A strange ache stirred in Caroline's chest, especially when she remembered the penguin couple that had lived here. They had spent years trying to hatch eggs but failed every time. Once, there had even been a news story about them. The city had cheered when they finally laid an egg, thinking they would soon see a baby penguin. But a few days later, the egg died. After that, she returned to the park and seen how the pair moped around their enclosure, looking heartbroken. Her thoughts broke when Sharon spoke beside her. “It's the great heat now, but somehow these animals survived. They keep breaking out to steal food and attack people. They've become the rulers of this area. They're clever, united, and every one of them has an ability. We've tried to wipe them out several times, but it never worked. If you can kill them all, we'll give you whatever you want.” Caroline tilted her head slightly. “Fine. I'll try.” But what she meant by try was far different from what they heard. She couldn't help wondering, Would A Lovely Day in the Neighborhood work on mutant animals too? With that in mind, she walked into the aquarium. Raven was at her side and Jet, newly released, was trotting behind. Inside, the air was cooler than she had expected. The power was still running, the ice machines humming softly. Even after so long since the world ended, the systems were still alive. It wasn't surprising. Before the apocalypse, marine parks like this had used high-end equipment. And with mutant creatures guarding the place now, no one else had managed to damage or loot it. Just as Caroline expected, it didn't take long after stepping inside for her to find the power control room. Everything inside ran automatically. The system had been pre-programmed, and the generators were state-of-the-art. There was more than one, too, each ready to take over the moment another failed. Caroline continued down the corridor. Before long, she spotted her first mutant creature—a gentoo penguin. She was almost certain it was one of the penguin pair she had seen here before the apocalypse, though she couldn't tell which one. A thick white stripe sat above its eyes, an obvious mark of its kind. But now its feathers had changed. Its entire body was covered in bold black-and-white stripes like a zebra's, and it stood nearly as tall as Caroline. Its beak looked razor sharp, as if it could slice steel. Except it was balding. The feathers on its head were gone, leaving a patch of pink skin bare and shiny. It looked unsettlingly like a greasy middle-aged man losing his hair. The bird froze for a moment, startled that a human had dared to walk into its domain. Then it opened its beak and shrieked, a harsh, cutting sound that filled the space. It flapped its wings with violent force. A gust of wind ripped outward, carrying shards of snow and ice. Each snowflake was the size of a hand, its edges sharp enough to cut through flesh with a single touch. Caroline knew instantly this wasn't the round, adorable penguin she remembered. She dodged aside with Raven close by, but she didn't strike back. She wanted to see if her ability could work—to bring these mutated animals under control without violence. Through the howling storm, she reached into her pack and threw a fish. It was a frozen sardine, still fresh. She remembered one of the staff here mentioning how much the penguins loved that particular kind. The moment the fish hit the ground, the raging wind stopped. The fat penguin stared at the sardine in front of it, looking lost. Penguins were never smart creatures. Even with a body that had mutated and grown larger, its brain probably wasn't much bigger than a walnut. Caroline's lips curved into her signature smile. She spoke gently, her tone light, “Hey, little penguin. Let's make a deal, okay? I've got plenty more fish. There's no need for us to fight.” She stood ready, tense but patient. If it didn't work, she'd act fast.She'd kill the flightless bird. Killing one would still give her enough energy to feed her storage space. But the penguin didn't seem to care. It snapped up the sardine and turned to run. A fat penguin, running like an athlete. Its short legs paddled across the ground, each step loud and clumsy, almost comically frantic, like it was racing its own body weight. But before it could get far, another penguin appeared from the side, drawn by the first one's cry.