"Soren!"
Patty suddenly yelped from beside him in the truck bed.
Soren turned his head. She was staring at him like he'd grown a second head. "What?"
She reached over and pressed her palm to his forehead. "You… you feeling okay? Dizzy? Weak? Anything off?"
"?"
Soren blinked, swatting her hand away. "Relax. I feel great. Could crush three extra-large Italian sausage pizzas and ten strawberry sundaes right now and still ask for seconds."
"Really…"
Patty pointed at the strand of hair falling over his eyes. "Then explain this! Look at your hair—there's a whole white streak right there!"
Soren paused, pulled out his phone, and flipped the camera.
Sure enough. A silver-white lock stood out against his black hair like someone had painted it on.
"Uh…"
He ran his fingers through it. Probably a side effect of the bloodline awakening. Dante and Vergil both had full heads of white hair. Made sense that cranking his own Sparda percentage higher would start showing.
"It's nothing," he said, waving it off. "Probably just pushed too hard back there. Little malnourished. Buy me two extra pizzas when we get back and we're square."
Patty wasn't buying it. Her brain—marinated in way too many romance and fantasy dramas—immediately spun up a tragic death arc.
"You think I'm stupid? That insane speed you were pulling earlier? Total life-force drain. Hair turns white in every show when that happens. I'm warning you, Soren—if you die without my written approval, I will never forgive you!"
Soren's mouth twitched.
How did a perfectly normal person end up like this from watching too much TV?
"Stop worrying. Dante does that move all the time and he's still kicking. Hell, he's off somewhere living his best life while I clean up his mountain of debt."
Then a mischievous grin spread across his face and he leaned in close.
"What? Scared I'll kick the bucket and you'll be all alone forever?"
The sudden closeness made Patty freeze. His breath brushed her cheek.
Her face flushed bright red. She punched him square in the forehead. "You smell like roadkill, you idiot!"
"And stop flattering yourself! If you die, I swear I'll hire the best DJ in the state and throw a massive champagne party right on your grave!"
Soren laughed. "Better stock up on super-supreme pizzas and sundaes, then. 'Cause halfway through the party I'll probably just kick the coffin lid open and join the fun."
Up front, Jack's radio conversation caught Soren's ear.
Jack sounded confused. "What fire?"
The dispatcher crackled back: "Just got a report. Weather Bureau satellite thermal imaging shows a massive blaze in the hills not far from your location."
"Everything okay out there? This fire got anything to do with you folks?"
Soren's face went rigid.
Crap. Totally forgot about that.
He quickly pulled up the [Debt-Ridden Sparda] quest.
[Current Progress: -$120,000 / $100,000,000]
Another twelve grand? Just like that?
Soren rubbed his temples. That single stomp he'd used to launch himself during the chase had apparently started a wildfire. Twelve thousand dollars' worth of "oops."
Now he finally understood why his dear uncle Dante could hunt demons for decades and still owe a fortune. At this rate the reward money barely covered the property damage.
Was chronic broke-ness some kind of Sparda family curse?
…
By the time they rolled into Poho County the sky was just starting to lighten.
Typical Midwest farm town—endless fields, low barns, the whole postcard package.
The early-morning wind carried a chill across their faces. Spring nights and days still had that brutal temperature swing.
The air smelled of fresh earth and clean country breeze.
(If you ignored the faint whiff of cow manure, it was actually kind of nice.)
Jack pulled the beat-up pickup to the side of the road and fished the last few crumpled bills out of his worn wallet.
"Kid, I can't thank you enough. If you hadn't shown up…"
"Wasn't a big deal, Mr. Taggart," Soren cut in, taking the cash with a nod.
They swapped numbers, turned down Jack's invitation for breakfast, and the old man finally drove off in his battle-scarred truck.
Poho County's main street was dead quiet at dawn. Probably because the entire police department had been wiped out by the Creeper. Not a soul in sight—saved Soren the headache of giving statements.
Patty pulled Soren's coat tighter around herself and looked up at him. "So… where to now?"
Soren waggled his phone, map already open. "After the night we just had? Straight to the hottest, cheesiest pizza in town."
"Bonus: they've got a Freddy Fazbear's Pizza franchise here. Never thought I'd see one in the middle of nowhere."
…
The greasy glass door swung open and tinny children's music spilled out.
"The bear is dancing, the bunny's on the drums, hiding in their metal tummies, nobody ever gets glum~"
They ordered the biggest pie on the menu and slid into a red vinyl booth by the window.
Soren finally took a good look around.
Center stage held three life-size animatronics: a brown bear in a black top hat, a purple rabbit with an electric guitar, and a blindfolded fox.
Unlike the games back in his old world where they were just spooky toys, this country had actually seen people stuffed inside those suits. Real horror-show stuff.
But those cases were ancient history now—buried in police archives. The chain restaurants popping up everywhere were just capitalists cashing in on kids' love for creepy nostalgia.
Only in America could a murder franchise become a family-dining gimmick.
Patty suddenly stood up and scooted into the booth right next to him, shoulder to shoulder.
She gave him a mysterious little smile, blue eyes sparkling. "Be honest—what's on your work schedule after this?"
Soren slid over a couple inches. "Nothing."
Her eyes lit up like fireworks. "Listen, I've still got tons of spring break left. Since you're free, how about you come with me? We can road-trip, see the sights…"
"I just survived a literal monster attack. As my personal bodyguard, don't you have a duty to keep this young lady safe?"
Soren rolled his eyes. "…"
Only someone who grew up around demons would bounce back from near-death and immediately want to go sightseeing.
Still… he was drowning in debt. Hiding in the broke-down office wasn't going to fix that.
Might as well use the time to hunt down some rich clients and pick up private gigs. The kind of people who valued their lives usually tipped way better than the system quests—and no middleman cut.
Finish this stupid debt quest, cash the rewards, move on.
He looked at Patty's hopeful face and sighed. "Fine. I'll travel with you… but I pick the destinations and the route."
"And you're covering every single expense. I'm broke, remember?"
"Deal!"