Inside a dim war room buried beneath Red Hands territory, a cracked monitor lit the faces of hardened men. They watched in silence as the footage played. Bob, alone, tearing through the cartel like it was nothing.
A grizzled man leaned back in his chair, the glow from the screen reflecting off the scars across his face.
"That idiot again? We're watching a damn force of nature."
Another soldier crossed his arms, eyes still fixed on the footage. "We're tracking him, right?"
"Of course. We need to know where he's headed. Whether we fight him or hire him, we haven't decided yet."
At the center of the room, seated in silence, an Underboss watched the playback without blinking. His gaze didn't waver as Bob crushed the last cartel survivor into the dirt.
"Darius was a fool," he muttered.
Another voice muttered, "But a fool who made us lose a lot of men. This Bob is not just a brute. He is dangerous."
The Underboss exhaled, tapping his fingers on the table. "Put a bounty on him. I want every Red Hand to know. Bob the Goliath is now an enemy of our organization. Spread the word to all branches. He killed our people, he humiliated us, and now he thinks he can walk away. This is not just about revenge anymore. This is about sending a message."
Far from the Red Hands' war room, in the heart of an unknown faction, a hooded figure sat in front of a bank of monitors. The dimly lit room flickered with data streams and surveillance footage, each screen tracking movements once hidden from the world.
The figure clicked through files, pausing on Quinn Adler's breaking report.
"Fascinating," he said.
A second voice spoke up from the darkness. "Wild Bites, huh? That just means they are unpredictable. And dangerous."
The hooded figure leaned closer to the screen. His eyes gleamed under the low light.
"Then let us see just how far their chaos will spread."
-----
"Don't scare it off—ready?" Bob whispered, holding a tiny pebble between his fingers.
He flicked it like a marble.
TWANG!
The air cracked as the pebble shot forward, striking the nightmare creature square in the head. The thing didn't even have time to react before BOOM! Its grotesque, oversized skull exploded into a fine mist of pink and bone.
Bob grinned. "Nice. Got it."
Sly, crouched nearby, wiped a stray piece of monster goo off his jacket. "Bob… that thing was six feet tall."
"And?"
"And it had three eyes, no beak, and way too many teeth. How in the hell did you think that was a chicken?"
Bob shrugged. "I dunno. Looked like one."
Gabe rubbed his temples. "I swear, every day, you find a new way to lower my expectations."
Right now, they were on a nightmare hunt, scavenging creatures from the Pink Fog for food. It was not ideal, but it had worked before. The fog twisted animals into abominations, but once killed and dragged inside a safe zone, the corruption faded, leaving behind something edible. Most of the time.
Bob had insisted on targeting this particular creature because he was convinced it was a chicken.
It was not.
Bob slung the massive, still-twitching corpse over his shoulder and carried it back toward their food truck. As they approached, the shimmering glow of the safe zone barrier flickered to life. The moment they stepped inside, the creature's body shrank, its grotesque features melting away like wax under a flame.
A turkey.
Bob grinned. "See? I was close."
Sly deadpanned. "Yeah, only off by everything."
Gabe crossed his arms, shaking his head. "One of these days, Bob, you are going to try dragging back a Boss creature. And I hope I am not there to see it."
Bob grinned wider. "What? You do not want a free Boss fight with your meal?"
Their food truck was their new mobile safe zone, a major upgrade from the old pickup. It was not just a means of transport. It was home, kitchen, and shelter rolled into one. Unlike the old safe zone, which only covered the truck itself, this one projected a larger bubble of protection, creating what Bob proudly called the dining area.
By tilting the mounted meteor fragment, they could adjust the radius of the barrier. It let them set up foldable tables and chairs beside the truck, without having to cram inside every time they wanted to eat.
For once, Bob had actually thought ahead.
As soon as they reached the truck, Iris sighed and cracked her knuckles. "Alright, I will handle it."
She grabbed a knife and got to work, skinning and preparing the turkey with the ease of someone who had done this too many times.
Sly leaned against the truck, smirking as he watched her work. "You know, Bob could probably do that whole process in one punch."
Iris did not even look up. "Yeah, and then we would have nothing but meat confetti."
Bob folded his arms. "I could do it lightly."
"No, you could not."
Bob thought about arguing, then shrugged. "Fair."
As the smell of roasting turkey filled the air, Gabe turned to Bob. "So, about that thing you mentioned earlier. You are really going through with it?"
Bob stretched lazily and nodded. "Yeah. It is important."
Sly, who had missed the earlier conversation, furrowed his brow. "Wait, what are you two talking about?"
Bob grinned, puffing out his chest. "Our food truck grand opening."
Iris froze, nearly dropping the knife. "What?!"
Gabe sighed. "Yeah. I tried to talk him out of it."
Bob gestured broadly. "Think about it! It's a new food truck! Like any restaurant, we need a grand opening!"
Sly stared at him. "You seriously think putting up chairs and posters will make this place less insane?"
Bob shrugged. "It will look nice."
Iris finally put the knife down and stared at Bob like he had just suggested wrestling a Caller for fun. "Bob. Who. The hell. Is going to show up?"
Bob crossed his arms. "Don't worry. Even if no one comes, we're still here."
Sly let out a breath. "So you're doing a grand opening… for ourselves?"
Bob grinned. "Yep."
Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose. "Unbelievable."
Iris groaned. "Alright, fine. But if we're doing this, we're doing it right. I'm not half-assing a meal, even if our only customers are gonna be a bunch of morons with bad survival instincts."
Bob clapped his hands. "See? That's the spirit!"
Sly tilted his head. "Wait, where are we actually doing this? Please tell me it's not—"
"In the Pink Fog, of course," Bob said proudly.
Silence.
Then, all at once:
Iris said, "Absolutely not."
Gabe said, "Bob, no."
Sly said, "I refuse to die for a food truck."
Bob frowned. "Guys. Think about the marketing."
Gabe stared at him. "The marketing? Bob, there is no economy."
Bob was not listening anymore.
He was already sketching out a menu.
As they finished their meal, the sound of an approaching engine drew the group's attention. A vehicle appeared on the road, its movement controlled and deliberate. The car's chassis was clearly reinforced for hostile environments, while a Glint-wielding escort maintained aerial surveillance, methodically scanning the surrounding terrain.
Sly observed the scene, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "That's the third one today. Looks like this zone has been stabilized enough to support consistent traffic."
It had been two weeks since they left District 4-05, the ruins of the Little Finger base behind. They had not found any major safe zones, so the food truck had become their home. It was their shelter, their kitchen, and everything in between.
They never stayed in one place for long. They drove as far as they could, and when it was time to eat or rest, Bob, Gabe, and Sly would head out to hunt nearby nightmare creatures and restock supplies.
The first time they saw another mobile safe zone, it felt like a rare sight. But as they traveled from District 4-05 into District 5-01, they realized it was not rare at all. These safe zones were becoming common.
People were adapting.
Instead of hiding in ruins, they were building new systems, finding workarounds to live with the Pink Fog. It was not perfect, but it was something.
No matter how bad things got, humanity always found a way to survive.
-----
After successfully hunting a cow, Bob clapped his hands together. "Alright, everything is ready. Lights, posters, bendable chairs and tables, and now we have the final ingredients."
He turned to the others with a wide grin. "Grand opening starts at lunch."
By mid-morning, they had parked in an open clearing where the fog was thinner and the terrain was easy to defend. Sly and Gabe moved through the area, scouting for any signs of Fades or nightmare creatures.
Meanwhile, Bob set up the venue like it was just another day working at Grandpa's old noodle shop. He even rigged a neon sign above the truck, its bright pink glow flickering against the fog.
'The Last Bite'.
Their name was set. Now all they needed were customers.
Iris, shaking her head but unable to hide a small smile, prepared the meat, her focus entirely on cooking.
At exactly noon, Bob flicked the switch. Lights turned on. Foldable chairs were lined up neatly. The food was cooked to perfection. And, just because he could, Bob even turned on some music.
In the middle of the Pink Fog apocalypse, a fully operating food truck stood, its lights glowing, its scent inviting, its atmosphere completely surreal.
Fifteen minutes passed.
Nothing.
Not a single shadow moved. The fog remained still.
Sly exhaled, strolling toward the empty dining area, hands in his pockets. "Welp. We did our best."
Bob, however, was still staring into the distance. His eyes narrowed slightly. Then…
"We got customers."
Gabe, Iris, and Sly froze.