Eventually, you had to go numb to being horrified.

  The only bright spot about this trip into town was discovering that you could schedule items to be delivered, probably through the fast travel system or some magical bullshit. Brom was beyond speculating at this point. Instead, all he could see around him were people who had been fine yesterday morning and now were in a state worse than death. They were alive but prisoners of their own flesh, unable to fight against the programming the System had sunk deep into them. They couldn't do anything but carry out whatever role they had been forced into.

  "Hey, Uncle Brom? Uh, can I go to the mall for a bit? Jordan told me a bunch of the others from school are meeting up there. We're in a safe zone, and if anything comes up, I can get you on comms and I-"

  "Yeah. Go ahead. There's somewhere I gotta go anyway." For a moment, he just stood, eyes staring into the middle distance as his mind was too busy piecing together thoughts that splintered right back apart, shying away from a very painful truth. TJ's hug was a warm anchor when it came, and he patted the teen on the shoulder, shooing him off. "Get going. Let me know if you're coming back to the house with me or if you're staying in town." He wanted to encourage the teen to stay in town, where it was obviously safe, but that would mean TJ had to stay in one of two places, neither of which might be acceptable.

  After all, if he went home, JJ would be there, and TJ was already having issues with his father. But the only other place was... well, his grandparents and both of them were over fifty.

  "Yeah, I'll figure it out and let you know." TJ took a few steps away before turning back. "You gonna be okay?"

  "Even if I said no, it still wouldn't be your problem, kiddo. Go on, see how your friends are doing. We'll talk later."

  This time, TJ didn't turn back, and Brom didn't say anything else, he just waited as his nephew's form shifted and shimmered, then vanished. Fast travel was convenient, but for what Brom was about to do, he needed to walk. He needed to fortify himself and to clear his head.

  He didn't like visiting his parents when they were normal. They didn't particularly like him visiting either, so the distance he kept was better for everyone involved. For as long as he could remember, their relationship had been some degree of strained. As a middle child, there was almost this unspoken universal truth that he was going to suffer from a degree of neglect. His eldest brother was the golden child, spared the curse of the eldest by being the best and the favorite. His youngest brother was, well, the baby and always received a degree of spoiling because of that. Brom had been an unsavory filling between two vastly more appealing cookies.

  JJ had been the sports star. The one with big league dreams ruined by the reality of the sports machine. Mason had been the intellectual. The one who'd gotten grades that made the family proud and gone into a career that could be bragged about. Compared to both of them, Brom's artistic talent had been something that brought no value that could be capitalized on. They'd all expected him to amount to nothing, and the failure of the bands he'd joined had just kept proving them right. His rage. His rebellion. His poor life choices. All of it had been no surprise to them. They'd only ever expected him to embarrass them and make his brothers look good just by comparison.

  He should have just become a chef. There'd been that opportunity to go to culinary school, he'd gone on tour with his buddies in hopes that bar gigs might help push his savings to the point where he could afford the initial tuition. He was sure he could have convinced his parents. Then, well, things had happened. A couple of arrests. A couple of nights sobering up in jail. Nothing that stuck. But it followed him all the same. Bad decisions that just snowballed, and suddenly, he had no money, no trust, and no more opportunity.

  Now here he was, back for the first time since his grandfather's funeral a year ago. Standing at the edge of the white picket fence in what was arguably Cold Bay's most suburban neighborhood, looking at those perfectly trimmed rhododendrons and manicured lawn. The garage was closed, but there was a neat looking trap carriage in the driveway. Would they answer the door if he knocked?

  "Where's my son?"

  Brom's eyes snapped to the figure that had been initially obscured by the body of the parked carriage.

  Jason Jones, the monster of Brom's youth, was much diminished these days. JJ's build was still fit and powerful, calling to mind TJ's earlier words about how his dad had been trying to recapture his glory for his class reunion. He'd been at least partly successful. It was just unfortunate that Brom's newly acquired commanding height difference only highlighted JJ's loss of hair, not his gains of muscle.

  "He's at the mall. I guess a bunch of the kids are gathering there to check in with each other. I'm sure he'll get around to calling you eventually, JJ." Force of habit had Brom making himself smaller in his brother's presence. Hands were stuffed deep in pockets, shoulders defensively hunched. Ready to weather the storm of scolding or the physical blows that were likely to come. It was hard to overcome all those years of behavior all at once.

  JJ snapped, crossing the distance and reaching up to seize Brom by his lapels. "You didn't think to bring him straight to me? Didn't you think I'd be worried? He's my fucking son, Brom!"

  Their faces were only inches apart, the similarities between them just as stark as their differences were. Same grey eyes, same strong jaw sporting a day of stubble at this point, same high nose bridge. But where JJ's mouth was too pinched, Brom's was a little too wide. JJ's cheeks were more rounded, whereas Brom's were pulled up by his cheekbones. JJ's thinning hair was a darker ruddy brown, the red only coming out in the sun, while Brom had the russet hue of their ancestors.

  He broke them apart with a firm push. Not strong, he wasn't looking to hurt JJ, but he wanted him out of his face. "Yeah, he fucking is, and he's fucking pissed at you. Why do you think he was at my house in the first place, JJ? Huh? How many times are you going to put him through that kind of instability because you can't keep your shit in your shorts?!" Fuck it, time to put all the dirty laundry on display. If JJ wanted to get into it, then the driveway was as good a place as any.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Clearly, the words had hit a nerve, the elder Jones brother blowing like a wounded bull, the red flush climbing his neck. "It was a mistake-"

  "It's your favorite mistake! How many times is this, JJ?! Three?! Four?! Fuck I can't keep track of your affairs!"

  "Oh, that's rich coming from an addict like you. Were you even sober when Junior showed up?" JJ laughed, stepping back into Brom's space like a terrier squaring up against a doberman. "Did he have to scrape you up off the floor and pour you into a shower? I don't want Junior ending up involved in your crap so you can pretend to be the 'cool' uncle. Filling his head full of stupid shit. Gonna get him hooked on drugs too, Brom? So that he can end up just as big a wa-"

  Brom's fist was lightning fast, thrown with full force before he was even aware of his action, clocking JJ square in the face. It felt like he was decking a rock, not the punchable face of one Jason Jones.

  HP: 598/600

  [Reminder: Pvp is not permitted in safe zones!]

  JJ definitely felt the blow, though, his hands flashing up to cup his face as he reeled off balance. With a soft thud, he ended up on his ass in the driveway, slowly lowering his hands and revealing a split lip. "Real mature." He gritted the words out with a wince.

  "You shut your fucking mouth, Jason Jones." Brom's voice vibrated in a register that made pagan gods pay attention. "I would never, ever, introduce TJ to that shit. I have spent the past twenty-four hours putting my skin between that boy and danger. Unlike the rest of you people, TJ's still got the chance to be a decent fucking human being. He's just unfortunately been saddled with a pathetic tool like you as a male role model, and our parents enabling you to be like that. Only now our parents have been hollowed out by this goddamn System and filled up with some Stepford Wives levels of bullshit."

  "That do-"

  Brom clapped his hands, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "Shut up. I'm not done talking, and for fucking once you're going to listen till I am. Are we clear on that, Jason?"

  JJ ran his tongue along the inside of his lip, spitting out blood that would stain the driveway concrete, eyes burning. "Crystal."

  "Good. Good. Now I want you to listen, you five-ten, but you'll say you're six feet on your dating profile, mother fucker. Your son is three steps from hating you like I hate Dad. Every time we have a conversation, he gets in a dig against you. Not only does he doubt that you love him, his insecurities are starting to fester. That shit ring might not ring any bells for you, Mom and Dad spent your entire life gilding your goddamn balls, but it sets off a shit load of alarms for me. Because that's my life, JJ. I lived it. That's how I ended up here, screaming at you for all the neighbors to hear. You are on the fast track to end up dying unvisited in a nursing home because your only son would rather skydive naked than visit you."

  By now, faces were peeking through curtains, whether it was because the NPCs were supposed to look outside when there were disturbances or because these neighbors were young enough to have minds of their own and nosy enough to care about the two people shouting nearby. To be fair, Brom had lowered his voice, he didn't feel he needed to shout to make his point, but that didn't change the fact that they were making a scene.

  JJ spat more blood. "What do you know? You want to play dad, go have your own kid."

  "You're right, I'm not a dad, but JJ, just having a kid doesn't make you one either. What you're putting TJ through isn't fair, and he's not thanking you for it. Look at it this way, if good old family fuck-up Brom can see it, it's pretty damn bad." He sighed and stepped forward, being the bigger man both physically and metaphorically, offering a hand to his brother.

  As expected, JJ slapped it away, getting to his feet on his own. The elder Jones brother dusted himself off, tapping fingers to his split lip again and flinching. From the way his jaw was looking a little red, he'd probably have a nasty bruise there later, too. It helped make his expression look extra surly, but at least he didn't seem like he was interested in trading blows.

  Not that it would have been a fair trade, when it came to trading blows, Brom's fists came with import taxes.

  "We're done with this conversation, Brom. Done. I want you to stay away from my son, too."

  "I'm not the one initiating contact! JJ, he's the one who came looking for me! When Grandpa died, I didn't go around introducing myself at the funeral. I just showed up to mourn. TJ's the one who started popping up in my life after that. I don't know, maybe it's teenage rebellion, and you guys shit-talked me so hard I became cool by default. I used to try sending him on his way, but then I figured out that he was a good kid, and you know what, you should be proud of him for it. He came looking for me to hear me out. Get my side of things. He's been coming back ever since, and fuck if I know why, I'm a miserable bastard to be around!"

  "We can agree on that."

  It was the first thing they'd agreed on in a long time.

  "Look, can we put this aside for now? I really didn't come here to fight with you. I came here because I wanted to see Mom and Dad. There's something wrong with anyone fifty and older. The System has done some nasty shit to them, and I wanted to know how bad it did things to them."

  "The Stepford Wives bullshit you mentioned?" It seemed JJ had at least listened during the fight. His body posture remained hostile, and his words were terse, but he was willing to hear Brom out on the Issue of their parents. "This time of day, they're probably at the shop. Business hasn't been good, economy and all, so Dad's had to start opening up on Saturdays. Light work, oil changes, and the like. Mom's been running the counter.

  That sent a shiver down Brom's back. The shop, Jones Autobody and Glass, was the family business that had consumed every one of his summers from eight to eighteen. In a world without cars what had it become? If the gas station was now a feed store, what would a mechanic shop be?

  "Oh. This could be bad..."