“Well, this is the place! Make yourselves feel at home.” Que tells the two.

  John steps in first, dawning a fresh black hoodie, denim jeans and a tank top. Steel-capped boots and a suitcase with a strap slung over his shoulder.

  Amy followed, wearing a pinkish-white crop-top with a black turtleneck underneath. Bagging nylon pants tucked into the socks of her sneakers. Que closes the door behind him, wearing a duplicate of his old uniform, his television face smiling.

  “Surely there's something we can do to return the favor?” John tells Que. “This cost a lot of credits man, we don't mean to freeload.”

  “Aww. Think nothing of it John.” Que teases as he moves for the curtains. “Your company is more than enough. But just so you know, I do love surprises.” He says, opening the curtains to reveal the dystonia outside.

  The stretching hills of embered grass, the faint red mist which emerges at this time of morning. Que inspects the rain closer, noticing a purple coloration.

  “Looks like you two chose a good time! It started acid raining outside again.”

  Amy walks forward, holding one of their bags against her chest.

  “I think we might have something that could repay the favor.” John gives her a look, hurriedly shaking his head in disapproval.

  Que turns around, asking Amy. “Oh yeah? What's that?” Amy looks from John back to Que in slight panic. “Uhh… ahh… nevermind. It's a, uh, a secret!”

  “Oooooh, okay!” Que replies with enthusiasm. “I can't wait to see what you've got for me then!”

  His tail flicks as he takes a seat on his bed, Amy and John inspect the room to try to fit in. They see many posters on the walls, some from pop-culture. Others, of politics. The walls themselves are plastic, covered in some kind of dark red paper.

  Beside the window was his bed. The room was shaped like a rectangle. On either of the two walls were open cabinets housing many gizmos and gadgets whose purpose was unknown. Likely not any nefarious.

  John looks to Que who has pulled out his digiphone. He gets a bit closer to see he's opening up SERaMACs.

  “Heyyyy… uh. No need to talk to him now we're here. C'mon, what's on your mind?” John asks, trying and failing to be natural. Que gives him a funny look but goes along with it. “I was just thinking about how handsome you are, John!” John laughs awkwardly at the comment.

  “Uhh, well that's nice. What, you gonna get SERaMACs to generate an image of me naked or something?” Que’s face lights up with enthusiasm. “Oh! I didn't know you could read minds!”

  John's smirk turns to a cringe as Amy's eyes dart onto the conversation.

  “...for real?”

  Que tilts his head with glee. “Well, you can show me the real thing if you want!” John turns away, a look of impending violation on his face as he looks back to Amy. “...we'll stick to the AI for now I guess.”

  “Cool as.” Que replies, his fingers pressing away against his digiphone. “How'd you rate the real thing Amy?”

  “It's not like that.” Amy says low and protective. John approaches her near the corner and whispers in her ear. “Look, be nice. He's done a lot for us. We need to be nice to him, besides, he knows a lot of people.”

  He takes a step back to look at her, frowning and her eyebrows low, but she nods.

  “Oh wow…” The two hear Que say, distracted, John cringing even harder.

  “Enjoying the view?” He asks. “Very much so!” Que replies.

  Amy has had enough and exits the room. John's concerns grow as he follows her. “I'll be back soon.” He says.

  “Take your time!” Que replies. John half closes the door behind and chases Amy. They stand above the interior balcony, near the girders holding up the massive roof of the facility. She leans on the rail and John joins her. She looks up to him with disgust on her face.

  “What the fuck is this John?” She asks.

  John looks at her worried and a bit confused. “What?”

  “What?!” Amy replies angrily. “You knew this fucking dude was a weirdo and you thought this was the best course of action?!”

  John grows frustrated too, getting tired of explaining shit to other people. “Amy, look all around you. The people who live here. Back in Detroit. Or North Platte City. Who the fuck would you consider to be normal anymore?”

  Amy raises her voice, arguing her point. “Yeah but obviously this guy has a thing for you and you're just gonna let him turn you into an object?!”

  “What the fuck else am I supposed to do. He just gave us all this crap for free and our apartment is about as safe as Hell now!” John raises his voice too, a pot surely beginning to boil over somewhere.

  Amy grabs between her eyes, frustration readily apparent, trying to control herself. “Look. This guy is an idiot. I'm not going to stand a single second of being around him. And I guess that's just too bad.”

  John signs, looking down with her. “Yeah. Well. You're not the only one. Just be happy it's me and not you I guess.”

  Amy's eyes meet his in protest. “But… I don't want it to be you! I'd rather it be me. Like, not that I like him or the attention, I hate seeing you treated badly, John. I hate it.”

  John brushes off the comment, just glad the argument seems to be over. “Yeah well I guess we better get back in there and think of something to talk to him about.”John enters first, Amy follows. She closes the door behind her and joins John looking at Que, who is rummaging through their bags.

  Que acknowledges them as he searches. “Oh! Hey you two. I was hoping you'd take a little longer, my curiosity got the better of me.”

  The two watch powerlessly as he continues. “Oooo, a half eaten McBurger!” He says. “And let's see here… oh my! What is this!”

  He pulls out part of the virtual reality device, inspecting its engravings and barcode. “You two are more affluent than you let on!”

  He says, both comedic and surprised.

  “And… let's see here… a— uh— wait…” Cue slowly turns his television head to John, the face displayed on it a mix of shock and intrigue.

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  “...CLYDE!?” He asks.

  “What the Hell are you doing with Clyde's stuff?!”

  John's face grows just as surprised as Ques.

  “What?! Do you know him?!” He asks out of shock.

  Que stands up, his face angry. “Yeah, I know him! We frequent the same board! He's a furry just like me, except for, well. Different reasons.” Que's mind goes somewhere else as he speaks.

  “Oh!” John says, a lingering question answered.

  “So that's what they call people like you?”

  Que looks at him again. Angry, again. And he pokes his gloved finger into John's chest. “Yeah. That is. Why? Got a problem, bigot?!”

  “ENOUGH!” Amy yells, silencing the two. “I brought the thing off of him. Now, some people have got him. Taken him away.” She begins sniveling, though resisting the urge to snivel or tear up.

  “Who took him away?” Que asks bewildered. John swallows hard, not left with very many options. He taps Que on the shoulder and sits on the side of his bed. “Que, follow me.”

  He asks, thunder erupting through the deep, rainy ambiance.

  “We really need to talk. I'll lay it all out for you.” Que joins him on the bed, the screen displaying what almost looks to be emotional sensibilities. John looks down to the carpeted floor. Itself, a luxury.

  “Look. We came from Detroit, you know that. Do you remember the day with the huge guy and James Mourner?”

  “I do.” Says Cue. “That was the same day I met you, though I don't remember a huge guy. It's good that James Mourner is dead by the way, he was a total asshole.”

  “Okay, whatever, that's not important.” John tells him, looking at his leg.

  “Uhh, actually, it kinda is.” Que replies, looking at his poster of a man titled Douglas De Shult. Que turns to see John looking straight at him, clearly annoyed and over this bullshit.

  “Can I finish?!” He asks rhetorically. “Right. Yeah. Anyway.” He continues with.

  “So James Mourner is killed by this huge guy who's way too big to be any regular enforcement staff or dude or whatever. Now, skipping forward until literally this morning, we see a guy with gold eyes outside Clyde's room just before he's taken.”

  “Oh how odd.” Que comments.

  “I went to go see his room afterwards and the place was totally wrecked and a huge hole was in the window. We heard banging come from outside, almost like something huge was climbing the building.”

  Que interrupts John for clarity. “Oh, was that before or after you saw his room?”

  “Before.” John clarifies. “So we assume they got him because he gave us the VR, which meant it would only be a matter of time before they come for us.” John dreaded Que’s reaction.

  He sat silent for a moment, thinking.

  “A huge hole in the window you said?”

  “Yes.” John answers.

  “And you're trying to tell me it was a huge guy who killed Mourner? And the room was destroyed?” He asks.

  “Yes.” John answers.

  Amy sits down in the corner, drawing her knees close to her chest and resting her head on them. That guy with the eyes, how big was he?” Que asks.

  “Not that big. Maybe my height.” John replies, waiting a moment as he considers Que’s questions.

  “Oh God!” He says, making the connection. “You don't think tha—”

  “Yeah. That sounds like it to me. Big dude through the window!” Que interjects, continuing. “But hey! I knew we'd think alike sooner or later!”

  John panics. Gets up from the bed, the lighting startling him. He paces up and down the room, a small part inside of him laughing maniacally at just how thoroughly their world has been shattered.

  Another part, screaming at the implication.

  Another, just crying because he just wants a break.

  Yet all it comes out as is his hurried steps, rubbing his temples, and. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.”

  “Are your digiphones on?” Que asks, turning his own off. Amy lifts her head, replying. “Honestly, I don't think so man.”

  Que gets up and stops John, taking his gloves off and placing a paw on his shoulder. “Beans.” Que says.

  “Huh?” John asks, breaking out of his spiral.

  “Sorry. Force of habit.” Que says, exceeding flat. “But it got your attention which is good.” He removes his hand from John and places it on the sides of his TV head. Amy and John both look at him as he slowly raises it, the screen shutting off with a synthetic power down.

  He lifts it off fully, and looks up in eye contact with the two. He tucks the television under his armpit, his true face revealed.

  What John and Amy saw was seared flesh, like a chemical burn victim. His canine teeth were misshapen and misplaced. His muzzle bent, crooked and mutated. One ear was missing and the other ear oozes pus.

  His eyes were a deep emerald green, and they seemed the only part of his face left unscathed. Where there wasn't fur there was exposed flesh, and the fleshed throbbed. Red, and black.

  “Yeah. Get a good look.” Que tells them. “It sounds like you two can't stay here. Something bigger than us is following you, and I can imagine why.”

  “Why?” John asks, horrified at his face and yet focused.

  “You two are looking for something like everyone else. Except it seems you two may have actually found it, what it may be for you. I found something once. I thought I had all the answers… and then? Well, look at my face.” He tells them, looking to Amy specifically as he finishes.

  She wonders how he is able to speak or breathe while being such a mess. If Clyde's appearance was an acquired taste, Que's face was the petri dish the taste was made in.

  “Wait.” John says, adding noise to the eerily quiet room. “Then how are you still here then? Knowing something you shouldn't?”

  “I struck a deal.” Que answers. “And then I had all my dreams come true. Though understand this, John.” He says, invading John’s personal space. “Whatever your dreams may be, always recognize them as being just that. Dreams, John.” He backs up slightly.

  “If your dreams become a reality… you might just end up living a nightmare. You understand what I'm saying?” John nods.

  “I think so.” He says looking at the floor. Unable to look at his face any longer.

  Que grabs his jaw with his soft paws and forces him to look. “I don't think you do.”

  Que lets go, turning around to overlook the acid-soaked plains, watching the hills turn even more to tar and black grass beginning to die, yet again.

  “I wish I could help you two. But I've fought enough battles now. I'm comfortable where I am, and that's all that I want to be.”

  “Do you know anyone else who can?” John asks, borderline begging. He looks to Amy who shares his same desperation.

  Que looks at his television helmet in lament as he answers.

  “That I do. I know a lot of people, and a couple who could help. But you must promise to never mention me to them.”

  John stares at the back of Ques scaly head. “We promise. From now on, we have never met.”

  “Okay.” Que replies, looking back out into the landscape. “First, I'm going to need a favor from you John. It’s not something you need to do. Just a favor.”

  “What?” John replies in dread. Que curls his finger, beckoning John to join him. John walks towards, standing next to him as he then leans into his ear. Que's face emanating a moist head.

  “Next time you see that huge enforcer. Or the next time you meet that golden-eyed man. Next time you see someone too big or too odd to ignore… relay these words. The Archliege. Lives. On.”