2. Motorcycle Ridin'

The engine roared, then quieted, idling to a halt. Domi patted the cycle, proud of herself. “I’m getting better at control. Don’t even need my phone for that kind of stuff anymore.”

“I’m just glad you had the self-restraint to not use my motorcycle as a car bomb,” Zeke muttered.

“No point. This thing doesn’t have fuel. Except for shrapnel-making, it’s useless as an explosive.” Domi flipped the kickstand and hopped off the motorcycle. She glanced at Zeke. “Will Mia be okay alone?”

“Isaac is there,” Zeke pointed out.

“Right… Isaac, the guy who tried to kill us at least twice. That guy.” Domi raised her eyebrows at him.

Zeke snorted. “Yeah, fair. But no, I mean, she’s the Hero. I’m sure she can hold her own against a Cat Man, for goodness’ sakes. And someone has to watch the ordinary people and the paramedics and such. I mean, we only have Isaac’s word that the other city can’t send an attacker over here right now.”

“He never said that. He just said that an Apocalypse can’t expand their Domain outside of their Domain,” Domi pointed out.

Zeke stiffened. “We should go back.”

Domi snorted. “Look, Ryan’s on the case. Scouting the threat, or whatever. And it’s not like we’re going to take ages to check on this Apartment guy. And hey, if we’re really going to set up shop here and invite our families into the city to stay safe… we have to know if the Apartment Apocalypse can be trusted.”

“Yeah.” Zeke took a deep breath. He nodded decisively and stepped toward the apartment before them.

The apartment squatted before them. An enormous woodframe building, it bore an unfortunate lack of any sort of artistry in its construction or painting. Clad in the hideous cheapest shades of puke green, dirt red, and pale puce on the market, the painted walls swapped out with tasteful brick and sheet metal patchwork. The walls themselves pushed toward Zeke and Domi one moment, then stepped back the next, as if to make some kind of artistic statement without taking the effort to actually be artistic. All in all, it was the generic sort of apartment that could be found anywhere. There was nothing good to say about it. Ugly, squat, pushing the rock bottom of what regulations would allow, it was the kind of apartment that popped up in six months with the kind of speed and temerity that no building should show in its construction.

Looking it over, Domi whistled. “Bet that place costs an arm and a leg to live in. Still new, from the look of it. Phew, that’ll be a pretty penny.”

“Er, it’s… modern?” Zeke tried, not sure he wanted to insult an Apocalypse to its face.

“Total waste, too. Bet it offers all sorts of events and perks, but those will all go away the second they can sell the building to the highest bidder and let some second-rate management company take over.”

Zeke looked at Domi. “Do you, uh, have a grudge against specifically this apartment?”

Domi spread her hands. “Just calling it like I see it. Let’s head inside. Gotta see if normal people can even live inside here.”

“That’s right,” Zeke agreed. The Apartment Apocalypse surrendered easily enough. It doesn’t seem like a fighter. Still, it is an Apocalypse. If it has a Domain, its Domain will infect other people, regardless. He leaned left and right, peering more closely at the apartment. “It does look like an ordinary apartment.”

“You mean an ugly-ass apartment,” Domi countered.

Zeke shrugged. “Same difference.”

Snorting, Domi shook her head at him. “Kids these days. Can’t even appreciate a good apartment when they see one.”

Domi crossed to the door and pushed it open. A blast of air conditioning slapped them both in the face, surprisingly cool in the midst of the summer day.

A frog hopped out.

Domi’s eyes widened. She reached toward Zeke. “No no no—”

Zeke crouched and snatched it up. Before he even had time to think about what he was doing, he shoved the frog in his mouth and swallowed.

[Devour]

The hunger tickling at the back of his mind dissipated, and he let out a long sigh. A second later, he pressed his lips together. That shouldn’t feel so good… I just ate a raw frog.

At least it was an ordinary animal, and not some unholy conglomeration of whatever makes up the heart of an Apocalypse.

My standards might be too low. At least I still have standards, though…?

“My dude, say something,” Domi muttered, aghast. “I have snacks…”

Embarrassed, Zeke grinned. “Er, I didn’t want to say it around Mia, but… I pretty much need to eat living things now. Ordinary food just… doesn’t… I mean, it does, but the amount I have to eat is…”

Domi sighed. She shook her head again, awkwardly kicking the ground. For a moment, the brash façade faltered. Instead of large and in charge, she was just one young woman, barely any older than him, just as lost as he was. “Yeah. I get that.”

Zeke looked at her. “When this is all over… what do I do then? Retire to the countryside and raise my own cows so I don’t die of starvation?”

“Hey, man, that sounds like a you problem.” Domi nodded at the door, grinning once more, the moment over. “We going in or no?”

What did I expect? Scoffing to himself, Zeke stepped inside. “Let’s go.”

A short atrium greeted them. Beyond it, a lavish lobby dripped with some corporate office worker’s idea of modern charm. An angular, dark iron chandelier boxed in a pair of exposed faux-incandescent bulbs. Bright lemon-lime sofas cut in odd shapes sat around an eclectic pair of side tables, one in wood, the other furry and low, perhaps an ottoman rather than a side table, though the magazines it sported suggested its use as the latter. Underneath, a faux-antique rug stretched its faux-threadbare surface to the ceiling. Behind the lobby, the front desk jutted out toward them, a glass-and-marble contriviance lost somewhere between classic extravagance and brutal modernism.

Past the lobby, in a trying-too-hard sort of way, a billiards table and foosball table stood side-by-side, without quite enough room for a person to squeeze between them to play either. A replica arcade stand flashed an emulator’s graphics into the room. Yet further beyond the games, a glass wall provided a portal into a private pool barely long or wide enough to fit three people. Cheap folding chairs and looks-nice-but-falls-apart-in-a-year cabanas sat around the pool, picturesque under the sun.

Domi raised her hands in a mock-camera, approaching the rear glass wall. “I can see it now… yes… right here is where they take the low-angle shot that makes the pool look enormous, despite being tiny.”

“Seriously… do you have a grudge against this exact apartment?” Zeke cocked a brow questioningly, joining her by the windows.

“They’re all like this. All the new apartments,” Domi complained.

A soft cough sounded from the direction of the desk. “Hello.”

The two of them whirled. Sparks shot from Domi’s hands. Zeke lifted his hands.

A soft, slightly chubby girl wrapped in a big, fluffy blanket, wearing a loose shirt, booty shorts, and knee-high soft socks stood in the arch of the hallway past the desk. Loose dyed-pink curls fell around her face, framing round cheeks and an upturned nose. In both hands, she clutched a large frog. She flinched back. “Uh—sorry!”

Zeke nudged Domi. She lowered her hands, if reluctantly. Zeke dropped his as well, giving the girl a gentle smile. “No, no. We’re sorry.”

She straightened hesitantly. “Oh… oh, okay.”

“Er, we’re looking for the Apartment Apocalypse?” Zeke tried. I hope she’s an apocalypse. Otherwise, this is going to sound insane.

The girl nodded. “Ah, that’s me. Have you seen a frog? One of them got away from me.”

She held up the frog. The frog stared at Zeke, its big round eyes full of judgement, its horizontal pupils empty of sin.

Zeke stared back. He swallowed, guilty, full of sin.

Domi looked at Zeke, a smirk crawling across her face.

Uh… should I admit I ate it? But what if she likes frogs? If she’s the Apartment Apocalypse, insulting her… I don’t know! Will fighting her put us back in the dome? Ugh… Zeke cleared his throat, a thousand thoughts running through his head.

“What is that, frog in your throat?” Domi asked, her grin escaping.

Zeke elbowed her, hard. “Hey.”

The girl furrowed her brows. “Is… is that a no?”

Zeke gritted his teeth in an almost smile. “Uh…” Do I tell her? Do I not? Was it her precious pet frog? Please let it not be her precious pet frog…!