“Don’t turn when you look left and right,” I said as we bumped up the hill. “It’s okay. You’re good. They’re stopped up ahead. I see them.”

“Goodness, Bucket Boy,” Donut said, talking over the sound of the pouring rain, “you don’t have to avoid everything in the road if it’s tiny!”

Crash! A hill to our left exploded from the strike of a massive hailstone.

Donut’s Shield spell was strong enough to keep us mostly safe, but when she had it large enough to protect the entire truck, it wasn’t as powerful. The massive chunks seemed to be mostly hitting off the track. Smaller but still big shards rained down on the road, covering the asphalt and pinging off the shield. The truck had already slid once as we crested a small hill, which freaked out Bucket Boy, and now he was moving at a snail’s pace.

Ahead, I could see the large armored-tank thing from team One Fine Pig and the convertible car from the Lady Dominators parked at the top of the next peak. Several figures were out of their vehicles, staring at something I couldn’t yet see.

The Lady Dominators’ car appeared to be a late-60s Pontiac GTO convertible painted in a deep burgundy. Corcunda the half-mantaur remained in the back of the two-door car, still hanging out the side like he was asleep.

As we expected, there was a wide shield around the car that was clearly visible as the rain and hail fell around it.

The other vehicle from team One Fine Pig was like a mix between a Hummer and a bank’s armored truck. It appeared it might have been of Russian origin based on the boxy utility of the thing. This truck also had a shield around it, but it was a different type of shield, shaped like a cube. It, too, kept the rain and hail from hitting it.

We had to be extra careful here. Yes, we needed to work together to fight whatever they were looking at, but they could just as easily blow our truck off the road, eliminating us. And if the two womantaurs knew what we’d been planning, them attacking us was likely.

“We should have gotten a better shield,” I muttered as we pulled up. That would be our priority after this race. “Pull up right next the convertible car. Do it slow. I can see what type of shield they have, and it looks like the ones we used on the last floor. It’ll protect us from the hail, too.”

“Carl, Carl, look!” Donut suddenly shouted, pointing at the figures. There were five of them. Well, four and an animal of some sort. “Is that a Bautista? And look at the bull guy. Wow. He looks like someone from those weird lady porn books Miss Beatrice was always reading.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It is a Tigran.” This guy was significantly buffer than Bautista, which was saying a lot.

“It looks like a gathering from backstage at the Penis Parade,” Donut said. “Everybody is so muscly. Except the creature. My goodness, is that just a regular pig?” She scoffed. “One Fine Pig indeed.”

We pulled to a stop right next to the GTO. I knew from experience the shield guarding the car only stopped things moving fast, so we pulled up slow. This close, we’d also get protection from the hail.

“I think you’re right,” Bucket Boy said, gaping. “They all look like dancers. All except the oinker. Look at the delts on the Tigran.” He let out a small gasp. “Hey, hey, I know that guy! The other one. The Taurin. His name is Pontiff. He was a dancer but Damascus sent him back to the mercenary market because he was a dick.” Bucket Boy turned to look at me and Donut. He reached up to rub the side of his snout. “He slapped me once because he said I got in the way during his routine. There wasn’t even anyone in the club except a few of the regulars.”

I examined the figures standing at the top of the hill, none of whom were paying attention to us.

The first two were Genesis and Rapture. Once again, they had their large boots on the road in front of them. They were in an animated discussion with the hulking Tigran.

Standing off to the side, holding a comically large mallet similar to the one the late Brandon had once carried, was the bullheaded Taurin. He was, indeed, named Pontiff. He was a level 83 Taurin Rhythm Rider, which I knew was a type of mage that used sound waves. He was listed as a hired mercenary for team One Fine Pig.

The glowing head of the Taurin’s giant hammer vibrated, which was keeping the rain and hail off the group.

I was half-expecting the Tigran to also be a mercenary, but he was actually a racer.

Nico. Tigran. Level 91 Greaser.

One of two from Team One Fine Pig.

You already know what a Tigran is, as you’re buddies with that guy who plays with dolls and almost did something really suspicious with his tea before he came to his senses.

Nico is two things. One, he’s a Tigran. A tiger person. Angry, emotional, strong, and fiercely loyal. That’s what they’re known for, but that’s also a stereotype. Like with most species, there’s a whole spectrum. I’m sure there are dweeb Tigrans and pacifist Tigrans and vegan Tigrans and Tigrans who have fallen prey to some random MLM and irritate all their extended family members and friends from high school with annoying yet weirdly desperate marketing emails.

Still, Nico falls well within the range of what you’ve come to expect from your average dude with a tiger head . . .

. . . with one glaring exception. And that exception is Penelope.

His wife. The love of his life.

Nico is part of a throuple. And between you and me, it’s not a healthy relationship. Don’t @ me all of you in polycules. You know as well as I do that sometimes people love their partners so much, they unwillingly get dragged into this whole sharing situation. I’m sure there are plenty of perfectly healthy situations out there. This ain’t one of them.

Penelope is the one who wanted to open things up. So it’s now Nico, Dario—who is that other Tigran currently glaring at you from behind the steering wheel of their Tigr APV—and Penelope.

And yes, Penelope is the pig. Yes, she’s just a regular pig with the intelligence of a regular pig. Just go with it. There’s a whole storyline there. Examine her if you want to know more.

Standing there on the ground next to the Tigran was Penelope the pig. She was just a regular round pink pig. The thing had to weigh, like, five hundred pounds. She snuffled on the ground next to the tiger who petted the top of the pig’s head affectionately.

Penelope. Level 5 Yorkshire Sow.

This is a pig. Oink, oink.

Warning: This beast is magically protected by Taranis. As such, if this beast dies or is even hurt, the culprit will be marked for death by the thunder god.

This is Penelope. Again, she is a pig. She is married to both Nico and Dario, and she loves them both equally. At least that’s what Nico and Dario believe.

No, she didn’t used to be a beautiful princess who was transformed by a witch. She’s a pig and has always been a pig.

Penelope did, however, once get hit by a stray spell. The Touch of Maw-Loo. Also known as the Snowdrop Curse. There was going to be this whole succubus storyline that also involved Emberus and Hellik and Taranis and a bunch of angry spouses on the 7th floor we didn’t get to use, so we brought Penelope here. And now when certain NPCs see this fine pig, they fall helplessly in love with her.

That includes Taranis, who has it bad for her.

Kill her at your own peril.

I sighed. Of course. A pig protected by a god. One of the big ones, too. Taranis was the god who was also the big brother of Emberus and Hellik and Eris, and he was the one who’d been married to Apito, who was also his mom.

Dario, the third member of One Fine Pig, sat behind the wheel of their truck, glaring not at us like the description implied, but at Nico.

“Carl, do you think the two tiger guys and that pig . . .” Donut trailed off.

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know,” I said. “Come on. Let’s see what we’re dealing with. Bucket Boy, you stay here. Don’t let anyone near the truck. Honk the horn if anything weird starts to happen.”

He opened his mouth.

“You know what I mean. Anything weirder. Keep an eye especially on that big metal truck. And if things go sideways, don’t hurt the pig.”

We stepped out of the truck, passing by Corcunda, who was curled up in the back seat of the GTO. He had an Unconscious notification over his head. He’d been put asleep via a spell.

Huh, I thought.

We passed out of the area of the shield from the GTO, and rain and hail started to pour on us. Donut let out a little yowl and recast her Shield spell. Hail pinged off it loudly, the sound like pebbles against glass.

We approached the others, who finally noticed us. Just beyond them, at the bottom of the hill, was the boss, just sitting there in the middle of the road.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered.