Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I covered my head with my arms, smacking into the oil-slicked ground. My vision blurred from the impact as discomfort radiated up my arms and my knees. My heart rate spiked, fluttering in my neck, until it reached a threshold. Then something happened. My pulse began to plummet, a wave of calculated calm washing over me like a drug.

What was that? My title at work?

Snap out of it. Take stock. You hit something.

I stood, ignoring the cold prickles of pain from my scraped hands, and surveyed the scene.

A dull stoplight loomed overhead through a layer of fog that rolled in from nowhere, emitting specular red strobes. My bike laid on its side, handlebars splayed upwards. Whatever hit me struck with enough force to tear the tire from the spokes. The tire had landed a short distance away, bent in half from the impact, wobbling back and forth on the asphalt like a ship in a storm.

But I wasnt looking at the bike. I was looking at the crumpled form beside it. It took a moment to recognize it for what it was. A body. My skin lost all warmth as I realized what had happened. I wasnt under attack. Someone, or something, had thrown a whole-ass person and Id just happened to get in the way.

A slight chill went through me as I considered a new possibility. I quickly pulled up my quest notification. It still indicated east. Good. Not my target.

My earlier hope felt foolish now. This was the second case of violence Id had a front row seat to in less than a day. I snuck a look around the corner and saw nothing but an abandoned street, then made my way to the body to investigate

Within a foot of him, the sharp scent of chemicals caught my nose. His skin was raw and angry, covered with red splotches that laid bare bits of muscle and bone beneath. Half of his face had been melted away. A single gray eye blinked and looked up at me.

Acid.

Nausea gripped me and I held a hand over my mouth, trying not to vomit. Its not that I was an idiot, but I had clearly been unprepared for the sort of situation I was getting myself into. I just hadnt expected it to be this bad.

This is low threat?

My one test case of Probability Spiral was indirect, minimally violent when you considered the person I used it on had a gun to my head. Any damage caused was brought on by his own actions. If this was the result of another user, then they were basically my polar opposite. I pulled my phone and keyed in 911

Stop. A voice told me. My voice. This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com

Its a burner. Its fine for minor indiscretions, setting up payment and services from students for what amounts to petty misdemeanors. But you called home with it earlier. Even if it took them a while to access the call history, they could potentially trace it to the gas station you bought it from, pull the footage. Then its just a matter of running the image through facial recognition.

No. I couldnt call the police. But I couldnt just leave him there, either. I bent down, shining the light from my phone on his pants, confirming none of the acid had made its way onto them, then began rifling through his pockets. He groaned when I accidentally jostled him. Keys. Wallet. Drivers License, Dorian West. No cash in it, just pictures of his kids. My hand settled on something in his side pocket and I removed it.

A knife. Not the compact sort. It was long with a wooden sheath, and an overly ornate handle trimmed with burnished silver. But now that I was looking at it, and looking at his pocket, it was far too large to have fit there comfortably.

Weird. But irrelevant.

Valuable? Maybe. But taking a weapon from a crime-scene seemed like a terrible idea. I tossed it aside. Dug around in his pockets until I found a cellphone. I swiped up, and when facial recognition failed, it gave me the emergency option at the bottom left.

I called 911 and masked my voice while I gave the operator a location, then left the phone face-up next to the mans burned and withered ear. Grimly, I realized that they would, in all likelihood, not get to him in time. Not if things had been as chaotic as the SWAT officer who chased me into the garage made things seem.

Bad for him, but not necessarily for me. It meant Id have plenty of time to make an escape. At some point, Id made the decision to flee. The body had firmly jolted me out of the previous manic state and fear for my life was kicking in. I didnt know enough about my class, my skill, or what I was up against. I was open to investigating before discovering the magnitude of the threat. Having now seen it second hand, there wasnt much point in putting myself in this level of jeopardy. The reward wasnt a small amount of money, but I wasnt willing to die for it, or curious enough to get my face burned off.

I eyed the knife. It didn't look like much, but it wouldnt hurt to have a little protection, and it wasnt like this guy was using it. I took the knife from the ground and slid it out to check out the blade. It was long and pointed, more like a dagger. It felt good as I hefted it in my hand before I, then I slipped it back in its sheathsheathe and , nestlednestling it into the kangaroojoint pocket of my hoody.



Wife-beater guy closed on her. It was over. Unless she had something up her sleeve, she was going to die. I moved up, taking cover behind a mailbox. What could I do?

What should you do?

The question struck me. This wasnt my problem. Id come out here to scout. To get an idea what I was up against. Now, I had that information: I was a small fish in a vast, terrifying ocean. People were literally dying in the streets handfuls at a time. For what the system had referred to as a low priority, local bounty. What typical bullshit.

Its not like we were ever truly civilized. Not really. Things had always been bad. But there was at least a veneer of civility. A pretense of a system to hold things in check without ever truly fixing anything.

And now there was a new system. I had hoped it could be a new start, a redistribution of power and society. But as I looked over the charred bodies on the street, at Daphne, writhing on her back, I saw only chaos.



Winner Takes All

Primary Objective: Use Your Newfound Abilities to Win the Game and Escape.

Reward: ???







A dry heave snuck up on me. I could only suppress my terror for so long. I had to get out of here. The safety of the alley was so close. I almost left. Then I heard a voice. It sounded so small, so weak. Different than Id ever heard her.

Please I just want to go home.

Fuck.

Thoughts raced through my mind a mile a minute, searching for a justification.

Okay. If this is a small threat, I don't want to see a big one. Theres a blockade. I need to get my family out. If I dont, good chance theyll get caught in the crossfire when things escalate. Chances are high well need someone, a coyote, maybe. That will cost money. More than we have.

This is an opportunity.

I snuck a glance over at Wife-beater guy. He was fast, but he was walking with a limp. There was a dark section below his sternum, soaking the shirt. It was impossible to see the color on fabric that black, but there was a good chance he was bleeding.

He spun around, and I ducked back down behind the post box Id slowly made my way to.

Okay. Both of them are hurt. This is actually the perfect time to act. But how?

I looked around for anything more practical to use as a weapon. I didnt trust the knife, or my ability to get up close and use it properly. Scanning the street, my eyes landed on a dark object that had skittered a foot from a nearby body. Black and asymmetrical.

Of course. This wasn't a fantasy world, this was the South. There was no honor system or requirement to play fair. People would take any advantage they could get.

Gun.