"I think we focus on the houses around us," Ishita said, her arms folded tight across her chest. "It's safer that way."

Tanya wandered over to the group, slapping her hands against her skirt. It was more mentally preparing her than practical. Ishita and Fahad were curled into the battered sofa like an old habit, while Olena sat backwards on the tattoo chair, arms draped over the backrest casually. Mrs Eceer stood poised beside a few sheets of paper taped together, sharp pencil in hand. She'd sketched out a rough layout of the buildings nearby, the lines sparse and efficient—just enough to orient themselves.

"The grocery store isn't much further," Mrs Eceer said, glancing down as she added a new note. Her pencil scratched softly against the paper. "It's just past the scaffolding."

"Towards a main road though," Ishita added.

Tanya crouched, squinting at the map. Facing the street in her mind, she pictured it—left was the Vietnamese bakery with the hole in the ceiling straight up to Mrs Eceer's flat. To the right, the shuttered beauty parlour that'd gone under weeks ago. She'd guessed the flat above was empty—those places usually sold as a pair. Opposite was the kebab shop, now with a car halfway lodged through its front. She could still see the head peeking through the car window in her mind's eye. Mrs Eceer had drawn a question mark over the upstairs flat. To the left of that was the pawn shop, always looking dodgy. And to the right? The butcher's, all tiled walls and bone hooks.

Olena held both hands up, lifting them up and down like she was physically weighing options. "Grocery stores are full of people ready to fight. Is big risk, big reward. I use big gun and no more problems." She grinned like the risk part was the fun. Then she slumped forward dramatically onto the tattoo chair. "But maybe I destroy food in process. Not good. Is bad plan."

Mrs Eceer didn't look up. "Not worth it then."

"Pawn shop's owned by an older bloke," Tanya offered, standing back up and stretching out her back with a wince. "Shop's all shadows and dusty glass. Little fella with tiny specs. Real 'keep off my lawn' energy. Don't think I know many other folks round here, not personally anyways."

Ishita shook her head. "So many places going under."

"I miss the little cafe," Fahad sighed. "They made the best fairy cakes."

For a moment, it felt like they were still in the real world, thinking about the rent going up and the amount of empty shop faces.

Tanya missed those fairy cakes too, and the pretty girl who'd sold them. She'd never gotten her number—now she probably never would.

Will I even have cake again?

She blinked, remembering the apocalypse. It all seemed so unreal.

Focus.

She reached for the pen Mrs Eceer held out and added her bits to the map.

"There's Laura from the florist," she added, pen tapping on the far right. "Bit further than the rest. Might be too far, though."

"What about the kebab lot?" Olena asked, tracing her finger across the paper. "Above the car crash."

"There's Asad and his wife—she's a nurse," Tanya said. "Used to pop down for coffee now and then. They were nice… before."

"Useful if she's alive," Mrs Eceer said flatly, her voice clinical. "Dangerous if she's not."

"Or maybe if she is," Olena said.

"Bleak," Tanya muttered, leaning her cheek against her hand.

"True," Ishita added softly.

"If we take it one at a time, we are the safest," Ishita said.

"Agreed," Mrs Eceer replied, tapping the pencil against her chin. She aimed a look at Olena. "And less chance of needing an explosion."

Olena made finger-guns and clicked her tongue. "I keep insides all neat for shop build."

Tanya crouched again, smoothing a stubborn crease out of the paper with the flat of her palm. "Well, the bakery's right there. We already know the layout—and we already dropped half our bloody gear through the ceilin'."

"You break entire ceiling?" Olena asked, eyebrows shooting up like she was genuinely impressed.

"That monster acid did," Tanya said, jerking a thumb towards the bin bags in the corner. They were double-bagged and shoved against the wall, the most liquid of the creatures contained as best they could. "These places can be a bit minging, but not that bad."

"We've heard no movement since," Mrs Eceer added. "Not since the Mini Boss."

"It's also a food place," Ishita said, voice lightening with hope. "Maybe some of the ingredients survived?"

Fahad perked up immediately. "We should check for snacks."

"What about the others?" Olena asked, drumming her nails against the metal chair frame. "Beauty parlour?"

"Been shut a while," Tanya said. "Flat above usually goes with it. Haven't seen lights in ages. Might be empty."

"Maybe monsters not break in then," Olena said brightly. "Could be not-monster-gut-wood. Is technical term."

"True," Ishita said. She petted Fahad's hair, holding on to him.

Tanya worried about Fahad hearing all this, but she supposed it was their life now, and he mostly just seemed excited to go outside.

"What about this pawn shop?" Olena said, reading it slowly. "What is pawn?"

Tanya snorted. Ishita covered her smile.

Mrs Eceer sniffed and adjusted her clothes. "A place for selling things second hand."

"I dunno," Fahad said, wriggling further onto Ishita's lap. "He's definitely a vampire."

"He's not a vampire," Tanya sighed. "Just a bloke with bad posture and glasses."

"Same thing," Olena said.

"Could be useful stuff though," Mrs Eceer added. "Tools, batteries, radios if we're lucky."

"Yeah but also traps or powers," Tanya said. "People as stubborn as him? They don't give up easy."

"Agreed," Mrs Eceer said. "High risk, possibly high reward. Let's save it."

Tanya tapped the beauty parlour again. "That one's temptin'. Dead quiet. Easy pickin's."

"Bakery is still more known, yes?" Ishita offered.

"So bakery first," Mrs Eceer said. "Because we know it. Then back here and reassess."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"And we don't touch the grocery store," Tanya added firmly. "Not yet. Last thing we need is startin' a turf war."

They all went quiet for a moment, the plan settling over them like a blanket—not comforting, but solid.

"Alright," Tanya said. "We've got a plan. Bakery, regroup, then reassess. Easy."

"Hopefully," Mrs Eceer murmured, folding the map.

They stood, staring around the group for a moment, then all set into motion at once.

Tanya hunted down her docs. Mrs Eceer's boots weren't crazy hard to walk in laced as tight as they were. She'd nearly forgotten she was wearing them with so much going on. But for running and fighting—anything her size would be better.

Tanya heard and saw snippets of the lively preparation as she looked.

Ishita lectured Fahad on staying safe. "...so what do you do if we see someone?"

"Help them?" Fahad replied.

Ishita winced and her mouth opened and closed.

Oof, rather her havin' to explain why that's not true anymore than me.

The loud clunking of Olena's arm drew Tanya's eye. Mrs Eceer glared at Olena as she clicked different pieces into place.

"What? Is back up plan," Olena insisted.

Tanya had checked by both doors, in the corner, and near the sofa at this point.

Ah shit, they're upstairs.

"One-sec gang," Tanya said, but she doubted any of them were paying attention.

Tanya left the flat with an exhale, feeling the wind on her face and the quiet of outside. They were a strange bunch. They'd met merely days ago and she'd always considered herself more of an introvert, but she wouldn't trade them for the world.

She shifted the door out of the way. It clunked fully out, off its hinges, like before.

Tanya's face was a stark reality as she entered the flat.

The mirror caught her first—like it always did. A cracked thing, cheap and unframed, leaning against the wall where it hadn't been meant to live but ended up anyway.

She stopped. Looked.

It wasn't that she didn't recognise herself. It was worse—she did.

Sweat-damp shirt clinging under the arms, smudges of dust along her jaw where she must've touched her face. Her hair looked half-melted to her skull, tangled at the roots, the ponytail limp and fraying at the sides. Skin pale in patches and flushed in others, like her body couldn't decide what it was doing.

And her eyes—god, her eyes.

They weren't haunted. They weren't blazing. They were just awake. Staring back like someone who hadn't blinked in hours and didn't trust what blinking might miss. A little red around the edges. Dry. Focused in that hard, narrow way that came after too many adrenaline spikes too close together.

She looked like someone caught between fights. Not heroic. Not tragic. Just… caught.

Tanya let the breath out through her nose, slow.

"Fuck this," Tanya muttered to no one, then pulled her shirt off in one harsh motion and threw it across the room. "I'm not going out there like this."

Washing would have to wait. But this? This she could control.

She tore through the drawer by feel. Needed to be something short for Phantom Brand to be accessible. Denim shorts—scuffed at the hem and comfort-worn—found her hand first. Oversized short-sleeve tee next, grey and soft and hers. She dragged it over her head like armour. Then came the jumper, baggy and black, pulled on backwards twice before she got it right. Leather jacket last—creased, cracking at the shoulders, but it still had weight. Presence.

Layers. Like building a version of herself she could stand to see.

She had makeup laid out in her bedroom dresser. It was a routine she had most mornings after rounds of skin-care, along with whatever true crime podcast she was listening to. That didn't feel right. She opened the drawer instead. The old makeup bag was half-dust, but the eyeliner hadn't dried out. She smudged it hard under both eyes, then again over the lids, no subtlety, just shadow—like she used to as a teenager. Back when anger had felt like strength, and strength had felt like everything.

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't even tidy. But it was something.

She walked past the mirror again and paused. Still not the girl she used to be. Not even close. But she didn't flinch this time. She smiled—just a twitch of the corner of her mouth.

And the stranger in the mirror smiled back.

• • •

They left slowly.

Mrs Eceer went first, kitchen cupboard door braced in one hand and a faint shimmer of protective warding clinging to the other. Olena followed a step behind, her mech arm humming faintly, the safety light blinking red at her wrist. They moved with the kind of practised silence that made Tanya's skin crawl. Quiet meant something out here.

Tanya and Ishita flanked the rear, backs nearly touching as they stepped over the jagged threshold. Assistant perched on Tanya's shoulder, crawling from one side to the other of the smooth fabric of her jacket. Fahad stood sandwiched between them all, vibrating with the energy of someone trying to be very still and very brave.

"I can be at the front," Fahad whispered.

"No," Mrs Eceer said without looking back. "Middle. If anything happens, you promise—you disappear into the wall."

He frowned. "But I—"

"Promise me," she said, turning slightly, voice steel-flat.

Fahad looked to Ishita, a flicker of uncertainty behind his wide, dark eyes. She crouched until they were level, her prosthetic hand glowing faintly where it touched his cheek.

"You're important," she whispered. "You staying safe is the mission, alright?"

He stared back at her, then nodded, reluctant but real. "Okay."

Then they moved.

Bodies close, breath shared. They pressed in tighter as they left the safety of the shop overhang, hands brushing, elbows bumping, boots sliding over cracked concrete. Every sound was a question: a scuffle—wind or threat? A creak—structure or stalker?

Even the thrill of it hummed like a second heartbeat beneath their fear. Tanya felt it in her ribs: the rush of out, of doing, of moving. Phantom Brand pulsed beneath her skin like it wanted out. She itched with it. It didn't scare her the same way anymore. She was stronger now.

The path was winding as they stepped around and sometimes over the scattering of bodies in the street.

They reached the bakery.

No movement.

The broken front window gaped like a wound, jagged teeth of glass catching the light. The smell hit first—the same sour sweetness the monsters always had, but this time Tanya wasn't sure if it was just monsters, or real rotten food too. Then came the silence. It was like the air had forgotten how to echo. With magic out in the world, Tanya couldn't tell if it was real or in her head

Mrs Eceer held up a hand. Wait.

They listened.

Then, in a ripple, the tension eased. Not gone, but pulled back, like the tide.

"Clear," Mrs Eceer said softly.

They fanned out, finally breathing again.

"Ew, it smells weird," Fahad said, clamping his nose.

"I guard outside," Olena said, saluting. The whir of her canon arm increased as she stepped back outside.

Tanya snorted. "She just wants an excuse to blow somethin' up."

Mrs Eceer bristled. "I will tell her not to." Tanya saw them exchange words through the window. Then she turned back to take in the shop.

The counter ran along the back right, once polished wood now cracked and covered in dust and plaster, still cluttered with trays of pastries that had fossilised where they sat. Croissants flattened under debris, sponge cake caved in on itself. Behind it, cupboards hung open, one snapped clean off its hinges, another still gently swinging like it hadn't yet realised time had passed. Most of them were in complete ruin, with more piles of rubble than any recognisable furniture. The door to the kitchen in the far right corner was half-blocked by rubble, while the back-left exit stood shut where she'd locked it when Mrs Eceer and her had left. A trail of Mrs Eceer's blood started in the centre and dripped over to it. Tables and chairs along the left wall were shattered or upturned, some crushed under the weight of fallen beams. The ceiling had dropped in like a broken jaw, exposing the bones of the place—and strewn across the floor, glistening in the half-light, lay the carcasses of the monsters that had brought it down. Their limbs were twisted, and the black blood squelching from them ate through the tiles beneath them, filling any gaps with thick dried liquid.

The further in they got, the more they had to step over. Seemed like some of the monsters had died falling through the ceiling and those that survived had left to the street before collapsing at the death of the Mini Boss—assuming these were even the same monsters at all.

Tanya stepped further into the ruined shell of the bakery and froze.

The body was still there, behind the counter. Her hand held out where a key once was, fingers bent from where she'd stepped on it before she'd seen.

Her eyes darted to Fahad. He was rifling through the glass shelves.

"They're all hard," he whined.

She saw her closer now, half-buried beneath what remained of the ceiling. Crushed beneath wood and wire and flour-dusted stone. Her apron was still tied, her hands splayed like she'd tried to crawl.

Tanya didn't breathe. Mrs Eceer moved past her and stilled too, a visible shudder going through her spine.

"Stay here. He doesn't need to see," Mrs Eceer whispered.

Tanya guarded the body and watched Mrs Eceer unhooking the curtains.

Ishita and Tanya made eye contact over Fahad's head.

"Do you think any of it has survived Mum?" Fahad asked.

"I'm not sure babu. Anything without dairy is probably safe to eat but not very nice."

Ishita's eyes were questioning, different to the words she was saying. She looked down at the counter where the body was and tilted her head.

Tanya nodded. Ishita's chest heaved and she straightened, then she turned back to Fahad, giving him her full attention.

"How about we collect the bread up, just in case?" Ishita asked, positioning herself between Fahad and the counter.

Mrs Eceer returned with the curtain and laid it over the body, whispering a prayer and touching her forehead, chest, and shoulders.

Tanya stayed for a moment, staring down at the purple velvet, and then they dispersed.

Mrs Eceer collected up her notebooks from the bag, salvaging what she could from between the monster's bodies with a scowl.

Tanya focused on the tins, collecting them up. They'd only grabbed one lot of things—whatever they could pile up. It had felt like so much at the time, but now it was measly.

She looked up at the ceiling and readjusted until she saw the shine of more tins in that cupboard.

They just needed to find a way up.

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