“Twenty-four hour cafes are a surreal experience. Unless you’re actually working third shift there’s this weird feeling of wrongness. Even the wait staff can feel it. ‘What am I doing here? Why am I eating a burger at three in the morning? How did my life come to this?’”

  Wally sprinted up a ramp leading to level 5, sublevel 2, passing cars and bewildered pedestrians. Was this how Jett felt? Jett probably looked a little cooler. Still, Wally thought he had an inkling why the speed was so addictive.

  His new legs were working great. Maybe a little too great. His upper body didn’t quite know how to keep up, so he found himself flailing and flopping gracelessly as he metallically clomped along. He was just glad he’d built so many self-correcting functions into the legs, or he’d have faceplanted or plowed into a wall many times over by now.

  At last he arrived at the L5-I12 precinct. But the door was locked. It was almost midnight, so he supposed it made sense that it was closed. But now what?

  There were multiple officers in the lobby. One noticed him and quizzically came to the door. His hand rested on his sidearm. Nerds with cybernetic legs probably weren’t an everyday occurrence.

  “Can I help ya, son?” he asked. “You in trouble?”

  “Uh, a-are visiting hours over?”

  “Visiting hours?” the officer smirked, and Wally felt himself blush. How was he supposed to know what they were called? “We closed to the public six hours ago, son. Who were you hoping to see?”

  “Uh, Jett Fulgen? Red?”

  Now the cop burst out laughing. Wally wasn’t quite sure why. He crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders.

  “You serious, kid? What are you, a fan?”

  “I’m his roommate. I wanted to see if he was ok.”

  The officer frowned, looking down. “The hell is all over your legs?”

  “They’re prosthetics. I just finished making them.”

  “Uh, right. Well son, you can come back when we open in the morning. You got a doctor’s note for those things?”

  “No, I just finished them, like I said. Doctor’s offices aren’t open on Saturdays.”

  “Those are probably gonna trip the metal detector, son.”

  “Oh.” Wally hadn’t thought of that. He wasn’t sure his face could feel any hotter. “Yeah, they might.”

  The cop sighed and rubbed his face. “Can you uh, transfer from those things to a wheelchair?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ok, here’s what I can do. We open at eight. I’ll request a wheelchair and notify the morning shift you’ll be coming. Mister…?”

  It took Wally a second to realize that was a question. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been called “Mister” before. “Uh, Wally Donner. Thanks.”

  “Have a good evening, Wally Donner. Are you safe to get home?”

  “Don’t worry about that.” There wouldn’t be a home to go to for much longer anyway.

  The officer shut the door and locked it back, throwing one more glance over his shoulder as he went to join his fellow officers.

  Wally looked around and spotted a twenty-four hour diner catty-cornered from the precinct. That’d work.

  “Hey,” said the waitress. “Are you finished?”

  Wally picked his head up off the table, yawned and stretched. He must have dozed off. He slurped down some of his cold coffee—grimacing at the taste—and held the cup out for the waitress to refill.

  “All you’ve ordered is coffee. Refills are free, but you can’t just hang out here for hours!”

  “Why not?” Wally did his best Jett impersonation, which wasn’t very good. “Is someone else waiting to be seated?” The diner was nearly empty. Only one other table was occupied. It was a group of rowdy teenagers. They were clearly reveling in the freedom of being allowed to eat burgers in the small hours of the morning without adult supervision.

  Wally cleared his throat awkwardly, all of his cockiness used up by that one line. “Look. I need to wait for a place to open up for the morning. I’ll sip my coffee quietly, I won’t make a mess or a scene, I’ll pay and tip when I leave.”

  With the last of the money I’m likely to have for the foreseeable future, he didn’t add.

  The waitress rolled her eyes, but wasn’t able to come up with a good objection. She left Wally alone.

  This was it, he thought. He and Jett were both screwed. When the sun rose he’d go talk to Jett, make sure his friend wasn’t beating himself up too badly over all of this. But then what? No job, no money, no home. His only friend in jail. Just him, his tablet, and his new legs. However long they lasted until they broke or bugged out. They were just a prototype, after all, and this was just a test run.

  The weight of it all made Wally want to just curl up in a ball until something forced him to move. His only cope–maybe the one he’d leaned on far too much over the years–was simply not thinking about it. Why was he here? Jett couldn’t fix anything from jail; quite the opposite. But it was all he could think to do. The only thing he could cling to.

  So he whiled the time away. He alternated looking at his tablet, to dozing, to staring out at the dark street. Because of that, he spotted the black car that pulled up to the curb just before the traffic light, and the two suited figures who stepped out. He watched them point at the precinct. They appeared to be arguing. He watched the tall dark-skinned man pop the trunk and move several black briefcases there from the backseat. He watched them jump back in the car and head toward the precinct.

  Wally snapped a picture of the license plate before they drove off.

  Most of the class menu was useless to me for the moment, a mishmash of secondaries and tiers and other terms that wouldn’t come into play yet. The only item that was lit up had the heading “Starter Packs,” with an indicator that said I had three left to pick.

  ?Ok bud, I don’t know if you’ve noticed a pattern, but this is the part where I tell you I have no idea what the hell this is, and you tell me why I should be excited.?

  [It’s pretty simple. Each pack has one or two skills along with some increases to your stats. This is where you will begin to customize your fighting style. There will probably be a lot of options.]

  He wasn’t kidding. There were more than a hundred, roughly categorized. I examined one: Unarmed Combat Start Pack. It included skills called Muscle Memory and Hand to Hand Combat Aptitude, along with an alacrity-focused boost to physical stats.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  [Muscle memory accelerates your learning on the physical level,] the lecti explained. [Punches, kicks, stabs, more complex moves. You will learn them naturally and intuit ways to use them more effectively. Most of these physical packs will come with that and an emphasis on a particular weapon type—or lack of one, in this case.]

  I started scanning the list. ?Huh. There are several firearm starter packs.?

  [Excuse me? Firewhat?]

  He gasped with delight as I set him to research guns. I was no expert, so my library was sparse, but he was very excited about the use of fire and explosions to propel projectiles.

  ?Why are these on the list? Doesn’t this aether system go back thousands of years before they were even invented??

  [Enough sorcerers must have synthesized the skill that it’s been added to the universal codex. I can see why, too. You should definitely take one of these!]

  ?Ok, first of all, they’re ranged weapons only, so they won’t let me take advantage of my strength. They’re also kind of redundant with my other ranged attacks. Plus they’re really, really not my style.?

  The lecti whimpered in frustration, but I eventually talked him down. The clincher was that guns didn’t deal damage with fire itself, but with the projectiles they shot. That led him to conclude that guns would work better for a metal sorcerer than one who used fire, which tracked. At least, I knew of a popular buddy cop series where both of the main characters were metal sorcerers. That had to mean something, right?

  I zeroed in on my main goal. ?Hey, is there a skidstick starter pack? Or any kind of skid equipment??

  [No,] he said testily. [Toys are not weapons.]

  ?You know, you really should see them in action before you write them off. You can use the booster to add extra force to your attacks and hit much, much harder. You basically have to wear armor head to toe during a skid brawl, and even then injuries are common.?

  The lecti sighed. [If you insist, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to do some experimenting. You would have to learn the technique I mentioned before: skill synthesis. It allows you to add skills to the system that aren’t already there. However, it requires an exact vision of what you want, a strong will, and an existing skill to synthesize from. Describe this ‘stick’ to me again.]

  I did. He brushed off all technical details and was mostly concerned with the stick’s size, shape, and weight. Its utility as a weapon.

  [So, as I see it, your weapon of choice is most similar to a quarterstaff or a spear. Either will probably apply at least part of their bonus to your skidstick. I would recommend choosing the spear, and modifying your own stick into one when you get the chance.]

  ?Like… a pointy spear??

  [Is there another kind?]

  This was slowly becoming real to me. I was preparing myself to fight, and to fight other people. And not just to knock them silly or teach them a lesson. ?Geez, dude. I don’t want to kill anyone.?

  [What did you say you were in jail for again?]

  ?Skidding where I wasn’t supposed to and resisting arrest. And an incident early this evening involving a dumbass with a gun, but that wasn’t really my fault.?

  [And they put you in jail for that?]

  ?I know, right? See, I’m not that big of a delinquent.?

  [No, you’re worse. You are a failure even at being a failure. You are afraid of holding a weapon with a blade? How will you become a warrior? Will you refuse to burn people with your aether as well?]

  ?You know, I’m starting to feel like I can’t win with you. Honestly? I think I could get my hands dirty if I absolutely had to, ok? Especially if it was to protect people. I just don’t want to kill someone if I don’t have to. Even if they’re a bad person. Not if there’s another way to stop them.?

  [A fair enough sentiment. Even noble. I guess. But consider the utility of a sharp blade enhanced by fire. Suppose you want to cut through a door’s hinges, or break people from bonds? And if you really want to save lives, if you want people to surrender peacefully, what will motivate them more? A staff, or a spear?]

  Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. Intimidation factor. I imagined how the showdown with Troy would have gone if I’d held the tip of a glowing hot spear against his neck. He—well okay, a smart person would have backed down. But maybe Troy would have too. ?That idea actually doesn’t suck.?

  I heard some paper shuffling, followed by a grunt. It actually sounded a bit sad, like he’d been hoping I was giving him more than a backhanded compliment. [Anyway, if worst comes to worst, you can eventually ‘undo’ a decision if you decide it simply doesn’t work.]

  That got me on board, if reluctantly. It took some hunting to find the spear starter pack because it didn’t actually say “Spear.” It said “Lancer.”

  I studied my hands for a moment, thinking about the Muscle Memory skill. Tentatively, I punched the air. ?Am I supposed to feel different? Muscle Memory should work with or without a weapon, right? I—?

  I sat up. Something did seem different. I swung again, and I felt something… correct me, subtly. The angle of my punch shifted slightly. My shoulders and back responded differently. I had the strange intuitive sense that the small correction—which I couldn’t properly describe—would be more powerful and less strenuous on my body.

  ?Is that what it’s supposed to do??

  [Yes, good, good. But we can practice with your skills later. For your remaining packs you will want to enhance your fire skills. I recommend the Unending Torch and Concussive Fireball packs for now. Once you reach level 10 you might go with an Immolate variant, or you might consider picking up Fire Beam, which is an excellent longer range skill.]

  ?Ok, geez, slow down.?

  I perused the packs the lecti indicated. Unending Torch was, frankly, kind of horrifying. It made my torch’s flame “stick” to whatever surface it touched, like napalm, continuing to burn for a period of time before finally going out. The lecti insisted it had defensive utility, because I could create deadly fire barriers to stop pursuers and trap enemies. Still, this leaned heavily into the crueler aspects of fire. I set it aside for now.

  The Concussive Fireball pack looked more promising. It traded raw heat for an explosive punch. It would be excellent against walls or vehicles, and it would severely disrupt human targets without roasting them. I locked that one in, leaving me one more pack to pick.

  The lecti pushed again for something in the Torch category. I thought again about what training a giant aetheric blowtorch on a fellow human would actually mean. Burns hurt, and they often left a permanent mark. I still vividly remembered that incident at the summer camp. How badly those burns had stung. How they had blistered and peeled. How they were shiny and the skin hurt to stretch, but I had to do it anyway.

  And that wasn’t even the worst it got. The kid I’d gone back and helped… well, everyone said I’d saved his life. But he’d been in the hospital for weeks. Horribly disfigured. Permanent scarring. Tons of physical therapy. At the end of it all, he’d still lost function in one of his hands. He thanked me. His parents thanked me profusely. I vaguely remembered some kind of medal ceremony. That wasn’t what stuck in my mind. What stuck was how he’d looked, despite my best efforts.

  Did I really want to do that to other people? On purpose? Even really horrible people? Worse, what if an innocent person got caught in the crossfire? Sorry about that, have fun with your skin grafts?

  I looked at the smallest category on the list: Support. As I expected, this was where healing skills lived. They were mostly designed for self healing. Enhancing my regeneration or the effects of absorbing fire. There was a notable exception, however.

  The Heal Burns starter pack came with a powerful, enhanced healing skill specifically designed for burns. It mostly affected heat burns, but would have a lesser effect on chemical burns or even frostbite. It also came with a Contrite modifier, which further enhanced effectiveness if I used it to heal burns I myself had inflicted

  It was like a Ctrl-Z if I went overboard or made a mistake. I could hardly believe it.

  [Don’t tell me you’re seriously considering that.]

  ?Hey, look at it this way. If I know I can heal bad guys after the fact, I won’t be as worried about how much I burn them during the fight. You don’t want me to be timid in battle? This is how we both win.?

  [Hmph. Well. I suppose that makes a certain sense. It still seems like a waste of a starter pack.]

  ?You won’t have to deal with it for long, right??

  The lecti didn’t reply. I locked it in, and an unexpected message came through in the amulet’s flat voice.

  Achievement Unlocked: Benevolent. You have chosen a healing skill in one of your first three starter packs as a DPS class. This achievement is sponsored by Shone Gibermo. You have earned a boon.

  ?What does that mean??

  [That is a surprise. Achievements are rare, especially when you don’t have a patron yet. A Shone, one of the powerful spirits that architected the aether system, must be impressed enough by your actions to grant you a sliver of his or her power.]

  ?That means I’m not an idiot, right??

  [Hmm. No more than the Shone is. Some of them can be quite sentimental. I’m not very familiar with Gibermo, but she’s associated with healing. You will have a small list of options to select as your boon. Perhaps only some stat points, but it could be a useful skill. You will also have the Shone’s favor in any interactions you have with her. For now…]

  Suddenly I heard something in the distance. Shouting. Footsteps running in my direction. Several reverberating zaps that made my arm hairs stand on end. And then a sound that I’d only heard in person a few of times before, but that was fresh on my mind and was frankly hard to miss.

  Gunfire.

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