Eve walked down a narrow street in a quiet downtown district in the Janus Quarter, holding a folder of fresh documents against her chest.
She stopped in front of a two-story building with the words "Yummy Bakeries" painted in big, colorful letters above the door in bold, swirly font with a bite mark carved into the 'Y'.
This was baking HQ, a rented industrial kitchen where all of Yummy's treats were currently being made and eventually delivered to Coff Caffè.
She slipped on her hairnet, apron, gloves, and then stepped inside the building kitchen Yummy had rented for baking. It wasn't fancy, but it was clean, spacious, and smelled like cinnamon dreams.
And standing in the middle of it all was a man who looked like a protein powder commercial had come to life.
"ALEXI!" Eve greeted.
The 6'7" slab of muscle turned toward her with a toothy smile that could blind a satellite, a sparkle in his eye and a bowl of rising dough in his hands.
"Evelyn! Good morning! You came! I told you we should do morning yoga before shift!"
"Nope," Eve replied, setting her folder down on a clean counter. "Still not joining your cult."
"It's not cult. It's hypertrophy enlightenment," he said, flexing his tricep. Its vascular blue veins pulsed every time he did.
"Thank you but no thank you, I don't need any of that, I just came to sort out some documents," she said, looking around.
"Come on, Valentine! You have such good base genetics. All you need is to bulk, shred, then tone! Maybe eight to twelve months of HIIT, and you'll be a whole new woman."
"I like my current woman just fine," she said, slapping a folder against his chest.
Alexi grinned, undeterred. "You know, fat can store emotions. When you're stressed, it's because the fat remembers your sadness."
Eve gave him a long, dead-eyed stare. "I'm two seconds away from stress-punching your pancreas."
"Do it. It's great core training."
WHAM!
She did. Hard. Just enough to make a point.
"—Ow," she muttered. She hated how solid he felt. Like punching a slab of reinforced concrete with an eight-pack.
He laughed and flexed again. "Yes! Again, but to the obliques this time!"
"I swear to God, if you say 'glute activation' in the next two minutes—"
"Glute—"
"Shut it." She raised her hand. "Why are you even a baker?" she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.
He held up a loaf of bread. "I break bread to test strength and quality. Like life. Soft on the inside. Firm on the outside. Also—baking is art. And carbs are love."
Eve had no response to that. He always won when he got philosophical. At the far end of the kitchen, a familiar voice called out, lazy and cheerful: "Yo."
Tata was wearing a lab coat far too big for his tiny five-year-old body, sleeves rolled halfway up. He stood on a small stool, blowtorch in hand, caramelizing sugar on a tray of mini tarts.
"Hey, boss," Eve called out, keeping a good distance. "No open flames near the fondant, remember last week?"
"I got it under control!" he said, not even turning around. He pointed behind him to a tray of pastries. "Try those."
He waved his available hand and pointed toward a tray of pastries cooling nearby. She walked over and picked up one of the test products they'd discussed during the last team meeting.
She took a bite. "Mmm. Okay. Yeah, these are good. Or how the kids say—'This slaps'."
Tata finally turned off the torch and hopped down, wiping his hands on a napkin. "Good or very good?"
"Very good."
Tata smirked. "I call them Sweet Baby Regrets."
"Well, Baby Regrets have nuts in them," she muttered, licking her fingers. "We'll need to separate prep areas. Or maybe we can use that empty basement we haven't touched yet."
"Got it," Tata said. "We will use the basement kitchen for nut stuff. It's empty, right?"
"Still full of old chairs and mystery buckets full of who knows what, but yeah. Empty."
Tata gave her a thumbs-up, then climbed up onto a high stool to go over the documents she'd brought.
"Okay," she said, pointing. "The business license came in. The full food handling permit, kitchen clearance, Yummy's patents and name rights are finally certified under the New Eridu Protection Service. Temporary ownership all signed off."
"Everything's currently under Enzo's name for legal reasons until you're sixteen."
"I'll be sixteen soon," Tata said confidently.
"You'll be six!"
"Same difference."
"Remind me to bake you a gratitude tart," he said with a wink.
Eve rolled her eyes, smiling. "Anyway. That means we're clear to go full commercial with Yummy. We still have about 29 million Dennies in the budget."
Now that everything was finally registered, the next goal was expanding. Not just delivering to Coff Caffès—but pushing Yummy as a street-food powerhouse. And Tata had the perfect idea...
"Truck time!" Tata shouted, practically vibrating in place.
"Exactly. I found a used food truck listing on the Inter-Knot. Interior's solid, exterior's beat up, but Enzo could probably fix it in a week or two."
With Enzo's car repair skills and Tata's budget—29 million Dennies left in the fund—it was easily doable.
The only issue being?
Tata nodded. "Where is it?"
"…Samba Town."
The kitchen went quiet for a second.
Alexi dropped a bread pan. "Samba Town?! Are you insane? I've seen horror documentaries about that place."
Tata tilted his head. "Isn't that the place with the cool graffiti and eight barbershops on every corner?"
"And a 1-in-3 chance of being mugged before noon," Eve added.
"But the truck's perfect!" Tata said, spinning around in his chair. "And the seller wants us to see it in person before making a deal, doesn't he?"
"That place is practically a Level 3 hazard zone," Eve stressed.
"Come on," Tata said. "That's just rumors."
Alexi jumped in. "Rumors, right. Like the one about Samba being the impact site of the dinosaur-killing meteor. Or the one that claimed it once housed a Hollow so big it was on par with the one on the moon."
"And more recently, it has become a hotspot for gangs, bootleg Ether drugs, and half-legal street brawls. New Eridu kept threatening to seal the whole place off permanently."
Still, the seller insisted on in-person inspection. And for a deal this sweet, Tata wasn't passing it up.
Alexi crossed his arms. "I'm not going. My muscles aren't insured for gang territory."
"I wasn't gonna ask you," Tata said, grinning. "I'm going myself."
"You're five!"
"I'll bring my emergency whistle."
"You're seriously thinking of going alone?" Eve asked, arms crossed as she stood in the middle of the bakery's kitchen.
"Yep. My eyes, my gut. I trust them more than a stranger's Yelp review," Tata replied.
Eve sighed. "Tata, it's Samba Town. You know, black market capital, low survival rate, exploding trash cans? Maybe we could hire someone local. You know, not a five-year-old?"
"I'm five and three quarters," Tata corrected.
Eve pinched the bridge of her nose, for what felt like the tenth time today. "That makes it worse."
Eve sighed and knelt beside him. "Alright, look. If you're going, and I can't believe I'm saying this, you are not going alone. Take Steve, or even me."
"I'm the boss."
"And I'm the adult," she said, tapping his forehead with her pen.
Eve narrowed her eyes. "This isn't a school field trip, Tata. It's Samba Town. People go missing just trying to cross the street."
He shrugged. "And people die slipping on soap. Danger is everywhere."
"Soap doesn't have a black market."
Alexi walked by right then, still sniffing loaves of bread to check freshness. "Soap doesn't build muscle either," he chimed in without context.
Eve didn't even blink. "Please don't start."
Alexi smiled. "I'm just saying, danger makes us stronger! I jogged through the South Gate once and came back with a sprained ankle and spiritual growth."
Tata pointed. "See? He lived."
Eve sighed deeply, muttering under her breath as she rubbed her temples. "You're all idiots."
She glared. "At least let me come with you."
"Nope."
"Then let me hire someone to go in your place."
"Nuh-uh."
"…At least take a taser?"
"I got Lighter."
She stared at him like she was waiting for a better answer. It never came.
"I'm going, with you. You have no say in this. I'll inform Enzo if he'll even let you go, and that's final." Eve put her foot down. He may be her boss, but she also felt responsible for his safety.
On her way out, Alexi grinned and said, "Eve! Why don't you join me in purging the unnecessary flesh in the afternoon? Abs are the true armor of the soul."
CRACK!
Eve stomped down hard on his foot with the precision of a nail gun. Alexi didn't flinch.
Instead, he gasped like he'd just found a new flavor of pain. "Such... discipline!" he muttered. "Incredible form. Again?"
"You're unbelievable," she snapped, storming out.
Alexi leaned toward Tata, whispered, "She's warming up to me."
Tata gave him a raised brow. "Whatever you say, big guy. Break time's over, let's get started on the sourdough."
---
Later that night…
Back home, Eve stood on her bathroom scale, bracing herself like it was the final boss. Eyes shut tight, she peeked.
Then she gasped.
"…Oh no," she squeaked, her voice shaking, while clutching her waist like it had personally wronged her.
She jabbed her waist with her finger. Pudge. It made a soft, bouncy sound that echoed in her soul.
---
Her daughter, Vanessa, walked in a few minutes later and found her mom mid-Zumba session, flailing in front of the TV while a sparkly, over-energetic Thiren cat lady in yoga pants shouted, "Activate the buns! Power the hips! Whip that weight away!"
Vanessa blinked. "Mom… are you okay?"
"Just being... proactive!" Eve wheezed, tripping over a cushion. "Now pass me the resistance band!"
Vanessa blinked. "…We don't have one."
"Then get the vacuum cord!"
"…"
---
Tata zipped up a hoodie over his pajamas, snuck out the front door with a stuffed backpack, and left a note taped to the fridge that read:
[Gone to buy a truck. Don't wait up. Love, your favorite future billionaire.]
Tupa and the old man were passed out, the house completely silent except for the occasional snoring from a sleeping Bangboo.
------
At the empty bus station on the edge of New Eridu, Tata sat on a metal bench, swinging his legs, waiting for the late night coach to the mountain border.
When the bus pulled up, its headlights cutting through the fog, the driver popped the door open and gave Tata a long look.
"…Kid, you lost?"
"Nope, im exactly where I need to be." Tata said, climbing up and tossing his backpack into the seat beside him.
The driver stared at him a second longer, then muttered, "This city's getting weirder," and started the engine.
A few minutes into the drive, bored and bouncing slightly in his seat, Tata leaned forward.
"You from Samba Town?"
"Born and raised."
That perked Tata up. "Alright then, spill it. I've heard like, ten different stories about that place. Which one's real?"
"What you've heard is probably true, so just take it that way... a piece of advice, I wouldn't go to Samba Town. Though some things are exaggerated, not everything is. It really isn't a place for a lone kid to be wandering."
"Hehe, don't you worry about lil ol' me. But seriously, since you're a local, you must know the true history of Samba Town."
The driver gave him a side glance. "You sure you're ready for it?"
"I've eaten gas station sushi," Tata said confidently. "I can handle anything."
The driver smirked and adjusted the rearview mirror.
"Alright then. Long ago, before the gangs, before the broken towers, Samba Town wasn't called that. Some called it 'Sun Gate.' Others just called it 'The Zone.' But it doesn't matter what it was called, what mattered was its purpose.
Samba Town—originally—was meant to be the true capital of humanity."
"!!!!!"
Tata's eyes widened, chewing on his licorice, now 100 percent invested in true towns true origins...
------
A.N
If we get 20 power stones by the end of the week I'll upload an extra chapter.
If you want to read 5 chapters ahead on Zzz:Prometheus or support me, my Patreon is: patreon.com/Prometheus_VII