The first thing Stark felt was the crunch of stone under his brittle cookie hands as he clawed his way upward. For what felt like years, he had been nothing but a prisoner in the rancid underworld of the sewers, paralyzed, mocked by time itself, and left alone with nothing but his own cracked singing voice. But now, after weeks of stinking paralysis, broken singing, and miscounted numbers, he was moving. Moving, and most importantly—
Light.
A jagged crack in the rubble above glowed faintly. His little diamond-cookie body scraped against stone, clawing through the last chunks of debris. His teeth ground against his own arms in frustration. And finally, with one last shove, he popped through a broken manhole cover, and landed face-first in a puddle.
Not sewer water.
Not slime.
Actual surface puddle water.
"Oh my GOD—FRESH AIR!" Stark screamed, gulping down the night air as though it were vegan ice cream. He immediately gagged. "Oh wait, nope. Nope. Nope. That's car exhaust. THAT'S OIL. WHO SPILLED OIL ON MY FIRST BREATH OF FREEDOM?!"
He staggered up on shaky legs, every crumb of his body rattling. His surface debut was less triumphant and more like a raccoon climbing out of a trash can. His once shiny diamond-cookie body was cracked, smeared with poop, and dusted with the remains of the pizza beast.
But still—he was alive.
[ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Congratulations, Stark. You have successfully entered the Surface World. ]
"Oh great, another announcement," Stark grumbled, wiping sludge off his face. "Go ahead, System. Tell me I'm still trash."
[ New Quest: Survive on the Surface. Sub-Quest: Find Shelter before Dawn. ]
Stark's little cookie eyes blinked. "Wait. Dawn? What happens at dawn? Does the sun just… toast me like bread? I am a cookie!"
[ Warning: Surface predators increase activity during dawn hours. Failure to find shelter will result in certain destruction. ]
"Oh. Oh, COOL. Yeah, no pressure. Just escape sewers, crawl out half-dead, and now survive an open world filled with predators. Why not?!"
He looked around. The surface wasn't what he expected. He had always imagined flowers, grass, maybe some deer eating peacefully. Instead, towering buildings leaned against the sky. Neon lights flickered. Meat vendors grilled slabs of flesh on open fires, the stench stabbing Stark's nose like knives. Humans walked the streets, stomping around with careless feet big enough to reduce him to cookie crumbs in one step.
"This is hell," Stark whispered. "Hell, but louder."
He scurried behind a soda can, ducking just as a massive human shoe squished down where he had been standing.
"HEY!" Stark yelled up instinctively. "Watch it, you absolute meat factory!"
Of course, the human didn't hear. Just kept walking.
"Figures," Stark muttered. "When I want someone to hear me, no one does. But when I scream inside someone's colon, suddenly I'm the poop that talks."
⸻
Pigeons: The Sky-Rats
It didn't take long for him to realize the surface was crawling with threats.
His first encounter? Pigeons.
One flapped down right in front of him, head twitching, red eyes locked on him like Stark was some kind of leftover french fry.
"Oh no," Stark whispered. "Not today. Not after everything. I refuse to be pecked to death by a flying poop machine."
The pigeon cooed menacingly and took a step forward.
Stark backed up, raising his fists. "Don't test me. I've fought pizza beasts, swum in literal feces, and survived stomach acid baths. You think your beady little eyes scare me?!"
The pigeon lunged.
Stark screamed like a child and bolted into a storm drain. "AAAAAAAAA WHY ARE YOU SO FAST?!"
The pigeon's beak pecked at the drain bars, scraping, hungry for crumbs. Stark sat pressed against the wall, panting.
"I hate this world."
⸻
Meat Vendor Encounter
When he finally snuck back out, the streets were emptier, night deepening. That's when he smelled it.
Burning flesh.
He crept closer, hiding behind trash piles, and peeked around the corner. A meat vendor was grilling steaks, their sizzling flesh dripping fat onto the coals. The smell was overpowering. Humans crowded around, shoving money forward.
Stark gagged. "Ugh. Meat. Meat everywhere. And they say I'M disgusting for being covered in poop. At least poop is natural!"
But then his stomach growled.
He froze. "Wait. Hold up. Did I just—? No. NO. That was not hunger. I'm VEGAN. VEG-AN."
[ SYSTEM ALERT: Due to Diamond Cookie biology, your body does not require food. However, cravings may occur as you absorb ambient nutrients. ]
"So I just… phantom-hungry? Great. I've unlocked fake hunger. Love that for me."
One of the humans dropped a piece of steak on the ground. It sizzled. Stark stared. The smell stabbed into his mind.
He shook his head violently. "NO. NO. I will not eat dead animals! I'd rather—" He slipped, fell face-first into the steak.
"MMPH—OH GOD WHY—NO—" He spat, flailing until he freed himself from the greasy slab. His diamond-cookie body glistened with meat juice now.
"Oh wonderful. Just WONDERFUL. First poop, now steak grease. Someone just throw me into a vegan salad already. Please."
⸻
Almost Crushed
He kept moving, avoiding human feet like a tiny fugitive. But danger was everywhere.
At one point, a drunk human stumbled out of a bar, saw Stark wobbling down the sidewalk, and blinked.
"Bro… is that… a cookie?"
Stark froze.
The human crouched, hand reaching. "Yo, free cookie on the street!"
"FREE?! I'm priceless!" Stark screamed.
The hand lunged. Stark dove under a crate just as the man's fingers closed around air.
"What the…?" the drunk muttered. "I swear it moved."
⸻
System Interference
Finally, Stark found a quieter alley. He collapsed against a wall, exhausted, and let out a long sigh.
"This surface… it's worse than the sewers. At least the pizza beast didn't wear Nikes."
[ SYSTEM NOTICE: Stark, adapt. The Surface World is hostile, but survivable. Complete Quests to gain power. ]
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know the drill. Betray, survive, whatever. What's the reward this time? Another poop bath?"
[ Reward for surviving until dawn: Evolutionary Upgrade. ]
Stark froze. "Wait. Upgrade? Like… I can get stronger?"
[ Correct. But only if you survive. ]
"I can't survive, I don't got that plot armor."
He gulped. "Okay. Fine. Survive dawn. Easy. I just… need somewhere safe. No pigeons. No humans. No meat juice. Just quiet."
⸻
He dragged himself along the street, following shadows, slipping past trash bags and broken glass. He finally spotted an abandoned newspaper stand—small, empty, dark.
"Perfect," he whispered. "My new fortress of solitude. Stark the Cookie, king of…" He yawned. "…trash corner."
He crawled inside, curling up on old papers, finally feeling safe for the first time since crawling out of the human's digestive tract.
His eyes closed.
And then—
A shadow loomed over him.
Two glowing eyes stared down from the roof of the stand.
A voice hissed, low and hungry: "Another morsel on the surface… rare."
Stark's eyes shot open. "Oh HELL no. Not again."
The system chimed:
[ WARNING: Predator Detected. ]