It took them forty-five minutes to leave the forest, but they ended up arriving in a small secluded town. Twilight had bled into the the sky and so the towns lampposts and storefront lights brightened the area. Javier could see another outpost out in the distance flanked by a flag and a dead radio tower. The outposts in the towns and cities were usually small buildings with a red pendant flag beside them unlike the wooden towers in the forests. To their right, upon the narrow cracked road they were on was a small grocery store called Whirlies. Past the electronic doors were empty shelves in empty aisles that used to carry food products and emltrt cobwebbed walkways that used to carry fish and poultry. Javi left the store in disappointment, hoping that he would've found something to bring Navi. As soon as they crossed the next street they came upon an empty house with a desolate playground park right next to it; It was divided by a rusted creaking fence. Javier, with much prodding from Sverre decided to take a quick breather sit on one of the swings. Suddenly they heard gunshots crack the air, a few kilometers away from them, near the outpost. 

"Pretty messed up, ain it?" said the man behind them. Javier almost shot him out of pure instinct but his curiosity held him back.

"What's messed up?" Javier uttered.

"What yer closest crewmates would be willing to do for some bread and water." 

The man was around his mid-sixties with blonde stubs and long beach blonde hair. He looked like a surfer dude who was on crack his whole life. He had a really strong southern drawl. "Them guys used to be allies but I guess today one o them cracked and sacrificed his teammates. All for some bread and water."

"Lemme guess, you were in that group?" Javier uttered callously. He enviously noticed the two tilapia fishes that he carried around his neck. What was the protocol for beating a man to death and pillaging whatever he had?

"I left them wolves yesterday yungin. Them guppies don't like to listen to no sense. They don't respect no elders."

"I can't say I'm surprised."

"I'm Logan Prescott. Former fisherman today, future hellraiser tomorrow." 

"A Mexican, a Russian, and a Redneck. My day just keeps getting better and better." Javier muttered sourly. 

"What you sing-songin about?" Logan flipped his shiny butterfly knife in front of Javier and slid it back in his jacket pocket. He looked around the neighborhood rather bitterly and said, "I can't believe this shithole used to be Pennsylvania. So, what brings you yungins to Chamberlain City?"

"We're headed to Rust City."

"Rust City," Logan said measurably. "Good ol Philly Rust City? Capital o the Outer Lands Rust City?"

"That's the one."

Logan cast a hungry look at Sverre. He looked more predatory under the lamppost light than he really was. "That your girl lil one?"

"No, but I've chosen to look after her in the meantime."

"So what is she? Your lapdog or sumthin?"

"No but I found her wandering the streets of Wentworth by herself. She needs adults in her life—so she'll be whatever I want her to be!"

"Well, you're just frothing with love. Keep up the good work lil one," he pulled out a cigarette. "What you idiots going to Rust City for? Nothing but gangs and hellfire over yonder." 

"There's a young lady I need to find. She needs our help," Javi said, rather passively. He didn't like Logan very much. He reminded him of one of those annoying wannabe wise father-figures. It was also the fact he had more street smarts than him than he cared to admit despite him dressed like a walking garbage can. He carried two hockey sticks and a fishing pole in a black trash bag, which didn't help his image either.

"Where she located?" Logan asked.

"The Riviere Motel," 

"Oh that's like twenty minutes away from here yungin. And Rust City is over this here bridge. If you let me tag along, I'll show you the way around."

"No thanks," Javier said brusquely.

"What about food? I'm sure that girl is mighty starving. This here fish might do her some good."

Javier remembered the promise he made to Navi. Two pieces of fish would really go a long way. Not just for her but for them. "Oh all right. But just for the night."

The moon rose right above the black mountains as the night deepened. It was cricket quiet as the trio made their way down the winding road of the surreptitious village town. Some houses they passed by had the red white and blue billowing right in the front yard, right underneath the inky sky. 

"You mind me asking where you're from, lil one?"

"I do actually."

"Well can you at least tell me yer name? You haven't been very hospitable as of late."

"His name's Javier," said Sverre, picking up on the conversation.

"Javier," said Logan sweetly. "That's a Spanish name ain't it? Or is it Mexican?"

"He's half Mexican."

"Is he? I would've taken him to be European or something—cuz you look white but there's just something off about it."

Javier could've jumped the man, but something stopped him—a strange snarling sound. A host of them. Not too far away from them was the parking lot of the motel and right above it was the squat building itself. The area smelt of burnt diesel, rotten corpses, dry urine, and dirty socks. Javier could make out the cracked  maroon sign of "Riviere" blinking ominously as flies zoomed around it. The building had a platform that separated the two floors and right on the second floor amongst the chipped windows and battered doors was a gang of Skins surrounding the center door. They rapped and scratched the door frames trying to get in.

"I guess I better go in—Logan, you can trail behind. If I get in a scrape don't be afraid to batter any heads with that hockey stick. Hockey sticks were made for ice hockey, but tonight they're made for icing any idiots that get in your way. Sverre—I need you to pop these fools if they manage to get me or Logan. Just point and shoot and don't be afraid to waste any bullets."

Javier crept confidently past the parking lot and up the steps. He stealthily managed to stab a Skin right in the back of the head. Suddenly a party of screeches tore through the air and the Skins began to take swings at Javier but the survivor was faster than them and more built than them. Several gunshots rang into the night and two Skins fell limply to the ground. The battering sound of a whacking stick brushed the air and suddenly there was only a single Skin banging at the door. Javi kicked him in the stomach and with a single flourish stabbed him straight in the forehead. In what felt like a blink of an eye, the Skins were dead, giving a clear path to the door. 

"Sverre you can come up now!"

Sverre, shivering, wiped the blood, grime and tears from her face as she dragged her feet to the second floor.

"You know what? I think we make a pretty damn good team," said Logan.

"For once, I actually agree with you on something," said Javier, ignoring Sverre's incessant sniffling.

With the Skins out the way, all that was left was to see if the Russian girl was still behind that door. If she was still alive and kicking at all. 

Javier knocked pretty loudly, almost as if he was a cop looking to investigate a crime scene. For a moment there was no sound. For a moment, Javier thought Navi was dead. But then came the sweet indistinct murmuring. The door creaked open.

"Javi, is that you?"