Moderation Online (Books 1-3): Moderation Online

By Michael La Ronn

This book contains the complete Moderation Online trilogy.

 

The science fiction series that will make you scratch your head, then say "this is awesome!"

 

The year 2067: Obesity becomes the #1 killer of humanity.

 

The only salvation: a virtual RPG called Moderation Online, where patients live in a fantasy kingdom. Vegetable NPCs subconsciously train humans how to make better choices in life. 

 

The only problem: a virus that introduces an evil empire of processed foods who undo all of the vegetables' progress.

Kendall Barnes is the newest entrant in this idyllic world. African-American, obese, diabetic, and a survivor of a heart attack, the game is his last chance at a normal life…until he finds himself in the most epic food fight of all time.

Food City is the first book in Michael La Ronn's Moderation Online series, inspired by Final Fantasy and JRPGs. With a fast-paced story, fun characters, and lots of action, Moderation Online is mouthwateringly cool. 

Click now to buy your copy today!

 

V2.0

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Author Level Up LLC
• Release date: Dec 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201476519

Michael La Ronn

Science fiction and fantasy on the wild side! Michael La Ronn is the author of many science fiction and fantasy novels including The Last Dragon Lord, Android X, and Eaten series. In 2012, a life-threatening illness made him realize that storytelling was his #1 passion. He’s devoted his life to writing ever since, making up whatever story makes him fall out of his chair laughing the hardest. Every day. To get updates when he releases new work + other bonuses, sign up by visiting www.michaellaronn.com/list

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Moderation Online (Books 1-3)

MODERATION ONLINE (BOOKS 1-3)

MICHAEL LA RONN

Food City, Salad Days, and Delicious Zeal Copyright 2014, 2017 © Michael La Ronn. All rights reserved.

Published by Author Level Up LLC.

Version 2.0

Originally published as the Eaten series.

This book is a work of fiction. All characters, dialogue, and incidents described in this publication are fictional or entirely coincidental.

No part of this novel may be reproduced or reprinted without permission of the publisher. Please address inquiries to [e-mail].

FOOD CITY (BOOK 1)

Food City

To Will,

for understanding my ideas in a way that nobody else can.

PROLOGUE

EARTH, NORTH AMERICA, 2067

"Dr. Overton, while I appreciate that you're using breakthrough technology to treat my husband, I'm not so sure that a video game will cure him."

Dr. Peter Overton suppressed a sigh as an African-American woman dabbed her moist eyes with a tissue. Two children clung to her dress with worried looks on their faces.

Through the hospital waiting room window, rain fell slanted across the blustery sky, and moonlight bathed the hospital grounds below in a pale gray.

It had been raining for the last week. Dr. Overton wished for sunlight, clear air, and a blue sky in which to give the bad news. But the rain fell, a relentless staccato against an undertone of thunder.

I understand how you feel, Dr. Overton said, choosing his words carefully.

Jamilla Barnes sobbed, heaving loudly. She was obese, with a round face and long dreadlocks.

Dr. Overton let her cry. He felt for her, like he did for all of his patients’ families, but his heart stopped breaking for them many years ago. He clasped his hands together and spoke softly.

Your husband suffered a massive heart attack. We were able to stabilize him, but he has not woken up yet.

When will he wake up? Jamilla asked.

It’s hard to say, Dr. Overton said. It could be days, weeks, or months.

Jamilla shook her head and wiped her eyes. I’d like to see him.

I’m happy to let you in the room, Dr. Overton said, but I need to warn you about what you’re about to see.

Here came the bad news.

The news no one ever wanted to hear because it sounded so strange.

And he was going to give it for the twentieth time this week. With no coffee in his system, no painkillers to deaden the sharp edge of burnout.

Kendall is already inside the video game, Dr. Overton said. We have him hooked up to it, so there a lot of wires and technological things in the room.

Jamilla frowned.

My husband has a heart attack and you put him in a video game? Jamilla asked.

Dr. Overton pursed his lips. It’s deeper than that. Come with me.

Kendall Barnes was an obese black man who lay in a spacious hospital room. He was hooked up to a ventilator.

A coal-black VR headset rested over his eyes. A heart rate monitor blinked over the space where the eyes were. A long wire connected it to a server in the wall, which glittered behind a glass panel. Monitoring screens were mounted all over the room, measuring brain function, sleep patterns, and heart rate.

Jamilla gasped.

For Overton, this wasn’t anything new. Kendall looked like the wave of a thousand patients he’d seen this year. Obese, diabetic, lucky to be alive.

All over the world, we have seen an epidemic, Dr. Overton said. I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but we’ve been seeing heart-related diseases killing people, almost as if a time bomb exploded.

He hesitated.

Time bomb.

Poor choice of words.

It's not like we haven't treated heart disease, but this is worse. It's devastating, Dr. Overton said. The medical societies of the world have committed to stopping this, so they partnered with gaming companies, and leading psychologists. They developed a virtual reality game experience, and we are hooking up victims’ brains to it.

I don’t understand, Jamilla said, caressing Kendall’s forehead. I signed the consent papers, but I wasn't aware of—

It’s quite simple, Overton said. It really is, Mrs. Barnes. In order for Kendall to live with heart disease, he’s got to make drastic lifestyle changes. But we’ve been telling patients this for decades and it hasn’t worked. This virtual reality experience—called Moderation Online—immerses them in a world that teaches them the importance of eating right. It's an ingenious game design that subconsciously steers patients into making nutritional decisions at the neural level. We have seen a tremendous amount of success from initial tests. We see drastic weight loss and lasting good habits.

Jamilla buried her head in Kendall’s chest.

I’ve been told it’s a paradise, Dr. Overton said. The science behind it is to take healthy foods such as vegetables, turn them into characters, and assign them names and personalities. Have you ever heard of role-playing games, Mrs. Barnes?

Jamilla shook her head.

Dr. Overton pulled his clipboard from under his arm and drew a picture.

Imagine for a moment that Kendall is a character in the virtual reality experience. He's interacting with all the vegetable characters, who live in cities and towns, having a good time. The longer Kendall is there and the more positive experiences he has with the characters, the wiser he becomes about the game world. Follow me so far?

Jamilla nodded.

Dr. Overton continued drawing. Now, here's where science comes in. As Kendall becomes more aware of the positives of vegetables, his experience correlates with brain function. The more experience he gains, the more his brain associates vegetables with proper nutrition and diet. Thus, when he wakes up, his brain will be conditioned to make better choices in his everyday life. Does that make sense?

What happens if he gets hurt in the world? Jamilla asked. Can he—

Dr. Overton patted her hand. Die? Absolutely not. No one dies in this game world. Now, it was created to be completely immersive, meaning he can smell, see, touch, taste, et cetera. For Kendall, this world is his new reality. But it’s a paradise, as I said. Kendall is completely safe.

Oh, Jamilla said, sighing with relief. Thank you for explaining that.

Dr. Overton smiled. It sounds…ridiculous, to be sure, but there is solid science behind it. The characters are driven by artificial intelligence—state of the art—and the adventures in this world are nothing dangerous. Mostly farming and exercise-oriented. Again, there's leading science behind it. By completing these adventures and learning to co-exist with these characters, Kendall is developing a foundation of good nutritional choices, one that will hopefully last permanently when he wakes up. He won't be able to go to the grocery aisle without thinking about the wonderful adventures he had, along with his vegetable friends.

Jamilla took Kendall’s hand. She rubbed it gingerly.

We talked about this happening, she said. A heart attack. We saw it happening to people every day in the headlines. Never thought it would happen to us. I mean, we’re only thirty-three years old, you know?

Heart attacks don’t care what age you are, Dr. Overton said. But fortunately, it’s never too late to start making good decisions.

Never too late, she said. She brushed one hand along the VR headset and clutched Kendall’s hand with the other. It’s never too late, baby.

Officer Jackson Hargrave made his nightly walk around the server room.

He strolled through tall, narrow aisles full of humming and glittering servers. The air was cool, with pockets of warmth as he passed the server fans.

Hard to believe there were hundreds of people hooked up to these servers, just here alone. All over the world there were thousands more, something Hargrave couldn't wrap his head around.

He shone a flashlight through the darkness, sweeping it up and down the long aisles.

With his other hand, he ate a chocolate candy bar, crinkled the wrapper with his fingers.

He knew he shouldn’t have been eating it. Junk food was banned from the hospital due to the heart attack epidemic, but he couldn’t help himself.

He was healthy enough. Making rounds through this server room, which took up an entire wing of the hospital, was enough to keep the weight off.

This was the only place a man could eat a candy bar in peace. Above, in the hospital proper, it was gloomy as hell. Doctors burning out and families losing their minds.

Yeah, this was the best possible place to be on a rainy night like this. In the quiet shadows of servers.

He stopped at a server whose lights were blinking purple. He clucked his tongue.

Some sort of technical error. Hell if he understood these things. But they always told him to look for purple lights. Purple lights meant trouble.

He pulled his walkie-talkie off his belt.

Hey there, I’m at server two hundred. Looks like there’s something wrong with it.

A staticky voice spoke back. On it. I’ll send an engineer.

He hooked his walkie-talkie back on his belt.

And then he heard something.

Footsteps.

He turned around.

Nothing.

No one.

Yet the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

He reached for his gun and crept forward through the darkness.

Rustling sounds came from the next aisle.

His heart raced as he readied his gun.

He rounded the corner, letting his flashlight shine away the shadows.

A man in a hood was crouched at one of the servers. He had a phone in his hand, and the phone was connected to one of the servers. He was typing code onto the screen.

Hey! Hargrave cried.

The hooded man disconnected the wire from the server. A notification flashed across his screen.

UPLOAD COMPLETE

The man smirked and ran.

Stop! Hargrave cried.

He fired, but the man ducked and wove into another aisle.

Hargrave reached for his walkie-talkie.

We’ve got an intruder down here. I need some assistance!

Hargrave ran after the man.

A door ahead slammed.

Hargrave burst through the door, into the loading bay.

Tires screeched.

A motorcycle revved and sped through a slightly open garage door.

Hargrave chased him to the door, rolled underneath into an alley. Rain poured onto his shoulders.

He crouched, aimed at the motorcycle and fired.

He missed.

The motorcycle reached the end of the alley and merged into the traffic of a busy street. Hargrove ran into the street, panting.

The street fed into a highway that wound between a maze of skyscrapers. The motorcycle disappeared in the traffic.

Hargrave put his hands on his knees.

Did you apprehend the suspect? a voice on his walkie-talkie asked.

No, Hargrave said. But you better call Dr. Overton. We’ve got a problem on our hands.

What do you mean he uploaded something to the servers? Dr. Overton asked.

In Kendall Barnes’s room, Dr. Overton kept his voice low as a female software engineer explained to him what happened.

We can’t tell what the damage is yet, she said. But there’s a virus in the network now.

And security couldn’t catch the hacker? he said.

The engineer shook her head.

It had to be someone from the food industry, Dr. Overton said. I’m convinced of it. They've resisted this treatment since day one.

Dr. Overton had heard of attempted hackings at other hospitals. But none had ever been successful. He felt a pit opening up at the bottom of his stomach.

All we know right now is that the virus has interjected itself in the geographical center of the game world, the engineer said. It’s spreading at a rapid rate. We don't know what will happen.

Can we shut off the game? Dr. Overton asked.

I highly discourage it, the engineer said. There are tens of thousands of people all over the world connected to it. Because of the virtual interface with their brains, turning the system off would kill a great deal of them.

Let’s rip off VR headsets then, Dr. Overton said. That'll solve it.

The engineer shook her head quickly. From what we can tell, the virus has been designed to create a fatal electrical shock if we try to remove the headsets in any way. That was very clear in the code strings that we examined.

Shit, Dr. Overton said under his breath. Shit, shit shit.

Yeah, the engineer said. It's a shit show, all right. Our team is scrambling.

Dr. Overton glanced at Jamilla, who was singing softly to Kendall.

I just told this woman that her husband was going to be okay and that there was no threat to life, he said. Am I going to have to tell her otherwise?

The engineer shrugged.

Damn engineers. They never gave straight answers.

He rubbed his temples. Call in the disaster response team. They’ve got programmers. Best in the world. Hopefully they can patch over this thing.

Let’s hope so, the engineer said. But it will take some time. The virus is unlike anything we've ever seen. It could be many months until a patch is ready, and even then—

I don’t care what it takes, Dr. Overton said. I’ve got to do right by my patients. I won’t let them die without exhausting every option.

Dr. Overton looked at Kendall again. The man’s chest moved up and down. He wondered just what the hell was going on inside the man’s mind now.

Whatever it was, Kendall Barnes might just be fighting for his life.

ONE YEAR LATER…

CHAPTER 1

CITY OF NEW EATON, MIDDLE RIND

Kendall Barnes walked the streets of the Middle Rind with a giant knife and fork in his back pocket.

He emerged from a dirty alley into an avenue of cereal box and soda bottle skyscrapers lit up on every floor.

Rivers of people moved up and down the sidewalks. Walking alongside them were anthropomorphic candy bars, boxed dinners, doughnuts, and other processed foods, each with bright packaging and droopy eyes, adding artificial color to the area.

The humans smiled as they walked in half-struts, half-waddles, mumbling to themselves and licking their lips. Many were overweight and obese.

The foods (called Gourmans) were at least one to two feet taller than the humans and, with the exception of a few wide ones, were mostly skinny and lean. Some mingled with the humans, laughing and cracking jokes; others looked serious and as if they were on their way to somewhere important.

Enormous, three-story tall LED screens on every building streamed glitzy commercials fighting to catch the attention of the crowd.

In the street, traffic zipped by, each car and hovercycle leaving a trail of sparkling, colorful light behind it.

Kendall took in the busy street and snapped his fingers in a jazzy rhythm. He inhaled, taking in every delicious smell of his city, then he exhaled, smiling.

Gonna be a good night.

He had chosen his long white t-shirt, jean shorts, and green basketball shoes specifically for tonight. Under his shirt, he wore a smooth, golden chain that his friend, a french fry, had given him. He was determined to be the coolest-dressed black guy at the Festival of the Harvest.

Kendall skipped into the street and joined the flow of people. A TV dinner blimp floated overhead, casting an elongated shadow over everything below. A female voice echoed from a megaphone on the blimp’s bridge.

Attention citizens: The Festival of the Harvest will begin shortly. Nonpareil Square will be closed to traffic for the rest of the evening. You may have also noticed pipes along the street . . .

Kendall looked to his left and saw a line of green metal pipes rising up from a sewer grate. They ran parallel to the street and extended for several blocks to Nonpareil Square, where searchlights crisscrossed the dusk sky and music played from loudspeakers on the high-rises.

Please be mindful of the pipes, the voice said as the blimp finished crossing and the street brightened again.

Kendall had never seen the pipes before, and he wondered what they were for. As he walked past, he heard a strange bubbling sound coming from them. 

An ad flashed on one of the screens and pulled him from his thoughts. A curvy blonde in a striped bathing suit appeared on the huge display. She smiled, ran her fingers through her hair, threw her head back, and laughed as bubbles rose around her. Green text scrolled across the screen: NUTRIZEEN. UNLOCK THE TRUE YOU.

Kendall swallowed and looked down at his stomach. He probably weighed three times as much as the woman on the screen. In New Eaton, being skinny was rare, but desired.

He rubbed his belly and said, Heh heh. One of these days, I'm going to shed this negative six-pack.

He had heard of people getting Nutrizeen injections that changed their lives completely. Their weight just fell off, leaving behind firm, fit, god-like bodies. The injections were invitation-only, and the Triumvirate claimed that they were still testing their effectiveness. Humans often talked about what they would do with brand new, athletic and fit bodies; it was a common topic around bars. Kendall himself often daydreamed about all the things he could do if he got an injection. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself with chiseled abs and thighs strong enough to crush a small watermelon. He saw himself on the beaches of Cola Bay, diving into the waves and swimming a mile without getting tired, then retiring to a beach house where he’d sit on the balcony with a drink in his hand and watch the sun sink into the clouds . . .

Three jets burst across the sky toward Nonpareil Square, shattering his fantasy with the thunderous roars of their engines.

Kendall put his hands over his ears and looked up at the huge, lumbering jail-ship shaped like a bag of chips that followed the jets. Then he joined everyone on the street as they cheered.

There they are, Kendall said, pumping his fists. "I'm ready to rock this festival, you best believe!"

He quickened his pace toward Nonpareil Square, and could feel the rest of the crowd doing the same.

He passed an armed Fry Guard on a street corner. The guard, a tall french fry dressed in aluminum fatigues and a helmet with a visor over his eyes, carried a rifle with both hands.

His buddy that he hung out with on weekends and drank with. A french fry, hell of a guy!

What’s up, Kendall? the guard asked.

Greason, my man.

They shook hands. 

That chain looks good on ya, Greason said. His skin was oily, and he had crooked teeth. 

Kendall fingered the chain and grinned. "Indeed, indeed, indeed. I appreciate you, man."

You headed to the festival? Greason asked.

You know it. 

They caught some good ones last night, Greason said. A celery stick and a stalk of broccoli, if I heard correctly.

Broccoli? Kendall asked. Get out of here.

A real wonder of nature, Greason said. Plus, I heard that the winner of the festival this year gets Nutrizeen injections.

Aww yeeeeah! When I win this thing, we’re gonna go celebrate, Kendall said, dancing in place.

You're buyin’, Greyson said.

A bell rung, signifying that the festival would begin soon, and Kendall knew he had to go. He waved to Greason and continued down the street. 

A huge, human crowd had gathered at the edge of Nonpareil Square, the city’s town square. The pavement was covered with raised sugary bumps that made it look distinguished and expensive, with good reason. This was where the Triumvirate held the Festival of the Harvest—and made announcements about the status of the war.

Kendall whistled as he pushed his way through the crowd, waving to the people that called out to him.

Hey, Kendall! Good luck!

It’s going to start anytime now. Better get up there, man!

Be sure to save some for me.

He saluted his friends and reached the front of the crowd.

Guards lined the sidewalk, and stanchions stopped people from entering the square.

He stared up at Grease Tower, the largest skyscraper in New Eaton. Made of yellowish-orange glass, it looked like a tall french fry trying to scratch the belly of the sky. The tower shone so brightly at night that you could see it from everywhere in the Middle Rind. It was even rumored that on a clear, starry night, you could see the luminescent fields of the vegetable kingdom from the roof of the tower.

A jumbotron covering the first ten floors of the tower displayed a screensaver of sparkling salt crystals drifting across darkness.

Kendall felt a hand on his elbow and turned around to see a beggar, a yellow bell pepper in a tattered robe with a hood over his face, staring at him. The beggar’s eyes were shadowed, and he looked as if he might die of hunger at any moment. He stunk like a plant.  

Please, sir, the beggar said. Tell Sodius to stop the festival—

Let go of me.

Please, I beg you. It’s not fair.

Let go of me! 

Kendall kicked the beggar in the stomach, and the pepper toppled over. Other members of the crowd gathered, kicking the pepper and shouting, Get out of here!

A Fry Guard cut through the commotion and pulled the beggar up.

You’re breaking the law, the guard said.

But this madness has to stop! the beggar cried.

The guard grunted and BAM!—he fired twice. The beggar fell to the ground. His blood, green and thin, oozed across the sidewalk. Kendall watched with disgust as it flowed through a nearby drain and into the green pipes on the street.

The guard checked the beggar’s body and spoke into a communicator on his wrist.

Sir, I just shot a protesting vegetable. I can’t find any tags on him. 

A voice responded from the communicator. Good. We won’t catch hell, then. Gather the body for scientific evaluation.

The guard motioned for backup. He and two other guards dragged the body away and heaved it into the back of a nearby black van driven by a pizza slice. They slammed the doors shut and the slice sped away as the crowd clapped. 

What a waste of time, Kendall said. He glanced at the screen again, happy he hadn’t missed anything. 

A woman nearby nudged him, and he turned to see a short, curly-haired Latina wearing a red sweater and jeans taking in the sights of the festival with nervous wonder. She had her knife and fork in her hands, and she gripped them so tightly her knuckles were white.

This is my first festival, the woman said. Is it dangerous?

Nah, Kendall said. Fry Guards are everywhere. It’s completely safe. He extended a hand. I’m Kendall Barnes. You’re talking to the future winner of the festival.

The woman laughed and relaxed her grip. You mean future runner-up. I’m going to win!

The jumbotron flickered, and the crowd hushed as the lights in the square dimmed.

Time to party, Kendall said.

CHAPTER 2

A cloud of salt with hollow eyes and a jagged mouth appeared on the jumbotron, covering the entire screen and smiling benevolently. His salt crystals glinted, sending shimmers of white light across the square.

Confetti fluttered down as the crowd roared. Kendall clapped until his hands hurt; this was the closest he would ever get to the head of the Triumvirate.

Sodius was legendary. He was the founder of New Eaton, and was also its mayor, governor, president, and commander. He had created so many opportunities for the city’s residents that it was hard not to like him. And he was a good leader too, seeming to be everywhere at once. He always appeared out of nowhere, yet it seemed as if he had been there all along. 

Kendall pulled out his cell phone, turned his back, and took a selfie of himself with Sodius in the background.

In the presence of greatness, he whispered.

After smiling through five minutes of cheering, Sodius motioned the crowd to be quiet.

Good evening, citizens of New Eaton, he said. His voice was gritty, paternal, loving. As you know, we are at war with the vegetable kingdom. It is my sworn duty to protect this city, a privilege that I would risk my life for. We, the Gourmans, continue to fight valiantly, and we have just won the most decisive victory in the history of the war. Please, take a moment to thank the Gourman nearest you for their service.

Everyone clapped and nodded at the Fry Guards scattered across the vicinity. The guards smiled smugly.

Sodius swirled around the screen. We hold the Festival of the Harvest as a reminder of our strength and of what the future holds. We must not forget that we are the rightful owners of this world. The other races will submit to our will; it's only a matter of time.

The crowd cheered, and Sodius grinned.

On behalf of the Triumvirate, I offer to you a fresh group of vegetables harvested from the battlefield as a thank you for your solidarity . . .

The jail-ship descended into the square. A sliding door opened on the front of the ship and, after a few moments, a long line of hooded vegetables stumbled out, pushed by guards. They were connected with chains and were handcuffed and blindfolded. 

Kendall chuckled at them; they were as pathetic as the bell pepper he had seen earlier. They stunk up the area with their herbaceous, earthy smell, and Kendall had to scrunch up his nose to block the stench.

The crowd cheered and the vegetables looked around in fear, even though they couldn’t see anything. The guards prodded them until they were gathered in the middle of the square.

I trust that you will enjoy them, Sodius said. And I look forward to congratulating the highest scorer personally.

Everyone in the crowd drew their forks and knives. The area grew quiet, and the vegetables grew more frantic. 

Kendall gripped his giant fork in his left hand and his knife in his right. Four feet long and made of stainless steel, they felt light and ready for action. He assumed an attack stance, waiting for Sodius’s orders.

Sodius laughed a jolly laugh and said, Cut the chains.

The chains that connected the prisoners clanked to the ground. 

Release their handcuffs! Sodius shouted.

The handcuffs clattered to the ground by the vegetables’ feet.

Let the hunt begin! Sodius cried.

The Fry Guards unhooked the stanchions, and the crowd poured into the square.

The vegetables pulled up their blindfolds. Seeing the humans running toward them, they screamed and scattered.

Kendall focused on a potato. It tried to run away, but too late. Kendall slashed with his knife and the vegetable fell to the ground, bleeding.

Please, don’t do this, the potato said. His face was earthy and fat and his eyes were sad. 

Kendall laughed and finished the potato with a stab of his fork. The vegetable’s life force oozed into a nearby drain. 

SHING!

A wisp of blue energy flowed from the potato’s body and dissipated into the air.

He balled his fist and did a victory uppercut.

One of these days, he was going to get to level two—he could feel it.

Yet he didn’t feel any different.

He had never leveled up.

Ever. Even though he was a vegetable hunting machine.

One of these days, he hoped it would change. He worked too damn hard not to be leveling up, especially after a kill like that!

A turnip dashed past him, but he slashed her, too. She looked up at him with pain and suffering in her eyes, but he didn’t think twice before finishing her. 

Sodius disappeared from the jumbotron and a scoreboard appeared. Kendall’s face, fat and confident, appeared near the top with the number two next to it. 

Yes, sir! Kendall shouted. High score! I could lose a few pounds, though. He frowned at the sight of his pouchy cheeks. He took a picture of the scoreboard on his phone.

Screw them dinky experience points when I can cash in my high score for Nutrizeen shots, baby! he said.

He laughed, then kissed his fingers and pointed them at the screen.

Sodius, get ready to congratulate me.

He ran down a street, slashing every vegetable he could. All the while, blue energy streamed into the air, then dissipated.

He approached two obese men stalking toward a hooded broccoli, celery, and onion who were standing with their backs to each other. A guard watched the scene from the corner and grinned.

Need help, fellas? Kendall asked, joining the two men.

We’ll split the points three ways, one of the men said. 

Sounds good, Kendall said, readying his knife and fork. He pointed at the broccoli. So you're that mythical broccoli everybody’s been talking about.

The broccoli puffed.

The three humans neared the vegetables and got ready to spring forward.

Give it up, Kendall said. You guys are finished.

He twirled his knife confidently, then raised it to slash.

Suddenly, the broccoli pulled two daggers from his belt.

The celery unfurled a three-stringed whip made from celery strings.

The onion brandished two pistols.

Kendall’s eyes widened. What the—

Hey! the Fry Guard shouted, but it was too late.

The celery whipped the guard’s gun out of his hand and pounced on top of him in an instant, pummeling him with brass knuckles.

Kendall backed away, but the two men next to him charged.

The broccoli flipped into the air, exposing skinny jeans and red Chucks. He kicked the two men in the heads and knocked them unconscious.

Two Fry Guards ran at the broccoli as he landed, but he cut them down in just a few seconds.

The broccoli wiped his face with the back of his palm, and steaming fat dripped from his dagger.

It’s a terrorist attack! someone cried. 

The broccoli sheathed his daggers and stretched out his hands. A force field of purple energy surrounded him and he floated into the air, hurling purple fireballs at the jail-ship. It exploded, sending shrapnel everywhere.

The broccoli grinned, and then targeted every Fry Guard on the street, engulfing each in a column of flames.

The celery also glowed purple and moved rapidly, slashing and whipping her way down the street. She moved so fast she appeared to be in several places at once.

The onion jumped into the air and rained down bullets that traveled in zigzags as they ripped through the Fry Guards’ armor. The bullets left a trail of onion stink behind them, making humans and Fry Guards cover their noses and fall to the ground, their eyes watering.

All around the square, all the vegetables—even the vegetables who weren’t glowing—were also attacking Gourmans. The air was blue with energy from dead Gourmans, and instead of dissipating into the air, the energy flowed into the vegetables, and it seemed to make them stronger.

Good god, Kendall said.

He ran away from the chaos as fast as he could.

He passed the woman he had spoken to earlier. She looked frantic.

You said it was safe! she screamed.

Kendall shrugged and kept running. He ducked into a dark alley and ran into a maze of shadows, dumpsters, and fire escapes.

His terror caused everything to spin in front of him.

He didn’t know whether he was running away from the violence or into it. 

Screams, gunfire, and clashing metal sounded at every turn, and he had to hug the wall to avoid getting trampled by all the humans running for their lives. 

He doubled over near a dumpster, panting.

His heart felt like it would explode.

He had never run this far or this long, ever—and he had only run a few blocks.

Man, I’m out of shape, he said, wheezing.

He regained his breath and ran again, away from the noise. Panting, he rounded a corner and bumped into someone.

It was the broccoli that he had seen earlier. He was glowing purple, levitating with his arms outstretched, hiding out from the chaos in the street. He was still wearing his prisoner’s robe and hood, so Kendall couldn’t see his eyes.

Kendall fell onto his back. Oh, sh—

The broccoli fell out of the air and stopped glowing. He looked around in a daze. He balled his fists and hunched over, as if trying to reactivate his powers, but nothing happened. Then he growled at Kendall, drawing his daggers.

Kendall crawled backward, shaking his head as the broccoli stepped toward him. His knife and fork were out of reach.

Congratulations, human, the broccoli said. You just burned your last calorie.

CHAPTER 3

Kendall knew he had to talk his way out of this, or the broccoli was going to kill him.

Listen, man, about what I said a few minutes ago—

The broccoli grabbed him, pulled him up, and sneered at him. Do you have any idea what you did?

I didn’t do nothin’. You’re the one blowing stuff up!

The broccoli tried to throw him against a brick wall, but Kendall was too heavy. He lost his grip and Kendall tumbled to the ground, where the broccoli jumped on him and they wrestled furiously.

You humans eat too much, the broccoli said.

Stop! Let me go, and I’ll pretend I never saw you—

The broccoli raised his dagger, and Kendall closed his eyes and guarded his face. He winced and waited for the blade to pierce him.

A metal click at the other end of the alley startled them both, and the broccoli whipped around.

Greason stood with his rifle pointed at them.

Thank god, Kendall said, panting. Get this broccoli off me!

Drop your weapons and lift your hood, Greason ordered. Two more guards joined him and aimed.

The broccoli looked around the alley desperately and cursed. He grabbed Kendall, pulled him up and held a dagger to his throat.

Kill me and you’ll kill one of your precious humans as well.

Kendall struggled, but when he felt the sharp point of the dagger against his skin, he stopped moving. He began to sweat profusely.

Do something! Kendall cried.

Greason concentrated, not taking his sight off them.

The broccoli pushed the dagger even closer to Kendall’s neck. Greason gave the order and the guards stepped aside.

You’re going to regret this, vegetable, Greason said.

The broccoli laughed. He dragged Kendall out of the alley and into the street, where the chaos was ongoing.

A car exploded, and glass from a nearby building poured down in response.

Nearby, the onion from earlier revved a hovercycle made of blue licorice. He wore camo pants and brown military boots. Several layers of skin around his bulb were peeled up into a Mohawk that pushed against the robe. He sped toward the broccoli and screeched to a stop, grinning from underneath his hood.

What the heck happened? the onion asked. Did you lose your powers, too?

No time to talk, the broccoli said.

The onion saw the guards in the alley and his eyes widened. Get on!

Greason ran toward the group as he spoke into his wrist.

We’ve got one of the rogues and he’s taken Kendall Barnes hostage. He’s attempting to escape by hovercycle.

Greason, get me away from these crazy vegetables! Kendall shouted. The broccoli backed onto the hovercycle and sat back-to-back with the onion. He pulled Kendall on with him and kept the dagger at his neck.

Thanks, Frank, the broccoli said.

Frank stepped on the accelerator, but the engine stuttered and the bike only inched forward. He glared back at Kendall.

That human’s too fat, Brocc, Frank said.

What’s with you vegetables and fat jokes? Kendall asked.

Stomp on it, Brocc said.

Frank stepped on the accelerator as hard as he could and they took off down the street, leaving a brilliant trail of blue light behind them. The guards yelled into their wrist communicators.

Hang on, Brocc said to Kendall. The skyscrapers and bright lights melted into a neon blur as they zipped down the streets of New Eaton.

Kendall gripped the sides of the bike so hard his knuckles hurt. He uttered a silent prayer, shaking and trembling.

They were going to kill him.

They were going to kill him.

They were going to kill him or he was going to fall off this bike and bust his head open.

He felt the knife against his neck and gulped.

That was close, Frank called back. Looks like you picked up some collateral.

Temporary headache, Brocc said.

You’re the headaches, Kendall said.

Frank sped through an intersection as several police cars careened around the corner, accompanied by two Fry Guards on hovercycles.

It’s about time, the onion said. It’s not a chase without the bad guys on your roots.

Kendall struggled against Brocc. You guys are ridiculous. Don’t you watch TV? You can’t escape a chase like this. Criminals never win.

We’re not criminals, Brocc said.

Yeah, right.

I don’t have to justify myself to a human, Brocc said. Frank, let’s lose them.

Frank turned down an alley, but the Fry Guards on hovercycles followed and fired a warning shot.

Kendall jumped at the gunfire and shouted, waving his hands.

"Hey, guys, I don’t mind you shooting, but don’t hit me!"

That’s how little they care about you, Brocc said. He reached into Frank’s robe and pulled out a rope. He tied Kendall’s hands with it, then tied the rope to the seat of the bike.

The rope was tight around Kendall’s wrists. Too tight.

Nice to have my hands again, Brocc said.

Why did we lose our powers? Frank asked. I didn’t get all the way to level fifty to lose powers this fast.

Brocc pumped his fists and tensed them, but nothing happened.

I don’t know, he said. We could have decimated half the Middle Rind by now.

Frank zoomed onto an entrance ramp and merged onto a ten-lane superhighway that wound through downtown. Cars passed by in a dazzling blur. Neon streetlights were ranged along the side of the highway, changing color every few seconds. LED screens on the surrounding buildings flashed and displayed live overhead footage of the chase.

Why are you going onto the Arterion? Kendall asked. You’re going to get us killed!

A Fry Guard flew alongside the hovercycle. He cocked a pistol.

Brocc threw his dagger at him. It stuck in the guard’s shoulder, and he lost control and crashed into a sidewall.

Frank turned around and charged against traffic toward the remaining guard.

Kendall screamed at the top of his lungs as Frank swerved between oncoming cars. As they passed, he felt the wind of the cars brushing by him, saw glimpses of horrified Gourmans inside the cars looking at the hovercycle.

Brocc grabbed his dagger from the dead guard as they passed.

The other guard fired and sped toward them.

Frank veered to the left.

Brocc jumped off the hovercycle and punched the guard.

The guard punched back, but Brocc dodged, kneed him in the chest, and tossed him off.

A nearby passenger car struck the guard, then rolled over and spilled out a family of hysterical fried chicken wings.

Brocc commandeered the hovercycle and flew alongside Frank as they changed direction and moved down the highway with the flow of traffic. He jumped back onto the hovercycle with Frank, leaving the guard’s hovercycle to explode as it spun out of control and hit the asphalt.

Nice fighting, Frank said.

You can untie me now! Kendall yelled.

Brocc pointed ahead and cursed. Look out, Frank!

A military jet emerged from between two skyscrapers and fired a missile at them.

Frank swerved out of the way just in time, but the explosion sent the bike into a fishtail, the bottom of the bike throwing up sparks.

Kendall hollered as they inched closer to the ground. He knew that if Frank didn’t do something, he’d be roadkill.

Hold on! Frank screamed. They slid underneath a SUV, barely missing it, and Frank righted the bike, regaining control.

Kendall sighed, relieved to be alive.

Take the next exit, Brocc said.

Frank squeezed between two flying semis. He sped down a spiral exit ramp onto a narrow street that ran underneath the highway and toward a boardwalk.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, Frank said.

They drove further onto a pier, where the brown waves of Cola Bay beat against the pylons of the boardwalk.

Brocc cursed.

This city is too big, Brocc, Frank said.

He turned the bike around, but more Fry Guards on hovercycles raced toward them. He had no choice but to head for the beach.

Kendall smirked. Just surrender now, and I’ll put in a good word for you.

Frank made a sudden sharp turn, skidded, and lost control of the bike. Quickly, Brocc cut the rope, and Kendall flew free and crashed into a mound of sand. Brocc and Frank flew off the bike too, rolled across the sand, and the bike continued for several hundred feet before crashing into a telephone pole.

Ow! Kendall cried, wiping sand from his mouth.

Waves crashed against the rocks, spraying fizzy foam everywhere. A carnival in the distance lit up the shore, and a Ferris wheel sparkled against the night sky. Candy beach houses flanked both sides of the boardwalk.

We’re as screwed as a zucchini in brine, Frank said.

Brocc grabbed Kendall, and Frank drew his guns.

How are we going to get out of this one? Frank asked.

How about you apologize? Kendall asked.

Brocc was about to respond when the ground rumbled, almost knocking them off their feet.

A yellow and white cheeseburger-box tank with a long cannon rolled onto the boardwalk, accompanied by hovercycles.

The Fry Guards jumped off their hovercycles and aimed their guns at Brocc and Frank.

Drop your weapons, a guard said.

Damn it, Brocc said. He dropped his daggers and let Kendall go.

Kendall elbowed Brocc in the gut and Brocc keeled over, winded.

Thanks for ruining my night, stupid vegetables, Kendall said. You plants deserve every bullet you’re about to get.

He did silly dance and snapped his fingers several times.

Peace out. Ha ha haaaa!

He took off running toward the guards, but stopped suddenly when a shrieking sound came from above. He looked up to see a jet on fire and plummeting toward him.

Aww hell naw—

The shrieking grew louder. Kendall’s ears popped. He felt the shrieking in his bones.

Gaaahdayum—

He yelled as it crashed into the tank, blowing it up. He shielded himself with his arm, and when he looked at the tank again, he saw bits of flaming cardboard, lettuce, meat, and cheese everywhere.

All of the Fry Guards were dead.

The celery he had seen earlier dropped from the sky and landed in front of him. Her skin was greenish-yellow and she wore all black: black tank top, black leather pants, and black combat boots. Her whip was curled up and hung from her waist, and her brass knuckles—studded with diamonds—glinted and made her hands softly glow. She stared at Kendall angrily and stepped toward him, causing him to back away until he bumped into Brocc.

That’s going to go down in vegetable history, Frank said. I would pay to watch that explosion again in slow motion. Nice job, Celerity!

Maybe you can explain why I lost my powers, Celerity said, looking at Brocc.

Later, Brocc said.

Brocc tapped Kendall on the shoulder and grinned. What was that you were saying about vegetables?

Kendall stuttered, but only nonsense came out.

Celerity folded her arms. Let’s ditch the human. We can escape now.

No, Brocc said. He could be useful.

Fine, she said.

Kendall opened his mouth to object but Celerity struck him on the back of the head.

CHAPTER 4

Kendall woke up with a burlap sack over his head. He was in a chair, and his arms and legs were tied to it.

He was drugged, like someone had used a tonic to restore his consciousness. He was sleepy and his head hurt.

He heard Brocc’s voice in front of him.

You killed my sister. You eviscerated her, ran her through your machines, and discarded the husk of her body in the name of your awful science.

Kendall wanted to speak. He didn’t kill anyone’s sister. But Brocc continued, and Kendall guessed that he was talking to someone else.

You didn’t stop there. You invaded my country—a place of peace—and you enslaved everyone I’ve ever known, murdered those who resisted. Soon, you will dominate the world. But you forget that it is we, the vegetables, who are the rightful owners of this world—we who you have slain by the millions, we who are caged in your labs, we who live in your city as second-class citizens.

Kendall couldn’t make sense of anything.

I speak for those who can no longer speak. I speak with the madness that you yourselves have embraced. When I’m done with you, you’re going to wish that you had never started your hellish experiments.

Someone ripped the sack off Kendall’s head. He blinked rapidly and, as his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was in a disheveled apartment. The walls were cracked, exposing lathe, and the windows were boarded up. The place smelled like mildew, smoke, and mold.

A camera sat on a tripod in front of him. Celerity was holding it—and she was recording.

Brocc, still in his hood, stooped down next to Kendall and looked at the camera. He flipped his dagger into the air and caught it.

We have one of your model humans, he said.