The door opened onto sunshine.
Actual sunshine—warm, yellow, almost nostalgic. Birds chirped somewhere overhead. The air smelled like fresh-cut grass and chlorine. After hedges that hunted and chainsaws that learned, it felt like stepping into a lie so obvious it almost worked.
Zeke blinked. "Oh come on."
They stood at the edge of a quiet suburban street. Sidewalks. Lawns. Houses painted in friendly pastels. A radio played faintly somewhere, tinny and upbeat, the kind of music meant to make you smile whether you wanted to or not.
Julie didn't smile.
Her HUD scrolled calmly:
LEVEL FIVE: WEIRD KIDS ON THE BLOCK
No warning text. No ominous subheader.
Just that.
From Zeke's belt, the First Toy hummed with faint amusement. "Relax," it said. "This one's fun."
"That's not comforting," Zeke muttered.
A pickup glowed at their feet—an oversized spray can with a hazard-yellow label.
WEEDKILLER.
Zeke lifted it, feeling the reassuring heft. His HUD ticked upward.
"Six hundred shots?" he said. "Why do I suddenly feel like the HOA is the final boss?"
Julie crouched and examined the nearest patch of weeds pushing up through a cracked driveway. The leaves twitched slightly, as if reacting to her shadow.
"They're alive," she said flatly.
Zeke sprayed.
A thick green mist burst from the nozzle, and the weeds recoiled instantly, shriveling into harmless mulch.
Julie nodded. "Good. They don't like that."
They moved east down the road, the cheerful music following them like an unwanted escort. At the end of the street, a bin rattled faintly in the breeze. Zeke kicked it open out of habit.
Nothing jumped out.
He frowned. "That never happens."
They turned southeast into a narrow path between a house and a hedgerow. The grass here was taller, darker. Ahead, a small fenced yard opened up—and in it stood a soldier, back pressed to the fence, clutching two bazookas like they were emotional support animals.
Behind him, something pulsed.
A Pod Plant.
It looked like a swollen gourd embedded in the ground, its surface split with glowing veins. Around it, thick weeds spread in a slow, aggressive crawl.
"Get him first," Julie snapped.
Zeke burst forward, spraying the weeds to clear a path while Julie covered him. A pair of Mushroom Men popped up near the fence—stubby, wobbling things with blank faces—but Zeke knocked them aside with a quick burst.
The soldier bolted the moment the Pod Plant screeched.
SAVED.
Zeke didn't wait. He leveled a bazooka and fired.
The Pod Plant exploded in a shower of green sludge and curling vines. The weeds withered instantly.
Julie exhaled. "One down."
They exited the yard and moved south along an alley. A key glinted near the far end. Zeke scooped it up just as a voice cried out.
A teacher stood near a patch of weeds by the eastern fence, frozen mid-step.
Zeke sprayed the ground around her while Julie pulled her free.
SAVED.
Julie pointed northwest. "There's another pod."
They found it squatting beside a house, weeds thick enough to sting Zeke's ankles when he stepped too close. He sprayed, hissed as the weeds bit back, then adjusted and cleared them properly.
The Pod Plant burst apart—and something clinked onto the pavement beneath it.
A key.
Julie raised an eyebrow. "They hide things."
The First Toy chimed in, pleased. "The environment is learning."
"That's worse," Zeke said.
They ducked into the nearby house. Inside, it felt… normal. Too normal. Furniture. Family photos. Cupboards.
Julie opened them methodically. Supplies spilled out: a First Aid Kit, odds and ends, nothing dangerous.
They exited through the back, looped around, and found another open door into a small side room. One more cupboard. One more glance over their shoulders.
Back outside, they doubled south and then west into a hedge-lined alley.
A baby stood at the far end.
Zeke's heart jumped. "Got you."
Julie slowed him with a hand. "Wait."
The air shimmered.
A figure stepped out of nothing, directly beside the baby.
It looked like Zeke.
Same height. Same jacket. Same dumb haircut.
The Doppelganger smiled and lunged.
Zeke fired on instinct. The shot passed straight through it like light through fog—but the thing recoiled anyway, shrieking as it dissolved into green distortion.
Julie grabbed the baby and ran.
SAVED.
Zeke stared at where the thing had been. "Did that just—"
"Yes," Julie said. "And don't think about it."
They moved south, then west again. Another key lay near a bend. To the northeast, a dog sat calmly beside a fence, tail wagging, utterly unconcerned by the apocalypse.
Zeke stopped. "Please tell me we save the dog."
Julie didn't hesitate. "Yes."
They looped back around the house, entered through the front door, and found another baby inside the southern room. Julie scooped it up automatically.
SAVED.
On a nearby table lay strange items: silverware… and plates.
Zeke picked one up. "Why does this feel like foreshadowing?"
"Because it is," the First Toy said cheerfully.
They exited through another door, collected another key, and moved northwest into a wide yard. A Barbecue Guy stood near a cold grill, staring at the sky like he was trying to remember how this had all gone wrong.
Zeke cleared weeds. Julie guided him out.
SAVED.
South of the yard, the grass changed color.
A crater scarred the ground, glowing faintly green. Doppelgangers flickered in and out of existence here, stepping from nowhere and vanishing again like bad ideas.
"This is their nest," Julie murmured.
Zeke felt the pull—the gamer itch to clear it, to rack up points—but he shook his head. "Not worth it."
They detoured briefly northwest through a fence gap for supplies—water pistol, bin, key—then doubled back and entered a house at the western edge.
Inside: a baby, more weedkiller, and another cupboard.
SAVED.
Zeke blasted through a hedge outside, clearing a path through aggressive weeds. A Mystery Potion waited at the end like a dare.
He pocketed it but didn't drink.
"Later," he said.
They headed north, then east, and hit a trampoline embedded absurdly in someone's yard.
Zeke bounced lightly and landed south of it. Ahead, the final Pod Plant writhed near an alley. He sprayed and destroyed it cleanly.
Beyond it, at the far end of the alley, stood a cheerleader.
Zeke started toward her—
"Wait," Julie snapped.
Zeke froze.
Julie pointed to a bin near the cheerleader's position. "If that pops a Bogeyman…"
The cheerleader jumped in place nervously, mid-hop.
Zeke waited.
Julie waved. "Now!"
The cheerleader landed and ran.
SAVED.
Only then did Zeke open the bin.
Nothing crawled out.
They looped north and entered the southwest house. Inside waited another First Aid Kit, more cupboards—and a cheerleader in the next room, hugging herself like she'd been holding that pose for hours.
Julie guided her out.
SAVED.
They exited south, skirted the weeds carefully, and used the northeast yard exit. The path led to a quiet pool.
A man floated lazily in the water, utterly relaxed.
Zeke stared. "Sir?"
The Pool Guy blinked, sat up, saw them, and screamed. He scrambled out and bolted just as the Exit Door shimmered into existence behind him.
SAVED.
The music softened. The street felt calmer—not safe, but… quieter.
Zeke exhaled. "That one was… weird."
Julie nodded. "Yeah. Because nothing chased us."
The First Toy chuckled. "Not everything hunts. Some things replace."
Zeke grimaced. "I liked the chainsaws better."
The exit door pulsed, waiting.
Behind them, somewhere in the neighborhood, a lawn sprinkler clicked on.
And then off.
They stepped through.