The street was on fire.
Not metaphorically. Actually on fire. A hedge burned like it had insulted the laws of nature, monsters poured out of alleyways, and somewhere nearby a chainsaw revved with personal enthusiasm.
Zeke vaulted a fence, skidded to a stop, and shoulder-checked a cheerleader just as a zombie lunged for her. She vanished in a pop of sparkles and gratitude.
+1000
Zeke grinned. "See? Still counts."
Juile landed beside him, boots crunching glass. "You didn't save her," she said. "You converted her."
"Semantics."
They ran again, cutting through a backyard where a baby crawled in lazy circles, blissfully unaware of the apocalypse happening at stroller height.
Juile scooped the baby up by running straight through it.
+700
The baby disappeared. The points chimed.
Juile exhaled. "I hate that it rewards us differently."
Zeke glanced sideways. "Different how?"
She dodged a spider and fired without looking. "Cheerleaders are worth more than babies. Babies more than dogs. Teachers barely register."
"Hey," Zeke said, offended on principle. "Teachers deserve better than ten points."
"The system disagrees."
They reached a momentary lull—just enough space to think without being eaten. Zeke leaned against a mailbox, blasting a werewolf that tried to argue with physics.
"So they're our neighbors," he said. "That's the story, right? Normal people. Same streets. Same lawns. We're not heroes—we're just… defending the block."
Juile nodded. "That's the framing. Dr. Tongue builds monsters. Monsters hunt neighbors. We clean house."
"And walking into them saves them," Zeke added. "Which is still weird. You'd think there'd be a hug or something."
"There is," Juile said flatly. "It's just converted into points."
They crossed another yard. A barbecue guy waved frantically near a grill that had clearly started the fire on purpose.
Zeke barreled into him.
+105
He winced. "Wow. Buddy, you are not valued."
Juile didn't slow down. "Neither are soldiers. Pool guys. Teachers."
They passed a swimming pool where a man flailed dramatically, monsters closing in.
Zeke hesitated—half a second too long.
Juile snapped, "Move."
He ran, clipped the man.
+100
Zeke frowned. "So let me get this straight. We start the game with ten Victims. Every level. No matter what kind."
"Yes."
"And the level doesn't end until they're all either saved or dead."
"Yes."
"And if we don't save any—if the monsters wipe them all out—"
"Instant game over," Juile finished. "Even if we're alive. Even if we're armed to the teeth."
Zeke swallowed. "So from the game's point of view… the neighbors matter more than we do."
"They're the objective," Juile said. "We're just the delivery system."
They reached a cul-de-sac. A tourist couple stood frozen, cameras raised, smiling like this was a brochure.
Zeke slowed instinctively.
Juile grabbed his arm. "Not yet."
"What?"
"Timing," she said. "They're low value. Two hundred points. And if we trigger them too early—"
"They flip," Zeke said quietly. "Werewolves."
"Tourists are not Victims," Juile said. "They're conditional hazards pretending to be people."
The couple waved cheerfully.
Zeke stared at them. "That's… incredibly dark."
Juile checked her radar. Dots everywhere. "The system doesn't care who they are. Only what they're worth, and how long they've been alive."
They sprinted past the tourists, dove into a side street, rescued a dog mid-leap.
+500
Zeke laughed despite himself. "Okay, that one felt good."
"Dogs rank surprisingly high," Juile said. "Probably because they don't hesitate."
The Exit Door shimmered into existence at the end of the street.
Zeke slowed. "So if we do well—score high—we can earn back Victims we lost."
"Yes."
"But if we play sloppy, panic, let the monsters clean house—"
"We don't just lose the level," Juile said. "We lose the right to continue."
Zeke looked back at the neighborhood. Empty now. No neighbors. Just smoke and monsters.
"They call them Victims," he said. "But the real victims are the ones the system decides aren't worth spawning."
Juile stepped toward the Exit Door. "Don't anthropomorphize the rules."
He followed. "Too late."
The door swallowed them.
Somewhere behind them, the tourists finally noticed the moon.