A bus drove down a cleared road of Old New York City. The Buildings long coated in obsidian casts, stood tall in welcome of the guests from the outskirts. At its wheel, Judge watched them blur by. He could still remember when they were towers of glass—beautiful masks that made this city. The big apple. The city that never sleeps. He’d happily call this place the gem of America. That memory was a ghost though—haunting the halls of his mind. New York City hadn’t been that place for twenty-three years now. Twenty-two years back, the Overcast changed it all. He checked the rear-view and the passengers on his bus. They weren’t kids anymore, but were still too young; oblivious to that different time. For them, this city was New York. For them, it might even be a grave. He took a deep breath and looked over them again. Smiles, laughter, conversations in whispers. By the standards of old, they might be adults, but the oldest at twenty-one was still a kid to Judge. One perked up as she noticed his eyes.

“How long has it been since you’ve been this far into the city?” Pale skin and raven hair distinguished her, almost as much as the gleam in her blue eyes. She still didn’t look right in her Refraction Armor. The dark glass-like plating would protect her life, but it made more sense to be worn by him. But she was eighteen, not a child anymore, right? None of them were, but her round face didn’t match how this city sharpened edges. He shook that thought away, however, and smiled.

“Probably about fifteen years,” That wasn’t a guess. “It was a weird trip. We got lost because the city changed shape. Maps don’t make sense here anymore.” And GPS didn’t work. From a satellite, you’d probably see a pool of shadows below.

“What was it like before the Overcast?” He saw the past in her gleam. He saw in her eyes, the reflection of storefronts and expensive clothes. She’d have loved it.

“Amazing,” He said with a smile and a gleam of his own. “If you kids could’ve seen it, you would have loved it! It was big and alive! It was always shining. People loved coming here because there was always something to do!” He laughed. “Not that everybody could afford it. I moved here with my girl, but this city cost a lot. Still, I never regretted it, you know?” The others hushed to listen. He was the only one from old New York who talked about what it used to be. He was the only one who could give them a story—fifty-six years old with plenty of them to tell. They didn’t know it, but they were the outcomes of those stories. Not a face on this bus looked the same. They all would have been from different corners. “Did I ever tell you guys about Broadway?” So many stories, it was hard to keep track. They shook their heads and he went on. “They used to do plays and musicals there. The movie industry was way bigger, but being on Broadway meant you really had talent. I used to see people who could sing and tear up the stage. I never liked musicals before, but when I saw one on Broadway, I started looking for tickets. Fortunately, I had my girl, Tamira. She always had some nice discounts. She was actually going to have her debut in an upcoming performance.” The night of celebration. The joy and excitement. These were ghosts too, but her smile was framed.

“Oh my god, I love that.” Long blond hair fell straight around another girl’s head. Brown eyes twinkled as she spoke, and a smile moved freckles up. “I bet I could have been on Broadway!" She sat beside the raven-haired girl. Judge laughed and shook his head.

“Well, you need more than a number for something like that.” He grinned. “What name would they put on the marquee?”

A boy behind them rose. “Wait! Are you saying we can pick our names?” Red and curling hair. Freckles too, but the type that covered him all over. Brown eyes pleaded and Judge nodded.

“This is your Graduation mission. After this point, you all won’t be Numbers anymore.” Murmurs filled the bus. He hoped confidence filled their hearts. Maybe they didn’t need it. He picked them himself; he knew they were good. Still…

“I already know mine!” The blond said. “Abigail! It’s pretty, and I think it’s a name people would like to say.”

“Don’t see yourself coming back out here, huh?” Redhead asked.

“No! Once I graduate, I’m staying in the Enclave. You won’t see me doing anything like this.”

“That’s sucks,” A girl across the aisle sighed. Dark-brown skin and darker eyes. Her braided hair was tucked in a short ponytail. “You got a good combat score.”

“I know, and I’ll miss competing with you, but I just want it easy.”

“That’s fair.”

“What about you?”

“Fang.” Braids said with confidence. “I think people deserve a peaceful life, but that means some of us have to fight.”

“Damn! If you’re Fang, I need a good one too!” Another boy exclaimed. He sat beside her—medium complexion and short dark hair. His hooded brown eyes were sharp as she faced him, but a smile shone within. He was the oldest, and almost the tallest. He fell into contemplation as he smiled.

“You want to match names with me or something?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” It was a quick-draw of a word.

Across the aisle, Abigail's seatmate raised her hand. “I know it’s kind of generic, but I really like Raven!”

“It suits you!” Abigail grinned. Judge liked the variety.

“What about you three?” He looked past the talkers, to the ones sitting silently. One beside Redhead, deliberating. Two across from them, in murmurs of their own. One of the two rose to stand at a head with Red. Brown-skinned, with hair at his neck, he cleared his throat to make a decree.

"I'm making my name, King." He announced. In front of him, Fang's partner cursed. Beside him, a taller boy stood. Warm dark skin; coiling hair standing on top. He had hazel eyes and a charming smirk.

“If he’s King. I’m his Knight.” Was this their way of making things official? It was no secret that King was gay, and while Knight was bi, there was only one person on his mind.

“It really sounds cheesy.” King looked at him.

“But it makes sense, right? Besides, Prince was taken.”

“By whom? That guy is some old musician.”

Prince was some old musician? Judge felt the years.

“I figured it out!” Fang’s partner exclaimed. “You two gave me the idea! I’m going for Assassin!” Fang chuckled, and he chuckled with her.

“King’s Knight and Assassin’s Fang? I don’t know if that works the same way.”

“It’s poetry though. The Assassin is like a beast in the night, and you’re the Fangs sinking into the their throat.”

Fang laughed again, “I guess I kind of like Assassin’s Fang. It sounds like you killed a dragon or something, and turned its Fang into your weapon.”

“Are you saying you want me to yourself?” He leaned closer. She shoved him back.

“Wouldn’t that actually imply you want me?” She smirked.

“Damn. Is it still only an implication?”

The bus laughed, and Judge joined in. Eyes in the mirror again, he looked to the redhead and the boy beside him. They were in conversation and stood together.

“Assassin used to call us this,” Redhead said. Judge nodded. Both at eighteen, they looked up to the older boy. He used to always see them following close on his tail. There were jokes about them being his students, or maybe brothers. “I’m going with Hunter.” Redhead announced. Assassin gave a thumbs-up. His eyes followed Judge to the other.

Olive-skinned, eyes narrow, the other boy had brown hair cut short. "And I'm going with Ace." He smirked, and Assassin nodded approvingly. Judge had to laugh again. Could he say Fang led to this or was it always inevitable? Abigail. Raven. Fang. Assassin. King. Knight. Hunter. Ace. He washed their numbers from his mind. They weren't items in a lotto anymore. No. They never had been. This world tried to convince him, but they had never believed it.

“So Judge,” Ace pulled him from the thought. “What were you guys doing here back then?”

“Fifteen years ago or before the Overcast?”

“Both.”

He scanned the road ahead. “Trying to make sense of things fifteen years ago. Changes happened too fast, and those first seven years were about learning to adapt.” It was still vivid. The city that never slept fell into an endless nightmare. The Overcast wasn’t just a heavy storm, somehow missed by the forecast. It felt more like a living thing, playing with the city as if it were a toy. If only rearranging the streets had been the end. Instead, it redefined concrete jungle, leaving you wary of lights in the dark. Lights? There were too many times he wished they were just that. Lights didn’t cause the city's fall, the monsters that bared them did. The first time he heard one still made his skin crawl. “Not fair,” as if they had lost and he had somehow won.

"Way back though, I was just living my life." It was spring and he had moved up in his job. He could almost dance in the street and would have if Tamira was there to give him a nudge. They were both going places, and it felt like it was safe to start making plans. A year from then he would have proposed; he knew she'd say yes. But they didn't have a year. They didn't even have the rest of that day. He told his passengers most of this, sparing them his sorrow.

“New York sounds so romantic!” Raven cooed.

“People used to think so. I know I hype it up, but at the end of the day it was another city too. Once you’re past the romance, it’s just another day. Tomorrow could always be better though.” No asterisk to that, or even a but.

“Where were you when the Overcast happened?” Knight’s hand came up.

“On my way to work.” Heading for the subway.

“Hey Judge,” King said next. “We all know what happened but...how did it happen?” How did his New York become theirs?

With a heartbeat. Pounding, pleading—desperate beating, rippling through the sky above the city. Everyone stopped. The sky broke like it was always made of glass. No shards fell but the wound bled, pouring liquid and gaseous darkness over everything. The Overcast, because that first moment was like a sudden storm. The darkness sealed the buildings in obsidian and the air dyed to an ashen curtain. And then came the obelisk, built with what remained of the downpour. It was the fastest thing ever constructed in the city, its liquid form rising and solidifying. The still city was silent for seconds that passed like decades until at once, millions cried out. Swirling gray flares burned in their chests, flowed down their veins, and turned flesh gray. Judge was fine, but so many weren’t. Who you were didn’t matter if you could hear the obelisk’s call. Even the smallest child could become a Gray.

“It was horrendous immediately. Some people were waiting for a moment like that though. After years of hoping for a zombie apocalypse, a lot of survivors thought they were going to be heroes.”

“But?”

"But the Grays were mindless, not zombies. They didn't need a horde to take a grown man down." Was he lucky he walked alone? Nearby, a child was afflicted and tended to by his father. The confused man turned to the mumbling boy and paid for it with an eye. The boy could be no more than eight, but he snapped his father like a bundle of twigs. “Guns didn’t work either.” But people tried. The sound of gunfire came after the screams. “Surprisingly, melee weapons did. I didn’t have a gun, so I ran back home and got a bat. It didn’t take them down, but did a lot more than a shotgun blast.”

“Sounds like you were in the thick of it.” Assassin spoke, wide-eyed.

“For as long as I could be. I tried to find Tamira but never did. Her day job was in bad shape when I reached it. I started hearing about the Enclave and its convoys after that. Honestly, I went there hoping they found her before me.”

There was a weight to Fang’s silence and posture. Judge’s eyes encouraged the question. “Did you think she was still alive when you didn’t find her there?”

“I still do, actually. Until I run into her as a Gray, I’ll never stop believing it.” Who cares if it’s been twenty-two years? Who cares if different squads checked the city in all this time? Tamira was strong. If he survived, she was probably in charge somewhere.

For a moment, the bus rolled on as they all sat in silence. With Judge being the only one to answer these questions, they had a lot to consider. Maybe old New York didn’t matter, but deep down they knew what they were fighting for. It wasn’t like they were ever given the choice. Since the moment they went from ruins to the Enclave, a mission laid in wait. No one said it out loud, but they hoped these kids could save this city. Honestly, the Numbers hoped they could too. Old New York wasn’t something they could imagine, but they knew about the ghosts in Judge’s mind. He was the closest thing they had to a father, and they would happily get this city back for him.

The bus stopped and the doors pulled open. Ahead, a building slanted into the ground. Judge rose, changing from caregiver to the man who'd oversee this mission. He pulled a briefcase from under his chair and handed out bracelets as they disembarked.

"These weapon bands aren't too different from the ones you used in training," He followed, "like them, they'll let you manifest a weapon. It will be the one with your highest proficiency, but remember your auxiliary weapon. This may save you from life or death." The bracelets whirred and beeped as they put them on. "Does anyone here need a reminder of the mission?" They stood at attention but said nothing. "Very good. Give me the details then."

Raven raised her hand, speaking as he nodded. “This site will lead us to another location, recently scanned by the Enclave. Gray activity is low in the area; our job is to ascertain what’s causing them to stay away.”

“Excellent. Remember though, I am only here as an Overseer. While I will offer you support, this mission is about your success. I believe in you! Now, show me how you’ll earn those names!”

The Numbers saluted and marched. Judge took one last look at the darkened city. He didn’t want to leave it on them, but they needed to take this city back…