Quinton was running for his life as he jumped over a fence and into someone’s backyard. His foot landed on a ball and sent him sprawling against a child’s outdoor doll house. He crashed against it, scrambled to his feet, and caught the edge of a trampoline that was meant for small children only. It tilted under his weight and sent him tripping forward when the fence exploded in a flash of white light and thunder behind him.

The shock wave and flying debris threw the Airman forward. He rolled, struck a kiddie pool, and spilled water all over himself. Keeping his wits about him, he low crawled around the kiddie pool and thanked his blessed stars there was a child’s slide-set to help conceal his profile. Mad shrieks and laughter sounded from behind the smoldering hole blasted into the fence as two of Quinton’s pursuers entered the backyard.

Jiminy fucking Cricket, why are there groups of them? Quinton slipped out of his fighting bag, a military-style backpack with a black-and-gray digital pattern. He wriggled further behind the child’s slide set since it had a plastic rock-climbing wall he could sit up against and remained concealed. He was without his long-gun since the ambush moments prior forced him to depart from it, but he wasn’t out of the fight.

Quinton rifled through his bag, using all of his Focus to keep his cool as the Chosen stalked across the backyard. Random dogs barked from all around Eagle Crest Road, stirred into a frenzy from the noises and the chaos that had torn across the Ozark Lake neighborhoods. At the same time, Quinton felt the faint weight in his gut pushing in the direction of the lake itself. It was so close he could feel it on his skin, and his pursuers were actively getting in his way.

“We know you’re behind the little slide, Marked,” called out an old man with a dusty voice. “To think, you can’t face an old man and a young sweet girl.”

“Slides are for good girls and boys that follow the Lord of Light and Order,” said a young girl’s voice. She couldn’t be older than eight or nine.

Quinton gritted his teeth, ignoring the haunting feeling of his heart dropping at the horror of fighting a little girl. He found what he was looking for, an oblong pipe wrapped in an obscene amount of duct tape with a black wick pointing from the top. From his pocket, he dug out a cheap gas station lighter and sparked up. He lit the homemade project, the fireworks wick disappearing quickly under the hissing ember.

“I’m sorry!” Quinton lobbed the makeshift thing up into air, knowing where the arc would have it land.

“Only your destruction can save us from the taint of chaos you—” The old man started saying before the pipe exploded in his area, blasting him, the fence he was beside, and a mini basketball hoop set. Quinton’s cover shuddered against his back and tilted as a System Notification appeared.

You’ve obtained +9 Free Od.

Pushing the the slide’s busted parts off of him, Quinton crawled haphazardly to his feet, dragging his backpack with him. The night concealed most of the smoking remains of the explosion, which knocked most of the fencing down where Quinton had entered. He scanned the area, hoping that the little Chosen girl had ran off.

“Suffer a thousand scorches of light, heathen!” squealed the girl, flinging herself through the smoke. She was scuffed up, and her clothes were reduced to rags, but she came flying at him with a deadly fury. Quinton palmed her face, keeping her reaching hands far from his body, stopping her.

Then her feet settled into the lawn and she pushed him back with her head tilted forward, her little-arms-flailing. Quinton realized with a start she had way more Strength than him and bailed before she snatched at his arm.

He moved like a matador around a bull—one that was half the size of a baby bull—and used his lengthy stride to leg it for the interior of the house. If he kept running, she might just chase him down out in the open.

“I’m going to break your legs so you can’t run away anymore!” she screamed after him, throwing a tantrum before giving chase.

“Sweet Mary, you are the greatest argument for a man to wrap it up!” Quinton slammed into the back see-through doors. He wretched. They didn’t budge.

The little nightmare barreled with a ear-piercing shrill at his back. The Airman hopped to the side, narrowly avoiding the full charge but not the palm slapping around at random. He got to feel her Strength—and oh Lord was it mighty—and got an awful sting to his hamstring that flipped him backwards.

He hit a coiled up garden hose, saving the back of his head but not the base of his back. Meanwhile, the walking, shrieking ad for contraceptives smashed through the back panel door and made a thunderous, elephant-in -the-china-room racket through the living room. Quinton caught his breath for a second before rolling back onto his feet.

The opportunity to run back the way he came presented itself.

“There’s a Marked here last I heard!” shouted a new voice, a male’s.

“Oh gracious! I came all the way from west Missouri just for this opportunity!” said a female voice.

Quinton’s Focus helped him think faster than ever before, so he had time to wonder why fifteen percent of the current Chosen population would gather here. They had more than enough Marked to antagonize everywhere around the country. He had to stop his wondering since he had more Chosen converging on his location, and moving into the open sounded like a bad idea now.

The Airman traced the trail of destruction the Littlest Nightmare made and found her picking herself out of the shambles of a kitchen island. Of course, she’d slammed through a coffee table, sofa, and a windowed counter top to get where she was now. He slipped into a hallway behind the stair case and accessed his Status Tablet while digging through his backpack again.

Quinton John Jackson (Basic Human)

Records: [Chaos Marked]

Main Path: [Locked]

Skills:

Od Level: 53

Strength: 8

Agility: 10

Endurance: 13

Focus: 20

Attunement: 2

Free Od: +9

As the Chosen yelled for him to reveal his whereabouts, Quinton furrowed his brow on his options. It was clear that his lack of Attunement was a big detriment in this game. DeSean had made it obvious how advantageous magic could be—but could there be more to this game than carrying the biggest magical stick?

Quinton clenched his jaw and pressed +5 Free Od into Focus. He split his remaining Free Od between Endurance and Agility, raising the former to fifteen and the latter to twelve. Immediately, he felt a good amount of relief from all the running and scrambling he’d done to survive this fight.

“Found you!” squealed a new Chosen to enter the fight. It was an bloated woman with a uncannily long neck. Her face was shaped like a rotten apply while topped by frizzy hair. In her hand was a rolling pin she raised to smash Quinton’s head.

“Here’s your prize.” Quinton lifted the barbecue lighter and mid-size, pumped squirt gun filled with gasoline. He sprayed her face with a jettison of flaming fuel, splattering her clothes and the rug floor beneath her.

The Chosen shrieked, backing away as the Airman continued to squirt her down to her feet. The fire spread around the living room, throwing up a foul smelling smoke that quickly filled the room. Quinton dumped the barbecue lighter into his backpack, unscrewed the squirt gun container, and tossed it into the fire for it to spill.

“Stop being a big meanie, Marked!” shrilled the Littlest Nightmare. She stomped across the fire, ignoring their burning licks as the long-necked Chosen ran around in a panic. Quinton was already starting up the stairs when the little girl with a whole lot of Strength swung her arm and smashed aside the burning Chosen.

“You’re supposed to stop being bad for the Lord of Light and Order!” she screamed, climbing the stairs after him. Her lower body was reddened by blisters, her clothes bursting into fire, the smoke staining her little girl skin. Tears streamed around her rosy cheeks as she endured the pain to chase him.

“I’m sorry we’ve failed you,” Quinton said even though he knew there was nothing he could’ve done to save the girl from making a choice she shouldn’t have been forced to make. But he still felt awful as he pulled out a small bag filled with marbles from his backpack and dumped it from the top of the stairs.

They went clattering down, and despite her obscene Strength, the little girl went tumbling down the stairs. She landed with a crunch against the wall, plowing through planks of wood that the spreading fire was rapidly consuming.

“Don’t think you’ll get far, Marked!” shouted a male voice entering the fray. “I can fly to you!”

Quinton glimpsed a thin, crooked shape with cherub-like wings flapping from his back. He was hovering over the long-necked Chosen’s screaming, blackened body and just about reaching the steps.

A screech so loud it made the roaring fire sound like a tiny campfire pierced the air. A little black-and-red hand reached out and snatched the cherub-winged Chosen by the ankle. The Littlest Nightmare jerked the man down and scrambled onto his back like a roasted spider, her head missing all her hair and leaving an alien-like child’s head and wide maddened eyes reflecting the growing flames and her hatred.

At that point, Quinton was done with his real preparations. He turned away, kicked open a door, and found a boy’s rocket ship themed bedroom. In his hands were three pipe bombs he duct-taped together just moments earlier with the wicks tied to a longer piece. He pulled up the gas station lighter, sparked it up, and—

The wall exploded to his left and revealed a shrieking, badly-burnt little girl flying through the plaster and splints. She clipped his shoulder and knocked the lighter out of his hand.

Quinton watched it disappear behind a huge computer gaming tower set, slipping in between the sound-system wires. He could do nothing about it since he was thrown by the glancing collision and sent into the rocket bed made for someone a lot smaller than the Airman.

He slammed through it, snapping the wooden frame in half only to be saved by the mattress cushioning him from further damage.

Quinton grunted, and rolled onto his feet. He had the three-piece pipe bombs in his hand, but his bag was in the corner where the Littlest Nightmare landed.

His mind spun at the odds of him getting the bag. Not good. He thought quickly on fetching the lighter but that would expose his back. Also not good.

“Lay your life, Marked, and we shall see to it that you are forgiven for your evil taint!” shrilled the cherub-like Chosen.

He came around the corner, still hovering, as Quinton flew at the door leading out. The cherub Chosen’s eyes opened in surprise as he raised a knife. But his reaction was slower, so he got a size-thirteen boot to the face, crunching his nose. The cherub Chosen slammed into the opposing wall as Quinton bullied his way through.

“No!” The little juggernaut kicked through the same wall she put a hole in and slammed her way into the hallway, blocking off Quinton’s escape. That was perfectly fine, because the Airman saw he had an angle on the staircase above her and threw the pipe bombs right over the girl’s head.

Last he saw of it was the bomb ricocheting off the wall and down the stairs where the flames came up to meet it. The Littlest Nightmare braced herself for a lunge while the cherub Chosen got to his feet with his knife aimed for Quinton’s back.

The former high-school offensive lineman was more aware of good footwork than his size let on, shuffling to his right. He dodged the tackle and let one Chosen collide with the other.

Quinton ran back into the rocket ship themed room. He didn’t bother grabbing his backpack and jumped head first through the wood and glass second-floor window, his arms covering his face. He broke through, hit the awning, and rolled off where a mini-van waited from him. The roof crumpled under his body, making him groan with throbbing pain as he forced himself to keep moving.

He shimmied to the back and dropped down to his feet.

The house exploded!

A roaring conflagration blasted out the ground level windows, knocking down two walls, and collapsed the structure of the house seconds later. It fell into the crackling flames with a moaning death while Quinton thanked a higher power for having the mini van acting as his cover from the pyre.

He was laying on the ground, partially singed, deafened somewhat, and wishing his first solo outing wasn’t so exciting. There were System Notifications, but Quinton didn’t pay them much mind right now.

He was still trying to get to his feet when his hearing returned. He barely heard little feet slapping across the pavement and crushing shards of hot glass underneath.

The Littlest Nightmare came around the mini van and stopped right in front of him. Her condition was terrible to behold, freezing Quinton up.

“Why… why do you keep fighting?” she rasped. “Why?”

“Because,” Quinton said, “I’m fighting for more than myself.”

She dropped. Quinton caught her despite his own weakness and the horror of her charred body. He couldn’t stop himself from checking her breath even as the System notified him that he’d obtained more Od, signifying the truth behind the little girl’s condition.

“How many more children are like you?” Quinton asked, shaking his head. His chest clenched, and he felt the need to bury the child. But the explosion was loud, and under the cover of night it was likely to catch the wrong type of attention.

With a shaky breath, the Airman lowered the girl down. He struggled to his feet, wondering if he’d be able to slip away and return to his temporary base of operations where his mom hid.

He might be better off finding somewhere to crash. He’d still hadn’t reached the Chaos Zone, but tonight’s activities left him wary of going any further forward tonight.

Quinton’s mind whirred and made the snap judgement faster than a person would before the System’s RPG progression stats. He was going to head back to his mom’s location and make sure she was alright and that she knew he was fine.

He might not have magic, but his senses were expanded and more fine tune. His mind was sharper, and he was already thinking up ways to improve some of his guerrilla tactic arsenals. Truth be told, he gave DeSean’s group way more guns and ammunition than he should’ve. But Quinton had ideas, and finding a working aircraft was just the tip of the iceberg.

The Airman absconded from the scene, leaving the giant fireball to his back as he hobbled back to his mother. He took the long way around, making sure to watch his back so he wasn’t followed. Only when he got close did he make a small pit stop to drink water from a working faucet and look at the System Notifications.

You’ve obtained +7 Free Od.

You’ve obtained +6 Free Od.

You’ve obtained +12 Free Od.

You’ve obtained [Quick Tinkerer] on your Records.

[Quick Tinkerer]—You’ve shown wondrous adaptability using your mind more than magic. It takes ingenuity and mental fortitude to seek a path to victory with your natural gifts. In recognition of your merits, you’ve earned a permanent +10 Agility, +15 Focus, +5 Attunement.

You’ve developed a Skill without a Path: Speed Craft (Great Active).

[Speed Craft (Great Active)]—When working with your hands to craft, fix, or design an instrument of magic or non-magic origins, active this Skill to boost your Agility and your Focus by 25%. This Skill can remain toggled on as long as you have enough Stamina. The longer it remains on, the more Stamina it requires every minute.

You’ve obtained +5 Free Od.

“Well,” Quinton said with a small smile. “I’m finally getting somewhere.”

Unfortunately, the moment he stopped in an alley, he found he didn’t have the stamina to keep moving. Before long, sleep took him, leaving him stuck behind a row of garbage cans where it smelled like cat piss. Hopefully, his mom wouldn’t mind him returning in the morning as a smelly, slightly burnt, bloody wreck of a son.