A small glowing blue waypoint icon also appeared at the corner of her vision. She turned until it was roughly centered in her vision.

  "Got it. I'm launching now."

  Zoe ended the call and slid her phone into her snug back pocket. She took a deep breath to center herself and felt the last of the booze already metabolizing as she summoned Gale from her Inventory. The kukri materialized in her hand, solid and reassuring. She wouldn’t call her armor unless she absolutely needed it. Flying at high speed without the armor's protection was uncomfortable, but bearable. More importantly, it conserved her armor’s charge for the dungeon.

  Gathering the wind beneath her feet, she launched into the night sky on a howling current of air. The ascent was smooth and controlled, but still sent a thrill of exhilaration through her. With the the aid of her HUD, Zoe angled south-southwest, toward Napa. Willing her Air Aspected Aetheric Energy to flow she urged the winds carrying her to strengthen. Air rushed past her face, whipping her ponytail like a banner. Concentrating through Gale, she formed an aerodynamic shield of compressed air in front of her, deflecting the worst of the drag and keeping her vision clear.

  Flying like this still usually felt joyous to Zoe—even after four months—but tonight there was no time to enjoy it. Eden was about to walk into the first wild dungeon. Civilians were in danger. There was a real fight to be had, not just a training sim.

  And Warren is ignoring his phone and HUD messages. Same old Warren, Zoe thought bitterly.

  Below, the lights of Redding blurred away, replaced by darkened highways and dark patches of forest and rolling grassy hills. She pushed her speed higher. Soon she was at 400 mph, then creeping up to 450, skirting the edge of what was safe without her armor. Even with her Air Shield the night air was cold enough to sting. Nineteen minutes. She could make it in fifteen if she pushed. Zoe tensed her muscles, streamlining her body, and flew faster.

  ***

  "I'm just saying," Pablo said as they walked through the restaurant's front door into the cool Napa evening, "that the Thrawn Trilogy deserves more respect from the House of Mouse. They cherry-picked elements without understanding what made it work."

  “You're being a purist.” Sasha rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "They couldn't adapt everything from the Expanded Universe. The shows and movies have to stand on their own, for a different kind of audience. That’s what happens with adaptations."

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  "Stand on their own? They didn't even—" Pablo stopped himself, taking a breath. "Okay, I'm getting worked up about thirty-year-old novels. Sorry."

  Pablo tugged at the collar of his button-down—one of the nicer shirts he owned, dark blue that brought out the amber tones in his brown eyes, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He'd even tamed his thick black hair into something resembling intentional waves instead of its usual tousled chaos. Sasha had dressed up too, trading her usual athletic wear for dark jeans and a forest green blouse that complemented her glowing, golden-brown skin. She'd styled her natural hair in a high puff that added to her already impressive 5'8" frame, making Pablo grateful he'd worn shoes with any kind of sole.

  "Don't apologize." Sasha bumped her shoulder against his as they crossed the parking lot toward his truck. "It's cute when you get passionate about stuff. Besides, I know what’s really going on."

  Pablo's heart did a small flip. Four months of dating, and she still made him feel like a nervous teenager with a single offhand comment. “You do?”

  “You’re just upset Mara Jade hasn’t made an appearance yet.”

  “Well, I mean,” Pablo felt his cheeks warm with a flush. “She’s a big part of Luke’s EU character.”

  “Uh huh, that’s it.” Sasha’s sly smile told him that she didn’t have a problem with his lingering nerd-crush. “How’d you like dinner?”

  “It was great.”

  Grind & Vine had been Sasha's choice—a newer place in downtown Napa that tried to split the difference between wine bar and gastropub. Exposed brick, string lights, a menu that featured both craft cocktails and gourmet grilled cheese. The kind of spot where twenty-somethings could feel sophisticated without breaking the bank. They'd shared a bottle of Zinfandel, traded bites of each other's entrees, and fallen into the still occasionally faltering rhythm of conversation. At first it had been team dynamics, Delta's increasingly cranky demands, concerns about how Zoe was coping or not, and then the tried-and-true avenue of discussing something exceedingly nerdy.

  Now, walking through the dimly lit parking garage toward his old F-150, Pablo felt the pleasant buzz of wine and good company. The kind of night where everything felt possible. He could almost pretend he hadn’t had to dip out part way through the dinner to send Eden a hurried text for encouragement.

  "Look," Sasha continued, picking up the thread of their argument with a mischievous glint in her eye, "that if you're going to complain about screen canon versus Legends, you need to have a consistent framework for—"

  "Oh, I need a consistent framework?" Pablo turned to face her, walking backwards. "You're the one who said you liked the sequel trilogy but also complained that they didn't—"

  "—I said I liked parts of it."

  "Which parts? Because you've told me three different—"

  Turning, Sasha grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him toward her, cutting off the pedantic argument with a kiss. Pablo's brain short-circuited for an instant. Then he was kissing her back, one hand finding the small of her back, his olive-skinned fingers splaying against the soft green fabric of her blouse, feeling the defined curve of her waist. His other hand came up to cup her jaw, his thumb brushing against her smooth, radiant skin. They'd kissed before—plenty of times over the past few months—but it still felt new every time. Still sent electricity down his spine and made him forget about the self-conscious way he'd been running his fingers through his hair all night.

  They'd drifted into a shadowed alcove between two SUVs, away from the garage's overhead lights. He pressed Sasha's back against a concrete pillar, Pablo's hand sliding up to tangle in her dark hair—

  A man screamed. The sound cut through the parking garage like a knife—raw, terrified, abruptly choked off. Pablo and Sasha broke apart instantly, their still shiny new Paladin instincts overriding everything else.

  "That came from—" Sasha was already moving, her athletic frame stretching out with long strides as she raced toward the sound.

  "—Lower level," Pablo finished, charging after her.

  They pounded down the garage's exit ramp, their footsteps echoing off concrete. Pablo's enhanced senses painted a picture through the metal around them—car frames, support beams, the rebar in the walls. They rounded the corner onto the lower level and Pablo's stomach dropped.

  An older couple—sixties, maybe early seventies—were pressed against a minivan, surrounded by four creatures that definitely weren't native to Earth. Pablo's first impression was raptors, but that wasn't quite right.

  The creatures were roughly humanoid, standing maybe five feet tall on digitigrade legs that ended in bare feet with wickedly curved claws. Their arms were human proportioned, their hands had four clawed digits, including opposable thumbs. Their lean, well-muscled bodies were covered in mottled brown and gray fur and not much else. Long snouts filled with serrated teeth, and eyes that gleamed with predatory intelligence. They moved with disturbing coordination, circling the couple like a wolf pack, one lunging in to snap at the man's leg while another feinted at the woman's face.

  The man was bleeding from a gash on his forearm, trying to shield the woman with his body. She clutched a purse like a weapon, her face pale with terror.

  "Hey, Ass-butts!" Pablo shouted, his voice echoing through the garage. "Get away from them!"

  Four furry but also reptilian heads snapped toward him and Sasha in unison.

  Without thinking, Pablo mentally reached into his Inventory and summoned Razor. The straight double-edged longsword materialized in his hand, its familiar weight settling into his grip like an old friend. The presence of cold metal enveloped his mind, dampening his exhilaration and fear under a leaden blanket of calm. Beside him, Sasha summoned Bedrock, the massive warhammer appeared in her hands in a flash of orange light.

  The creatures hissed—a sibilant, clicking sound that despite Razor’s influence raised the hair on Pablo's neck. Then the monsters charged and Pablo's mind shifted into combat mode, his Nexus downloaded tactical knowledge merging with months of real physical training. He focused on the lead creature and activated his newest ability, Inspect. Text materialized in his vision, floating above the creature's head like in a video game:

  RAPTOR-HOUND

  Health: 100%

  The yellow-bordered health bar appeared below the text, filled completely. As Pablo's eyes flicked to the other three creatures, the Inspect information populated automatically for each one—all Raptor-Hounds, all at full health, all rated as moderate threats.

  We can handle this, he told himself.

  Pablo stepped forward to meet the lead Raptor-Hound, Razor already moving in a defensive arc. The creature was fast—faster than the revenants they'd fought at the lake—but Pablo had been training with Zoe. He read the feint in its shoulder, pivoted inside its lunge, and brought Razor across in a precise and efficient slash that opened its flank.

  The Raptor-Hound shrieked and stumbled. Pablo watched its health bar drop to 73%. Not a killing blow, but enough to make it cautious. Two more of the monsters came at him from different angles, trying to flank. Pablo gave ground deliberately, drawing them away from the civilians and toward Sasha. In his peripheral vision, he saw her engage the fourth creature with brutal efficiency—Bedrock's head caught it mid-leap and sent it crashing into a parked sedan hard enough to crumple the door.

  The two civilians were screaming. Pablo couldn't spare the attention to calm them, not yet. He blocked a slash from the left Raptor-Hound, metal vibrating as its claws scraped against Razor's blade, then used the momentum to spin into a pommel strike that caught the one on his right in its snout. Bone crunched. Blood sprayed, black and viscous. Its health bar dropped to 58%.

  Behind him, he heard the crunch of Sasha's hammer connecting, the shriek of another Raptor-Hound being injured. He and Sasha were winning. These things were dangerous, but not overwhelmingly so. With their weapons and training—

  Thwip.

  Something whistled through the air. Pablo Metal Sense felt it more than he saw or heard it—a crossbow bolt. His mind automatically traced by the iron in its tip. His metal sense screamed a warning a split second before impact. He twisted, bringing Razor up on pure instinct. The bolt deflected off the flat of his blade with a sharp ping, ricocheting into the concrete wall.

  "Sasha! Ranged attackers!"