Where the Predators Prowl [112-114]

112: BBQ Expansion

The steaks were halfway done when Nessy's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and her ears flattened against her skull.

"Oh no," she whispered.

"What?" I asked, flipping a steak.

"It's… Mom." Nessy stared at her phone like it might bite her. "We were supposed to come to dinner. I completely forgot. Feels like we spent a week roaming across dimensions.”

"Our internal clocks are a mess, yes. Answer it," Candace encouraged, seasoning a row of chicken breasts. "Put her on speaker!”

"She's going to be sooo maaaad—" Nessy started, but the fox had already snatched the phone and hit accept.

"HELLO MRS. WHITEPAW!" Candace shouted into the speaker. "This is your favorite unexpected-extra-daughter-slash-fox speaking!"

There was a pause. Then Natalie Whitepaw's voice came through, sounding concerned and flavored with exasperation. "Candace? Where's Nessy? Why didn't you all come to dinner? We've been waiting for you!"

"Oh, right! My bad! The dinner thing!" Candace smacked her forehead with her free paw. "Totally slipped our collective Leviathan-consciousness! We've been super busy with relocating our RV domain to Alec's farm from the Infinite Superstore!"

Another pause. Longer this time.

"You've been doing what?" Natalie asked carefully.

"DUNGEON CONQUERAGE AND INTERDIMENSIONAL LOGISTICS!" Candace repeated louder, as if volume would improve comprehension. "But hey! Since you already made pot roast, why don't you guys pack it up and come here? We've got a BBQ going! Steaks! Burgers! Slime-processed potato salad! A bazillion magic bees for cosy lighting!"

"Magic bees?..." Natalie trailed off. 

Rex's voice came through the speaker, slightly muffled. "Natalie, let me talk to them."

"Dad!" Nessy finally managed to wrestle her phone back from Candace. "Hi! Sorry! We really did lose track of time. It's been... a day. We went urbexing in Denver and uhh… got derailed for a bit."

"Sweetheart, your mother and I have been worried sick," Rex said. "After this morning's revelations about the Magnetic Lynx’s Quest, we thought—"

"That we'd have a family discussion about the Highway Sixty-Nine situation," Natalie finished. "At home."

"Right. That." Nessy bit her lip, “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

“Not sorry! We had serious delving business! Pack the roast and come to the Foster farm right outside of town on Blackwater Road!” Candace interjected. “See you in fifteen!”

With a swish of white finger landing on the red phone button she hung up on Nessy’s parents. The husky glared at the fox.

“What?” Candace bobbed. “They’ll be less angry at us if they’re distracted by yummy steaks and magic bees!”

Kristi's phone buzzed next. She pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and her entire posture changed—shoulders hunching, beak lowering, tail drooping.

“Phone!” Candace lunged.

What followed was a brief but intense struggle that looked like a nature documentary about predators fighting over prey, except the prey was a smartphone and both predators were teenage pradavarian girls. Kristi had height and reach. Candace had… well, Candace-ness.

"Give—it—back!" Kristi hissed, trying to maintain her grip.

"NOPE!" Candace twisted like a ferret on espresso. “Gotta invite your dad too! You’ve been avoiding him long enuff, dude!”

"Candace, I swear to the Abyss—"

"TOO LATE!" The fox hit the call button with her nose while Kristi was trying to wrestle the phone away. "Hi Lord Strand sir! This is Candace, the Rhineheart Estate Prima! 

The phone speaker crackled. A deep, measured voice responded: "...Miss Rhinehart? Where is Krysanthea?"

"She's right here! We're having a BBQ! You should totally come! We've got steaks the size of your head! Magic bees! Dimensional RV! And—" Candace paused dramatically, "—your lovely daughter who has many things to tell you!"

"CANDACE!" Kristi snarl-hissed.

"Is that so," Kristoff Strand's voice held a note of sharp amusement. "And where exactly is this... barbecue?"

"Foster farm, Blackwater Road, just outside Ferguson's back gate! Can't miss it! See you soon!”

Candace hung up with another nose boop and grinned at Kristi.

The raptor's face had progressed through several colors—from violet to deep purple to something approaching ultraviolet. Her claws dug into the picnic table, leaving grooves in the wood.

"You," Kristi said with remarkable restraint, "are the most infuriating creature to come into existence."

"Aww, you say the sweetest things!" Candace blew her a kiss.

"My father is going to murder all of us!"

"Nah," Candace waved dismissively. "He's gonna see the magic bees and forget why he was mad! Works every time!"

"What every time? At what other time did we have bees?! My father—"

"ANYWAY!" Candace pulled out her own phone from nullspace. "Who else should we invite?"

"No one!" Kristi barked. "Absolutely no one else! You’ve already invited enough people here to cause a small local apocalypse!"

"Too late, I'm calling my mom!" Candace danced away, already dialing.

I focused on the grill, because the steaks needed my attention. The steaks would not yell at me, cause drama or threaten patricide.

"Hi Mom!" Candace chirped into her phone, avoiding Kristi’s grabby claws. "Wanna come to a BBQ at Foster Farm? We've got interdimensional architecture! Magic bees! Six dead teenagers! It'll be great!"

Even from several feet away, I could hear Aelianne Rhinehart's exasperation-packed response: "Candace Ian Rhinehart, what are you talking about?"

"BBQ! Foster Farm! Blackwater Road! Twenty minutes! Ferguson-saving plan! Be there or be square!" Candace rattled and hung up before her mother could respond.

Adelle, who had been helping Nessy arrange plates, slowly backed away from the table, heckles rising.

"Do not," the cheetah warned, pointing a claw at Candace. "Don't you dare."

"What?" Candace blinked innocently.

"I know that look. That's your 'I'm about to do something terrible' look." Adelle took another step back. 

“Something terrible like what?”

"You better not invite my asshat parents."

"Why would I invite them?" Candace asked.

"Because you're you and you think it'd be funny."

"Ads, babe, sweetie, sunshine of my… uhh… my combat-oriented self," Candace placed a paw over her heart, "I would never subject you to your horrible parents."

“Really?” Adelle's shoulders relaxed slightly. She glanced at Kristi. “You’re subjecting the raptor to her terrible dad though.”

Kristi looked at Adelle curiously.

"Yes, but on purpose. I'm only inviting people who can actually do things," Candace continued, scrolling through her contacts. "Like, useful people. People with resources, great powers and authority. The opposite of your parents, basically."

"That's somehow worse," Adelle muttered. “What are you planning?”

"Solutions to problems!" Candace hit dial. "Hi Principal Kerberos! Wanna come to a farm BBQ? We'll be discussing our impossible highway-related Quest logistics! ...Yes, the Lynx Quest! ...Foster Farm! ...Yes, there will be steak! ...Okay see you soon!"

"Oh Abyss," Kristi groaned. "You’ve invited the fucking Omnid too?"

"Is fine, he’s our lovely principal," Candace corrected, dialing again. "Hi Marlena! BBQ! Farm! Steaks! Magic bees! Come witness our expanded pack! ...Yeah, Foster Farm on Blackwater Road! ...Awesome, see you!"

"The TA too?" Kristi repeated faintly.

“The seal is cool tho,” Adelle commented. “See, her I would invite. Everyone else, no.”

"And now..." Candace grinned with pure malicious joy as she hit one more contact. "Hi Professor Fern! Remember how you said you'd train us to the limits? Well, we’ve learned well, conquered a dimensional mall dungeon and we're having a BBQ to celebrate! Wanna come? ...Foster Farm on Blackwater Road! ...There will be yummy meatses! ...Great!"

She tapped another contact. “Fluffy! Did you have fun with your new bike? Great! Get your butt to this address. Ya, pinging your bike’s GPS our location! Much BBQ, very fun! See you! Nuzzles!”

She pocketed her phone with a satisfied flourish.

I flipped a steak. The sizzle was very calming. Very calming. 

I definitely wasn’t freaking out about the ever-escalating social tornado about to hit my grandfather’s farm.

"How many people did you just invite?" I asked, eyeing the fox. “Are you done?”

"I think so… and I’ve invited a perfectly reasonable number for a casual get-together!" The fox swished her tail. “It's fine! The barrier will keep everyone safe and the bees will provide a lovely ambiance!"

"The bees are going to be the least weird thing here," Adelle predicted darkly.

Goebel Sartre looked up. "Miss Rhinehart, you do realize you've just invited the two most powerful political figures in Ferguson, their security details and three school administrators to an unregistered domain in the wild zone?"

"Yep!"

"And you think this will go well?"

"Why wouldn’t it? You’ve got me a good obelisk, yes?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s fine!”

“Urm,” Sentinel-Kirra raised her tile-claw. "Should we, like, hide?"

"What? No! You guys are the entertainment!" Candace grinned at the Sentinels. 

“Entertainment?” Kristi-Sentinel looked offended.

"Yass. You're proof of our domain’s amazing-ness! Walking, talking corpse-features! Only super-arcane, swank domains like Highway Sixty Nine have fully sapient inorganic Sentinels."

"I feel like that's not the selling point you think it is," Sentinel-Katherine observed.

"Too late to worry about it now!" Candace grabbed a spatula and started helping with the grill. "We've got like fifteen minutes before everyone shows up! Alec, how are those steaks?"

"Medium rare."

"Perfect! Nessy, organize the bees into prettier patterns! Kristi, stop having an existential crisis and help set the table! Adelle, stop cheetah-stressing and have a beer!”

The Sentinels, perhaps sensing the impending social storm, arranged themselves in an attempt at "definitely not threatening" formation near the RV. Sentinel-Kirra practiced her least scary smile. Sentinel-Kaledonya tried to make her receipt-mane look more presentable, slicking it back in the reflective side of the RV. Sentinel-Katherine just crossed her arms and glared, which was probably her version of "welcoming."

Nessy started humming.

The bulbees began pulsing to her tune, slowly organizing themselves into elaborate patterns across the mountainside. Swirls and spirals of bioluminescent insects created a living lightshow that would have been breathtaking if I wasn't too busy panic-cooking to appreciate it.

“Kristi, take over the cooking,” I said.

The raptor moved to the grill.

I walked over to Candace. “What are you planning?”

“The way forward!” The fox grinned. “Me n’ Ness sniffed it when we were fused into Leviathan-babe. The bestest way forward.”

“Which is?”

The fox slid to my right side and the husky moved to my right. They began whispering in my ears. 

“That sounds… crazy,” I commented. “You sure we can pull this off?”

“Not by ourselves,” Candace said. “But with you as the voice of reason and logic as our human alpha…”

“You really think that Lord Marshal will listen to a low level human?” I asked.

Absolutely not. Kristi’s expression said.

“Lord Marshal has a secret,” Nessy whispered. “One that will make him more compliant.”

“I thiiiiink that he will cooperate with us,” Candace said. “You just have to stand your ground. Be extra firm. Lord Marshal respects that sorta thing. It’s not just him who's coming. You’ve already obliterated my mom. She will respect your words. We need her to fund this whole shebang.”

“And Kerberos respects you too as our Alpha,” Nessy commented from my left. “You gotta convince everyone in one fell swoop.”

“We believe in you,” Candace affirmed from my right.

“Very well,” I said. 

. . .

In the distance, I heard the hum of approaching engines. Multiple engines. Getting closer.

"They're early," Nessy squeaked.

"Everyone act natural!" Candace commanded.

"We're having a BBQ with six undead pradavarians, a million bees, and like an ocean of slimes," Kristi pointed out. "What part of this is natural?"

"The part where we're all just having a nice, casual dinner and discussing minor topics like we all get murdered by the Magnetic Lynx!" Candace flashed a winning smile. "Easy peasy!"

Kristi made disgruntled raptor noises, sliding meat and vegetables onto many plates.

The first vehicle to appear was Turbo-Fluff's new bike. The lynx landed near the picnic area and stared at us with wide eyes. Candace pulled her off the bike and towards the table, whispering explanations into her fluffy ear.

Then Marlena's flying boat appeared overhead. The chonky craft descended. The TA emerged, waving enthusiastically.

"Arf! Damn! So many electric BEES!" She stared at the ever-shifting, starry landscape. "This is AMAZING! Can I pet one?"

"Sure!" Nessy offered her hand, summoning a chunky bulbee to perch down onto her paw. Marlena bonded over and gently stroked its glowing abdomen with one claw. 

The bulbee's luminescence pulsed brighter under Marlena's touch, and the seal let out a delighted bark that echoed across the farm.

"Eeeeee! They're SO CUTE!" The seal pressed her black snout close to examine the insect. "And they smell like vanilla frosting!"

"That's the mana discharge," Nessy explained, her tail wagging. “They’re empowered by positive vibes and—”

The loud hum of anti-grav engines cut her off. Multiple vehicles were converging on our location simultaneously.

Principal Kerberos's fancy black flying car descended first. 

A white, slightly rusted van painted with cheerful blue stripes followed—the Whitepaw family vehicle. I could see Miles and Roxy pressed against the windows, their faces lit up at the sight of the glowing-bee-covered landscape.

Then came Aelianne Rhinehart's silver, arrow-like flying limousine, gleaming in the fading light. The shark bodyguard sat rigid in the driver's seat.

Finally, Lord Marshal Kristoff Strand's vehicle arrived—a large, angular, magisteel-shielded transport that screamed 'military' from every angle. The craft bristled with defensive wards and railgun placements that definitely didn’t look like they were just for show.

The engines cut out in sequence. Doors began opening.

"Shit shit shit," Kristi hissed under her breath, staring at her father stepping out of the armored glider.

"Stay calm," I muttered. "We're just having dinner."

"With my dad!" she shot back, feathers fluttering up like a crown.

"It'll be fine!"

"Will it though?"

113: Inescapable Fate

I hugged the trembling raptor and she relaxed ever so slightly into my embrace.

Before anyone started demanding explanations, the bulbees suddenly shifted formation. Thousands of them spiraled upward in synchronized patterns, creating geometric shapes against the darkening sky. Fractals bloomed and dissolved. A massive figure-eight formed, rotated, then split into two interlocking spirals.

Every single person froze.

Rex and Natalie stepped out of their van and froze. The Whitepaw twins emerged behind them, mouths open wide, eyes shining in wonder. 

Aelianne Rhinehart paused mid-step from her limo, one elegant, silver heel studded with diamondust hexagrams hovering above the ground. The shark bodyguard’s dark eyes tracked the aerial lightshow.

Principal Kerberos tilted his head, the slightly too-wide smile spreading across his face.

Lord Marshal Strand, a well-aged raptor with dull forest-green scales and sharp orange eyes stepped out of his armored car and looked up, face going slack.

The bees continued their dance. New patterns emerged: a kilometer-tall tree, a star, a musical note, and finally, the unmistakable shape of an RV.

"Showoff," Adelle muttered to Nessy.

"I didn't do that," she whispered back. "They're doing it themselves now."

"The domain is showing off," Candace clarified. She manifested a fancy-looking, crystal wine glass from nullspace and tapped it with one claw.

Ting ting ting.

The sharp sound bounced across the mountain-wrapped landscape. Everyone's attention snapped to her.

"Thank you all for coming!" Candace announced, magically-amplified voice carrying across the clearing. "Please, don't panic! The lovely bees are friendly! The slimes are docile! The dead teenagers are mostly harmless!"

"CANDACE," Kristi growled.

"What? It's true!" The fox beamed at the assembled crowd. "Welcome to Foster Farm, the newest camp-domain in Ferguson's wild zone! We have steaks!"

Lord Marshal Strand's orange eyes narrowed. "Miss Rhinehart. What exactly am I looking at?"

"A BBQ, sir!" She gestured expansively. "With a side of extremely important Quest logistics!"

"The bees—" Rex Whitepaw began.

"—are bulbees from the Superstore," Candace declared. "They're our domain defenders. Totally safe as long as you’re not planning to murder us. See?" She held out her paw, and three bulbees landed on it, their abdomens pulsing gentle yellow-white light.

The Whitepaw twins let out a "coooool" noise stretched into three syllables.

"Candace!" Aelianne Rhinehart growled. "You said you had dead teenagers?"

"OH RIGHT!" Candace turned toward the RV. "Team Sentinel! Come say hi!"

Six undead pradavarians stepped forward. Sentinel-Vivianne led, her black and white tiles clicking softly. Sentinel-Nessy followed, concrete and rebar creaking. The four Strand sisters brought up the rear.

"WHAT IN THE ABYSS—" Lord Marshal Strand choked, staring between the dead raptor girls and living Kristi. “That’s… my daughters?! How?! I just saw them all an hour ago.”

"Not exactly your daughters, Lord Strand.” Candace clarified. “They're… versions of your daughters who died in another timeline and got turned into domain guardians! Soul fragments that the Superstore kept."

"Explain," he ordered.

"So funny story—" Candace began.

"The Infinite Superstore and the Magnetic Lynx are to blame for this," I interrupted, deciding direct was better than whatever tangent Candace was about to go on. "In one timeline, we—well, some of us—delved it. We didn't make it out. But our RV did, and it became a domain core. Our domain... preserved pieces of your daughters. As Sentinels."

"Preserved them? The RV became sentient?" Natalie Whitepaw asked, sniffing the RV.

"Technically the tree inside the RV became sentient," Nessy clarified. "Her name is Bulwichu. She's very sweet."

"The tree," Rex repeated.

"A magic tree we planted one universe loop ago," Nessy added.

"Crystal tree."

"Growing through the metal RV, yes!" Candace bobbed.

Principal Kerberos let out a laugh featuring a triple-echo sound that made reality vibrate. "Outstanding! You’ve somehow created a mobile domain anchor! Do you have any idea how rare that is?"

"We're getting a sense," I said.

"Ah! I recognize it," Kerberos continued, circling the RV and sniffing. The Sentinels shuffled nervously as he approached. 

"Me too,” Fern said, one eye flashing. “Identify! Oh. The Superstore Delvers call… The Crystal Forest. This… this is its heart, yes?”

“Yep,” Candace nodded.

“…A stable domain, bound to a mobile anchor, populated with tier-appropriate defenders, and—" Kerberos sniffed the air. "—saturated with Systemfall to the brim but not corrupted by it. Remarkable."

"Is that a compliment or a threat assessment?" Kristi asked.

"Both!" His smile widened further.

Lord Marshal Strand gradually moved to stand directly in front of Sentinel-Katherine. The two raptors regarded each other—one living flesh and scales, the other broken ceramic dinner plates.

"You're my daughter," he stated.

"Was," Sentinel-Katherine corrected. "Different timeline. Different choices. Technically my father died a long, long time ago. You’re… him but also not really, I think. It’s… complicated."

"Katherine," He uttered. A muscle twitched in his jaw. "How did you die?"

"Badly," she said. "The Magnetic Lynx murdered us inside the damned Superstore. The store turned us into stock. Then the RV-tree preserved what was left of our souls."

He nodded slowly, then turned to Sentinel-Kaledonya and Sentinel-Kirra. "And you two?"

"Same," Kirra replied. “We were… taking things from the store, bringing them into Ferguson.”

Kaledonya simply nodded with a smile.

“That’s…”

“Incredibly illegal,” both Kristis spoke together. 

“It doomed Ferguson,” Candace nodded. “Everyone in town died. Ferguson 2.0 is currently behind us and we must not allow it to fall.”

"I see." The raptor patriarch stepped back, orange, slitted eyes scanning the undead versions of his daughters. "Then I'm glad you're here. Even if you're..." He gestured vaguely at Sentinel-Kaledonya's cardboard construction.

"Dimensionally challenged?" she offered.

"I was going to say 'unconventional,' but yes."

"Hi dad!" Sentinel-Kaledonya bounced forward, caution bars rattling. "Can we stay? Please? We promise not to scare the neighbors! We'll be super good guardians!"

"Urm. Fine," he said. "But you're all registering with the Rangers. I'm not having unauthorized Sentinels running around Ferguson."

"Yass. They'll get badges and everything!" Candace promised. "Very official. We can laminate them. Anyways, let’s dig in, the food’s getting cold!"

Everyone migrated toward the picnic tables. The Whitepaw twins immediately claimed spots close to the Sentinels, peppering them with questions about the Superstore and what it’s like to be a domain Sentinel.

Aelianne Rhinehart sat primly at one end of the longest table. Principal Kerberos took the opposite end. Professor Fern positioned herself near the middle, sending me curious glances.

Goebel had positioned himself near Aelianne, answering her questions in a soft murmur. The shark bodyguard—Makki, I remembered—kept scanning the perimeter, clearly uncomfortable with how many high-value targets were clustered in one unprotected location. Well, protected by a single barrier obelisk and millions of magic bees, but I understood her concern.

Rex and Natalie Whitepaw sat with their twins. Rex kept glancing at Sentinel-Nessy with an expression somewhere between fascination and parental worry. Natalie had brought the pot roast in a massive insulated container, which now sat on the condiment table next to five types of BBQ sauce.

"This is nice!" Miles announced through a mouthful of burger. "We should do family dinners here all the time!"

"We're not making this a regular thing," Rex said.

"Why not?"

“The wild zone is very dangerous,” the eldest husky replied.

“Yeah, but look at all these defence bees,” the female husky twin pointed out. 

“Come on dad, ain’t nothing gonna get through this many sentinels,” the female husky twin added.

Rex sighed.

Lord Marshal Strand sat beside his daughter, the living one that is. Kristi had gone rigid the moment he settled next to her.

"Krysanthea," he said.

"Father." She didn't look at him.

"We're going to talk about the Decimator and the ancestral rifle you stole from the estate."

“Borrowed!” Candace commented. “We borrowed the rifle and glider to help Administrator Kerberos with clearing a local dungeon full of Astral parasite infected monks. Isn’t that right, Administator?”

Kerberos nodded. Lord Marshal fell into a contemplative silence.

Adelle claimed a spot beside Professor Fern and TA Marlena, methodically working through an extra-large steak. 

Candace loaded her plate with everything—meat, vegetables, three types of potato salad, and half a loaf of bread.

The fox stood up, tapping her wine glass again. "Since we're all here, and we're all enjoying excellent BBQ, we have an announcement!"

Every conversation died. All eyes turned to the silver fox standing on the bench, wine glass raised high.

"My lovely pack has solved the Magnetic Lynx problem!" She gestured at me. "Our lovely Alpha will now explain how we're going to save Ferguson from complete annihilation!"

I stood up slowly, feeling the weight of every stare. The Lord Marshal's sharp, orange eyes cut through me like lasers through tissue paper.

"Right," I said. "So. I'm Alec Foster. I've been in Ferguson for..."

"Less than a week," Lord Marshal Strand stated, cutting me off. His tail swept once behind him. "Mr. Foster, I've received quite the report about you. Multiple reports, in fact. From Principal Kerberos, Instructor Fern, Ranger Captain Vorshk, from my own Scrutimancer division." He placed both clawed hands flat on the table. "They all say the same thing—that you're entangled with an Impossible Quest from the Butcher of Delvers herself. A Quest that concludes with your death and the deaths of everyone in Ferguson and its total obliteration."

All of the adult prads present paled or choked, looking shocked.

I nodded. "That's accurate."

More horrified prad noises.

“You’re certain in this assessment, Lord Marshal?” Candace’s mother asked.

"Quite certain. The most likely outcome suggests that everyone dies. There is no amicable solution to this problem. My Scrutimancers have examined the situation from every conceivable angle. We've modeled scenarios, consulted with Seers, reviewed every historical record of Highway Sixty-Nine survivors—all three of them, none of whom actually reached the end,” the elder raptor stated.

"What's your current plan then?" Aelianne asked, her hands trembling visibly.

The Marshal's beak clicked. "My Scrutimancers and Seers maintain constant Astral surveillance on the Lynx's domain. The moment she moves toward Ferguson, we initiate full evacuation protocols. Every resident gets transported through dimensional gates to Omnithornia.”

“Omnithornia will aid us?” Aelianne let out.

“We have standing arrangements with Omnid Superstate for temporary emergency refugee housing, yes."

"Which will put all of Ferguson residents into great debt with the Omnids?" Candace asked.

"Correct," Lord Marshal stated. “I suspect that many of them will not return. The Frontenachii Agent I spoke with has already prepared permanent relocation contracts for the most… promising employees.” 

"The Omnid Administration will help save everyone in the city." Principal Kerberos nodded. "For a price."

"And Ferguson itself?" I asked.

"Administrator Kerberos will deploy his… full offensive capability." The Marshal gestured to the Omnid. "Which… will reduce the valley and most of the citadel to molten slag with dragonfire but should be sufficient to stop a single Sentinel, no matter how powerful."

"My mother would be quite disappointed if I destroyed her second-favorite Earth city," Kerberos commented mildly. "But yes, I could accomplish it."

"Once the threat is neutralized," the Marshal continued, "we return and rebuild. Probably closer to Cascade."

I processed this. "So your plan is: run away, burn everything, start over."

"Crude summary, but accurate." The Marshal's orange eyes didn't blink.

“So we do have a way out?” Aelianne asked. 

“Correct.”

“Then why the ‘everyone dies’ conclusion?” She snarled. “Why does my best Scrut keep insisting that shit too?” She waved a white paw at Goebel.

“Presumably that’s my fault,” Candace grinned. 

“WHAT?” Aelianne’s head snapped to her daughter. 

“Everyone must die for everyone to survive,” Candace stated as if she was a court wizard revealing the secrets of the universe.

The gathered prads stared at her with looks of disbelief.

“What my Binder means to say,” I said. “Is that we have a solution to the problem of the Butcher of Delvers.”

“And not just her!” Candace bobbed. 

“A solution to every dangerous entity gunning for Ferguson in the future,” Nessy stated.

“What could five teenage delvers possibly offer that the Ferguson Administration is incapable of?” Aelianne barked.

Nessy’s parents nodded in agreement.

The raptor mafia boss who owned most of Ferguson stared at me, expecting an explanation.

114: The Ferguson Plan

I held Lord Marshal Strand's unwieldy stare. Beside me, Candace's tail swished once.

"We conquered a dungeon today," I said. "The Nameless Mall."

Rex Whitepaw blinked. "The what?"

"There's no such dungeon in the local registry," Fern stated.

"That's because it exists in another dimension, on a dead, entropy-infected Earth," I explained. "One where Systemfall consumed everything."

Aelianne's claws clicked against the table. "You're telling me you left Ferguson, traveled to another dimension, and conquered a dungeon there? In less than a day?"

"Technically several dimensions," Candace corrected. "We fell into Eureka first, then visited Alec's Earth, then we found this amazing movie theater with tickets that screw around with reality—"

"Candace," her mother cut her off. "Please let Mr. Foster explain."

I nodded. "We went to Cascade this morning after breakfast. Then, the flooded ruins of Denver."

"Denver's a fairly mundane tourist trap," Lord Marshal commented. "There are no dimensional gates there."

"Usually, yes," I agreed. "But Candace used her Binding magic to turn herself into a registered lawyer of Denver's legal system."

"She bound herself to… Denver?" the Omnid blinked.

"A lawyer," I repeated. "of Denver."

"Denver didn't like that one bit," Candace nodded. “She woke up.”

"Candace..." The elder fox hissed.

"I filed a lawsuit against Denver for violating our reality," Candace continued brightly. "Then tortured the city's Lawyer-Sentinel with dragons until he gave us vault coordinates for the Sword of Everglade. After that, Denver tried to kill us."

Aelianne's claws dug into the picnic table. "You did WHAT?"

Lord Marshal Strand leaned forward, feathery mane fluttering. "Miss Rhinehart. You're telling me you woke Denver. The Denver. The dungeon that consumed half the United States in 1989."

"Just a little bit," Candace held up her claws, pinching them together. "Teeny tiny awakening. Barely noticeable."

"The death toll from Denver's manifestation and bloom was millions of humans and pradavarians," Rex Whitepaw said quietly.

"Yep," Candace nodded. "I sued it about that. Wanted to see if I could win."

"And did you win?" Kerberos asked slyly.

"Nope," Candace grinned. "Denver sent us to her... dimension."

"That's where we discovered that Denver is actually a part of the dead shell of Number Four," Kristi revealed. “The Infinite city.”

Kerberos's smile vanished. Reality around him dimmed. The glass he was holding detonated. He stared at us. "What?" He let out.

The fox and raptor looked at the Omnid Administrator, shocked by the look of pure terror in his eyes.

"Number Four?" Lord Marshal repeated, orange eyes flicking between us and Kerberos. "What is Number Four?"

The Principal didn't answer. His shadow split into three distinct pieces that writhed independently across the ground. The bulbees nearest to him flickered on and off.

"Kerberos," Fern said carefully. "What are they talking about?"

"The Law," I said, filling the silence. "Number Four. Eureka. A god-like entity. Denver is a fragment of it. When Candace woke up Denver, we got pulled into the heart of Eureka."

"You went to.... Eureka," Kerberos said flatly. "And you... survived? How?"

"We put our souls into Kristi," Candace explained. "She flew us on the Nemesis!"

“Yes. We…” I slowly and clearly explained how Kristi piloted the glider through endless corridors that kept rearranging themselves. How we ended up on a dead Earth where Archmage Calvin runs his concept farm. How his assistant Manny suggested we consolidate Candace's lawsuit against Denver with an existing case to avoid Eureka's enforcement division.

How Calvin sent us to the Nameless Mall to gather ingredients for dimensional chalk. How the mall existed at the edge of Eureka, populated by First Person Hunters that consumed consciousness. How we befriended sentient shops and got trapped in a funnel-simulation as our younger selves. 

How Candace bound the mall’s simulation, allowing us to gather understanding of its function through multiple resets. How we created dimensional chalk and eventually lured all the First Person Hunters through a dimensional door to the Leviathan's Cradle at reality's end, where they dissolved. And finally, how the four pradavarian girls merged into their true form before creating our escape route back to the Superstore.

Then I summarized how we found the RV and brought it home to Ferguson.

The assembled adults sat in stunned silence. The Whitepaw twins had stopped eating, burger halves suspended halfway to their mouths.

“You're the… Leviathan and Slayer?” Kerberos stared at us

We nodded.

The Omnid swallowed. 

"That's..." Rex Whitepaw started, then stopped. His glasses reflected myriads of bulbee lights as he stared at me. "You're saying you conquered a mall that exists outside normal reality?"

"Yep," Candace said. "It's fully ours now. We can deploy it anywhere we desire."

"Anywhere?" Lord Marshal Strand asked.

"Anywhere," I agreed. "Specifically, we can deploy it in Ferguson, bind it to the Ward defense obelisks."

The raptor patriarch's orange eyes narrowed. "Explain."

"The Nameless Mall exists as a pocket dimension now," I said. "Candace can anchor it to physical locations using her Binding magic. If we bind it to Ferguson's Ward system, we can create a… dimensional overlay of sorts."

"Two Fergusons," Candace added, bouncing on her bench. "One on top, one underneath. Like a sandwich!"

"A sandwich," Lord Marshal Strand repeated flatly.

"The Ward obelisks already create a protective barrier around Ferguson," I explained. "We can use that existing magical infrastructure as anchor points for the Nameless Mall dimension."

Candace pulled out a napkin and started sketching with a claw dipped in sauce. "See? Ferguson sits here." She drew a circle. "The Ward creates this bubble of protection." Another circle on another napkin. "We bind the Mall dimension to the same anchor points, creating a second Ferguson that exists in parallel space." She slid one napkin under the other, letting the sauce seep through.

"Two cities occupying the same coordinates but in different dimensional layers," Principal Kerberos murmured. "A... dimensional defense?"

"When danger approaches," I continued, "the ward activates."

"Like flipping a light switch," Candace added. "Except instead of light, it's reality. Ferguson Prime gets tucked safely away in storage while Ferguson Copy takes the hit."

Lord Marshal Strand's claws drummed against the table. "You want to create... a decoy city?"

"A fully functional parallel Ferguson generated by the Nameless Mall." I stated. “Set in… 2024.”

“Why 2024?” Kerberos asked.

“Because our original Ferguson existed in 2024,” Nessy explained. “Before everyone there died horribly. All of us remember it really well.”

"When the Lynx eventually shows up to murder everyone," Candace continued with a cheeky grin, "she'll be murdering dungeon manifested copies instead of real people!"

Aelianne's white paw shot up to her chest. "You want to... create fake versions of us?"

"Not fake," I corrected. "Simulations. The Mall generates them based on actual memories. They'll look, sound, and behave exactly like real Ferguson residents."

"But they're not real," Rex Whitepaw said slowly.

"They'll be real and also not real," Candace said.

"What?" Rex blinked.

"A Schrodinger's cat scenario," Nessy stated. "Except within the city ward."

"So we'll all be quantum-dead?" Miles Whitepaw asked, tail wagging rapidly. "That's the coolest thing I've ever heard!"

"Miles!" His mother's ears flattened. "That is not cool!"

"But Mom, we'd be alive AND dead! That's super rad!"

"The boy has a point," Principal Kerberos mused. "Quantum mortality. What a delightful paradox."

Lord Marshal Strand's tail swept once. "Mr. Foster, let me understand this correctly. You want to create a duplicate Ferguson populated by dungeon-Mall-generated entities. When the Lynx attacks, she'll slaughter these duplicates while the real citizens remain safe in the original dimension."

"Exactly," I confirmed.

"And the Lynx won't notice she's killing simulations instead of actual citizens?" Lord Marshal asked.

"They're not exactly Mall-generated," Candace said. "They'll be dimensional copies of real people living in Ferguson… connected to real people. We kinda killed the First Person Hunters who did that job."

Nessy spoke. "What Candace means is that the dimensional copies will be real enough. They'll actually be you, have your memories, your feelings, your connections to each other. When the Lynx attacks and kills someone in the duplicate Ferguson, that person will… experience dying."

"That sounds terrible," Natalie said with a frown.

"It will be terrible," Nessy agreed. "Dying hurts. It's scary. It's awful. But here's the key part: you won't stay dead."

She looked around the table, meeting each set of eyes in turn.

"Once the Lynx leaves, thinking she's completed her massacre, we flip the switch again!" The husky stated.

"And everyone who died in the simulation-manifested Ferguson wakes up in their real bodies, perfectly fine.” Candace revealed. “Every building can be destroyed and also survive! No permanent physical damage!"

"Except to our mental health," Aelianne muttered into her wine glass.

Lord Marshal frowned. "And the psychological trauma? You're proposing we let every citizen of Ferguson experience their own deaths."

"Yes," I admitted. "That part's not great."

"'Not great,'" the raptor patriarch repeated. "Mr. Foster, I've commanded soldiers who've been gravely injured, and were resurrected by healers, brought back from death. The psychological damage from that experience is often substantial. PTSD. Night terrors. Existential dread. You're suggesting we inflict that on every man, woman, and child in Ferguson?"

I took a breath. "The alternative is actual permanent death. For everyone."

"Or enslavement of many by Omnid corporations," Nessy glared at Kerberos.

The Omnid ignored the husky.

"We don't really know the psychologic effects of dying as a dimensional duplicate," Candace stated. "It might not be so bad. We can fiddle with the simulation... adjust parameters. Optimize things."

"We can start with a small simulation," I offered. "As a test. A single apartment."

"Who's apartment?" Rex asked.

"Mine," Nessy raised her paw.

Rex's glasses slipped down his snout. "Absolutely not!"

"Dad, it makes sense," the husky girl insisted. "I've already died once in another timeline in 2024. I know exactly what to expect."

"That doesn't make it better!" Rex protested.

"Dying's not so bad," Nessy said.

"That's a terrible sales pitch, sweetheart," Natalie said weakly.

Miles raised his hand. "Can I die too? For science?"

"NO," both his parents barked in unison.

"But if Nessy gets to try it—"

"Nessy is an adult who can make her own terrible decisions," Rex said through gritted teeth. "You're fourteen."

"Fourteen and a half," Miles corrected.

"Still no."

Roxy leaned over to her brother. "We could just sneak into her apartment when it happens."

"I heard that," Natalie said, pointing a claw at Roxy. "Nobody is sneaking anywhere."

"But Moooom—"

"No buts. We're not turning family visits into a death experiment!"

"It won't be a death experiment," Candace said. "Just an experiment of attaching the Nameless Mall to the second floor of a mechanic's shop. All of us will be volunteer test subjects."

"Count me in," Terry said around a mouthful of steak. "Dying while stayin’ alive sounds metal."

“I'm in too,” Marlena agreed. “I want to help protect our town.”

"Nobody's dying!" Candace repeated. "It's just a test! We can... uhh... use paintball guns on each other to see how much pain actually translates between the two dimensional variations!"

"Paintball guns," Lord Marshal Strand repeated, his voice flat.

"High-velocity tactical paintball guns," Candace clarified, making finger guns at him. "Pew pew!"

“Can we join?” The undead Vivianne asked.

“Obviously!” Candace nodded. “I'm doing this for you, most of all, my undead frens. You're going to be 100% alive in the sim!”

The Sentinels exchanged excited glances and smiles.

"The psychological effects of simulated death aside," Principal Kerberos interjected, "there's a more fundamental question. Miss Rhinehart, you're proposing to bind an entire pocket dimension to Ferguson's Ward network. Do you have any idea how much magical energy that would require?"

"Lots?" Candace offered.

"To maintain a stable dimensional overlay on a city of seven thousand residents and Omnid tourists?" the Omnid asked. "You'd need to channel enough mana to power a small dungeon core. Continuously."

"Good thing we have a small dungeon core then!" Candace grinned. “The Mall feeds on memories. We can have citizens and tourists donate their memories for protection.”

Aelianne mentally chewed on the proposal. "You want to harvest memories from Ferguson's population?"

"Not harvest!" Candace protested. "Trade! Very different! Harvesting implies theft. This is a voluntary exchange of memories for not-dying services!"

"What kind of memories?" Rex Whitepaw asked cautiously.

"Unimportant ones," Candace revealed. "The Mall doesn't need your wedding day or your children's first steps. It can feed on perfectly mundane things. Your morning commute. The taste of yesterday's coffee. The plot of that book you read last month and already mostly forgot."

"Things you'd lose anyway," Nessy added. "The Mall simply speeds up the natural forgetting process. It could be bad memories too. Like stubbing your foot on a table. Or stepping on a lego.”

“The memory donation helps establish the simulated world,” Candace explained. “More donations create a more solid fake reality.”

“Just one problem. Citadel wards must be standard, approved and tested rigorously. The Pradavarian Senate…” Lord Marshal began.

“Is irrelevant,” Candace said. “The true power who makes the decisions on city defenses is the local Omnid Administrator.” She pointed a claw at Kerberos. “So, what do you say, dawg-baws? Are you gonna allow us to do this? Let me bind Fergunson to a dimensional dungeon?”