Now

Shira advanced carefully, like a leopard stalking its prey. They were low to the ground and moved in a shrinking semi-circular pattern.

Caretaker watched their teammate carefully. A sword and shield in their hands, as Honor had called them. The weapons were battle ready fresh from the fabricator’s machine. They didn’t understand Honor’s insistence on their learning to use such archaic weaponry. They felt foolish at having to scour historical records of the long-past days of the barbarism of their forebears for bits of knowledge on how such things were wielded.

Another two days of training from Honor, who himself didn’t claim to be anything more than an amateur in their usage, didn’t leave Caretaker with any confidence in the sparring match, as Honor had called it, with Shira.

Honor had explained his reasoning, but Caretaker was having difficulty seeing it. Surely, projectile weaponry was superior to melee. There was no reason to close with the enemy when you had the capability to defeat it from a distance. Outworld invasive organisms tended to be limited to melee range. Advanced weaponry was the Threnosh’s advantage.

Shira was one of the few exceptions. They had already displayed why they were so deadly at close range, especially when they had fresh blood.

Caretaker’s predictive algorithm overlaid a ghostly image of Shira, showing the highest probability move that they were going to make. They fell a step into a stance, shield in front of them, blade pulled back ready to thrust.

Shira reacted to this move and the ghostly image shifted.

Caretaker moved again in response.

Shira suddenly stopped. Their eyes narrowed behind the lenses of their terrifying face-plate. They sprang without warning.

A warning chimed to Caretaker, auditory and visual, it told them exactly what they needed to do. They followed the instructions almost unconsciously.

Slashing claws sparked off the surface of the large, round, bare metal shield.

A sword was parried away by a bladed gauntlet.

Sharp-clawed toes raked across an armored back.

Back and forth they went. The smaller figure in the matte black power armor was ever the aggressor. The other with sword and shield moved frantically. There was no smoothness to the taller Threnosh’s movements even if they were able to just avoid taking major damage.

Shira suddenly blurred.

Caretaker’s predictive algorithm knew what to do and communicated it to the Threnosh. Unfortunately, they were just too slow to react. Even if they knew what their opponent was going to do, they were still physically incapable of moving quickly enough.

The sword was slapped out of their grip. The shield was hopelessly out of position.

Shira held one clawed hand around Caretaker’s armored throat, the other was deathly still just in front of their face. A hunger burned in Shira’s eyes.

Caretaker had lost.

“You have defeated me in this sparring,” Caretaker said.

Shira remained silent, not relinquishing their grip for several long seconds as they stared into Caretaker’s eyes.

Loud clapping broke the strange moment. “Wow! That was great,” Cal said from his spot on the side of the practice area. “Very impressive from both of you. Caretaker, how is the new exoskeleton you bought from the spire?”

Caretaker slid a small panel on the underside of his gauntlet open and pressed a series of buttons. The information appeared on their transparent face-plate. “Functional strength is at 2.5 times baseline. Speed at 1.25 times baseline. Added armor is responsible for the negative 0.75 loss of speed. Battery is at 75 percent.”

“How did the sword and board feel?”

Caretaker paused. They chose their word with care. “Unwieldy.”

“Well, you can try different weapons. I’ve got Riverport making different stuff. Halberds, spears, poleaxes, regular axes, different swords,” Cal said. “Shira, what’s your blood usage look like.”

“Stores are down to 20 percent.”

“That’s a lot, but against monsters you’d be filling it up as you fight, so that’s a huge upgrade. Good choice picking up the integrated blood storage system.”

“It is still limited. The blood will remain viable in storage for only one planetary rotation.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe we can set something up where you carry a couple of small animals with you when out on a quest. My nieces would be horrified.” Cal said the last bit under his breath. “Alright, next demonstration will be Primal and his new toy.”

Cal reached out with his telekinesis and grabbed an enormous board. It was about the size of a small bedroom wall and was made of two layers. The front portion was five inches of wood, while the backing had the same thickness in metal. Fabricator Riverport 11725 had given him a strange look when he had asked for the target to be made.

He floated it into position near a back wall, which was out of the way.

“Ready, Primal?”

“Are you certain about this, Honor? There is nothing to keep it standing in place.”

“I’ll hold it up.”

“Very well.”

Inside their massive power armor, Primal moved into position about twenty feet away from the makeshift target. “Opening fire.” The stomach plates slide open to reveal twenty one thick and stubby gun barrels in three horizontal rows of seven. There was loud ripping sound as projectiles streamed out of the barrels. In less than a second the wooden wall-sized target was shredded, while the metal behind was pockmarked like a moon’s surface.

Cal checked the wall in the distance behind the target. “Impressive, I do believe none of the rounds missed.”

“Each barrel has limited movement capability. At this range that is the smallest space I can direct fire into.”

“How many rounds?”

“Two-hundred ninety-four. Seven in each barrel and seven more in the chamber behind.”

“And you shot them all at once.” Cal rubbed his chin. “Can you control how much you shoot?”

“Yes, but all barrels must fire together. However, I will be able to purchase further upgrades to this weapon system from the… spire.”

Cal took it as progress that more of the Threnosh were picking up his terminology, even if they sounded like they were chewing on glass. Honestly, spire was such a better term than god hair. Although, he supposed that wasn’t the Threnosh’s fault, but rather a product of the automatic translation system’s shortcomings.

“How are the rounds propelled?”

“Magnetic acceleration.”

“The ammunition is limited, but it does address your close combat issues. Overall a good choice,” Cal said. “Frequency, you’re up.”

This time Cal floated a large square shaped object covered by a silvery sheet. It reminded him of those emergency blankets. A memory of playing Princess Rayna and the Star Force with his little sister popped into his head. The object abruptly dropped a few feet with the distraction. An angry sounding growl emanated from underneath the covering.

Cal lowered it a dozen feet or so in front of the nervous looking Frequency.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, Designation: Honor.”

The Threnosh’s speech was definitely becoming easier to understand.

“Okay.” Cal pulled the sheet off with a thought.

He revealed a large cage. Thick bars contained a miniature dragonbear. Oh it was still big, the size of black bear instead of the Kodiak brown bear-sized ones the Threnosh had fought.

After Cal had killed the alpha dragonbears he had searched the area while waiting for the team to emerge from the spire. He had found a small litter of cubs. He felt a little bad about it, but he killed them all, but one. He figured it’d be good for research. Besides they had immediately attacked him on sight, so screw the little monsters. It’s not like they were part of the natural world anyways. They were unnatural creatures brought by the spires in their weird apocalypse. Like a sadistic GM populating their world with things to make the adventure more exciting for the players.

Frequency raised both arms directly toward the caged dragonbear cub. A loud sound suddenly emanated from the speaker-like devices on their power armor.

Cal winced. He’d describe it as someone raking their nails across an old style chalkboard, the green kind, but on a continuous loop. Very unpleasant for him. He glanced at the Threnosh next to him, but none shared the same reaction. Of course. Their auditory sensors probably had an automatic feature built in to protect them. They were currently just as deaf as Frequency was outside of their power armor.

The effect on the dragonbear was instantaneous. The monster roared and thrashed inside its cage. It clawed and bit at the bars in a frenzy.

Frequency’s speakers simply continued to vibrate and send out the sonic attack.

Twenty seconds passed and the dragonbear had ceased all movement. Blood poured out from its nostrils and ear holes. It’s breathing stopped shortly after.

“Ouch.” Cal opened and closed his jaw several times. “My ears are going to ring for the rest of the day.”

“Apologies, Designation: Honor,” Frequency said. “I did not intend to affect anyone else.”

“You can just call me Honor, like I’ve said and its not your fault, my hearing’s a bit more sensitive than the norm… for my species. So, why don’t you tell me what you did?”

“I recalled the words you stated about sounds that can be used as attacks, so I also purchased a list of combat-specific frequencies. This one is meant to damage internal organs within biological lifeforms.”

“I noticed it took some time to work. That might be difficult when the monster isn’t restrained,” Cal said.

“That is correct. I have other sounds that I believe can be utilized in conjunction to make it and myself more effective on the battlefield. I also purchased the basic operating guide for my trueskin. Further study will improve my performance.

Cal eyed the dead dragonbear. “Looks very promising. We’ll keep practicing and experimenting.” He telekinetically covered the cage in the sheet once again and moved it out of the way. “Alright, last but not least. Kynnro.”

The Threnosh’s form-fitting power armor’s sleek profile was marred by the backpack-like rectangular container attached to their back. A tube ran from the bottom left of the hard pack to a bulky attachment over the gauntlet of the left arm. This wasn’t the only change. The small concave emitter on their helmet’s forehead somehow looked even more high tech.

Kynnro moved out into the center of the practice area and turned to face the opposite direction from where the others were standing watch. They raised their left hand and a stream of gray shot out. At about thirty feet away the stream bloomed out into a wide cloud.

“Looks like an ash cloud,” Cal said.

“What will that accomplish?” Primal was incredulous.

“Particulate matter in certain types of ash clouds can cause great damage to the respiratory systems of biological organisms,” Caretaker said.

“That is correct, but the invasive organisms we face are more robust than the natural organisms of our planet.”

Caretaker was about to say something else when the sound of Kynnro’s laser took the words away.

The pencil-thin red beam flashed briefly as it shot into the ash cloud. Almost instantaneously the cloud erupted into fire. It grew in size as the explosion consumed the particles that Kynnro had sprayed out of the mechanism on their gauntlet.

The heat washed over Cal’s face as he stood stunned for a moment. “Very impressive. Alright, so for the rest of day why don’t you—”

“Apology, Designation: Honor,” Kynnro said hesitantly, “I still have one improvement to display.”

“Oh, sure, go ahead.”

“I will need your aid.”

“Yeah, what do you need me to do?”

“Please move the target,” they pointed at the tattered free-standing wall from Primal’s demonstration.”

“How far?”

“All the way to the end of the chamber.”

Cal raised his brows. That was almost a hundred and fifty feet away. He shrug and did as asked. The metal and wood wall floated the distance under his telekinetic power until it came to rest against the practice chamber’s far wall.

Kynnro turned and quickly walked to the opposite side of the chamber.

“Please do not move.” Kynnro’s voice was clear over the distance thanks to the speaker in their helmet. “Firing now.”

As soon as the words left their mouth, a bright red light illuminated the large chamber. The laser beam that shot from their emitter was still thin. The difference was in the intensity of the light it put out.

Cal found himself blinking away the spots in his vision.

“I am finished.”

Cal pulled the wall back as the other Threnosh looked on intently.

“That weapon will accomplish much,” Primal said.

In the metal portion of the wall was a smoking hole. Five inches of metal that put to shame anything possible on Earth and Kynnro’s improved laser burned through it in less than a second.

Cal looked to the chamber wall. “Not even a mark?”

“This laser has a limit on its range that it cannot go beyond. I do not understand how it functions. The… spire… did not provide clarification,” Kynnro said.

“Yeah, it does that a lot,” Cal said. “Anyways. Kynnro, what are the drawbacks?”

“The ashen cloud is limited by the substance within the pack. Instructions on how to create it were included. The empowered laser drains my trueskin’s energy. Immediately after firing I can do no more than move for five minutes. Limited offensive capability follows until full recharge.”

“How long will that take?”

“A single planetary revolution if my trueskin is completely powered down.”

“Maybe we can get an external battery system to provide power just for the laser,” Cal said. “Why don’t you do that? Kynnro, get together with the fabricator and the engineer. See what they can do about manufacturing that ash substance and the battery for your laser. I’ll send an order to their PID’s as soon as we’re done here. The rest of the day is going to be about more practice. Primal, I want you in practice chamber number two. Get familiar with your guns. Know exactly how wide and narrow your spread is.”

“What am I to target? The wall?” The tone in Primal’s voice betrayed a level of frustration.

“Way ahead of you,” Cal said. “I’ve got a couple of those walls already set up.”

“Frequency, you’re in the outdoor practice field. I’ll bring several different types of objects for you to experiment on. Try out all your new sounds.” Cal turned to Shira and Caretaker. “Use that thing to fill up,” he directed the former to the dead dragonbear cub. The two of you are going to spar.” He looked at the clock on his PID. “Three hours then a break for sustenance, after which we’ll have class time. I’ll also be going around to watch, maybe give some suggestions if you want it. We’ve only got two more days until the end of your first week. I want to try a tougher task at the end of it. We need the points. Think of how much stronger you can get.”

Then

“Mr. Del Campo,” Cal began.

“Tomas or Tom is fine, I just wanted to thank you. Those two, the cop and the soldier, said that without you I would’ve been still stuck with those racist assholes.”

Cal studied the older man. He had an emaciated look to him. His cheeks looked sucked in and the dark bags under his eyes seemed to swallow them in shadow. Dirty clothes hung loosely on a thin frame. From the looks of him, Tomas Del Campo used to be a heavy man before the apocalypse started.

“You’re welcome, so how’d it go in there.” Cal nodded at the community center. “Got a good deal, like I told you?”

Tom gave Cal a wan smile. “Sure did. I make ammunition and I get a place to myself, food and drink, whatever I want, within reason.”

“Good to hear. So, I’ve got some questions. If you have the time?”

“Yeah, I’m waiting on an escort to my new home and I owe you so, shoot.”

“How does it work? How come the only ammo that works are the ones that you… made?”

“I can’t really explain it. All I’m basically doing is reloading the ammo,” Tom shrugged.

“Take me through it.”

“I start with a round. I take it apart. The bullet, the case, the primer and the powder. I do it nineteen more times. The powder goes in a bowl. The bullets, the cases, the primers I separate from each other and mix up in their own bowls. Then I just reload them. Put the primer in the ass end of the case. Measured powder goes in the case. Then the bullet gets pressed into the case. Done.”

“Twenty at a time?” Cal studied Tom. “No, that’s a limit isn’t it? You can only do twenty… a day?”

“Can’t explain it. After I make twenty I’m wiped out. Reminds me of how I felt after two-a-days way back in high school.”

“Last question,” Cal said. “I’m guessing you went into the spire.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?”

Cal nodded. “And this ability to make, reload ammo to make them work is part of the class you got.”

“Gunsmith… that’s what that… spire guy… showed me. I got the impression there was other stuff I might be able to do with more of those points. Those assholes kept me locked up making them ammo, so I didn’t get a chance to find out.”

Cal smiled. “Well, now you’ve got that shot. Speaking of which, I figure you’re a pretty good shot if you got that class.”

Tom chuckled. “I’m pretty decent. A gunsmith that don’t shoot ain’t going to do good business.”

“The watch could use a good shooter. I’ll let them know that you want in on their patrols and hunting parties. After you get some rest and your strength back of course.”

“You think the council would be okay with that?”

“Making ammo is important, but you need points if you’re going to be able to make more than twenty rounds a day. Who knows what you could end up being capable of. Since this bullshit apocalypse is like a game, I’d bet you just need enough points before you can start making new or more powerful guns and ammo.” Cal reached out with his hand. “Good to have you, Tom.”

The older man shook if firmly, despite how weak he looked with the way the skin hung off his arms.

“I just need a good meal and some sleep. I promise I’ll be ready to earn my keep. I still owe you. If you’re right about my being able to make better things. I’ll save my first one for you. I was raised to never forget my debts.”

“I don’t think you owe me. It’s the least a decent person should do if they’re capable.” Cal grinned. “But… I will take you up on that offer.”

“I’m sure you understand that what we ask of you is in the best interests of the community as a whole.”

The smile plastered on the councilwoman’s face was as fake as her high cheekbones, her thick lips and the smoothness of her skin. One look at the wrinkles on her neck told Cal the true story.

“The council believes that closer ties between you and your brothers with the watch can only benefit everyone involved.”

You mean you want to order me around. Make sure I’m watching over the right neighborhoods, Cal thought, but didn’t say.

How to respond. He looked at the speaker, Devon Castleton. He had seen her undoubtedly expensive face on Remy’s fridge door. The premier real estate agent for the area. What she was doing on the newly reconstituted city council? He didn’t know.

He looked at the other council members. Some of their names escaped him and he didn’t know enough to form an opinion. The ancient looking guy was a long-retired political figure in the city or so he was told.

He looked over to the side where his brother, Remy and his sister-in-law, Megan. They occupied chairs just off the council dais. The former rolled his eyes, while the latter was trying to send some sort of message to Cal with her laser-like stare.

Ah, Cal thought, don’t be a dick. It was a tough ask, but he’d try.

Cal cleared his throat and gripped the podium lightly as he leaned into the microphone. “Good evening. Esteemed council people. Brave citizens,” he addressed the gathered crowd. “Um… no,” he said flatly.

The silence at his words seemed to stretch on for a long time. Until Councilwoman Devon finally recovered.

“Surely, you see that it makes more sense to work with us, than going around completely on your own recognizance?”

“Well, Devon,” Cal said lightly. “I must respectfully disagree. I need to be free to respond to the most dangerous threats that… threaten this community.”

“We’d make sure that nothing would impact your ability. That’s the whole point.” A genial-looking councilman, whose name Cal didn’t remember, chimed in.

“Except you would,” Cal said. “Let me paint you a picture. You order me to, say, watch over a specific area. So, I’m doing that. Then I get alerted of some kind of super monster, attacking somewhere else. What then? Do I wait for orders while people die? No, what I need to do is respond to the threat as soon as I know it’s there.”

“Of course, there would be provisions for you to act under your own judgment. As long as it benefits the community.” Devon tried to smile to the rest of the citizenry gathered in the large room.

“So, what’s the point of me being under your command if it’s just nominal,” Cal said.

“It sends the right message to our scared populace that there is strong leadership in place,” Devon said through the rictus smile on her face.

“Hmm… sorry that sounds like politics and I’m not a fan of that sort of thing.” Cal smiled in an attempt to take the sting out of his word. “All you need to know is that I’ll be doing all I can to keep everyone safe, no exceptions, no favorites. It’s what I’ve been doing these past few months and I don’t intend to stop. Thanks and bye.” He didn’t need to try his telepathy to see how angry most of the council was. The looks on their faces made it clear enough.

Cal quickly turned and left. He ignored the council’s shouts as he strode for the door. The two shotgun bearing watch members at the door didn’t move. They simply gave him respectful nods in parting.

“Where’s Nila?”

“She needed a break,” Cal said. “By ‘break’, she’s probably lifting weights back at our new ‘home’.” He frowned. “Still feels wrong living in a place that belonged to dead people. We don’t even go into the bedrooms. Sleep in the living room, eat in the kitchen, workout in the garage and backyard.”

“I didn’t think she was into weightlifting,” Remy said.

“She did a bit, but she was more into yoga. Weight training was an on and off thing for her. You know, like three weeks to a month regularly, then she’d fall off for like three months. I guess she just needed the right motivation.”

“Enhanced Physiology,” Remy nodded. “Makes sense that she’d want to maximize that. Monsters makes for good motivation, who knew.”

Cal laughed bitterly. “Powers and monsters. Subject us to terror, but give us the means to fight back. We’re forced to fight to stay safe.”

“It does seem to promote putting oneself into dangerous situations if one wants more power to ostensibly keep them safer from the monsters.” Remy shared Cal’s grimace. “Paradox. An illusion of safety. I wish Megan was more willing to… buy in, I guess you’d say.”

“She’s still hoping that things will go back to normal?”

Remy nodded. “At least she’s willing to go out and hunt mutant squirrels and birds.”

“That’s something. It’s good for her to practice her magic missile.”

“If only,” Remy sighed. “She’ll use it once or twice on our hunts, but refuses to otherwise.”

“Ah… I figured.”

“Makes her tired.”

Cal shook his head. “Have you tried telling her it might be like a muscle that needs exercising to get stronger?”

“Yup, she says it’s not remotely the same.”

“I suppose it’s only a theory at this point,” Cal conceded.

The brothers fell into a companionable silence as they patrolled the dark streets surrounding Martin Luther King Jr. High School. The only sounds were their footsteps on the road, the mutant rodent on mutant bird violence in the darkened trees and the slight jingling of the chains wrapped around Remy’s arms.

“So, about the council meeting…”

“Aw, c’mon Rem… it’s like I said what they want is basic lip service, political bullshit and I’m not all about that. Spent over ten years working around political types and now that I have the ability to tell them to fuck off,” Cal cleared his throat, “more politely, of course. Then I’m going to do it.”

“Just think about playing along. Like you said, it doesn’t make a difference in real terms.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Cal raised a brow.

“Basically,” Remy shrugged. “It keeps Megan happy… well, happier. She hasn’t had much to be happy about lately. The council gets to pretend to be in charge, but everyone knows I can pretty much do whatever I want.”

“So, when they tell you to guard their houses… what do you do?”

Remy frowned. “C’mon man you know me better than that. I wouldn’t put their needs over more important matters.”

“It’s going to happen eventually. People with status, power, wealth, they all use them to their advantage over those without.”

“What about us? We won the power lottery and aren’t we doing just that?”

“Hmm,” Cal thought a moment, “yeah, pretty much. The difference is I’m not going to start thinking I’m fundamentally better than others just because I got lucky or the spires blessed me or whatever. Meant what I said. I’m going to do what I can to help out and keep people safe.” He raised his arms to the darkness. “Hence, this constant patrolling and monster killing.” He paused. “Speaking of which. I sense something over there. Around the corner.” He pointed down the dark street with the high school to the left.

Remy gaze instantly snapped to that direction. “What is it?”

“Hunger and malice,” Cal sighed. “What else?”

Remy let out a long breath. “Fuck this apocalypse.”

The two brothers rounded the corner and were brought to skidding halt by what they saw.

Dozens of human-sized gremlins streamed over the chain link fence.

Cal placed his lantern on the ground and took a pair of road flares from the small pack at his back. “Ready?”

Remy fumbled around in the square leather container at his belt for a moment before pulling out a handful of small objects. “Yeah, but shouldn’t we let people know about this.”

“No time,” Cal said hurriedly. He lit both flares and threw them into the two dozen gremlins. One sailed past the monsters, while the other landed closer, bracketing them in an eerie red light. “Go!”

“Damn it.” Remy’s hand shook, but he threw the small clump of things at the gremlins.

It was a handful of basic construction nails. The kind that went into cheap furniture. The steel seemed to glitter in the dark as the tiny things rocketed directly into the mass of gremlins.

The closest ones snarled in shock and pain at the piercing projectiles that stabbed into their grotesque, hairless bodies. Oddly enough the ones not hit simply melted away into the darkness toward the abandoned houses on the opposite side of the street.

“Not bad. You’re like a certain magical railgun, budget version.”

“Scientific,” Remy said.

Cal arched a brow at Remy.

“What?” He shrugged. “Tessa likes the anime.”

“Right, ‘Tessa’.” Cal brandished his trusty camping ax. “Try not to hit me in the back.”

Cal charged the charging gremlins. He ran closer to the school-side of the residential street. This gave Remy a clear lane to magnetically fire more nails. He bashed a gremlin in the head with an overhead strike. The ax blade bit deep and pulverized bone and brain.

A gremlin slashed at Cal’s face. He batted it aside with his forearm. The claws scratched, but didn’t penetrate the surface of his recently appropriated, black motorcycle jacket’s kevlar fabric. He nearly decapitated the monster with his back swing.

“Remy!” Cal raised his voice. “Why are the rest of them running away?”

“Busy right now!”

Remy flailed about with the extended chains that had been wrapped around his arms. It looked very dangerous to both him and the gremlins. However the chains only struck the gremlins, never him, even when their paths headed directly for him, they’d always miss or deflect in a different direction.

As Cal chopped the gremlins like ugly little trees sudden stabs of pain lanced his brain. For a split-second he thought it was an errant shot from Remy. He realized it was something else just as quickly. Hunger and malice from many sources. He sensed it with his telepathy, which was a surprise because he wasn’t actively searching.

“Fu—”

A gremlin took advantage of Cal’s distracted state and slashed him. He felt the sting as thin red lines appeared on his face. The only thing that saved his eyes was reflex. Good thing, because he was pretty sure that they weren’t as tough as his skin.

The gremlin went in for a bite, but Cal elbowed its face in.

“Remy! More gremlins!”

“Huh?” Remy choked his last gremlin with an extended chain. “What’re you talking about?”

“They’re coming out of the other three sides.”

“Of the school?”

“Yes!”

“How many?” Remy’s eyes widened.

“It felt the same as here. So, like eighty, a hundred total. Not sure.”

“What do we do?”

“You call it in. Tell our family. Then the watch. Tell them to pull their patrols in. They’ll be overwhelmed by these numbers.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Going hunting.”

Remy pulled out a walkie-talkie as Cal ran into the darkness.