Stepping into the cargo bay of the Pineapple Express, I slump down against the Chinook with a groan. McKinley pokes her head down through the hatch that leads to the upper crew deck.

  “Are you alright, Mr. Ryans?”

  I wave her off, the headache lessening by the minute.

  “I will be. Take a look at the report I sent you when you get a chance. Are we still on track?”

  She checks her tablet before replying.

  “Yes, still heading to Atlanta. But they’ve had two more Fractures. They’re up to four now.”

  We’re interrupted by a slew of vehicles pulling up just behind the open cargo bay. Over a dozen familiar faces pile out.

  “Okay, 2nd Squad! Let’s go!” Callisto’s voice rings out, audible even over the spooling engines.

  They all start to pile into the C-5 and while most of them give me a wave before climbing up to the crew deck, Captain Rains and Sergeant Callisto stroll over to me. Her smile drops into a frown once she gets closer.

  “Shit, Ryans. You don’t look so good. You alright?”

  The cargo door starts to close with a whine.

  “Yeah, Sergeant, of course. It’s me, the indestructible robot knight. Why?”

  She gives me a questioning look.

  “Hm, just a feeling. If you say you’re good, you’re good. See ya in a bit, yeah? Gotta make sure my idiots don’t break the plane.”

  She follows the rest of her squad up the ladder to the crew deck. Captain Rains slides into a seat along the wall, dropping his duffle bag at his feet.

  “Uh, Captain, I don’t mean to be rude, but what are all of you doing here?”

  He gives me a smile.

  “Well, the brass wants a Captain to head your Tactical Operations Center,” he says, jerking a thumb towards the crew deck.

  “Now, I can guess what you’re thinking, and no, McKinley is still your liaison and will still be doing a lot of the heavy lifting. The brass just wants someone with a higher rank in case rank needs pulling.

  “I know so far it’s been pretty smooth sailing. You’ve been getting what you need, no questions asked. The brass is more than happy to hand you a blank check to get stuff done. You have a Lieutenant ordering around Colonels to get you what you need. But between you and me?”

  He leans forward and speaks softly.

  “The sharks are circling. Despite the carnage across America and the world, there are decision makers who dislike you and what you do for reasons beyond me,” he says, sighing.

  “It’s a minority, I assure you. Everyone you’ve worked with, every battle you’ve fought has made you far more friends than enemies. But… Ascended like yourself are super weapons who bend to nothing they don’t want to. That concerns the people in charge who don’t know you.”

  He leans back and rubs his face.

  “Well, that’s not important now. Anyway, as for 2nd Squad’s presence? The higher-ups want some dedicated infantry securing the Pineapple Express or to assist in securing Fractures. They’re more or less dedicated hands for us, if they’re needed.”

  “Well, I’m happy to see all of you, Captain. Really.”

  He gets up as the cargo doors close with a clunk.

  “Happy to be here, Mr. Ryans. You’re doing good work. You’ll get nothing less than all of our bests, I promise you.”

  He climbs the ladder as we take off, the roaring engines drowning out his footsteps. My armor clatters against the Chinook I lay against as we scrabble for the sky.

  Two and a half hours later finds me in the middle of an evacuated park, with a Fracture in front of me. Callisto and 2nd Squad swagger out from the second Chinook that lands just after mine. The Sergeant sidles up to me.

  “Well? Wadda think Ryans?”

  I rest my greatsword on my shoulder.

  “Cat-1. Shouldn’t be long, but we’ll see.”

  She gives me a nod.

  “Ayup. We’ll be here. Good hunting.”

  I exit the Fracture twenty minutes later, shaking off the remnants of a Dumpster Zombie, an even larger and more twisted form of a Trash Zombie. Callisto and 2nd Squad wrinkle their noses in disgust at the smell.

  The next two Fractures pass in a breeze, both of them being Cat-1s. Each one takes me less than thirty minutes as I blitz through them. Each time I leave, there’s always someone recording me. Some even give me cheers as they see me. Each crowd grows larger than the last, word of my presence having spread through the city like wildfire.

  As I exit the third Fracture in less than two hours, Callisto whistles in amazement.

  “Wow, holy shit Ryans. You’re real fuckin’ quick. You’re like a goddamn machine.”

  I look down at myself.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Yeah. A machine, huh?”

  Thor sagely nods.

  “Yes. A lean, mean, Fracture clearing machine.”

  He eyes my bulk.

  “Hm, perhaps not so lean. Still, the thought stands.”

  I’m lost in thought as the Chinook rumbles off, heading for the fourth and final Fracture in Atlanta.

  A machine, huh?

  I put a boot through another Constructo-Cat, a giant yellow metal leopard made out of a construction loader. It howls in pain as it goes flying, bearing rusty metal teeth.

  With its huge piston powered legs it launches itself back at me as it ignores the huge hole in its side. A thick reddish oil seeps out from the wound. I duck under the lunge and brace my sword against my shoulder. It slams into it face first, and falls into two halves as its own momentum cuts itself in half.

  This Cat-3 Fracture is a huge construction site the size of a city, and I’ve spent the better part of an hour making my way through the maze of half built buildings. The buildings are so densely packed that any attempt to jump to the center would require jumping through dozens of them.

  Their concrete and steel forms look like skeletons clawing at the false sky. Though the collateral damage isn’t a problem, trying to stay on course while flying through skyscrapers, even incomplete ones, is impossible without the actual ability to fly. Something I’m unfortunately lacking.

  An attempt to jump over them had me brushing against the outer boundaries of the Fracture, the strange, overcast-like sky warping oddly as I approached. It cut short any attempt to jump over the buildings. The closer I got, the slower I would approach it, no matter how fast I flew. The tips of the building scrape the outer boundary, and so I’m forced to travel on the ground.

  Despite moving swiftly, the Constructo-Cats are just quick enough to ambush me. Several fights have started with Constructo-Cats jumping out from dark corners or trenches and knocking me off course. On Earth I can see through walls and even through several feet of dirt, but with all the Potentia in the air and my inexperience at making any sense of it gives the monsters plenty of opportunities to jump me.

  Not having to kill every single monster in a Fracture does mean I can clear it far quicker than otherwise, though I wish I had time to explore them more thoroughly. I wonder what secrets we’re missing. If only we had the time.

  Another Constructo-Cat leaps out at me, and I obliterate it with a single punch. My fist slams into its snout at just below the speed of sound. It explodes with a thunderous explosion that sends steel fragments scattering off walls nearly a hundred stories up.

  I finally take the final corner and lay eyes on the boss. In a huge clearing is a massive golem made up of multiple cranes. At nearly forty feet tall, it has to be one of the largest monsters ever seen.

  I dash for a leg, dodging a slow, ponderous stomp that shakes the ground. A few wide, two handed sweeps with my sword severs a steel foot at the ankle, and it falls to the ground with a scream of twisted metal.

  In the center of its chest lies a huge engine the size of an SUV. I carve it up, ripping away metal. In the center lies an orange, glowing orb the size of a basketball. Heat and raw Potentia pours off of it.

  I bet Morgan would love to take a look at that.

  Instead of crushing it, I rip it out of the engine with a heave and another scream of metal giving way. As soon as I tear it free, the exit along with the reward orb appears. Storing both the golem core and the Fractal Shards away, I leave.

  I look down at Callisto’s smug grin, and she turns back to look at another Sergeant.

  “See? Under an hour. Pay up.”

  He hands her a twenty dollar bill muttering obscenities.

  “Callisto, are you betting on me?”

  She laughs.

  “Always!”

  I shake my head as we board the Chinook. With Atlanta cleared, for the moment, anyway, it’s off to the next city.

  McKinley climbs down the ladder, her footsteps lost in the Pineapple Express’ roaring engines as we fly towards Philadelphia.

  “Mr. Ryans, we’ve had a change of plans. Boston just had two Cat-2s and one Cat-3 Fracture form. Do you want to deal with them?”

  These last few weeks have kept me extremely busy, bouncing from city to city and Fracture to Fracture. I’m not the only one working hard, though. Far from it.

  Morgan’s efforts at Area-51 have paid off, and she’s managed to develop devices she’s called Potentiometers. They’re capable of measuring how powerful a Fracture is, which is a great help in deciding where I’m most needed.

  The other Empowered are generally capable of clearing the lower Category Fractures, which means I can focus on clearing the Fractures no one else can. There’s no ranking or classification system yet for Empowered, though. I’ve heard that’s Morgan’s next project.

  We’re lucky I have a bit of bandwidth to spare here. I was heading to Philly to take out a pair of Cat-2s, but they’re both new, and no one wants to take a risk with Cat-3s.

  “I’ll take the Cat-3, certainly. And the others, if no one else can.”

  “Sounds good, sir. I’ll let Command know.”

  After a brief moment of checking her tablet, McKinley looks back up. She scans the back end of the cargo bay, where several members of 2nd Squad are lounging around. I’m too large to get onto the crew deck, and heavy enough to crush it even if I could. And so, they’ve come down to hang out with me. It’s very nice of them, considering how much more comfortable the crew deck is.

  “New ETA! We’ll be landing in an hour!”

  Callisto gives McKinley a thumbs up.

  Looking around from the bed of the bouncing cargo truck that’s ferrying me to the Cat-3 Fracture, I can tell Boston is more crowded than ever. People along the side of the road notice our convoy, and they wave and cheer.

  They’re cheering… for me?

  I give an awkward wave back, and the sound redoubles. I get a call on the radio from Callisto.

  “Like I said, Mr. Ryans. Big damn hero, yeah?”

  “I don’t feel like one.”

  I can see a thoughtful look on her face as she drives the Humvee behind me.

  “I think that’s the point of being called a hero. It’s a title given by others.”

  I turn away, looking back at the teeming crowds of people, bustling about their new lives in an uncertain world. With all the people fleeing outlying towns, big cities are becoming overwhelmed. It’s becoming so bad that parking lots have been commandeered to set up tent cities. The worst part is there’s still empty apartments and hotels, but the people who’ve had to abandon everything are the exact same people who can’t afford it. It sickens me.

  Literal monsters are eating people, the world is falling apart in real time and still we cling to the old ways. At the very least, most people are coming together, working as one to weather the common threat. As our convoy moves along, I catch scenes of unity among the average person.

  A Guardsman passing out food from a truck with the help of a dozen civilians. A young man pushing an elderly man in a wheel chair. A sorcerer turns broken concrete into bricks for construction with a complex ritual circle. A group of construction workers work in unison to use the salvaged materials to rebuild an apartment building. A group of doctors, nurses and a few Empowered healers prowl around an encampment, on the hunt for disease.

  It fills me with determination. Here they are, fighting against the encroaching dark with bare hands and a trickle of magic. With all the power I have, how could I give anything less than my best? How could I stand by without throwing everything I am into the ring? My gaze breezes over Callisto driving a Humvee behind me. The average Guardsman has next to nothing in the face of monsters that wield powers unknowable. Rifles, the king of warfare for over a century amount to little more than toys in the face of magic. Despite the odds, the danger, the near futility of it all, here they stand.

  Here we stand, united against the dark. Let us rage against it, as one.