The Surfer Boy Pizza van barreled down a deserted Nevada highway, reggae music playing faintly from the stereo. The midday sun beat down on the road, casting long shadows on the cracked asphalt.

Inside the van, Jonathan sat in the driver's seat, his eyes heavy with fatigue. Every so often, he slapped himself awake, muttering under his breath about needing to pull over soon.

Argyle leaned against the passenger doorframe, a leftover pizza crust in hand and a greasy box balanced on his lap. His sunglasses reflected the desert horizon as he chewed lazily.

In the center space, Eden leaned back against the side panel, idly twirling an unlit clove cigarette between her fingers. Susie sat cross-legged beside her, her notebook open, scribbling calculations with intense focus.

At the back, Mike and Will were pressed against the rear doors. Mike stared pensively out the window, while Will sketched absentmindedly in his notebook.

As the van passed a Surfer Boy Pizza shop billboard, Argyle perked up, his voice bursting with enthusiasm.

"Holy shit, dude. Check it out. I didn't know they expanded into Nevada."

He chuckled, leaning back in his seat, then turned toward Eden with a wide grin.

"Watch out, Domino's. Your dominoes are gonna fall."

Eden rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with snark. "Oh yeah, because what the world really needed was another greasy pizza cult."

Argyle smirked, unbothered. "Eden, you gotta try before you deny."

Susie, suppressing a laugh, joined the banter. "Let me guess, Argyle's next pitch will involve pizza and a Vegas franchise."

Breaking away from the playful banter, Will leaned forward slightly, his voice cutting through the noise.

"How far is Nina from Vegas?"

Mike glanced toward Susie for confirmation. "From Vegas? Um, as long as Suzie's coordinates are right, about another 90 miles. Why?"

Susie looked up, her expression bright and confident. "Oh, don't worry. My coordinates are accurate to within 0.084 degrees. If we miss it, it won't be on me."

Will grinned, leaning back in his seat and turning toward Mike. "Well, once we save her, El, we should stop on the way back. El could make us, like, super rich, and we'd never have to work. We could just play D and Nintendo for the rest of our lives."

Mike's lips quirked into a faint smile as he nodded, playing along. "Yeah. Totally."

But the playful tone faded as Will grew more serious. His expression softened, and he leaned forward slightly. "We're gonna make it, Mike. She's gonna be okay."

Mike hesitated, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he let his fears slip out. "Yeah, I know. I… I know she is. But… But what if after all this is over, she… sh… she doesn't need me anymore?"

Will's voice was firm but gentle, unwavering in its support. "No, o… of course she'll still need you. She'll always need you, Mike."

Mike shook his head slightly, his words spilling out in a rush as he struggled to express his feelings. "I keep telling myself that, but I… I don't believe it. I mean, she's special. She was born special. Maybe I was one of the first people to realize that. But the truth is, when I stumbled on her in the woods, she just needed someone. It's not fate. It's… It's not destiny. It's just simple dumb luck. And one day she's gonna realize I'm just some random nerd that got lucky that Superman landed on his doorstep. I mean, at least Lois Lane is an ace reporter for the Daily Planet, right? But…"

Will scoffed softly, cutting off Mike's self-deprecation. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a rolled-up painting, his voice soft and steady. "Can I show you something?"

Will unrolled the painting, revealing their D party locked in battle with a massive dragon. At the forefront stood a knight, sword drawn, guiding the group. Mike's eyes widened in awe. "This is amazing. Did you paint this?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I mean… I mean, El asked me to. She commissioned it, basically. I mean, she told me what to draw." Will hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the paper. "Anyway, my point is, see how you're leading us here?"

He pointed to the knight's coat of arms, which bore a large red heart. Will's voice grew more impassioned as he explained. "You're guiding the whole party, inspiring us. That… That's what you do. And see your coat of arms here? It's a heart. And I know it's sort of on the nose, but that's what holds this party together. Heart. Because, I mean, without heart, we'd all fall apart. Even El. Especially El."

Will's voice softened, tinged with emotion as he shared what he'd observed. "These past few months, she's been so lost without you. It's just, she's so different from other people, and… when you're… when you're different, sometimes… you feel like a mistake. But you make her feel like she's not a mistake at all. Like she's better for being different. And that gives her the courage to fight on."

His words trailed off, and his gaze dropped momentarily. "If she was mean to you or she seemed like she was pushing you away, it's because she's scared of losing you, like you're scared of losing her. And if she was going to lose you, I… I think she'd rather just get it over with quick. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. So, yeah, El needs you, Mike. And she always will."

Mike took a moment, absorbing Will's words, his expression shifting from uncertainty to something closer to belief. Finally, he asked, "Yeah?"

Will met his eyes. "Yeah."

Turning back to the window, Will let the silence settle. Tears streamed silently down his face, hidden by the angle of his head.

From the driver's seat, Jonathan glanced into the rearview mirror, catching the raw emotion on his brother's face. His heart twisted as he realized the depth of Will's feelings.

The Surfer Boy Pizza van rumbled into the parking lot of a small, weathered diner—the last stop before the desert. The neon sign above the entrance flickered intermittently, buzzing faintly as the letters struggled to stay lit. From a speaker mounted near the door, the twang of old country music drifted into the warm desert air.

Jonathan parked the van and immediately slumped back in his seat, rubbing his tired eyes. "Finally," he muttered. "I need caffeine. Like, yesterday."

Argyle was the first to hop out, stretching his arms wide and inhaling deeply. "Mmm, crisp, dusty freedom," he said dramatically, a grin spreading across his face. "Smells like French fries."

Eden followed, climbing out with a lit clove cigarette already between her fingers. She exhaled a plume of smoke and smirked. "Or grease and despair. Your call."

Behind them, Susie adjusted her glasses as she stepped out, glancing around the parking lot with curious interest.

The group shuffled toward the entrance of the diner, the door jingling faintly as they stepped inside. The interior was modest but cozy, with red vinyl booths lining the walls and a counter lined with worn swivel stools. A chalkboard menu hung above the counter, listing the day's specials in faded chalk.

A few scattered patrons occupied the tables, chatting quietly or nursing cups of coffee. Behind the counter, a waitress with a tired but friendly expression looked up as they entered, offering them a small nod of acknowledgment.

The group gravitated toward the counter, each staring up at the menu with varying degrees of indecision.

"You kids in a rush, or just here to read the menu?" the waitress asked, her tone dry but not unkind.

Argyle grinned and pointed enthusiastically at the menu. "Breakfast burrito, my dude."

The waitress raised an eyebrow, her hands pausing mid-wipe on a coffee-stained counter. "We stop serving breakfast at noon."

Argyle's face fell, his expression a mix of genuine disappointment and confusion. "That's harsh, man. It's breakfast o'clock somewhere."

The group collectively groaned at his response, but the tension of the long drive melted slightly as they settled on sandwiches, fries, and drinks.

The group hung out, waiting for their order when a little boy burst out of the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy and mismatched charm. He clutched a coloring placemat in one hand and a fistful of crayons in the other. A vivid Kool-Aid mustache adorned his upper lip, and his grin was gap-toothed and wide.

He zigzagged between tables, sneakers squeaking faintly on the diner's floor, narrowly avoiding collisions with chairs and patrons. Finally, he turned too sharply and came face-to-… chest with Argyle's towering frame.

Startled, the boy skidded to a halt, craning his neck to look up… and up… and up at Argyle's impossibly tall figure and flowing black hair.

"Whoa…" the boy whispered, his wide eyes as round as his crayons. He stumbled backward in his awe and promptly tripped over his own feet, landing with a soft thud.

Argyle crouched down immediately, his expression soft and kind. "Hey, little dude. You okay?"

The boy stared at him, utterly starstruck. "You're, like… a giant," he whispered in awe.

Argyle chuckled warmly, his laugh as mellow as his demeanor. "A friendly giant, bro. No need to worry. Giants like me? We're all about protecting the little dudes."

With exaggerated care, Argyle helped the boy back to his feet and playfully ruffled his hair. The boy's grin stretched even wider as he clutched his crayons tightly, his gaze locked on his new hero.

From behind the counter, the waitress glanced over, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. "Caleb, quit bothering the customers!" she called.

"He's not a customer. He's a giant!" Caleb declared without tearing his eyes away from Argyle.

Argyle stood and grinned, glancing back at the waitress. "She's got a point, Caleb. I am a customer." He turned back to the boy, his tone conspiratorial. "But don't worry, man—giant-sized breakfast burritos next time, right?"

Caleb nodded solemnly, his face still alight with wonder as Argyle gave him a wink and strolled back to the group at the counter.

Eden, who had watched the entire interaction with a tilted head, smirked faintly. "One out of three… Hmm. Didn't expect that," she murmured, her gaze lingering on Argyle for a beat, intrigued despite herself.

With their sandwiches, drinks, and fries in hand, the group stepped back outside. The late-afternoon sun was hot, and the desert air carried the faint scent of grease and dust as they found spots to sit around the van, eating and soaking in the moment before the journey continued.

The group sat by the van, their laughter and casual jokes mingling with the dry desert breeze as they enjoyed their sandwiches. The faint scent of their food wafted across the empty parking lot, carried by the warm air.

From across the lot, a pit bull appeared, trotting toward them with purpose. Her frame was striking—muscular shoulders and a sturdy, compact build that radiated strength. Yet, there was a playful bounce in her step that softened her commanding presence.

Her white coat gleamed under the sun, interrupted by large gray splotches that added to her unique appearance. The soft pink of her skin peeked through her fur on her rounded belly, giving her an almost piglet-like charm. But it wasn't her looks alone that stole the show—it was her quirks. One ear flopped perpetually to the side, and her butt wiggled non-stop, her slappy tail thumping rhythmically against anything it touched, as though her sheer existence was a reason to celebrate.

Susie was the first to notice, her eyes widening as the dog approached. "Um, guys? Incoming!"

The dog stopped a few feet away, sniffing the air before locking onto the group's sandwiches. Without hesitation, she padded closer with a confidence that bordered on entitlement, finally sitting down in front of Eden. Her gaze was direct, almost expectant.

Eden raised an eyebrow, tearing off a piece of bread from her sandwich and tossing it toward the dog. "What's the matter, little princess? You look like you're starving for attention."

The dog gobbled up the bread in an instant, then leaned forward, resting her head against Eden's knee.

"Bold move, mutt," Eden said, her tone dry but with a hint of amusement. "You got no shame, huh?"

Argyle crouched down, his grin widening as the dog leaned into his outstretched hand. "Oh, man. Look at this little dude. All wag, no chill. You're vibin' hard, bro."

Susie crouched beside him, scratching the dog's chin with gentle fingers. "She's not a dude," Susie corrected, her voice soft but certain. "She's a girl. And she's not just a mutt. Look at her—no collar, but her coat's shiny, and she's well-fed."

Eden, who had seemed indifferent at first, ran her hand along the dog's side, her sharp gaze narrowing in thought. "Huh. That's not just well-fed. That's muscle." Despite her words, there was a subtle warmth in her voice. Eden loved dogs.

As the group finished their food, Jonathan pulled out a joint. He lit it with practiced ease, but the flame licked too close, scorching his fingers.

"Shit!" Jonathan hissed, shaking his hand.

The pit bull immediately perked up, tilting her head at the expletive. Then, with no prompting, she sat down neatly, her tail wagging furiously, sending a small puff of dust into the air. Her movements were smooth, her young energy radiating charm.

Will laughed, pointing at her. "Wait, did she just listen to you?"

They decided to test her newfound obedience.

Susie leaned forward, speaking clearly. "Sit!"

The dog complied instantly, sitting down with the same enthusiastic thump of her tail.

"What about… stay?" Mike added, his tone curious.

The dog froze, her eyes fixed on the group as if waiting for her next command.

The group exchanged looks of delight and growing curiosity, their casual roadside stop suddenly made much more interesting by their unexpected new friend.

The group tested the pit bull's skills with a growing sense of delight. Each command—"shake," "lie down," and even "roll over"—was met with perfect execution. The dog's movements were smooth and precise, her tail wagging happily as though their approval was her greatest reward.

"She's, like, ridiculously well-trained!" Susie exclaimed, her eyes wide with amazement as she scratched behind the dog's ears. "How is she just wandering around?"

The dog leaned into Susie's hands, her eyes half-closed in bliss, clearly reveling in the attention. The group's laughter filled the dusty parking lot as they marveled at her skills.

As the mood began to settle, Argyle, Jonathan, and Eden drifted a few steps away to share a joint. The faint smell of smoke mingled with the dry desert air.

The dog stayed behind with Susie, Mike, and Will, still eager for affection. Susie grinned as she continued scratching behind the dog's floppy ear.

"If we ever had to pick up a stray," she said, her tone light and playful, "this one's got my vote."

From the smoking circle, Eden's voice rang out. "My vote too."

The dog wagged her tail, seemingly pleased with the approval, before plopping down near Susie and Will, her broad shoulders relaxing into the dirt.

As everyone wrapped up their meal and began cleaning up their trash, Argyle's gaze fell on the dog, now lounging comfortably in the warm sunlight. She looked at him squinting in the sun, and cocked her head. He tilted his head, unintentionally copying the dogs head tilt, thoughtfully.

"Dude," he said, his voice slow and serious. "What if… what if she's Nina? Like, she's not a machine or whatever. She's… the dog. Nina the dog!"

The group froze for a moment, glancing at each other before collectively rolling their eyes.

"This is your brain," Susie said, her expression mock-serious as she pointed at Argyle. "This is your brain on drugs."

Mike and Will chimed in perfect unison, smirking. "Got any questions?"

Susie grinned and threw a teasing glance at Eden. "Exhibit A."

Eden took a long drag from the joint, exhaling slowly before smirking back at Susie. "Yeah, well, I smoke, and I'm not a total space cadet. I think Argyle must've started out a little… you know, derpy."

If Argyle was offended, he didn't show it. Instead, he beamed at Eden as though she'd just given him the highest compliment in the world. Any response he might've had was forgotten the moment the dog wagged her tail at him. His attention snapped immediately to her, his face lighting up with unbridled delight.

Will glanced over at Jonathan, who was packing up the last of the trash. "How much farther to the coordinates?"

Jonathan pulled out the map, tracing his finger across it as he squinted at the faint markings. "About five miles. Not too far now."

Susie grinned, her tone playful as she added, "Which, of course, is exactly 26,400 feet. Give or take a couple."

Eden smirked, leaning back against the van.

As they finished cleaning up, Jonathan tossed the last of the trash into a bag. The pit bull, still lounging happily near the group, wiggled with excitement when Mike crouched down to give her a final scratch behind her floppy ear. Her tail wagged furiously, thumping against the ground like a drumbeat.

Eden knelt down, her expression softer than usual as she smiled at the dog. "You're a good girl, aren't you?"

The dog leaned into Eden's touch, her slappy tail thumping against Eden's leg in enthusiastic agreement.

Argyle crouched beside her, his grin easy and warm. "Later, Nina. Be good, little puppers."

As if she understood him completely, the dog erupted into a flurry of wiggly excitement. She leapt up, showering Argyle with slobbery kisses. He laughed, petting her affectionately, clearly unbothered by the barrage of drool.

Eden tilted her head slightly as she watched the interaction, something about the way Argyle accepted the dog's affection without hesitation giving her pause. "Two for three, huh…" she murmured to herself.

Susie caught the look and smirked. "Judging him on the Eden Scale?"

Standing, Eden brushed her hands off. "Just seeing if the stoner passes the dog test."

As the group began heading back to the van, Will fell into step beside Susie, curiosity sparking in his expression. "What's the Eden Scale?" he asked, tilting his head.

Susie grinned, her tone amused as she glanced at him. "Oh, it's this little thing Eden does to judge people. It's all about how they treat dogs, little kids, and old people. Pass all three, and you're good people in her book."

Will's smile widened. "That's… actually kind of genius."

Susie laughed. "Yeah, she's not wrong. If someone's mean to a dog, that's a huge red flag. Like, run-for-the-hills kind of red flag."

"Argyle definitely passed the dog test, though," Will said, his grin turning mischievous.

"Oh, 100%," Susie replied with mock-seriousness. "Nina practically anointed him with slobber."

The group piled back into the van, Argyle the most reluctant to leave the dog behind. Jonathan started the engine, and the van began to roll forward.

The dog sat back on her haunches, watching them pull away with calm, intelligent eyes. Her wagging tail slowed, eventually stilling as the van disappeared down the desert road.

From the backseat, Eden glanced out the window. Her expression was unreadable as she absentmindedly fiddled with her clove cigarette tin. Her gaze lingered on the dog, sitting motionless in the lot as the van drove away.

Once the van had disappeared into the desert, the pit bull remained still for a long moment. Her one perpetually floppy ear twitched as if picking up something imperceptible. Then, as though she understood the stakes, her standing ear slowly drooped.

She sniffed the air, catching the faint, lingering scent of cloves carried on the breeze. Her nose twitched, her expression focused as she stood, gave her body a quick shake, and began to trot purposefully in the direction the van had gone.

Her movements were steady and determined, her tail wagging faintly as she followed Eden's scent into the vast, sun-drenched expanse of the desert.