Marcus narrowed his eyes after hearing Elias Crowe wanted to follow the Hounds to the capital. "You sure about that?"
Elias didn't flinch. "I have nothing left here. If the government still has a purpose, I'll find mine in it."
Marcus studied him for a moment, weighing the words. Elias had turned them away once, back when Oyster Bay still stood. He had chosen to protect his own and let the rest fend for themselves. Now, with nothing left, he was asking to walk beside them. Reporting that to the capital would not be easy.
"You can come," Marcus said at last. "The government will assess you once we're back, decide where you fit and what you're capable of. Just don't expect special treatment."
"I won't," Elias said quickly. There was no hesitation in his tone, only the weight of someone who had lost everything and needed a new place to stand.
That was that. Elias Crowe, once the mayor of a safe zone, would now be judged like any other stray survivor when they reached the capital.
Bryan kept poking around the private group functions until a new option caught his eye. "Conference…?" He tapped it, and a window opened in front of him. It wasn't just text or markers on a map anymore. This was live video.
One by one, the others accepted the prompt and their faces appeared in separate frames. For the first time since the Pink Fog had spread, it felt like an actual meeting room, like a proper conference call pulled straight out of the old world.
Marcus leaned closer to his feed, testing the clarity. "The video is clear. Comms are good on our end."
"Clear here too," Noah added, his group gathered close to their own display.
The novelty of it wasn't lost on anyone. They had gone months relying on short bursts of comms, radio static, or running back and forth with messages. Now they could look each other in the eye, though only inside the Pink Fog. The conference feature didn't work in safe zones, which made it useful but also risky.
The groups began to split, each heading in their own direction. Some toward safety, others toward another fight.
Thomas's crew watched them go.
"So, what's our plan?" Nevin asked, shifting his stance.
Thomas stretched and grinned. "We walk our own path. Like always."
No more goodbyes were needed. They crossed into the fog, leaving the safe zone behind. By the time the others had disappeared, their focus was already ahead. The road took them to a smaller settlement, just a stopover, another waypoint.
Nevin let out a breath. "So, we're really doing this? Just us?"
Thomas gave him a look. "You having second thoughts?"
"Hell no," Nevin smirked. "Just making sure you're not."
Iris crossed her arms, watching the buildings roll past. "It's weird. We went through all that, fought together, nearly died, and now everyone's just… gone. Back to their own paths."
"That's how it goes," Bryan said. "You stick with the ones you trust. Hopefully 'the Web' keeps the rest close when it counts." He had changed the name of the private group chat himself, saying it fit since everyone was tied together like strands on a net.
Thomas stretched his arms overhead with a lazy grin. "Cool. Group hug over? We've got the interface's shiny new chat room, we're alive, no need to drag this out like some tragic farewell episode."
Bryan shot him a look. "Says the guy who keeps checking the group chat like someone's gonna message and say they miss you. You're more dramatic than the rest of us."
Thomas shrugged. "Hey, maybe they forgot something. Could've left a sock behind. Important stuff like that."
Bryan exhaled. "Reasons."
They passed through the settlement without stopping. It was just a waypoint, nothing more. Their mission stayed the same: get Iris back to her parents. Everything else was secondary.
They were on the move again. Iris drove while Thomas and Bryan walked in the fog alongside the Hammer. It was unusual, since Thomas was usually the one driving. He had never walked outside to escort the vehicle before.
Thomas kept fiddling with the private group chat, which Bryan noticed through his own interface when he saw Thomas's status blinking online.
Another user popped up. Marcus. He went live the moment he saw them both online.
"Can you hear me?" Marcus's voice came through clear.
Bryan tapped live and answered. "Loud and clear."
"Good. We just ran into scavengers in the fog. Some were still human, others already in Glint form. They didn't attack us, but it was clear what they were doing. They wait on the road and stick up anyone who passes. Watch yourselves, there could be more around."
Thomas joined the feed. "Or, hear me out, we just go over there and take their stuff."
Marcus started to reply, but Bryan jumped in first. "Absolutely not. The whole point of 'the Web' is to avoid making pointless enemies."
Thomas shrugged. "Okay, fine, whatever. But if they come after us first, I think we can…"
"Still no," Bryan cut him off.
Thomas frowned. "I wasn't done talking."
"I'm muting you," Bryan warned, half serious. As one of the group's creators, he could actually do it.
Thomas huffed, muttering, "Fine. But if they come after us first, you can't stop me from fighting scavengers."
Another window lit up. Noah. "Okada Family will have a food-sharing banquet at our home. We lost two, but most of us made it through, and that's worth celebrating. Everyone is invited to join. We're also recruiting new members for the family if anyone wants to settle in a base."
"Good to know," Bryan said with a nod.
The conference went quiet for a few seconds before Marcus spoke again, like he had just remembered something. "One more thing. If you run into Red Hands, don't engage. Just report it."
Thomas rolled his eyes. "Sure, I'll just wave at them and walk right past."
Bryan muted his mic mid-sentence. "No, you won't."
Thomas blinked, then turned to glare at him. "Did you just…?"
Bryan smirked. "You've lost your talking privileges for the next five minutes."
Marcus ignored them and continued. "They're looking for someone, hunting them, and I don't think it's Fades."
That shut everyone up.
Thomas relayed the warning to Iris and Nevin, who couldn't access the interface inside the vehicle. He was muted anyway.
Iris tightened her grip on the wheel. "Then we'd better stay out of their way."
Nevin glanced at Thomas. "So, you got a plan?"
Thomas grinned, spreading his hands. "Same as always. Move forward, deal with whatever's in the way."
Nevin chuckled, shaking his head. "That's not a plan."
"Yeah, but it's working so far." Thomas kept walking, unfazed.
With that, the conference ended and the crew disappeared down the road.
As they passed through the settlement, Thomas slowed his steps. Near the gate, a cluster of figures stood out from the usual flow of travelers. At first, he assumed they were just another group of survivors checking in, nothing worth his attention. Then he noticed the emblem on their jackets.
Red Hands.
Bryan, who had been scanning the street with his usual sharp eye, stiffened. "We've got a problem."
The Red Hands weren't trying to stay hidden. They were planted at the entrance, speaking with the local guards. One of them pulled out a sketch, holding it up for the guards to see. The paper caught the light, enough for Thomas to recognize the shape. A tall figure, broad shoulders, rough hair, the kind of face no one would mistake once they had seen it. It was him.
Another man unrolled a second sheet, and this one made Iris's breath catch. The drawing was rough, but the details were enough to strike home. The horns, the glowing eyes, the runes carved across thick arms and chest. Even in crude lines, it was his Oni form.
"They're looking for a big guy," Iris whispered. "The devil."
Thomas gave her a sideways grin. "Well, I do stand out."
Nevin did not grin back. His gaze stayed fixed on the guards now leaning closer to the sketches. "Yeah, and they're not looking to compliment you. We need to move before they connect the dots."
The truth came together quickly. The safe zone Thomas had torn through in his Oni form had been marked with Red Hands graffiti. At the time, they had brushed it off, thinking the group was nothing more than local bullies using the name. Weak imitators who preyed on smaller groups. They had assumed the larger Red Hands would never care about what happened to a handful of nobodies.
They had been wrong.
The sketches proved that much. Someone had taken the time to spread word about Thomas, both his human appearance and his monstrous form. That meant messengers, descriptions, orders passed down through the chain. And now the real Red Hands had picked up the trail.
Bryan's voice cut through the tension, low but firm. "We need to move. Now. Before they realize we're standing right here."
No one argued. The Red Hands were not searching for a nameless target. They were searching for Thomas.