Earth: New Game Plus - Chapter 5 - The Body and the Blood

Chapter 5 

 Sam gently disentangled herself from Sarah, leaving her roommate to sleep. After she also worked her way free of their sleeping cat and dog sharing the bed, Sam went back into the main room of the apartment.

There was a corpse.

Sam's head dropped and she grabbed the bushes of hair on either side of her head.

"Of course this couldn't be easy."

She stepped forward and touched the body.

Demon Possessed Minion: Killed by Sarah Anderson

You can loot this body; do you want to loot? Y/N

Sam gave a silent Y and looted the body. She got a passel of cop equipment, including the stun gun, the actual gun, and all of his equipment, apart from the baton she'd already taken from him.

Confronted with the naked corpse of a man turned into a demon and then butchered with a butcher's knife...

Sam took a minute. 

She spent that minute investigating her inventory.

It turned out to be an infinite slot-based inventory that stacked items. Her Moglin skins and sticks were already stacked in slots, while the items she looted from the demon cop were laid out at the end. It was clothes and equipment and nothing that really mattered. She steeled herself and turned back to face the corpse.

It was naked.

She gagged. She kept going.

The elbows had little horns on them. Horns? Spikes? He'd grown a little tail with a little barb on it. It was short and not cute. It had hair on it.

The pool of blood from where Sarah had mauled him to death with a cleaver had dried into a sticky red-brown paste.

"Okay. The body and the blood." 

Sam pulled herself to her feet, navigated the body, opened a cabinet, and pulled a handful of garbage bags from the far right hand cabinet. She tossed them toward the body and opened the cabinet under the sink, grabbing the bright yellow gloves.

"Sorry, Mr. Clean."

Last, she opened the silverware drawer and grabbed a pair of steak knives and a little sharp knife she didn't know what it was.

She put half a dozen bags under the body of the demon-cop and started with the little sharp knife. At every joint, she cut open the skin, the fat, the muscle (good thing the corpse was right next to the trash can; Sam vomited until it was just dry heaves), until she got down to the bone.  That's when she broke out the steak knives and started sawing at the tough stuff. When it got too hard, she broke down and grabbed the cleaver and hacked his limbs off.

His hands, his arms twice over, his legs likewise twice, and his head went in bags.

Sam reconsidered. 

She turned on the stove and opened the sliding glass door onto the porch, going into the bad closet where they put the stuff that can get dirty. She dragged out the tool box and took out a pair of pliers and a hammer.

Back inside she looked at the stove, glowing red hot, and went back out on the porch, grabbing a pair of wire cutters.

Once inside, it didn't take her long to realize the wire cutters couldn't snip off the ends of someone's fingers. Instead, she held the demon-cop's fingertips on the burner to remove his fingerprints, then held his hand on the stove and used the cleaver to carefully, heavily remove his fingertips. They all went in the garbage disposal. His hands, or most of them, went in their own bag.

With the body broken down and shoved in garbage bags (the torso was not disguised), Sam took a few seconds. Then she carried the bags out onto the porch and went back in to clean up what had come out of it.

The kitchen was a pool of dried blood. Sam grabbed the kitchen faucet and used its extension to bathe the floor in water. After a few minutes, the dry, sticky, brown-black mess was a sludge. Sam grabbed the paper towels off the roller above the sink and the trashcan in the corner... and went to work.

----

Fifteen minutes and two rolls of paper towels later and Sam had cleaned up the mess. Stage 1.

She walked into the laundry closet and grabbed the mop and bucket.

First she cleaned the floor again with mop and water, dumping the waste over the railing of their little balcony. Then she cleaned it again with soap and water, again dumping the waste over the railing. Then she mopped it with bleach (dump). Then she mopped it with ammonia (dump). Then she went outside and dumped bleach and ammonia over all of the shrubbery under their balcony. Then she went upstairs and inside, and put the mop and bucket away.

Sarah walked out of Sam's bedroom in her underwear rubbing her eyes. 

"Hey, you cooking bacon?"

She looked blearily around at the main room of the apartment, and her eyes fell on the trash bags that obviously contained the remains of the demon-cop.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

Sam cowered backward, stumbling and falling to the floor of the kitchen.

"Please?" 

Earth: New Game Plus - Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Prologue 

 

 It happened on a Thursday, around 3:15 Eastern Standard, US, on June 3. This was unfortunate for the Western Hemisphere, because they were awake. A lot of them were in cars or airplanes. The dark side of the planet was mostly asleep, so the loss of power and control didn't hit them so hard.

 Sam was in the back of an Uber on the way to work. The driver swore as he lost control of his car and slammed into the concrete barrier in the middle of the overpass they were driving across. He started rubbing the back of his neck, then started swearing more over his broken thumb. 

Sam picked her phone up off the floor of the car where she'd dropped it and frowned at the weird symbols it was displaying. She turned it off and got out of the car amid the mass honking. She absently rubbed her breast where the seat belt had bruised her.

The overpass gave her a clear view into the city.  It was a small city, but it had an arena and an airport... and now it had pillars of smoke and gouts of flame. She could see the remains of a plane stuck in the side of a building.

 With one hand on her neck, and the other on her breast, she turned in a circle and stared at the stopped cars.

 "What the fuck?" 

 

Chapter 1

Sam took a few deep breaths.

"I'm not going to make it to work today." She took out her cell phone, saw the dead signal and the weird symbols, and put it away. "Probably not many people going to be buying DVDs and cameras today, anyway. ... How do I get home?"

 Her Uber driver was still in the front seat, turning the key. The engine wasn't even clicking; whatever was happening had even killed the starter, as well as ... Sam's breath stopped. She hadn't even realized that those were planes. Airplanes fell from the sky into buildings.

She got dizzy. She staggered to the concrete wall in the middle of the overpass and fell to her knees. The world swam. She looked around in confusion.  She saw a middle aged woman struggling to open the rear door of a car.

Sam stood up and walked across the overpass; a man with a cut on his forehead was sitting outside a minivan. 

"Hey, I think she needs help." Sam pointed at the woman struggling to open the car door.

The man winced, squinted, and got up off the pavement. "Yeah. I think... yeah.".

Together, he and Sam made their way across a few untraveled lanes of overpass to the woman. 

"Can we help you?", Sam offered the woman her hand. The man put a hand to his head and struggled to maintain his balance.

The woman ducked her head. Her dark skin and hair made it clear even before she spoke. "Mis hijos. Tengo que ...", she moved away from the man, tall and white. 

"No, señora, esto es... es... no soy...". He kept his hand to his head. "Los hijos más. No sé. La puerta más."

His broken Spanish was as comforting as Sam's brown skin tone. The woman calmed and quieted, but they couldn't get the door open. Slamming into the car in front had bent the frame and it wouldn't open.

"Maybe the other side?", Sam suggested. 

The man nodded, wincing. "Otro lady. Lado. Otro lado." 

The woman sprinted to the other side of the car and the door opened easily. One of her children spilled out, a boy of four or five. The woman unstrapped her other child's, her daughter's, safety seat, taking the carrier from the back and crying in relief. Both of her children were also crying.

Sam winced. Getting in a car wreck was bad. The loud and shrill sound of crying children was worse. Covering one ear with her hand she tried to walk away. The man followed.

"Hey. My name's Matt."

"Sam." She continued to walk away from the noise.

"What's going on? I was in a car wreck."

"We all were. I think there was some kind of ... I don't know." Sam waved her hand at the disaster of a city. "It was a big thing. ... I think. I don't know.  It was big."

 Matt took in the smoke and the fires and the remnants of the airplane sticking out of the building. "Jesus."

 "Yeah, that guy." Sam rolled her shoulders and rubbed her chest. "I'm going home."

"Yeah." Matt nodded. "Good idea. I'll... shit. I live in Fountain Inn.".

Sam shrugged. "I live a half mile that way.", jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "All I can give you is a glass of water and some sympathy.". 

Matt gave her a rueful smile. "Of all the days  to..." he trailed off and gaped. "What the fuck is that guy doing?!"

Sam turned to see a gangly man in clothes worn greasy with unwashing rooting digging through a woman's purse as she moaned on the ground, bleeding from a headwound worse than Matt's.

"No." Sam stood and growled.

"No." Matt marched forward with Sam just behind him.

Sam paused. "Be careful." She put a hand to Matt's shoulder.

Divine Inspiration

You have granted Matt +1 Constitution

A scattering of screens covered Sam's vision and disappeared, and Matt gave a brief glow he walked toward the man robbing the woman.

"Hey! Asshole!" Somehow, Matt looked bigger than he had before.  "The fuck you think you're doing?!"

Sam struggled with the overwhelming input of a bunch of video game nonsense as Matt confronted the would-be thief. The skinny, pale, greasy, grimy little not-even-a-Pinkman ran off with empty hands, prompting Matt to turn around and puff his chest out a little.

"Not bad for an HR guy from Fountain Inn, I guess?" Then he paused as he saw Sam shaking her head. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know! It's all weird!"

You have unlocked class: Unfrocked Cleric

Do you want to accept this class? Yes/No

Sam shook her head but the words refused to leave. 

"Yes! Leave me alone! Yes!"

Suddenly, she felt strength surge through her.

Strength + 1

Wisdom +2  

Weapon skill: Blunt Weapons +1

Cleric skill: Divine Influence +1 

Sam nearly vomited. Matt knelt beside her, taking her hands in his. "Are you okay?"

Sam wormed along the ground, using her upright hand to wave at the air in front of her face. "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"

Matt tried to pat at the air near her, pulling his hands away. "I'm sorry! I don't know what to do!"

"Neither do I!"

Sam's head hit a car tire and her crawl stopped. She turned and put her head under the car.

"What's going on?! Are you okay?!" Matt had his hands on the side of the car.

"NO!" Sam couldn't see the darkness under the car because there were still screens in her face. She took a lot of deep breaths. "I think... I don't know." More deep breaths. "I think... I think maybe this is okay.".

Her vision, even with her eyes closed, even with her head shoved under a broken down car, was full of ... screens. Like pop-ups. She could sort them? She could move them around and minimize them; it was intuitive. She minimized the skill updates and the class description. 

"I probably shouldn't have accepted the class."

"What?" Matt looked at her with the expression of a dog encountering a cucumber.

"I don't know. The world just got a lot weird. I'm going home."

"Yeah... I should do that, too. Wait. No." He walked over to the Hispanic woman and her children, who had both stopped crying. "Ma'am. Señora. Shit. Um. Necesitas ayuda? Um. Quiero ayudarte volverte a la casa. I don't. Shit." His shoulders slumped. Sam walked up beside him with a smile.

"Pienso que es bueno, tia." 

The woman gave a shy smile and quietly gathered her children, standing up. Matt gave her his hand.

Then he shied back. "What the fuck?"

The woman fell down and Sam got between her and Matt. "What the what the fuck?!" 

Matt had his hands in front of his face, scrubbing the air.

Sam turned to the woman. "Es bueno, es un nuevo problema... no sé de donde viene. Es... No es un mal hombre. Lo siento. Sientate, Espere. Lo siento". Turning back to Matt, she ran her hand down his face, her fingers over his eyes. 

"Calm down. Deep breaths. You can control them. They're like pop-ups, it's like a computer thing."

"YES! Stop it! Yes!"

Sam slammed both palms to her face. "What did you just do?"

Matt's panicked breath slowed. "Um... I'm a Knight? That's a ... class? And I just gained strength and constitution? Those are... things? I thought those were D&D nerd things. And I have a quest?"

 "I'm an Unfrocked Priest, and I gained wisdom and strength, and a few skills."

"Yeah, um, swords +1, heavy armor +1, and riding+ 1." 

"Did you say you got a quest?"

"Yeah... 'Escort Mariela and her children home safely.' Um... I guess she's Mariela?" He gestured at the woman and her children. "Um... Mariela?" She smiled. "Um... vais... veis a volverles a la casa?"

She gave a watery smile. "Yes. We go home."

Matt leaned over to Sam. "I got strong ... like, it's ... it's a lot. I think I could run home. And it's about ten miles.".

Sam nodded. "I only got one point of strength, and I feel like I could do the thing. The internet thing. Fight a bear."

"That was an internet thing?"

"For a minute. For girls. Would you rather be stuck alone in the woods with a man or a bear?"

"Holy shit. That's horrifying. Definitely a bear."

"Really? Why?"

"Because all a bear will do is kill you and eat you to death."

"Yep. You're a knight in shining armor, Matt. Let's get Mariela home, and then you home so you can not be eaten by a bear." 

 

Chapter 2

 

Sam walked in to a dim, cramped apartment. It was crowded with bookcases and half a dozen end-tables covered with old consoles. The books and video games were all dusty. 

She collapsed on the barcalounger in the middle of the room. Her dog worked his way wearily to his feet and limped out of the kitchen to lie down beside her. Her cat blinked at her from his spot in the sunbeam in the kitchen.

Her roommate, Sarah, staggered out of her bedroom in her bathrobe, yawning and rubbing her eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"; she stumbled to the fridge and grabbed a root beer, cracking it open. "It's like, almost noon, right?"

Sam took a breath and worked her way out of the deep fluff of the armchair. 

"I don't... Something's happened. I don't know what."

"What do you mean 'something happened?"

"I don't know! Something!" Sam scrubbed her hands over her face. "I... If you go outside, it'll be noise and bad things and hurt people and... I don't know, weird magic."

"Magic." Sarah pulled her phone out of the pocket of her robe. "Right. Huh. What's going on with my phone?"

"The same thing that's happening everywhere! Planes falling out of the sky, fires everywhere, cars can't move! And our phones don't work."

"Fires? Planes? You were being serious?"

"Yes! Why would I lie?"

"I dunno. You exaggerate a lot. You think it's funny." Sarah walked to the window and cracked the blinds. All she saw was the trees just across the thin strip of grass where their neighbors walked their dogs. "I don't see anything."

"Of course not. Well, not of course. We're right next to the airport. We could have had a plane fall on us."

"It's not a real airport."

"Yeah, so it would've been a small plane. Look, I don't know what's going on, but I think you shouldn't go to work today. I know I'm staying home."

"If the world's falling apart, they definitely don't need me to do robo-calls to tell people their insurance dropped them and they have to pay for their ambulance rides."

"Jesus, Sarah, is that what you do? I thought you said you were a claims adjuster!"

"That is a claims adjuster. We tell people the worst day of their life is now also the most expensive."

"Holy shit. That's horrible. Definitely don't go to work."

"Yeah, if it's that bad out there, they'll want me at work tomorrow for sure."  Sarah picked up the cat, who blurped at her as she cuddled him. "Wait... the power's out. What about our food?"

Sam sighed. "Don't open the fridge if you don't have to." She sighed again and stood up with a groan. Walking into their tiny kitchen, she grabbed a chair and stood on it to pull a cooler off the cabinets. "I'll walk to the gas station and buy some ice before they run out. Who knows how long the power will be out."

"Walk?"

"I don't know if cars are running yet. Our phones don't work anyway so I can't get a ride."

"Oh. What should I do?"

"If the power's out for a long time, we won't be able to use the stove. Maybe make a list of things we can cook on sterno and then go buy those and some sterno?"

"How will I get there?"

"Walk?" 

 

Chapter 3

 

Sam walked out of the apartment and locked the door. She heard the commotion as she walked down the breezeway and into the parking lot. She stepped into a scene so stereotypical it might as well have been a daguerreotype or an Egyptian bas relief of the end of days. The end of the Third Republic or the bronze age or whatever. Except in this case it was her neighbors clamoring in confusion, listening to the growing sounds of chaos from the city and spiraling into ignorant fright. She froze, clutching the cooler to her chest.

Fortunately, Sarah was only moments behind her, having jumped into light sweats and pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail. She took in the crowd of frightened people and ... treated it like a party. She waded into the mess and started organizing people, identifying hot spots and separating people. It was just like her mother's third wedding.

Sam had been Sarah's plus one. "I've already been through two of these and it's going to be a nightmare. I can't deal with some boy who's just going to wait to have sex with me and hit on my cousin May. I need someone who's just there for me and ... please?" Sarah had glided through the complex web of two different families, stopping fights before they started. She kept her cousin May from getting too drunk too early, and made sure her aunt Tilly got way too drunk way too soon so her uncle Frank had to take her to bed and she didn't go off on one of her rants about "those people". No one was really sure who "those people" were, because somehow it was all the brown people at home and abroad and the Jews and, for some reason, people who didn't like birds.

Sarah did the same thing here, even though they didn't really know their neighbors. She saw the egos willing to start a fight and separated them, surrounding each angry loudmouth with a group of quiet people who wouldn't challenge their nonsense. She spotted the scared people needing reassurance and gave them quiet words, putting them with people who wanted to gain comfort by giving comfort, the moms and dads of the world.

Persuasion (skill) +1

Persuasion (skill) +1

Within minutes, what had been a mob on the edge of a riot had become several groups of concerned neighbors having confused and confusing conversations. 

"Sarah, that was amazing."

"What? That? That was just talking. Compared to one of Aunt Tilly's tea parties, this was ... a tea party."

Sam took her hands. "No, seriously. Look at them, look at what you did. They were scared and now they're... well, they're still scared, but they're not going to do anything stupid. You did that."

Sarah blushed and ducked her head. "Okay, maybe it what the hell?" She jerked back, pulling her hands out of Sam's and slapping at the air in front of her.

Sam recognized what was happening. "It's okay! Just say yes and it'll go away!"

Since she was actually looking at Sarah, she saw the change as it happened. Sarah, unshowered and wearing yesterday's clothes, nevertheless became beautiful. She was also more... solid?

Sarah leaned against a car in the parking lot. "What the hell is an unshriven?"

"A what?"

"I got a ... class? Leader of the Unshriven? And... points? Constitution +1, Wisdom +1, Charisma +1? Is that, like, one of your video games?"

"You play video games. Candy crush. Online poker."

"That's not... Stop it, I'm... what's going on?"

"I don't know. I got a class, too. Unfrocked Cleric. So did Matt, this guy, he's a Knight now." 

"Unfrocked? What the hell is that?"

"I think it's like a dress? A frock is a dress? Maybe it's a dress?"

One of their neighbors, a slim black man, spoke up. "It's the robes a priest wears. At least in the Catholic church. When they kick a priest out he's "defrocked", so "unfrocked" probably means a priest without a church." He shrank a little when Sam and Sarah looked at him, then shrugged. "I mean... that's what it means. Probably." Then he turned back to the small circle of people he'd been talking to.

Sam remembered she was holding their cooler. "Let's go back inside?" 

Sarah nodded.

Sam dropped the cooler just inside the door and slumped back into her armchair. She was surprised when Sarah curled in her lap and put her arms around her, but leaned into the hug. 

Sarah whispered quietly into Sam's cheek, "What's going on? Why am I getting pop-ups in real life? What...?" She trailed off.

Sam hugged her close. "I don't know." Her eyes opened wide and she straightened up. "I have an idea."

She looked firmly into the middle distance and said "Help." She drew in a sharp breath as a new screen opened in front of her.

Sarah pulled back a bit. "What is it?"

"It worked."

"What worked?"

"I have a help screen. There's even a search bar. Unfrocked Priest."

Unfrocked Priest

Cleric Class

A priest with no god, an Unfrocked Priest is a support class that inspires others. This class is for the mid-lines, occasionally engaging in combat and unable to heal, they give buffs to enhance allies in and out of combat.

"That's... basic information. I... Skills? Character Sheet? Personal Information?"

The first two prompts opened windows, one to either side and moving as she turned her head, making them both impossible to read. With a mental swipe, she closed both, then sighed. "Character Sheet."

Sam

Level 1 Unfrocked Cleric

STRength: 3
DEXterity: 2
CONstitution: 1
INTelligence: 4
WISdom: 6
CHArisma: 1

POOLS

Hit Points: 20
Stamina: 20
Dodge: 25
Fortitude: 15
Mana: 50
Influence: 25
Persuasion: 35

SKILLS

Athletics: 1
Acrobatics: 1
Puzzles: 3
Perception: 2

ABILITIES

BLUNT WEAPONS: 1

• Blunt weapons are light in the hand.

• Blunt weapons do more damage.

DIVINE INSPIRATION: 1

• You can influence people.

• You give bonuses to people’s skills.

 "Whoa. I've got stats like in D&D. But, wait, pools? That's not D&D. That's an MMO thing. Puzzles? I have a skill in puzzles? Blunt weapons? Oh, priests don't use swords, they use clubs and stuff. Wait, am I really a priest?"

"What about me?" Sarah asked. 

"Oh, um, Help. Leader of the Unshriven."

Leader of the Unshriven

A paladin class. This is a holy warrior without a god. They're a front line warrior in and out of combat, standing in front of danger and preventing others from taking damage. They have limited healing abilities, focusing more on directing attacks toward themselves and sparing others.

"Wow, you're kind of a badass now, I think."

"I don't want to fight people."

"Yeah, but look at what you did out there. You walked right into a crowd and stopped it turning into a riot. That's awesome hero stuff."

"I mean, okay... without a god?"

"You don't really go to church or anything..."

"Yeah. Mom... we went on Easter and Christmas, a few other times when Aunt Tilly got snide."

"Aunt Tilly? She's...?"

"Yeah,  she's the bad one. I just never really thought about it. I don't even know what "Methodist" means. Just mom's church decided to break away because they don't like gay people getting married."

"That sucks."

"Yeah."

Sam hugged her roommate. "Maybe bring up your character screen? See what you can do?"

"Oh. Um. Character Screen."

Leader of the Unshriven: 1

STATS

STRength: 1
DEXterity: 2
CONstitution: 2
INTelligence: 2
Wisdom: 3
Charisma: 6

POOLS

Hit Points: 30
Stamina: 15
Dodge: 15
Fortitude: 20
Mana: 25
Influence: 45
Persuasion: 40

SKILLS

Athletics: 1
Acrobatics: 1
Perception: 1
Oration: 2
Persuasion (skill): 6
Bluff: 6 

Heavy armor: 1

• Wearing heavy armor doesn’t incur a stamina cost

• You can maintain and perform small repairs on armor

Martial weapons: 1

• You can use all weapons except exotic and profane.

• Martial and basic weapons are light in the hand.

Shields: 1

• You can use a shield in your off hand.

• You can use advanced techniques to attack or defend with shields.

Take the Blows: 1

• Once per encounter, you can enter a defensive stance that grants damage reduction (5).

 "I don't know what this means."

"Tell me what you see?"

Sarah described her character sheet.

"I mean, holy crap, Sarah! I don't really know what the averages are but your Charisma is way higher than mine! No wonder you're so hot!"

Sarah pulled away and blushed. "Um..."

"Sorry! I'm sorry! That was bad! I don't..."

Sarah smiled, "No, it's okay. I like that you think I'm hot. What are pools?" She snuggled back in.

"Well, in MMOs you can't just keep going forever. You've got skills that need a cooldown, like you can only use them once every thirty seconds or something. It sounds like your Take the Blows thing is "once per encounter"? That might mean we're in a D&D 4th edition MMO now? Whatever. Pools are ... They're a resource? You use them to do stuff and they can run out, but they usually refill? Like, you use mana to cast spells and stamina to do physical stuff. I'm guessing persuasion is for persuading people, but you also have a persuasion skill? Probably you use the pool to use the skill? We'll have to use help screens a lot and figure this out as we figure out whatever's going on. Hang on... Minimap. Wow!"

"What?"

"I can see the whole... I mean, we're in an apartment complex across the street from an apartment complex down the street from the mall. It's not a neighborhood... whatever, I can see the whole thing! Buildings and streets and, holy crap, it even has the speed bumps!"

"I hate those."

"Yeah, this city is lousy with speed bumps. Probably an ordinance or something."

"Are you..." Sarah paused. "Are you enjoying this?"

Sam hugged her close. "I'm sorry. I'm just focusing on things I can figure out. I know I'm weird."

Sarah hugged her back. "Don't say that. You're awesome. If anyone can figure out what's going on and keep us safe it's going to be you."

With that, the young women comforted each other and the sun slowly sank behind the trees on the other side of the closed blinds. 

 

Chapter 4

 

Half an hour later, with an emotional buffer from the shock of the days events, Sam and Sarah set out, cooler in tow.

"How far is it to the gas station?"

Sam shrugged the cooler over her shoulder. "I dunno. Half a mile? A mile?" What else are we gonna do? Our phones still aren't working." 

"Ugh. This sucks!"

"Yeah, but at least you're wearing your fun shoes."

"My ... you mean my chucks?"

"Yeah! With the plaid in the different colors! They're your fun shoes! You wear them when you're being fun instead of fancy!"

Sarah stopped dead in the parking lot and looked at her shoes. "I just... I wanted..." Her face lit up in a grin. "They're my fun shoes!" She danced over and gave Sam a hug. "When I just want to have fun!"

----

It took fifteen minutes to get to the gas station. They were already out of ice. And beer. And wine. Sam and Sarah walked back home.

They were at the end of the downtown airport's runway, on the other side of the fence, of course, when they were attacked.

The little things came swarming out of the ditch. Half a dozen of them. Brown hairy rat men with red eyes and giant teeth, maybe a foot tall, carrying crude weapons, knives and clubs. Sam and Sarah both screamed... and they both jumped forward. 

Sam started slamming the things with the cooler, using the lightweight empty crate as an incredibly awkward cudgel. The tiny monsters went flying, despite the uselessness of her weapon.

Sarah screamed "Take the Blows" and the little beasts were forced to focus on her. Their knives and clubs pounded on skin that was suddenly hard as stone. She grabbed two of them and slammed their heads together, dropping the limp things to the ground. Scooping up a dropped knife, she charged into the tiny horde, cutting the things down like flies.

Take the Blows +1 

"Holy shit, Sarah!" Sam stared at her girly roommate slaying the little monsters. "You're badass!"

Divine Inspiration +1

Sarah practically started flying as Sam gave her a Dexterity buff. The little whatever-they-weres didn't stand a chance. Inside a minute, Sarah was surrounded by disgusting little corpses, holding a knife dripping with their blood. She panted for a minute, wiped the sweat off her forehead, then took a good look at the crude knife in her hand. 

Sam pulled Sarah away from the pile of bodies, shielding her eyes from what she'd done.

"It's okay, honey, it's okay. Stay here. I'll... I'll go look at things."

 She got up and picked up the cooler. Then she took a look at it and saw she'd badly cracked it in multiple places. She walked a dozen feet from Sarah and tossed the cooler gently aside. Then she went to look at the little rat men.

Corpse - Moglin
Killed by:  You
Would you like to loot? Yes/No

"Yes." 

 Sam had the strangest sensation as items from the Moglin, the little rat man, entered her inventory. She didn't even know she had an inventory, but suddenly there it was.

The Moglin had had a club and a half-eaten squirrel, but Sam also got his skin. It was labeled "Moglin hide" and bound with twine. She managed not to throw up. She then looted the handful of other Moglins she had killed with the cooler. She wasn't allowed to loot the rest because they were marked as Sarah's kills.

Sam walked back over to Sarah. "Um... Shit."

Sarah looked at her, snotty and weeping. "Yeah?"

"Uh... When... In a... When you kill monsters you loot them but I can't loot them because you killed them." Sam finished in a rush, then paused. "I... I think I can loot them if you give me permission, so you don't have to." She took a deep breath.

"Why would you loot them?" Sarah rubbed at her eyes.

"Because ... that's what you do. Monsters have stuff you can sell or use. Sometimes it's just trash. I've got a club now. I'm cleric or something so I can use clubs. I don't know if there'll be pop-up vendors who buy garbage so you can... Shitfuck. I'm sorry, Sarah, I'm just... I want... I don't know."

Sarah stood up. "I'll loot them."

"What? But... no... I can..."

"You shouldn't have to be the strong one all the time." Sarah took a deep breath. "There's magic and monsters now. I have to be able to do this." She scrubbed the drying blood off her hands in the tall grass at the side of the road, picked up the Moglin knife, and walked into the field of corpses. She stood there for a moment, then the bloody corpses turned into looted skeletons. 

"Moglin skin? Gross. Lots of knives and clubs. Can we use those?"

Sam shrugged. "If the power stays out, maybe we can burn the clubs? Use the knives as art? Like that weird spinny thing downtown?"

Sarah managed a laugh. "Neither of us knows anything about how to make the weird spinny thing downtown. Do you know where those things came from?"

Sam shook her head. "Magic and monsters. I think maybe that's just a thing that happens now? I don't think we should go anywhere alone."

Sarah nodded. "We should warn the neighbors." Her face twisted and she sobbed. "That was horrible."

Sam grabbed her in a fierce hug. "You were amazing. I'm sorry." They stood there holding each other for a minute. "I broke the cooler."

"It's okay. They were out of ice." She stood quietly for a moment. "That was weird. It's like, I know I got stuff but I'm not holding stuff?"

"Try saying something like Inventory." Sam studied her loot. Sarah followed her example.

"Seriously though. Moglin skin? That's disgusting."

"Maybe it's a crafting item?"

"Crafting? Like... Etsy?"

"Oh, gross, we're going to have to wear Moglin skin leather armor, aren't we."

"Ew. No."

The women made their way home.

----

Sarah walked into the kitchen, flipped on the lights, and stopped when they failed to turn on. Her shoulders slumped. "What are we going to eat?"

Sam walked over to the cupboard next to the tiny laundry room. She opened it and pulled out a can. "Cold ravioli. Splitsies?"

Sarah smiled and opened the drawer on the other side of the kitchen, pulling out a pair of forks. "Splitsies."

---- 

By unspoken agreement, Sarah and Sam shared Sam's bed after the sun went down. Their dog, Bumbum, and their cat, Foofooraw, joined them. Some time during the night, the power came back on, turning all the lights on, and the overhead fan, and Sam's alarm clock. Bumbum and Foofoo bolted for the door, scratching Sam and Sarah. The girls were statue stiff for a moment.

"I guess it's not just the emergency vehicles they got back online", Sarah laughed. 

Sam grinned and nodded.

There was a loud knock at the front door and the girls froze again. 

Sam got up, pulled on her pants, and made her way quietly to the door. Looking through the peephole, she saw a cop. He pounded on the door again.

"Um... can I help you?"

"We've had reports of a woman screaming. Open the door."

Sam cracked the door and peered at him. "No. No one screaming. It's just me and my roommate."

The officers pushed the door open and stepped inside, looking around. "I need to check."

"Um, I don't think you can do that. We're fine. I think..."

He shouldered Sam aside and walked further into the apartment. "I can do that. Where's your roommate?"

Sarah stepped out, pulling on her sweatshirt. "I'm here." Her voice was ice cold. She pulled her hair into a pony tail. "You can't do that. You don't have permission to come in. Either show us a warrant or leave."

"I'm here to keep you safe. I heard a woman scream. These are exigent circumstances."

"No." Sarah planted herself in front of the officer and put a hand on his chest. "You said you had reports of a woman screaming. You're lying. You're trespassing and breaking the law. Leave. Now."

"I'm here to keep you safe." He tried to shove her aside and failed.

"You're making us unsafe. Leave. Now."

The officer's face twisted in a snarl as he pulled his baton. "Bitches. Always bitches." He looked at Sam. "And niggers." He turned back to Sarah. "How many illegals are you hiding?" His eyes flashed red and he shoved her away.

"Sarah!" Sam screamed.

Divine Inspiration +1

Sarah pulled a pair of Moglin knives from her inventory on instinct and started slicing the cop. He was about to start beating her with his baton, but suddenly Sam was there. She was half his size but crawled up his back and hung off his arm, wrestling the baton away from him. 

He swung wildly, flinging her off him, but she kept hold of the baton and managed to land feet first on the wall.

Acrobatics +1

While Sarah sliced at him from the front, Sam slammed him from behind, focusing on his knees and shoulders. 

The cop started screaming in rage. His eyes continued glow red. They turned entirely red. He grew horns from his forehead and his chin. 

Music started playing and everyone froze.

BOSS BATTLE

Officer Damien Copperfield

Then everyone unfroze and the cop started swiping at Sarah. His fingers now ended in claws. Drool poured from his mouth in a disgusting torrent around fangs that couldn't come from a human jaw.

Sam landed a solid hit on his right knee that almost made him collapse. He started to turn around  and swipe at her.

"Take the Blows!" Sarah screamed and forced him to turn and face her. His claw swipes did almost nothing, only half the time raising a red 1 as she took damage. Mostly it was zeroes. Still, she didn't have many hit points and knew that if this went on, she would die. She had an intuitive understanding of her stats and powers and she was terrified.

Take the Blows +1 

So was Sam. 

She jumped back on the cop's back, the thing that used to be a cop, and started slamming the baton into his wrists, managing to hit them even as he flailed and raged at Sarah.

Blunt Weapons +1 

Sarah continued to slice him with her Moglin knives. They were crap and weren't very sharp, so she made a decision. She pulled the kinves into her inventory and ducked back into the kitchen. 

Sam and Sarah had a thing. A dish rack. It stood above the sink and you put the dishes there to dry. That's where they kept the big knives. 

Sarah grabbed the butcher's knife and the cleaver, not caring that it upset the dish rack; it popped off the counter with its suction cups unable to withstand Sarah's determination. With the cleaver in her left hand and the butcher's knife in her right she faced the cop. What used to be a cop.

With her new skill with martial weapons, Sarah was a guitarist with her knives. A left-handed guitarist. The cleaver was a blunt instrument she used to chop and chop into the demon cop. The butcher's knife was delicate, giving light slices and aiming at his throat.

Meanwhile, Sam was still clinging to his back like a shitty ex-boyfriend, slamming away at his arms and hands with the baton. Thanks to Take the Blows, he couldn't stop her and had to focus on Sarah, meaning his claws were useless. 

Take the Blows +1 

Even though she had trouble hitting him as he flailed at Sarah, Sam had landed enough blows hard enough that his hands and forearms were half broken. 

Blunt Weapons +1

The demon cop took a deep breath and his mouth started to fill with flame. Sam saw the glow reflecting off of Sarah's face and pulled herself onto the cop's shoulders, using both hands to pull the baton across his throat, with her knees on his shoulders as leverage.

 On the other side of the monster boss, Sarah dropped the butcher's knife and used both hands on the cleaver, throwing the cutting tool deep into his chest, right side, left side, over and over.

Martial Weapons +1 

The flames died from his mouth and he fell to his knees, then faceplanted on the floor.

Sam gasped for breath and weakly hit him on the head a few times until Sarah pulled her up and into a hug.

Boss Battle Finished!
Winners!
Sam and Sarah!

Unfrocked Cleric Level 2
Divine Judgment Level 1

Leader of the Unshriven Level 2
Divine Smite Level 1

"Jesus, Sarah. What the hell was that?"

"That was a cop? I think? And then he turned into a demon? And ... a boss? Was he a boss cop?"

"Boss fights are tougher fights in video games. I think something happened that made him more of an asshole than cops usually are and then he turned into a monster."

"Cops aren't assholes..."

"Not for pretty blonde girls. For black girls? They're assholes."

"I ... Yeah. I'll... We have a dead cop in our kitchen."

"Shit." 

The women looked at the cop lying in a pool of blood. Even with the horns, he was unmistakably a cop.

Sam looked around. "I don't know... what... how?"

Sarah gave a weird little laugh. "Fried Green Tomatoes?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means we go lesbian, turn him into chili, and feed him to other cops."

"What? Chili? Lesbian?"

Sarah's laugh turned into sobs.

Sam's shock lasted half a second, whence she pulled Sarah out of the kitchen toward her bedroom, into her bathroom, where she washed the blood off of Sarah's hands, forearms, and face. She couldn't do anything to clean Sarah's blood-spattered clothes, so she gently peeled them off and guided Sarah back to bed, turning off the lights and holding her.

Thus ended the first day of the rest of their lives.
  

The Anarchism of John Wick

My allegiances are to the the High Table. - Adjuicator

And mine are to New York City. - Winston

Anarchy is a world without rulers, not a world without rules. 

John Wick lived in a world with both. The rules of the coins, of the Continental, of Markers, of respect, family, friendship, and loyalty. The rulers of the High Table, and the Elder who sits above it. The elite who hold themselves above the rules and excercise authority over those under the Table.

The story of John Wick is a story of friendship, family, loyalty, and respect for the humanity of others. The sins committed against John are those that deny him his humanity and those that serve the caprice of the elites. The story begins, of course, with death. First the death of John's wife, by cancer, then the death of his dog.

But a dog is never just a dog. A dog is family. A dog is love and joy and loyalty. And in the case of John Wick, Daisy is hope and the memory of his wife, she's love and a reason to live. In a moment of emotional intelligence surprising for an action franchise, John recognizes that she's an aide to processing his grief. And Iosef killed her because her terrified yelps were annoying. Iosef killed her while viewing John as less than human, as an obstacle to stealing a car, as a means to an end. John responds with vengeance.

Oddly, vengeance strikes me as the opposite. Seeking vengeance means recognizing the target of your revenge as wholly human and wholly responsible for their actions. You don't seek justice from a storm. You don't hunt a hurricane. You don't demande recompense or apology from a flood. In stalking Iosef and flooding the streets of New York with the blood of the Tasarov crime family, John is acknowledging him as the architect of his suffering. John's response is terrible, but it's a response consistent with the medium.

Iosef's father, Viggo, recognizes the gravity of the crime and tries to appeal to John. When he fails, he knows that his son is a dead man, and he knows that Iosef brought this on himself through his ignorance and arrogance, but Iosef is his son and he has to try. He places his army in John's path, and John kills them all.

All but one. A man who knows John, respects him, and steps aside. He recognizes John's humanity and the justice of his goal, and lives. And Iosef dies. Ultimately, Viggo values his life and his empire more than his son and gives him up to John. However, he demands his own vengeance. Unable to get it against John, he gets it by killing John's friend, Marcus, who never actually accepted the contract on John's life and instead aided him from a distance. Viggo kills him and calls John to gloat, using Marcus as a means to an end. John gets vengeance in turn, killing Viggo and the last of his allies. He also rescues a dog scheduled for death. A pit bull, mirroring John as a breed that is kind, loving, and gentle, but which can be turned monstrous through careful abuse.

And a dog is never just a dog.

The second film expands on the mysterious and increasingly mystical Underworld of John Wick, introducing the High Table and its 12 members as well as Markers, tokens of obligation much more severe than the prosaity of Gold Coins and the everyday transactions they represent. A Marker is a recognition of epic service and a demand for the same in return, signed in blood and guaranteed by death. John gave Santino D'Antonio a Marker when the latter aided him in the Impossible Task that earned John's exit from the Underworld. Santino was content to hold it while John remained inactive, but views John's quest for vengeance as his re-entry to the Underworld and its obligations, so calls the debt in. John begs him not to and refuses, so D'Antonio burns his house down, destroying the last mementos John had of his wife, Helen.

By the rules, John is in the wrong and should be glad all that he lost was his home. He agrees to fulfill the Marker and Santino tasks him with killing Santino's own sister, because he wants her seat at the High Table. Killing anyone is monstrous, fratricide moreso, and he does it only for personal gain. What's more, he views John as nothing more than a tool to use in his rise to power, and doesn't merely discard him when the task is done, but tries to kill him. He's using John as an object and attempting to keep his hands clean so the authorities will see clear to accept him as one of their number.

John, again, seeks vengeance. Vengeance for having been used and abused, and for being tasked with doing what he sought to escape to live with the woman he loved. Santino seeks refuge in the Continental, established in the first film as hallowed ground, sacrosanct, a place of refuge where "business" may not be conducted. John kills D'Antonio in the lounge with a pistol, because it's personal. In the first film, Ms. Perkins conducted business in the Continental and was executed for her temerity. John's life is likewise forfeit.

However, Winston, the manager of the New York Continental is a friend. Not just a friend, either. The fourth film establishes that he is Ruska Roma, as John will be in the third. Indeed, he may even be John's adoptive father. So where Ms. Perkins was dispatched with no ceremony, John is given first a display of the Continental's power and second an hour's grace. Friendship and family buy you a great deal in the Underworld. Unfortunately, the High Table aren't as gracious.

The third film showcases John's quest to save his life, so that he can keep his wife alive, if only in memory. He seeks out a doctor, a friend who is willing to mend his wounds up to the last second of his hour's grace. John repays his kindness by shooting him precisely where he indicates so that the High Table will be convinced he acted under duress but without putting his life too much at risk. John then seeks out his family, the Ruska Roma, to ask for safe passage to Casablanca. They very reluctantly agree, and only because he's family, and make it clear that he will never again be welcome in their home.

In Casablanca, John calls in his own Marker with the Manager of the Casablanca Continental. Sofia, the Manager, wants to refuse, she should refuse, but John earned the Marker by absconding with her daughter, hiding her away from the Underworld. She desperately wants to see her daughter, but refuses even to know where she is, because any connection would be enough to draw the girl into the Underworld. Sofia contents herself with the comforts awarded her as Manager of the Continental and consoles her grief through her dogs. She agrees to take John to a member of the High Table.

John begs an audience with the Elder, who sits above the Table. The aristocrat concedes, telling John how he can walk to his death in the hope that the Elder will see him, then demands punishment from Sofia for honoring John's request. Because Sofia respected her friendship and her Marker, he demands one of her dogs. Naturally, she refuses, so the aristocrat kills the dog. Against John's advice, Sofia kills him and the two murder their way to freedom.

Because a dog is never just a dog.

John walks through the desert until he collapses, and is wakened by the Elder, who grants him absolution so long as he pledges lifelong service to the Table. John agrees, giving the Elder his ring finger, his wedding ring, and his pledge to kill Winston, the Manager of the New York Continental. His friend. His father.

On his return to New York, John learns that the High Table sent the Adjudicator to punish his allies. For his loyalty to John, Winston's life was declared forfeit. For aiding John in hunting D'Antonio, the Bowery King, a man who came from nothing to build an army, is left for dead. The Bowery King was a henchman whose life was spared by John while the latter was working, but because he helped John kill a member of the Table, a member who had just killed his own sister, the member of the Table whose seat he had just taken, the Bowery King was judged. For respecting John and valuing the man more than the money killing him would earn, the Bowery King was cut down by the Table.

Winston offers John a choice: join me and save your soul, or serve the Table for the rest of your life and lose it. John chooses his family. They make a stand against the High Table and are successful enough that the High Table negotiates. They offer Winston reconsecration, provided he kills John Wick. He shoots John, causing the latter to fall off the roof of the Continental. The Bowery King, who survived his own execution, rescues him and sets the table for the final installment of John's story.

Notaby, the only killers to survive John's wrath are those who recognize him as a man, as a worthy opponent. The agent of the High Table, Zero, does not, because he doesn't view John as a man, but as an icon to be defeated for his own glory.

Authority will always protect itself for its own sake. It will never act out of good will or to protect others.

In the fourth film, Winston is punished for having failed to kill John. He is again declared excommunicat, and his hotel is not just Deconsecrated, but destroyed, and his best friend, Charon, the man at the front desk, is murdered by the Marquis. The High Table has tasked the Marquis with eliminating John Wick and given him a free hand. The Rules are suspended and he can do whatever he wants to whomever he wants. John seeks refuge at the Osaka Continental with his old friend Koji. Koji grants it without hesitation because "friendship means little when it's convenient". Also at the hotel is Caine, a man whose name is doubly ironic. Not only does he walk with a cane due to being blind (having given his eyes to the High Table like John gave his ring finger and wedding ring), but because he's been tasked with killing his brother, John. This is an Impossible Task that he only accepts because the Marquis will kill Caine and his daughter if he doesn't.

Also on the hunt is the Tracker, a man who calls himself Nobody, a capable hunter who travels with a dog. He wants to kill John for the money because, like John, he wants out of the life. John's ever escalating bounty is his path to retiremenet. The Marquis, with his excesses and his bloodthirst, sends an ever-growing army after John, but he, an arrogant fool, doesn't realize that he's set his assassins against one another. Caine has to stop other assassins because if anyone else kills John, his daughter will die. Nobody likewise kills other assassins because he can't win the bounty and because he will die if someone else kills Wick.

The Marquis continues to harass and assault Wick's allies, but he does nothing but alienate them and his own would-be allies. Meanwhile, Winston recalls the Rules. He advises John that he can challenge the Marquis to a duel, winning his freedom, but only if he has backing from his family. John returns to the Ruska Roma, regains membership, and challenges the Marquis.

The Marquis, of course, doesn't care about the spirit of the contest, but only the outcome, sending a horde of assassins after John with an ever-increasing bounty. Nobody is also hunting (and helping) John for this bounty, but John confounds him. In a melée à trois with one of the Marquis' elite guards, John spares Nobody's life, choosing instead to save his dog from the Marquis' elite.

And a dog is never just a dog.

The culmination of forty-five brutal minutes of fighting is a duel between Abel and Cain at the Sacré Couer in Paris. John and Caine injure each other, with John receving a fatal wound in the third round. But John chooses not to fire, sparing his friend's life and sparing his daughter's life. This is also a gambit, as the Marquis, in his foolishness and arrogance, chooses to step into the dueling ground in place of his second and deliver the coup de grâce himself. John's final bullet goes through the Marquis' head. Caine is free. John is free. Winston is re-instated as the Manager of the New York Continental, rebuilt at the High Table's expense. The Underworld's faith in the High Table is seriously shaken, and John, finally, allows himself to die.

His last request is to his father, Winston, that he be taken home. Winston and the Bowery King, who now holds the leash to John's beautiful dog, memorialize their fallen friend, whose gravestone bears the epitaph "Loving Husband". John served his friends and his family. John was loyal, kind, and respectful. Against that he was opposed by the arbitrary and capricious authority of the High Table and the Elder. By this light, the saga of John Wick is a deeply communist tale.

By any light, a dog is never just a dog.