Steven was ambivalent towards children. They were fine, cute even, so long as they stayed at a distance and didn’t burst into tears for no reason. Or scream on an airplane, or- Maybe ambivalent is the wrong word.

With that in mind, Steven wasn’t certain how he got stuck entertaining a gang of small children.

Tom hung from a Hand-Shield, his feet dangling about six inches off the ground with a massive grin on his face.

Lacey, and a third kid, Sam, also hung off shields, their little hands holding on tight.

In the kitchen, Margie and Micheal talked with Ron, Ella, and Markus.

Which had somehow left Steven as the temporary babysitter. The kids had pestered Steven to show them what he could do, so he did.

He wasn't sure how that had spiraled into a contest of who could hang the longest, but here he was.

Lacey puckered her lips and started blowing at Tom.

He squirmed. “Stop it! That's cheating!”

She scoffed. “Is not! Air doesn't affect your grip!”

“Distracting!” Was his eloquent counter.

Steven smiled. Well, they were entertaining, so maybe ambivalent was the right word.

Buford trundled over, tail wagging and a doggy grin firmly in place.

The children stared at him. Steven could see the same train of thought in three heads. “I wanna pet that dog, but I don’t want to lose.“

Buford wagged harder and did his best to look adorable. He leaned against Steven’s side and let out a low wine.

Wow, the dog wasn’t holding anything back.

Tom broke. He dropped from the shield and immediately started petting the dog.

Buford wagged so hard his tail made a steady “swish swish“ through the air.

With the stigma of being the first to drop gone, the other two quickly followed and ganged up on the dog.

Steven scratched the dog’s back and then went to join the others. “Thanks, buddy. You take over for a while.“

Margie grinned as he approached. “Who won their contest? “

He rubbed his chin. “Pretty sure Lacey did. Though Tom was the first one to pet the hound, so there could be an argument that he’s the real winner.“

Margie smiled, her eyes wrinkling as she stared at the sight.

Her expression darkened a moment later as she turned back to the others.

“Do we do this today or tomorrow?“

Markus scratched his mustache. “The trail cams managed to catch three people inside. That brings their count to a definite six. They outnumber us, but I have a plan for that.”

Micheal arched a brow. “Oh? Do share.”

Markus smiled. “It’s a little underhanded, but hey, a little gorilla warfare never hur—well, that’s not true.” He shook his head. “Regardless, I want to pull something underhanded.”

They leaned in, and as Markus explained his plan, Steven felt a knot form in his gut.

~<>~<>~

Planning an ambush was nerve-racking. Steven couldn’t say he had had experience in it before, but he already wasn’t a fan.

His hands were clammy in his lap, and his foot tapped a steady rhythm against the car floor.

He checked his character sheet for the fourth time.

Tempered Hand-Shield (max)

Effects: materialize up to 3 stationary shields the size of the castors hand (+25% strength)

Traits: absorbent: all buffing effects are 30% more effective. If a buff would increase shield count, add an additional shield.

Range: 20 feet

Duration: 10 minutes

Energy use: small

Cooldown: none

Augment: 3/3

Compass Push

Shield Pull

Paci-Fist

Markus‘s plan was simple. They were going to wait for one of the Red Hand to leave the mall, and then they would jump them.

Since Markus had set cameras up last night, he’d seen one of the Red Hand come and go on regular walks every three hours.

Markus tailed him earlier today, and the man’s walking path took him far enough from the mall that he wouldn’t be able to call for help.

Which brought Steven to the side of the road, his car parked as he waited for their unsuspecting victim to arrive.

His gut churned, and his foot tapped faster. This gang had already tried to kill someone. He knew that.

He was being irrational!

Tap tap tap.

And it wasn’t like they would murder the guy in cold blood. Steven was using Paci-Fist to knock him out.

But just attacking someone?

Ambushing them?

Every fight Steven had was in a contest or started by someone else. To throw that first punch, to attack someone felt …wrong.

He took a deep breath.

Time crawled, and each second he sat in the rapidly cooling car felt longer than the last. His focus locked on the road as his foot pounded away.

Tap tap tap.

Any minute now.

Tap tap tap.

Steven’s head began to throb.

He would come along the bend in the road, his hands in his pockets, and- a man walked around the bend.

Tall, with pale skin marked with freckles. He had plain features and wore a dark brown coat and a neon green beanie.

Steven immediately used identify.

Ren Fisher

Age: 28

Primary Bloodline: English

Nationality: British?

Thresholds passed: 1

Background: Ren is a real go-getter. The kind of guy who wants to impress his boss and be a team player. Fortunately for his bosses, he is far more concerned with doing a good job than with the legality or moral implications of the job.

Likes: golf

Dislikes: cats

His foot stilled. This was their guy.

Steven steeled himself and called a shield behind the man’s head.

Pressure built as his head continued to throb.

The others were waiting in cover and would burst out if anything went wrong. They had this.

Steven just needed to throw the first punch.

He clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white, then he pulled the shield towards him while using Compass Push and Shield Pull at the same time.

The shield didn’t hit the man like one of Steven’s punches. It hit the man like a punch thrown by Mike Tyson.

The shield slammed into the man with a sickening thud, covering the distance in a blink.

He dropped like a sack of bricks, and so did Steven.

Exhaustion rolled over him, more than he’d ever had from calling before, worse than Lumbering Tower-Shield!

He gasped for breath as his heart thumped and his stomach turned. And his Skills felt wrong. Distant in a way he didn’t understand.

That was, he- Steven breathed as deeply as he could as he slowly started sinking into his head.

It was fine. The man was still alive. He just needed to get over himself, and- and- his vision wavered, and his breakfast threatened to come up.

He scrambled out of the car, his rasping breaths fogging in the winter air.

The others moved in, but their words were a blur.

He was so tired.

He reached the man. His cheek was pressed against the ice as he lay motionless, but his chest rose and fell.

Send Ren Fisher to the System’s Fun Camp For Losers?

“Yes.”

The man vanished in a clap of green and blue light.

You have defeated Ren Fisher! Experience gained!

Steven swayed on his feet, his eyes unfocused as his thoughts struggled to latch onto something besides the awful feeling in his gut.

A steadying hand settled on his shoulder. He blinked up at Markus as the man stared down, concern in his blue eyes.

“You alright, son?”

Steven blinked and slowly shook his head. “I- something’s wrong.”

Margie rushed over and grabbed his face, looking him in the eyes like she was checking for a concussion.

“Did he get a Skill off on you? What hurts!?”

Steven shook his head in her grip. The exhaustion and sense of wrongness was slowly fading.

“I think it’s my Class.”

Margie blinked. “What?”

“My Purpose. It’s to defend others. In the contest-“ he took a deep breath. “I leaned into that, embraced it. And when I did, my Skills felt effortless, practically free. I think I just went against my Class's Purpose.”

They looked at him with varying levels of concern as he straightened. “It’s fading.”

“Are you okay to move on to the next step?” Markus asked.

Steven nodded, pushing his swirling emotions to the side, or at least he tried.

They roared up as if out of spite, overwhelming him, drowning him.

The feeling of the shields impact, two birch trees and a swing, his fathers comforting smile-

Steven fled from the thoughts, pulling frantically at his calm, clutching it to him like a shield.

His emotions stilled, smothered under the weight of his calm.

He met Markus’s eyes, his emotions blessedly still. “Send

Markus made a few gestures, and a prompt filled Steven’s vision.

The Old Timers Incorporated has issued a territory challenge against the Red Hand! They have 30 minutes to accept, or they will automatically lose the claim!

Steven frowned as Markus chuckled.

“I knew we were forgetting something,” the old man laughed harder. “Should have given us a new team name.”