Sitting on my garage workbench were the twenty, one-shot MANA BATTERIES I’d just finished enchanting when the doorbell rang. I figured it was the 19th & Fox guild members.

  Walking up the steps into the kitchen far enough to see, I glanced through the front door glass. Sure enough, it was them. A quick look at my watch told me it had been almost an hour and a half since I’d left them. Mentally, I thanked them for the extra time.

  “Come on in,” I said, opening the door. “Garage is through the kitchen, so follow me.”

  They filed in, shoes thumping on the tile. All eight from Ryan’s place were there, plus two more people. A middle-aged man and woman I had a good idea they were the parents.

  The garage smelled of wood glue, dust, and the faint aroma of coffee from my mug and drifting from the kitchen through the open door. Sunlight angled through the back window, catching the clutter of boxes and old armor bags stacked around as they followed me to the workbench.

  Picking up four of the wands I’d made, I handed them to the three Mages and the Witch. Warlocks were part of the Mage group.

  A quick REVEAL STATS on her showed her game name as Morticia. With the black clothes, black lipstick, and long black dress, her name didn’t surprise me. I’d checked after making the wands to be sure she could use one. As a Mage subclass, she could.

  “You can paint or stain these however you want,” I told them. “They each have a +1 INTELLIGENCE. That’ll help your hit and damage rolls, boost your magic skills, and bump your MANA POOL a bit.”

  Pausing, I added, “Don’t poke monsters with them unless you’re out of options and they’re too damn close. They’ll break. If they do, fixing or replacing them is on you. A dedicated focus helps. An enchanted one helps more.”

  Turning, I held out my hand toward James. “Let me see your sword. I’ll see what kind of edge my grinder can put on it.”

  “Wait right there!” the man barked. “My sons aren’t going to play your fantasy games. They’re too young. They’re not going to be part of this…this fantasy of yours.”

  “I’m guessing you’re their father,” I said. I looked at the woman beside him. “And mother.” She nodded.

  “First off, this isn’t a fantasy,” I said. “Ryan and Meg fought twice today. Ask them if it felt like a game. If you didn’t see what happened downtown yesterday, it’s all over the net. That was real… and real people died!” My voice rose, sharper than I meant.

  They flinched. I took a breath and let it out.

  Casting two REVEAL STATS, I spoke evenly. “Everyone here but you two has used their Character Creation Screen to add to what they were.” Heads nodded around the room. “Your sons aren’t kids anymore. Today, they fought like men.”

  “No! This isn’t real. None of this is real!” he shouted, fingers curling into a fist. “I believe in science, not magic!”

  “Yeah, well, Arthur C. Clarke once said, ‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’ Maybe what we do is advanced technology? If it casts like magic, heals like magic, does damage like magic…I’m going to call it magic.”

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  I looked at him. “Mr. Flanagan, what do you do for a living?”

  He blinked and leaned back slightly at the question, then said, “I’m a structural engineer for the county.”

  “Clarke was an engineer, too. Helped with radar and early satellites. Came up with geostationary communications satellites. He didn’t just stick with what had been done…he looked at what could be done. He believed in people’s willingness to help each other and make things better. That’s what I’m trying to do here.”

  Staring at him, I lifted my right hand, palm up, and cast MANA BOLT the way Blaze did with her fire, but didn’t release it. A light blue ball shaped glow flickered above my hand, bright in the dusty garage.

  “No! Will, don’t do it!” James jumped in front of his dad; shield raised. “I can’t let you hurt him. He’s my father.”

  A quick REVEAL STATS on him finally showed his game name: Falstaff the Bold. He’d added STRENGTH and CONSTITUTION, leveled Sword and Shield, and taken CHARGE. I had more Hit Points, but I’d just hit Level 9 this morning after last night’s battles and helping with the spawns this morning. I closed my hand, canceling the MANA BOLT.

  “No, James, I won’t shoot you or him. I know you could take it…but you proved my point. You’re a protector. A defender. You stepped in front of your father when you thought he was in danger.”

  "Mr. Flanagan. Meet your son…a guardian. We call them tanks.”

  His eyes flicked between James and me, uncertain.

  “Tanks stand out front, saying, ‘Hit me, I dare you,’ so they can protect others who keep them healed and supported. Isn’t that what a man should do?”

  Mr. Flanagan winced.

  “I’m not going to leave!” Jack’s voice cut through the silence. Everyone turned, startled. Jack stepped around his parents and brother, unsheathing his sword from the scabbard in the sash he wore. Kneeling in front of me, he held it up to me with both hands, head bowed.

  “Warchief, I, Yoshimori Takeda, also known as Jack Flanagan, pledge my blade to the defense of Eddington.”

  I stared, wide-eyed, mouth open, as gasps filled the garage. How the hell do I handle this? Make it right? At least he swore to protect Eddington, not me…

  I looked up at his parents, who seemed stunned, and got an idea.

  “Yoshimori. Present both your sword and scabbard to me, upright.”

  He drew his scabbard slowly from his sash, while holding his katana upright with the other hand, looking unsure.

  “Hold both tight,” I instructed him.

  His knuckles turned white. I placed my hands on each side of the scabbard.

  “Let this be your strength of arm and resolve to protect those who can’t protect themselves,” I said, casting +1 STRENGTH on it.

  The garage wasn’t dark, but the MANA blue glow was unmistakable. Mr. Flanagan started to say something, but his wife touched his arm.

  Then, I placed my hands on each side of the blade, letting out a breath. “Use this blade to defend those who would be harmed. Keep it sharp to cut through the false to what is true. Use it only against those who would harm others. Let it be the manifestation of your spirit…to protect.”

  I cast +1 DEXTERITY on it, the glow of MANA flaring again along the steel.

  Everyone in the garage was watching. I’d done a bit of theater in high school and college, and this bit of theater had every eye focused on us. “I hope I have the strength to finish this…and that his sword is sharp enough.”

  “To seal your pact with Eddington,” I said, running my left thumb down the blade, pressing hard. "Damn! Shit!" I held up my hand. Blood welled and dripped from it.

  It hurt. It hurt a lot more than it seems to hurt people in the movies.

  “Ryan, grab some paper towels,” I said, and pointed at a roll on my workbench.

  He rushed over, tore off a couple sheets and handed them to me. I wiped my thumb, showing the blood, and handed the other towel to Yoshimori. “Always wipe your blade clean before you sheathe it.”

  He wiped the blade, staring at the red stain, then sheathed the sword and stood.

  “Art, heal this, will ya? It hurts like hell.”

  That broke the tension, laughter rising in the garage as Art stepped forward. The blood stopped, the pain fading as he healed me.

  It had only taken a point of damage. I’d taken more than that this morning.

  I’d live.

  Musical Interlude:

  World of WarCraft - Samurai Jack Theme Song - Official Video

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