The substation smelled of woodsmoke and searing fat. The Lynx meat was tough, stringy, and hissed as the grease dripped into the makeshift fire Ren had built from shattered subway ties. Ren didn't care about the texture. He ate with a frantic, desperate hunger, his movements jagged. Every swallow felt like he was patching the holes in his own battery. At 4/13 HP, his body wasn't just hungry; it was starving for the data-dense nutrients of a higher-level organism.

  Chloe, however, was eating with a surgical precision that bordered on the obsessive. She sliced small, neat strips of the charred feline meat, chewing slowly, her eyes fixed on the fire. She was already setting aside the largest, most succulent portions on a clean piece of scrap metal, wrapping them carefully for the morning.

  "You need to eat more than that," Ren grunted, wiping a smear of grease from his chin. "You’re Level 2 now. Your body is going to start demanding more fuel."

  "I’m fine," Chloe said softly, her eyes reflecting the dancing orange flames. "I want to make sure we have enough for breakfast. If I’m staying awake while you sleep during the day, I don't want to be distracted by a growling stomach. Besides..." She paused, looking at the dark tunnel beyond their golden circle. "Everything tastes like static lately. Do you feel that? Like there's a metallic hum on the back of your tongue every time you swallow?"

  Ren paused, his machete resting across his knees. "That’s the Flux, Chloe. It’s in the air, the water, and the meat. We aren't just eating animals anymore. We're eating the System."

  "It makes me miss the smoothies at the plaza," she admitted with a small, sad smile. "Even the ones that were mostly ice and sugar. They felt... clean."

  Ren looked at her, seeing the smudge of soot on her cheek and the new iron ring on her finger. The girl who ran track was fading, being replaced by someone sharper, harder. "Clean is a luxury we traded for 'alive.' Finish your portion. Then you’re going to sleep."

  "Ren—"

  "No arguments," he interrupted, his voice rasping but firm. "My schedule is flipped now. I stay awake during the night because the sun is a death sentence. You’re going to rest while I watch the dark. When the sun hits the ceiling hole, it'll be my turn to sleep, and you’ll be my eyes. That’s how we survive the next 3 days."

  Chloe sighed but didn't protest further. She finished her small strip of meat, curled up on a pile of salvaged tarps near the Monolith’s core, and within twenty minutes, her breathing had leveled into the rhythmic cadence of deep exhaustion.

  Ren sat alone in the golden hum. After dousing the small camp fire his thermal vision activated, his eyes turning into twin pits of indigo light. The world transformed. The cold walls of the tunnel were deep blue; the dying cinders were a roaring white-hot star.

  An hour passed in absolute silence. Then, a flicker of warmth appeared.

  Deep in the darkness of the Lexington line, perhaps fifty yards out, a shape was moving. It wasn't the jagged, multi-limbed heat signature of a monster. It was a smooth, upright blossom of orange and yellow. A human. Female build, slightly taller than Chloe, moving with a confident, rhythmic gait.

  Ren’s heart hammered against his ribs. He didn't reach for his machete first; he reached for Chloe. He slid his hand over her mouth and shook her shoulder gently.

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  "Don't make a sound," he whispered directly into her ear. "Someone’s coming. One target. Fifty yards out."

  Chloe’s eyes snapped open, instantly wide and alert. She didn't panic. She reached for the hilt of her flame sword, her "Twitch" beginning to throb with a low, steady pulse.

  "How many?" Chloe whispered, her voice a ghost of a sound.

  Suddenly, an echoing voice boomed through the tunnel, vibrating off the rusted steel pillars. It was raspy, melodic, and entirely too loud for someone trying to sneak up on on a person.

  "Easy there, Lexington! No need to wake the neighbors," the voice hollered. "I’m unarmed, I’m hungry, and I’m definitely not looking for a blade in the gut!"

  Ren froze. He looked at the figure in his thermal vision. She was still forty yards away. There was no way she should have heard them.

  "How many can you see?" Chloe whispered again, her lips barely moving.

  "Just one," the voice echoed back instantly, playful and sharp. "And she’s got a real bad craving for whatever smells that good. Relax, kid. I'm a solo act tonight."

  Confusion washed over Ren. He stared into the darkness, his brow furrowing. He leaned closer to Chloe, his voice a mere vibration in the air, his lips tucked against her hair. "Can she hear us whisper?"

  "Yes, I can," the voice replied, closer now. "And I can hear your heart racing, too. Sounds like a drum and bass track. You might want to breathe, pal. You’re gonna pop a lung."

  The figure finally stepped into the outermost reach of the Monolith’s golden glow. She was dressed in a worn denim vest over a black hoodie, her hair a messy shock of dark curls tied back with a piece of wire. Slung over her shoulder was a heavy, lead-weighted mic stand that she used like a walking staff. She had a lopsided grin and eyes that seemed to dance with a strange, frantic intelligence.

  This was Mel.

  "Stunning place you got here," Mel said, stopping exactly three feet outside the golden boundary. She didn't try to cross. She simply leaned on her mic stand and took a deep, theatrical sniff of the air. "Mmm, monster meat. A bit gamey, but beggars can’t be choosers, right? Look, I’m not looking for a permanent lease on your golden machine. I just haven't eaten in two days, and my stomach is starting to complain louder than my bass amp."

  Ren stood up, his machete finally in his hand, though he kept the tip down. He thought about the meat Chloe had carefully wrapped for the morning. If they gave it away, Chloe would be hungry during her shift. In the new world, a hungry sentry was a dead sentry.

  "We don't have enough to share," Ren said coldly. "Move on."

  "Oof. Harsh," Mel laughed, not looking offended at all. "But I’m a professional, Lexington. I don't ask for handouts. I trade. I’ve got something you haven't seen since the world went to hell, and I’m willing to part with it for a piece of that monster and a little bit of conversation."

  She reached into her oversized hoodie pocket and pulled out a small, plastic-wrapped six-pack of cans. They looked cold and dented through Ren's thermal vision, but to Chloe, the red and white logo was unmistakable.

  "Real, Old-World soda," Mel said, winking at Chloe. "Still got the carbonation. Still got the sugar. And it’s cold, thanks to a little 'refrigeration' trick I picked up. What do you say? One can per person, plus the rest of the pack for the road, in exchange for food and a seat near the light?"

  Chloe’s eyes went wide. She looked at the red cans, then up at Ren. She didn't say a word, but her expression was one of pure, unadulterated longing. It was the first time Ren had seen her look like a teenager again.

  Ren rolled his eyes, the cold knot in his chest loosening just a fraction. "Throw the cans first. If they’re real, you get the meat."

  Mel didn't hesitate. She tossed the six-pack through the air. It landed with a heavy thud on the concrete inside the golden circle. Ren checked them—they were heavy, sealed, and incredibly cold to the touch.

  "Deal," Ren grunted.

  He picked up the wrapped meat Chloe had saved and tossed it across the line. Mel caught it with one hand, a look of pure triumph on her face. She didn't try to enter the Monolith. Instead, she sat down cross-legged on the cold subway floor, just inches outside the gold boundary, and began to eat with a focused, messy joy.

  Ren sat back down, watching her with a deep, gnawing suspicion. This was the New World. People didn't just walk up and offer soda out of the goodness of their hearts.

  "What's the catch?" Ren asked, his eyes never leaving her.

  Mel swallowed a large bite of meat and let out a satisfied sigh. "No catch, Lexington. I'm just a scavenger who’s tired of talking to myself. I’ve been trailing you two since the surface. Saw the level-up light. Figured anyone that bright was either very stupid or very strong. Since you're still alive, I'm betting on strong."

  Chloe, meanwhile, had already cracked open a can. The psshhh of the escaping carbonation was the most beautiful sound Chloe had heard in weeks. She took a long, slow sip, her eyes closing as the sugar hit her system.

  "It's... it's amazing," Chloe whispered, leaning against Ren’s shoulder.

  Ren watched the stranger eat, the cold soda in his own hand feeling like a bizarre relic. He was questioning everything. He had just let a stranger find their base. He had traded their survival food for sugar. But as he looked at Chloe—who finally looked relaxed for the first time since the Integration—he found he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

  "Don't get too comfortable," Ren warned Mel. "The Monolith War starts in three days. If you're here to scout for a group, you're going to leave disappointed."

  Mel looked up, her expression suddenly turning somber in the golden light. "Scout? Pal, I’m the only one left of my set. The other groups... they aren't looking to scout. They’re looking to harvest." She took a sip of her own soda, looking out into the dark tunnel. "And they're closer than you think."