Tyler didn’t struggle, as the man holding him wasn’t just strong — he was decisive. The grip around his jacket was like an iron vice. The way the world seemed to tilt slightly in this man’s favour, as if gravity itself had decided he mattered more in this moment. To hell with the laws of physics.

  This wasn’t a fight; this was pure containment, absolute. Tyler was sure if the man wanted to, he could squeeze harder, and if his jacket held, he’d be crushed by it — left squeezed out like a lemon from this man’s one-handed grip.

  Tyler’s feet dangled uselessly above the ground, boots scraping for friction. His heart hammered, but his mind stayed cold, analytical in the way it always did when fear stopped being abstract.

  I can’t get out of this, he thought, and even if I could, why should I have to? I’ve done nothing wrong here. Just a simple misunderstanding. No doubt tensions are high. I just need to de-escalate the situation.

  He looked over and saw Carl, gaping at him, dangling there like a novelty air freshener in a car window.

  “Oi!” Tyler snapped, craning his neck toward the others. “Carl!”

  Carl flinched at the sound of his name. He looked pale — scared even — like he wanted to be anywhere other than here.

  “Carl, tell this moron to let me go. You know me. We worked next to each other for years. Same building. Same coffee machine. Hell — I knew Penny too. You think I’d do something like that?”

  Tyler kept his tone neutral, but loud and confident. He wanted to make it clear that this was unacceptable, that he had the backing of others here, and — most importantly — that he had nothing to do with the death of Penny.

  Carl’s hands twisted together at his waist as his eyes flicked up toward Tyler, then straight back to the ground. He’s scared. Who of? Me? Did he think I actually did this? Or was it this man? Was he scared of upsetting him if he spoke to me?

  “Carl, you alright, man?”

  The man’s grip tightened, pushing the air out of Tyler’s lungs, making it difficult for him to talk now. Tyler cleared his head — he had to be careful what he said next, the grip reminding him how little margin there was.

  He was pulled closer, boots lifting higher, his chest nearly brushing against his jailer’s. Tyler could feel the heat of the man’s breath on his cheek, steady and controlled. Not grief or panic. No rage. Just cold calculation, as if he was waiting for a signal — or a sign — to end Tyler.

  The man spoke, slow and clear into Tyler’s face, his warm breath suffocating him under his vice-like grip. His voice was low when he spoke.

  “Careful who you talk to.”

  Tyler tried to respond, but he had no air left in his lungs to make words. He felt panic coming from the now-silent AI in his mind. The world started to wobble as his brain was starved of oxygen.

  A hand rested on the large man’s shoulder — not forceful or challenging, just there. The man didn’t take his eyes from Tyler.

  “Wasn’t him, son,” Keith said calmly.

  The word son landed with quiet authority, causing the man to turn his gaze and look at Keith, his grip not loosening a fraction.

  “He’s been with me,” Keith went on, voice steady as stone. “Pulled me out of some serious shit about two miles south. Saved my life, in fact. And he’s not even level two yet. Rafe — he’s level one.”

  Keith inclined his head and opened his eyes, indicating for Rafe to listen to his words. Rafe’s eyes flicked to Tyler, sharp and appraising now.

  Keith finished, softly but firmly. “He couldn’t have done that to Penny.”

  For a long second, nothing moved. Tyler’s lungs burned as both his eyes went bloodshot and bulged slightly in their sockets. It didn’t matter if Rafe believed Keith or not — if he didn’t let go soon, Tyler was dead anyway.

  Rafe growled low, frustration crawling out. He shoved Tyler away with a flick of his wrist, and Tyler went flying a few meters away like a discarded cigarette butt. Tyler hit the ground hard, shoulder first, pain flaring white-hot down his arm as something inside him screamed. His vision stuttered, a sharp pulse rippling through his skull.

  The air burned his lungs as they filled again. He coughed and choked as he tried to breathe.

  A cold overlay flashed behind his eyes.

  DAMAGE TAKEN

  INTEGRITY COMPROMISED

  HP 82 / 100

  Rafe loomed over him.

  “Watch yourself,” he said flatly. “You turn up out of nowhere, covered in blood — things don’t just happen.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  He turned to Keith, a little of the venom dropping from his voice.

  “He stays by your side until I clean this up. I’m holding you personally responsible for him. He steps out of line — it’s on you.”

  With that, Rafe walked back to Carl and the other person still standing close to Penny’s body and started barking orders at them.

  Tyler was still on the floor, trying to suck in as much air as he could, a few tears in the corners of his eyes. He was still alive.

  “He has scary numbers. I don’t like him,” Al said, less jovial than usual.

  Before Tyler had a chance to agree with Al, Keith was helping him to his feet.

  “Sorry about that, lad. But as you can imagine, tensions are running a little high. Poor Penny… I’ve got to admit, no animal or creature did that. I’m afraid to say Rafe might be right — not about you, but about someone.”

  Tyler didn’t respond, but he agreed with both Rafe’s and Keith’s assessment. Penny was murdered, and it looked like a human was responsible. With people as strong as Rafe around, and no one to enforce the laws, Tyler imagined dark days ahead for quite a few people.

  “Let’s grab some food. You might not feel like it, but we all have to keep our strength up here. Plus, the rest should be back soon. I’d better introduce you to everyone — don’t want any more misunderstandings.”

  Keith forced a smile, and Tyler nodded as they made their way over to a larger tent that had a mix of chairs outside: a few camping chairs, a plastic garden chair, an office chair, and a couple of ornate dining-room chairs.

  They sat around a scavenged crate — the remains of someone’s idea of a table. Food appeared from bags and pockets: vending-machine fare mostly. Protein bars with faded wrappers. A packet of crisps that tasted like they’d been opened months ago. Keith passed him a can of fizzy pop.

  Tyler took a sip and grimaced. It was warm and flat, and tasted slightly metallic. He drank the rest in one go.

  The food might have been terrible and the drink worse than stale beer, but Tyler hadn’t realised how hungry he’d been. If the timings worked out, it had been nearly three days since he last ate.

  “Did this always taste that bad?” he asked.

  Keith shook his head. “Nah. Everything’s… off. Has been straight after the messages arrived. My thermos was full of coffee — and it’s a good ’un, had it over twenty-five years — yet straight after the message I went for a drink and it was cold and tasteless. Been like that ever since. Well, stuff from before that is. We killed a few critters, cooked them on the fire at night. They taste alright, mind you.”

  Tyler chewed slowly on a protein bar that tasted like cardboard and took it all in. He also noticed his HP tick up a point.

  “Huh. So we heal naturally, or food helps us.”

  Keith looked at him curiously, shrugged, and replied, “I guess you don’t know, being on your own and that. Did you take damage from that throw from Rafe? Bet you did, being level one.”

  Tyler decided a little bit of sharing might be worth it here. He might get some straightforward answers from someone — unlike the nonsensical ones Al had been giving him.

  “Yes. I lost eighteen HP, but it’s just ticking back up now to eighty-three.”

  Keith pushed himself up to the front of his chair, leaned over, and placed his hand on Tyler’s leg. A faint silvery-green light gathered around his hand, then pulsed through Tyler.

  At first, Tyler was just in awe of the light show around Keith’s hand, but when the light pulsed through him it felt like a warm, soft, relaxing sensation spread through his body — as if his skin was made of silk and someone was giving him a hug.

  His HP went straight back up to full instantly. The warmth dissipated, and he felt great, like he was just about to start his day full of energy.

  “What was that?!”

  “That was a lesser heal. I’ve got a few others as well. As you level up, well… you sort of grow. How can I put this? When you level up, your base stats increase. Makes you stronger, faster, tougher. You’ve got, what — a hundred HP or something? Well, currently I’ve got two hundred and forty-two HP, and I started the same as you.

  “But you also get some other stuff. Different for everybody. I won’t speak about others, but I got this lesser heal. Costs mana. Heals a target for eighty-six HP — that’s what I just cast on you. I’ve also got a lesser regen. Heals a target for two hundred HP over sixty seconds. Costs quite a bit more mana.

  “That’s why I thought I could tackle one of those Myxid Aggregant creatures on my own. Only thing was, I got caught while I was casting the damn thing. Lucky and unlucky, you might say. If I’d never cast it, I might not have been caught — but still, I’m glad I did. That healing no doubt kept me from seeing my maker.”

  “Yes! Yes! Get numbers, gets numbers!” Al chirped.

  “And just now — my HP going up on its own?”

  “All natural. Well, it is now. We seem to just slowly heal back up. Not sure why. But I reckon if you did nothing but sit, you’d have topped yourself up in an hour or two.”

  Tyler was about to ask more when voices came from behind the large tent. A moment later, a group of the most unlikely individuals walked around to where they were sitting and plonked themselves down on the chairs, not even registering that Tyler or Keith were there.

  “You should’ve seen him before all this — couldn’t get him to change a lightbulb. Hell, I had no door handle on the downstairs toilet for the last two years. And now? There’s no stopping him.”

  “Now there, honey. I did things — just not the boring stuff.”

  “You were as much use as a chocolate fireguard, lad. Don’t try and pull the wool over these good people’s eyes.”

  A round of laughter filled the air from the newcomers. Tyler and Keith found themselves smiling at the light-hearted conversation.

  “Helen, I think you’re making this up. Shaan is a pure workhorse.”

  “Thank you, but I’m just doing my bit — no more than anybody else.”

  Shaan smiled at Helen. She snarled back at him, yet her eyes were full of joy.

  “This is unbelievable. No one’s ever going to believe me. I do hope we bump into your parents — oh, then it’ll be a different story, bonny lad. Anyway, what’s been going on round here? Is this new meat you’ve got here with you, Keith? Is he a go-getter like our beloved Shaan?”

  Keith let the smile drop from his face and held the silence for a moment before he quietly whispered, “Penny.”

  Helen’s eyes went wide. Realisation hit, and she jumped up and pelted off towards the far side of the camp, the plastic chair splintering beneath her.

  The new group started shaking their heads in unison, all looking toward the ground. No one spoke a word for a good few minutes, until the wails of a woman crying came from the direction Helen had just run off to.

  “Oh hell, man. That Penny was a sweet little thing. What got her? Don’t tell me she got herself dissolved by one of them squishy aggregant things,” a thick-set man sitting further away said, words seeming to roll as he spoke.

  “Afraid it might be worse than that, Bill. The way that kid died — well, it wasn’t no animal. There was meaning behind it.”

  “Murdered?”

  Eyes started looking at Tyler, one pair at a time. He could feel the suspicion growing in the air and thought to himself, here we go again.