As an awkward teenager, I thought I’m going to die young and alone on a gray rainy day in a small empty apartment. Not on an empty lot, fighting a deranged ratman. Life is so weird and full of plot twists. The adrenaline rush ended. My thoughts were tangled in a ball as if I had just recovered from anesthesia. One time in the hospital, there was a guy, who woke up after the operation, took off his trousers, and started dancing. I was too tired to dance, but had enough juice left to remember stupid internet stories. “Houston, we have a problem. Earth is calling Kim.” “Shush! I’m ok. I think.” What now? I had to be here, knowing I cannot win. Unless a piano falls from the sky, right on the head of this bastard. Maybe I should lure him into that military place. Doesn’t look like a base, but if there are some armed guards… That’s a plan, even if it’s a bit cowardly. “I don’t even know what to tell you, Arthur.” What else…? There were more Wyrd points, and using them could help. It’s like they were made to be some kind of “last resort” option. To bait struggling agents into selling their humanity. I didn’t spend much, but those tend to snowball. As soon as the endurance increased, existence became easier. My mind cleared up, and lightness returned. I regained a bit of color. Magical unearthly energies brought me back in the game. Now I had to defeat the guy, whom I barely managed to hurt. Two points of health will not save the father of the American boomerang marten hunt from an inglorious death. Maybe I should’ve chosen a boomerang instead of a hammer. I ran along the fence past an abandoned barrack, to where rusty excavator stood in the pile of sand. No idea why. The Stranded was too fast. Even if the old thing was on the move, I would never catch him with the dipper. But I needed all the ideas I could get. The situation was super critical. This assignment demonstrated I can’t do shit to any serious opponent and should go back to the farm. The ratman was already on my tail. He was mocking me, walking slowly, and grinning like a madman. “You wanted to fight that thing. Why are you tumbling around now?” The voice was mocking me too. “Not helping. We need to neutralize him, at least for a couple of minutes.” Being an Atma creature, the Stranded doesn't give a damn about a dent in his chest and a shattered knee. Also, he’s a rat. Little fucks are tenacious. I saw with my own eyes, how one still tried to crawl away after being cleaved in two by repair man shovel. Add human stubbornness to that, and then the pain from being a fish out of dimensional waters… … Free cheese. I had an idea. Dumb, dangerous, and unreliable of course. One of the cargo containers was open, so I went inside and waited. “Arthur, you are officially insane.” concluded the Fool. “Yes, from the age of seven. Your point?” “I kind of hoped this guy would be smarter and won’t fall for your trick.” The Stranded had to squeeze through the opening but he still went after me. “See? Never overestimate your enemy.” He was already reaching for me with his dirty claws when I jerked forward and pushed a heavy iron shelf onto the ratman. While he was busy with that, I went for an attack. “Hammer time!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. The hammer landed on the ratman's head. The Stranded crashed his chin into the bottom of the container. Metal groaned from the impact. It's good that no one saw me doing this. *sigh* “Not how it works.” I put all my remaining strength into that, but it still wasn’t enough to stop the creature. I jumped over the Stranded, and out of the container with a bullet. Slammed the doors, inserted all the brackets in the right places, and then jammed them. You know, like in old cartoons like Tom and Jerry? The mouse runs away. Hides in the house and nails up all the doors and windows with planks that have come from nowhere? This is how I looked at that moment. Only I was a cat. And the mouse had already come to its senses, and wanted out? “Creative,” said the inner voice. “But stupid. Is that all you managed to come up with?” “This will do. At least, I’m still alive. Perhaps he'll die of hunger there?” “Yeah, in three weeks. Until then, he’ll scream bloody murder. Some moron will release him, and everything you did will be for nothing.” I’ll be stronger next time. We’ll dance like equal partners. Or I should find a way to toss this metal box into the sea somehow. The Stranded fell silent. A faint crackle was heard from the container. “Nothing good is happening there, I assure you.” added my imaginary friend. Light pinkish spots appeared around the brackets with faint smoke. “Is it just me, or laws of physics refused to work today?” My plan went sideways earlier than I expected. The Stranded was apparently generating enough electricity to quickly heat the thick steel. The glowing spots became lighter and wider. “Eh, Arthur. The Cradle has its own laws of Atma. Elemental energies act exactly the way wizards, psychics and other people with an F in natural sciences expect them to. You should change your mind to game logic if you want to master the system.” It started to annoy me, not going to lie. “If it were real electricity,” - continued the Fool. “Your heart would have stopped when you hit his spiral barrier.” “Okay, as I said, this is bullshit. But what now.” I had to run while I still could convince my legs to move. The enemy was planning to either melt the fucking door or heat it up so that the metal becomes brittle enough to break with a shoulder. I didn’t even make it to the barrack when steel snapped behind me. With a furious roar, the Stranded leaped out. Ratman jumped into the night sky, and then kicked me in the face like a real kung fu master. I rolled on the ground again. My luck ran out, and the bag of tricks was empty. He was ready to end this fight, but the piano arrived at the last moment possible. There was a clap. The Stranded twitched with a disgusting hiss. Another clap. The ratman threw back his head. Blood gushed from the blackened eye. To my great surprise, the enemy began to retreat, covering his face with claws. Several bullets hit him in the back of the head, and the monster nearly fell, before disappearing behind a pile of rusty pipes. The assignment is complete. The reward will be distributed among all agents who participated in the assignment. Rewards: Amount of Atma, proportional to agent’s level. 150 zan. That’s it? Is the battle over for today? A storm of emotions raged within me. But the physical body wanted to stay on the ground at least until the morning. Grunting like an old man, I got on my feet and finally saw the one who saved me. The angry girl was standing right there. Long black hair, gray eyes. Twenty layers of makeup, including absolutely brutal brows, gave her an even more belligerent look. She was still holding a smoking gun. Probably should’ve paid attention to this detail first of all. “I thought you were dead already.” Her tone was cold and condescending. Woman with a gun - Level 5 Wait a second. Level five? After two kicks to the head, the brain didn’t want to comprehend anything. My inner voice did the calculations. “Holy Zana, this gal is an agent!” I took a step towards her, and she immediately pointed her gun at my forehead. “Stay where you are, chump.” “She seems kind of… evil, to be an agent.” I thought. “You got new levels at the same time since she helped you to kill that freak. I'm eighty percent sure that she is on our side.” The girl seemed to be thinking, but at the same time she did not take her eyes off me. I knew this stare very well. Alice says I constantly freeze, looka ing at single point. My savior was reading system messages. “Ok. Now, you’ll explain to me what the hell happened here. Or, I will shoot you in the knees and get away with it.” “Well, maybe it’s seventy-five percent.” I would be very happy to talk with a colleague, but it then that the accumulated damage finally got to me, and my eyes went dark. The sky whirled merrily as I once again fell head down.