After the Walmart incident, Fender and Epi had exchanged numbers and began planning a family gathering with all the siblings, except for Rickenbacker, who was still loyal to Markov. Then came the dilemma of were to do the meeting. Epi’s house in the arctic was out of the question as it, ironically, burned down. Fender as a full time maid didn’t really have a house, he stayed wherever he was working at the time, so that wouldn’t work. Ibanez still relayed escapees from Markov and lived on Markov property, there was no chance they would go back there. This left Gibson, one of the richest people south of the Tree. Gibson resided in a lovely community titled ‘T1C2’ (pronounced tik-two, but also referred to as Pixelated Ancapistan) The only issue was, they couldn’t afford to even look like they could afford living there. A strange call to Gibson ensued.

“Fender! Haven’t heard from you in a while man, whats up?”

“Hello Gibson, how do you feel about a having family gathering at your place?”

“Uh, Without Ricky and dear old dad right? And without pip, unfortunately.” Disappointment and sadness showed through his usual over confident tone in the last sentence.

“Well, about that-” Gibson cut him off, assuming Fender and Rick had made amends.

“Ricky has tried to kill my husband and I over seventeen times, he is not coming near the walls, let alone my home.”

“No, Its about Pip-“ Gibson cut him off again, overjoyed at the concept that Epi may be alive.

“Oh? Have you heard from him? How is he!”

“She, is doing well” Fender put emphasis on the word ‘she’ hoping he wouldn’t have to explain things.

“She?”

“Yes, she”

“Oh! My apologies.” Gibson replied, dragging out the ‘oh’ to audibly show his understanding.

“You took that well”

“Im in a gay marriage you dumb fuck” The wealthy one said, light heartedly.

“No need for insults, brother.” Fender said in the same light tone as his sibling.

“Anyway family gathering at my place you say? Can y’all afford that? I know Z can but I’m unsure you and Pip could make it past the toll gate.”

“Yes about that”

“You need money from me again, don’t ya.” Gibson sighed.

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

And with that, the call ended.

After a few days of planning, convincing, and organizing, the group decided on a time and a date. Friday, the 26th of May.

Fender approached a set of large ornate gates, made of acacia, stone, warped, and gold. A villager stood in front of the gate, a sign with the words ‘Buy a toll mask, and an entry pass here’ was hung above the man.

“Toll mask?” Pip asked

“It counts how many breaths you take so it can charge you. I brought our own, I work here a lot, so I have some spares” Fender said, as though it was normal.

“Oh. I don’t even breathe but I never thought I would have to PAY for air. How in the overworld has it gotten to where people need to pay for air now” Pip exclaimed, clearly distressed.

“Its how it is, do keep your voice down, we must pretend we belong here”