I'm going to get to level 30, Jason vowed. Hunt down the Baker Street Horror, and finally, get Rob back.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t something he was able to say aloud, even while alone in the bathroom. Not convincingly, at least. Jason had long learned that if he couldn’t look in the mirror and say something aloud, then it meant that somewhere, deep inside, he was lying to himself. About what, he wasn't sure. Jason had always been bad at understanding his own feelings. Usually Rob had been the one to help him sort through his emotions, although Jeanette was getting pretty good at it as well.

Can’t exactly ask her for help with this one, he thought. The last thing he wanted was for her to find out too much about what he was planning.

Jason held up his wrist, examining the bracelet from all angles, as a startling combination of emotions ran through his mind. Frustration and fear, yes...but also anger. A strange sort of rage that he couldn't explain. Buzzing, understated, yet quietly insistent. At that exact moment, he wanted nothing more than to seek out monsters, any monsters, and kill them.

He shook his head fiercely and locked eyes with his reflection. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Jason muttered. “Why now, of all times? It’s late. You want sleep.”

The fact he could say those words and not instinctively feel the need to argue with his own reflection meant he probably did want sleep. Jason may have been bad at knowing how he felt, but he was very good at saying what he didn’t feel. I wonder what’s wrong with me, he thought, frowning. There’s something about this plan that feels...wrong to me. Dangerous. He'd already known it was going to be dangerous before; what was so different now? Well, I guess now the difference is that I’m not filled with adrenaline. I’m thinking. God, I hate this. Who the fuck invented logic?

Jason let out a frustrated sigh and glared at his bracelet, the anger within him swelling up once more. No. No. No. No. He grabbed hold of the fury he felt at being unable to control his own emotions, harnessing it to close the feedback loop threatening to start. I have to calm down, have to-

“Knock, knock,” Jeanette said. The bathroom door was wide open, but she still lightly tapped against it. “May I come in?”

Control it, Jason told himself. Whatever you are feeling is what they want. Don’t let them win. Re-framing a crisis as a competition always made it easier for him to process. He conjured an image of those things mocking him for losing his cool, giving him the strength to will himself into normality, at least enough to say, “Yeah. Of course. I...I was just washing my face.”

“I’ve been done with work for a while, you know. Just waiting for you.” Jeanette muttered, in a pouting tone, as she walked into the bathroom. “If you're tired that’s fine, but let me know so I can go to sleep.”

“Too tired for what again? Sorry, I was busy with some stuff and forgot what we said we would-”

He turned around and saw Jeanette standing before him, hands behind her back, head tilted sideways, and entirely naked from head to toe. That smirk on her face showed she was well aware that he'd forgotten what they had planned to do, and that she was very much enjoying reminding him of it. “Well, if you're tired, we can just go to sleep,” Jeanette innocently remarked. “I mean, I understand if you're busy with something right now or-”

The hell was I worried about again? Jason thought absently, tossing his shirt and bracelet to the side and placing a hand to her back before picking her up off the ground. Don’t know what I was so worked up over, I feel great now. “Jeanette, my love, I'm going to be honest – I was thinking about something, but for the life of me it doesn’t seem overly important right now.”

“Good,” she replied, giggling and leaning over to give him a kiss. Then, with a mischievous grin, she added, “Today's my turn to pick what we’re doing, isn’t it?”

--

A few hours later, Jason was stubbornly twitching his eyelids in an effort to stay awake. It was a difficult and ultimately useless prospect, but he was no stranger to hopeless fights. Jeanette, half-asleep, reached for his face and touched it gently. “You need sleep,” she muttered. “Rest is important.”

He shook his head. “I don’t like sleeping.” It was pouty in the way that only half-asleep statements could be. “When I’m asleep, I end up seeing a bunch of things I don’t like.”

“Nightmares again?” Even half-asleep, her concern shone through. “Are they getting worse?”

“And if I stay awake, I get to look at your face instead,” he mumbled.

She stirred and made herself more comfortable. “Aw, that’s sweet.”

He reached for the blankets and lifted them up slightly. “The rest of you is pretty nice to look at too.”

“That's less sweet, but I’m not gonna lie, still like hearing it. I do look pretty nice,” she said, sticking her tongue out. “That said, it’s fucking cold. So show’s over, come back again tomorrow.” Jeanette pulled the blanket back over her torso and looped it around herself an impressive amount of times. She’s like the most adorable cocoon I have ever seen. The two shared a quick laugh, and Jason turned around to sleep, hesitant about what would come but with a smile on his face. If I’m gonna have nightmares anyway...this isn't such a bad way to fall asleep.

His thoughts were interrupted by a heavy blanket going over his face. When he turned around for an explanation, he found Jeanette embracing him tightly in a death grip, giggling to herself like the most adorable half-asleep woman in the world. “Just so you know,” she started, in a tone parodying a lecture. “If your very attractive and very naked girlfriend is complaining she’s cold and steals all the blankets, that’s code for 'come cuddle', not 'go to sleep'.”

“But...you told me to go to sleep," Jason reasoned. "And you seemed comfortable in your cocoon.”

“And you said you have nightmares," Jeanette pointed out. "You can be cozy in the cocoon with me.” He felt the warmth of her embrace, a sudden peace spreading through him as he embraced her back. God, I love this woman. Even if the amount of blankets she put on them was a bit much. “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked, in a quiet voice.

“Not even slightly.”

She went on as if he hadn’t said that. “Is it about the Portal, still?”

“It is,” he admitted. “Same thing as always. Those...those chains. I can’t forget them.”

Jeanette let out a thoughtful whistle. “Are the details starting to fade, at least? That should be a sign it’s getting better.”

He could see it just by closing his eyes. An enveloping, unreal darkness that looked like gazing upon nothingness itself. He remembered glancing into the portal and feeling, for a single moment, as though he understood more than humans had ever been meant to. His mind strained with unwanted knowledge, begging to return to its prior state of blissful ignorance. It'd scared him, paralyzed him, and in that moment, left him entirely unable to dodge the chains that shot out of the Portal afterwards.

They would've caught him – if not for Rob pushing him out of the way at the last second.

“Yeah," Jason answered, injecting calm into his tone. "The details are fading.”

Jeanette let out a satisfied sound. “That’s good. I know how traumatizing that day was, but..." She trailed off, considering what to say. "But I’m glad it didn’t get to you too badly.”

They weren’t particularly fast, he thought, thinking back on it. That detail plagued him more than the day itself. Jason had dodged much faster, much more ferocious tackles without so much as missing a beat. The one time it counted, though, he just...

I was afraid. I was careless. I wasn’t—enough. His heartbeat would be racing here normally, his pulse accelerating, sweat dripping from his forehead...but now, even that memory was dulled. Like watching an old movie he'd seen again and again.

Class had gone on as usual a few days later, the world acting like everything was all back to normal, as if Jason could give a shit about normal life after what he'd seen. He barely said a word during that time. Aside from the pain of losing Rob, Jason found himself in a state of shock. Not over the Portal, or the voice, or the chains – but over his failure. Arrogant as it sounded, he wasn't used to losing. Always had the sense that, when the chips were down, he'd pull through. That he was someone the people he cared about could rely on.

But he wasn't. Not always. When faced with opponents outside of his understanding, he could lose. And if he ever wanted to find Rob, he'd likely have to face them again.

Jason inched closer to Jeanette. “Love you so much,” he muttered, bordering on a non-sequitur.

"Love you too," she replied, in a voice filled with warmth and care. Jason focused on her words, centering himself like a rock in a storm, reminding himself that he wasn’t dealing with the unknown anymore. Not entirely. They had spoken to him, and he'd replied, gleaning an inkling of their motivations and personalities. Whatever they were, they thought they were toying with him – and that suited Jason just fine.

He fucking loved being underestimated.

Jason clutched on to his girlfriend, tightly at first, then gently, letting her find a way to slot her neck just over his arm, wrapping his mind around her presence. “Sometimes, it feels like a monster is trying to split my head open,” he whispered. “But when I have you in my arms, it doesn’t feel scary anymore.”

He slept soundly that night.

--

Their conversation continued when they woke up the next morning.

“You have to talk to someone.” Jeanette’s tone was gentle, but stern. She loved him, but that just made her less willing to go easy on him, and he appreciated that. Most of the time. “I’m glad you slept well yesterday, but you can’t exactly carry me with you when you’re away on a mission or something.” Up until now she had been rubbing his shoulders gently, and here she suddenly stopped to grab them tightly. “Can’t be everyone’s big damn hero if you aren’t feeling fine.”

Jason chewed on some burnt toast he had made that morning – in his defense, their toaster was weirdly temperamental – and grunted lazily for a moment.

“I am clearly feeling fine,” he replied, immediately. His voice had a sort of sarcastic tone to it, as though hinting at his self-awareness made it okay. “Just haven’t been sleeping well lately. It’s going to fix itself.”

Jeanette let go off his shoulders and circled him to look him in the eye. “If you aren’t fine, then people might die.”

That is exactly why I have to be fine. “I know. I’m going to be careful, I promise." He put on a comforting smile. "If I feel like I’m starting to slip a little, I'll-”

“Jason, my love, waiting for your mental health to implode before seeking help is the same as waiting until your car crashes to get new brakes.” She placed a gentle but firm hand on his face. “You will see someone.” It wasn’t often that she sounded this stern, and that just made it all feel more urgent. “If you insist on carrying on the way you have-”

“And I do-”

“Then do it well, at least,” she finished, harshly. Jeanette had made no secret she wished he would withdraw from fighting, or at least from his role as a propaganda tool. She understood the importance of what he did, as well as the fact that he was the only one who could do it, but she also understood how unfeasible it was to keep going at the rate he'd been until now. “I wish you would just...take breaks. That you wouldn’t push yourself so hard, you know? But if you want to insist on going until you find out whether your body or mind break first, at least give them both equal chances to rest.”

She had a point, and he knew it.

I can’t even look myself in the mirror and tell myself everything is fine, Jason admitted. Usually, I’m pretty damn good at lying to myself about that. This feels...different. Off.

And if Jeanette knew that, knew exactly how overwhelmed he felt, she'd be much more insistent to find out what was wrong with him. Which is why he refused to worry her further. “I swear I’m”—Shit. I can’t swear and not mean it, that’s a bad relationship idea—“pretty much mostly fine,” he finished, and he almost laughed at how unconvincing it sounded. I have to tell her something now, so she doesn’t worry. Something true, but not the whole thing.

“To be completely honest, the fighting isn’t really weighing that heavily on me,” he said, and was surprised to find how true his own words rang in his ear. Normally he would’ve had to try to convince himself. “What gets to me is the acting, and how quickly it changes. Around the troops, I have to be cheerful, almost flippant – makes them confident we can take on bullet-resistant monsters and win. With the media, I have to be the exact amount of flippant they want. Lovable scoundrel, relatable star athlete, that’s the angle they want and that’s what I have to give them. It wears me down more than swinging a giant sword at some monsters. Way more. That's the kind of shit I’d pay to do.” He laughed at the end, surprising himself. He'd meant it as a joke, but the idea of fighting seemed oddly agreeable to him at the moment.

“At least you can be yourself here,” Jeanette said, kindly.

“Yeah.” Or nearly myself. Hell, I’m not even sure I can be myself when I’m alone. Jason touched her hand and enveloped it between his. “Thank you, my love.”

She smiled back at him, then diverted her gaze to his bracelet, touching it slightly. “What’s this? Gift from another woman?” Jeanette’s voice was teasing, her body language exaggerated. “How could you.”

“Ah, this?” Jason maintained an even smile as a panicked realization hit. Last night was real. Not some fever dream. Whatever those things are, they made a deal with me. He paused. No, not a deal. A challenge.

And Jason had put the bracelet back on this morning without so much as thinking. It made his skin crawl, but against his better judgment, he kept it on. The voices' words were ringing in his ears – he needed the bracelet to beat them at their game, whatever it was.

“Don’t worry, definitely not a woman," he assuaged. "A gift from an opponent of mine. It’s sort of a symbol of the idea we’re going to have a match soon.”

Jeanette rolled her eyes. “I swear, athletes are more romantic with their rivals than their partners.”

He smirked. “I hope I’m more romantic than that.”

“You are. But my friend Jess, she – never mind that! Don’t change the subject!” Jeanette’s voice became stern once more. “Swear to me that you'll see someone about your nightmares, okay?”

He couldn’t lie to her. Jason held her gaze for a long moment, before finally sighing. “Fine. I swear.”

--

“I must say, your girlfriend was right to have you go talk to someone. You've been through a lot, and there's no way you can keep this up forever. It's a lot for any single person to bear. Too mighty a weight for any one pair of shoulders. You need to lighten it sometimes. Though, judging from your history...I think you're the kind to hope for mightier shoulders over lighter loads.”

Jason breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. There's no one who would be as wise and understanding as you're being right now. Jeanette was right – talking to someone was a great idea! Wow, I feel better already.” He knew he sounded like a parody of himself, because he was. “I really should be going now. Great seeing you, and-”

“First of all, sit your ass back down, you’ve been speaking for all of thirty seconds.” Vasquez leaned forward and set down his teacup. “Jason, I’m your coach, not a therapist.” Technically speaking, he was neither. He was Jason’s coach back in high school, but technically, that hadn’t been the case since college. “Somehow, I don’t feel as though this is what your girlfriend had in mind.”

“In my defense, she never specified who I needed to talk to.”

His coach didn’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, he drew a deep breath and said, “Jason, I may have taught you how to throw a ball – and I dare say my teaching was fucking phenomenal – but I can’t help you with...this. You're dealing with something monumental, here.” He leaned forward. “Remember what I said at the start of your freshman year, kid? Still true. I’m always available if you need to talk to someone. However, I highly recommend that you also speak with a professional. I can’t do much outside of vague, empty encouragement.”

“Maybe vague, empty encouragement is just what I’m looking for.”

“Please. Stop fucking around, Jason.” His plea was genuine and heartfelt enough that Jason had to avert his gaze. Don’t look at me like that, damnit.

“Wait,” Vasquez started, narrowing his eyes. “There's something else, isn’t there? This isn’t pure stubbornness. If nothing else, you should know that you can push yourself better if your mind is healthy. What’s wrong?”

“It’s complicated,” Jason muttered.

Vasquez laughed. “I’m a good coach. Try to confuse me, I dare you.”

If I want to keep some secrets, I have to be willing to give up others, Jason reasoned. It’s not like the coach’s house is bugged…probably. “Things were really rough for me after the Portal incident first happened.” He turned his gaze to his teacup, losing himself in thought. “Kept getting questioned by a bunch of government fuckheads about it. As if my answers would change after the thousandth time. They eventually left me alone, verbally, but they never stopped following me. Following Jeanette. Don’t think she ever noticed.” Or if she has, she hasn’t told me so that I won’t be concerned. “Then more monsters started showing up, and I gained this weird...power. Ah, coach, if it was bad before then...” Jason trailed off, shaking his head.

He studied his coach for a reaction. The middle-aged man remained still and his face hadn’t turned to horror. Instead, he'd leaned forward and rested his chin on intertwined fingers. Even now, he refuses to interrupt me when I come to him with an issue, Jason realized. Even if he probably has so much he wants to say.

“Military, government – you wouldn’t believe how much infighting there is there," Jason continued. "Don’t think they all agreed how to approach me or what to do with me. Felt like all branches of government were trying to get to me at the same time. Military got to me first, and they turned me into a propaganda tool almost immediately." He hesitated. "You know, though, I – I think not everyone agrees with them. Think some of them would just love to run experiments on me all day long and figure out what lets me gain levels.”

They'd already tested him plenty – but only in the ways they could ethically test him. Not that he thought they would get any kind of answer no matter how hard they tried. Dissect me, and all you’re likely to discover is my unhealthy addiction to protein powder.

“I’m afraid," Jason finally admitted. "Let's say I go to a therapist. How could I ever know for sure that they aren't reporting everything I say back to the government, looking for a weakness or – just something, anything that they could hold over my head. The things I’ve overheard, coach, they're...”

Jason shook his head. “I can’t trust anyone with this. Literally anyone I might be able to talk to could either be a spy or are one of the people I’m trying to protect. This is the kind of thing where I guess you’re supposed to take it up with your parents, since they’re the only ones you know are going to be on your side no matter what, and…”

And my parents died when I was twelve. Before all this monster insanity even started to happen, he thought, but somehow the words wouldn’t come out. It doesn’t feel right to say that. Feels like that would be a lie. Like that’s not really why I came here.

He sat there in silence for a moment, then awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. “This is the kind of thing you can only really talk to your dad or something so...so I did. Here I am.” I can’t believe I said that. But the words rang true in his heart. Truer than any of the bullshit he'd been spewing.

Vasquez regarded him in silence for a moment. Jason’s stomach began sinking into a mire of nervousness and regret. Countless excuses ran through his mind, jokes he could make to lighten the mood, to pretend that the words he'd just uttered were totally definitely not meant to be taken seriously. For a moment, his masks slipped back on and he started laughing as if it were all a farce – but he stopped when his coach held up a hand toward him.

“Jason,” he said, in a gentle tone. “You've been through a lot, haven’t you?”

“Not really," Jason answered, shaking his head. "I’m not the one who got kidnapped by darkness.” Rob... “I’m not the one who has to fight monsters every day without powers.” Danse... “I’m not the one who has to stay up late every night waiting for their partner to come back home, worried that they might not.” Jeanette... “Honestly, everything considered, I can’t complain. I’m doing pretty fine if you ask me.”

Vasquez stood up. “Well, that's why I'm not asking you. I’m telling you that you've been through a lot, whether you want to accept it or not.” He walked across the room and sat next to Jason on the couch. They were quiet for a moment, and then his coach put his arm around him, chuckling lightly. “You've always been terrible at being honest. Why don’t we start with that?”

“I can’t tell you.” Jason shook at the prospect. There was no way he could involve anyone else in this. Not after being issued a challenge from the voices. “There's just too much – I can’t put you at risk. This is my problem, coach.”

Vasquez gave him a mighty shrug in response. “Remember what I always told you? Never have to tell me what you're up to, kid. Just be honest with yourself. I'm here to listen, not to understand.”

Jason considered for a long moment. “I lied when I said I came here just to make Jeanette happy,” he muttered. “I really did want to talk to someone about all this. But it couldn’t be a therapist, that just...isn’t what I need right now. I know what my emotions are, but it’s not like knowing that suddenly makes them go away."

Is this honest enough? No. It still felt like he was lying to himself. “The stuff about the military watching me is true, but honestly that’s not why I came here. If I really wanted to, I could figure out a way to find someone to talk with.” Getting closer. My heart isn’t rebelling as much anymore. “I just...have this issue, you see.”

His coach nodded and tapped him on the shoulder, all while never letting go of him. “Hm. An issue?”

Jason's face tightened. “There’s this friend that I let down a while ago.” Images of Rob pushing him out of the way of dark chains flashed in his mind once more. “I was used to always helping him out, you know? Guy got into trouble, and I’d be happy to bail him out when it came to it. Only...only the one time he helps me, it’s the most important one. Bastard had to take the good part.” Jason forced himself to chuckle. “And now I finally have the chance to help him – to make up for failing him in the first place. But I know that helping him is going to be risky, and it’s going to be a problem if something happens to me. Like Jeanette said this morning, a lot of people are counting on me. But it’s my duty, I owe it to him, you know? I mean he only got in that situation because of me, so I have to...”

Tendrils of disquiet wrapped their way around his heart. Why is it, he thought, that this doesn’t feel right? Of course I want to help Rob! That was the one thing he was absolutely sure of right now. Everything else be damned, he was willing to fight the entire goddamn army if that’s what it took. If Rob needs my help, I’ll do it. If I can find him, then I – ah.

Suddenly, it all made sense to him. What his feelings were, and why his heart didn’t feel right. “It’s not my duty,” Jason muttered, emphasizing the word. “I'm not obligated to put myself at risk for him.”

Vasquez observed him in silence, then he nodded. “You were always shit at taking responsibility.”

“Guess I am.” Jason chuckled. “Truth is, I guess I wanted to force myself to feel like it was. Like I shouldn’t be happy so long as he’s gone. That going a single day without missing him is betraying his memory, or not being grateful enough that he saved my life. Part of me thinks that I can justify throwing everything to hell and trying to help him, consequences be damned, by saying that it’s my duty. My responsibility."

He sighed. "But it’s really not. He wouldn’t want me to feel this way or put myself at risk, and because I’ve known him since we were shitty little kids, its kind of hard to force my feelings to behave a certain way, you know? Because deep inside, I know what he'd want. Thinking that saving him is my duty would just make him upset. If I could ask him, he'd tell me to sit tight here and do what I can to protect everyone – our city, Jeanette, his parents...that’s what he would want.”

Vazquez continued to nod slowly. He didn't prod for clarification, and he knew he wouldn’t have to. Jason hesitated for just a second before saying, “But thing is, real talk, coach?” He leaned forward. "I don’t really give a shit.”

Saying it aloud felt oddly liberating. “You know, coach? It’s not about responsibility, duty, or any of that – I just want to help my best friend. Even if he'd yell at me for it. Is that wrong?”

“No. But considering your issues, I imagine there's more to it than that.”

“There is!” Jason cried out. “I want to help him, but what if I fuck up and make things worse for everyone who’s relying on me? That is what has been keeping me up all night. It’s driving me crazy.”

He knew what he wanted to do. But he also knew exactly why he shouldn’t, and why nobody would tell him to go down that path. Nobody except the voices, who sure as hell don't have my best interests in mind.

Vasquez let out a deep breath. “I get why this is troubling you – but I also don’t. Guess you always have been the type to worry too much about what people think. Sometimes, Jason, you just need to cut loose.”

Rob used to say that too, Jason thought. It was almost ironic coming from him. He wasn’t entirely certain Rob hadn’t been using some sort of advanced deadpan at the time. He’s the one who has to cut loose once in a while. I’m perfectly fine.

He pushed the memory aside. “But coach," Jason began. "What if things...don’t work out?”

Vasquez gave him a mighty shrug in response. “Just try it. If things get troublesome, you can always find a way out of it. Besides, kid, I'm positive that you failing just ain’t gonna happen. Whatever you want, you’re gonna get.”

Jason gave a weak laugh in response. “How can you be sure of that? You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t,” Vasquez admitted. He tightened the grip on his embrace. “But I do know I raised one hell of a man, and he’s not the type to lose. You’re going to go out there, get everything you want, and no one is going to come out hurt.”

“That seems greedy,” Jason muttered.

His coach shook him. “That’s fine. Be greedy. Be obstinate. Most of all, be whatever you want – and I will always support you, Jason.”

That didn’t address any of his concerns. It didn’t make him any more confident that he was doing the right thing. There was still a sense of guilt over being so selfish, and his soul was screaming at him that he was doing something wrong,

Yet for some reason, Jason felt a hundred times better than before.

Turns out he really did want nothing but empty encouragement.

--

Any lingering feelings of negativity vanished once Jason started his daily combat mission. All that anger, that desire to kill something...it melted into something else. It was an explosive sort of pleasure, his smile widening with every bug-creature that he squashed. They should turn this into a new type of therapy, he thought, cheerfully, as he wiped purple innards from his sword. “Hey, Danse – how many left?”

“Just that one.” Danse gestured at the creature going downhill. It was another turtle thing, although smaller than the last. This one was freaking sliding at an alarming speed down one of those long sloping streets, where a ball would roll for minutes until it reached flat ground. Danse whistled in disbelief as he reached for his radio. “Should I see if any of the snipers have a handle on it?”

They wouldn’t be able to kill it fast enough. Besides, I need the EXP. Jason shook his head. “I got this.” He jumped forward, and it was only when he was already midair that he started to form a plan. My character sheet says I have high dexterity...let’s see how far I can take that.

Some thoughts came over him, then. Concerns that he might injure himself, and logical arguments that there was no need for what he was about to attempt. He banished them all and placed his sword horizontally on the ground beneath his feet.

“JASON, WHAT-” Danse began shouting.

Jason glanced back, grinning and saluting his superior before pushing himself down the slope. He slid faster, faster, picking up speed until the surrounding buildings became indistinct blurs. A moment of imbalance would've sent him flying, but Jason held steady, body straight as he watched the turtle-creature come to a stop at the bottom of the slope.

Have to be really careful with how I do this, Jason thought. He justified his idea by telling himself he wanted to kill the monster before it got near any civilians, or that intervening quickly would reduce collateral damage from the military, but truthfully, he had to admit a part of him was enjoying this. He'd never pushed himself to see exactly how far his Character Sheet could take him before. Time to find out.

Crouching down on his sword as it slid, Jason extended his left arm backward and hovered it over the handle. The turtle was close. Then, in a flash of motion, he kicked off his weapon and jumped. His sword flipped into the air, and Jason snatched it by the handle, effortlessly twisting his body into an overhand swing as he sailed forward. He brought his sword down on the turtle, and its shell cracked in two, viscera spraying in opposite directions.

Reached Level 23!

5 Stat Points Gained!

This feels...incredible, Jason thought, eyes widening as he landed on his feet. He whirled around and brought the sword down again, bashing the turtle's corpse, frowning as it failed to elicit the same sensation as before. I want more. Give me more. More experience. More of this feeling. His grip on his sword tightened, veins bulging, as he smashed the ruined corpse again. Come on, you useless fucking creature – do something right, at least.

“Jason!” Danse’s shout snapped him back to reality. “What the hell – what the hell was that?” His superior was breathing heavily, having run all the way downhill to catch up to him. “That was incredibly dumb.”

“Oh c’mon," Jason protested, his adrenaline subsiding. "You have to admit, it was kind of cool.”

“It was not!” Danse cried. Then he drew a deep breath. “Seriously, what the hell was that? Why did you rush ahead? We could’ve provided you with some covering fire.”

Jason stopped to think. Why had he done that? It felt so natural at the time, that mixture of anger and pleasure hitting so right...but something was different. Maybe I just wanted the EXP.

“I was afraid it would damage the storefront over there,” he lied, gesturing at it vaguely. “Figured the sniper squad wouldn’t be able to take it down that quickly and the explosion guys would cause too much collateral damage, so...you know.”

Danse shook his head, exasperation plain on his face. “You're insane." He peered at the slope. "Did you even know you could do that?”

“Honestly, no. That was the first time I tried.”

“That was the last time you tried that.” Danse didn't need to explain that this was an order. “You could have gotten yourself hurt trying to speedrun that monster, you know?” He chuckled at his own joke and Jason had the good sense to follow along. “I’m glad you’re fine,” Danse muttered.

Jason awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. “Thanks, and...sorry.”

“Just don’t let it happen again,” Danse told him, in a stern voice. “If nothing else, that probably chipped your sword to hell and back. Do you know how much taxpayer money that thing costs? They had to custom order it for you.”

“No," Jason winced. "And don’t tell me. I don’t want to know if I’m swinging around what could be a down payment on a house.”

The two shared a quiet laugh. Jason knew his superior was pissed at him, and for good reason – he would have to make sure this didn’t happen again. Although my level is getting higher. Faster than before, unless he was mistaken. So it was worth it, in the end.

“Hey, Danse," Jason began, pivoting to a different topic. "Last time we talked, you mentioned a special monster. How’s that going?”

He regarded Jason curiously. “Are you sure you want to know? It’s a little dangerous. You can stick with the usual patrol if you prefer.”

“Yeah, c’mon – what do we know about it?”

“Not a lot.” To say Danse was dissatisfied would be an understatement. “It's reached seven victims, we think. Not all of them were fatalities, but I don’t have the exact number with me right now. Thing is, Jason, the way each of them died is different. The only reason we even think the same monster is connected is because all victims reported smelling the same thing before they were attacked.”

An idea sparked in his head, and he wasn’t sure if it scared or excited him. “That creature,” he asked, slowly. “Do we have a code name for it?”

Danse nodded. “Yes. The Baker Street Horror is what we’re going with, since what it actually is appears to be a mystery." He paused. "Why are you making that face, Jason?”