Kinsley led me into the crackhouse. Black graffiti covered the walls, and it stank of stale piss and cigarettes. Not exactly a sterile environment. There weren’t many healthy members of Roderick’s lodge around, and those present were too busy tending to the injured to pay any real attention to either of us as we walked between the rows of cots. I wasn’t certain why we were going into another group’s territory to discuss this, but she’d handled herself well enough outside that I was willing to temporarily give her the benefit of the doubt.

Kinsley held her hand out to a patch of wall and a doorframe appeared. It was the same height as her transportation spell, but this one was a much lighter shade of blue, closer to white.

“Thought your powers were offline,” I said.

“The… mobility option, yes. I think overfucker limited those specifically, so we couldn’t use them to transport lux or evacuate civilians when the event is over.”

“You’re probably right. Smart.”

Kinsley paused with her hand on the door knob. “You’re being nice.”

“Oh, I’m going to give you shit in a minute—and you know exactly why—but other than that, it seems like you’ve been handling yourself well,” I said. “So, what is this?”

“See for yourself.” Kinsley stepped aside and prompted me. I pulled the door open and stepped inside.

The inside felt like the lair of a goatee twirling villain. Plush red carpet sank beneath my feet, quickly soiled by the questionable state of my boots. There were tall brown bookshelves surrounding the room itself, with no legible titles on the books themselves, their spines either blank or scrawled on in unrecognizable chicken scratch. At the far edge of the room was a long glass window the length of a semi-truck’s trailer, giving a crystal clear view of the vibrant ocean beyond, with just a hint of sun on the surface far above.

“Please tell me that this has some practical application?” I noticed how annoyed I sounded a bit too late, but Kinsley paid me no mind. She moved around me and approached the center of the room, where two chairs sat opposite of each other around a low, polished table that reflected the sheen of the ocean from the window above.

“This is A skill assigned to Merchants who’ve hit Level 10. It lasts a maximum of eighteen hours, restricts communication based on parameters I set. No one can hear or find us. It allows or rejects people I choose. Actively rejects. As in I can say, “Fuck off, Bob,” and Bob will go flying off towards the door, kicking and screaming, knocking over shelves until he finds his way to the exit.” Kinsley sat in her chair, indicating her head towards the one across from it.

“That’s a very specific example,” I said.

“Maybe it happened, maybe it didn’t.”

“Any chance you can do the opposite? Use it to summon a person in particular?”

“No. First thing I tried.” Her face turned crestfallen. “Anyway, the real upside is the cooldown time. Twenty hours. If revealing myself as a merchant does bite me in the ass, I can basically hide here indefinitely, exit for a couple of hours, activate it again as soon as it comes off cooldown. Almost untouchable.”

There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation as Kinsley reached down beside her chair and opened a small white-top cooler, withdrawing a red soda. She offered me one, and frowned when I declined.

“Ellison—“

“Is he in immediate danger?” I interrupted.

“He’s physically fine,” Kinsley said.

“Does whatever you’re about to tell me potentially put my family in harm's way?”

“Not really?” She looked unsure. “Not directly.”

“Then save him for last.” I leaned against the top of the chair briefly, saw how my armor immediately sullied the surface, and decided to remain standing.

Kinsley’s jaw worked. “That’s a little cold, Matt. Even for you.”

“Why did you out yourself?” I asked.

“Because people weren’t organizing the region, and no one would listen to me until I showed them a reason to.” Kinsley looked frustrated as she said it.

“This puts me in a position where I have to protect you, and I’m not sure if I can. You’ve been organizing the region?”

“When you’re giving discounts to people buying wood for barricades and traps, they tend to listen more. And you don’t have to protect me twenty-four-seven. I’ve got the Lodge people for that.” Kinsley shot back.

“Barely.” I shook my head. “That horseshit you spun to Roderick about other groups reaching out to you. All horseshit?”

Kinsley rolled her eyes and huffed. “No. Are you really going to keep up the constant Q to this A, so you don’t have to tell me what happened with Region Six? Or how your friend lost their core before the event started?”

“Wasn’t my friend.”

“Matt—“

“Fine, you want some answers? I’ll go down the list,” I snapped, “My friend was kidnapped because I—shocking as this sounds—wasn’t paranoid enough, and his friend—probably two of them, died when the same suit-fucks that sent me diving head first into your door took him away. Region Six is a bio-nightmare with the potential to spread and we all know how well people handle Pandora's box at this point. I’ve nearly shuffled off the coil several times, but that’s not anything new, right? And to top it all off, the motherfucking Overseer decided to blast out to the entire city that—“

there’s a winning lottery ticket out of this shit, if they can just end me.

My mind caught up with my mouth, saving me just before a grievous error, “—every civilian is a walking bag of five-hundred selve.”

Kinsley studied me, her expression sympathetic. “Sit down, Matt.”

“No.” Realizing how immature my reaction was, I followed her direction and sat on the edge of the chair, my weight leaning forward.

Kinsley waited until I settled to continue. “A few groups got wind of me quickly. It seemed a little too fast, but people are messaging and voice calling through the system a lot more now. Doesn’t take much for word to spread.” Kinsley listed the names of different groups I didn’t know, with a few I did—The Adventurer’s Guild and LRE—at the bottom.

“Swerve the LRE for now. Give the Adventurer’s Guild priority if you can. They seem decent enough, all things considered. Dealing with everyone else is your prerogative.” A shadow covered the room as a whale passed overhead. I turned to look at it, my lips tight. If the Domain was customized to the User, I could see why this scene and setting would be calming to Kinsley. But being underwater put me on edge.

Even with a thick pane of glass between us and the ocean, I felt like I was drowning.

“What else?” I asked.

“Can we talk about your brother yet?“ Kinsley asked, her fingers drumming on the chair nervously.

“If there’s nothing more pressing.”

Kinsley stood to her feet suddenly and crossed the room to me, pressing a finger into my chest. “Why do you keep putting him off? The way you care about your family is probably the one way you’re not a jerk.”

My voice was cold. “This is me caring, Kinsley. After what I just saw out there? The Overseer would happily purge an entire region if they didn’t fortify before the time ran out. Maybe the consequences aren’t that dire, but it wouldn’t surprise me if they were. The timer ends before we fortify? That’s my Mother, Iris, and Ellison.”

“Okay, I kind of get it. Funny how that works, when you actually spend the time to explain yourself.” Kinsley rolled her eyes. “Nothing else comes to mind.”

“Then hit me,” I said.

/////

Given the ticking clock, I couldn’t take all the precautions I’d normally want to—getting back on the bike, visibly leaving the region, then doubling back and infiltrating as a civilian would have been the safest play. One of the advantages of Kinsley’s Domain was its size, and the fact that there were multiple exits.

I changed into my hoodie and jeans and took a door that led to the alleyway behind my apartment building, waiting to remove the mask until I confirmed there was no one lurking nearby. Then I took the stairs to the third story and used the power conduit next to the gap in the overhang as a foothold to haul myself up to the roof.

Eventually, I found Ellison sitting on top of the apartment rooftop, legs dangling off towards the edge, staring out at the red stained skyline.

“Hey El.”

“This sucks.” His voice was angrier than I expected.

I sat down beside him. Down below, a group of civilians—massive, burly men—were dragging barricades modified with outward facing stakes into the road. Greg was with them, doing his best to help despite his slim frame.

“Yeah. It’s a disaster.” I said.

“There’s nothing I can do.” Ellison glowered downward.

“This is bigger than us. I imagine countless people are in a similar headspace right now. The ones lucky enough to still be alive, at least. We have to stick together, kid.” I was trying to gently remind him that it could be worse. The piercing glare signaled that I hadn’t been subtle enough.

“God, you’re so full of shit.”

I blinked. “Kind of hostile, but sure, vent away.”

“You act like family matters.” Ellison spat off the roof.

“It does matter, El.”

“Then why were you going to leave?” He stared at me accusatorially.

I blinked. “You mean for college? That’s part of life, kid. At least, if you want a decent shot at a better one.”

“I saw the MIT acceptance letter.”

“Out of state doesn’t mean gone forever.”

“You’re right. This shit’s bigger than me.”

Ellison stood from the roof, gave me one last dismissive stare, then walked away. The tin roof clanged as he lowered himself down. My heart was still racing as I listened to his descending footsteps, waiting until I heard the sound of our front door close. Even then, I kept my voice down.

“He’s gone,” I murmured.

“Do you see what I mean?” Kinsley hissed. I’d kept her on a voice call with me, so she could hear everything on my end without relaying it. “I thought I was imagining it.”

“Not a single sentence with more than seven words. Like there was a hard limit. Could be a coincidence. Brevity. But it doesn’t track with how he usually acts when he hits a wall. Gets longer-winded, not shorter. You said he kept that up every time you talked to him?”

“Yep,” Kinsley replied.

I stared out at the city. The ball of the reunion tower was engulfed in flame, giving the odd appearance of a bleak torch held over chaos. Fear gripped at me. “Projection, lashing out, bringing up history that doesn’t matter to deflect attention and end the conversation quickly. All things Ellison would plausibly say or do. But never in a crisis.”

“I wasn’t even sure whether to tell you. It just seemed so small in the face of everything else. What does it mean?” Kinsley’s voice tinged with anxiety.

“I… don’t know.”

My brother and I had been growing apart for a long time. He’d left the innocence of childhood behind earlier than I had, and had been chafing against my directions and advice for years. I’d tried to mend the gap when I could, but our circumstances had limited my efforts. A disturbing series of connections began to form, some I’d previously shoved away as it seemed too unlikely to be true.

When the civilian system framework came online, Ellison had been texting me. Only, Iris was the first one to mention the screens and inventory, and Ellison didn’t jump on the bandwagon until after seeing Iris’s message, with some piecemeal throwaway excuse about how he thought he was hallucinating.

There was only one explanation that fit.

My brother hadn’t seen the screens when Iris or my mother had. Because he already had a different UI.

Ellison was a User.

was an Ordinator exclusive perk. Considering the sheer number of feats though, it stood to reason that wasn’t the only feat that disguised a User’s status. That would go a long way to explaining why he showed up on the guild screen as an NPC. If he was being incentivized to hide his status, similar to me, it explained why he’d kept all this so close to the vest.

But the probability of two Users in the same household being randomly assigned a covert class had to be astronomical. It wasn’t a coincidence. The Overseer had specifically said during the announcement that they wouldn’t interfere to remove me directly. “Directly,” being the operative word.

Nick—my best friend—had a class opposed to the Allfather, my patron.

It wasn’t a huge jump to assume that Ellison’s objective was equally contentious.

They were finding ways to get at me where I lived.

“Roderick’s guys, a bunch of them are law-enforcement, right? Or ex-law enforcement.” I asked.

“Uh, yeah. What, did you sniff that out of the air?” Kinsley sounded confused.

“Their boots—it doesn’t matter. Grab one of the still-injured guys that won’t be able to fight, but looks like he has his shit together otherwise,” I hesitated. Everything in me screamed that this was wrong, that family was supposed to be the one exception to my paranoia. That I was crossing a line I couldn’t come back from. “You want someone who doesn’t look too stoic, but is relatively calm and still socializing with others.”

“To do what?” Kinsley asked.

“Have him watch Ellison. Hands off observation only, no interference if he tries to leave. And tell him to be careful. My brother is nowhere near as blasé as he acts. He’s as much of a pain in the ass as I am, if not more-so.”

“You want me to put a tail on your brother?” She sounded as shocked as I felt.

“Yeah. That’s where we’re at.”

“Fuck. Fine. But I want that explanation sooner rather than—do you hear something?”

The sound of a screaming engine caught my ears. An olive-painted Hummer was hurtling towards the barricade, leaving a long line of smoke behind it. I withdrew my mask from my inventory, my body tensing. Then, I relaxed somewhat when someone manning the barricade called out and began to move the barricade aside as Roderick, as well as a few of his men, came pouring out of the crackhouse.

“Incoming. Green Hummer in a bad-state. You know it?” I murmured.

“Just one?” Kinsley asked, horrified.

“Yes.”

“There were five when they left. That’s what’s left of Roderick’s Lodge.”