The prices seemed outrageous, but he wasn’t sure if they actually were or if he just spent too much time on the internet. The last thing he had bought in a physical store that wasn’t food or entertainment or electronics was condoms.

He was surprised that they weren’t being followed. Beauty shops in Riverdale were notoriously hostile to black customers despite being sustained entirely by black money. A few years back, one store had even tried to implement a dress code: no sandals with socks, no do-rags, no bonnets, no sweatpants, no hats, no jerseys, no spaghetti straps, no A-shirts. It had stayed in business a whole two weeks before closing with a huge liquidation sale during which people bought the store’s banned items in bank-breaking bulk.

Zed stopped abruptly, her eyes settling on a bright red wig of straight hair. “RiRi red, yaaas,” she declared. “This is your look.” Kai grimaced, looking back at Apollo and Theo for confirmation. They exchanged shrugs.

The crew made their way to the counter, where they were politely greeted by a bored Korean clerk. “Will you be purchasing anything else today?” the clerk asked as she rang up the wig, addressing them all. Apollo stared at the front door. “Are you sure?” the clerk insisted, facing Theo in particular. “We have bandanas…” she began. Apollo scowled. “They help with the heat,” she finished.

“I’ll pass,” Theo responded, flashing a smile.

Exiting the store, Apollo turned to Kai. “Where to next?” Apollo checked his phone. 12:47. They had six hours until Sol got off work. Apollo wondered why in the hell they had met up so early.

“Let’s go see Jerry,” Zed suggested.

“Who’s Jerry?” Apollo asked as he and Zed filed into her car.

“An old friend,” Zed replied. She clicked her seat belt and started the engine. Apollo groaned. He hated mysteries. He hacked precisely because he thought there were too many mysteries in the world, too many black boxes, too many encrypted files, too many passwords.

His thoughts were drowned out by NPR, Zed’s favorite station and the only one she ever tuned in to. “What is the legacy of Dwayne McDuffie?” the broadcaster asked. Apollo perked up, energized by a faint recognition of the name. His brow furrowed as the intro segment segued into an equally familiar symphonic music clip.

“Ughhh,” Zed moaned. “More cartoon shit.” She flicked off the radio, plunging Apollo into another chasm of mystery.

They rode in silence as Kai and Theo led them south down Highway 85. The car lurched to the right when Zed hit a left turn too quickly. “Sorry!” she shrieked. They continued down Church Street, passing homes and a school, eventually turning left down Evans Road, a winding side street. Zed slowed as they pulled into a church parking lot.

“Ohhh, Dwayne McDuffie basically invented the Justice League cartoon,” Apollo said with awe, looking up from his phone, mouth agape.

“And Static Shock,” Zed said matter-of-factly, removing her seat belt and clicking the trunk open. Apollo joined her outside of the vehicle, where she stood with a paint-splattered beige tote bag. He loved this chick.