The aftermath of the battle blurred into a montage of weary looting.

  With the help of my Rat Pack, we shifted through the destruction in a daze, reclaiming mutilated Horrors, salvaging whatever gear we could, and looting Relics. The spoils of war all sorted into neat, bloody piles for transport. There was no trace of the hydra—it had winked out of existence with Oz’s death, along with the horde of flying monkeys. It was a crying shame, though I figured the real prize wasn’t some carcass—even a powerful one.

  It was the Network itself.

  James Graham—Christopher Robin, Oz the Terrible, or whatever the hell his name really was—had left behind his own collection of trophies. A handful of battered Artifacts and some obscenely powerful Relics, including a particularly nasty one called Soul Jar. I tucked all of them away. Something to deal with later, when I wasn’t half-dead.

  For now, I just wanted to go home.

  But, despite our desire to leave the crumbling cathedral behind, we took a few minutes to hold an impromptu funeral for the old man. Everyone was anxious to leave, but Pooh deserved to have some closure. Burying the body was out of the question, so instead I pulled some scrap wood from Spatial Storage and we built a pyre, then carefully laid the body out on top.

  Pooh said a few words as the body burned and crackled.

  “Oh, dear me, I’m not very good at this sort of thing,” the little bear started. “Saying goodbye is always hard. But Christopher Robin was my friend, and he deserves more than rotting here in the dark. Though he did some very bad things, he wasn’t a bad man. Just a lost little boy who was forced to grow up too fast. Once, long, long ago, Christopher Robin made me promise that I would never forget about him. Not even when he was a hundred.”

  Pooh held up the Polaroid and caressed the surface longingly with one paw.

  “And I won’t. But this is how I choose to remember him,” the bear continued. “Not as the evil man who lost his way, but as a friend who gave me stories and made the world a little less dark. Even when the 10,000 Acre Wood grew quiet, he was there. Watching over me.” He sniffled, his button eyes reflecting the blaze. “He might be gone now, but that is not such a bad thing, I think. Everyone dies eventually and he died well, doing what was right in the end.”

  The fire popped, spitting embers into the air. No one spoke for a long moment, then Temp stood and moved to the edge of the firelight. She looked at us, then at the flames, and finally at Pooh. “I’d like to say something, if that’s alright.”

  Pooh nodded, his stitched smile trembling.

  “I’ve spent a long time believing the past was a chain,” Temp said quietly. “Every mistake, every trauma, every ghost. I thought they defined me. That the only way to be free of them was to lock them away. But standing here, I realize I don’t have to carry that weight forever. The past can shape us without owning us.” She swallowed hard. “Sometimes, letting go means embracing what has been, despite its flaws and pains.”

  She hesitated, then almost laughed at herself. “When I was a girl, I used to sing in the church choir. It was one of the simple joys that filled an otherwise bleak life with pleasure.” Her eyes flickered toward me. “But I haven’t sung since the night my friends and family tried to burn me at the stake. I swore I never would again. But tonight…” She drew in a shaky breath. “Tonight I think it matters.”

  And then, soft at first but steady, she began to sing.

  “Abide with me! fast falls the eventide;

  The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide!

  When other helpers fail and comforts flee,

  Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me.”

  Her voice cracked on the first line, but she kept going, louder now, the words intermingling with the rising smoke.

  “Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;

  Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away;

  Change and decay in all around I see;

  O Thou who changest not, abide with me.”

  By the time she reached the last verse, even the fire seemed to grow quiet and listen.

  “I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless:

  Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness:

  Where is death’s sting? where, grave, thy victory?

  I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.”

  The hymn faded, leaving only the pop of flames and the smell of ash. Pooh waddled over and wrapped tiny arms around her leg.

  “Thank you,” the bear said, tears rimming his marble eyes. “I think he would’ve loved that.”

  Her shoulders sagged and her body softened as she patted the little bear on the head. “Of course,” she said. “Now please stop touching me. This much vulnerability is making me feel a little sick.”

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  I chuckled despite the grim circumstances. The comment was so perfectly Temp.

  With the funeral done, we all crammed into the secret Network compartment, shoulder to shoulder, every breath warm and sour with exhaustion. We were a fragrant-smelling bunch, all desperately in need of showers and laundry services.

  Once everyone was in place, I accessed my minimap and carefully selected the small kiosk chamber, before triggering Corvo’s Blanket Fort in an effort to annex the space. I held my breath, afraid it wasn’t going to work, then sighed in relief when the familiar prompt appeared.

  You’ve selected 2,600 square feet of eligible Progenerated Material Resource Space. Would you like to use Corvo’s Blanket Fort to convert the selected material into a Personal Superspace Dwelling? You will have 160,717 available square feet remaining at your current Variant Assimilation Level. Proceed Yes/No?

  Holy shit.

  Thanks to my Expansionist Perk and all the levels I’d racked up over the past few weeks, my available square footage had absolutely skyrocketed. Now that we’d put the Franchisor to rest—slowing the Monarch’s advance in the process—it was probably time I set to work on expanding the store in earnest. I just needed to unlock the Modular Replication feature and then I’d be able to turn the storefront from an off-brand Walgreens into a bona fide city.

  But that was something that could wait for another day.

  I hit “Yes,” and the world lurched as the Kiosk headquarters was neatly cut out of the 99th floor and pasted onto my store.

  We piled out of the cramped room—a fact my nose was eternally grateful for—and were greeted by the very welcome sight of stretching aisles, all clean and neatly stocked, and a sea of happy shoppers. Howlers and 49ners, all perusing my wares, rubbing shoulders, even sharing meals. After the corporate hellscape of Steamboat Studios and the horrors of the Gluttonarium, the sight genuinely warmed my heart.

  Steamboat Studios was what you got when unfettered capitalism started freebasing crack and got its hands on power tools. And sure, I wasn’t opposed to making a reasonable profit, but I knew damn well that was the cliff I needed to steer clear of.

  Despite being dirty and covered in dried blood, Harper was practically beaming.

  “Anyone up for a little we-didn’t-get-eviscerated-by-sentient-corporate-branding celebration party?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow as she looked at each of us in turn. “Because I could use a gallon of beer and something good to eat. I don’t know what it is, but there’s just something about narrowly escaping death that always makes me hungry.”

  “An entire bathtub worth of hard liquor sounds like an excellent idea,” Temperance said before faltering. “Unfortunately, the demands of a Room Keeper Commander never stop. I need to check in with the others—see how our war against the Red Hands is progressing and give them an update about…” She faltered. “Well, all of this,” she finished, gesturing broadly at the newest addition to the store. “Now that Dan controls the Kiosk, it changes everything. But,” she said after a pause, “I might join you later. Once I’ve given new marching orders.”

  “Fine,” Harper replied with a sigh, “I’ll mark you down as a maybe. Jakob?” she asked, sounding hopeful.

  The Cendral seesawed his head for a moment before agreeing with a smile. “Na klar, warum nicht?” he replied. “I will never say no to beer. And I owe you one, for this.” He held up his arm, a faint pink line of scar tissue showcasing where the limb had been severed and reattached.

  Harper snorted. “Listen, the arm is on the house,” she said, “but if we’re keeping score, then you owe me about a million beers for all the times I patched your ass up back there. Though I guess we can call it a wash, since you single-handedly tanked a level 70 hydra. That’s got to count for something.” She turned her gaze on me. “What about you, Mr. Big Shot Kiosk Owner? Care to join? Maybe we can even make a proper date out of it, if you’re interested.”

  I gave it some real thought. Hot food, cold beer, and a beautiful woman sounded like heaven after the hell we’d just slogged through. But in the end I just grimaced, offered an apologetic shake of my head, and said no.

  “Let’s call it a rain check?” I added. “There is honestly nothing I’d rather do, but I’ve got something important I need to take care of first.”

  She shrugged. “Your loss—I was even going to pay.” She smirked, too tired to make it sting. “If you change your mind, I’ll be at the bar getting very drunk. And I’d love to hear about what possessed you to turn your body into a literal cannonball. What about you, Croc?” she asked. “You in or what?”

  “Sorry,” Croc said, “but where Dan goes, I go. I am man’s best friend, after all.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Pooh piped up, paw tugging at her sleeve. “That is… if it’s not too much of a bother.”

  Harper crouched, smiling softer now, and took his paw. “Not a bother at all. It’d be an honor to share a meal with a true gentleman.”

  I watched the three of them head off, talking and laughing, and a small part of me regretted not going with them. But I’d made a promise, and after everything that happened tonight, I wasn’t about to put it off any longer.

  Croc’s googly eyes swiveled toward me, the mimic’s head cocked to the side. “Well, Dan, what now? I’ll admit, getting a bite to eat sounds nice, but if there’s work to be done, then I’m your dog. So, what’s the plan? Do we need to go crack some skulls? Sort through Relics? Fill out corporate paperwork, now that you’re a big-time Franchise owner? Maybe give Ponypuff a talk on boundaries and what constitutes a hostile work environment?”

  I shook my head, a grin tugging at my cracked lips. “No. Something more important.”

  “What could be more important than that stuff, Dan? Especially the bit about Ponypuff.”

  I thought about the Franchisor. How he’d let the mission eat him alive, how he’d forgotten the point of surviving in the first place. Grinding was important. But so was living.

  “I need you to raid the fridge,” I said solemnly. “Grab as much Froyo as you can carry. Then meet me back down here.”

  Croc blinked, confused. “Uh… why?”

  “Because,” I said, grinning wider, “I promised to take you on those slides back in the Loot Arcade and I aim to make sure you have the best night of your life.”

  The dog’s googly eyes went wide in delighted surprise. “Really, Dan? Do you really mean it?”

  “Friends don’t lie to friends,” I said. “Now get moving, those slides aren’t gonna ride themselves.”

  THE END