Kevin held a knife in his left hand, pistol in his right, slicing through the damn black prison pit. Mallow trailed close, twitchy but zipped up for once. Moving through that place was a damn nightmare—power out, corridors black as death, choking and frigid.

  Mallow clutched the shovel his teacher handed him—basic as hell, but a walker-killer: skull-smashing, throat-jabbing, limb-snapping. Plus, that reach kept him out of biting range.

  As they crept through the prison, Mallow clocked the open cell doors—dead prisoners slumped out front, hands tied, eyes wrapped tight.

  “Boss… what the hell’s this?” Mallow whispered, voice shaky as hell.

  “Guards smoked ‘em when shit went south,” Kevin said, voice cold as hell.

  “Those guards were brutal!” Mallow yelped, panic spiking. Used to kicking back at home, the sight of corpses rattled him bad.

  “Where we headed?” Mallow asked, edging closer to Kevin.

  “Generator room,” Kevin answered, not even glancing back.

  “But it’s busted, right?” Mallow pressed, recalling the setup. “What’s the point?”

  “I’m asking you—what’s ‘Clear Zone D’ mean?” Kevin shot back.

  “Kill every walker,” Mallow said quick. “No walkers left, we’re golden.”

  “But they’re all over, hiding in the dark,” Kevin pointed out. “Tracking ‘em all down could take ages.”

  “Big joint, no lights, dead quiet. We’d have to hit every room. Even busting our tails till dark, we might miss some, and time’s ticking.”

  “Don’t freak—I’ll drag those walkers to us,” Kevin said, smirking like he ran this shithole.

  “That alarm trick from the story? Luring ‘em with noise?” Mallow’s eyes lit up, then faded fast. “But boss, won’t that just pull every damn one to the speaker outside? It’s just us two—how we taking ‘em all?”

  Kevin chuckled, cool as ice. “Chill, man. I already snagged the speaker and stashed it in my Spatial Sigil. You can hide stuff there if it ain’t too huge.”

  “Don’t stress the walkers,” Kevin added, leaning in. “Marissa already cut their numbers, dragging a bunch to the vehicle camp last night. Zone D’s even lighter—story characters plugged the gaps. Omnispace ain’t sending us to die. Plus, this prison’s setup? We’re gaming it.”

  “But boss, we got another snag. Neither of us knows jack about wiring. How the hell we fixing that generator?”

  “Think about that dude in the story who patched the generator,” Kevin said, eyes sharp. “He drew a mess of walkers to the prison, then sliced the fence open. That’s what took out Lorrah and half the crew—big damn twist. Omnispace ain’t tossing us a death trap. So, I’m betting the generator room’s got spare parts and a manual stashed somewhere.”

  Mallow nodded hard. “Yeah, that tracks! I’m with the right guy, no doubt. I remember that bit—how’d I not clock this move?”

  Kevin and Mallow pushed through the prison’s gloom, daylight outside but pitch-black inside. The cells felt like midnight had crashed in. Walkers love the dark—noses and ears sharper than human senses, beefed up at night, making ‘em nastier in this hole.

  Kevin picked off walkers from range with clean shots, flipping to his knife when they got too close to dodge. Mallow waved a flashlight to light Kevin’s way, swinging his shovel at stragglers. Kevin said close-up kills racked up more points, so Mallow leaned hard into the shovel. Their teamwork sucked at first, but they got tighter clearing the cells.

  ***

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  Mallow booted the door wide, exposing three walkers in guard gear. Bam! He smashed his shovel into the nearest one’s skull. Another lunged at him, but Kevin popped it clean between the eyes. Kevin tackled the third, slamming it down, then jammed his knife through its head.

  Wiping sweat off his face, Mallow panted, “Boss, this the generator room?”

  Kevin scoped the place. “Stay sharp—keep your eyes open for walkers. They could be lurking in the shadows.”

  Mallow nodded, then hustled over to a walker and frisked its pockets. Jackpot! He grinned wide, yanking out a light green key that glowed soft in the murk—nothing like the usual white ones.

  Kevin and Mallow scoped the key up close. Mallow passed it over, “Here you go, boss.”

  “You nabbed it, you pop it open,” Kevin shot back.

  “Nah, boss, you’re the head honcho—you handle it,” Mallow pushed.

  “We’re a crew, so it’s fifty-fifty. That’s the deal,” Kevin said, tone hard as nails.

  Mallow’s brain spun, flashing back to what other newbies had spilled. Razor Hawk’s posse? Boss hogged the lion’s share, tossing crumbs to the rest. Marissa’s squad was the same—she even shook down solo runners for a slice. Sally? Fifty-fifty, sure, but it was half for her, half split among the grunts.

  Kevin, his boss, was laying out a square deal. Mallow, just some regular joe on the team, felt a twinge of heat in his cheeks.

  “Boss, I’m real grateful you’re playing fair,” Mallow mumbled, tripping over his words. “But look, if you think I earned it, take 60—I’ll grab 40. Or screw the split altogether. This even-steven deal won’t hold up forever.”

  Kevin caught Mallow’s honest vibe and gave a quick nod to the 60-40 split.

  Mallow’s shaky hands turned the key. A green flash lit the room as he yanked a pair of glowing green boots from the portal. Kevin and Mallow were hyped as hell, eyes locked on the boots while they checked ‘em out.

  Feather Boots:

  Backstory: Speedy Gonzales, a slick thief from Silverymoon City, was known for outrunning everybody. He’d swipe loot and taunt the chasers with a cocky “Catch me if you can!” Till he jacked the mayor’s necklace—guards nabbed him, stripped his boots, and cracked the speed secret.

  Weight: 3 lbs

  Effects: Agility +2, movement speed +30%, evasion +5%

  The Feather Boots looked solid and handy, probably worth a fat stack. Snagging a light green key off a random walker was already a score, but popping it open for rare green gear? Pure dumb luck.

  Splitting the haul was a mess. Kevin and Mallow, both greenhorns in Omnispace, hadn’t hit HQ yet, so they were clueless on the boots’ real price. Mallow pitched Kevin taking ‘em first, checking the value at HQ, then sliding him 40% later. Kevin, big-hearted as ever, waved it off and shot 2,000 survival points to Mallow instead.

  Mallow’s eyes bugged out. “Boss, you’re a damn lifesaver! Newbie trial’s kicking my ass, and I ain’t spent a point yet—barely scraped up under 200. You’re the real deal!”

  Kevin spat a laugh, cool as fuck. “Those boots are worth some serious shit, and 2,000 points might not even hit 40% of it. We’ll scope the real number at Omnispace HQ and square it up then.”

  Mallow shook his head. “No way, man, survival points ain’t cheap. Regular walker’s just 2 points, 3 if you bash ‘em up close. Sure, they’re weaker than us newbies, but they’ll still mess you up. These 2,000 points? That’s 1,000 walker kills—worth way more than 40% of them boots.”

  Kevin slapped Mallow’s shoulder and scooped up the Feather Boots.

  Once he slipped ‘em on, his legs felt light as hell, speed jacked up 30%. These boots were gold—2 Agility, 5% Evasion, perfect for scrapping up close or popping shots from range. Stats that good screamed they were worth a helluva lot more than they’d figured.

  Mallow waved a booklet, eyes popping. “Boss, get a load of this!”

  Kevin hustled over, finding Mallow buzzing like a kid. He held up a ragged manual—The Generator Repair Guide!

  They kept digging and hit a room stacked with spare parts. Mallow froze, jaw dropped—they had all the gear to fix the generator!

  Mallow hollered, “Boss, you’re a damn genius! How’d you piece this together?”

  Kevin chuckled. “Alright, you tell me—where we at?”

  “The prison, duh.”

  “And what’s a prison gotta do?”

  “Keep the bad guys locked up, no shit.”

  “Spot on,” Kevin said, cool and sure. “Think it through. Prisons need juice for everything—cell blocks to cage the inmates, fences to trap ‘em, floodlights for night, radios for when it hits the fan. Most U.S. joints got laws saying backup generators are a must. So even if we miss parts here, another power stash is probably kicking around.”

  Mallow couldn’t peel his eyes off Kevin. Guy was sharp as hell, no denying it.

  “Quit staring like a dumbass,” Kevin laughed. “It’s just street smarts. But before we mess with the generator, we gotta set some shit up first.”