- At this day and age, they don’t exist anymore.

  - What I’m talking about is... you.

  -It’s not a duty per se, but people should be in the know like you are. At least about most things. Helps keep everyone on the same page.

  -Unless you're actively hiding information, which is a whole 'nother shebang.

  ---

  Early morning.

  Harun cooked beans straight from the can. Wasn’t gourmet. Wasn’t even good. But it was edible, warm-ish, and didn’t make us violently ill. That’s called a win.

  "We’re checking how effective you are, and where your skillsets lie," I told the dynamic duo across the fire.

  I caught the weight in my tone. Serious. Hard-edged. Still locked in Gail Mode.

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  So I course-corrected.

  "Think of this like your Session 0," I said, lightening my voice. "Me and Harun as your DMs. This is us checking your stats, skills, and class. Helps you understand your limits, abilities, and how much XP you’re worth."

  Harun, still chewing, jumped in. "That’s right! Supervised loot run, baby!"

  Max nodded like this was a classroom.

  Nora just said, "Okay."

  I think we rattled them.

  Good.

  Nervousness breeds caution.

  But not too much, I hoped. We needed them alert, not frozen.

  Five days till Cleveland.

  ---

  By afternoon, we found an open-air plaza. Once a farmer’s market. Now a smell museum.

  Rotting fruits, meat, veggies. Flies everywhere. Scattered tents. Collapsed signs. And a death scent thick enough to chew.

  Most likely got blindsided on Day 1. You could almost picture the panic. Shopping bags still full. Produce crushed underfoot. A hand clutching a turnip in rigor mortis.

  We kept low behind a toppled fruit stand. In the distance: seven zombies. Normals. Wandering.

  Open space. Good visibility. Not ideal for ambushes. Pretty ideal for a training run.

  "Harun and I will be close," I said. "But not that close. We’ll bail you out if you’re about to die, but that doesn’t mean you can be dumb. Fight with a butterfly knife, sting like a beetch."

  Got a chuckle out of Harun. Max, too.

  Nora didn’t even blink.

  Tough crowd.

  I handed Max a butterfly knife. Not fancy. Light. Quick. Very stabby.

  Harun gave Nora a pipe wrench. Heavy. Blunt. Simple.

  "Quick recap," Harun said, slipping into instructor mode. "Normals are the standard. Variants have weird traits—speed, strength, spines, acid puke, you name it. Leaders? Surrounded by normals, variants, or both. They're weak like normals but smarter than all of them."

  Nora nodded. She got it.

  Max looked like his brain was buffering.

  "You'll learn by doing," I said.

  I pointed toward the plaza.

  "Welcome to your first dungeon."

  They stepped out from cover.

  Harun and I stayed back. Close enough to help. Far enough to see if they’d drown.

  Information is power. But experience?

  That’s what decides if you get to use it.