---

“Grinders?”

“Yeah!” The driver of the truck, Pete being his name (as in Butcher Pete), replied, “Don’t let the name fool ya, we ain’t bandits. We just went with it ‘cause of how we set things up. Butchery up north in Maine, we call it the Chop Shop. Manned, fortified, the good stuff! We head south all the time to gather up meat, everything else up north is dry.” He motioned his thumb towards the bundle of corpses in the back. “As you can see, my huntin’ trip’s been good, brother-man!”

“Looks like it.” Bozak replied, glancing at the cargo. He was seated in the passenger seat while Atlas had the tight space of the back for himself. He turned back to Pete and abruptly asked, “Any human meat going into Grinders’ Chop Shop?”

“Nah!” Pete replied, not even offended, “Everybody knows human meat gives ya them shakes somethin’ bad. Makes ya jumpy, an’ stupid. Grinders’ got the good mind not to chomp any fellas anyway.” He chuckled a bit, then turned his head towards the glove compartment in front of Bozak. “Hey, pop that open, have a snack! Always take some with me for the trips!”

Bozak turned his head towards the glove compartment and popped it open. Lo and behold, the inside was stuffed with bundles of jerkies, patties, and tenders, all either wrapped or bound or boxed up. Meat. Glorious, glorious meat. Almost brought a tear to Bozak’s eye.

“Pete okay with Bozak, eh… digging in?”

“Yeah, yeah, brother-man!” Pete replied, “Take all you want, plenty back at the Chop Shop!” Bozak was about ready to hug the man as he shoved his hand into the glove compartment, tossing bundle after bundle into his satchel. He grabbed two cooked patties and fed them to Atlas, who was equally happy about everything. This man Pete, riding through town with a truck full of gas and meat, was an emissary from the Promised Land that is the Chop Shop. And Bozak wanted to know more about the place.

“What is Chop Shop like?” Bozak asked, buttoning his satchel after taking a good bit, but not all, of the glove compartment’s contents.

“Great place!” Pete replied, “Nice and big. We moved in after we came from out west some six years ago. Boarded it up, got the power runnin’, been our own bloody little heaven ever since!”

“Any trouble with raiders?”

“Used to be that way. Mainly it was this group from Boston callin’ ‘emselves the Bloodbacks. THEY were nasty. And some Wolves came around later but, we got ‘em to fuck off too.”

“Wolves?”

“Yeah, just some cunts wearin’ stupid masks. Popular in the Big Apple, but they spread themselves out too much. They do all the usual stuff, puttin’ heads on pikes and shit. Doesn’t faze anyone’s been out west though, like we have. WAY worse stuff out there, like Firehorse, and the Holiday Man.”

“Bozak know Firehorse. They were in southeast places, burning things.”

“Really? Damn, they’re gettin’ around!”

The two continued to banter as the pickup made its way northward, shoving cars aside. Bozak was glad to have a ride and food, and Atlas was just glad for the food. Pete? Pete loved the company, and the potential for a bodyguard on the way back home. He drove slow, keeping an eye on the road ahead while Bozak maintained a vigil out the window, looking every other way for signs of danger. Fortunate as the encounter was, there was still danger amiss.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Somewhere near Arthur Kill strait, New Jersey
Around 9:30 AM

After a brief examination of his options, Lokki noticed a man taking a rest by the water under a leafless tree several hundred meters away. The person was clearly relaxing, laying on some sort of a deck chair, with his legs crossed and the palms of his hands tucked in under his resting head.

"My kinda person"- Lokki noted before heading over his way without further ado.

Normal person would find it troublesome riding their tricycle down a steep grassy slope all the way down to the river. But not Lokki, for he was not a normal person in any sort of way. Instead of going heavy on the breaks, he let the pedals go berserk while he lifted his legs horizontal to the ground under him, with one hand on the wheel and the other on his hat. The rough ride with occasional bumps on his way down made him imagine he was riding a bull, yelling “Toro!” every now and then trying not to fall off of an out of control tricycle with a sealed kiddie basket full of goods going down a cliff.

Before he knew it, the fun part was over and he had to make his wheels stop in their tracks before running off into the strait. He quickly lowered his raised legs that were sticking out like a pair of lances and pressed them on to the ground trying to create friction while holding hard on the breaks that were fixed on the handle bars.

His chaotic run down the hill and his enthusiastic screaming provoked the ears of the man that was resting, immediately awakening him and winning his attention. "Sheesh, you nearly ended up in the water, man."- the person remarked with his hands grabbing his own body by the waists - "Stopped right in time".
"A good thing, too. I can’t swim."- Lokki retorted with a snorting chuckle while getting off of his ride.

"I suspect you are here for the ferry?"- the man was curious while checking Lokki up and down wondering if he’s trouble. He noticed he wasn’t carrying any weapons on him, at least it wasn’t visible on the first look. The man assumed he must be a customer.

"That would be wonderful" – Lokki replied while making strange hand motions that resembled a mimic of an explosion.

"Yeah, okay, buddy." – the ferry guy soon realized he was dealing with another lunatic. He made Lokki follow him down to the ridge above the water from where a large wooden platform was uncovered. So what’s your name, partner? – the captain asked.

"Oh, I go by Lokki." – he replied with an ongoing grin.
"Would that be a corruption of Loco? Because that would make more sense." – captain replied a bit sarcastically.

Lokki’s face soon became serious, yet still benevolent, raising his eyebrows but his mouth simply transforming from a parabola into a straight line - "Pardon?"

"Never mind, buddy." – the foreigner said, clearly losing interest – "So, how do you intend to pay for your trip?"

Lokki raised one finger to pause the captain and his facial expression was showing he had an idea. He hopped all the way back to his tricycle while pushing it towards the ferry alongside him. He unlocked the little basket he carried and pushed his hand down into the pile of stuff before pulling out a bag of lollipops.

"Candy?"

"My teeth are rotten beyond repair, what am I supposed to do with a lollipop?" - the man asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Suck on it?" – Lokki asked a rhetorical question with a straight face – "The way I see it, you got no teeth, hence you got nothing to lose" – his mood quickly shifted into joy before throwing the bag of lollipops into the arms of the captain – "Enjoy your candy."

The man laughed at the lunatic’s logic while catching the bag – "Alright, man. Hop in."

Laura Miller

______________________________________________

August 18, 2039 10:00 AM
Central Brooklyn

As Laura walked around the city, going into abandoned buildings, one after another, she found very little items worthy of note. She had gone in restaurants, smaller diners, grocery stores, apartments, and most of them had already been scavenged by bandits or the many other travellers roaming the streets. Expired food, useless items like toys or storybooks of subjects long past were the pick of the day. Expired food had long since rotten, and these storybooks were no longer needed, an artifact of the past. Many of these buildings were but a shell of their existing self, and those that survived the shelling, were not much better. Although intact, they too suffered the fate of the rest of buildings among them. Abandoned.

While searching around in a grocery store in one of the many deserted streets filled with wreckage of cars, she happened to chance upon a pair of bandits walking around like they owned the road. These bandits never learnt. They didn't had to, not many people dared to stand up to them anyway. Well, in a way it was great for her, that they did not. It made hunting them alot easier being the dumb arrogant nuts that they were. One of them was carrying the same assault rifle she was using as well. Perfect. More ammunition.

Using the grocery store as cover, Laura began taking aim before firing away the bandits. Her first shot took the pair by surprise, and the first fell in shock. Unfortunately, she had missed the mark, and only managed to wound him somewhere in his torso. A shootout then occurred among the three of them, the resounding cracks of gunshots echoing throughout the city.

The two bandits were pinned in their only cover in the streets, while she had the freedom to move around through the store, and after several more rounds of exchanged gunfire cracked around, she got the better of them.

She run to check the corpses for potential loot, scavenging whatever ammunition they had left from the fight. It was then that she heard the ear-splitting scream. It made her jump with fright, and rifle in hand, she ran towards the source of the sound, trying to figure out whatever made that unearthly sound.

James Cooper

---

August 18, 2039, 10:03 AM
Central Brooklyn

"To die, to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to dream; aye, there's the rub."

White. Ringing. Slow, blurred movements in the distance.
Am I...dead? What killed me? I wasn't ready to die!
A metallic taste in his mouth and a sharp, throbbing pain in his forehead woke James. He couldn't remember his face being quite so sticky. Nor could he remember deciding to take a nap on the pavement. He rolled over onto his side and immediately clutched his head and cried out sharply.

This was not right. He was bleeding. There was blood on his head and it hurt tremendously. Oh...oh god. He WAS dying. No, it was too soon! He couldn't die yet! He hadn't even seen another person! And...and...okay, so maybe he wasn't actually dying, but he was still in a lot of pain.

Wincing, James stood and surveyed the road in front of him. He hadn't thought it quite so tilty before. The wall seemed awfully inviting, and he collapsed heavily onto it, body wracked once more with paroxysms from his head wound. Blood filled his nose and mouth, and all he could smell was iron. No smells of rotting building or slowly decomposing organic material. Just his own blood, trickling down the side of his face and mingling with tears.

This wasn't how today was supposed to go. It was supposed to be lucky. More crackles, more food. Against his better judgment, James felt betrayed. There was no food today. There was nothing. Just blood-soaked clothes and a pounding headache. All he wanted now was to go home, but he could barely stand. It had taken so long to get here, and the trip back was sure to be torture. The mixture of tears and blood flowed freely onto his sweatshirt and the concrete sidewalk beneath him.

A slapping sound reached his ears, startling him into clarity. Running down the street towards him was, for the first time all day, a welcome sight. Youthful spark returning to his eyes and mouth contorting into an unholy combination of grimace and grin, James pushed himself up, propping his body against the wall behind him.
The figure dashing headlong at him was a human.

Laura Miller

______________________________________________

August 18, 2039 10:05 AM
Central Brooklyn

As Laura got closer to the source of the ear-splitting scream, she saw that it had came from a man. And he didn't look like a raider. That was great. She didn't have to kill him then. Besides, from her position, he looked to be in pretty bad-shape. He was still moaning about, and he rolled over and clutched his head. He struggled to stand, and as he faced her, she saw the familiar crimson sight of blood.

Was he injured perhaps?

He sure looked like it. As she walked up to the guy, she took in his appearance. A tall and gangly man with a shock of wavy brown hair. His hair looked like it was soaked in a combination of sweat and blood. How long had he been injured? His face seemed to be flowing with blood, and so was his sweatshirt.

This man here, though he looked half-dead, was the first living person she had seen that wasn't a bandit raider. Some company would be nice, it's been a long time since she has had any company of any sort.

As Laura crouched down, she swung back her rifle and began to stare at the guy, she spoke "Hey, are you alright? Do you need help?" She then placed her backpack on the ground as she took out a relatively clean piece of cloth, she normally used for wrapping goods to wrap it up. She tied the cloth around his wound, like a bandana of sorts.

Best keep that covered until they find medication of any sort. Looking around, she saw that the two of them were completely alone in the deserted streets. Prodding the guy, she kept on the look-out for any sign that the guy was beginning to regain consciousness.

"HEY!" The deep yell was not enough to disrupt Perenelle's footwork along the narrow edge of the roof. Half the roof had caved in itself; the rest was fighting to survive. If she managed to make it into the building then out, Perrie knew she would be able to escape. If not, she wasn't too worried. After all, she was the infamous Little Red, was she not? Surviving was her first talent. The second was managing to escape without her victims knowing how she had. Her cherry red lips pulled upwards into a smirk as the cock of a gun sounded nearby. Eloquently following was a whizzing bullet. She grinned and hopped onto the landing. With her arms out to catch her fall and legs braced, she landed on the crippled landing. The bullet whizzed overhead and missed her. Giggling with amusement, the thief darted down the dilapidated staircase, taking two at a time.

"Goddammit!" roared the man with fury, stomping his feet and cursing fluently. Though she didn't catch all of it, Perenelle heard a few choice swear words that she herself would not have used. Loud voices, similar foul language, and aggravation were revived in Perrie's mind. The memories and thoughts she had pushed back were starting to haunt her once more. With a deep breath and narrowed eyes, she paused on the third last step and took out her bow. Vermin like this one were not necessary to this world. She strung an arrow and waited patiently, crouched on the step. The thundering of the man's feet were audible - one would think they would strive to be quieter. This didn't seem to be the man's goal; perhaps he thought he could intimidate her. How arrogant of him, she thought with an eye roll.

The second the door creaked open, Perrie let her arrow fly forward. The arrow pierced the man's heart, near an artery. The man's face contorted with rage and hatred, now became a mask of shock. "Got you, bastard," She hissed as she stood up. The man choke, his chest now stained with red, then stumbled backwards and fell. She strode over to him, hoisting her knapsack filled with supplies and food, and smacked it over his head. His eyes then rolled to the back of his head as he permanently fell silent. She grabbed him by his feet and struggled to pull him inside. She groaned after a moment and gazed around. There was someone coming up the street for reasons unknown.

Perrie adjusted her mask which was a combination of black and red. No one else in her group wore red on their masks; it was her color. The sides were laced with raven feathers; the front crisscrossed and was designed with lace at the top and bottom. The mask settled politely on her nose and covered her eyes. The rest of her face was shrouded by her hood. Perenelle smirked as she recalled what her masked appeared as. This had been with her for so long that she couldn't bear to part with it. Not only that, but it was her group's style. Without it, she was just Perenelle; people knew her name and face. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and memories, turning to the boy outside. She stepped over the dead man and took out her bow, stringing multiple arrows.

"Get over here." she ordered intently. The man jumped, startled, whirling over to face her. "Come over here now or I'll shoot you." He swallowed then reluctantly came over to her. "Pull him inside." He nodded once more, quivering with what appeared to be fear. It shocked her. How could a grown man be afraid of her? Then again, her group was well known, especially in New York. She watched him intently, bow still aimed at him. As the man hoisted her victim inside, Perrie followed him inside.

"Please don’t hurt me." He pleaded as he finished and turned to her. "I have a wife and kids and –“

"-Oh I had no intention of doing so. It's your lucky day." She smiled sweetly, her eyes glittering. "You can run along now, little doggie." She gestured outside as if he didn't know it himself. He ran out hurriedly down the street and out of sight. Wherever he had been going, was forgotten. She almost felt pity for him. Almost. She tore her arrow out of the man’s chest so no evidence was left behind. With a grin and a malicious smile, Perrie looked at the dead man. She kicked his shin then strode out the door, down an alleyway, and back to her hideout.

There was a meal to be made and people to feed.

Donatello De Rege

---

Cans. Empty. Bottles. Smashed. Packets. Torn. This place was well and truly wiped out. Not a single supply in sight that wasn't dirtied or discarded for faultiness. He had managed to find a single length of bandage that whoever came through here missed. His leg was feeling a little better for it. His nerves, however, certainly were not. If there was nothing here, then how far off could actual survivors be? What if they were mutant hunters? Or more raiders? Another bullet to the leg was an idea that didn't sound attractive to Donnie at all, given how the first one felt. His foot collided with a can and sent it squawking down one of the aisles, into the shelves. Maybe if he went toward the back of the store, he would find a management office of some kind that had been missed? These old supermarkets had older locks, it could be a cinch for him to just let himself in. Yeah, that is what he'd do. One foot in front of the other, he began to limp.

"Hang the fuck on, boyo," Donnie mumbled, stopping in his tracks in the middle of a former snack aisle. He felt that same can from before, the same weight, but on his shoulder this time. It occurred to him that there was an error in his previous thought. Cans didn't squawk. Cans didn't squawk at all. Donnie turned his gaze to the side to find a bird alighting upon his shoulder. A big, nasty-looking grey thing. Like an owl with a bad dye job. It squawked at him and he squealed back, swiping with the butt of his rifle. "Fuck offa me, ya big buzzard shit!"

Donatello was not the smartest when he was afraid. Sometimes he could be pretty brilliant, but when he was afraid, his chances of brilliance went down the drain. He ran, or rather he limped, screaming into a wall at the back of the store. A loud thump sounded out, accompanied by the squawking and flapping of wings, before everything went dark for Donnie. There he lay, hidden behind a large crate, as some sort of mutated owl perched atop his head and watched for signs of motion.

Times Square, New York
10:15 AM
______________________________________

The once lit-up and crowded Times Square was a ghost of itself. The buildings were barely still standing, windows shattered and with random holes throughout the structure. Debri coated the sidewalks. Everything was dark and gray... Nothing like the busiest place in the country as it once had been. Hunter loved it. He hated people and he hated bright lights. He thought everything that had happened to the people that had walked these streets was well deserved. The world had been greedy and selfish. Not that it still wasn't, but at least there were less of swine in the herd now. The clouded sky overlooked the ten or so people in black as they followed him down the skeleton of New York City. They had been walking for hours and had only found two little rabbits with nothing but clothes on their scrawny bodies. Hunter knew it had been his duty to put them out of their misery. Little Red would understand.

"Stop."Hunter commanded. He turned to the group, who had quickly circled behind him, ready to hear what he had to say. It was funny how wearing a white mask amidst a bunch of black ones made them all bow to his every will. That's just how it was even with wolves. Everyone needed a leader to guide them. "I'm hearing voices in a couple directions. Split up. You four go down and check out the stores down south. The rest of us are going down towards this way. We're going to check the markets."

"Yes, White Wolf." Four of the ten in black masks turned and went the other way. One thing that Hunter did not like was that they were getting infamous. People were starting to be aware of them and hide. Stories were being told, both true and untrue. Though he did like prey with fear in their eyes, they would definitely be more challenging. Maybe he did like that. Their group tended to call everyone else rabbits since all they did was take and kill them. When he wasn't around to control the wolves, they'd take more than just supplies from women but he supposed Little Red did not need to know of that. He would meet up with her later at noon and could contact her through his walkie talkie if need be but he knew it wasn't necessary to tell her every little detail. His wolves deserved to take whatever they wanted. They ruled this world now.

______________________________________

A market in Frankford, New Jersey
10:15 AM
______________________________________

Elijah had been sitting on the curb of the street, watching Adelaide go from vendor to vendor, trying to find a ride. One guy had a truck but he had wanted to take everything she had for it. She was not that desperate of course. The market only had around 12 tables set up. There were maybe twice that many people here as well as a few small settlements around the area. He let out a shaky breath, watching it cloud up in the cool air in front of him. This wasn't going well. Walking all the way to New York would be dangerous. A lot of people were passing through this way.
He was young but he wasn't stupid. A kid and a girl who was barely an adult were easy targets. He knew Adelaide was tougher than any girl he'd ever met but she was not invincible.

"Hey little boy,"
Elijah's gaze snapped up to a nearby table with an old woman, leaning over it to look at him. He didn't see a lot of old people anymore. They were as rare as kids. "Here. Take this." She smiled warmly and handed him a toy robot.
He took it reluctantly and examined it, reading out the name printed on it, "Op... Opti..Optee-... "He tried to sound it out. He didn't remember much about his childhood but he guessed he hadn't learned to read that well.

"Optimus Prime, "She corrected him, "It was my son's when he was about your age. You can have it, free of cost."

"Really? Thanks." Elijah said, "but doesn't your son still want it?"

She shook her head, "No sweetheart. My son doesn't really like to dwell on the past. He finds it easier to ignore it."

"I can understand that I guess." Elijah said and grabbed the strap of his backpack, pulling it over his shoulder and on to his lap. He pulled out a flower and set it on her table, "I don't have much but I think you will like this."

"Aw how sweet. "The old woman smiled genuinely, "Take care okay?"

"Yeah you too." It was also rare that anyone found nice people anymore. Elijah hoped she'd be okay. He looked over as he suddenly heard Adelaide calling his name from the back of a truck.

"I'm sorry. I gotta go. Nice to meet you."He got up and ran over, climbing on the back of the truck with her. There were four other people there, clinging to the sides of it. Adelaide was on the very end, clearly trying to avoid looking at the other four people. He wondered if they had been rude to her or something.

"I told you I could work my magic."Adelaide smirked at him as she helped him up. She pulled the back latch closed and looked at him, "What do you have in your hand?"

"Optimus Prime."He picked it up and showed it to her. She took it quickly and began looking in the cracks and even smelling it. "God, Addie you're so weird sometimes."He mumbled.

"Sorry. People are crazy."She sighed and gave it back to him. "Hang on to the sides and don't look at anyone, okay?"

He nodded and put the robot in his backpack. Elijah grabbed the sides of the truck as it began to move and tried his best to keep his gaze down but he was curious. He found himself glancing at the other people anyway.

A market in Frankford, New Jersey
10:15 AM

The market before him lay more barren than the desert of Arizona. Drake found himself cursing fluently in his mind's eye, scowling all the while. Why did the damn Wolves destroy this area? He hated the group so much; everyone was suffering, and they had to take everything for themselves? He grunted and kicked over a piece of wood. It shattered into tiny pieces and scattered across the ground. Useless, worthless... Was there anything left in this damn world to live for? Drake often pondered the question, then had to remind himself that his family was out there. He had to find them and make sure they were okay. But where did he start? Drake had no idea. It puzzled him and drove him insane.

He glanced around the market and sighed once more. Mentally, he began counting his supplies; he had Chef Boyarde's ravioli, small bags of chips, fruit cups, and a few cereal bars. Nothing was exactly health,y but he didn't care; food was food now. It had to last him a month or two as well. The impulse to scarf it down was overwhelming. He sighed, glanced around once more. The sound of gunfire echoed in the background, but soon died out. If he didn't hear it at least once a day, then it meant something was wrong. The gun tucked tightly in his belt was something Drake checked for daily.

Up ahead, he spotted a truck. Drake jogged over and echoed into his bag and handed the guy a bag of Lays. "Can I have a ride?" He quizzed him. the guy beamed and took the chips, nodding. Drake sighed in relief and climbed onto the back. Soon, the the spots were filled and the driver took off. He knew to keep his head down; but the chance of seeing someone he knew was tantalizing. He looked up front; saw no-one, then looked at the back. There was a kid sitting next to a familiar looking dark haired woman. He stared, questioningly, then looked away. As the truck turned, he glanced over once more and saw the facial features. His heart began to race. Was that... Was that...?

"Adelaide?" Drake called in an undertone as to not disrupt the others. "Is that you?" He stared hopefully, though he didn't want to lose his hopes if it wasn't her. Adelaide was his best friend and one of the only people he ever missed besides his family.He missed her so much. She was his sunshine in this dark, gloomy world. She made him want to live when he found it hopeless. Drake's lips twitched upwards as he slowly made his way over from his spot nearest the windows. "I-I-I don't mean to disturb you; you just look like someone I kn-knew and I was seeing if you were here. If not, I'm sorry to disturb you." Drake sighed as he looked down at the floor of the truck. Please God, he thought, don't trick me like this.

Adelaide's heartbeat pounded as she held the sides of the truck, her heart threatening to jump out of her chest. This wasn't a good idea. She could feel the others' eyes on her. She was pushing her luck lately. Being a woman alone was super dangerous enough. That's why she had been so reluctant to take Elijah with her when she found him. She couldn't guarantee one hundred percent protection for him. Adelaide still wanted to find some sort of sanctuary to put him. There had to be somewhere that was guarded off from everything that would take a kid.

"Pretty little thing," the person across from her commented, "You got a lot of guts running around with a pretty face like that. Won't be so pretty for long. They'll tear it apart. They'll find you and they'll shred you to pieces. Just you wait and see." He laughed as if what he was saying was the most hilarious thing in the world.
"And what's this? A child? Oh what a pair. You two are nuts. I'll start digging your graves for yas."

"You'll see."Elijah said, "She's not just a pretty face. She could beat all you losers up. She's tougher than most guys." She loved the kid for sticking up for her but saying things like that did nothing but possibly create feuds. "We'll be the ones still alive in years to come and you guys will be in graves because you don't know anything." They laughed at him, dismissing him immediately to Adelaide's relief.

Adelaide gritted her teeth, forcing herself not to look over at the speaker. She knew it was going to be some psychotic looking creepy dude or something. She could feel him staring right at her and Elijah, still laughing at the idea of their incoming doom. She gripped Elijah's hand tightly as she felt a hand caress her thigh.
Great. She was surrounded by them. This was an awful idea. She turned to call to the driver to stop when a familiar voice reached her ear.

"Adelaide?" A male voice said, "Is that you?" She looked over. Through the window to the inside of a truck, a very young man was scooting over closer to them. It was broken and it was simply a hole. God she wished she had just sat on the inside. "I-I-I don't mean to disturb you; you just look like someone I kn-knew and I was seeing if you were here. If not, I'm sorry to disturb you."

"Uh."Elijah muttered, "Why does that guy know your name?"

She couldn't believe it. "... Drake?"Adelaide peered at him in astonishment. "Holy shit." Drake had been an old friend... Maybe one of the only true friends she had ever had. They had met as kids and stuck together for years. However around 3 years ago, bandits had raided the village they had been staying in and they had been forced to flee in separate directions. She had not been able to find him since. Her eyes teared up, "You idiot I thought I lost you forever,"She reached through the hole and cupped his face, "God it's really you. It's really you." She smiled genuinely despite the tears rolling down her cheeks

"UH. Hello!?"Elijah exclaimed, "What the hell is happening?"