Relic’s outskirts were not built for humans. Or sanity.

Cracked roads led nowhere. Neon signs blinked in languages no one had spoken in decades. The whole district reeked of decay, old electricity, and bad decisions.

Then came the explosion.

Jarek spun, blaster already in hand. Brinn flared a heat-pulse across his fists. Sai simply melted backward into the shadows.

Pepe hovered calmly. “Explosion detected. Analysis: approximately fifteen percent heroic, eighty-five percent stupid.”

They followed the sound.

What they found… defied logic.

A battered street-cleaning drone was zipping across the broken ground at ridiculous speed. Straddling it, yelling gleefully, was a man.

Not just any man.

He had wild hair, goggles on his forehead, a trench coat that had definitely seen combat (but probably only survived it by accident), and a sparking cyber glove that looked like it had been modified using kitchen appliances.

“YEEEEEEEAHHH!”“FOR THE LOST ONES!”“DOWN WITH AI!”

Then he spotted Pepe.

He froze.

So did Pepe.

“YOU!” Ramm shouted, pointing an accusing finger. “YOU’RE ONE OF THEM!”

Pepe beeped, alarmed. “Clarify: ‘them’ as in friends, or ‘them’ as in 'target acquired’?”

“FILTHY MACHINE!”

Ramm leapt off the drone—more accurately, was flung off—tumbled mid-air, and landed in a clattering roll before springing up with a screwdriver like it was a blade forged in vengeance.

“DIE, CODE SCUM!”

Jarek grabbed him mid-charge.

Brinn raised a brow. “Is this a person?”

Ramm flailed. “Unhand me, bounty scum! I’ll dismantle your toaster soul!”

Sai emerged from the shadows, just far enough to sigh.

Pepe chirped, “I vote we put him in a cage and feed him peanuts.”

Ten minutes later, Ramm had calmed down—barely—and was elbow-deep in a busted public terminal, using his glove, some string, a chewed battery, and (somehow) a gum wrapper.

“Been tracking power surges across Relic,” he explained between mouthfuls of energy bar. “Weird stuff. Dead spots. Flickering systems. Something big in the grid.”

Jarek watched him for a moment, brow furrowed. For someone who looked like he lost a fight with a microwave, the guy was actually clever.

Sai leaned forward. “The Weaver.”

Ramm blinked. “You know about the Spider Thing?! Oh we are so getting cursed.”

Pepe floated between them. “You were already cursed. You installed a USB drive in your glove using duct tape.”

“Duct tape is sacred!” Ramm shouted.

Sai’s eyes flicked toward Ramm, just once. Not amusement - something quieter. Maybe even approval.

Jarek pinched the bridge of his nose. “So. To recap: we’ve added a possibly insane hacker to our roster. Shadow assassin. Fire tank. Me. And my sentient disappointment machine.”

Pepe spun smugly. “You love me.”

Ramm gasped. “We’re a team now?! I always wanted a crew! Can I name us?”

“No,” said literally everyone.

Pepe whispered, “Oops All Outlaws.”

Brinn looked around at the group, then at the smoking remnants of the drone Ramm had arrived on.

“We’re not exactly subtle.”

“We’re not exactly sane either,” Jarek muttered.

Sai stayed silent, but didn’t object. That was probably agreement.

They gathered their gear and started walking again—this time, together. The skyline of Ashalara loomed in the distance—towers jutting from the smog like spears through a dying world. Lights flickered like a warning. No ships flew overhead. No sound but the wind.

Brinn broke the silence. “We’re really going in there, huh?”

Jarek nodded once. “We’re already in it.”

Sai walked a half-step behind them, cloak brushing the dust.
“Sometimes,” he murmured, “you only get a second to fix everything.”

Pepe blinked. “Was that poetry, or are you having a stroke?”

Ramm beamed. “We need matching jackets.”

“No,” everyone said again.

Still, no one turned back.

The city of Ashalara blinked in the distance, and something inside it stirred.