James ‘King’ Wakefield, White Tank Mountain

To James Wakefield, life couldn’t be better. He had the empire he always wanted. He had beautiful women to service all of his needs. He’d managed to crush all other gangs on the West side of Phoenix and install himself as King of his own little fiefdom.

With the arrangement he made with the Sinloa, he had all the weapons he needed to face off against all the sheep on the East side of Phoenix. Even that bitch and her son, Arnold. He winced as he remembered his longtime girl being vaporized while still engaged with his cock. It healed, the system even made it a bit bigger. Maybe I should thank the fucker? Nah, can’t let disrespect like that go unpunished. Have to make an example. It’s one thing to take my girl, but to attempt to take my manhood. Nah, fucker has to pay.

His mind drifted as he sat on the couch playing the latest version of Black Ops. For a moment he briefly wondered if this would be the last version of the game ever released, while silently noting that the System played hell on player counts.

“Heh, fucking idiots…” he muttered to himself.

He didn’t respond to the sound of the door to his suite opening behind him as he continued playing the game on the largest TV he could get his hands on, a nice Sony 85” monster.

“KJ, Monte’s here to see you.”

James stifled his momentary irritation then stood to greet the Sinoloa Cartel’s representative. If the rumor was correct, the man in front of him was actually the son of the current head.

“Wassup, brotha? How is it?” Always pay proper respect to your associates, especially the ones that make you money.

The shorter Mexican man leaned forward to accept the bro-hug and smiled, “It goes good on our end. We have secured everything along the former border of our two countries and are on track to take Tucson and El Paso in the next month.”

James considered that information with a wide smile, he wasn’t particularly patriotic, though he was in no hurry to come under the purview of the Sinoloa, “Well shit! Viva la… what.. Mexico, Sinoloa?”

“Hah, yes, something like that.”

James offered the man a glass of expensive whiskey, “Drink?”

He looked at the offered refreshment and took it without hesitation, “I have time for one, el jefe wants me back on the road with our next shipment of slaves by nightfall. I have my men already unloading the ordinance you asked for.”

“Ah, well shit, was hoping to get some Madden in. Ain’t got no good players here anymore.” James eyed his bodyguard and lifelong friend, Kameron Jones.

“Yes, well, afraid it was never my thing. Say, you requested some pretty heavy stuff, why you need it? Having troubles?”

James turned to hide his irritation from the smaller man. “Nah, just decided it was time to secure the whole area. You know, protect my assets and shit.”

Monte sipped his whiskey and placed the glass on the table next to James, “Look, Senor James, if you have… found yourself up against an opponent you can’t handle, we can always provide assistance. Just say the word.”

James looked sideways at the man, “Nah, we good. We got our shit taken care of.”

Monte turned to leave with a slow nod, “That’s good, that’s good, you’re our best provider, we’d hate for that to change.”

James let the man leave while slowly sipping his drink. He stood with one hand leaning against the bar thinking about the failures of the last month. New Phoenix had been keeping them on the wrong side of the I-17 with a combination of helicopter support and adventurer defenders. And the damned governor was too well protected for any of Shantel’s little assassins to get to.

Chandler-Gilbert had finally got their shit together and managed to start fighting off their raids. Not all of them, but enough to cut into the bottom line. And Mesa was a non entity, isolated behind the other two major city sectors that made up the Phoenix of old.

And last but not least, Lake Pleasant. The armor company that rolled in as it was about to fall had yet to leave. Word from his spies indicated that the Army was helping those people gain even greater strength within the System by taking control of the dungeons around them, hunting, and leveling as they went. When James’ people encountered a dungeon, they destroyed it and looted everything that wasn’t bolted down. He’d never even considered they could be controlled and used to level up.

He felt it all slipping out of his control, in a moment of unrestrained rage he threw the glass in his hand to shatter against the face of the large TV. The force of the impact caused the TV to break away from its mount and crash to the floor. “FUUUUUUUUUCK!”

Kameron Jones, James’ bodyguard and lifelong friend, heard the commotion from outside the room and prepared himself. A few moments later the door swung open and a seething mad James emerged at a purposeful gait, marching down the spacious hallway, “C’mon motha fucka, we’re gonna get rid of those damn helicopters tonight. Get Dillon to meet us outside.

Governor Daniel Smits, New Phoenix Government Complex

“Whadda ya mean he won’t talk with me!?” Governor Smits yelled through the phone in his hand. “I’m the God damned elected Governor of Arizona and the last recognized governmental authority for hundreds of miles. And if what you’re telling me is true this Captain Devers is a member of the State National Guard! He literally answers to me!”

Governor Smits was breathing heavily into the spittle-covered phone while Allison sat calmly in a chair on the opposite side of his desk, legs crossed, attempting not to smile at the red-faced man.

“The Captain refuses to acknowledge my authority!? On what grounds? What? His unit was activated under Federal orders? Well tell him he’s recalled, and to get his ass and his tanks to cover the I-17!”

The Governor slammed the phone down on the cradle and slumped angrily into his massive leather executive chair. After he finished fishing out a fat cigar, stuffed the end in his mouth, lit it, and took a long drag, he sat forward to turn his attention to his intelligence head.

“So the Army isn’t recognizing your authority?”

“No, give me the rundown, Allison.”

“Well, you already know it’s not good. We’ve lost three of the regimental blackhawks to anti-air missiles that the cartel has clearly provided to King James.” Before she could continue her brief the Governor interrupted.

“THREE!? I thought we’d only lost one!? What the Hells happened!?”

Allison swallowed the urge to berate the man for interrupting her and continued, “Two more went down last night. Adventurer parties managed to take out the sapper teams afterwards, but the damage was already done. We did find that they are using advanced pre-System Russian equipment. The kind specifically designed to fight us, as in the US military.”

“Fuck, we can’t deal with the Cartel because we’re too busy dealing with these fuckers. Any word from the leadership of Chandler-Gilbert?”

“Ah, yes, apparently they finally got some. Don’t have the full intel picture on that, but apparently they were living as independent survivor camps and generally stayed away from each other until the slave raids started up. They can’t go South because everything between here and Tucson is a high level hunting ground. Cartel’s the only ones that have carved a corridor between the two cities. It runs along the west side of Picacho Peak.”

“Hmmm,” The Governor began to regain his composure and sat back to enjoy his stogie, “And Mesa? Any word from David?”

“Ah, yes, seems they got word the Warlord of Winslow was successful in his expedition. If the reports are correct, he dealt with one of the, and I’m quoting the report directly here, sir. ‘Karl accepted and completed a challenge from one Pestilence, Horseman of the Apocalypse’.”

The Governor pulled the cigar in his mouth out slowly and looked at Allison with wide eyes, “What?”

“Yes, exactly. I queried my AI on this, he says the System places challenges drawn from dominant cultural lore to further pressure the populations of newly integrated planets. I suspect the purpose of which is two fold. One, see how we act under stress, and two, weed out the weakest of our number further.”

“Ok, so he killed one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?”

“No, he made a deal with Pestilence. Pestilence is now governing Show Low in the Warlords name. There’s apparently a mixed population of humans and… yeah, dark elves fixing up the place. Despite spending several weeks under the oppression of demons and undead, a couple thousand people survived.”

“Dark Elves?”

“Our name for them, not theirs, theirs is unpronounceable to us.”

The governor rubbed his head in his hands, “Anything else?”

“Ah, yes, we should expect a visit from the Warlord in the next week, probably less.”

“Great. Just. Fucking. Great. What does David plan to do?”

Allison smiled a little, “Well, he’s going to do what Payson does. You know the pair have formed a reciprocal relationship. Mesa farms, Payson provides lumber and other materials. It’s already been indicated that Payson has a close relationship with a group of refugees they refer to as ‘dryads’. It appears that Karl, the Warlord, has impregnated the King’s daughter.”

Governor Smits looked at his intelligence head like she’d grown a third eye. “How the fuck is that even possible?”

“Mmmm, I’ll upload the files for you, she’s apparently half Dryad, and half Siren. Apparently, Siren’s are considered human for anatomy purposes, they just gain some special abilities related to emotional manipulation.”

Smits studied the information she sent over for several silent moments, “You think he’s compromised?”

Allison shifted in her seat, smoothed her skirt, then responded, “No, based on what I can determine through the System about his advanced class, Merciless Reaper of the Foolish, it gets significant bonuses against mental dominance. No, if anything, I think he’s indifferent to her abilities. Checking into his pre-System social media presence, we would have labeled him as racist and misogynistic. A potential domestic terror threat, only because he continued believing in the America that was, not what it was becoming. The truth is, he’s a traditionalist. And stubborn. So, no, if anything, she’s a positive influence on his decision making processes.”

Governor Smits chewed on the end of his quickly diminishing cigar. “Okay, so when he gets here, if that asshole James hasn’t steamrolled us, how do you suggest I deal with him?”

Allison stared out the window behind the big man, when she refocused her gaze on the Governor she could only offer simple advice, “Don’t piss him off. If he sees you as one of his own, he’ll tear apart the world to protect you. If he sees you as a threat. Well, you saw what happened to the Mayor of Flagstaff and everyone that supported her.”

Governor Smits somehow managed to collapse further into his chair with a weary sigh, “Fuck me.”

Allison stood up to leave the office, “Indeed.” I don’t suspect you’ll have long to live either way Governor.

Karl Brunette, Merciless Reaper of the Foolish, enroute to SooHoo Military Outpost

Pestilence appeared shortly after I had defeated the Lich, eager to finalize the deal we had agreed to. For a long tense moment I didn’t respond while I considered shooting him in the face. Eventually I relented to my better judgement. The way I looked at it, the man was a tool of the System, a thing I was slowly growing animosity towards. He didn’t choose to be here and imperil thousands of people. But he was still a tool, much like the guns on my hips and under my shoulders. They don’t choose to kill people, I choose to kill people with them.

Pestilence was in the same boat. Now having served his purpose I could drive him off in another pitched battle, or I could take that tool and use it myself. So eventually, as I said, I relented to his request to become the administrator of Show Low in my name.

Albert pulled me to the side and stated he’d stay on as Show Low’s sheriff and keep an eye on the embodiment of one of Earth’s Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. People began to emerge from hidey holes and other places where they’d hid while the world around them turned into an undead nightmare. Many of Keeg’s own people were amongst the survivors, which made the stoic Dark Elf happy.

It seemed that many had escaped the destruction of the Walmart and the gruesome death of the Deer Lady by fleeing into the surrounding hills and woods. They hid there til the skies cleared and slowly made their way back to the now exposed keep in the center of town.

Carly recognized some of the younger survivors and was conversing with them while Stephen stood by himself atop the keep, staring out towards the south.

“You good?” I asked him as I leaned against the parapet wall facing the opposite direction that he was.

He looked at me for a long moment, then turned his gaze back south, “Yeah. I’m not gonna check out like Alyssa did. You ain’t gotta trounce me through the streets.”

A slim smile began to form before he schooled his face and suppressed his emotions.

“You sure, I’ve been curious how I fare against your particular style of magic.”

He released a strained chuckle before responding, “Heh, yeah, might cause you some problems. But I’m good.”

I stared at him for a long moment before he relented further, “I’m good, Karl. I.. When do we go to Phoenix? Her parents and sisters lived in Chandler. I need to see if I can find them, let them know what happened.”

I looked over my shoulder at the slowly assembling mass of people, survivors. “I think we’re done here, meet in the square in five and we’ll be off. Gonna be a long walk.”

I pushed off the wall and headed for the stairs down when I heard him call out behind me, “Walk? I’ve got a bike parked on the outskirts of town, walking’s for suckers!”

When I reached the bottom of the building I found Keeg waiting to speak with me outside.

“What’s up, Keeg?”

He looked at me nervously, then dropped to one knee, head bowed before me, “I owe you a debt, Master Karl. My people yet exist because of your actions. I can never pay that debt in full. So…” I started to protest when he drew his sword and held it out to me with both hands.

By the time this happened I noticed that all of his people present had dropped to one knee, heads bowed in deference. The human survivors stepped back, unsure of what they were witnessing, few barely knew who I was or what I was doing. Only that my team and I had defeated the horrors that had been plaguing their lives for the last month or so.

“I, Keeg, Paladin of Mork the Avenger, pledge my sword and shield to you for the rest of my days, so long as you should require use of it.”

I looked around awkwardly, sensing the solemnity of the moment. Somehow I knew that as soon as I accepted his oath, the System would make it binding. That made me somewhat uncomfortable. It wasn’t something I asked for, nor demanded. But the man was giving it freely, did I really deserve it?

I reached out and took the blade gingerly from his hands and inspected it, not knowing what to do or what to say, I turned the pommel back to him, “I accept.”

Keeg took the sword, stood and raised it in the air. A bolt of white hot lightning streaked in from a clear sky to strike the tip with a thunderclap that caused a hitch in everyone’s breath. The air tingled with electricity that jumped harmlessly from person to person before swirling around us, then it shot back up into the blue sky like it had never existed.

A pledge of fealty has been offered and accepted! Keeg, Paladin of Mork the Avenger has sworn his allegiance to Karl Brunette, Merciless Reaper of the Foolish.

Congratulations! You have gained a new title: Pledge Holder

Keeg raised his sword to his face and pressed his forehead against the flat of the blade, “My liege.”

I placed a hand on his shoulder in return, “Say your goodbyes, it’s time to hit the road.”

Keeg’s people embraced him with smiles, true happiness on their faces after so long without. Albert walked up after the impromptu ceremony with a quirky half smile on his face.

“You aren’t going to get all ceremonial on me too, now are you!?”

“God no. I’m my own man. Just figured you’d want these back.” He reached out and handed me back my AK with its self filling magazines, and the bulky heavy plasma machine gun. I’m not going to lie, it felt good to have my heavy artillery back in my hands, though I was becoming more accustomed to getting in close and dirty. Still, options were a good thing to have.

“So what now?

The older man looked around at the people gathered, “Well, first I’m going to find some more ammo for Francine here. Then I’m going to go give Henry a proper burial. Then, you know, take care of these people and keep an eye on that fishy guy you left in charge.”

“Fair enough, take care Albert.”

After that conversation, I rounded up my party, sent a message to Johnny to send a truck to pick us up and began the long march home. We’d just reached the point where Stephen had dumped his bike when a grey blur barrelling over the horizon caught my attention. I braced as a ball of fur, claw, and slobber slammed into me like a mac truck, pinning me to the ground.

I laughed as Kaia’s large tongue soaked my face with slobber. We wrestled for several minutes before the sound of a Ford truck crunching across the gravel pulled up with a driver I hadn’t recognized.

“Uh, you Karl?” The young man yelled out at us.

“Hahaha! Yeah, Keeg, Carly, there’s your ride! I’ll meet you back home!”

The pair confirmed my direction as they jumped in the truck, then it peeled away at best speed. A moment later the sound of the Indian’s exhaust starting barked across the road as Stephen left me and Kaia to play in the desert. When we finished our greeting I sat up scratching behind his big ear.

“Alright, take me back to my woman.”