A/N: So, I'm in English class on an iPad trying to upload this thingy for you all. Not much to say. Enjoy the chappie.

City: H-405

Chapter 10: Lady Priscilla, the Asmodeus Goddess

Anchorage, Alaska.

From what Cynthia could remember, the place was supposed to be icy cold nine months out of the year and endlessly sunny the other three. What she met was a bit off the mark: the radiation had changed the earth's geospheric structure, and as such it was cold. Not just the standard thirty-below Anchorage typically hit, no. She shivered inside her insulated suit and had to double-check that her thermostat wasn't lying to her. If the temperature was correct, she would die of frostbite after two minutes in the biting temperature. Eighty-five-below was nothing to take lightly, and she noted a light chill permeating the mesh fabric; even with futuristic heat-management technology, the regulator coils still couldn't provide enough insulation against the cold.

"If it were any colder, it'd be raining sheets of ice," she muttered darkly.

"If it were any colder, the glass would crack," James commented dully.

They gazed at the glass bubble as they sat atop their respective crafts, having disengaged them from engine-based flight nearly thirty miles from the city.

"It's not safe out here."

"Whatever used to live out here won't have survived. It's safer out here than it is in there."

Cynthia watched as he dismounted his craft and stepped across the icy ground. He stopped and stomped one foot, making a noise over the link.

"The ice is at least six feet thick. Possibly more toward eight or nine, if I had to guess."

He stepped right up to the glass bubble and rested his gloved hand against it, standing still for a moment. He then turned and remounted his craft, pushing it to a gliding pace off toward their left. Cynthia mimicked him without comment, knowing all would become clear momentarily.

Without warning, he stopped and disembarked. Cynthia nearly ran him over and thanked some unseen power that there wasn't a snowstorm or worse roiling about to obscure her vision. Other than the crushing blackness and the red light of her radar, all was clear through her visor.

James crouched and touched the ice carefully, pressing against key areas until he seemed to find what he needed. He then drew the welding torch from within the hypercube, taking care to let the pressurized tanks remain within. He fired the torch until it ignited, then tuned the flame to a bright piercing blue before holding it to the ice.

Using what could only be perceived as a controlled burn rate, the ice began to liquefy and evaporate under the intense heat. A cylinder began to cut its way straight down, and James went with it in a sinking pool of ice water. Cynthia watched as he slowly lowered beneath the surface of the ice and listened intently to her link until she heard a light exhalation on his end.

"Found the bottom?"

"Jump through. This is how we're getting back out, too."

She leapt from the silent craft and straight down the hole, bracing for a gentle impact. James stood before a massive steel door hidden within a tunnel carved in the ice.

"Pressurized airlock," he commented.

The door clunked under the sudden change in temperature, having previously been located in an icy tunnel at least six feet below the surface they'd been scouring. Behind her, Cynthia registered a tunnel carved into the ice, though how far it went was beyond her. Shockingly, there was dirt underfoot, though it was frozen and crackled as they walked.

The door clunked again. James paused.

"I wonder what sort of lock mechanism it has. We don't want to ruin the integrity of the door; this airlock is the only thing keeping the inside warmth away from this temperature."

"James, it's almost minus one hundred down here under the ice. I don't think the inside would stand a chance if it were exposed to this temperature."

"The bubble would probably implode, to say the least."

He stepped right up to the massive door, looking for all the world like a bank teller trying to access the main vault at the rear of the facility. He stared intently at the housing, though Cynthia had no idea what he was checking for. As if he'd interpreted her confusion, he snapped his fingers. The noise was sudden, startling, and loud given the gloves covering his hands.

"Vernacular."

"What?"

"The door. It only opens when presented the proper vernacular."

"…You mean to tell me it's voice-activated?"

"Precisely."

"So what sort of word or phrase does it respond to?"

"That would be what we're here to figure out."

"James, we can't just stand out here and freeze. If it gets any colder out here, I don't think our suits will be able to handle the thermal regulation and we'll end up human popsicles. I'm not sure about you and your philosophy, but I didn't spend three years here on this godforsaken soil just to be frozen to death before I could get back home to my life."

The man pushed his palm to the door, lowering his head slightly. He then slipped his hand into the maw of the hypercube and drew out the antenna Alpha had created, planting it on the side of his helmet.

"Alpha, it's Neptune. Sorry we've been out of communication for so long; we haven't exactly had time to talk and relay our location and such. We're at Anchorage, standing under six feet of ice in minus one hundred degree temperature staring at a voice-activated door. Anything you can do to help get this thing open? Without my electronic diagnosis equipment, I can't do anything short of shouting random phrases at the door."

He stood still for a moment, leaning against the door. Cynthia cursed at her thermometer, watching as the temperature continued to drop as they stood motionless beneath the ice. She could feel the cold beginning to creep over her hands and feet as the suit shifted its heat regulation properties toward her core and away from her extremities.

"Alright. How will I know when you've got it?"

He listened for another moment before popping the antenna from his helmet and mounting it to the door. He stepped back before falling onto his back and gazing up at the top of the ice tunnel.

"So?"

"We wait. There isn't anything we can do until he cracks the code. Until then, curl up and try to stay warm."

He lay spread-eagle on the ground, totally ignoring his own advice at staying warm. Cynthia curled into a ball and shielded her hands between her knees and her chest, hoping her fingers wouldn't freeze off; if they did, wielding a sword would become ten times more complicated. She lacked the mental concentration James possessed and would have no idea how to even begin controlling her swords telepathically. She'd only barely gotten ahold of the basics; the more intimate points of swordplay were still Greek to her, even with t'ai chi and karate training. No jiu jitsu, no muay thai, no training of any kind could prepare her for using a sword, for she'd neglected to study any form of martial art incorporating the need to use a weapon of any kind. Hell, even fencing would have given her a fighting chance at using a sword.

The door thumped rather loudly. James stood without moving his arms or legs, shifting smoothly from laying to standing with no transitional movement in between. He strode to the massive door and tugged the antenna free. "Good?"

He chuckled over the line. "Excellent. Stick with me. I'll probably need some form of ordinance until I get to the leader of this city."

He wedged his fingers into the side of the door and tugged once, pulling the door open on surprisingly well-lubricated hinges. The hunk of metal had to have been at least a foot thick, definitely blast and weather-proof. The duo stepped into the small glass-encased chamber and slid the door shut, listening as it locked with a satisfying clunk. The chamber filled with a misty blue gas that wafted about them and had no smell that the filters would permit to enter their lungs. After a short moment, a tone rang and the door across the way opened, permitting them entrance to the encapsulated city.

Without a second of hesitation, James ran forward, using the mist for cover, and vaulted onto the roof of a nearby house. Cynthia mimicked him, following him deftly over the myriad of roofs, staying as silent and loose as possible to prevent any sort of impact noise from reaching the possibly sleeping inhabitants below. Only sparsely-grown streetlamps lit the avenues as they set about roof-hopping toward the center of the bubble, where a cluster of commercial buildings rose like many pointed spires arching toward the freedom of the outside air. To breach the bubble would be suicide, but the columns tried their damnedest, and with mirrored earnest the two silent assassins scaled one of the outer buildings, working their way up progressively taller structures until they found the tallest of the cluster, one that looked like a needle aimed directly toward the top dead center of the glass infrastructure.

"Blueprints, Alpha."

They stood motionless atop the second tallest building of the group, eying the tallest one a mere thirty feet before them. Cynthia gazed over the edge of the building and blinked. She doubted the suit had enough counteractive reflex technology to save her from a fall at their present height, and her resolve strengthened. She hadn't come so far just to fail and land in a broken pile of misery and ruin.

"Got it."

James backed up several steps, then took a running leap at the building. He seemed to vanish into the steel-and-glass composition.

"It's a projected wall. This building used to have a helicopter landing pad right where I'm standing."

Cynthia followed his lead, and just as she braced herself to splat against the girders like a bug on a windshield, she fell through the false curtain and landed on the concrete pad below, the giant H greeting her somewhat suddenly. She stood up and dusted herself off, drawing her sword and nodding once at James. He pressed a button on the nearby elevator control box. As though they were being welcomed, the doors slid open with a quiet ding.

"Something's not right. This is too easy. Shouldn't the city's defenses be kicking in to rebel against us?"

"This is a test, Cynthia. See if you can answer the question as you go."

He smashed a panel off the top of the elevator, hauling himself atop the carriage. Cynthia mimicked him, watching as he wrapped a hand confidently around one of the reinforced cables.

"Grab on."

She followed suit and he slashed the rigging just below their hands, but neither cart nor human moved.

"What?"

He chuckled. "The carriage is Styrofoam. We don't drop because we're standing on it. It doesn't drop because we're holding it up."

"So how do we do this?"

He dismounted. "You climb up since you're lighter. I'll hold the rope in place. When you get to the top, pull hard."

She swung hand-over-hand, not bothering to ask why she had to be the one to scale the rope. She knew that if his weight left the craft and climbed upward, they'd both crash downward to a bloody death below.

The task was boring and dark, though the night vision lens provided all the sight Cynthia needed. She reached the top within a matter of moments, then swung over to the steel elevator doors. With superhuman strength, she began lugging the mass of man and foam upward, digging and tugging and pulling as she braced herself against the door's threshold for balance. Before long, James's helmet came into view.

"Be on your guard. Alpha says this door leads to the leader's private room."

James leapt from the carriage and wedged his sword into the doorjamb. Cynthia released the cable and drew her own sword, leaning back against the door for support as her balance slipped from her control. The door slid out of the way and she backflipped into the room, landing gracefully and with her sword alight. James split his own and looked around.

The room was homey enough. Large, round oak coffee table in front of a hearth to their left, surrounded by a plush couch, loveseat, and recliner. Forward of the livingroom ensemble resided what looked to be a state-of-the-art kitchen and wet-bar. Directly in front of them stood a rather impressive king-sized canopy bed with a dark brown comforter and ivory curtains. To their right, a massive curtained window looked out over the city (though, given the night, the drapes were drawn and the view blocked). A small bureau with a mirror atop rested below the window. The carpet was cream-colored, though the round area rug they stood atop was plush and dark brown in color.

"This looks like a nice place to live," Cynthia commented softly.

"Though not so nice when there's nobody to share it with," a gentle voice called.

Both figures spun to see a woman stepping from a silent elevator left of the empty Styrofoam shaft. The doors closed quickly, leaving the trio to their discomfort.

The woman stood at least three inches shorter than Cynthia, possibly more, and had hair the color of ripe red apples that hung to her chin. Her eyes glittered a mysterious, warm brown as she gazed between the two. She held a steaming mug of coffee in her hands, clad as she was in an oversized black t-shirt and short pink shorts. She sipped from the mug, letting her eyes gaze between the pair before nodding gently.

"You must be the Elite Alumni."

Cynthia noticed that James had tightened his grip on his sword by a minute amount, so insignificant it probably could have gone unnoticed by virtually anyone. He was lobbying an attack.

"Well, come, sit down. Now that you've managed to get in and admire the place, I'm sure you'd like a moment to rest your legs, yes?"

She stepped between them and strode toward the kitchen, humming daintily all the while. Cynthia was perplexed. The woman was so calm and quiet, as though she wasn't the least bit troubled by intruders.

But the sound of her voice was intoxicating. Just listening to it made her feel compelled to strain her ears in hope of hearing more.

Without conscious thought to the contrary, she lounged on the couch, totally entranced by the woman's request.

"I'm Priscilla, by the way. I run this city."

Somewhere in Cynthia's brain, it registered that she should be attacking this woman and bringing death upon her, but the voice drowned out all reason.

"I like her," she commented quietly to James. He nodded, sitting alongside her on the couch.

"I think I like her too," he returned. Cynthia couldn't resist a giggle.

The air was starting to feel slightly muggy. It had an almost tantalizing quality to it. Strangely, Cynthia almost felt…relaxed. For the first time since their initial arrival on the planet, she was beginning to feel at home, which should have triggered warning bells within her head. The bells, however, were silent.

And a creeping warmness began to pool between her legs, filling her thighs and her hips with a teasing tingle. It was a feeling she hadn't had in a long time, and it unsettled her, pleasantly so. She hadn't had it often, and she'd only had it back on her own planet in her own timeline, when she had been alone with James, back when they'd referred to one another by their nicknames.

She was feeling, for the first time in a long time, sexual arousal.

She scraped at her helmet and depressurized it, dragging it leisurely over her head to rest on the end-table beside her; the helmet's coils couldn't keep the heat off her face. Even with a skin-tight suit reinforced by plate armor, she could feel her body reacting to the air, and the euphoria only seemed to grow stronger with her helmet aside. She could feel her breasts reacting, scratching irritably at the material they were bound within; her crotch heated up another several degrees and she began to feel very heady and out of control.

She gazed idly at James and thought he looked particularly sexy with his suit on, lounging on the couch without a word. He seemed to be staring straight ahead, but with the tinted visor she had no way of knowing. She wanted to remember him underneath the suit.

"Coffee?" a cozy voice called.

Cynthia turned and her gaze stilled on a steaming mug set before her on the coffee table. It smelled delicious, but what had her more intrigued were the nimble hands that had offered it to her. So delicate, so small and petite, but so dexterous and refined; her body quivered slightly as she imagined what those hands could do to her. Her breasts tingled; her stomach itched.

"Cream? Sugar?"

"I'll take some cream from the source," Cynthia drawled impatiently. Priscilla, dressed only in a pink kimono which conveniently lacked a sash to tie it closed, sat idly and watched rather unbothered as Cynthia slid toward her like a coiled serpent and bent over her like a hulking bear.

"Hey there, honey," she whispered, nuzzling the strange woman's cheek. "You look like the entrée off the menu."

Priscilla giggled, clearly acting the part, but Cynthia's intoxicated state blinded her into believing it was the laugh of an aroused person who had fallen in lust with her. She straddled the red-head, bringing their foreheads together as her eyes slid gently closed. "You're turning me on, honey. I can't let you get away with that."

Without really knowing what possessed her to act, she set her lips gently against the city leader's, teasing, taunting, experimenting with the woman she hoped to claim. She couldn't think. She couldn't feel. All she knew was that she was hot and bothered, and that this woman was the one to help her release her tension.

Priscilla stood slowly, dragging Cynthia up with her. They stumbled haphazardly to the bed, the robe dropping from the red-head's petite frame, her only clothing a pair of lacy black baby-doll panties that failed to cover the swell of her backside. Cynthia thought it was the most sexy thing she'd ever seen, and when the woman's breasts met her gaze, she succumbed to the arousal building within her stomach and growled as she pounced upon the woman, kissing with renewed fervor.

"I'm gonna have my way with you," she purred.

"And I'm gonna keep you here forever to do just that," the leader returned.

Without warning, the red-head was yanked from the bed by the scalp, followed by a loud crash that sounded of splintering glass. Cynthia's head cleared and her body settled in mere seconds, and she gazed about in a stupor, uncertain as to what had happened.

"I should've known the moment we entered," James's voice growled. He held Priscilla aloft by her soft red hair, her toes not touching the ground. Her face was contorted into a look of pure pain, tears streaking freely down her cheeks.

"Known…?"

"The air. It had a paramecium of some kind that clouded our minds with thoughts of lewd, promiscuous feelings and events. Obviously, this city's dear leader has an immunity to the airborne bacteria and uses it to seduce and kill her victims."

He lifted the woman higher while Cynthia struggled to regain control over her suddenly-wobbly legs. "So…she attempted to seduce us before killing us?"

"It would've worked…if I hadn't been born partially immune to this type of airborne bacterium. My carnal mind wanted to explode outward like a supernatural entity. My conscious mind realized what was happening and aired the room out by smashing the windows."

Priscilla whimpered as his hand shifted and she swung like a pendulum. Her hands and feet were bound uselessly by a glowing set of rings which presumably prevented movement beyond a certain degree. Cynthia shook her head, clearing the remaining thoughts, and breathed the clear air to refresh her mind before reclaiming her helmet.

"What should we do with her?"

James drew his sword and the woman cried out bleakly, more tears streaming down her pained face.

"P-please, don't kill me…"

She was so terrified, she could do no more than whisper, and Cynthia frowned in mute disgust as she watched the telltale liquid dripping from the suspended woman's feet. Fear indeed played a major role in the body's chemical functioning.

"Obviously, this hasn't ever happened to you, so you now experience fear at the idea of failure and death."

The woman whimpered. She shut her eyes tight. James stood still, watching silently as tears slipped down the woman's face.

"I…I-I didn't want to…I w-was forced…"

Both of the Elite Alumni paused. With his free hand, James tapped the side of the antenna raptly, standing stock still otherwise. "Alpha, come in."

Pause.

"Can you hear everything being said in the atmosphere?"

Pause.

"External microphone engaged. Uranus, speak aloud."

"And what do I say, exactly?"

Pause.

"Interface polygraph. See if you can read through my suit's biorhythms and find those of the external subject."

Pause.

"Now, you were saying?"

A beat passed in which all three figures remained silent while their minds processed what James had said. Priscilla sniffled.

"I was forced…I didn't want to do this…"

Pause.

"Continue," James intoned.

She shook. Gooseflesh erupted down her arms and legs, leaving her looking like a plucked chicken. "The One…has power like you can't imagine…I was one of the slaves. I was sixteen when it happened…"

"How did you end up out here?"

She sniffled. "There was…some sort of security flaw with the fortress I was sold to. Somehow it stopped working, I think…But instead of getting it repaired, our Tamer dragged us out here…a-and took over the old city. I…I…"

"You…?"

She gulped.

"Did you kill him?" Cynthia quietly interjected.

The devastated look on the woman's face said it all.

"So if you killed him, why are you still here?"

"I…I was threatened…I was told that my younger sister…she would be fourteen now…she…she would be k-killed if I didn't take over up here a-and run the city…"

"How long have you been out here?"

"T-two years. The fortress failed after one, and…it took nearly a year to get here and take over…"

"Check the database for a Priscilla, natural hair colored cherry-red, aged twenty," James muttered.

"I…I was told I had to be…warm and inviting…I h-had to use sex as a c-controller…"

"Have you killed others?"

"I…I was ordered to, b-but they're just c-c-catatonic right n-now…"

"Catatonic?"

"Th-the drug. It…it induces a-arousal and then puts the victim to s-sleep."

"And then?"

The woman glanced fleetingly out the smashed window, but that was all it took for Cynthia to connect the dots.

"The ice?"

Priscilla began bawling like a newborn, letting the crystalline tears pour unabashedly down her naked skin like raindrops on a glass window.

"Cryogenics. They're not just catatonic, they're probably comatose," James surmised. "They could very easily be braindead with how cold it is out there."

This seemed to make the woman cry even harder. "I d-didn't want to k-k-kill anyone! I h-h-hate this!"

James released her hair and stepped back, letting the woman crumple to her knees and sob into her hands. He swiveled his helmet to face Cynthia. "It's time we get out of here. I have a feeling this one won't be a threat to us, and there'll be hell for her to pay if I'm wrong."

They both moved to the elevator and pushed the button, stepping easily into the expecting carriage

"WAIT!"

They turned. Instinctively, Cynthia stuck her foot across the threshold of the door, holding it open.

"T-take me with you!"

"You'll freeze to death," James stated rather plainly. "You wouldn't be able to survive trying to keep up with us."

"It's gotta be b-better than this," she cried, eyes bloodshot and unfocused.

"Priscilla, get some sleep. When you wake up in the morning, be the better person. Start over. Change this place into a livable environment, not a prison. Make everyone work together. Make this a city."

"I…I c-can't! It's too h-hard!"

"What we're doing is too hard. Fixing this city is the easiest thing you could do. It'll help us the most," she lied, trying to sweeten the deal in hope that the woman would bite the bait.

"A-alright…I'll t-try."

"Good. But first, get some sleep. It's been a long day."

Without a second glance, she withdrew her foot and let the elevator slide slowly down to ground level. The doors opened with a light ding, but an arm barred her path as she moved to leave.

"That was a once-only event, Uranus."

"Neptune?"

"We can't be setting people loose like that," he lisped, tugging the antenna free. "What if that person reports us to The One and allows our movements to be tracked? How can we fight off the horde that would be breathing down our backs? How could we ever hope to defeat Him if we don't have the advantage of surprise on our side?"

"We take people who have unfair odds stacked against them and try to turn them back to the right path, Neptune. Maybe somewhere in that brain of yours you've forgotten the importance of humanity as a collective, but I believe in the good of people and the spirit of the living. I have hope for that woman. I have hope that she can turn this around and make it right."

James stood still for a moment, silently blocking Cynthia's path out of the elevator carriage. Without warning, he turned and strode briskly away, and she couldn't help but wonder if she'd offended him, or worse, addled his brain further.

Things would only serve to inevitably get worse, either way.

"What about Carl? We can't just leave him!"

Jimmy remained silent, striding purposefully away from the spire that had claimed his best friend's life. He knew they had to get out of the city as fast as possible, for the consequences of being captured would be severe at best. He passed building after building, working his way toward the houses rimming the city inside the dome.

"Hey! Neutron! Are you honestly going to leave Carl behind to get killed by those damned things?!"

Stay calm. Forward. Stay calm. Forward. Stay calm. Forward. Don't look back. Don't look back. Don't look

"Hey!"

He received a sharp clout to the back of the helmet, jarring his mantra aside. His stride never faltered, his pace only quickening.

"We need to get out."

"And leave Carl behind? What about those robo-cops?"

"Man, Jimmy, you're so cruel! This is worse than when Ultra-lord's partner got left in Robo-fiend's lair and was melted into scrap metal for tin cans."

"Sheen, now's not the time for Ultralord," Libby chastised gently. "Jim, Cindy's right. What happened to Carl?"

Silence. The group continued migrating toward the edge of the city, toward the entrance they'd forged.

"He sacrificed himself so that I could get us home."

"And you let him?"

"IT WAS THE ONLY WAY!"

So loud and fierce was his roar through the helmet's decibel amplifiers that the windows of nearby buildings exploded in a torrent of glass and bent steel.

"I couldn't save him. There was no alternative. And he was right in saying I'm the only one who can get us home. His sacrifice was for our survival. I won't let him die in vain."

They continued forward, albeit much more uneasily and disgruntled than they'd began. Everyone remained silent and considered their own thoughts, hoping they could avoid upsetting the distressed man leading them away from the spire.

A siren wailed loudly behind them and sounded to be closing in. They never slowed pace.

"CITIZENS. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR DEFILING THIS, OUR GLORIOUS CITY, AND FOR STEALING THOSE, OUR PRECIOUS WEAPONS."

The mechanical giant landed in front of the group, but they continued walking toward it undeterred. Without thinking, Jimmy slotted what looked to be a white handlebar grip into his right hand as easily as though it had been made to fit there.

"HALT, CITIZENS, LEST YOU BE HELD IN CONTEMPT OF THE LAW AND HELD IN INCARCERATION FOR DISTURBING THE PEACE, TRESPASSING, AND DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTY. OUR ESTEEMED LEADER WILL NOT TOLERATE SUCH ACTS OF INSOLENCE."

Without being able to utter any further syllables, the giant landed belly-up on the asphalt with a loud screech and a thunderous thud. James lashed twice more with his extended sword and severed the titan's head and left arm as though he had sliced through warm butter.

"Keep walking," Jimmy muttered darkly.

The remaining three huddled close to their determined leader, waiting for his next command. They all felt that he'd assumed control as the leader in some way, though none of them could describe why with readily available words.

His step faltered once and only once. "Divert," he called, migrating directly to his right. He forced open the front door of a house that had the beginning traces of dilapidation and mold seeping through its cracks. As soon as his company entered, he slammed the door shut and thrust a large couch against it. He pulled the moth-eaten drapes closed on every window around the entire house before returning to the common room to regroup.

"It seems there are two of those guards attempting to close up the hole I made earlier. Since none of you know how to operate your weaponry, we'll be holding out here until the scouters assume we've escaped or perished by alternative means. This can help us to gain intel about our location and the items we currently have in our possession. I'm curious as to how the bracelets work in conjunction with these power suits, but I have no further information about them thusfar. Much testing will have to be done."

"So what do we need to do?"

"First, we need to figure out our current location. I haven't any idea where the triangulation of our current whereabouts is, and I doubt any GPS system I possess at present can read the coded satellite signals undetected, so we'll have to scavenge manually. We also need to determine what exactly has happened here so we know how to counter it."

"You aren't suggesting to help this godforsaken planet, are you?"

"To suggest something so imbecilic would be suicide."

He strode away. Cindy wondered momentarily if he'd called her the imbecile, or merely the idea.

"Scrounge the area. Find anything useful."

No more than five minutes later found the group of four gathered around the diningroom table. In the center lay a map of the surrounding area, an empty cardboard box for "Nuteries," twenty-seven cents comprising of two dimes, a nickel, and two pennies, and an assortment of cutlery utensils including a porcelain knife and a steel whisk, among other spatulas and spoons of different uses.

"This is what the house had for us?" Jimmy asked rhetorically. He scooped up the map and located the small star surrounded by a large black ring. City: H-405 was marked near the ring.

"Austin. Austin, Texas. The capitol city was converted into this domed society of trapped humans. I assume they all fall into forced worship or death by execution, possibly publicly. Perhaps we aren't so far lost after all."

He trailed his finger southeast on the map until he rested at a small red dot. According to the map legend, it was classified as an abandoned outpost, though it bore the name Retroville nonetheless.

"It's several days' walk from here. Given that I lack any form of positioning system, it could be a week before we get there if we don't get lost. The only indicator of the proper direction is what looks like a horse trail that is no longer used.

A thinly-dotted blue line meandered between the city and the outpost, seemingly following the highway and the former exit ramp, though if the brief time spent outside the dome were any comparison to the rest of the locale, finding a highway would be nigh impossible.

He laid the map down and planted his palms against the table, facing his wrists inward and leaning over the map like an army general. "We will need to travel south to figure out what exactly has happened here. If there is even one hapless stroke of luck between the four of us, my lab might still be in-tact, and we can learn everything we'll need to from there. I have enough resources in my hypercube to access most of the lab's primary functions and some of its ancillaries."

"What exactly DO you have in that hypercube?"

"Not enough that I could get us out of here. Seeing as I originally believed this would be a graduation present for everyone, I only brought the bare minimum of supplies, none of which will help us in our current situation."

The way in which he finished his guarded description of the contents of his hypercube had Cindy convinced that he was hiding something, possibly very many somethings that he couldn't disclose given the company he kept.

"This box of 'Nuteries' is very interesting."

He plucked the small cardboard box from the table. It looked as though it could hold a deck of playing cards and little else.

"Why so?"

"Batteries that are rechargeable, have a charge that lasts for one-hundred-fifty hours at a time, and run based on microscopic nuclear synthesis. Curious."

"Why curious?"

"The ability to contain nuclear energy within a small, tri-cell canister is rather astounding. This world definitely knows something about technology we don't."

He dropped the box and grasped hold of the money. "Amazing that standard currency has survived this long."

The change clattered to the table. Last were the cutlery items.

"These could potentially be useful. A porcelain knife, a steel whisk, a wooden spatula, a steel spoon, an ice cream scoop, and a pasta spoon. The things people leave behind in a house say a great deal about who they are and what they find necessary in life."

He slid all five of the utensils into his hypercube.

"So now what?"

He turned to the other three. "Pick a room, a bed, something. Everyone needs to get some sleep; we won't be making any further movements until night at the soonest, though more likely morning. I'll have decided what to do by then."

And with no further comment, he departed for the common room, leaving the remaining three to look between themselves.

"We've gotten into some crazy situations before," Libby commented, "but I think this one takes the cake. We…we lost Carl…"

Everyone's heads bowed in silent agreement and prayer for a loyal friend they would never see again. With such a grim start to an unexpected adventure, Cindy felt innately that things would certainly get to be terribly worse before they'd become remotely better.