Once Emily calmed, I addressed a very serious issue. “Emily, I need you to listen to me. Under no circumstances are you to say you’re my sister. If anyone asks, you need to say—”

  The door swung open, and Brooke exited the building, arms full of weapons. She leaned the machete, fire axe, and baseball bat against the wall before saying, “I got some SPAM. It’s the only thing that’s small enough to fit in our pockets. You wouldn’t believe how much pineapple is in that place. The cans are as large as my skull.”

  I was exasperated that Brooke came out right before my explanation, but I couldn’t be mad. Instead of coming out mopey after killing a man, she acted, collecting food and weapons. The only thing she deserved was a “thank you,” so I gave her one.

  “Thanks for taking the initiative,” I said. “How’s David? Did you check?”

  “Still unconscious,” she replied.

  I cocked an eyebrow. “How? Anyone with the power to kill Chosens shouldn’t’ve been knocked out by some drywall.”

  “He didn’t hit drywall. His neck smashed into a pipe. It’s kinda eerie, actually. The pipe was at an angle and his body curved to hit it straight on. It’s hard to explain how clean it looks. It gives me the chills.”

  “That’s crazy… Well, I’ll go grab him. I owe ‘em a great debt, so I’d appreciate if you helped me a bit longer.”

  “You want to get him fledgling?”

  “Yeah. Seems like the right thing to do. That said, this is a two-person team. It’d be wrong to do it without your consent.”

  Brooke studied me, thoughts unknown. Her eyes trailed to Emily. “Yeah, sure.” She didn’t explain further.

  I smiled, complex emotions welling in me. It’d suck when she left. I knew it.

  Brooke eyed the green badge on Emily’s blouse. “Did you see anyone else with that?” she asked.

  “Not sure. I woke up alone.”

  “Do you mind if I see it?”

  “Sure.”

  Emily handed it to her, and Brooke closed her eyes. Not a moment later, Brooke laughed.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I found one,” she replied, using a tone that suggested she found ten. “We gotta hurry, though. They’re in trouble.”

  “Got it,” I said. “I’ll grab David.”

  Emily proved useful by saying, “I’ll carry the weapons,” and picking them up. It was almost comical to see her try to hold all of them.

  Brooke smiled gently. “I’ll take half,” she said, and did.

  Yeah, it’d suck when Brooke left. That’s what I was thinking when I walked into the room to collect David. Sure enough, Brian was dead. To my surprise, Brooke stabbed him through the spine, making it appear as if he died of natural causes.

  That woman, I thought. The scene with Brian stuck with me, but it lost its bite when I saw what Brooke was talking about. Somehow, David had crashed into the wall at a seventy-degree angle—the perfect angle to crumple a partially diagonal water pipe with the back of his neck. That’s why David was unconscious.

  Brooke was right. Something about how clean the attack looked gave me chills—and I didn’t know why. Pushing it aside, I heaved David over my shoulder. Then, I made sure Brooke had my sniper, and we rolled out, en route to the next fledgling.

  ***

  The second fledgling was in a Twin Peaks streetcar, the modern equivalent of a British tram. It was a bus on a track that went on a predetermined path through the city. Such vehicles were usually safer than normal cars, but not today, they weren’t. There was a group of seagulls perched on the streetcar, each the size of kangaroos, squawking their heads off. One saw us and immediately determined we were competitors for its prey. It acted. The bird flew off the vehicle, circled around, and then dove at the bus like a kamikaze bomber. Its beak smashed right through the streetcar’s window, breaking the vehicle off its tracks. The bus tilted about thirty degrees before crashing back onto its wheels.

  The seagull instantly regretted the attack. Its head got stuck in the safety glass, leaving it squawking as the boy inside the streetcar screamed.

  The other seagulls hopped around the roof to look at their stuck companion.

  That gave me an opportunity to practice. I lifted the Barrett M107 sniper rifle with greater precision, time slowing under my heightened perception. It took a few seconds to get the scope to unblur, but I had plenty of time, so I took a deep breath, captured one in my sights—and pulled the trigger.

  The rifle released a cracking boom of thunder in my ear—the perfect sound to announce my failure.

  It wasn’t my sight that made me miss—it was the flinching. I got super nervous as I anticipated the boom and flinched. I could see it happen in real time, but I was helpless to stop it. It was a mental thing.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t get another free shot. The birds took flight, both flying toward me.

  I aimed again, making the most of my superhuman perception. I shot three times in rapid succession. To my shock, a bullet hit the left seagull in the head. The wound was small, but the chime sounded true.

  You have killed Level 19 Squawker

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Brooke!” I yelled as the other reached us.

  Brooke jumped forward, sword in hand, only to realize a major problem. She couldn’t slash downward—the thing would plow into her. The angle was too awkward. “What am I supposed to—”

  I tossed the gun and grabbed the baseball bat from Emily’s hand, and pushed Emily aside as I pulled back the bat. The Squawker dove at us, beak open. I swung.

  (Baseball bats rule.)

  That’s what I determined when I sidestepped the bird and swung. The baseball bat slammed between the two sides of its beak, and its head exploded as the bird spun. Its wings slammed into me, sending me rolling. Thankfully, I was the only one hit as the bird crumpled into a bloody heap behind me.

  An invisible crowd cheered my home run.

  (“And remember, folks, this kid’s a bona fide rookie!”)

  I snapped back to reality and saw Emily shaking, on the verge of tears. “I-I thought you were gonna…”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, jumping up and offering my hand. “I’m pretty badass now.”

  She accepted my hand gingerly and let me pull her up.

  “You’re awfully doting,” Brooke noted suspiciously.

  My entire mood shifted, and I threw on my strongest poker face. “We’ve been best friends since childhood. So of course I am.”

  “Not to press, but she seems a bit young for that,” Brooke countered.

  Emily jumped in. “Our parents were friends, so we grew up together. We weren’t friends at first; he was more like a brother. But the older we get, the friender we become.”

  I thought Emily entered dangerous territory by saying the word “brother,” but Brooke blinked in surprise and appeasement. It seemed my sister was far better at lying than I thought. It made me question how many times she had lied about how she was feeling at the hospital.

  It disturbed me.

  “Sorry for questioning you…” Brooke looked between us and then eyed the streetcar. “Shall we?”

  I nodded. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  It was satisfying to kick through a bus’s door with a single stomp, but the nonstop screeching ruined the mood. The “Squawker” was thrashing around, shedding feathers as it tried to pull its head free from the webbed safety glass. All it accomplished was a partial degloving of its neck—a truly horrific sight. Fortunately for us, that degloved area was the perfect weak spot for Emily to strike.

  “Emily,” I said hesitantly, turning to her. “I’m not sure if you’ve gotten an explanation of what’s going on, but we have. So, we can confirm that this isn’t a simulation. This is the real world—at least what it will look like a few months after we finish this ‘Tutorial.’ So… while I’d love to join you in college like I promised… this is how things are now.” I pulled the fire axe from her hand and offered it to her. “Do you understand?”

  Emily slowly put down the other weapons, hesitated, then grabbed the axe. “Yeah…”

  “And you know people get stronger by killing things?”

  She nodded again.

  “Good. Then…” I nudged my head toward the bird. “Let’s adapt.”

  Emily’s eyes flitted with fear, but she gritted her teeth and nodded a third time. “Okay.”

  My sister was a fighter; she faced cancer and won. This was nothing. So, she lifted the axe above the creature’s bloody neck—and swung.

  It took seven whacks of a beast-bone super axe for a Level 0 Chosen to kill a Level 19 Squawker—but she did it. The scene was unsettling, something straight out of a horror movie, but when she finished, she dropped to a chair, laughed, and then cried.

  Those tears came out hot—but they abruptly ended when she noticed the terrified boy in the back seat of the streetcar. Her motherly instincts took over, and she instantly decided to be strong. She rubbed her eyes and said, “Don’t worry!” cheerily. “These are just tears of joy. I’m just so glad we saved you.”

  His fear eased in an instant, and he stopped pushing himself into a corner.

  “Good work,” Brooke said, strangely. I glanced at her and saw her swallowing, fighting back her emotions. I wanted to ask why she was reacting so strongly, but I also didn’t—so I didn’t ask.

  “We gotta go,” I said. “If we wait, the desperation will be greater.”

  Emily nodded. “One sec.” She walked to the boy. “What’s your name?”

  “My name is… Daniel,” he said. “But mommy calls me Danny.”

  (Blade in ribs.)

  (Twist.)

  “Well my name’s Emily,” she said. “And I’m going to take you to safety. If your mommy’s anywhere. She’ll be there.”

  “Really?”

  “If anywhere. You wanna find out?”

  He nodded timidly.

  “Okay. Let’s go.” We did. I grabbed David’s still unconscious body, and we slowly made our way back to the library.

  Emily was struggling to process everything she saw, so we took a break underneath the 5th Avenue underpass.

  It was a nice, isolated area with plenty of space, so it always had high-quality graffiti. The last image was of a large Pikachu, along with the graph letters for “Colgate.” I liked it.

  Emily sat to my right, Danny in her lap as we ate SPAM with our fingers. It felt shameful, but so it goes.

  Brooke didn’t eat. She just stared at the ceiling, forearms on her knees, thinking. I felt guilty to have my sister beside me after she lost her brother, but that’s just how it was. At the end of the day, I did what I had to do to protect my own.

  “There’s vultures by the library’s door,” Brooke suddenly warned. “They’re stealing fledglings.”

  I frowned. “You just check?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Shoot ‘em.”

  Emily winced. I didn’t yield or clarify. This was my sister’s life—she could hate or fear me if she wanted, but she’d be safe when she did it.

  “I don’t think that’s wise,” Brooke said. “If you kill people with a rifle, it’ll destroy your reputation. In the worst way.”

  “Yeah…” I thought about it. “Well, if we can’t do that… we’ll just have to take care of ‘em up close.”

  “You think you can do that?”

  “They’re letting people get close right?”

  “Yeah, but… that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking if you can… do it?”

  “Oh…” I considered it. I had just killed three people, albeit one indirectly. It shouldn’t have felt easy, but it did. “I… don’t know,” I answered. “I mean, yeah, I can definitely do it, even though I feel like I shouldn’t be able to. I don’t know. I think this is just one of those situations that feels fine in the moment, but’ll require a boatload of counseling to fix in the future.”

  Brooke smiled grimly. “Yeah.”

  “But yeah. I can. So come on.” I stood. “Let’s send a warning.”