《Glitch》


 Boot-Up 1.1

    Brief author¡¯s note: This is not a story for children. The opinions expressed by the characters in this story do not reflect the opinions of the author.


    When Miss Mckenzie spoke, it was with a happy, high-pitched voice, as if she were entertaining preschoolers instead of teaching history in an IRL community college. When she spoke to me, it was with the tone of someone scolding a puppy that just shat on the couch.


    Classes had ended five minutes ago and there was no way in hell that I was going to stay in that dumpy building for a minute longer. Unfortunately, the five-foot-nothing bint was waving her finger in my face and standing between me and freedom.


    ¡°Mr Reid,¡± she began. ¡°Mr Reid, I respect your right to have an... opinion in my class. Nonetheless; you cannot mock other students. It is disrespectful and rude. If you want to express your opinion so much you can jack in at home and take classes from there. The reason this kind of class exists is so that you can spend time with actual people. That won¡¯t last if you keep acting the way you are.¡±


    ¡°I know, but they¡¯re so,¡± I paused, pressing two fingers and a thumb to my mouth like an Italian chef looking over a masterpiece. ¡°So stupid,¡± I finally said.


    Her eyes flashed dangerously. ¡°That may be Mr Reid but--¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait, did you just admit that your students are stupid?¡±


    I watched in equal parts fascination and glee as the last bit of the conversation replayed in her mind. She flushed and poked me in the chest. ¡°Mr Reid. You are a bright young man. Perhaps one that ought to learn to control his tongue a little better, but bright nonetheless. If you only applied yourself a little more and spent less time insulting your classmates--¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s so easy,¡± I whined, cutting her off mid-sentence. ¡°Also, it¡¯s fun. Speaking of fun. Class ended a few minutes ago. I wanna go home, eat, do my homework, then watch some kinky porn while touching myself. I¡¯ve got shit to do.¡±


    She sputtered, face reddening as she stood just a little straighter. ¡°Mr Reid, you¡¯re not in high school any more. I could have you punished for such insolence.¡±


    ¡°Oh, punishment huh?¡± I winked at her. ¡°Well damn, I guess I¡¯ll be looking up teacher-student kinks tonight. I¡¯ll be thinking of you!¡± I called over my shoulder as I brushed past her.


    ¡°M-Mr Reid! Mr Reid, I wasn¡¯t done,¡± she shouted down the corridor.


    A few students glanced my way, but I ignored both them and the pissed off teacher as I walked along. The streaming mass of young adults gave way and I found myself walking onto one of the open floors of the college building. It was one of those little ¡®parks¡¯ where the roof was high enough to accomodate a few dozen trees and maybe a footballfield¡¯s worth of actual grass.


    It was one of those days where the ecologists decided to turn up to artificial sunshine to kill off the last of winter¡¯s chill. Short skirts and brighter clothes were the order of the day. There was a festive scent to the air as the student body got used to being able to stay outside for more than a minute without getting frost bitten.


    There were, of course, the usual groups. Some polo-wearing bastards were flinging a frisbee on the lawn. The STEM students were looking around with narrowed eyes while rushing to get back indoors. And, of course, there was a small flock of kids around the school¡¯s most popular student.


    Dean Michaels


    Metalsmith


    The words floated a foot or so atop his head, easily visible above the crowd of gawkers and groupies. And it was authentic, none of that blurriness that came with a hologram or a projection, he was the real deal, an honest to god Awakened.


    I¡¯m not the sort of guy that wants to hang around those that are popular, nor do I care much for gossip and whatnot. Still, even I had to admit that I strained my neck to take a look at Dean. For every ten thousand or so people in North America, there was one Awakened.


    The Awakened were almost all miniature celebrities and not just because they were the only ones that could fight off the Insanity. There were Awakened gang-leaders and politicians, firefighters, criminals and sponsored heroes; anything little kids wanted to be when they grew up but kicked up to eleven. Every corp from Walmart to Amazon to Utopia Industries wanted their hands on the Awakened.


    I kept moving and reached the outer edges of the campus. I walked off the main pathways and through a little alley that lead down and to one of the public transfer stations. There were still students here and there, talking, texting or going on about their day, but there were far fewer. Enough that I noticed the three boys following me after only a few dozen steps.


    I stayed quiet for once, a small smile gracing my lips as I hitched up my bag and tried to place the faces of my new fanclub. They were in some of my classes, that much I knew. The tubbiest one was definitely in the history class I¡¯d walked out of. I had vivid and pleasurable memories of asking him if he was the cause of the last famine. Shaking my head and putting the thought aside, I began to veer off the and towards a parking lot when a hand grabbed me by the elbow.


    ¡°Come on, Richard, we¡¯re heading this way,¡± the tallest of the boys said. I recall seeing him playing for the school¡¯s hockey team a while back. He was a big fellow and it showed as he pulled me along after him.


    ¡°You know, some people say that holding hands is first base. Hands. That¡¯s my elbow. If you want to progress this relationship you might want to start on the right foot... or hand.¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± he said before picking up the pace. A few folk glanced our way, but they were quick to ignore us. It wasn¡¯t any of their damned business what happened to a stranger. Campus Security would take care of things if they got too violent, or they would had I still kept up my premium payments. I was starting to regret bushing off all their ads.


    I¡¯m not one for panicking, but when you¡¯re dragged into an alleyway and shoved up against a waff back-first, well, it was enough to get my heart racing. So I did what I always did when I was nervous, I smiled. ¡°Ah, shit. I forgot my rape-whistle at home. Can I have a raincheck?¡±


    Tall dark and muscly poked me in the chest, hard. ¡°Shut up. We¡¯re going to have a conversation, and by that I mean I¡¯m going to talk and you¡¯re going to listen.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not much--¡± I tried to say, only to reel back as a firm hand slapped me across the face.


    I blinked a few times and reached up to touch my sore cheek. It wasn¡¯t the hardest slap I¡¯d ever gotten, but it sure as hell shut me up. One of the boys, not tall and dark or tubby, but the extra, snorted, pulled out a can of LVL-UP and popped the tab. ¡°This is fun,¡± he said before taking a sip.


    ¡°I walked into Mrs McKenzie¡¯s class and she was crying. Turns out you were a right asshole to her. I don¡¯t mind when you talk out of turn. Hell, sometimes you¡¯re even funny. But you¡¯re starting to go to far, Richard,¡± Tall and dark said.


    ¡°Yeah, and I want you to apologize,¡± said tubby. ¡°You made fun of me in front of everyone today. That shit¡¯s not cool.¡±


    I blinked a few times, eyes going from one boy to the next, then pointed at my mouth and raised one eyebrow. ¡°Yeah, you can speak,¡± tall and dark said.


    ¡°Oh, cool. Love speaking. One of my favourite hobbies. Now, I don¡¯t know what sort of crush you¡¯ve got on the history teacher, but I can understand. She¡¯s almost cute. Still, I¡¯m not open to threesomes when it¡¯s two dudes and one milf.¡±


    I would have gone on, but tall and dark slugged my across the jaw and I found myself on one knee, the world spinning around me. ¡°She¡¯s my mom, you stupid shit,¡± he yelled at me. Bit of a miscalculation there.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I spat blood.


    ¡°You,¡± I said, my voice raw, ¡°are a right bunch of assholes, you know that? Christ, you made my jacket all dirty and shit. I¡¯ll need to get it dry-cleaned now.¡± I hacked a cough to suck back some of the blood that trickled down my throat. The three boys across from me didn¡¯t seem impressed by the display. Maybe it was because they outnumbered me. Maybe it was because I was cornered, steel walls raising up on either side and behind. Maybe it was because, even after getting slapped around, I was still talking shit.


    ¡°Richard,¡± The history teacher¡¯s offspring said. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you, I don¡¯t know, shut up? Come on, we¡¯ll bring you to the nurse¡¯s office, get your jaw checked out.¡±


    ¡°Just ¡®cause I said all those things about your mom,¡± I said, my face twisting in a grin that showed off bloody gums. ¡°And that one thing about tubby¡¯s obese ass.¡±


    ¡°My name¡¯s Tim.¡±


    ¡°Shut up, fatso,¡± I shot back. ¡°Your betters--and by that I mean me--are talking. Where was I before tubby interrupted?¡± My rhetorical question was met with three darkening looks. ¡°Oh right, just because the lot of you have whores for mothers, and you,¡± I pointed at Tim. ¡°Think that Twinkies are part of a balanced diet, doesn¡¯t give you little shits the right to push me around.¡± I twisted my head to one side until my neck clicked.


    ¡°God. We¡¯ve dealt with your shit since middle school. When the hell are you going to grow up?¡± He started to walk forwards, hand balling into a fist at his side.


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait,¡± I said, hands raising up in surrender. ¡°Just, hear me out guys. I... I¡¯m sorry. I had a tough life, okay? My dad left me and my ma¡¯ alone years back, and I¡¯ve been trying hard to keep things together at home, you know?¡± I swallowed, and looked down, eyes brimming with unshed tears. ¡°I¡¯m smart, you all know it. And if I rub it in sometimes, it¡¯s because deep down, under this beautiful face, I¡¯m hiding a deep well of insecurity and doubt.¡±


    The boys paused, the two at the back sharing a quick glance. ¡°You¡¯re sorry?¡± Tim said.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry that I have to deal with little two-bit side character, NPCs like you on a daily basis. I¡¯m sorry that you¡¯ll never be as pretty or as clever as me. I¡¯m sorry that, when you look back in twenty years after beating your third wife for not microwaving your chicken nuggets enough, you¡¯ll remember the times you spent in the same room as me as the best moments of the sorry excuses that pass for your lives.¡± My grin returned. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry that you¡¯re dumb enough to believe half the shit I spou--¡±


    My words cut off with a grunt as a hard fist rammed against my cheek.


    With a startled cough, I sprawled backwards and onto my side, hands scraping on the alley¡¯s uneven ground as I scrambled for purchase. My backpack had torn open, spilling out notebooks and papers everywhere.


    Before I could find my feet, Tim stepped forwards and kicked me in the ribs. ¡°Oh, shit, Timmy, you kick like a fatass. Don¡¯t skip gym class,¡± I said between pants. It earned me another kick, this time in the stomach.


    ¡°You¡¯re a dick, Richard. A real piece of work,¡± Tim shouted down at me.


    ¡°Please, you wouldn¡¯t know work if it walked into the room with a bag full of timbits.¡±


    Tim pulled his leg back for another swing, but one of his friends grabbed him by the elbow and stopped him. ¡°Leave him. We¡¯ll get into enough trouble if they find him like this,¡± the boy said.


    ¡°Aww, are you concerned for me?¡± I said. I was pressing a hand against the tender spot on my side, right below the ribcage. That was going to leave one hell of a bruise. Tim had some weight to him, and that translated well to kicks. ¡°You know what, next time I¡¯m humping that whale mother of yours I¡¯ll remember your generosity. I¡¯ll nut inside her, just for you--¡±


    I was cut off by a boot to the face. ¡°Shut the hell up!¡±


    There was a snap as something broke and I found myself blinking away tears while blood streamed down my face and into my mouth. There was another blow, this time right in my kidneys. I couldn¡¯t bite back the scream that tore out of my throat. ¡°You ath. Ah gonnah fuch you hup!¡± I shouted, words mangled by my broken nose.


    ¡°You dick, don¡¯t you know when to stop?¡± Tim said before stomping down on my side. ¡°You¡¯re a bully, a... an ass. No one likes you, Richard. Just, just shut up!¡± His next blow hit me on side of the head. ¡°You¡¯re insane!¡±


    My skull cracked against the pavement and I saw a flash of black and white, stars filling my vision even as creeping dizziness washed over me like a rising tide. For a few seconds I thought that was it, that I was going to die in some dirty alleyway because I¡¯d poked fun at someone¡¯s mom. I opened his mouth to retort, to insult him one last time even though I was having difficulty stringing the words of an insult together. Instead, I retched, vomiting a mouthful of blood and saliva that dribbled down my chin.


    The boys argued behind me. One of them thought they¡¯d gone too far, that they should call for help. The others weren¡¯t so sure, they said that I hadn¡¯t learned my lesson yet.


    Me, learn my lesson? Those three little shits. I didn¡¯t even know two of their names. They were specks; unimportant background characters.


    Tears mingled with the blood on my face as I cried, then started to laugh at the same time. It was a nasally laugh that had blood draining down my gullet. I swallowed back to clear my throat, to make sure my next words would be heard loud and clear. ¡°You¡¯re, you¡¯re all mediocre!¡±


    The world went quiet.


    I paused, blinking back tears. I was in a vast ocean of nothing. Not white, not black, an absolute absence that I couldn¡¯t quite fathom as anything other that ¡®nothing.¡¯


    I still hurt, my mind was still spinning, but it was as though I was separated from it all. ¡°What?¡±


    Something whispered in my ear and mind, a voice neither male nor female that came from everywhere.


    ¡°For it is on the battlefield that the closest of bonds are forged.


    Through the fires of Faith, the numbness of Hope and the Infinite Sleep, we watch as you stand before what you know to be True.


    Your Faith shall falter, your Hope will wither, you will Awaken; and by these actions we will release your soul and leave you unbound by death.


    We are one with the will of the world.


    Awaken, Richard Reid, Paladin of the Faithless.¡±


    I gasped, the world, the alleyway, coming back to sharp focus. My ribs ached, there was a throb in my lower back with every heartbeat, and every breath I took sent a wave of pain through the mess that was my nose.


    For all that, though, I felt a little lighter, a bit stronger. It was as if I was submerged in deep water, made weightless by my own buoyancy. Blinking up to the sky, I took in the grey words floating a foot above my head for all the world to see.


    Richard Reid


    Paladin


    I laughed, a triumphant, gleeful sound that cut off whatever conversation the nearby boys were having.


    I was one of the Awakened. For every ten thousand normal, mediocre idiots there was one of them, one of us, those that could fight back the creeping Insanity and who could grow to become more than just human.


    My laughter only grew louder when I saw the shock writ large on the faces of my would-be assailants. Twisting around to push myself up, I got up on shaky feet and grinned. ¡°Would you look at that. I am better than you after all.¡±


    Author¡¯s note: First and foremost: I don¡¯t like author¡¯s notes when I¡¯m reading a story, so this will probably be the only one barring unforeseen exceptions. So, since it¡¯s the only one you¡¯ll see until the end of this first arc, I¡¯ll make it nice and informative.


    The idea for this story has been floating around in the back of my mind for a while now, and after writing a few ¡®first¡¯ chapters I decided to just up and post what you see here. I¡¯m in no way a great writer, so please forgive any foibles and errors I have made and will make in the future.


    Now, onto what you can expect if you decide to move on. I dislike stories, especially in the LitRPG genre, that end each chapter with a skill list and stats. They¡¯re dull and serve as little more than padding. Don¡¯t expect them here. In fact, stats being hidden and viewable only by the person having them will be a plot point moving on. Yes, this will mean that you¡¯ll have to use your memory once in a while because Richard won¡¯t be checking his stats every chapter or even every other chapter. The same for skills, abilities, and passives. Very little time will be devoted to min-maxing.


    This is, primarily, an exercise in world building, and is set in North America sometime after 2030 and while the story may touch politics, it won¡¯t do so in any way other than to speculate on how politics would be affected by random people suddenly gaining superhuman abilities.


    There will be swearing (if you haven¡¯t noticed it yet) and maybe some light sexual content though nothing pg.18 (or explicit) will appear in this story. If I decide to write something saucier I¡¯ll link it in an author¡¯s note.


    Comments are appreciated, criticism will be taken in the spirit that it is given, and attacks on my person or on anyone else in whatever passes for a comments section will be reported. I¡¯m here to write pretty words, not babysit petty fools.


    That being said, if you have any questions, feel free to toss them my way and I¡¯ll answer as promptly as I can. I don¡¯t mind spoiling my own stories since that kind of discussion usually helps ideas grow. On that note, I¡¯d appreciate it if spoilers were kept discrete.


    On a final note: this story was inspired by Worm, by John C. "Wildbow" McCrae, Forged Destiny, by Coeur al¡¯Aran and Snow Crash, by Neal Stephenson. I¡¯ve done what every writer has done and stole some of their best ideas to see what I could do with them. If any of you sees this, then you have my greatest thanks; your works made me step back and look at things in a new light, I only hope to be half as good as you one day.


    Keep warm; stay cool


    Edgar A.

 Boot-Up 1.2

    Boot Up 1.2


    When the first Awakened showed up some thirty years ago most people thought it was one big practical joke. It didn¡¯t help that the words floating above an Awakened¡¯s head can¡¯t be captured on camera.


    The first reported Awakened in North America was a twelve year old girl who got the unfortunate Nutritionist class. Rather lame, all things said and done. Still, she grew to be quite famous, even more so when they finally let her actually cook something.


    Bread that could restore a person¡¯s health, meatloaf that buffed stats and food that otherwise tasted (reportedly, I was never rich enough to buy anything Awakened-made) pretty damned good. It wasn¡¯t so much that the girl was a talented chef that was impressive, no, it was that she could literally make cancer-curing toast.


    Her stuff sold like hotcakes, pardon the pun.


    Of course, it took all of a minute before the authorities jumped on that, but by then the news was out and more and more Awakened were popping up across the world. There was some fuss over protecting the Awakened who were all pretty much between the ages of ten and twenty. There was more fuss when, maybe a month after the little Nutritionist girl became famous, some paparazzi got a little too handsy with her and she reacted by using one of her Skills on national television.


    Seeing a twelve year old be grabbed by a man only for him to literally Bake to a nice brown crisp was something of a shock. I mostly thought it was funny the way his face slackened before he caught fire.


    That¡¯s when the lobbyists and politicians finally got the leeway they needed in North America to start an association called the NAAA, or the North American Awakened Association.


    They were the ruling body, supporters, and trainers of anyone that awakened. Part social services, part policing force, part scientific research group, they did as any governmental association would and muddled in things best left unmuddled. The bigger corps got their slice of pie too, but they were generally pretty fair to Awakened. They didn¡¯t want to alienate the new one percent.


    The trek back home was pretty long. Usually I¡¯d have boarded a tram over to Residential Block Oh-Oh-Four, the super building where I lived, but the damned things were always packed to the gills. The words floating above my head would make me stand out like a whore in one of those hyper-Christian enclaves. I¡¯d probably get jumped just as quickly too.


    So when I snuck out of the alleyway those three assholes had left me in, I pulled out my phone and Uber¡¯d a self-driving car to the nearest intersection. It was going to cost me, but at least I made it to my block in relative peace.


    Residential Block Oh-Oh-Four was nothing to write home about. Twenty flours of housing units stretched over nearly a square kilometer. An optimised nest of corridors, living spaces, mini-shopping centres and even a small park, all surrounded by a few thousand shoe-box apartments.


    It was the kind of shithole no one wanted to live in, but it was affordable on a student¡¯s budget and relatively clean. The corp that ran the place had this whole spiel about safety and security, which meant that drug pushers were pretty discrete and the block had its own security force that patrolled at all hours.


    I slid into one of the side entrances, nodding a greeting to one of the girls smoking by the entrance. I probably looked like shit with my bruised nose and the slouched way I was walking to keep the pressure off of my ribs. Inside, it smelled like sweat, antibacterial spray and pot smoke, basically the smell I¡¯d started to associate with home.


    There were elevator wells at each corner of the block where restaurants and shops tried to grab your attention before you made your way back up to your apartment. It was possible, easy even, to live your entire life in a single block. That was, if you were willing to stomach junk food every day.


    I paused right next to the elevator that would bring me closest to home and walked up to the unoccupied counter of a small Burger King. A screen flipped out of the counter, brilliant advertisements for daily specials flashing by before a soothing recorded voice asked me what I wanted to order.


    Ignoring the display, I leaned up against the counter and dragged myself into the store. ¡°Hey, Dip?¡± I called over the thrum of ovens and the clickety-clack of the machines preparing themselves for rush hour.


    ¡°Rich!¡± a deep baritone replied. Ten seconds later a man that had more in common with a whale than homosapians waddled his way around to the counter. ¡°You still on for tonight¡¯s shift?¡± he asked before tossing a towel onto one uniformed shoulder. ¡°Tania¡¯s preggers again and I need someone to cover real bad tonight. Chirst, you look like you got into a fist fight with a wall. What happened to your face?¡±


    ¡°Nah, fuck that,¡± I said. The job was about what you¡¯d expect for minimum wage at a fast food joint. It was hours of boredom with the occasional panic when something broke down and you had to call corporate to send tech support over to make every better. But shit, it was cash, literally a floor down from home, and the hours were alright for a student. If I was sneaky I could even get some homework done between shifts. ¡°Just here to tell you that I quit.¡± I couldn¡¯t keep the smile from my face, and really, there was no reason to.


    ¡°What? Shit, those assholes at that thai place upstairs poach you? I knew I shouldn¡¯t have fucked the owner¡¯s daughter, but but that¡¯s no reason to shit on me like that, you know? They the ones that screwed your nose up?¡± Dip said.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Nah man,¡± I said then pointed up to somewhere above my head. My grin grew to shit-eating proportions. ¡°I¡¯m heading for the big leagues.¡±


    Dip followed the direction my finger was pointing in, then his eyes went comically wide as he took in the name and role floating there. ¡°Jesus H. Christ on a toaster strudel.¡± Dip looked at me, then back at the words floating there. With clumsy fingers he reached into a pocket and pulled out a smartphone that he waved before his face, the camera pointed my way. ¡°Holy shit, they¡¯re not showing on pics.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, no shit, it¡¯s the real deal, Dip,¡± I said. Dip was an okay guy, but it I never saw him again I wasn¡¯t about to shed tears over it. ¡°I¡¯m off to my room, bro. See you never!¡± With that said I pushed away from the counter and started making my way to the elevator.


    ¡°Wait, who¡¯s gonna cover your shift?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I could honestly not care any less,¡± I called back.


    ¡°Hey, Rich, remember me when you¡¯re all famous and loaded alright!¡± he called after me. ¡°And if you see Tania, send her pregnant ass down here.¡±


    ¡°Will do!¡± I said as I slipped into the elevator and tapped the panel for the second floor. Seconds later the lift jerked up and I was on my floor. I had to sidestep around some teens lounging on the floor with their phones plugged into a walljack but otherwise the path home was quiet.


    After unlocking my door with a press of my thumb to a pad, I pushed into my own little slice of heaven. 300 square feet of cheap linoleum, a bed tucked into one corner of my living room/kitchen/bedroom. ¡°Welcome home, Richard,¡± the house¡¯s virtual intelligence said. I locked the door behind me then just stood there.


    I didn¡¯t really know where to go from there. Sure, I was Awakened. I could probably do all sorts of cool shit now, but that didn¡¯t mean I knew what any of those things were. It didn¡¯t exactly come with an instruction manual and what I knew about the Awakened, what I really knew, could probably fit in a pamphlet.


    I would probably continue going to school, which sounded about right, but you didn¡¯t see too many Awakened just taking normal jobs. Most of them were hired out by the government or some corporation or another. They were supposed to be the only ones able to fight off the Insanity, and they, no we, were supposed to have powers just a bit beyond human .


    My hand flexed by my side, opening and closing. I didn¡¯t feel powerful. In fact, I felt like shit. My bathroom was pretty pathetic, but I stepped over tohe dirty towels pressed up against my shower and leaned against the sink to stare at myself in the mirror.


    One cheek was redder than the other, my nose had a nice bluish-purple tint to it, and there was still a fair bit of blood on the collar of my shirt. I started to undress, unceremoniously tossing my clothes aside before hopping into the shower.


    I leaned back while lukewarm recycled water ran down my body. ¡°Home, do I have messages?¡± I called out over the sound of the shower.


    ¡°You have... thirty-three, new messages,¡± The VI said.


    I blinked at that. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You have... thirty-three, new messages,¡± the simplistic computer repeated.


    ¡°Holy shit,¡± I muttered. I was used to maybe one or two messages a week. Mostly shit about my rent almost being late or my phone bill being unpaid. ¡°Start at the first one,¡± I said.


    ¡°Message one: ¡®Hello Mr. Reid, this is Timothy Muisk of the North American United Banking Clan, I¡¯m your new financial advisor. I just wanted to be the first to congratulate you on you Awakening and to inform you that your bank account has been upgraded from standard bronze to premium platinum. We also added any interest you would have made retroactively to your account. We¡¯ll be sending you your new chip by express mail, you should receive it within the day. Please, if you have any questions, feel free to call me. We hope you continue to employ us for all your banking needs. Goodbye.¡¯¡±


    I stepped out of the shower, more confused than when I went in. ¡°Home, delete that one.¡±


    ¡°Message Deleted. Message two: Hey, this is Geonavi, for Slice and Slice Pizza, we wanted to invite you to our fami--¡±


    ¡°Delete that one too,¡± I said while pulling on a fresh-ish pair of pants. ¡°Stop replay.¡± So, thirty-odd messages and it hadn¡¯t been more than two hours or so. Either they knew something I didn¡¯t, or as many corps as possible wanted to stake a claim before their competitor¡¯s could. I could recall pictures of some Awakened with logos on their gear, was it all just a sort of sponsorship thing? And what if I started fighting in an arena or something, would they pay me more if I was wearing something with a Slice and Slice logo on it?


    Probably. Most corps weren¡¯t exactly moral at the best of times.


    I was just slipping on my shoes when there was a knock at my door.


    ¡°Home, who is it?¡± If it was another corp rep I was going to not-so-politely tell them to piss off.


    ¡°You have... five... armed guests waiting for your permission to enter.¡±


    I froze mid-step. ¡°Armed? Home any affiliation markers? Tags, badges, something?¡± That couldn¡¯t be from the fight in the alley. At worse they¡¯d send a detective to ask questions. My mind went to some pretty dark places after that. Kidnappers, terrorists, mobsters who would insist on staking a claim on the newest Awakened?


    The knock came again.


    ¡°IFF reads five markers for the NAAA.¡±


    Shit, it was worse than what I¡¯d feared; the government. ¡°Home: hard lock the door.¡±


    A hard lock would, in theory, stop them from being able to hack through the door. At least, that¡¯s what I was telling myself a half-second before the door was slammed open with enough force that the handle embedded itself into the wall.


    Three men in SWAT uniforms with bullpup rifles in hand ran into the room, two of them immediately turning their guns to point at me. ¡°Richard Reid!¡± One of them screamed through the distortion of a mask. ¡°You¡¯re coming with us.¡±

 Boot-Up 1.3

    White walls, what was probably a two-way mirror, a stainless steel table with a pair of uncomfortable chairs. That and my imagination was all that I had to entertain myself for the past hour. It didn¡¯t help that I was still sore all over from my little tussle that morning. My lower back twinged every time I moved and I was still sniffling past the pain in my nose.


    I tilted back on my chair and placed my legs across the other seat which I¡¯d dragged to my end of the table to act as a footstool. Twisting around to face to window I squinted at it. ¡°Hey, I could use some water in here,¡± I shouted. ¡°Assholes.¡±


    One of the few things I could have done, I supposed, was play with my new powers. Unfortunately I was about a hundred percent sure that I was being filmed, so I opted to stick a pinkie finger in my nose while staring back at my own reflection.


    That didn¡¯t mean that I wasn¡¯t doing something constructive. Classes came with stats, and while I wasn¡¯t sure exactly how stats affected me, I didn¡¯t think that looking at them would do much.


    Just as soon as I figured out how.


    Turning to stare at the tiled ceiling I tried to recall what I knew about stats and being able to see them. As far as I knew no one could see someone else¡¯s level or stats, only their Class. But you heard people talking about Awakened and their stats, so there had to be some way to tell what your stats were.


    ¡°Stats,¡± I whispered without moving my lips.


    Nothing.


    I frowned. Okay, so there went that particular hypothesis. I tried to think of the concept of statistics, of the idea that I now had some arbitrary numbers tied to my very soul.


    Nada.


    Huffing, I crossed my arms and chewed on my lip. Well, that was another bust. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, I just want to know my goddam level,¡± I muttered.


    Information, raw and yet simple, trickled into my mind. I had expected a transparent Star Trek rip-off screen, or something to appear before me, but there was nothing visual about it. I just knew my stats the same way I knew that a dog has four legs and a chicken has two.


    The stats that I¡¯d so often seen as something on a sheet didn¡¯t quite translate that way. I knew that my Charisma was nil (and isn¡¯t that just great news) and that my Dexterity was at one, but I also knew, a little bit, of what that actually meant.


    Sitting a little straighter, I started to run through the list one stat at a time.


    Charisma - None


    Dexterity - Uno


    Endurance - Two


    Intelligence - One, fuck I¡¯m clever


    Luck - Shit outta luck


    Sanity - One


    Strength - Two


    Wisdom - Zilch


    I stared at the ceiling for a bit. That was all well and good, but it didn¡¯t mean much. What was a Strength two, exactly? Could I bench press a car yet? Discreetly I ran a hand over a bicep and felt at the muscle there. Not exactly impressive.


    ¡°Good afternoon.¡±


    I jumped, almost tumbling out of my seat as a voice spoke from just inside the room. Twisting around to glare at the interloper, I found myself facing a pretty 30-something woman in what was obviously a tailored suit.


    She was on the short side, though you could hardly tell from the way she stood, as though she should have towered above me even if she was only five foot and change tall. She was slim, too, the suit hugging slight curves without accentuating them. Reaching up, she adjusted a pair of wireframe glasses then pushed an unruly lock of dark hair out of her way.


    ¡°You are Richard Reid,¡± she stated.


    ¡°That¡¯s what that says,¡± I snarked back, pointing to the words floating above me.


    ¡°Indeed. Let me begin by telling you, Mr Reid, that we are not being recorded. Our privacy in this room is assured. Though whether or not that is a good thing will be for you to decide.¡±


    A strange statement to make, and not exactly one I¡¯d believe, but I nodded in acceptance. ¡°Oh, please, take a seat.¡± I said while gesturing magnanimously across the table. I shifted my feet on my purloined footstool, making myself comfortable.


    The woman look at the spot where her chair should have been and I noticed the barest quirk of her lips. ¡°I¡¯m a representative of the North Eastern Academy of Awakened Studies, Mr Reid.¡±


    ¡°Christ, that¡¯s an ugly name,¡± I muttered loud enough that she could hear. One of her eyebrows rose at that. ¡°It¡¯s not exactly Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, is it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to get the name changed for years,¡± she said. Then, much to my surprise, she waved her hand in an arcane gesture towards the ground. The room suddenly felt smaller, tighter before the air across from me began to shiver and distort. A wave of distortions washed out of the ground and when I blinked there was now a tall, straight-backed chair next to the woman.


    She pulled the seat back and sat down, dropping a file-folder I would have sworn she wasn¡¯t carrying on the table between us. ¡°I¡¯d usually avoid the theatrics, but I wouldn¡¯t want to deprive a... potential student of his comforts,¡± she said, as if magicking a chair from nothing were nothing special.


    Swallowing past a dry throat I gave her my best cocksure grin. ¡°No problem. I told you to make yourself comfortable. Though I was going to offer my lap, if you really needed somewhere to sit.¡±


    Looking less than impressed, the woman placed her elbows on the table, then fiddled with a ring over her left hand¡¯s middle finger. She dislodged the rather gaudy jewelry and placed it in one of her jacket¡¯s pockets. Shimmering out of nothingness, three words appeared over her head.


    Catherine Clark


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.Archwizard


    ¡°I am, as you may have surmised, Catherine Clark, Headmistress of what I like to call the Awakened Academy.¡± She game me a sharp, predatory smile. ¡°I figure if enough people call it that, we¡¯ll eventually have the political clout to change the damned name.¡±


    ¡°That, that¡¯s a good trick. Do what you want and ask for forgiveness after, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is a good trick, one I see you¡¯re quite familiar with.¡± She placed a finger over the closed file on the table. ¡°Your records are quite impressive. Passing grades, good ones even, though nearly every teacher you¡¯ve ever had suggests that you¡¯d be less of a waste of space if you used that sharp wit of yours less to poke at your betters and used it instead to actually do some wor--¡±


    ¡°So,¡± I said, cutting her off. ¡°Are you more of a Yoda, a Dumbledore, or a Gandalf? You know, with the whole being a teacher and archmage at the same time thing?¡±


    Catherine (though I supposed her official title was Professor Clark) licked her lips and looked up from the files on the table to stare at me dead in the eyes. ¡°Mr Reid, as I said earlier, we are not being recorded. In fact, there is no trace that you are in this building.¡± Before she spoke her next words I felt a stirring in the air, as if the room had suddenly grown a lot warmer. ¡°I could hurt you, Mr Reid. If you pose a threat to me and mine, or if you annoy me too much, or if I don¡¯t like the look of you, I might just do that. It¡¯s not easy being an Awakened in a position of power. I didn¡¯t get here without breaking a few eggs. I hope you understand what I mean and won¡¯t need a demonstration?¡±


    I¡¯ll be the first to admit that, on occasion, I let my mouth get ahead of me, that I¡¯ll speak out when I should stay quiet and that sometimes I poke people just for the giggles. Still, let it never be said that I don¡¯t have a keen sense of self-preservation. Right at that moment my sense of self-preservation was screaming at me to not fuck with the pretty Archwizard.


    I pulled my legs down from my footstool and sat a little straighter.


    ¡°Much better, Mr Reid.¡± She smiled slightly and the room¡¯s temperature returned to something less... threatening. ¡°Now, as I was going to say. There are three paths someone newly Awakened can take. You can renounce your status and try to live normally. You can find employment using your new skills, though that path involves certain governmental controls and restrictions. The second option is still quite viable, and even the... more esoteric Classes can usually make a very decent living.


    ¡°And finally there¡¯s the path I¡¯m here to talk to you about. Paladin is a combat Class, Mr Reid, which means you probably have a certain predisposition towards solving problems with... let¡¯s say a certain degree of violence. That is quite useful, as we have something of an Insanity problem right now.¡±


    I nodded along. The encroaching Insanity was a pretty big deal. You didn¡¯t hear too much about it on the news, but everyone kept muttering about how it was a bigger problem than the news made it out to be, even if no one was clear on what, exactly, it was. ¡°And you want me to go to your Academy?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Her voice didn¡¯t change from earlier, bit it still stung. ¡°Your attitude and predisposition towards misbehaving would make you a horrible soldier in what is, essentially, a war. In fact, I¡¯d still rather have you out on your ear than in my fine institution. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I have been given the results of certain, shall we call them predictions, that suggest you as a viable tool in the coming conflict.¡±


    ¡°Um, okay?¡±


    The professor sighed and leaned back into her seat. ¡°Every spring we run a training simulation with potential applicants to our Academy. Those that pass are greenlighted to lead or join in excursions against the Insanity. This means three years of study at our institution and includes some other advantages for those that pass and survive.¡±


    Survive? Whoa, whoa, that didn¡¯t sound terribly good.


    She continued before I could break into the flow of her conversation. ¡°Most students have spent the winter at the Academy going through preparatory classes. You could, in theory, wait until next year, learn more about your new abilities, and participate in next year¡¯s simulation. But I have an offer to make you, one that I¡¯d rather not make at all. Mr Reid, you are going to participate in this year¡¯s simulation.¡±


    There was a long pause, the professor looking at me patiently while I shifted in my seat under her gaze. ¡°Uh, am I supposed to say something?¡±


    ¡°You are supposed to refuse or accept.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I wasn¡¯t aware I was being given options,¡± I said honestly.


    She shook her head. ¡°Only the illusion of choice, Mr Reid. I¡¯ll take your reluctance to answer as a yes.¡± She stood up, the chair catching fire and burning unnaturally fast behind her. I was left staring up at the tightly-knit woman, flames climbing up behind her like some sort of vision from hell. ¡°The Academy is situated near Lake Ontario, an hour¡¯s drive from Toronto and six hour¡¯s drive from here. You will be sent home and picked up tomorrow at oh-six hundred hours.¡±


    ¡°Uh.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and if you¡¯re curious, the test begins in...¡± She reached into a pocket and removed a phone to glance at its screen. ¡°In sixteen hours. I hope that we won¡¯t be seeing each other again until you either pass or fail. Good luck, Mr Reid.¡±


    With almost military precision, she spun on a heel and walked towards the door, only pausing just before reaching it. ¡°To answer your previous question, Mr Reid, about what kind of wizard I am, I¡¯m more of an Odin.¡±

 Boot Up 1.4

    Boot Up 1.4


    I couldn¡¯t sleep.


    It was five something in the morning and I was still up and pacing across my room. I didn¡¯t have far to go between my bed and the wall; there wasn¡¯t much you could afford apartment-wise on the budget of a student.


    My hands clenching and unclenching by my side, I gave up on my pacing and dropped back-first onto my bed.


    The problem, of course, was what Professor Clark had said: join my academy, or else.


    Oh, she didn¡¯t use so many words, but the intent was pretty damned clear. If I was some wide-eyed, bushy-tailed sheep then I would probably have jumped on the opportunity. Heck, I was almost excited about it right now and that was the problem.


    I did and didn¡¯t want to go. My entire life was about doing my own thing and telling anyone that didn¡¯t like it to shove off. Now I felt like the kid that got the golden wrapper. Yeah, sure, I¡¯d get to visit the chocolate factory, but I was only going to see the inside of Willy Wonka''s bedroom before he did kinky things to me.


    Blinking a few times I ran over my own analogy and snorted. ¡°You¡¯re losing your mind, Richard,¡± I muttered.


    See, if you¡¯d asked me a year ago what it meant to be one of the Awakened, then I would have said that it was the mark of someone who was beyond normal. It was to be set aside from those around you, to be someone that had escaped mediocrity. You saw them on the news, standing tall and proud and kicking ass. Oh, sure, most of those you saw worked for one corp or another but they were treated like royalty, like a precious commodity. People bent over backwards to accommodate the Awakened. The best cars, the prettiest girls, the newest tech and clothes and weapons.


    Then you had the government sponsored Awakened. They were no less famous, but more... militarized, a little less free for all that they could get away with more.


    Had I had time to plan, to expect that I¡¯d Awaken myself... well, I¡¯d be halfway to South America by now, or maybe to the Nation of New California or one of the corporate city-states. I didn¡¯t want to be a government sponsored dog.


    On the other hand, places like the Academy were idolized. There weren¡¯t many schools entirely dedicated to training Awakened, and most were heavily militarized. If I graduated then it¡¯d be easy to find work doing... whatever I felt like doing. Hell, I could spend the rest of my life endorsing granny panties and I¡¯d still make ten times the cash a salary-man could.


    That little piece of me, the one that had never really grown up, was excited as hell. I¡¯d get to explore a world that most people only dreamed of participating in.


    On the other-other hand, the older, slightly wiser me, knew that it wasn¡¯t all sunshine and rainbows. In fact, it smelled of corruption and polished bullshit. I was no tin-foil-hat wearing bastard, but I knew enough to see that the news wasn¡¯t telling us everything. That the Insanity, or what little we were told about it, was far worse than it seemed at first glance.


    I could still remember when I was a brat and the first city was walled off. Before that it had been little townships, or rougher areas in big cities that had gone Insane. Then it was some smaller city in Texas, another in California, then one of the Hawaiian islands. Bits of northern Quebec went dark, and some of the communities in the NorthEastern Territories and New Brunswick.


    It was one after another and it felt as though the fixed smiles of the newscasters were straining. So the Awakened stepped in, the only ones unaffected by whatever the Insanity actually was. Every few months now you¡¯d hear of a skirmish somewhere out in the boonies, or some footage of warped animals would show up online only to be removed a few hours later by a government Netrunner.


    It wasn¡¯t to say that the world had gone to shit, but there was this definite impression of approaching disaster, as if we were all one good fuck-up away from going full Mad Max.


    Did I want to be one of those charged with fighting? No, not really. I was able to admit my own faults to myself and knew that I was far, far too selfish to go out and risk my body and sanity and time for the sake of others with only glory as a reward. Did I want to be one of the Awakened? Yeah, obviously, but now that I was it turned out that it wasn¡¯t as easy as I would have wanted it to be.


    Someone knocked at my door, pulling me out of my reverie. I glanced at my alarm to see that it was still only five in the morning. Rubbing at sore eyes, I walked out of my room and into the dining-room/living-room/kitchen/entrance of my shitty home. I almost stumbled over a pyramid of soda bottles that I¡¯d been building next to the stack of milk crates that served as my table before I reached the door.


    I would have looked through the peephole, but it has long ago gotten clogged with gum from some passing asshole and, honestly, at this point I was too angry, tired and annoyed to care who was on the other side.


    With an aggressive swing, I opened the door and looked the person standing there. He was young-ish, maybe a year or two my junior, with an ¡®I¡¯m a good boy¡¯ proper haircut and a sweater-vest over pleated khakis. ¡°You don¡¯t look like the prostitute I ordered,¡± I said.


    He blinked at me once from behind his square-rimmed glasses. Glasses, in this day and age? No wait, there was a glint of something in the glass. An interface of some sort? ¡°Professor Clark did mention that you had something of an attitude issue,¡± he said.


    I quirked an eyebrow, then looked up to the words above his head.


    Wyatt Smith


    Info-Broker


    ¡°Pretty sure I specified a woman,¡± I continued as if I couldn¡¯t hear him. ¡°As in, female, and over the age of eighteen. You look like neither of those things.¡± I gave him a saucy grin. ¡°Though I¡¯ve seen enough porn to never judge appearances. Are you some sort of reverse trap? You look girly enough.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°I did not think it would be this bad,¡± he muttered under his breath.


    ¡°Wow, keep whining like that and any doubts I have about your lack of masculinity will go straight out the window.¡± I took a step back and pointed over one shoulder with my thumb. ¡°Are you coming in or not? I can¡¯t get my mojo on with you out in the corridor. The landlords already things I¡¯m a punk after I fed some stray cats LSD mixed in milk. If they catches me humping a manwhore on the shag carpeting before six in the morning I might get kicked out.¡±


    There was a long, long pause as the kid processed what I¡¯d just said. ¡°It has been a few years since I have felt as if I needed an adult. Congratulations, despite the professor¡¯s dire warnings you¡¯ve successfully caught me off guard.¡±


    ¡°Stop menstruating on my doormat and get in.¡± I turned, ignoring him for a moment as I picked up the duffle bag I¡¯d left next to my table and tossed it onto my lay-z-boy (the single most expensive thing I owned). ¡°Make yourself at home. Also, touch anything and I¡¯ll murderize you.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± he said as if he understood. It was one of my little pleasures in life to terrorize and confuse people, especially if they were people that were annoying me. ¡°I am here, as you may have surmised, to escort you to the Academy. Professor Clark said that you would be a last minute addition to the trial that is taking place this morning.¡±


    ¡°Hrm, yeah, figured as much. And yeah, she told me that I had to take part in that test thingie.¡± I was a little distracted as I spoke, trying to figure out if I¡¯d forgotten anything. ¡°Where¡¯s the test at anyway?¡±


    ¡°It takes part in an undisclosed location. We will be teleporting there from the Academy grounds.¡±


    I shot him a wide-eyed look. ¡°Teleported? Shit, what kind of budget does the school have?¡±


    He shrugged in turn. ¡°I am not privy to the school¡¯s budget. Nonetheless, with two high-levelled mages on staff to do the actual teleporting, I doubt it costs overly much.¡±


    ¡°That makes an extraordinary amount of sense.¡± I walked by him, taking some pleasure in the horror write large in his eyes as he stared at the nearly-living creature that my dirty dishes had evolved into. Opening the little closet next to the entrance I pushed aside the jackets within, looking for just the right one.


    See, I have a bit of a thing about jackets. Some people it¡¯s shoes, some it¡¯s watches or jewelry, me, it¡¯s jackets. Jackets tell you all sorts of stuff about someone. Worn and threadbare denim jacket? Probably a working man. Well-pressed and tailored? A businessman who works out of the office. Me? Well, I collected jackets for every occasion.


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯ll do,¡± I muttered as I pulled out an army green coat. Long enough to reach mid-butt, but not enough to trip you up. Lots of pockets on the inside and outside. Neat lines that almost made it look like military while obviously not being one. Oh, and there was a patch sewn on the side that read ¡®fuck off.¡¯ Perfect for a first impression.


    ¡°So, you are the first Paladin we have met,¡± Wyatt said.


    ¡°That¡¯s nice. You¡¯re the first person I¡¯ve met who¡¯s so nerdy that it¡¯s literally written above their head,¡± I shot back as I slipped my coat on. I riffed through the pockets and found a flashlight, a few cash chips and a foil from a candy bar. Tossing my keys in the same pocket as the wrapper, I turned and surveyed what I was going to be bringing with me.


    My worn backpack filled with books and shit, my duffle bag with a few changes of clothes, and one jacket with odds and ends. Perfect. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s head out.¡±


    I caught him shaking his head in what I assumed was exasperation before he walked over to me. ¡°Your door¡¯s locked?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Uh, yeah?¡± I said, taken aback by the non-sequitur.


    ¡°Good,¡± he said as he pulled out a blocky cell phone from his pocket. It looked tough, like something military issue. With a few clicks, I saw him open a messenger app and type a message with one thumb. He didn¡¯t even look up as he reached out and grabbed me by the elbow. ¡°Two to port. Clench your jaw and close your eyes, it¡¯ll make it easier.¡±


    ¡°What are yo--¡±


    The world twisted into a kaleidoscope of bright flashing colours and seeping darkness. I went head over heels over ass over teakettle, then did a few more somersaults because yellow tasted more like tomatoes than sadness and that was just not cool.


    Everything snapped back in place with a jerk, like a car coming to a sudden stop because it ran into a wall.


    I stumbled backwards a step but Wyatt¡¯s hand on my elbow tightened and kept me on my feet. ¡°Careful. Take deep breaths,¡± he said.


    ¡°Also, try very hard not to remember anything you may or may not have seen while in the void between places,¡± another voice said, this one light, airy and female.


    ¡°Urg, why not?¡± I had to ask. I was still busy blinking down at the grass underfoot. Holy shit I¡¯d been teleported. Goddamn that was unpleasant.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°You know what they say about the abyss staring back? Just rumours, probably, but it¡¯s best to be safe.¡±


    I snorted and stood a little straighter. ¡°I take it you¡¯re the one responsible for that rollercoaster?¡±


    ¡°Indeed!¡± she said. She, being a slim woman wearing layered white robes with a sharp blue trim. It looked like something a high level mage would wear in an MMO. The dark, wooden staff she held pressed against her chest just added to the picture. ¡°I¡¯m Professor Brown, the magical studies teacher.¡±


    With a glance above her head I took in her name.


    Tabitha Brown


    Conjurer


    I was just, just about to make a snarky reply about her dress, or maybe something about her job, when my eyes were drawn down by another pair of floating words.


    Boopsy


    Cyberwolf


    Boopsy, as the floating name indicated, was a wolf. I had been around dogs before. I even liked the little shits, what with their unconditional love and tendency to defecate on people¡¯s floors. I had never seen a wolf before, let alone a cyberwolf. I had, therefore, to make some assumptions.


    First, the ¡®cyber¡¯ in cyberwolf meant ¡®real fucking big¡¯. Like, chest high. Boopsy also had pretty glowing red eyes set in a furless face covered in little scars. His body was thick-barreled but I could see the bones of his ribs and spine, especially where they stuck out of his skin and ended in two-inch barbed spikes.


    ¡°Oh, are you afraid of dogs?¡± Tabitha asked as she raised a hand to pat Boopsy on the nose. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, but there¡¯s nothing to worry about. Boopsy wouldn¡¯t hurt a fly, unless I told him to... or they attacked me, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Uh, no, just... marvelling at how, tall and toothy he is. No worries.¡± I tried to grin at the mutt, but his eyes narrowed and his hackles rose, exposing the fact that what little fur he did have wasn¡¯t so much fur as needle-like spines. As we stared at each other we reached an understanding, I would not annoy, hurt, or otherwise fuck with Tabitha, and he, in turn, wouldn¡¯t make sweet, sweet cyberwolf love to my still-warm corpse.


    ¡°Brilliant! Perhaps you¡¯ll be joining my class? I¡¯ve heard that some Paladins use spells in and out of combat, or maybe you¡¯d just enjoy learning more about what we¡¯ve uncovered about magic so far?¡±


    ¡°Um, I¡¯ll give it some thought,¡± I said with a smile.


    She smiled back sweetly, still petting her wolf as though it were just an oversized puppy. With a few words of farewell exchanged with Wyatt, the Professor said something about preparations for the trial and walked off. Boopsy gave me one last warning glance and followed after.


    Finally, I had a moment to look around.


    We had teleported to a circle of manicured grass surrounded my little red-bricked paths and well-trimmed trees. Behind us was a dip in the landscape that allowed us to see a fair ways into a small town that must have grown next to the school. Off on the other side were what looked like dormitory buildings made of the same red brick at the pathways and, as I turned, I found what must have been the main school building.


    ¡°Holy Batman, Wyatt, who built this place? It looks like Xavier¡¯s School for Gifted Youngsters.¡±


    He looked at me, then at the large mansion just a few hundred feet away from us. ¡°First, I would like to point out that Batman and X-Men are DC and Marvel respectfully. I am trying very hard to be nice to you, but I do have limits. Second, while they share a similar architecture, and both were built in the same era, there are some large differences.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, like what? Your Professor Clark doesn¡¯t go around mind raping people in a wheelchair?¡±


    ¡°No. Professor Clark is far, far more terrifying than Professor X. Also, she is real, whereas the X-Men are not.¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Fair points. I guess this is the bit where we part ways?¡±


    ¡°Only if you would rather navigate this place on your own?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Meh, I could manage.¡±


    I caught him rolling his eyes. ¡°Just follow me. We will drop your things off, then I will escort you to one of the changing rooms where we can get you into something appropriate for the tests. Perhaps we can even have a civilised conversation on the way?¡±


    ¡°Lead the way,¡± I said, gesturing grandly for him to go on. ¡°Though I¡¯ve never been one for civilised conversation. I prefer the more barbaric sort. And what was that about my clothes?¡±


    Wyatt started to walk and I noticed that he was rather stiff even when walking. ¡°You¡¯re wearing pyjamas.¡±


    I looked down at myself and had to give it to him, I was, indeed, wearing ratty old pyjama bottoms and a threadbare Star Wars T-shirt with a raunchy slave Leia on it. Were I anyone else I might have blushed, but I was beyond caring about much of anything so I told myself that I¡¯d live and just jogged to catch up to my new nerdy friend. ¡°So, uncivilised conversation. Let me start: What¡¯s an Info-Broker, beyond the obvious, and is it hard to catch tail in this place?¡±


    He made a noise that told me that he wasn¡¯t going to answer my second question. ¡°An Information Broker is a Class that has skills and attributes that help in the acquiring of knowledge and information. It is pretty versatile, capable of using, or at least copying, some magical skills from other classes. My turn; What¡¯s your passive?¡±


    ¡°My Passive?¡±


    ¡°Professor Clark said that you were a fairly new Awakened. From that I assume you have not levelled into too many skills yet. But a passive is granted on Awakening. Everyone has one, and so far they have all been unique.¡±


    He led us around the main building as we spoke and into another little park area before he opened an access door with a swipe of his phone. The corridor we entered was pretty normal, with fluorescent lights and shitty linoleum flooring. I had half expected the place to be all brick and marble and gold trimming, it was nice to see something normal behind the facade.


    As to his last comment, it set me thinking. ¡°So, uh, newbie question, but how do I find out what my passive is, if, in a purely rhetorical situation, I was unaware of how to look?¡±


    Wyatt missed a step but caught himself before tripping over nothing. ¡°Oh my. You really are green.¡± He let out a huff of breath and missed the beautifully crafted glare I shot at him. ¡°Just close your eyes, open your mind, and focus. The same as when you search for your attribute information or level.¡±


    ¡°Right, right.¡± How had I looked at my attributes last time? All I remembered was swearing at the ceiling. With a shrug, I tried to do what he said, but my mind was a mess of ideas, not helped by my lack of sleep. With an ever-deepening frown, I gave up and tried what I knew worked. ¡°What¡¯s my goddamned passive, already!¡± I screamed.


    Wyatt jumped about a foot off the group, which made it entirely worth it to scream, then the information poured into my mind, proving once and for all, that being an ass was worth it.


    As long as thy Faith in thy own Truth is greater than the Faith of thy opponents, none shall stand in the path of thy Arm, and that of those with whom thee are Bonded


    ¡°What kind of fake-shakespearean bullshit is that?¡± I barked out. ¡°Christ, it¡¯s like someone vomited out ye-old-alphabet soup on the floor then tried to make sense of it.¡±


    Wyatt snorted, actually snorted. ¡°Yes, we-- I have made a study of passives. They can be rather vague at times. Also, quite often, useless except for in some very specific scenarios. Still, some Awakened have passives that can be extraordinarily powerful.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, like what?¡±


    ¡°If I give you a few examples, will you tell me what your passive is?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Are passives something that most people keep secret because it could come and bite them in the ass if everyone knows them?¡± I asked. Hey, I could be genre-savvy too. I¡¯d read a book once.


    He shook his head, then paused. ¡°Some do keep them secret, though not if it is a passive that helps people around them. Being that you are a Paladin, a Class that is associated with group actions, it might be best if yours was known.¡± We made it around a corridor and through a doorway that lead into a passage that was wider and had fancy paintings on the walls and a plush carpet running across the middle of the floor.


    ¡°Nah, screw group work, I¡¯m more of a lone wolf.¡±


    ¡°Hrm, do as you will. If you ever do want to reveal your passive then please send word my way. As I have said, I am compiling information about them,¡± he said. Wyatt nodded to a girl that started walking down the same corridor as us.


    I couldn¡¯t help but look at the name floating above her. Before today, I had seen maybe four Awakened total, and most of those from a distance. Now I had seen as many in less than a day and would probably be seeing a lot more.


    Eleanor Clark


    Chronomancer


    I stared at the name, and glanced at the girl long enough to know that she was cute. ¡°Hey!¡± I said with what I hopped was a charming smile.


    Her cute little button-nosed face twisted in disgust. With a flourish of her hair, she spun around me and walked off with a huff.


    There was a bit of quiet in the corridor. ¡°You haven¡¯t been here for more than an hour,¡± Wyatt said. ¡°And you have already made such good friends. I can tell that it will be so much fun babysitting you. By the way, do you know what the school¡¯s policy on bullying is?¡±


    I swallowed hard. ¡°No, no I don¡¯t know, but I guess you¡¯re about to tell me, huh?¡±


    ¡°There is none,¡± he said. Raising a hand before his chest, he curled it into a little ball then muttered something under his breath. Just as I was about to ask him what was up he stopped muttering and a flickering ball of fire appeared over his palm. Not the huge fireballs you saw in movies but a tiny flickering flame, no bigger than what you¡¯d get out of a Zippo. ¡°The teachers look the other way when there¡¯s bullying, unless it¡¯s many against one, because each and every student here can do stuff like this.¡± He closed his hand and the flame wafted away into smoke. ¡°Just some friendly advice,¡± he said.


    Duly noted. ¡°So, clothes?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he said with a smile as if he didn¡¯t just go Dumbledore on me. ¡°By the way, I could not help but notice that you did not bring a weapon with you. Did you plan on signing out a school weapon?¡±


    I took a deep breath to make sure my lungs still worked. That had hurt less than I would have expected it to. ¡°Weapon? Why would I need a weapon already?¡±


    Wyatt sighed. ¡°You know, there is one advantage to your attitude. I will not miss you when you die.¡±


    ¡°Die? What?¡± But Wyatt was already walking ahead of me. ¡°Wait, nerd, I mean Wyatt, what do you mean by die, exactly?¡±

 Boot-Up 1.5

    Boot Up 1.5


    ¡°Try this one,¡± Wyatt said as he handed me a sword hilt-first.


    We were in one of the school¡¯s armouries. Yes, that was a plural, as in there was more than one. A few minutes ago, Wyatt had requisitioned some clothes for me from a tried looking student in a small building near the dormitories, then he¡¯d led me here, to what was perhaps the least guarded armoury ever.


    Racks of pole arms, swords, shields and other sharp, pointed or blunt things lined the walls each tied in place by a steel cable with a little tag on it. Wyatt had to touch the tags with his phone to undo the cables holding the weapons. It was actually pretty clever, though someone sufficiently determined and armed with a crowbar could probably take whatever they wanted.


    ¡°And what¡¯s this thing?¡± I said as I picked the sword up. It was short, with a straight blade that was maybe two feet long and sharpened only on one side. The handle was just long enough that I could fit both hands on it, but it was obviously too short to be used that way.


    ¡°That is a backsword, a slash and stab sword made popular during the 16th and 17th century as a sidearm. Honestly, I¡¯d rather give you something easy to use, like a spear, but the test will probably take place in tighter quarters.¡±


    ¡°Right, right,¡± I said while hefting the sword. I would have preferred something a little more knight-y. Actually, what I would have prefered was not having to participate in any test where I would need a sword to defend myself. Or maybe a gun. A big gun.


    ¡°Check to see if its enhancements work for you,¡± he said, nodding to the weapon in my hand. I blinked down at it, then at him. It must have been enough because he sighed. ¡°Just focus on the sword really hard.¡±


    I stared at it, then stared harder, my brows bunching up.


    Novice¡¯s Steel Backsword: Aid the user¡¯s ability to wield this arm with speed and efficiency.


    ¡°Uh, it¡¯s that pseudo-Shakespeare again,¡± I said. ¡°Something about speed and efficiency?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°It is a backsword made by one of the smiths that studies here. They tend to make a lot of novice level chaff. It is why the school does not mind lending them out for free as long as you register the weapon out in your name, or in your case as a guest.¡± He waved his phone at me.


    So, a Awakened-made weapon. I didn¡¯t know how much a normal sword would cost; it wasn¡¯t exactly the kind of information that was pertinent to my everyday life, but I was willing to bet that this thing cost ten times as much.


    ¡°You said backsword, right, not blacksword? Because that would be so racist.¡±


    ¡°I... you know what, no comment,¡± he said. ¡°Honestly, I do not know why I¡¯m helping you. In all likelihood you will just go off and die.¡±


    ¡°You say the sweetest things. After being my friend for all this time, is that all the faith you¡¯ve got in me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve known you for less than four hours and they were some of the most frustrating in my life,¡± he said, watching as I swung the sword around, then gave a few experimental jabs. ¡°I should probably give you a shield, a really big one.¡±


    ¡°To block enemy attacks?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No, so that people have an inch of steel between their line of sight and your face.¡±


    I paused mid-swing and almost lost my balance as I turned to him. ¡°Wyatt, was that a joke? My god, you¡¯re actually human! And here I thought you were a cyborg with a titanium rod up your ass. Turns out you¡¯re just a brat with a titanium rod up your ass.¡±


    He pinched the bridge of his nose, then walked deeper into the armoury, towards a wall of shields. ¡°You¡¯re such an idiot,¡± he muttered. ¡°You have a weapon, though whether or not you will stab yourself with it is questionable, now onto the shield. Any preferences here?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Uh, no?¡± I said as I scanned up and down the cement wall covered in bits of shaped wood, leather and steel. I was so, so far out of my depth. ¡°So, what can I expect from this test? Other than to die a horrible death?¡±


    ¡°I cannot tell you that, at least not the details. Suffice to say that it is an expedition that involves some degree of combat, though if you are wise you might avoid most of the dangerous activities. Surviving is only a small part of the grade, the rest relies on how well you communicate with other students and how you tackle the given objectives. I think a kiteshield would be a little too large. Try this,¡± he said as he reached up and unhooked a metal disk that was maybe a foot across and handed it to me.


    I weighted next to nothing in my hand and I thought it might have been made of plastic or something until I really felt the metal with my thumb. There were straps on the back, probably meant to grab onto my arm. I instantly tried to focus really hard on it.


    Novice¡¯s Steel Buckler: Weight little to the user until the blow must be made or deflected.


    ¡°Weight little to the user until the blow is made? So it¡¯s light until I try to hit someone with it or it gets hit?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Pretty much,¡± he confirmed. ¡°It¡¯s a fairly popular enhancement to make on a shield, especially if you need to carry it around. I¡¯m assuming you know how to calculate force and how important mass is to that equation?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said. ¡°Let me guess, this thing actually weighs a ton or something?¡± I flipped the little buckler up and caught it again by its rim. It was about an inch thick, and looked to be made entirely of steel yet weighed as much as something made of hollow plastic.


    ¡°Not that much, but I have seen smiths place lead weights inside those before.¡±


    ¡°Coolio,¡± I said as I tried it on. ¡°So, is there a changing room around here? Or should I go off and fight like this?¡± I pointed at my t-shirt with a thumb. ¡°You know, that might not be the worst idea. It¡¯ll bedazzle and confuse the enemy into thinking I¡¯m not someone worth fighting.¡±


    Wyatt shook his head, but I didn¡¯t miss the hint of a smile touching his lips. Damn, I¡¯d have to be careful of I might actually make the little gizzard like me. ¡°Come on,¡± he said as he began walking out of the room. He had grabbed something while I wasn¡¯t paying attention, a belt with a sheath on it that he tucked under his arm.


    I grabbed the pile of clothes he¡¯d found for me on the way out then jogged to catch up to him.


    The inside of the Academy was something of a maze. It probably helped that the place looked like someone had vomited interior decoration crap all over. Every corridor could have been filled with people in tuxes and dresses and nothing would have looked out of the ordinary.


    I followed Wyatt until he stopped before a simple wooden door and crooked his thumb at it. ¡°Bathroom,¡± he explained.


    I looked at the unmarked door then back at him. ¡°Does this place not have, you know, signs? Or wheelchair accessibility? You know, handicap accessibility is one of my triggers.¡±


    ¡°We have people here who can literally regrow most of your limbs in a few hours,¡± he said. ¡°And yet even they would not be able to fix your sense of humour.¡±


    I snorted as I walked into the bathroom. ¡°Damn. Did you read a book on how to be so witty? Or is it one of your Info-Broker Skills?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be out here,¡± he said before turning to lean against a wall with his phone in hand.


    Shutting the door I dropped my backpack, then the sword and buckler to the tiled floor. The pile of clothes I tossed next to the sink. Leaning against the counter I pressed my forehead against the mirror and took a deep breath.


    I refused, categorically, to be an angsty little shit. I wasn¡¯t going to whine and complain about how life sucked. It didn¡¯t mean that I had to like what was going on. For all that Wyatt was pretty cool for a nerd, it was also clear that he didn¡¯t have high hopes for me passing whatever the test was. And what would happen if I failed? I doubted that there was a real risk of dying, as he¡¯d said, they had healer classes so there was no reason for that, also, this was North America, any school with an actual casualty rate would be closed down by a mob of angry soccer moms before the day was out. But what if I failed? Hell, it was likely that I would fail.


    I pushed back upright and started undressing. So, if I failed this mess of a test, then what? That Clark bitch probably expected it of me, and fool that I was I hadn¡¯t run when I had the chance. Now I was on her side of the court, in her place of power. If she decided to fuck with me there was little I could do.


    But then, why? I started to slip on the pants I¡¯d been given only to see that they were too big. Deciding that I could fuck with Wyatt a bit if I walked out with drooping pants, I yanked them up anyway, only for them to suddenly shrink to size.


    I froze, feeling the pants constrict a little around my legs before loosening until they fit just right. ¡°Okay, that was weird,¡± I muttered. Focusing a little on the pants I did the same mental exercise I¡¯d done on the sword and shield.


    Academy Combat Uniform: Fits upon the bearer.


    Simple enough. I began to put the button-up shirt on next only for it to do the same thing. Clothes that always fit? Damn, add self-cleaning to that and maybe something to make sure it was always in style and it¡¯d be worth its weight in gold.


    So, back to thinking; why would she mess with me? What was I, a level one Paladin, worth to someone like Professor Clark? There were a lot of things I didn¡¯t know and that was dangerous as hell.


    So, the plan was fairly simple then, survive the test, learn what shit was going down, screw with it until people learned to just leave me alone.


    I pulled my jacket on and then stared at myself in the mirror.


    The Academy combat uniform was alright. Pants with thicker fabric over the knees and a shirt with padding over the elbows. It all felt tough, like clothes made for blue-collar workers. It Looked pretty snazzy too, with crisp, almost military lines, and a nice burgundy-brown colour.


    I tossed my jacked on and pulled at it until the fit was just right. Hell, it even matched the uniform fairly well. I wouldn¡¯t need to find another jacket for a bit.


    Someone knocked at the door and it opened a crack. ¡°I forgot to give you this,¡± Wyatt said as he dropped the belt and sheath he¡¯d grabbed earlier.


    I picked it up and with a shrug slipped the belt on with only minimal swearing. There was a little combat knife and sheath built into the left side of the belt opposite where my new cheap sword would sit. It wasn¡¯t enchanted or anything, but it was still a good six inches of sharp and pointy metal.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said as I slipped out of the room, my pj¡¯s tucked under my arm. ¡°Let¡¯s go murder some stuff.¡±


    Wyatt made a noncommittal grunt. ¡°Actually, I have more important things to do,¡± he said, waving his phone as if that explained anything. ¡°The transports for the test leave in half an hour. Just go down that corridor and take the first exit. You know what a truck looks like?¡± he asked. I shot him a dirty look. ¡°Then you will not need my assistance. Good luck, if you survive maybe... maybe we can avoid each other forever.¡±


    ¡°Love you too, bro,¡± I said as I gave him a slap on the back. ¡°I¡¯ll see you around.¡±


    Still with my dirty PJs tucked under my arm, I followed Wyatt¡¯s directions, looking around me all along. I didn¡¯t have the faintest clue what the budget for this place was, but ¡®lots¡¯ was probably a safe bet.


    I had just turned around a corner and spotted a line of vans parked outside through an open doorway then a hand touched my shoulder. ¡°Mr Reid.¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I winced because that was a voice I recognized. ¡°Miss Clark.¡±


    She had snuck up on me. Well, her and what looked like two bodyguards in black suits with mirror-shades on. Surprisingly, neither were Awakened. Not so surprisingly, I could see bulges in the folds of their jackets. ¡°I haven¡¯t been a Miss in a long time,¡± the Archwizard said.


    ¡°And I never cared, so I have precedent.¡±


    One of her eyebrows arched and she looked me up and down. ¡°Our uniform suits you. You¡¯re lucky that we allow a certain amount of... leeway when it comes to the dress code.¡±


    ¡°You mean my jacket? Yeah, I¡¯d¡¯ve worn it anyway.¡±


    She sighed and shook her head. ¡°I expect great things out of you, Mr Reid.¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡± I asked. ¡°And what, exactly, lead you to thinking that? I don¡¯t recall doing anything that would get you to pin any ¡®great things¡¯ on me. So, Miss Clark, what the hell do you expect from me, because from where I¡¯m standing there¡¯s something really screwy going on.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ll tell you later today, once you¡¯ve passed your test. Either way, good luck, Mr Reid.¡± She started to walk away but I reached out and touched her shoulder. She looked at my hand with the sort of expression you¡¯d see on someone¡¯s face if you dropped a dirty tampon on their dinner plate. ¡°Mr Reid, things are not nearly as simple as they seem, but some things are not complicated. I would rather you not touch me so casually.¡±


    I snapped my hand back as though it was burned. ¡°Right, well I guess I¡¯ll be seeing you later, prof. Oh, and here, hold this,¡± I said as I pushed my dirty pyjamas into her arms. With a quick step I walked around her and jogged out of the building before she had time to react.


    The courtyard next to the school was, in all probability, where shipments of food and whatnot were brought it. It wasn¡¯t decorated or manicured like the rest of the main building and instead looked like something that would fit into your average industrial park.


    Seven vans were parked in single file, each one a dull grey with the NAAA¡¯s sword and shield logo painted on the sides above a serial code. Beyond them were a few armoured SUVs with gun turrets pointed to the sky. I would have gawked at the vehicles a bit more but I was distracted by all the men and women in fatigues running around.


    These weren¡¯t the forest-camo of the army, but rather the grey-on-grey of NAAA troopers. Groups of them were milling around the vans, apparently setting things up. One of them stood out as he stood with two secretary-looking bastards around him. He was a brick wall of a man with a sharp jacket with some rank insignia on the shoulders. He was talking to someone but turned and caught my eye for a moment. With a gesture of his head he sent one of his lackeys my way.


    The young man, who couldn¡¯t have been more than a year or two my senior, jogged over to me, a tablet computer clutched against his chest. ¡°Hello, are you one of the participants for the test?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Yup, that¡¯s me,¡± I said.


    ¡°Great,¡± he replied before doing something on his tablet. ¡°Name and Class?¡±


    There was a long pause until he finally looked away from his screen to see me giving him a deadpan look and pointing up.


    He had the curtsy to blush as he looked at the words floating above my head. ¡°Oh, right. Richard Reid, Paladin Uh, you''re in van four, sir.¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    Be blinked at me owlishly. ¡°Uhm, trainee Awakened are assigned the NATO rank of specialist upon entering an academy.¡±


    ¡°Oh shit, that means I can give orders to people?¡± I said. Something about my grin must have warned the man because there was a glimmer of fear in his eyes.


    ¡°Not quite? It¡¯s only in situations such as in an Insanity zone or during a crisis, or if contact is lost with the high-ups, but specialist isn¡¯t an NCO rank. It¡¯s mostly for show. And not all private or corporate militias will care.¡±


    ¡°Well, that sucks all sorts of balls. So, you said van four? Which one¡¯s that?¡±


    He looked at me, then at the van which had, I now noticed, large cardboard signs sitting next to them with the numbers 1-7 on them. ¡°It¡¯s the fourth one, sir,¡± he said.


    I nodded at him, straightened the awkward weight of the sword around my hip, then made my way over to the van only to stop. ¡°Hey, how much time until we, uh, take off?¡±


    With a glance at his watch the soldier answered. ¡°Vans leave in twenty-five minutes, sir.¡±


    That was a killjoy. I didn¡¯t mind being a bit early, but that was a bit much. For a few seconds I contemplated sneaking off to explore, or maybe just getting aboard the wrong van on purpose, but I decided against it.


    The backdoor of the van was already opened, allowing me to peek inside before I climbed in. There were two rows of benches, one against either side of the van leading up to a wall that sat behind the cabin, blocking off any sight of the driver.


    Other than the uncomfortable seats there was only one thing of note; a young woman, maybe my age, sitting at the far end of the seat with her head ducked low so that her long red hair hid her face. She was wearing the same uniform as me only her chest was covered in armoured plating, there were steel greaves over her shins and she had pauldrons over each shoulder.


    While I watched, she was toying with what looked like a bracelet, her sleeve pushed up so that she could play with it.


    Abigail Campbell


    Fighter


    The moment I stepped foot into the van she jumped in her seat and pulled her sleeve down to cover her hand. She stared, a pair of wide, green eyes that took me in the same way a startled cat might look at you if you poked it awake.


    I nodded to her as I made my way into the bus and picked a seat on the row across from hers but closer to the door. ¡°Good morning!¡± I said.


    She mumbled something that might have been a reply and stared at the floor of the van as if she could decipher life¡¯s secrets from the scratches in the paint.


    Sitting down with a sword on was something of a pain, but I figured it out within losing my pants, which was nice. That left me with nothing to do but stare out the door to the front of the van behind or to the girl in the cabin with me. One was much cuter than the other. ¡°So, I¡¯ll be straight with you, I haven¡¯t met that many Awakened. Now, usually when I meet someone new, I do the whole ¡®what¡¯s your name? Mine¡¯s Richard, please call me Richard¡¯ thing. Your name is kinda right there, all floaty and shit, so that¡¯s like, ninety percent of my lines gone.¡±


    She looked at me, then back down. ¡°My name¡¯s Abigail,¡± she said, or whispered really.


    ¡°Why hello Abigail, my name¡¯s Richard. My enemies call me Mr Reid and my hobbies include talking until people dislike me and then talking my way out of trouble. So, what¡¯s a girl like you doing in a van like this?¡± I leaned back so that I could lean my feet against the row across from mine. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me they offered you candy?¡±


    There was a ghost of a smile that crossed her lips before she looked away. ¡°I¡¯m just here to fight, Mr Richard,¡± she said.


    ¡°Oh, the mister title already? Damn girl, you don¡¯t let a guy down easy do you?


    Her smile stayed but she still didn¡¯t make eye contact. Instead, the silence grew and festered until Abigail bent forwards and pulled a sack out from under her bench. After placing it on her lap and opening it, she started pulling out some gear from within. At first it was just a pair of wicked looking daggers, but then she pulled out a handgun and a few clips (magazines?) and placed them next to her.


    ¡°Whoa there. I know I¡¯m not the best conversationalist, but there¡¯s no need to shoot me, yet.¡±


    She looked at me then at the handgun in her hand. ¡°Oh, uh, it¡¯s for the test,¡± she explained before slipping the gun into a holster on her thigh. ¡°There¡¯s no limit to what kind of weapon you bring.¡± Abigail glanced up and to my sword. ¡°But, uh, some people prefer to stick to a theme, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Right, right,¡± I muttered. Suddenly, the sword didn¡¯t feel so cool. Or useful. What the hell kind of test was this? And why wasn¡¯t I given a gun?


    Abigail continued to inspect her gear, placing her knives in a pair of sheaths on her lower back, and a second handgun on her other thigh before she pulled out a bandoleer of magazines and wrapped it around her chest after inspecting each one.


    I was just building up the momentum to make another comment when the door opened up and a brown and pink blur raced into the van. ¡°Abi!¡± it screamed.


    Abigail and I both jumped, but she had it worse as a freckle-faced girl with short brown hair pinned her in a hug. ¡°Oh, Abi, we¡¯re in the same van! This is destiny, this is faith! We were meant to be together like the bestest of best friends.¡±


    Empathy isn¡¯t my forte, but while I sat there and stared at the creature rubbing herself on the Abigail girl and watched as she looked my way with horror in her eye, there was a small tinge in my heart. It didn¡¯t help that she was mouthing ¡®save me¡¯ whenever our eyes met.


    ¡°Hey, new girl, no hugs for me?¡± I asked.


    The girl gasped and spun around, finally giving me time to take her in.


    Miribel Greene


    Neuromancer


    Her age was hard to pin. She looked like she might have been in her early twenties, but there was so much mischief and... just plain happiness in every twitchy action she took that it probably threw off any estimate I made of her age. She had the same uniform as me, but with a short-sleeved bubblegum pink jacket that complimented her olive skin and thick armoured pant-things that covered her thighs all the way down to her feet.


    ¡°Hi! I¡¯m Miribel, but call me Miri.¡± She grabbed Abigail closer with a sideways hug. The red-headed fighter whimpered. ¡°This is my newest BFF Abi, and this,¡± she reached over her back pulled at a stock that was sticking over one shoulder. ¡°This is Sasha.¡± She presented her gun with all the flair and pride of a new mother gushing over her baby.


    To be fair, it was an impressive weapon, very boxy and... very neon pink.


    ¡°Uh, hey Miri. I¡¯m Richard. I¡¯ve already met Abigail, so I suppose... Sasha¡¯s the only one I have to introduce myself to now?¡±


    She giggled. ¡°Don¡¯t be silly. Sasha only speaks in buckshot,¡± Miribel said while petting her stocky rifle.


    ¡°Um, isn¡¯t buckshot for shotguns?¡±


    Miribel nodded seriously. ¡°Sasha is an Atchisson Assault Shotgun, or an AA12. She can fire 300 rounds of 12-gauge ammo a minute, but only has eight rounds in her--¡± Miribel paused, a look of horror crossing her face. ¡°I forgot my ammo bag!¡± she screamed before rushing out of the van.


    Abigail and I locked eyes and I was the first to break the silence. ¡°So, she¡¯s your BFF?¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°Do you two like, paint each others nails? Compare guns? Have little threesomes?¡±


    She was blushing a little, but still managed to look confused. ¡°Th-threesomes?¡±


    ¡°Well, you can¡¯t make sweet sweet love to your BFF Miri without inviting Sasha along. Do you play ¡®hide the barrel¡¯ together?¡±


    Abigail buried her face in her hands. ¡°No,¡± she whined.


    The poor fighter was saved from any additional verbal sparring when the van¡¯s door opened up and two blond-haired tweens hoped in.


    The first was a wide-shouldered boy, his uniform shirt left unbuttoned under a thick cuirass to reveal the tank-top he wore underneath. He was just tall enough that finding a seat in the van was a little awkward for him, though it probably wasn¡¯t helped by the longsword and kiteshield he brought with him, or the surprising amount of plate armour he had strapped to his arms and legs. As he sat down across from me he reached up and adjusted his cowboy hat and gave me a friendly nod.


    William Young


    Knight


    So, a class that was somewhat similar to my own. I was genuinely curious to see what I could learn from the blonde-haired boy.


    After him came a girl that might have been his twin sister. She had a healthy parlour and grinned at me and Abigail as she found a seat across from the knight and right next to me. She tossed her hair back, revealing a long streak of bright green that ran along one bang.


    Harper Young


    Bandit


    ¡°It seems as though we will be sharing a ride for a bit,¡± the Knight, William said with an accent I couldn¡¯t quite place. ¡°Have you two introduced yourselves yet?¡±


    I shot him a cocksure grin. ¡°They left me in here alone with the poor girl, what else was I supposed to do? Though I¡¯ve got to admit I had some interesting ideas on how to pass the time, you¡¯re free to join in.¡±


    Abigail sputtered in her corner, but other than go a little red in the cheeks she didn¡¯t do much. The Bandit, Harper, leaned over to pat her on the knee.


    William just grinned back at me. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll start us off then. I¡¯m William, and the Bandit there¡¯s my sweet little sister Harper.¡±


    ¡°Stop calling me little. I¡¯m the older one,¡± Harper shot back. I noticed that she didn¡¯t seem to be armed, but the loose hoodie she wore cold have hidden just about anything smaller than Sasha. ¡°And I can introduce myself, you ass.¡±


    ¡°Wait a second,¡± I said. ¡°That accent, the hat. You¡¯re from Calgary?¡± When I got two nods I continued. ¡°Gods, that¡¯s like, Canada¡¯s Texas only with better healthcare and more inbreeding.¡±


    William shot me a look as though he couldn¡¯t decide if what I¡¯d said was funny or not, meanwhile his sister snorted in laughter. ¡°Aww shucks,¡± Harper started with a much, much thicker accent. ¡°Them¡¯s here cityboy found out that we is from the farm brother. What ought we to do ¡®bout it?¡±


    ¡°Oh god, you set her up.¡± William pointed at my chest. ¡°If she spouts off redneck slurs the entire drive I¡¯m blaming you,¡± he said, though he managed to make his voice light enough that it was clearly a joke.


    ¡°I can probably think of a way or two to keep her quiet,¡± I said. ¡°So, I¡¯m Richard, as you may have guessed, and the redhead in the corner that needs no introduction but will get one anyway is Abigail, or just Abi sometimes, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Either works¡± Abigail whispered.


    The van¡¯s door swung open, revealing an out of breath Miribel with her hair all askew and a bag clutched to her chest. ¡°I¡¯m back! Oh my gosh, new people!¡± With an ecstatic squee, Miribel hopped into the now-cramped van, her precious Sasha swaying around her hip to bang against every seat as she stomped her way to the far end to sit next to Abigail. ¡°Oh, this is so exciting! I¡¯m Miribel, this is Sasha, did you all greet each other already?¡±


    ¡°Damn girl, calm down, we¡¯ve got all day,¡± Harvey said. ¡°I¡¯m Harvey, the idiot in the hat is my little brother Will.¡±


    ¡°Pleased to meetcha!¡± Miribel said as she took Harvey¡¯s hand in her own and shook it. ¡°I like your hair, very shiny. And oh gosh, you¡¯re a Bandit!¡±


    I saw Harvey wince from the corner of my eye. For all that most Awakened were respected or even adored in some places, the more roguish classes had a reputation that was harder to live with. Who wanted to trust someone that literally had Thief written over their heads? It didn¡¯t help that some had gone on to become actual thieves and whatnot.


    ¡°That is so cool!¡± Miribel said. ¡°You¡¯re like, like a land pirate. Do you have an eyepatch?¡±


    And then Miribel shot my fears in the knees. Across from me William had to press a hand over his mouth to suppress a snort at his sister¡¯s confused look.


    Harvey replied, saying something about how she liked Maribel''s hair too, and her pink gun. William and I shared a look a minute later when the two girls delved into a babbling discussion about hair, guns, knives and other girly things. Even Abigail joined in when pressed, both girls cooing over her red hair.


    I sat back to wait, hoping that the can would take off soon.


    The door opened, and in came a face I recognized.


    Eleanor Clark


    Chronomancer


    Ah, shit.

 Boot Up 1.6

    Boot Up 1.6


    I would have expected the ride to be awkward, what with the Clark girl sitting right across from me. But, after a few quick introductions Eleanor just sat down, pulled out a tablet from her dufflebag and started reading.


    It was actually pretty quiet until a soldier popped his head in to tell us that we were taking off, then it was noisy as Miribel bounced on the spot like a hyperactive twelve year-old. ¡°Oh, this is going to be so much fun! We¡¯re going to explore, and see the sights, and shoot little zombie critters with Sasha, it¡¯ll be awesome!¡±


    William laughed while shaking his head. ¡°You know, the higher ups don¡¯t appreciate us calling the afflicted zombies,¡± he said.


    ¡°The eggheads can stuff it,¡± Harper said. ¡°The damned things look like something out of a b-rated horror flick.¡± She shivered dramatically. ¡°I¡¯m not one to avoid squicky things, but eww.¡±


    ¡°So, uh, is there going to be a briefing, or something?¡± I asked. By that point it was pretty clear that this wasn¡¯t going to be the kind of test that required an HB pencil.


    ¡°I thought I didn¡¯t recognize you from the briefing yesterday. I suppose you missed it.¡± William nodded as he spoke.


    That finally, finally got Eleanor to acknowledge me. ¡°You missed the briefing? Do you at least know what¡¯s going to happen?¡± she asked in a rather calm voice.


    ¡°Nope. I¡¯m kinda jumping in the deep end of the pool here, and I left my floaties at home. So, to keep this shitty metaphor going; any tips on how not to drown?¡±


    William, who at this point I¡¯d pegged as one of those guys that always wanted to help, nodded. ¡°The test is supposed to last all morning and into the afternoon. We don¡¯t have any close support, but there are two teams in their second year with us, though they¡¯re supposed to stay out of our way for the most part. The objective this time is to clear an abandoned area of any afflicted with Insanity and find the core. Once we¡¯ve found it we¡¯re supposed to break it.¡±


    ¡°And then we get all the shiny, shiny loot!¡± Miribel declared. Her entire body quivered at the mention of loot. ¡°Ohh, I hope it¡¯s something good. Mama Miri needs her some new boots.¡± She began waving her feet around to show off the heavy boots she was already wearing. I would have pegged them as some goth-girl¡¯s footwear were they not the same pink as Sasha.


    Ignoring the mad Neuromancer, I focused on William and shot him a few questions. ¡°So, by clear you mean we¡¯re going to arrive somewhere, get out, walk around and just¡­ what, kill stuff until noon?¡±


    ¡°Shit, when you put it that way we sound like freaks,¡± Harper said. ¡°Nah, we saw the map yesterday. It¡¯s a small habitation block with a population under a thousand. You know the sort. A one gas-station, one burger joint kind of thing. They evacuated days ago. Usually the place would be cleared by now but they saved it for the test. We¡¯re just going in to find any critters that went Insane and take them out of their misery.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t they just, I dunno, firebomb the whole place?¡± I asked.


    Eleanor across from me rolled her eyes and dipped her book down to stare at me. ¡°You seem pretty¡­ new at all this, so let me explain.¡° She coughed into a closed fist. I had the mental image of a teacher about to start lecturing. ¡°Usually, if it¡¯s a worse case scenario, then yes, the military or NAAA might bomb an IZ then send in a few Awakened to break the core. But in small cases like this one it¡¯s not worth the effort or the risk of collateral damages to go that far. Once the core is broken they¡¯ll send in normal troops to inspect the area. In a month or so the inhabitants can return as if nothing happened. If we wait too long though, the IZ might turn into a dungeon, and those are rather messy.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, dungeons will screw you up,¡± Miribel declared. ¡°I heard that you need a really good Sanity stat to manage in there.¡±


    ¡°It depends entirely on the size and depth of the dungeon, but yes, generally the higher your Sanity the better off you¡¯ll be,¡± Eleanor said. ¡°On that note, I suggest that we split up. There should be plenty of targets for all of us, and we should be able to find the core faster if we search individually.¡±


    ¡°Uh, but what if we get attacked by a lot of them?¡± Abigail asked. Her voice was low enough that I had a hard time hearing it, even within the confines of the van.


    William nodded. ¡°Harper and I are a team, we work together. I wouldn¡¯t mind having any of you along with us. There¡¯s strength in numbers after all.¡± He finished by giving us all a winning smile and tipping his hat back.


    I noticed Abigail blush and look back down and even Miribel seemed to smile wider. Oh great, the knight in shining armour was a casanova.


    ¡°Yeah, I like the idea of not dying, thank you very much. Does anyone have pictures of these critter things?¡±


    ¡°Critters is just a word used to describe afflicted animals,¡± Eleanor lectured at me. ¡°It¡¯s not an official name.¡±


    ¡°Does everybody use the word critter?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much,¡± Miribel said.


    ¡°Then it¡¯s official enough for me,¡± I declared.


    Eleanor rolled her eyes again, but she reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a phone. After a minute or two of fiddling with it she handed it to me. ¡°Here.¡±


    ¡°Ah, pictures!¡± I said. ¡°Hey, do you keep your critter pictures in the same folder as your nudes?¡±


    The girl looked at me with widening eyes, then she blushed and tried to grab her phone out of my hands. I hardly had time to take in the furry monstrocity before I pulled back to keep the phone away. At least I had the advantage of greater height. ¡°Oh god, that reaction. Does that mean yes?¡±


    ¡°I-I don¡¯t have nude images of myself on my phone, you pervert. Now give it back!¡±


    I raised one eyebrow and looked at my appreciative audience. ¡°Did you hear that, she said ¡®of myself.¡¯ Whose nudes do you have on here?¡±


    ¡°No one¡¯s!¡± she said before pouncing on me. I got a few whacks on the head from the spine of her hardcover book before a small hand tore the phone away from me. ¡°You¡¯re a jerk. My mother warned me about you.¡±


    Eleanor sat back down, straightened her skirt and glared. If glares could kill I would have been atomized by then. ¡°So, your mom tried to hook me up with you?¡± I said with a grin, then something I should have figure out earlier clicked. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re a Clark. Your mom¡¯s the headmistress?¡±


    ¡°My mother did not try to hook me up with you. Or anyone else in this vehicle.


    ¡°So,¡± Miribel asked. ¡°What¡¯s it like having an Archwizard as a mom? Oh, did she show you awesome top-secret magic when you were little? Did she use a spell to change your nappies?¡±


    Eleanor¡¯s face turned a startling shade of red and I found myself laughing with a fist before my mouth. The van rumbled a bit, cooling my mirth as, for just a moment, I thought that the witch across from me was about to do go full Exorcist on my ass. Instead, she glared at everyone in the van and crossed her arms over her chest. ¡°Can¡¯t we talk about anything else?¡±


    ¡°Ohh, let¡¯s talk about how awesome Sasha is!¡± Miribel said, lifting her gun to show it off as she did.


    ¡°That thing has a safety, right?¡± Harper asked. The barrel of the automatic shotgun hovered just a few inches away from her nose until she pushed it away with the tip of an extended finger.


    ¡°Sasha is plenty safe! There¡¯s safety in numbers, right? And Sasha can shoot lots and lots of bullets,¡± Miribel explained. She took a moment to bask in the horrified look that crossed Harper¡¯s face before breaking out into a fit of giggles. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, silly, she¡¯s not even loaded. See?¡± She did something with the bolt on the gun¡¯s side and showed it to Harper who immediately calmed down.


    I think the others were about to lay into her, except that the van started to shake and shiver as if it was caught in a sudden storm. My knuckles went white as I gripped the seat and tried to stay rooted on the spot.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Eleanor said. ¡°We¡¯re just going through a portal.¡±


    I clenched my eyes shut, remembering the last time I¡¯d teleported only a few hours ago, but just as it had started, the rumbling stopped and we were suddenly just riding along again as if we hadn¡¯t hit anything more complicated than a bump on the road.


    ¡°Huh, I thought that would be a little more... you know, vomit-inducing,¡± I said.


    ¡°Oh yeah,¡± Miribel piped in. ¡°I heard that if you keep your eyes open when you get into a portal you lose your mind!¡±


    Eleanor shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s not even slightly true. It¡¯s a rumour pushed by those anti-awakened idiots to make magic seem dangerous. Teleporting, especially the first few times can be disorienting, but that¡¯s the worst of it. Though I heard that the edges of portals can be dangerously sharp. Portals are far more convenient than most other forms of transportation available, including teleportation.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Then why teleport if portals are so much better?¡± I asked before pointing at the van around us. ¡°I mean, this thing is bigger than a person and we just got portaled over with no problem, right?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s an issue of logistics. Portals are more complex, have a much longer cast time, can require multiple casters, and the range is surprisingly small compared to teleporting which has no known range. On the other hand, a portal can be kept open for little cost and, as we¡¯ve just done, you can move much more mass.¡±


    ¡°Oohh! Could you teleport to the moon?¡± Miribel asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s a silly question.¡±


    Harper shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t see why. I¡¯m more of a smash and bash class so I¡¯m not all that informed on the intricacies of transportation spells.¡±


    Eleanor took that in, then nodded slowly while considering it. ¡°That¡¯s... a fair answer. Far be it for me to stop you from wanting to learn. I¡¯m sorry Miribel, I shouldn¡¯t have dismissed you. As for your question, you can only teleport to a location you have visited or one where a specially designed array or rune is placed. I suppose an Awakened astronaut could theoretically teleport themselves or someone else to the moon.¡¯


    ¡°That sounds like a great way to murder someone without leaving any traces!¡± Miribel declared.


    There was a beat of silence as we took that in, then Abigail chimed in with her quiet voice. ¡°I-I think there might be, um, more efficient ways then that.¡±


    Before we could continue what was one of the more bizarre conversations I¡¯d ever had, the van rumbled to a stop and idled on the spot. There was the sound of a door opening and boots crunching on gravel.


    ¡°We¡¯re at the drop off point, I guess,¡± William said. ¡°So, did you guys want to team up after all?¡±


    The door opened and a soldier in grey fatigues stood in the entrance. ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± he declared simply.


    There was some shuffling around as we all stepped out of the cramped van, the task made all the harder as the others tried to carry their bags and gear out. All I had was my dinky sword and shield.


    ¡°I suggest,¡± Eleanor said as she hopped out of the back and looked around. We were on a two lane road, the six vans parked along the side of a highway, just below a six-lane overpass that was eerily quiet. I couldn¡¯t see terribly far on account of the huge housing units standing all around us like off-white pillars. ¡°That we tackle this alone. We¡¯ll cover a lot more ground and one of us is bound to find the core. We could always just call out for help if we find ourselves in a bind.¡±


    William looked around with a shrewd eye,taking in the city as if he¡¯d never seen concrete before. I stood next to him and tried to see what he saw but other than piles of trash heaped up against the roadside and what looked like a hobo¡¯s cardboard house tucked against the pillars of the overpass, there wasn¡¯t much to see. Then again, I was a city boy and William struck me as more of an outdoors-y type. ¡°I¡¯m sticking with Harper,¡± he finally said.


    ¡°We could split into groups of two!¡± Miribel said as if this was some great party. ¡°Dibs on Abi!¡±


    The silent girl was the last out of the van and she almost stumbled as Miribel screamed her name. She looked up, wide eyed and looked at each of us in turn. She was begging with her eyes, asking that one of us take pity on her and get between her and Miribel.


    The poor girl. There was no way in hell that I was going to step between little miss-slasher-smile and her ¡®bff.¡¯


    ¡°I suppose that means I would have to work with you, Richard,¡± Eleanor said. She looked me up and down as if I was a piece of meat.


    ¡°Awful, right? I¡¯m not sure I can live up to expectations,¡± I said. ¡°And by expectations I mean people expecting me to not go full murder-suicide because of your nagging.¡±


    ¡°I do not nag,¡± she declared. Then, contrary to what any logical person would have done, she stepped a little closer to my side and looked away, her brows twisted into a disapproving frown.


    Taking a look around, I could see that the other vans had dropped off students too, though some looked to be a little older. The first and last vans had been filled with men in full tactical gear, all armed with assault rifles that they held tucked up against their heavy vests. They were the only bunch without words above their heads. Farther ahead, a pair of humvees parked themselves across the street to block off any traffic and I saw another pair doing the same behind us.


    There was one other group that stood out. Tabitha Brown, Boopsy and a thick set man with a handlebar mustache in a worn leather coat. They were too old to be students, and I already knew that Professor Brown was probably in charge of this shindig. The Conjurer was talking and petting her Direwolf while the man nodded along.


    Jean Trembley


    Coureur Des Bois


    Jean gave one last affirmative to the much smaller teacher then turned around and bellowed. ¡°Kids, come ¡®ere. We ¡®ave instructions for you!¡±


    ¡°Oh goddamn, that¡¯s the worse accent I¡¯ve ever heard,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°You should be more respectful,¡± Eleanor admonished. ¡°He¡¯s a teacher.¡±


    The other students started to make their way up to the pair of teachers and, after just a moment¡¯s hesitation, our little group did too. I noticed that most of the groups that were in vans were actually sticking together. I wondered if that was on purpose. Stick people in little cramped vehicles for an hour and force them to get to know each other, then see if any of them would stick together afterwards.


    ¡°What is he meant to teach? Shitty French accents? How to get stuffed with a baguette? Running away from your problems?¡±


    The diminutive girl hit me with the back of her hand then stopped right where she was. I took another few steps forwards before pausing. I really shouldn¡¯t have waited on her. The rest of the group moved on without comment as they were already listening to Miribel rant on about... something. Harper did wink at me as she walked by though. ¡°What is it?¡± I asked Eleanor.


    Eleanor took a deep breath, then seemed to pause to think things through. ¡°If, if we¡¯re going to work together, then I expect you to at least try to act like an adult. There are lots of people with lots of expectations riding on us. We have to work hard to prove that we can accomplish what we set out to do.¡±


    I blinked at her, then looked over my shoulder to where the others were gathering in a loose group around the teachers. ¡°Look, let me be straight with you. I don¡¯t give that much of a shit about the test. I¡¯d rather be in bed right now. I¡¯ll do what I can because fuck it, I¡¯m already here, but don¡¯t expect to push some agenda on me, alright?¡±


    Eleanor paused, then crossed her arms over her chest, her bag left on the ground, abandoned at her side. ¡°Fine. I understand. Now, we¡¯re late. We can discuss this more after we¡¯ve received the last of our instructions.¡± Picking up her bag, the girl walked by me then paused, waiting for me to catch up. ¡°And please, watch your language.¡±


    I stared at the back of her head for a moment. She might have noticed because she shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. I had to weight my options. On the one hand, I didn¡¯t want her or anyone else following me around, let alone giving me orders. On the other hand, I also didn¡¯t want to die and while I wasn¡¯t sure what a Chronomancer was it sounded like something you wouldn¡¯t want to fuck with in a dark alley.


    So, I¡¯d tuck away some of my massive ego for a bit and let the girl follow me around as long as she wasn¡¯t too annoying.


    ¡°Gather ¡®round everyone!¡± Professor Brown said while waving her arms around as if she was a host on one of those Sunday morning kiddie shows. If she said something about hugs and sharing I was going to poke fun at her, Boopsy be damned. ¡°I know most of you attended the briefing yesterday, but I just wanted to cover a few points before you head off.¡±


    The group hushed up and I took that time to see what the others around us were like. For the most part the classes were pretty straightforward. There was a Rogue, another Fighter, a Mage and one Asian kid was a Ninja. Heck, even most of the gear could have been found at a Renaissance fair, though there was a disproportionate number of students with handguns or rifles held next to swords and spears.


    Off to one side there was a group of what I assumed were second years. The uniform under their equipment was pretty much the same, only in a dark green instead of burgundy like the rest of us. That, and the gear they carried was more often than not covered in gold filigree and glowing runes.


    The soldiers lined up in parade formation behind the teachers really didn¡¯t fit in, though they seemed to be at ease and were for the most part listening to the teachers as they spoke.


    ¡°This settlement, Merrywood, is a two on the IS-scale. Expect small mammalian-type afflicted, warped zones and perhaps the occasional swarm. As long as you¡¯re all careful there shouldn¡¯t be anything above your skill level. Mister Tremblay, our huntmaster, will be handing out files to each of you in turn. If you¡¯re in a group you can take a file as a group. Each individual or group will be assigned to an area that you must explore and clear. Once you are done you are encouraged to begin seeking out the core or helping your fellow classmates. As I said, you can take a file as a group, though we¡¯ll limit group sizes to three at most.¡±


    There was a bit of grumbling at that, but it quieted down as the Coureur Des Bois started going around and handing out files, sometimes to an individual, sometimes to what looked like a group¡¯s representative. I noticed that Prof. Brown was paying attention to the groups and tapping something on a tablet that she¡¯d pulled out of nowhere.


    When he came closer, I felt Eleanor step up next to me. ¡°We¡¯re two,¡± she said with a confident ¡®I¡¯m a good girl¡¯ smile.


    ¡°¡®Ere you go. Be careful out there,¡± he said before handing Eleanor a file and walking on towards Harper and William.


    ¡°Can I see?¡± I asked, nudging a little closer to look at the manilla envelope. Others were already opening thiers and whispering to each other.


    She hesitated, but upon seeing that she wouldn¡¯t be the only one to open the file complied. Inside were three pages. One had rough statistics about the housing block and its environs, the next was a sort of objectives outline, and finally there was a map with grid lines running across it spread out so as to show all six floors of the unit.


    I swiped the third and looked at it carefully. From above it was clear that Harper had been right to call Merrywood a one-pub town. I only counted two elevators and two stairwells, some of them fairly close together on the map. There were maybe a hundred housing units per floor, with a few less on the ground floor to accommodate some small stores and access to a parking garage.


    ¡°We¡¯re supposed to look into area E-5,¡± Eleanor said while pushing up her glasses. ¡°There¡¯s a row of homes there. Low probability of danger. They¡¯ve triangulated the core¡¯s location to somewhere near points...¡± She paused to look at her sheet. ¡°E-7, E-8, D-7 or D-8. If our inspection is fast enough we might have time to go and have a look.¡±


    I found E-5 on the map and true enough the square covered a row of apartment with identical layouts on the third floor. It was fairly close to the stairs too, and if I had any clue where we were relative to all the rest I might even have been able to guess how long it would take to get there. ¡°So, is this part of the test too?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    I gestured at the map and she took it away from me and inspected it herself. ¡°The map reading, planning and whatnot. Is that part of the test?¡±


    She blinked a few time then made a humming sound. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have noticed it, but yeah. I¡¯ve heard my mom complain about some first years not knowing how to plan for anything. I just took it for granted that they were just... not good at planning. I suppose it¡¯s an important skill.¡±


    I was about to go on, but Prof. Brown gestured for everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°Everyone, these fine upperclassmen will be stationed near points D-1 and H-9 in case you need their assistance. They will also be acompagnies by a half-squadron of fine soldiers. Mr. Tremblay, Boopsy and I will be in the entrance hall on the ground floor. Asking for assistance will impact your grade on this test, but not necessarily in a negative way.¡±


    With a grand gesture, she turned and pointed off along the road. ¡°Now, on my mark, you may all take the main road leading that way--¡± she was interrupted by the other teacher who coughed into his fist and pointed in the opposite direction. Professor Brown gave the lot of us a sheepish smile then turned to point in the right direction. ¡°Your entrance test begins, now.¡±

 Boot-Up 1.7

    Boot Up 1.7


    The group that made its way down the main corridor of Merrywood would have been intimidating if it wasn¡¯t entirely made up of teens and young adults. The fact that a select few were basically cosplaying as wizards and warriors didn¡¯t add much to the scene.


    Most of them had flashlights in hand or strapped on their bodies to illuminate the way. One wizard-y type had a little ball of light floating next to him, but he was the odd one out.


    Fortunately, little groups began to split apart from the main body and soon I found myself alone save for Eleanor who walked by my side with her head on a swivel. There were other group nearby, but less and less of them as we reached the climbed higher and higher up one of the stairwells. Eleanor was trying to take everything in, from the grey walls covered in graffiti to the... well the other grey walls covered in graffiti.


    I was never terribly fond of huge mega buildings, especially not these smaller knock-off like Merrywood. One of them looked pretty much like all the rest, and I¡¯d been living in them my entire life. I could have probably navigated the place blindfolded by now. But to a girl like Eleanor, who didn¡¯t seem to have gone out much, it must have been rather intimidating.


    She didn¡¯t know that the crudely painted unicorn next to one door meant that there was a pimp nearby, or that the dragon painted in rainbow hues belonged to one of the more prominent asian gangs in the area.


    ¡°Are we there yet?¡± I asked.


    Eleanor sighed. ¡°We¡¯re somewhere around E-3. Just a few more minutes,¡± she said. ¡°Would you rather talk about something instead of asking me if we¡¯re there every minute or so?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, most conversations I actually enjoy are rather crass. I wouldn¡¯t want to offend your... delicate sensibilities and have you go crying to mommy about it.¡±


    She shuffled her shoulders so that her bag rose a little higher by her side. ¡°I¡¯m hardly a wallflower. I can take a little bit of... crass conversation.¡±


    I looked at her from the corner of one eye and slowly raised an eyebrow. ¡°Sure you can,¡± I said simply. There some undefinable joy that comes from making people uncomfortable, or just making them want to be anywhere but around you. I had Eleanor pegged as something of a sheltered girl and from what I¡¯d seen I wasn¡¯t too far off the mark. ¡°So, what the in nine hells is a Chronomancer?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s hardly crass.¡±


    ¡°-and how does a Chronomancer breed?¡±


    Eleanor shot me a dangerous look that only got worse when I started laughing. ¡°A Chronomancer, like all ¡®mancer¡¯ classes, is a specialist magical class. In this case, one that specializes in the manipulation of time.¡±


    ¡°I kinda figured on account of the ¡®chrono¡¯ part,¡± I said. ¡°But how far does it go? Can you time travel?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be silly, time travel is impossible,¡± she replied.


    ¡°Yesterday I was teleported halfway across a continent, this morning we drove a van through a portal that brought us to this ass end of nowhere. I¡¯m not sure how silly it is to presume that something is impossible anymore.¡±


    Pushing her glasses up her nose she took something of a lecturer¡¯s pose while keeping pace with me. ¡°While spatial and matter manipulation, as well as the manipulation of the four fundamental forces;  gravity, strong and weak radiation and electromagnetism, are all noted and researched side effects of the usage of so-called magical skills, there is little to no evidence that time itself can be altered. The effects of time-based spells can be explained much more simply as a series of highly detailed simulations of probable future events. These abilities are, in all likelyihood, merely a very advanced use of statistical calculations to extrapolate possible future events.¡±


    ¡°Christ, was that a quote from a textbook?¡± I noticed just a bit of reddening on her cheeks. ¡°Oh god, it was!¡± I couldn¡¯t suppress a bit of cackling which only had her reddening further. ¡°Okay, okay,¡± I said once I had myself under control. ¡°So, you read that timey-wimey stuff is a no-go. But does that mean that no one¡¯s done it yet, or is it just that whomever wrote that book things it can¡¯t be done?¡±


    ¡°The person that wrote that book was my mother,¡± she shot back testily. ¡°She¡¯s a well respected authority in the field of Awakened studies, as you can imagine.¡± Her eyes wandered down a little. ¡°One day, I hope to be half as successful as she is.¡±


    Oh, that was a landmine right there. Mommy issues weren¡¯t something I was going to poke at until the test was over. ¡°She seemed a little bossy to me,¡± I muttered. I¡¯m pretty sure she heard but didn¡¯t comment, instead she pointed off to my right.


    Turning, I found that there was a door just a little ways ahead of us. ¡°That¡¯s the corridor we¡¯re scouting.¡± Scuffed titles on the floor, dirty walls covered in off-white paint, steel doors every dozen meters. Looked about right.


    We slowed to a stop at the edge of the first doorway, just enough that a group of three other students had to go around us, not that there wasn¡¯t plenty of room to pass now that most of the other testees had already reached their part of the grid.


    I followed the group with my eyes for a few seconds, three girls with armour over their uniforms and assault rifles hanging from straps on their backs. A Gladiator, Electro-Fencer and a Soldier. It was like the start of a bad joke. The part that wasn¡¯t funny was just how fit the three were. My eyes wandered down until something pinched my bicep.


    ¡°Focus,¡± Eleanor said. I don¡¯t think she¡¯d really noticed that I was staring at the asses of the three girls, but she shot me a dirty look nonetheless. ¡°Do you know how to do a breach?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind breaching any one of those three, if that¡¯s what you mean,¡± I replied with a leer.


    She jabbed a finger into my gut, not hard enough that it would have hurt, but she managed to poke at a still-healing bruise. ¡°Get your little sword out, Richard. You¡¯re taking point.¡± With that, she bent over her duffle bag and rooted around within it. A moment later she was pulling out a handgun which she hooked into her belt, then she took out a long, thin leather sheath with a bit of wood poking out of it. With almost dramatic flair she tore a stick out from within.


    ¡°Wait, is that a wand?¡±


    Her knuckles went white around the stick. ¡°It¡¯s a valuable tool for casters.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a phallic symbol,¡± I shot back. ¡°You¡¯re holding a tiny wooden penis.¡±


    ¡°Is everything about sex with you?¡± She took one look at my shit-eating grin and grumbled. ¡°Just, just shut up and take out your sword!¡±


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯re asking so nicely, who am I to refuse? Just give me a second, then we can compare phallic symbols. I¡¯ll warn you now, mine¡¯s longer.¡± It was a little awkward to pull my borrowed backsword out of its sheath, but I had it in hand soon enough.


    There¡¯s something intrinsically¡­ manly, about holding a sword. I shifted its weight around until I had it in a comfortable one-handed grip, then I wiggled the arm where my shield hung to get it positioned just right. I didn¡¯t know any footwork and any forms I took were based off of video games and hollywood bullshitery, but I still felt safer with them than without. ¡°So, now what, princess?¡±


    ¡°Princess, really?¡± she shot back.


    ¡°Well, you mom¡¯s basically the queen bitch of the Academy, right?¡±


    ¡°Does that make me the princess bitch?¡± she replied in a deadpan.


    I grinned at her. ¡°You¡¯re the one that said it.¡± I only narrowly avoided getting rapped on the head by her wand.


    ¡°Alright, since only one of us seems to be able to act like a grown-up, I¡¯ll take charge. You just follow my lead.¡± With that, Eleanor loosened her handgun in its hip holster and shifted her fingers over her wand. ¡°We¡¯ll start with the this place. The map indicates that it¡¯s being used for storage instead of housing. It probably doesn¡¯t have as many nooks and crannies.¡±


    I took a second to really look at her as she walked towards the room. Now that she wasn¡¯t hiding behind a book or slapping me across the face, I finally noticed that for all her weird sort of reserved spunk she was actually pretty young, maybe seventeen or eighteen at most. Of all the people in our van earlier she was probably the youngest, but she still carried herself as if she knew what she was doing. Still naive as all hell though.


    ¡°So, how¡¯re we getting in there?¡± I asked. There was a standard door. Cheap steel, but there was a heavy padlock on it.


    Eleanor walked up to the door and tried the lock. ¡°When inspecting an Insanity zone like this one, any Awakened has special dispensation for things like breaking and entering and trespassing. It¡¯s actually pretty similar to a police officer arriving on an active crime scene, you don¡¯t need a warrant for every building.¡±


    ¡°We can just, bust the door in, then?¡± I asked.


    Looking around, it was pretty clear that even if we weren¡¯t allowed to just break in, it wasn¡¯t like there was anyone around to stop us. The entire housing block was obviously empty and the neighbourhood had been evacuated.


    ¡°Like I said, we can pretty much get away with total property destruction. In fact, in some cases it¡¯s best to burn a building down than to try and clear it. Safer for us that way. But I don¡¯t think this is the case here.¡± Having said that, she brought her wand around and pressed it against the padlock. After closing her eyes and muttering something under her breath, I saw a splotch of rust appearing on the lock, then the metal loop behind it. The rust grew until it covered the whole thing and the metal padlock started to be worn away. It was like watching a timelapse video of something dipped in acid.


    With a heavy clunk, the padlock fell to our feet and Eleanor relaxed. I stared at the lock, then looked around again. There was an eerie silence. No electric humming, no noise from people, and no distant music. It was the exact sort of ominous feeling you¡¯d expect to feel while looking at something supernatural. ¡°So, uh, coud you promise you won¡¯t rust my man bits off if I ever insult you too much?¡± I asked.


    With a dismissive shake of her head, Eleanor pushed the door open and levelled her wand at the entrance. The flashlight she had hooked over the lapel of her coat lit up the room.


    A plume of dust filtered out, tinged with the scent of mold and stale air.


    ¡°This is probably a bad time to mention it,¡± she began, ¡°but Chronomancers are a ranged Class. Do you want to go in first?¡±


    I hummed noncommittally. No, I didn¡¯t want to go in first. Still, I had a younger impressionable girl staring up at me and some stupid ape-minded part of my brain made my mouth move. ¡°Yeah. Got another light?¡±


    Eleanor backed up and towards her duffle bag. Her attention never really left the door while she searched through her back. She tossed a flashlight at me with an underhand throw and I flicked it on.


    I stepped into the barn, sword held parallel to the ground in what I hoped was a decent guard stance and eyes scanning the dark interior. Loose bits of trash shifted underfoot and I found myself sweating a little. It was far warming in the room than out of it, enough that my breathing came in deeper gulps as I moved in. ¡°Pretty dark in here,¡± I whispered.


    ¡°One sec,¡± Eleanor said. A moment later a beam of light shone into the room, running from left to right along wooden walls covered in tools and over some old gardening equipment that had been shoved off to one corner in the manner of sheds everywhere. ¡°Above you!¡± she screamed.


    I almost fell on my ass as I tried to bring my puny shield over my head and aim my sword up to stab at whatever was above me.


    I blinked up at a bare ceiling for a moment before the sound of giggling from behind me registered.


    ¡°Oh, you are so dead,¡± I muttered.


    After a few more seconds, Eleanor calmed down and managed to only smile at me. ¡°That¡¯s for the thing with my phone earlier. Also, it¡¯s a valid lesson. A lot of Awakened get ambushed from above in places like these. Critters tend to be stealthy like that.¡±


    ¡°Well aren¡¯t you just a grade A fucking teacher. Thanks for the lesson, teach, is the next one about changing your pants in the field? Christ, my heart stopped for a second there.¡±


    ¡°Language,¡± she said. She pointed her light across the room again, searching. ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything in here. The air¡¯s too stale.¡±


    I reached into my breast pocket and fished out my own flashlight. ¡°If we¡¯re allowed to break and enter, does that mean we can¡­ confiscate things we find?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I think they draw the line at outright theft,¡± she deadpanned.


    Leaning my sword against a workbench, I bent down and freed a pitchfork from amongst a pile of tools. ¡°Not even a little?¡±


    ¡°I think you might want to stick to your sword, that looks like too much for you to handle.¡±


    ¡°Ohh, more innuendo? The princess is a pervert.¡±


    ¡°Innuen-- oh, grow up.¡± I heard her shifting something behind me. ¡°Found something,¡± she said.


    Abandoning the pitchfork and taking up the sword again, I returned to her side and looked at where the light was pointing.


    ¡°Goddamn.¡±


    ¡°Language.¡±


    There was a pile of meat on the ground, just bits of flesh and bone that looked like week-old roadkill. Bits of matted fur stuck out from the mess at odd angles and, now that I was closer, I caught the sickly-sweet scent of rot. ¡°What the hell happened there?¡±


    ¡°Looks like a raccoon. Probably a half-turned critter that met a fully turned one. They can get pretty territorial.¡± She looked around again. ¡°I think this place is clear. If there was anything it would have come out by now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask,¡± I said. ¡°But what exactly is insanity?¡±


    She started walking towards the door but paused at the threshold. ¡°We don¡¯t really know, exactly, but we know the symptoms that make it appear and the things that happen once an Insanity zone has started to form.¡±


    I followed her outside and had to blink away the blinding brightness of the sun. ¡°Alright, so what are the things that happen in one of these Insanity zones?¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    She gestured around us, at the powered down lights, at the rust creeping across the steel molding. ¡°Listen, no birds or bugs. Nothing left alive. If there were trees they would be dying off too. But those are side effects. The first thing affected is anything that¡¯s sentient. They get sicker, then any mental issues get worse.¡±


    ¡°Um, not to be the party pooper, but aren¡¯t humans pretty damned sentient?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°We tend to be some of the first affected. Just a few hours in an IZ like this would have some people start showing signs. In a high level one it can be nearly instantaneous.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s comforting. And we¡¯re safe, right?¡±


    ¡°Awakened are safe, yeah. The higher your Sanity attribute the less you¡¯re affected. Normal people with mental issues will have it worse. Any genetic issue will get worse, hormonal or chemical imbalances will tip off the scale. So, someone that suffers from paranoia will have worse symptoms, regardless of medication. I¡¯m not a psychiatrist, so I don¡¯t know all there is to know about the subject, but it¡¯s pretty bad. Animals, especially the smarter ones are affected next. They go mad, like rabies but more¡­ cunning. And then the physical changes set in. People call it zombification sometimes, but that¡¯s more of a pop-cultural thing and isn¡¯t really accurate.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like jolly good fun,¡± I muttered. We began to walk towards the next door. ¡°So, trees and plants are last because¡­ they¡¯re not fully sentient?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. Once a core forms and starts to grow, things get a lot worse but not as quickly. The closer to the core, the more the world¡­ warps. Have you ever seen an M.C. Escher painting? For that matter, have you ever read anything by H.P. Lovecraft?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the opposite of reassuring. I don¡¯t intend to visit R''lyeh anytime soon.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a reason why we¡¯re needed. An IZ that¡¯s left to grow will become progressively worse. But you¡¯ll be learning about that in class. What¡¯s important to know is that it¡¯s dangerous, but not so much that someone like us can¡¯t do something about it.¡± She was the first to reach the house. With her arms above her head to create a shadow, she peeked through a window set in the door. ¡°Want to breach this one? It¡¯s just a wooden door.¡±


    I moved back from the door and tried to gauge my footing before running up to it and, with the heel of one foot, ramming the door open. The lock clanged apart and splinters from the wooden door frame scattered across a hardwood floor.


    Eleanor slipped around the entrance, handgun in one hand and wand in the other. She looked from left to right, then up. ¡°Entrance is clear,¡± she said over one shoulder.


    I stepped in after her, sword at the ready as I inspected the room. There was a couch nearby, facing a television mounted to one wall. Off to our left was a dining room and to the right I could see a stove and counters within another room. A staircase took up one corner of the living room where it ran up to the home¡¯s second floor.


    ¡°Seems quiet,¡± I said. ¡°Fancy place.¡±


    Eleanor started to nod, then she grew tense. I heard her sniffing the air and did the same. It wasn¡¯t stale like the storage room, rather it smelled like sweat and a bit like rotting food. I wondered, for a moment, if someone had left some fruits out and they¡¯d gone to waste. It wouldn¡¯t have surprised me, what with the need to evacuate the town.


    ¡°There¡¯s something comi--¡± Eleanor began.


    Two grey shapes scuttled down the staircase, spitting and hissing the entire time. I only had the time to stare wide-eyed before they were almost on us. Eleanor brought her handgun up and fired a trio of shots, each one making me blink.


    My ears rang and I regained my senses just in time to see both critters spin away from the girl and towards me.


    The first jumped like a raging cat.


    I swung my sword down, but all I struck was air. The critter hit me in the chest and suddenly I had to deal with a dozen pounds of scratching, biting, angry beastie.


    I spun and was trying to bat away at the thing clawing at my chest when I saw the second one jump for me. ¡°Chrono Caesum!¡± Eleanor screamed as if the words were being torn out of her chest.


    Spinning around, I brought the edge of my shield down on the critter still latched to my chest again and again, only to stare in horror as, despite the bleeding wounds I¡¯d left, two arms moved off its back to grab at my shield with tiny hands.


    I dropped my sword and placed my good hand between the thing and my belly. With a heave I flung it to the ground.


    I kicked at it and when my foot connected it rolled over towards the couch.


    It hissed again, then two beady eyes locked on me and I was backpedaling away.


    The back of my foot caught my sword and sent it scrittering across the floor. The critter lopped towards me, claws biting into the wood to send up chips behind it.


    Eleanor spun above me and I saw a flash. She shot twice more at the thing. Puckered holes appeared in the wood next to it, but neither shot hit the damned thing.


    I tumbled back as it leapt for me. My shield came up and I felt it ram against it. The shield becoming much heavier as the critter tried to go around it.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± Eleanor said. She was staring, gun pointing to the ground next to me. It looked like she wanted to move, to do something, but like me wasn¡¯t sure how to act.


    With my free hand I reached over my belly and to the combat knife sheathed at my side. I had to twist around and wiggle the thing trying to bite though my shield to keep it away, but I finally managed to yank the knife out.


    With a roar I stabbed over my shield and felt the tip of the knife cut into something.


    It screeched. The sound reminded me for a moment of stepping on a cat¡¯s tail, then the thing went wild.


    Three barbed tails lashed out at me as it rounded my shield and tried to latch onto my face. It was only my attempt to roll over the saved me from losing an eye. The critter fell to the side and righted itself with the arms growing out of its back.


    Before it had time to turn on me again I brought the knife down with the same motion I¡¯d use to chop onions. The serrated edge bit into the critter and I put my weight into the blow.


    It scrambled out from under me, leaving a trail of fresh, viscus blood on the ground.


    Before it could get far I grabbed at it with my free hand only to get bitten by twin rows of razor-sharp teeth. ¡°Fuck!¡±


    I spun the combat knife around and held it up like an ice-pick. ¡°Just die!¡± I screamed as I brought the knife down.


    The knife glowed a brilliant white in my hand as it swung through the air. The tip sizzled right through the critter¡¯s hide and into the wood under it.


    I would have tried to stab it again, but the critter bit into my hand and I hissed, falling back and leaving it pinned to the ground. As soon as I¡¯d let go the knife¡¯s glow faded.


    ¡°Back up!¡± Eleanor said. She stepped closer levelled her gun at the critter and shot twice.


    My ears were still ringing from her earlier shots and her continued shooting didn¡¯t help. What did help was seeing the little thing¡¯s head blow open as a bullet tore through it. The second round was lost in the meat of its body, the wound hidden by a layer of bloody fur.


    ¡°Jesus, what the fuck?!¡±


    I cradled my hand close, then looked at the mess that my uniform shirt had turned into. There were dozens of little holes, most of them tinged with red where the bastard had clawed at me. I was fortunate that the material was pretty tough and had resisted most of its wild swipes.


    ¡°It¡¯s not over, fast,¡± Eleanor said.


    I turned to see that the other thing was floating in mid air, mouth opened wide to reveal wicked mandibles next to its jaw. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Three seconds!¡± she screamed. I saw her handgun¡¯s clip hit the ground and she was fumbling with a fresh one, trying to slot it into the gun with trembling hands.


    I rolled over to where my sword had fallen and grabbed it by the hilt. I turned just as the critter started flying up again, as if someone had just pressed ¡®play¡¯ over that tiny part of the world.


    Eleanor had moved out of its path some time ago, so the little shit landed with a thump on the ground next to its dead sibling. It turned and jumped again, still aiming for the girl.


    I swung my sword down, and this time, as I growled in anger and my blade started to glow, I didn¡¯t miss.


    The sword sliced cleanly though the critter¡¯s forepaws and took a chunk out of its belly as I tried to correct the swing. It was enough that instead of landing on Eleanor it thudded on the floor and spurted out blood everywhere.


    I revered the grip on the sword and, before it had time to regrow it limbs or sprout new ones or learn how to fly or some shit, I brought the sword down and stabbed it through the chest. Again the sword glowed a faint white and it passed right through the critter as if it wasn¡¯t even there, then thunked into the wood underneath.


    The critter squirmed and spasmed, little hissing coughs coming out of it until, finally, it went still.


    ¡°What. The. Fuck.¡±


    I backed away, then thought better of it and yanked my sword out of the corpse and stared around the living room, looking for another enemy. Other than Eleanor who was panting next to me, it was clear.


    ¡°What the hell just happened?¡± I asked.


    Eleanor walked over to the creature I¡¯d stabbed through with my sword and poked at it with the tip of her foot. ¡°These are the so-called critters,¡± she said. ¡°They¡¯re what happens when something alive stays in an Insanity zone or near a dungeon for too long. They¡¯re mutated¡­¡± She paused to look at one of the critters. ¡°Raccoons, I think. Mostly organic mutations, no tech, just meat.¡±


    I walked over to her side and stared down at the thing I¡¯d killed. It had dark grey fur along most of its body, save for bits of tumorous, fleshy growths along its sides. It looked as if there were wings growing out of its back, but they were small, just like the mandibles around its mouth. This one had two tails, one the black and grey of a raccoon the other a pinkish skin colour. Both were barbed.


    ¡°Well, he¡¯s not winning any beauty contests any time soon,¡± I muttered. With a hiss, I brought my bloody hand closer to my chest and cradled it there. The bites still stung, especially now that I wasn¡¯t fighting for my life. In fact, I was starting to feel rather tired. ¡°Hey, uh, could they have poisoned me?¡± I asked. It wasn¡¯t reassuring that my voice came out almost lethargically.


    ¡°Oh no, you were bitten? Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, I get bitten all the time. It¡¯s practically kinky at this point.¡±


    Eleanor ignored my failed witticism and pulled me towards the kitchen by my good hand. When we got there she tossed dirty dishes out of the skin and spun the tap. Fresh water began to pour out of it. ¡°Wait here,¡± she said before running off. A moment later she was back with her duffle bag over one shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ve got a first aid kit.¡±


    I leaned against the counter and let her grab my bitten hand and drag it under the water. It stung, but I managed to suppress a wince. It wouldn¡¯t do to whine and look uncool. ¡°You never did say if it was dangerous, the bitting, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Maybe? Most Awakened are pretty hardy. It comes from our Endurance stat. But we¡¯re both fairly low-leveled. Infections can still happen. We¡¯ll have to visit a priest once the test¡¯s over.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I might look like a young boy, but I¡¯m a little old for a priest, don¡¯t you think?¡± She started scrubbing at the bite-wounds just then, maybe a little harder than necessary. ¡°Ow, ow, okay, I get it, no pedo-priest jokes.¡±


    ¡°You talk too much,¡± she muttered. I saw her opening a white, tin box and search within it for a moment before pulling out a package of bandages. ¡°Hold still.¡±


    A minute or so later, after rudding disinfectant over my hand, she was done bandaging it. My off hand looked like a mummy, but the bleeding had slowed down to a trickle and her bandage work looked almost professional. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said while testing my hand¡¯s flexibility.


    ¡°It¡¯s not over. Take off your shirt.¡±


    I just stared at her, one eyebrow raised and a cocky smirk making its way across my face.


    Eleanor glared through her blush then jabbed my in the chest. That she managed to poke me right on a sore wound was probably on purpose. ¡°Don¡¯t be a pervert. I won¡¯t have my grade lowered just because you refused medical attention and died half-way through.¡±


    ¡°Holy shit you¡¯ve got some weird priorities.¡± I took off my jacket and draped it over the back of a stool, then unbuttoned my uniform. Soon it was opened at the chest and Eleanor was ready to assault me with a bottle of disinfectant and a handful of cotton swabs.


    ¡°Language. It¡¯s like you were raised in a barn.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯ll have you know that I was raised by wolves, nothing like those fancy barn-living people.¡± I sniffed haughtily. ¡°I¡¯m an entirely different sort of uncouth.¡±


    My chest was a mess of little pinpricks where sharp claws had gotten through my shirt and a few longer gashes where those same claws raked across me. For all that, though, none of the punctures were too deep, and for the most part they¡¯d already stopped bleeding. ¡°They really made a mess of me, huh?¡± I said.


    ¡°It¡¯s not so bad. In a few hours you¡¯ll be fine. I doubt any infections will have time to set in, and even if they do, the Academy has plenty of healers.¡± She stood up. ¡°I¡¯ve done what I can. Worse case scenario, I think there¡¯s a Necromancer at the Brazilian Academy. I could call in a favour or two. I think you¡¯d be a dashing zombie.¡±


    I snorted and started buttoning my shirt back up. ¡°I¡¯d bet you¡¯d like that I¡¯d finally be interested in that pretty brain of yours.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my best feature,¡± she shot back. ¡°We still haven¡¯t finished inspecting this building. There could be more critters.¡±


    I grunted and picked up my sword, then stared at the bloodied blade. It looked as if the blood had cooked onto the metal. With a bit of a grimace I trailed the blade under the running water. ¡°Hey, how come this place has running water?¡±


    ¡°Pressure left in the pipes?,¡± she said.


    I wiped the blade clean with a nearby washcloth then dried it off on my pant leg. ¡°So, earlier, that whole freezing thing, that was your magic?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°A time-stop spell. Single target, but a fast incantation. It stops time for one person or object. Basically, anything it hits. It lasts for a good thirty seconds.¡±


    ¡°Stops time. That¡¯s¡­ pretty bullshit.¡±


    She grinned up at me. ¡°Thanks. Your white glowy thing was cool too.¡±


    I paused in the doorway to the living room, feet rooted on the spot. ¡°That¡­ wasn¡¯t you?¡±


    Eleanor bent down and picked up the magazine she¡¯d dropped earlier and stuffed it in her duffle bag. ¡°Is it one of your skills? Most of those require an incantation, but there are ways to silence-cast.¡±


    ¡°Pretty sure that¡¯s not the case.¡± I was also damned sure I didn¡¯t have any skills whatsoever.


    ¡°Then could it be your passive? Try cutting something,¡± she said, then pointed to the already smashed-up door.


    ¡°I never was able to translate my passive into proper English,¡± I said. I slashed at the door but only managed to get the tip of my sword stuck until I wiggled it out.


    ¡°Well, what is it?¡±


    I stared at her and she stared right back. Could I trust her? Was it even something important enough that I should wonder about that same trust? ¡°How about a trade? You show me yours I¡¯ll show you mine?¡±


    Eleanor snorted in a very unladylike way. ¡°Fine.¡± She coughed and cleared her throat. When she next spoke it was with a lilting accent, as if reciting poetry. ¡°For though Time flows ever onwards, thy Mind shall be freed of the bounds of the finite river, and thee Sight will move freely in the narrow channels.¡±


    It was pretty enough, I supposed, and the way she said it I could almost hear the capitalization on some words. ¡°I have no idea what that means.¡±


    She shrugged one shoulder and moved into the dining room, scanning everything as she went. ¡°Passives are like that. Mine gives me a sort of post-cognition thing. It¡¯s hard to explain. Yours?¡±


    I heaved a breath and repeated my own, ¡°As long as thy Faith in thy own Truth is greater than the Faith of thy opponents, none shall stand in the path of thy Arm, and that of those with whom thee are Bonded.¡±


    ¡°None shall stand in the path of thy arm,¡± she repeated. ¡°I¡¯ve seen those same words on an enchanted sword once. It was a blade meant to cut through anything. An enchanter about to graduate presented it as his final a few years ago. If your passive is the same, then--¡±


    ¡°Then I can cut through anything,¡± I finished for her. My grin grew to shit-eating proportions.


    ¡°Nope,¡± she said, shooting down my glee. ¡°It¡¯ll cut anything if ¡®thy faith is greater than the faith of thy opponents. Also, ¡®none shall stand in the path¡¯ implies a sentient thing. I don¡¯t think you can slice through walls.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying I don¡¯t get a lightsaber.¡±


    ¡°Of all the people I have ever met, you are the last one I¡¯d give a lightsaber to.¡±


    ¡°Fuck me.¡±


    ¡°Not in a million years. Also, language.¡± She smiled as she walked by me. ¡°We still need to check out the upstairs.¡±


    Following behind her, I climbed the stairs and made my way to a small corridor on the second floor. There was a large bed in one room, the entire thing torn apart to form a sort of nest. Still, after poking around for a few minutes while constantly expecting that something would jump at my face, I found nothing more dangerous than a few discarded granny panties on a bathroom floor.


    ¡°It¡¯s clear,¡± I called back.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Eleanor replied.


    Curious, I followed her voice nad found her standing in a little office. Two of the four walls were covered in bookshelf where literally thousands of books sat. She stood there, eyes roaming over the spines of old books while her finger ran over each one in turn.


    ¡°Ah, you have found the elusive ¡®book¡¯ a very ingenious human invention that holds much knowledge. Next we will explain the realm of dirty magazines.¡±


    Her hand dropped to her side. ¡°Just looking at their collection. They¡¯ve got old copies of most of the classics here, and lots of books on animal husbandry. Some of the first books published on the Awakened, and a bunch of pamphlets from the Association for Opened Minds. A shelf like this can tell you a lot about the people in this home.¡±


    I recognized the last, vaguely. A group that was made up mostly of old Christian sorts who didn¡¯t like the idea of Awakened. ¡°And what¡¯s this one saying to you?¡±


    ¡°That the people here were probably bigots and that we should protect them anyway. We should head out soon. We can take a peek into the next room, then head over to the next spot on the grid.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough. Maybe we should take out time though.¡± I said, then perked up as Eleanor turned around and walked towards the room¡¯s only window. ¡°I don¡¯t feel like running into more of those Critter things.¡±


    ¡°Shut up.¡±


    ¡°No, seriously. I hope your Academy has councilors on duty because if that¡¯s the kind of b-rated, horror-movie shit you have to put up with all the time you¡¯ll have PTSD faster than a Friday night whore gets syphilis.¡±


    ¡°Okay, that was disgusting, also, keep quiet, can¡¯t you hear that?¡±


    I froze up for a moment, then listened. There was nothing for a few beats other than the creaking of an old building, then a scream, faint, feminine and from far away.