The Ranger team made good time over the city terrain, which was deserted for about a good mile and a half before they hit another layer of anomaly. This one was flimsier, but it still felt like a swarm of angry insects had taken up residence under his skin… all over his body. Like your leg fell asleep and had pins and needles, but everywhere at once. Luckily that was over pretty quickly. They emerged into a swampy area, and so Rivera ordered a further humping through the muck, then ordered them to avoid something large and scaly half-submerged there. They found dry land, and Rivera ordered a halt in a small clearing.

“This had better be important, uh Dane,” Daniels said.

“Vitally, sir.” He produced the two cards that weren’t stuck in his inventory and they flashed to life in his hands. “I’ve played this card game for decades. We should stop and take a look at what everyone’s got, discuss how everything works, you know… it’ll help to get everyone up to speed on what it means so we can survive in here.”

“We have a gigantic portal to somehow shut down, and we are not deviating from the mission. Rivera, Guzman, I want you listening closely. Pugh and I are going to secure the perimeter. Niederhauer will keep watch.”

This felt very much like he was being dismissed. Daniels disappeared in one direction, while Pugh went another. Guzman, who appeared to be a fae, began examining the short bow her weapon had transformed into, and followed this up by closely inspecting the arrowheads of the two dozen in her quiver.

“Okay, listen closely,” but he couldn’t even begin before being steamrolled.

“Do you really believe–” Rivera started, but stopped when Specialist Niederhauer once again showed off what he shouldn’t have.

Niederhaurer flashed with bluish and greenish light, in an aura around his feet with steamers curling up and around him and will o’wisps appearing and disappearing. “Oh!”

“Guess who’s a Caster, bitches?” Niederhauer declared.

Dane groaned. “That was a mistake.”

The dragonite bent and squinted at Dane. “You best shut it before I get you with my brand… new… fire… breath.” Flames belched out of his mouth and Dane hoped his mustache had been singed off.

“Definitely a mistake.”

“Sarge, we don’t need any of these cards and whatever. We’re way overqualified for this. Whatever we don’t get from these magic cards we can do because we’re certifiable badasses. Says so on the uniforms.”

“Uh Dane here says he has valuable intel and we need it.”

“My name is just Dane.”

“Let’s give Just Dane our attention. Just Dane, you have five minutes before we fall out. Impress us.”

Oh jeez. Dane searched his mind for the most pertinent information. In the meantime, Pugh also flashed with an aura of yellowy orange power that meant he had probably just equipped one of his starting cards in his Core Card slots.

“First of all, stop touching your cards. Don’t put any of them in the top row of three. You can’t take them out once they’re up there. Pugh and Niederhauer already figured out how to do it wrong, and they’ve probably severely hampered their futures.”

“Insult me again and I will severely hamper your future with my dragon breath, followed closely by my dragon fists.”

He was given a steely glare by Rivera, and he shut his dragony gob.

“The cards are special abilities that can be swapped in and out. I have one for creeping around silently.”

“Of course you do.”

“You probably started with three of them as soon as we made our way through the first barrier… and changed into fantasy creatures.”

Rivera nodded, and rolled his hand over in the get-a-move-on motion.

“They come in power levels.” He showed them the Silent Step card, and pointed to the white icon. “This is common, the weakest. I’d be hamstringing myself if I put this in my Core Slot. I can still use it if I just equip it normally. We will probably get a bunch of these as we adventure and find treasure, higher level ones, things that fit the way you fight. I’d be willing to bet the two who have already slotted themselves with a Core Card just chose the lowest power level.”

“This is rich, coming from the shortest member of the party.”

“You just endangered the mission,” Dane shot back. His heart was thumping hard in his chest. No way Rivera would actually let Niederhauer do anything to him… right?

“How about that drone?” Rivera asked.

Dane had forgotten about it. “Oh… uh. It transformed… into… whoa.” He’d opened up the large, stiff leather luggage the drone had transformed into, and found a mechanical eagle composed of incredibly fine brass and bronze metalwork, swaddled in a layer of soft leather, swaddled inside another layer of velvet and then another layer of silk. It came with a mythic card:

Bronze Eagle

Clockwork Familiar Companion

Equip this card and gain the following abilities at Level 1:

Shared perception up to 100ft

Telepathic control up to 1000 ft

Channel master’s abilities up to 20 ft

Sympathetic HP loss*

This companion has the following abilities:

Dive bomb (destroy this companion to deal 500 damage to a single target, with area of effect damage)

Catch and Carry (this companion can hold and transport one loot item, or small creature)

True Sight (passive)

Special: If this card is placed in a Core Slot, the user may choose to become a Caster or an Adventurer.

When Dane picked up the card, the bottom line about the Core Slot changed into Artificer or Gadgeteer. Fascinating. These were undoubtedly the Caster and Adventurer class step up versions of Tinkerer. He wanted to test this out by giving the card to the sergeant or Daniels, but those other idiots had already broken his trust in the ones who hadn’t proven themselves to be idiots yet. Niederhauer or Pugh, for example, would almost certainly equip the eagle into their Core slots, then probably dive bomb the party and kill them all as a prank.

The eagle instantly responded to his mental command, launching itself into the sky. For a moment he got a dizzying double image, before he closed his eyes and rode along with the amazingly sharp sight of his new favorite toy in history. It was sharp enough he could spot a raven only half a mile northwest of their position.

“Move it along, if you please, Just Dane.”

“Oh, right.” He called the eagle back in, and in seconds it was perched on his shoulder. Damn, it was heavy. A deep swell of pride welled in his chest.

“Guys?” Guzman piped up. She didn’t talk much, and in Dane’s experience those were the people you ought to listen to when they did speak. “Has anyone seen Daniels?”

***

Lieutenant Daniels had known right at the beginning that this mission was going to deal with something ridiculous. He knew the moment they decided to send the nerd with his drone to chase after them. He hadn’t felt like a necessary element to what he’d been told to do. Which meant that something above his pay grade was happening. The gigantic pink and purple hole in reality should’ve been a good indication, but the damn thing had hypnotized him out of asking the questions he shoulda asked.

But this, this was well beyond what he had imagined might happen. One moment they were making good motion towards their objective and the next he was tumbling in free fall. He buttressed himself for a good landing and found that he barely had any knees. Barely any body either, seemingly replaced with a whole lotta beard. It shot in front of his eyes as thickly braided strands, a magnificent blonde that shone a bit green in the light of the glowing fungus growing from the walls around him.

He reached out to grab his other wrist and found that, while his arm was considerably stronger even than it had been, it was well shorter than he was used to and he was struggling considerably to reach past his right nipple. He didn’t dare bring his other arm over because he could feel the hilt of a blade clenched in his grip and he worried his current disorientation might put its accompanying blade through an eye. An unpleasant end to a suddenly unpleasant career.

And with a sploosh his descent came to an end.

You have taken 35 damage from the fall!

He shook his head and banished the window that had popped up. Was this what a stroke was like? He stood up from the crotch deep water he found himself in and took in a big long draw of air. No signs of burnt toast, so he must be good. The air was musty and the light was dim, he realized for the first time. It was strange because he really wasn’t having any problems with making stuff out. He was in a large cavern. Above him glared a bit of sunlight, a hole in the earth criss-crossed with plant matter. That must have been where he came from. There were a bunch of human-sized skeletons laying about, grinning up at him. And there was a large door out on one side, rimmed with thick panels that contained letters in a foreign language. Korean or Chinese by his guess.

He allowed himself to peer at his weapon hand and was astonished to see that it wasn’t a blade but rather a large hammer. It had good balance and in his arm it felt rather light. It certainly wouldn't be difficult to wield in combat. But where the hell did his rifle go?

Things were bordering on nonsensical and if there was anything that Daniels didn’t do, it was nonsensical. He needed to think. And dry off. He trudged out of the water and sat down at its edge. The others had undergone similar transformations, so it might take a bit before they noticed him gone, and the hole he went through was surprisingly well-covered and narrow. He would have to work on the assumption that they wouldn’t be able to find him. Which was fine, he’d done his survival training and earned his badge. He’d figure this out. Something niggled and twitched in his mind. Maybe he really was having a stroke? He mentally probed the feeling and a display shot forth, showing him some sort of card layout, one of which was filled. It had the picture of a short and stout man, his beard flying wildly left as he swung his hammer right, and underneath were the words Flurry of Blows.

The other bit of information told him he was a level 1 Dwarven Adventurer.

It seemed a bit cheeky to call anyone a dwarf. But that’s what he was apparently. He needed to find that Dane Pogue, and fast. This wasn’t something he was going to figure out on his lonesome.

Daniels got up and started to trudge forward when, to his lack of surprise, one of the skeletons rose to stop him. He smashed it hard with a heavy swipe of his hammer, allowing for the momentum of the swing to spin him around. There, rising from the other piles, were at least a dozen of the fleshless monsters. And they were all heading his way.

***

Daniels appeared on a bunk in a smallish tent with a horrific headache and a bad case of confusion. He no longer had a two foot beard covering his entire torso, wasn’t dressed in things with names like breeches or tabard. He no longer had a massive hammer, nor would the attributes, skills or card menus appear when he concentrated. In fact, as the cobwebs cleared, he realized he was in his bunk from the night before, on the section of I-90 that no longer functioned and was causing a whole swath of problems for the local and state governments. This section was now a major hub of military activity, sporting a plethora of large and small tents, and this was where… he’d woken up this morning.

What?

He got to his feet, buoyed himself up against a sudden surge of dizziness and nausea, then staggered out of the tent and in search of the general.

It only took him forty-five minutes to connect with her, which was something of a miracle when it came to how the military operated.

“Lieutenant,” she said. “You had better explain yourself.”

“Ma’am,” he said. “I’m not certain I remember. I definitely went through the anomaly with the squad, correct?”

“Correct.”

Not a dream. Neither was changing into a dwarf, falling down that goddamn hole, or getting ambushed by dozens of skeletons, and taking out some twenty or thirty of the bastards, only to have the strewn about bones reform into something that looked like a bison, which chewed him up. He could almost feel the thing’s teeth, which were made of splinters of bone and triangular scapulas sinking into his guts.

“I… died, ma’am. I’m so sorry. I failed the mission.”

“You’re clearly still alive, soldier. Not a scratch on you. Now, we’ll have the docs check you over one more time, get you through the outer perimeter of the anomaly, and see if you can figure anything out once you’re inside.”

The thought gave him serious pause, but he really was still alive, he really didn’t feel terrible, except for some phantom pain, and it was possible this was entirely psychosomatic. This was one of those terms you learned after you did a few tours and came back wounded.

“I’ll get geared up.”

“Doctor first.”

Two hours later he was in civvie clothes, this time with a rucksack containing a shovel, more rations than he thought he’d need, and a handful of cell phones from the engineering corps, for ‘experimental purposes’. He still had his service weapon, because a Ranger wouldn’t travel into combat without it, but it didn’t seem as necessary.

The moment he crossed over the threshold, once again, he converted into a dwarf. He watched the beard sprout from his face and tumble down to his beltline. A prompt also appeared.

A skeletal amalgam (level 9) chewed you up.

You have died!

Oh, woe is you!

You lost half of your inventory items, rounded down. They’ll remain with your corpse. For the next 48 hours, you’ll lose your entire inventory, should you die again, and after that… well, just don’t die, okay? Death hurts a lot.

Pro Tip: health potions, my dude. Get some.

He heard some shouting from back in the USA, beyond the veil, and turned to see the blurry form of several soldiers shouting and making hand gestures.

Again, his weapon had transformed into that hammer he’d swung about so effectively. After that though… He pulled the rucksack up to find himself with a perfectly serviceable shovel. The rations were all food of a sort, but wrapped in cheesecloth. As for the phones, they’d become a pile of books. The top one read Skill Book: Knowhow (Ritual spellcasting).

He noted all this down on a slate, basically a handheld blackboard from back in his elementary school days. The chalk was of a pretty terrible quality, but neither had transformed on coming through, and that was something. Finally, he shoved it through the filmy edge of the anomaly and slid it along the ground back toward the waiting general’s aides. The last sentence on his slate read Linking up with the squad, wish me luck.

***

The search for Daniels was fruitless, and Rivera called it off after Niederhauer nearly fell into a hole in the ground. Luckily for them he was a massive dragon man, and only got stuck at the waist. Rivera ordered Pugh (still his old human self somehow) and Guzman (basically her old self, but her hair had gone cotton candy pink, and her ears had grown several inches) to get him unstuck. This only worked when Pugh activated one of his cards, which boosted one of his Attributes once per day, and ended with Niederhauer squishing Pugh into the leaf-covered forest floor.

The chain of command now began with Sergeant Rivera, the golemite, who ordered them to hump it forward until they could find a decent place to set up defenses and sitrep their situation.

Moving through the semi-rural land was something strange to behold. Suburbia stretched lanes, a shop, a bar, a church and a dozen homes. Then everything would lapse back to the thick trees and forest of northern North America, wound through by black asphalt checkered by cobblestone where reality had broken.

The next suburban stretch of village was a bit bigger than most and within sight. Rivera guided them in its direction.

Dane couldn’t help but stare. Even from this distance they could see the warped battle between different realities. One large building, a pizzeria, was ablaze in lights, the rustic other reality kept at bay by its seeming refusal to surrender. But the other buildings were a mix of stone cottages with thatched roofs, a single log cabin, and fresh pine planed boards jammed together into the form of a ramshackle church. The last may have been put together after the phenomenon occurred, Dane mused. Because it didn’t look very professionally put together.

“The pizzeria,” Rivera called. “Let’s see if we change back to ourselves when we go inside.”

“Leave Just Dane outside, he looks better as he is,” Neiderhauer joked. Pugh chuckled and Dane stared stonily ahead, refusing to take the bait.

“Hey Sergeant, should I take out my drone and scout a little?

Rivera closed his eyes. “No. We’ll all go in together. I don’t know what will happen to your eagle if it enters a pocket of reality. And I don’t want to risk that asset since it seems to me that it might add up to air support in this place. But I do want us to get there quick. Who knows what’s hiding out here waiting for us.”

Rivera opened his eyes and looked over them all in a sweeping arc. “Double time it, people.”

“Double time!” they all yelled.

“March!”

The soldiers jogged ahead, their equipment jingling and jangling, clattering and clanking in its unfamiliarity over their equally unfamiliar bodies. The endurance, though, was shocking. Dane felt like he could jog all day. He wondered if the Army would frown on him taking his PT test in this body.

The bounding rangers reached the village in a good quarter of an hour, slowing to a tactical march when they hit the depressed trench that served the community as a rain gutter.

Rivera shared eyes with the rest of them. Something felt off about the place.

“Bird time?” Dane asked. Rivera shook his head.

“There’s nobody about. That’s what the problem is. There is no one here.”

The rest of them gaped, taking in the surrounding community. The buildings were all there and all transformed. There was even a set of fields beyond the stretch of homes, making it all look like a proper medieval serfdom. But no one was walking or working anywhere.

“Maybe they’re all in the pizzeria?” Guzman piped up. Her voice was low, and her eyes wide. “I mean, that’s where I would go if this RPG madness swept over my home.”

Rivera nodded. “To the pizzeria. Keep it slow and tactical.”

They spread out, keeping six feet between each of them, coming up and through the cul de sac, passing the empty homes. A gust of wind whistled through, adding to the desertion of the place.

The pizzeria’s neon lights flashed red and pink. ‘Mama mia, it’s a me, Mariano!’ Tall and wide shop windows were dark, obviously covered by some sort of tarp or paper.

“Expect scared people,” Rivera advised. “And be careful, scared people do stupid things.”

Neiderhauer and Pugh turned to each other and played a quick game of paper rock scissors. Then Pugh sighed and walked up to the entrance by himself.

“Anybody in there?” Pugh asked, rapping on the door. It creaked open of its own accord.

“Nope,” Pugh said, stepping away from the door. “Nope nope nope fuck no.”

Neiderhauer cracked a laugh. “Damn, that’s creepy. You couldn’t pay me a million dollars to walk in there.”

Rivera smiled a metallic grin. “Uncle Sam ain’t released your ass yet, ranger. We’re all going in. Neiderhauer, you take point.”

The man’s face went three shades of grey. “Yes, Sergeant,” he barked, more regret on his face than a dog caught with a jar of peanut butter on his snout.

Their new weapons held out and at the ready, the rangers filed into the pizzeria.

***

The Pizzeria’s interior was a chaotic mess. Sheets of black paper had been taped over all of the windows. Tables and chairs were piled behind them. There was a desperate sense of urgency to the preparations, Dane saw. A sense of urgency that seemed to have deserted the place and left no one to tell the tale.

Rivera put up a hand in front of his eyes. “There goes the reality idea. What is going on around here? Dane, you got anything for us?”

“Yeah, buddy, share with the class,” Pugh said.

Dane looked down at his hands. “A magic effect? A card effect? I wish I knew.”

Rivera grunted. “Everyone search the building. There’s gotta be something here. Guzman you pair with Pugh. Dane, you’re with Neiderhauer. We don’t need anyone to go missing again.”

“What about you, sarge?” Push asked.

Rivera’s metal teeth shined in the artificial interior light. “I pity the fool who chooses to mess with me.”

They broke up and moved, checking through the place. Dane and Neiderhauer entered the kitchen first, while Pugh and Guzman went up the stairs and Rivera busted down the locked door to the manager’s office.

“Clear,” Neiderhauer yelled, startling Dane. It was true, the kitchen was tidy and spotless as if it had been cleaned just an hour before. Seemed more suspicious than clear though. Dane shot Neiderhauer a glare and the man just shrugged.

“Clear in here,” Rivera boomed, stepping out of the office.

“There’s a bunch of stuff up here!” Pugh called. The rest pounded up the stairs. As spooky as the mystery felt, it was interesting as well and Dane had to admit that he wanted to figure it all out.

The upstairs had maintained its tables and chairs as they had been, but draped in the booth seats were suits of leather armor, a variety of daggers and small axes, and a smattering of well-crafted crossbows, quivers by their side. On one paneled wall hung a poster, a woman straining a bikini, holding two bottles of beer and emerging from a pool. In the corner stood an electronic Marksman-brand dart board, a small medieval-looking leather pouch on top of it.

Rivera threw up a fist, punching a hole in the ceiling. Everyone flinched and turned his way, their weapons at the ready.

“Oops. Sorry. Just wanted to yell hell yeah. I don’t know what happened here, but we just got some ranged weaponry!”

Dane shook his head. “We have to play to our class and race strengths.”

“Did you just say race?” Guzman asked, her voice filled with razor blades.

Dane shook his head again. “Look, all I am saying is that you can have the weapons but don’t make them your main method of attack. Maybe one of us is built to do well with ranged fighting, not everybody.”

Guzman picked up a crossbow, narrowing her fae eyes. The she fired a bolt. They all watched as it hit dead center of the poster lady's forehead.

"Slut," Guzman muttered.

She loaded another bolt and fired again, this time taking the sack off of the top of the dartboard.

A light-blue gout of flame rose up from where it had been, then dissipated.

“What the hell was that?” asked Rivera.

Guzman shrugged. “I got a message in my brain that said I successfully triggered a trap.”

“Is that so?” Rivera asked. Everyone stared at him as he marched across the room. He reached down with his stony hand and grabbed up the pouch. “Gold coins,” he announced to the lot of them. Then he turned to the dartboard, cocked his head, and punched it in its side. A torrent of blood poured out and the thing shriveled gray and died. All around them the place changed from its cheery modernity to an electric-less abandoned ruin.

You have defeated the Phasar Mimic!

You gain 100 xp

You have gained 1 gold and 45 silver.

“What the hell?” Neiderhauer yelled, his eyes bulging hard.

“I saw it flinch when Guzman took her shot.” Rivera looked around the place, gesturing at the items.

“Everyone grab a crossbow and some quarrels. We’re going back to firing from cover.”