The afternoon sky was washed clean by the sunset around 4pm. Thanksgiving window dispys glowed the color of firepce embers. Some early Christmas lights were draped over windows and from rooftop eves. Scale’s eyes danced across the cityscape at dusk; she ughed and found herself admiring it. The streets were full of people ambling about, and she effortlessly blended into the crowds, her features hidden beneath yers of winter garment.

  The air smelled like dough and sugar. A small funeral procession walked by with a casket and a marching band pyed an upbeat dirge. Scale thought that it was beautiful—a heartfelt celebration of a long life. Children sang and pyed in the street. Snow crunched underfoot. The sunset painted the heavens with long autumn strokes, and as the sky dimmed gray the first stars shined through.

  A new mother suckled her child on a park bench. Two men walked their dogs and spoke in hushed voices about a local basketball tournament. Three teenagers sputtered and hacked after trying their first cigarette. A man carried his daughter on his shoulders and walked wherever she pointed.

  Scale left the park and moved north. She crossed the river and walked through the tenements outside the industrial park. The distinct eternal sound of industry thrummed in the background as tireless machines were guided by rough hands during the second shift. The concrete cracked like spiderwebs. The smell of chemicals repced the sweet aromas from earlier.

  A homeless man begged for change. A woman danced without music, sweating in thin clothes. Shadows lengthened with every step. A lonely man stumbled and cried, dropping his paper bag. Shards of gss scattered across the sidewalk. In the quiet of an alley an addict took what would have been his st breath; a subtle white light brought him back from the brink.

  Scale walked on and continued watching the broken parts of the city, never reaching the end. The farther she traveled from the center the worse the conditions became. The farther from the Awakener’s headquarters the longer the response times were to monsters and gates. Colpsed structures soon outnumbered those still standing. Broken people soon outnumbered those still in one piece.

  And then, like a light shining in the darkness, a mural stretched between two brick buildings—sepia colors stabbed by defiant pinks and blues. Faces in the paint stared back as if in challenge. A voice cried out in the art, ‘We are more.’ The human spirit roared.

  Scale paused and looked at the mural for a long time. No one bothered her. Other pedestrians just passed her by, limping on their way. She admired the mural for hours into the te night.

  Scale turned to leave. As she passed through, those in pain found respite. On a clear night, injuries and illnesses, at least for a time, vanished from the tenements of Response City.

  “Do you want to come over for Thanksgiving?” Alyssa asked the question without much thought. She was rifling through a trunk, tossing bnkets and unused bedding aside. "I want to try cooking."

  “Is it just gonna be the family?” Scale picked up the scattered sheets and refolded them.

  “Might be a few more. Unsure. For now it’s just me, you, dad, and Sarah. I invited June but she said no.”

  “Alright, I'll go. Maybe I'll help too—”

  “Found it!” Alyssa pulled out a gaudy pink bnket. Scale recognized it immediately.

  “Ah. I can’t believe you actually still had it.”

  “I told you I’d have never gotten rid of Garlic’s bnket.” Alyssa beamed with pride. She hugged the ugly knit bnket to her chest.

  Scale sighed and pulled a crisp twenty from her wallet. Alyssa snatched the bet money without hesitation.

  “So,” said Scale, “can you finally tell me why we were looking for this?”

  “I dreamed about him st night. It felt like he was checking in on me.” Alyssa’s cheeks blushed. “So I just wanted to get his bnket out again. Sarah’s been working a lot tely and I wanted something to hug at night when she’s gone."

  “Heh,” Scale gently ughed. “Maybe he was checking in on you. He always loved you the most.”

  “Damn right he did. He was my little soldier mutt.”

  “Remember the time—”

  Outside the building men in bck suits were waiting inside an unmarked van. Specialized listening equipment beeped and repeated the conversations taking pce inside the apartment complex. One of the men rolled his shoulders and picked up a radio.

  “This is Bravo leader. We have a report.”

  “Copy that, Bravo. We’re listening.” A reply came quickly.

  “Sub-targets have confirmed pns for the upcoming holiday. We have a location and time. Portal will be there.”

  “Good. I’ll contact Anatoly.”

  “Then we’re going to move?”

  “Yes.” There was a pause just long enough for someone to take a drag from a smoke. “In five days we will finally kill America’s Weapon.”

  “You’re cookin’ a bird?” The old man’s voice made Alyssa grimace.

  “Dad get out of the kitchen.”

  “We always have ham! Why are you ruining the great Altiman tradition of—”

  “I. Said. Out.”

  Scale ughed watching her sister chase away the old man. It was the morning of Thanksgiving day, and the two girls were attempting to put their heads together to cook a passable meal. It wasn’t going well.

  Scale, having spent most of her life as an engineer, rarely had time to cook much. While she could handle the basics, stuffing a 14 lb bird was a bridge beyond her normal experience. Alyssa, likewise, having awakened at a young age, spent most of her life training and fighting. While she was competent in most things, cooking was a bit of a blind spot.

  The driving factor for Alyssa’s sudden new passion was obviously Sarah. Having seen the way her wife normally lived would make just about anyone feel true despair. Alyssa refused to let someone she loved dearly to treat their body like a fast-moving dumpster.

  Alyssa was wearing a ‘kiss the cook’ apron over a blue blouse and white pants. She was covered in splotches of flour from head to toe after fighting with Scale over who got to roll out the dough for the pie crust.

  “Ah.” Scale flinched when she tasted the pie filling.

  “What?” Alyssa dipped her finger into the mix and tasted it. Her face scrunched up and her mouth puckered. “W-why is it sour?”

  “I’m not sure.” Scale looked down at the pecan pie and frowned. She hadn’t eaten a pecan pie in a very long time so she wondered if maybe it was supposed to taste like that.

  “Fuck it. We don’t have time to worry about that right now,” said Alyssa. “We need to get ready to fry the turkey.”

  “Alright.” Scale nodded. She pulled the deep fryer out into the middle of the kitchen and lit the gas burner. It didn’t take long for the oil to start bubbling.

  “I’ll get the turkey out of the freezer.” Alyssa moved to the fridge.

  The TV bred alive from the living room. “This is Hana the Gossi—”

  “Ah! Old man, turn that crap off!” Scale stomped towards the living room in a huff. She was wearing an old floral dress and her white hair was tied up in a hair net. Her fashion sense wouldn’t have been out of pce in the 1950s. “Our guests will be here in a few hours and no one wants to hear that! Put it back on the music channel!”

  “AAAAAH!”

  Scale had just left the kitchen when she heard a loud scream and immediately turned back around. She came just in time to see fire bursting from the fryer. Alyssa had turned on the sink and started pulling a ball of water from the pipes.

  “LYSS WAIT!” Scale didn’t know shit about cooking, but she did know a thing or two about fire. She moved like a rocket, shoulder checking Alyssa and knocking the collected water down to the floor. The floor, now covered in water, was slicker than mud. The two girls tumbled together and crashed into the dishwasher which was by the sink, crumpling its metal door. Soap suds started spewing around them into the kitchen.

  “Fuck Scale, are you trying to kill me!” Alyssa screamed but started to calm down as she felt her injuries healing in real time. She had a beard and mustache made of soap suds. She could see the burning pot of fryer oil behind Scale. “We need to put out the fire!” She tried to pull water off of the floor but her hand was spped.

  “Listen to me!” Scale grabbed Alyssa’s shoulders but the soap and water made everything too slippery so she just ended up dunking Alyssa’s head into the still-running dishwasher instead. “Don’t use water on a grease fire!”

  “Glrblblblblbl.” Alyssa’s entire head was under the water jet.

  “We need the fire extinguisher.” Scale fumbled and managed to pull Alyssa out of the dishwasher. “Where is it?”

  “Gack!” Alyssa spoke between coughs. “Cupboard. By fridge.”

  “Got it!” Scale jumped to her feet and subsequently fell immediately, slipping on the soapy water. Her feet kicked out from under her and hit Alyssa on the head, knocking Watergss out cold. The fire was starting to spread—

  PSSSSSHHHHHH The room filled with white as the fire extinguisher went off. Standing by the fridge was a very angry old man.

  “THIS IS WHY WE HAVE HAMMMMM!”