Howdy, howdy everyone. What you are currently reading is a story that takes place in my own canon as sort of a hybrid between Goodbye Volcano High and Snoot Game. If you happen to hate Goodbye Volcano High and loved Snoot Game or vice versa, not to worry, this doesn't require both source material to understand. It will have call backs to both, so do look out for that. 

 

We were four hours out from South Pangea before our truck had arrived in Caldera Bay's relief center. It was a rather sprawling convoy of armored military trucks and white canopy tents set up with the biggest two being the med station and the lunch tent. The Lunch Tent possibly more so, standing about more than a story and half high meanwhile the med station was only about a story. The Lunch Tent in particular was a scalding blow of hot air when you went inside, compared to the frigid, glacial temperatures of outside as a result of the soot polluting the skies above and blocking out the UV light.

 

We had decided to make our way there first because it was right around the noon hour, and the long, uneventful ride to Caldera had left our stomachs rumbling. Stefano hadn't served us breakfast this morning at the veteran's center in South Pangea, so we had to contend with generic store brand cereals and bagels with cream cheese. Vance, the thirty-year-old azure velociraptor of my group, was the unluckiest of the bunch because he was carnivorous. Carnivores don't have the capacity to digest carbohydrate products such as cereals or bagels. Jarvis, the ebony bloke of the group with cornrows for hair, suspected that Stefano was working Caldera for the lunch hour because Naomi, the cotton candy colored Parasaurolophus with the gilded locks, was the youngest of the organization and was one of the organizers of Caldera's relief efforts. She was always standing with the underdogs, she was the straight A student of Volcano High, the one who volunteered the most during community events. At least that's what Helena Roberts, the oddball of our group, a Calderan dinosaur native, told me. 

 

Naomi was always the goody two shoes of the group. Always eagerly taking in volunteers who are eager to work for the cause regardless of background or skill. It was probably also why all the tables in the lunch tent were so perfectly aligned in rows with equal space between each line. She was someone who was very by the books. Again, at least that's what Helena Roberts told me on the way to Caldera. 

 

Naomi greeted us at the door with a clipboard dangerously close to her bosom. She was wearing the same PHF (Pretty Heroes Foundation) winter uniform we were all wearing; thick, furry blue coat, long baggy jeans, and the black, spike soled winter boots. She gave us a warm smile and gestured for us to line up at the kitchen line in the back of the tent. Roberts walked up to her and gave her a pat on the shoulder embellishing her with how she was doing a great job leading the relief efforts. Naomi's face was as crimson as rose petals as Roberts told her all this. Vance just rolled his eyes.

 

We all lined up at the kitchen line. Jarvis was in the front, Vance was behind him, I was behind Vance, and Roberts, dwarfing me in terms of size, was standing behind. She placed a hand on my shoulder gripping it tightly and said, 

 

"You feeling alright?"

 

I shrugged and craned my neck back at her with a smile. I forgot I was dead quiet as I was making my way to the lunch tent from the armored truck. Likely that she was thinking I was feeling anxious.

 

"I'll be fine. Just the first time I've seen an entire city in ruins is all. It's a bit of a surreal experience." I reassured.

 

Roberts was a bastion of optimism. "We'll rebuild. It'll just take some time. Don't worry about it." 

 

I nodded. Some species of dinosaur were notoriously tall, but Roberts was a giant compared to me. She made me feel like a kid getting reassured by a mother.

 

Sure, enough Jarvis' suspicions had been confirmed. From the second door at the far end of the tent around the kitchen area entered a fat, greasy, brutally unhealthy man with balding hair and an unflattering goatee wearing a marinara stained apron. Explained why it smelled of pasta when we first entered. Still, for a man pushing his fifties and looking like he could barely stand, he gave us a chipper "Hello, Hello!" with his typical exaggerated hand movements and welcomed us to his domain; the kitchen line.

 

"I see they have you working the kitchen line Stefano." Vance said with a big smile on his face. His eyes, however, showed pure devastation.

 

Stefano grinned from ear to ear, "They do, they have me as line cook. They said I was the only one who volunteered."

 

Line cook was something he liked to call himself. It wasn't pure exaggeration either; he genuinely thought he was a line cook at the veteran's center. His only real job was throwing pasta in a pot and waiting for it to boil to al dente. Then other cooks would come and pour the usual sauce and cheese all over and call it good. He was at best, an assembly cook., But he, for whatever reason, loved to call himself a line cook.

 

"I think it's great you're stepping up Stefano." Roberts said. 

 

Stefano nodded, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Roberts. I heard you used to teach at Volcano High here, is that correct?"

 

"That's correct."

 

"So, what brings you all out here this fine evening?" Stefano asked.

 

Vance, Roberts, Jarvis, and I, were running search around the perimeter just outside city limits right where the suburbs formally were before the asteroid impact rained hellfire on the streets at the behest of the Pretty Heroes Organization's main organizer, Fang. A group of teenagers, formally students of Volcano High according to Roberts, had turned up missing from the shelter a few days ago and it was our job to search for them. 

 

The names were Trish, a bullish purple triceratops with violet locks according to description. Reed, a pale red and white velociraptor who was said to show signs of extreme mental trauma according to reports, fun. Stella, the canary yellow stegosaurus. No further information reported. And the last was Naser, Fang's brother. He refused to cooperate with humans for whatever reason and now he's out and about in Caldera Bay most likely with the other three.

 

These were only four of eight of Fang's friends who the shelter reported. Naomi was here as one of the relief effort's organizers. Sage was working the kitchen line here, but took off to prepare to join us for the search, and Rosa was taken back to South Pangea to work in the agriculture sector. She had a knack for growing plants according to reports.

 

"Finding some former students of mine." Roberts spoke up, giving Stefano a warm smile.

 

"That's right," Stefano said with an overdramatic look of realization. "I heard they went missing a couple days ago. I hope they're okay, it looks brutal out there."

 

"Aye," Vance nodded grimly. "Temperatures report it's currently negative nine degrees Celsius out there."

 

Stefano's eyes went wide as he heard this. Indeed, nine degrees below zero was a tough climate to survive in especially if they've been gone for three days tops. Especially when all of them were just now turning eighteen with no survival experience in cold weather.

 

"So, what are we serving here Stefano?" Jarvis asked, gazing at the sweltering pots lined up against the wall. "I'm smelling some sort of pasta dish."

 

Stefano began his spiel using his exaggerated flailing of his arms and wide-eyed smiles, "So we need to make these dishes in bulk for the refugees. So, I thought I would try something new, cooking one of my signature dishes, 'Lazy Man's Lasagna'."

 

Oh lord of mercy, he's reinventing an old recipe again. I thought. Honestly, the way that he presented this innovation to man, I'd think he was some sort of salesman.

 

"Basically, the entire dish is store brand ziti, some ricotta, mozzarella," As he spoke, he gestured to the ingredients that were shelved on the back walls. "And some store brand marinara. I've made at least ten large pots as you can see behind me."

 

Sure enough, we could.

 

"I see, what about the carnivores?" Vance asked though I could tell from his expression he didn't want an answer.

 

"Don't think I forgot about your kind, Vance. I'm making chicken parm for the carnivores."

 

"Sounds delicious." Roberts said.

 

The 'chicken parm', as Stefano called it, was a grilled chicken thigh pan fried on a portable stove smothered with olive oil, spices, and marinara with cheese. Way too much cheese. I decided to order that because I was peckish for something meaty. Vance ordered the same. Jarvis and Roberts ordered the 'Lazy Man's Lasagna', just thinking about that name in retrospect makes me laugh. "Good choice!" Stefano said as he poured Jarvis and Roberts bowls of the rather bland and colorless mess of marinara and cheese. Vance and I's chicken parm, however, came out a bit blackened. Hopefully the marinara and cheese would compensate for the burnt flavor because there was a lot of it. 

 

Once we got our dishes, we made our way to the table at the far end opposite of the kitchens. Vance couldn't deal with Stefano's constant rabble and Jarvis got sick from smelling the overwhelming aroma of cheese from the kitchen area because if there was one thing Stefano loved it was cheese. Jarvis and Roberts got right to eating their 'Lasagna' 

 

Jarvis had a rather confused expression on his face as he chewed, and Roberts was glancing off yonder with a furrowed brow as she chewed and swallowed the lasagna dish. 

 

"Wow." Roberts said flatly.

 

"Not much to it." Jarvis said slouched on one hand. "Just cheese and nothing but. Hope you really like that."

 

"It's not the worst thing I've eaten." Roberts shrugged and took another bite. "But I agree, it's very cheesy."

 

Having observed Jarvis' and Roberts' scrutiny, I decided to cut into my chicken parm. The thigh's skin was completely burnt to a crisp, yet the innards of the chicken were still clucking with blood and pink to boot. Somehow, through sheer will or because he's someone who thinks he has to cut corners, Stefano made an oxymoron of a burnt raw chicken come to reality. Not sure how he did it, but he managed to do it with my chicken parm. 

 

"How's that looking there, Derrick?" Vance asked, smiling humorously in my direction.

"It's burnt and raw at the same time." I said. 

 

Roberts gave me a wide-eyed expression. "Really?" She said, taking a cursory glance at it. "Yeah, that's pretty raw."

 

"How the bloody hells do you do that?" Jarvis asked.

 

Roberts flagged Naomi down and gestured in my direction while telling her there was a problem with my dish. Naomi looked nervous as she was being described as the chicken that was somehow burnt and undercooked at the same time. 

 

"I'm so sorry." Naomi said, bowing her head. "Let me take a look at it."

 

Naomi gave it a cursory glance and confirmed that the chicken was indeed not up to standard for serving. The nervousness of her face soon turned to a scowl as she sighed dramatically. 

 

"It's the new wave Naomi, medium rare chicken." Vance said, trying to lighten her up.

 

"I'm not serving 'medium rare' chicken to the refugees. They've had more than enough shit to deal with. I promised Fang I'd serve them fresh, home cooked meals, not this." She stared daggers at Stefano who was busy sprinkling more cheese on some lasagna dishes for seven people in line. "I'm going to kick his fucking ass." 

 

What followed was Naomi flailing her arms angrily and shouting that we were just out of earshot of hearing. Stefano was looking absolutely terrified as the rose-colored dinosaur was shouting obscenities in his face to the point where I could see one hand wielding a spatula trembling like an earthquake. 

 

Jarvis smiled. "Not gonna lie, she is kind of cute when she gets going. For a dinosaur at least."

 

"Never knew you were dinosaurs, Jarvis." Vance said before taking a bite of his subpar chicken parm. His face winced as he chewed the hard, blackened skin.

 

Jarvis shrugged. "I've fucked worse things in high school. Honestly, I'd take her over any of those Northern Pangean bitches who post pictures of their asses on Stickstagram."

 

"Fair point." Vance nodded. "Thankfully I stuck my dick southwards. Married a nice broad who happened to work at her father's bakery."

 

I smiled in Vance's direction. "You should have asked her to bake cookies for the recovery effort."

 

"That's Sage's job." He said. "Besides, I would've felt bad stealing his thunder. That man can bake some killer creme brulee." Vance's eyes narrowed as he looked past me with a smile. "Speak of the goddamn devil."

 

I looked behind me and sure enough there was Sage, a rather stout peach colored raptor with violet feathers and hair, walking towards our table with a plate of what appeared to be crackers and various different cheeses. Most likely a generous donation from South Pangea. He made a wide toothy grin as he approached our table and set the large plate down before us. 

 

"Howdy, howdy, Chef Sage here to serve," He winked. "With hors d'oeuvres."

 

Vance laughed out loud. "I take it you knew in advance that Stefano was going to drop the ball this lunch hour?"

 

Sage sat down before us with a long, drawn-out sigh. "Yep, all of my protests fell on deaf ears, but that's okay. The 'lazy man's lasagna' as he calls it was my idea. I figured a dish that simple would be difficult to completely fuck up, but then I had to take into account the carnivores coming through and well--" He cut himself off.

 

"Things didn't turn out." I said with a chuckle.

 

"No, they didn't actually." He turned his gaze towards me. "Overheard Naomi yelling about chicken and I knew Stefano was making some improvisational adjustments as he wanted to do." He smirked, plucking a cracker and a piece of cheddar from the plate. "Burnt raw chicken. That's a new one. I'll need to write that down."

 

"Medium rare chicken." Vance said with a toothy grin. "I told Naomi it was the new wave."

 

Sage laughed out loud when he heard this and Ms. Roberts was just listening in as she was eating her rather bland looking lasagna, if anyone would even risk calling it that. She finally spoke up with a full mouth, "I mean it's not the worst thing I've eaten. It's actually edible."

 

Sage nodded in response. "Like I said, I knew Stefano couldn't fuck that up, so I had him make that for the herbivores and omnivores."

 

"Will the lunch tent be fine without you helping out here Sage?" Roberts asked while furrowing her brow.

 

"I mean if Naomi's able to keep him on a leash, I think things should be fine. We're really only making two meals strictly for two dietary alignments. Not to mention I've got more cooks coming in later so he'll have help and hopefully they can keep him in check." 

 

I frowned in Sage's direction. "You aren't very assured of that."

 

Sage sighed, shaking his head. "Because I'm not, actually. I told Naomi that hiring an underdog, while noble, was probably not the best idea given that Stefano has an infamous streak of making bland food at best and at worst, what he served you, Derrick." 

 

"She's young," Vance nodded sympathetically. "And she's fitting herself in some pretty big shoes."

 

"I think she's brave for taking on something this big." Roberts said, nodding along. "But, you're right Vance. I hope Naomi isn't overworking herself given that there'll be a lot more refugees coming through."

 

"I agree, but," Sage began patting both his knees with both hands. "We're not here to debate how to best handle this situation, we're here to discuss my missing friends which I'm going to help you guys find."

 

"And I will as well," Ms. Roberts said. "I was their teacher before the asteroid fell."

 

"Right," I said nodding while taking a cracker and a piece of sharp cheddar from the plate. "I suppose I should ask you first about Reed. The reports said he had extreme mental trauma, but the specifics were kind of vague."

 

Sage now had a look of absolute concern on his face. He frowned. "Yes, he--" He bit his lip. "He wasn't allowed outside of the shelter as the hot cloud was coming. His parents were likely incinerated. He wanted to die outside with them, but his parents insisted he was taken to safety."

 

"Raptor Jesus." Vance said with wide eyes.

 

Sage nodded, "Yeah, it's pretty fucked. Ever since then in the shelter, Naomi told me he was dead silent. Not talking to anyone, not even making eye contact. He's the one I'm the most worried about."

 

"I take it you two were good friends back before the impact?" I asked.

 

"Yeah, we used to play some nerd game called Legends and Lore back in the day. He always had this weird hyper fixation on it to the point where he'd act 'in character' even when we gathered around the table to start playing."

 

"Never heard of that game." Vance said eating a cracker with pastrami and mozzarella. "Then again I always strayed far from any of those nerdy hobbies and shit. The gym was always my domain."

 

"Isn't that the game you and I used to play when we were kids, Derrick?" Jarvis asked, smiling in my direction.

 

"Yep," I nodded, making a toothy grin. "You always were the rapier wielding warlock. You'd always spam Eldritch Blasts on the enemy knocking them back out of my smites. You also liked to get in the way of my retribution questline."

 

"Hey," Jarvis said, faking a serious look. "You fucking murdered every single slaver and criminal we came across even when they were peacefully surrendering."

 

"It's called being lawfully good." I said with a smug look. "You should read about it."

 

Vance shook his head as he listened. Everything we were talking about right now was completely eluding him and probably giving him secondhand embarrassment. Roberts had not a sliver of a clue what we were talking about. She just stared at us blankly trying to figure out what a paladin or a warlock was.

 

"Anyhow," Sage continued, raising a hand to interrupt. "Trish and Stella haven't shown any signs of any kind of debilitating trauma. They still seemed pretty broken up about the impact, but they weren't as badly broken as Reed seemed to be according to reports." He sighs, grabbing another cracker with cheese from the plate. "Naser on the other hand staunchly refused."

 

I nodded when I heard this. Naser's parents were staunchly pro-apartheid when humans were forced down into caves when they were exiled from dinosaur society. It's why they disowned Fang when they found out she had a relationship with a human who went by the moniker 'Anon'. They both are in a band called Worm Drama and they preached anti-apartheid messages which only drew more ire from the dinosaurs outside of South Pangea and North where humans were forced to live. 

 

"Let me guess, we're to expect resistance." Vance asked. 

 

"Indeed," Sage nodded grimly. "Which is why I specifically suggested you guys. Vance, Jarvis, you two are ex-military. I've permitted you to carry weapons which you are to only use in a situation where there's no other solution." He glanced at both Vance and Jarvis. "Are we clear?"

 

Roberts should've freaked out when she heard all of this, but she gave a look of reassurance towards all of us. "This shouldn't be necessary for you two. I know Naser, he was our class president. I'm sure he'll listen to reason."

 

"Wouldn't be so sure of that missy." Jarvis said shaking his head. "We're talking about apartheidist dinosaurs here. Those fuckers hate us humans. He'll probably think we're taking him captive."

 

"That's why you have me." Roberts said. "I'm here to play diplomat. I know these people."

 

Vance just shrugged. Any reassurance that Roberts provided didn't seem to sway him. "We best finish up here then. Only going to get colder out there and I don't think their chances are looking all that great."