Returned to Start.

  Beginning Run 10.

  Set Attributes.

  Strength 10

  Endurance 10

  Agility 10

  Intelligence 10

  Luck 10

  Having a higher intelligence could likely help him figure out more of the mystery, but he had arrived at the current thread with his attributes set to an even 10 across the board. He also hadn’t really had a chance to experience what it felt like.

  Father stood outside his car until the lobster approached.

  “Hey, aren’t you the Father of the Sexiest Lobster? Can’t believe you hit me! You got some balls.”

  “Why are you here?” Father asked.

  The lobster tapped the baseball bat against his claw. “Here? Cause you backed into me, moron.”

  “No. Here. The modestly deep trench. I thought your gang was out of the Reef.”

  The lobster narrowed his eyes. “We ain’t all fancy enough to be in the Reef. Someone’s gotta keep the business expanding down here.”

  A business in the modestly deep trench? That could explain why there were even Hardbody Crustaceans at the competition.

  “Who is the leader in the trench?”

  The lobster took a step closer. “You don’t think it’s me?”

  “No.”

  “It ain’t.” The lobster swung the bat rather poorly.

  Father ducked under and punched the lobster in the abdomen. He staggered back, gulping in water. Father snatched the bat, pulled it back, and smashed it into the lobster’s leg.

  The Hardbody Crustacean went down with a cry.

  Father pressed his foot into the lobster’s chest to keep him down. “Tell me who runs the business in the trench.”

  “You ain’t getting anyth—”

  Father clubbed the lobster across the head. It was powerful enough to hurt badly, but far from strong enough to kill the pathetic creature. “Try again.”

  “I ain’t—”

  Father jabbed the bat into the lobster’s stomach.

  “Okay, okay! It’s Logs, man.”

  “Logs?” Father let up, just slightly, with his foot.

  The lobster thrashed, but calmed when Father put the pressure back into his heel.

  “Who is Logs?”

  “Mister Logs, man. I don’t know what his full name is! Are you even from the trench? You don’t know Logs?”

  Father pressed down with renewed effort. “Pretend I don’t.”

  “Alright! Mister Logs ain’t that hard to see. He runs trash collection in the trench. Can’t miss him.”

  Police showed up and immediately got out of their cars with guns drawn. “Drop the weapon!”

  Father pulled his foot off the lobster and dropped the bat. “I called about the abduction of my Son. This lobster is part of the Hardbody Crustaceans.” He stuck his claws in the air.

  “Hardbody Crustaceans?” The pigfish leaned in close and whispered to one another. One of them stayed with a gun pointed while the other scurried back to the car and talked into the radio.

  Father couldn’t quite hear the conversation, but he had a good feeling he knew what it would include. The police obviously knew about the gang and had no intention of getting in their way.

  Father’s mind moved as fast as it was able. Getting a debuff would cause too many issues for the next run. And a baseball bat wasn’t going to help him win most fights.

  Father ducked, grabbed the bat, and lunged. A pop made him flinch as a bullet passed overhead, but it also made the officer flinch. Father smashed his shoulder into the pigfish’s abdomen, pulled back, and swung the baseball bat.

  It cracked against the cop’s head, crushed his skull, and sent the corpse to the ground.

  “Officer down!” the pigfish in the car shouted.

  Father dropped behind the hood of the car and searched frantically for the handgun.

  “Stop where you are,” the pigfish said. “You’re under arrest for the murder of an officer!”

  Father blindly threw the baseball bat over the hood. It clattered, and made the pigfish panic fire a few shots into nothing. Father stayed under cover and reached for the gun, which had ended up under the pigfish. A few careful kicks let him pull the weapon free. As soon as the gunshots stopped, Father popped over the hood and fired.

  The first shot went right by the pigfish’s head. Father quickly pulled the trigger three more times. Blood leaked from a hole between the pigfish’s eyes. He dropped a half-loaded handgun and fell against the hood of the police car.

  “Oh, man,” the Hardbody Crustacean lobster said. “You do got some balls.” He climbed off the ground. “I can, uh, I—”

  Father aimed and pulled the trigger again.

  The lobster crumpled to the ground, leaking a steady stream of blood into the water.

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  Father grabbed the second handgun, grabbed some ammo, got some money from the lobster and the pigfish, and climbed into his own car.

  “Nothing will stop me from getting my Son.”

  The road out of the neighborhood and into town was a lot shorter and simpler than the highway to the Reef. Father took a road that led into the heart of the modestly deep trench.

  Compact, narrow buildings soon rose from the rocks, jutting out like artificial barnacles. It was dark so modestly deep into the trench. Father pulled along the curb, reached into his center console, and found the lightstick within. Other lightsticks glowed, hanging from people’s pockets or attached to backpacks and purses.

  It was still early in the day, and as far as he could tell, there weren’t any trash collecting isopods anywhere on the street.

  Father ventured into town frequently enough to grab groceries, alcohol, or to have dinner with his Son, but he hadn’t really explored to learn the location of every little business.

  As he stepped out of the car, Father tucked the handguns into his waistband. He had no shirt to hide them, so he just had to hope the dim light and the trench people’s tendencies to keep to themselves were enough to hide the weapons.

  He passed an ice cream shop storefront that glowed with warm light. A school of small fish sat on stools inside, eating some type of ice cream with worms wriggling throughout.

  Memories of Son’s first time eating ice cream came back to Father in a wave more painful than any death he had suffered.

  All of the fear and pain was worth it to Father. He would die a million times if it meant he could save Son.

  He moved on before drawing any attention to himself. The lightstick glowed and illuminated the green algae-coated sidewalk beneath his feet. If one wasn’t cautious, they could slip on some overgrown sections of the sidewalk.

  The Main Street strip was slow so early in the day. A quick jaunt down one side confirmed what Father had expected: the garbage collection company wasn’t on Main Street.

  He walked right through the end of the strip and turned on the first available road. All he needed was one isopod. It was easy to tell there was trash nearby when one found an isopod.

  “Excuse me.”

  Father moved aside.

  A stout, gray isopod waddled by. His antennae wiggled with each step.

  “Wait, do you know where the garbage collection place is?” Father asked.

  The isopod stopped and turned. Its segments shifted, allowing it to look back at Father. “I work there.”

  “Are you on your way there now?”

  “Yes.” The isopod turned and walked away.

  “Can I follow you?”

  The isopod continued waddling along without any response. Father waited at first. Getting on an isopod’s bad side was a terrible idea. He had done so once when he was a teenager and they had tossed trash all over his parents’ yard.

  When the isopod turned a corner, Father took off running. It felt awkward at first as the handguns bounced around precariously, but a firm claw on each one kept them steady enough that he was moderately confident he wouldn’t accidentally shoot anything.

  He turned around the corner, only to find the isopod waiting for him with little gray arms crossed.

  “What do you want?”

  The isopod’s beady eyes flicked down to the guns in Father’s waistband. “I don’t carry cash.”

  “I don’t want your cash.” Father pulled his claws away from the weapons. “I need to find Mister Logs.”

  The isopod took a step back. “Bad idea.”

  “I know. But I need to find him. It’s important. What’s your name?”

  “Pleven.” The isopod raised four arms. “Don’t kill me.”

  “I’m not going to kill you, Pleven.” Father let his arms hang at his sides. He hoped it looked less intimidating, but the isopod’s eyes stayed on the guns.

  “No, it’s Pleven.”

  “I said Pleven.”

  “No. Pleven.”

  Father nodded. “Right. I hear the difference.”

  Pleven slowly lowered his arms. “You really want to see Mister Logs?”

  “I have to. He knows something that might help me.” Father extended a claw. “I’m Father.”

  “Pleven.” The isopod shook the claw.

  “Will you help me?”

  Pleven shifted his weight back and forth awkwardly on his two legs. “I could, I know, but . . . if you aren’t going to hurt me, Mister Logs will.”

  Father tapped a claw against one of the guns. “There’s a reason I have these.”

  “To rob isopods on their way to work?” Pleven put six arms up.

  “No, Pleven. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Pleven.”

  “Yeah, right. Can you just show me where to go?” Father looked past the isopod to see if anything stood out on this new street. He had definitely driven by before, but he couldn’t recall ever walking down the street or looking at what obscure businesses existed in the shadows.

  “It’s just Trash Co.”

  “Where is Trash Co. located?”

  Pleven pointed with all of his arms to no specific location down the street.

  “Aren’t you going to be late for work?” Father asked.

  “I’ll tell Mister Logs someone was holding me up at gunpoint.” Pleven used a single arm to point at the guns. “Like those.”

  “I’m not holding you up. Please go to work.” Father took a step away. “I’ll follow from a distance so Mister Logs doesn’t know you talked to me.”

  Pleven took a step away. When Father didn’t move, Pleven took another step away. He turned and ran as fast as he could, which was still just an odd waddle. Father watched from the corner until Pleven pulled open a door and disappeared inside a building about halfway down.

  “Here we go,” Father said. He pulled both handguns from his waistband and hurried down the street. By the time Father reached about halfway to the door Pleven entered, a garage door loudly opened.

  Father pressed himself against the wall and waited.

  A massive garbage truck backed out, beeping the whole way. Little green lights blinked all across the side, making it easy to make out in the dim light. Two isopods sat in the cabin.

  Father didn’t want to admit it, but he had no idea if either one was Pleven.

  The truck started down the road without noticing Father. He hurried inside the garage before the door finished closing, and soon found himself in a room darker than the trench outside.

  Some faint voices came from rooms beyond, but he needed to get through the garbage garage first. Father inched forward, testing his footing. The room seemed surprisingly clear. Each step was still cautious, but other than a slope pointing toward the garage door, the room was flat and clean.

  If Mister Logs knew anything about the Reef or where they were keeping his Son, Father was going to force every piece of information out of the garbage mogul. If what the lobster said was correct, Mister Logs had ties with the Hardbody Crustaceans, and was maybe even a crime boss in his own right.

  Father didn’t know anything about gangs or organized crime in the modestly deep trench, but he would find and kill every criminal necessary to save his Son, whether they were part of the Hardbody Crustaceans or not.

  Father found some stairs on the left side of the room, then paused as a door opened.

  Two isopods walked inside and flicked the lights on.

  Father aimed his guns.

  “Yeah, he couldn’t even say my name right.” One isopod looked at Father with beady black eyes. He screamed and held all of his arms up.

  The other isopod grabbed a tire iron that was resting near the door and ran at Father.

  “I guess we’re doing this,” Father muttered. He waited until the isopod was close by but out of the tire iron’s reach before firing.

  The bullet pierced the soft underside of the isopod. It dropped the tire iron, curled up, and rolled down the stairs.

  “I knew it!” the other isopod shouted.

  “Pleven?”

  “No, Pleven!” He hopped on his feet. “I knew you were dangerous!”

  “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  Pleven gestured to the dead isopod with all of his arms. “You killed my friend!”

  “He was going to hurt me.”

  “You’re trespassing!”

  Father shrugged and continued up the stairs. He walked along the outside, keeping a close eye on Pleven all the way around. “If I walk through this door, are you going to follow me?”

  Pleven shifted between his feet uneasily and looked between the corpse of his friend and Father. “No?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” Father stepped through the open door and into the garbage collection offices.