The garage door opened, revealing a different world than the one we’d seen when the door closed.

“Mongo, Rend, stay here with Splashy and Dong. Guard Hedy,” Donut said from my shoulder.

Entering Hungry Eyes Village.

Entering your Team Roundabout.

From the garage, Mongo screamed in protest, waving his wings while Rend—wearing his new headband—also complained loudly. Dong gave us a salute as the garage door closed.

I blinked. We had a giant “7” painted on the outside of our gray garage door. I assumed that “7” meant we’d come in seventh place in our heat.

Welcome to Hungry Eyes. You are standing in your Team Roundabout.

Safe room rules apply.

I turned, examining the roundabout area. We stood facing a large asphalt cul-de-sac ringed by nine garage doorspainted with numbers from one to eight. The final, ninth door was still there, but it had a giant skull painted on it with red runny paint.

Above, a blue sky with a red sun blazed, and the air was a little hot. Tall trees ringed the small neighborhood, and the spaces between driveways were filled with manicured green grass. It gave me the strange sense we were standing in the suburbs. The whole place even smelled like recently cut grass.

The cul-de-sac was a complete circle. We could drive our truck out of the garage, but there would be nowhere to go after that. There was a small paved walking path between garage number one and the one with the skull. It led to a shimmering arched portal that wasn’t wide enough for our truck. Unlike with most portals, we could actually see through the flickering, glass-like threshold. Beyond it was a neon-filled settlement.

“Oi!” a voice called to my right. I turned to see a pair of bugbears sitting on lawn chairs. Radoslav and Jasha. Jasha had a kiddie pool on the ground in front of him with his furry feet within. The bugbear held a can of beer in his hand resting on his tie-dyed belly, and he wore sunglasses. He snored softly. The beer was slowly, slowly starting to tip.

Radoslav was the one who called us over. From their closed garage I could hear faint music playing. I recognized it as “Smoke on the Water” from Deep Purple.

“Hi, Radoslav!” Donut called.

“I’m glad to see you guys made it,” I said, stepping off the driveway and into the soft grass. Donut jumped from my shoulder, also landing in the grass. She did a quick circle and then rolled over on her back, her new crupper jingling softly before she jumped back up and moved to sniff at the kiddie pool.

This close, I could smell the alcohol wafting off the sleeping Jasha.

Radoslav reached down into a cooler, produced a can of beer, and tossed it at me. I caught it. It was an ice-cold Busch Light, peach flavored.

“Peach flavored?” I asked. “Uh, no, thanks.”

“Damn,” Radoslav said. “I was hoping someone would like the peach stuff. Doesn’t matter, I guess. You can keep it. Another one will appear in a minute. I’ll get you regular one.”

I pulled the peach beer into my inventory and caught the second can. This was just a regular Busch Light. I hesitated and then cracked it open. I took a drink and gave an appreciative nod. He pulled another and offered it to Donut.

“No, thank you,” said Donut.

The bugbear cracked the beer himself.

The garage door with the number four opened, revealing a dark space filled with white-and-brown fur.

“What is that thing?” I asked.

Donut peered hard at the darkness. “It’s a bear.”

Before I could ask for more clarification, three figures flipped out of the garage, spreading into the cul-de-sac in a V pattern. The three figures were bipedal, each about four feet tall, and they were literally somersaulting as they moved, feet over hands as they spread out. They made no noise whatsoever other than the soft smack of their hands and feet on the asphalt.

“Carl, what is happening?” Donut asked. “Are they attacking us?”

“Can’t attack out here,” I said.

“Today, I think I need harder stuff than just this beer,” Radoslav said. “Is like a madhouse.”

All three of the newcomers were decked out head to toe in bodysuits. The two on either side were in black suits. The one in the middle was in a red suit. Ninja suits. All three wore bandoliers covered with ninja stars. They turned and weaved around the cul-de-sac, flipping the whole time, like they were performing some sort of bizarre dance routine.

“Would you look at that!” Donut said, swishing her tail, watching. “Remember the monk seals from the eighth floor? Should I pull Raul out? He could probably use a friend.”

I tried to examine them, but I received an error.

You are unable to examine this creature. But it’s a ninja. You can see that much.

The middle, red-suited creature finished its performance at the end of the bugbears’ driveway, facing us. It did one final somersault and stopped, legs spread out in an attack position. It pulled something from its back and spread them out with two hands over its head.

Nunchucks.

It bowed slightly, arms up in the air.

“Hi!” Donut said, waving furiously.

The other two creatures in the dark ninja suits stopped to the left and right of the red ninja. They also took up ninja poses, but neither held weapons. Both gave slight bows and then remained immobile, just staring at us.

None of the short creatures moved beyond that.

Next to me, Radoslav grunted and took a pull of beer.

I couldn’t see what manner of NPC they were, as the suits completely covered them, though I already had a guess based on the shape of their faces. I’d never met these guys before, at least not normal versions, but I’d heard a few stories about them, starting all the way back on the fourth floor. All three suits were magical. The suits themselves were what was keeping me from examining them, but if I looked at their exposed eyes, I could get the info box to appear.

My suspicions were correct.

Chiyome. Razor Fox. Level 80 Mistress of Nunchaku.

One of three from team The Wild Hunt.

Since this is the first time you’ve examined a Razor Fox that wasn’t suffering from an anatomy-changing disease, let me tell you about these little fellas. (And, ladies, since the one you’re looking at is a lady ninja, they make the women ninjas wear red because . . . Well, I’m not sure why.) I love these guys.

Each one picks a weapon proficiency upon childhood, kinda like a ninja-turtle thing, and they train in both that and in a ranged weapon. Most, like Chiyome here, pick throwing stars as their ranged weapon of choice.

(You know throwing stars, right, Carl? You still have some in your inventory.)

“A fox!” Donut suddenly exclaimed, after she, too, finally managed to examine them. “They’re all foxes! Carl, why are there so many dogs in the dungeon! And why aren’t they saying anything?”

I couldn’t get a good angle to examine the other two. One had a sword strapped to his back. The other had a chain with a curved blade. They deliberately kept their heads down.

“Do you want a beer?” Radoslav finally asked.

None moved.

“Foxes,” Donut muttered under her breath.

Chiyome made a clicking noise, and the two other ninjas flipped away. They didn’t walk or run. They flipped. We all stood there watching them go, dumbfounded. Only when they hit the portal and disappeared did Chiyome put her nunchucks away. She visibly relaxed and bowed a second time. She pulled the red cowl back, revealing her fox face.

“I would love a beer,” she said.

“So what the heck was all that?” Donut asked, watching the way the other two foxes had gone. Chiyome stood next to us guzzling down her second Busch Light. She’d also refused the peach-flavored beer. Without complaint, Radoslav handed her another. She nodded thanks and took it. Jasha remained passed out.

“What do you mean?” Chiyome asked, wiping her muzzle. She had a distinctly feminine, high-pitched voice, like one would expect from a fox.

“All the bouncy-ninja stuff?” Donut said, waving her paw at the street. “You were being all weird, and then you were normal.”

“It was a team casting,” Chiyome said. “Form magic. It casts a spell called Size Up on everyone in the area, so now we know your capabilities. Sorry, not sorry.” She belched, crushed the beer can, and held out her paw. Radoslav slapped another into it. Her fourth. “We know how strong of a warrior you are, honored Princess Donut.”

“You sure drink a lot,” Donut said. “We know another dog guy. A hyena named Growler Gary, who also drinks a lot.”

“Hyenas are closer in biology to cats than dogs,” Chiyome said. “Do you got anything harder than whatever this is?”

“That is slander!” Donut exclaimed.

“Sorry. Just a magical cooler that has never-ending beer,” Radoslav said. “Came with our van. Only good thing about it. Our gremlin says it’s going to teleport itself back into the van for each race, too. It refills magically. It always had three of those peach ones, though.”

“Wait, really?” I asked. We should have examined our truck more closely.

“That is a good bonus,” Chiyome said. “Onikuma only has a never-ending supply of fleas.” She belched and then looked at me.

“Look, we need to work together if we’re going to take care of those three.” She indicated the first three garages. “Especially team number three. The Tigrans in spot one got lucky, and I don’t know what’s up with the weirdos and the giant dog in second place, but the women with that car . . . They’re going to win this if we don’t do something now.”

As if she’d summoned them, the door to garage number three started to open.

“Who is it?” Donut asked.

“Womantaurs,” the fox said. “Two womantaurs and their half-mantaur gimp.”