Steven felt good. Physically, that was becoming the norm. Aside from getting the shit kicked out of it on the regular, his body was beginning to feel genuinely superhuman.

He woke up fresh and more alert than ever before. And he had so much energy. It took longer to tire, and he recovered faster. It was great.

Mentally. Mentally, things had been dodgy for a long time. But in the last week, they had been helping people, and it felt good. It was reinvigorating to do something, so…so uncomplicated.

To be fair, fighting for his life was pretty straightforward, but that wasn’t a long-term goal. That was merely existing.

But after so much time scrambling around for answers, wondering what would happen next and what they could even do, Steven had found a measure of peace.

He still didn’t have a grand plan in place. He still didn’t know what was going to happen next. But now he had two goals in front of him: protect the others and protect the city from the more violent factions.

It said something about him, he thought, that he felt so fulfilled from having a simple goal.

I guess I’m just not a complicated person.

Was that a bad thing?

Before Steven could pounder any further, a System prompt pulled him from his thoughts.

“Not long until the restrictions drop.“ It chuckled. “Man, things are gonna get wild.“

Steven eyed the empty air as he set down his toothbrush. “Well, don’t you sound excited.“

“I am excited. Boredom is a dangerous thing. I know that sounds childish at face value, but I mean that in a genuinely existential way. It’s never the boredom itself. A being interested in the universe can never get bored. That’s the problem, boredom is often a warning sign that one’s slipping, losing their grip.“

The mirthful edge vanished, and the System sounded almost sad. “I’m not bored, Stephen. I am very, very interested in what happens next. And that’s a relief. Welp!“

It clapped, the sound obnoxiously loud in the small room. “You have seven days until the restrictions drop, and, oh, this last part is a citywide announcement, so let me get my big voice ready. Ahem.“

“In seven days, the territory limit will be relaxed, and we can really get this party started. When that happens, there’ll be a special Scenario similar to the Contest, but only among factions. Consider it a… meet and greet. Though I hope you’re all well acquainted before that happens, but if you aren’t, you will be! System out!“

Steven stared at the mirror for a few long seconds. “Okay then.”

With a sigh, he turned on his heel and then went to greet the day.

~<>~<>~

While Steven was overjoyed with the amount of good they’d done, there was one unavoidable side effect of their actions that he was not a fan of.

Attention.

They received messages from half a dozen different factions through their socials asking for alliances or meetings or belligerent questions about their intentions. Or, in one case, an outright threat, a rather colorful one, too.

That was...certainly something, which was why they had all gathered in Margie‘s living room that morning.

“OK,“ Micheal asked, making a sweeping gesture to the blackboard he had fetched as he did. “What’s on the agenda this morning?”

“Who says agenda?“ Asked Del.

“Nerds.“ Margie said.

“Accountants,“ Markus offered.

“Nerds,“ Margie repeated.

Micheal hushed them. “I just wanted to sound fancy. Shut up.“ They obliged, and he produced a stick of chalk and went to work.

A few seconds later, he stepped back and presented the board with open arms.

Operation Spam Mail And Possible Threats?

“So…what do we do?”

Del raised her hand. Micheal pointed at her with the chalk. “I think our priority is making sure we don’t create more enemies than we strictly have to. Some of these people are going to fight us regardless, but let’s not borrow trouble, yeah?“

Steven nodded. “I agree. Honestly, the threat worries me the least. Suppose they’re hostile to us. Well, then they’re hostile to us. Either they attack us, or they don’t.”

Micheal frowned. “It worries me that I agree with you.“

Steven glanced at the others. Margie was nodding, and Markus looked…sad. He quickly shook it off and rose to his feet.

“Well, you’re right that the threat simplifies things, we do still need to take some action. We should look into who sent it a bit. I’m not familiar with the name, assuming they used their real one.”

He rubbed his chin.

“With the others? Let's be honest. We don’t want psychopaths or power-hungry killers in control of the city.“

Margie ran a hand along Buford‘s head. The hound closed his eyes and leaned into her.

“Some of them will like that answer, I’m sure, but they’re probably going to expect that we’re just another group looking to amass territory before the restrictions are lifted, and things really heat up.“

Del frowned and bit her lip. “Why shouldn’t we be?“

They all stared at her, including Buford.

She raised her hands. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I don’t mean we should go attacking people for their homes. I mean, why aren’t we trying to gain control of territories?”

She shifted in her chair. “We get enough of them, and we can net some Scenarios. So far, Scenarios and fighting other people to the death are the best ways to grow.“

Steven was halfway through saying no when he bit down.

They weren’t attacking people for their homes. End of discussion, he wouldn’t be a part of it, and he wouldn’t let it happen. But nobody lived in the Dimond Mall, and they controlled that. Did he have a problem with them gaining control of similar areas? Public spaces?

He wasn’t sure.

“I’m against it.“ Micheal said firmly.

Well alright then.

Del turned to him, scowling. “Why?“

He turned the chalk over in his hands, the morning light playing across his face as he grimaced. “This… Right now, what we can do on our own is a lot. With control of a territory, we can do even more, and as the System pulls back the restrictions, what we can do will grow.”

His fist closed around the chalk.

“I don’t… I’m not comfortable with that kind of power.“ He took a deep breath. “But I also understand our situation. Other people are, and they won’t stop just because we don’t want to do something.”

Micheal shifted uncomfortably before slowly raising the chalk to the board.

Operation neutral territories, where do we find them? How do we take them?

Micheal’s words sat heavy in the room. Steven hadn’t really pondered if they should be going after more and more power. He wanted them to survive, and they needed strength to do that.

But Micheal was right. Being able to do the things they could, and having the potential to do even more, should worry them.

But that doesn’t mean we can slow down. Not if we don’t want to be crushed.

Steven scratched his chin. “What even counts as a ‘neutral territory?’”

They pondered that for a second. “Nobody lives there.“ Markus offered up.

“Yeah,“ Del agreed. “Nothing some Ma or Pa owns either. I couldn’t really give a shit if some corporate group owns it or if it’s some public space like a park. I personally have no qualms claiming something like that to net us a Scenario with advanced knowledge.“

Micheal cleared his throat and tapped his chalk against the board. “All right, so what’s the plan?“

Margie eyed them. “I’ve composed enough corporate letters to help us not accidentally make any blood rivals.” She looked at Markus.

He shrugged. “I’ve had less practice with e-mails, but work politics were

brutal, knowing how to talk was important.”

Steven, not for the first time, wondered what exactly Markus had done before all of this. He didn’t want to pry, and the man never offered the information. But how the hell did someone learn to fight like he could?

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Steven started as Margie pointed at him. “Come join us. We need a youngster to look over these too, in case we old folks miss some hip lingo.”

“Well, don’t say hip lingo, for starters.”

“Hush.”

She jabbed a bony finger at Micheal. “I nominate you and Del to look into neutral territories for us to go over while we try to avoid making any more enemies.“

Micheal gave her a mock salute. Margie returned it and then motioned towards him with her foot. “Go help them, Noodle.“

The dog immediately trotted over to Micheal and butted his head into the man’s shin.

Micheal ignored the dog and scratched his chin.

Steven arched a brow. “What are you waiting for?“

“Operation names.“

Steven sighed.

~<>~<>~

Despite the amount of physics-defying things that happened in his average day, Micheal had kept his thoughts from drifting towards things like magic and the supernatural.

Well, at least in a broader sense. You couldn’t not think about magic when you could do it. But he hadn’t spent time pondering how it might interact with the world now, how Scenarios, and the System itself, really functioned.

He hadn’t had the time. Figuring out how they would survive the next monster or asshole had been more important.

Now, as he worked in Operation Magic Places he had no choice but to start pondering those specifics.

Territory: Dimond Mall

Laws: none

Residents: none

Nodes: 2

That screen rolled out before Micheal; the words faded like aged parchment. It terrified him. Laws.

“System, remind me what the limits of those laws are?” He didn’t bother thinking it. Del had gone to the bathroom a minute ago, leaving him alone with Noodle.

“Good question, Damsel!”

“You could use my name.”

The System ignored him. “You can set just about any law you want, though there are some limits with people’s character sheets. However, I will not aid you in enforcing these laws. I will alert you when they are broken.”

Micheal shuddered—a magically enhanced big brother.

“Thanks.”

“Of course, Damsel, I’m nothing if not your dutiful servant.”

With that question answered Micheal’s thoughts wandered to more general questions.

What constituted a territory? And what made the System decide to snip off a piece of the city and mark it? Did it follow the same regulations and land laws from before its arrival? That would be convenient, and there was evidence to suggest it might, but he had a feeling it was more complicated than that.

Micheal had started his search by looking up city landmarks and public spaces.

He quickly marked off spots he felt would get them killed if they tried to claim.

Usually, the Dimond Mall would be one of those. People didn’t really buy food there, so it wasn’t an essential territory, But it was still a big chunk of well-known land, and the System seemed to weigh it pretty heavily for scenario netting since it put two nodes on it.

Shopping centers and such would be heavily contested, which made Micheal look into parks. Lots of land, lots of them, and there was a decent chance that others wouldn’t be focusing on them yet.

A park was a much less juicy target than a grocery store.

You control one, and you can deny people food. You control the other, and you could deny them a scenic walk. They were in Anchorage; they could just go a block over, and there would be an equally scenic view right there.

Micheal shook his head. Focus.

Parks, parks. Big, small, in between.

His fingers paused on the keyboard… Were neighborhoods people lived in and miles of forest the same in the System’s eyes?

Micheal leaned back in his chair and turned his focus to the air. He sighed and braced himself, feeling like he was about to stick his hand into a particularly annoying fire, calling them again so soon. “System, tell me what you can about territories.”

There was a pause. Then, an intentional pause.

The first felt like, well, nothing. But after a few seconds, he felt the heavy weight of the System’s attention shoving down on him, pressing into the room from every angle like a great eye.

He suddenly felt 15 pounds heavier, his laptop rattled, and Noodle startled awake.

“Oh, Damsel.“ The System all but purred. “You cannot go tempting me like that. Do not give me such open-ended opportunities to waste your time.“

Micheal stared stubbornly up at the ceiling. “Do you know what I want?“

“Of course I do. I can read your mind.  It’s not a bad question, loath as I am to admit it. You even phrased it to swipe the wind from my sails.“ The System let out a long, dramatic sigh.

“Fine, I’ll tell you what I can about territories. It’s still limited. You are a measly level 10, a Damsel who’s only crawled to the Second Threshold can’t be burdened with too much knowledge. But I can bestow some upon you.“

Micheal made a move-on gesture and leaned forward. “What are they?”

“… A designation, recognition of a framework. Mine, and something else.“

Micheal frowned.

“Yes, you’ve already begun to suspect. Not all of the territories are Identical. Well, you knew that. What I mean to say is that a tower a princess would be captured in is not held in the same regard as a whole kingdom.”

“In the same vein, a dank, dinky little neighborhood does not carry the same weight as a whole region nor a place of significance. A neighborhood has only scraps of domain I can throw power at. It’s only when you get enough of those together they have enough weight to trap a Scenario.“

Micheal blinked. “Slow down, break that down for me!“

The System chuckled. “No.“

Micheal took a deep, calming breath.

“What decides How… Significant territories are?“

He felt the System’s attention sharpen. “Good question. Many, many things. Ambient magic, population density, history, and the strength of the individuals inside it. Any number of other factors. If you can figure out which are affecting a territory ahead of time, Well you can deduce which you should go questing for.“

Micheal chewed on his lip before an idea struck him. “What’s the best question for me to ask you right now?“

The System laughed. It wasn’t a cruel, mocking thing. Instead, the sound was deep, deep, and rich, and it shook the whole house. “Clever little Damsel. You are starting to use your head. I am afraid I will not answer such open-ended questions. But I admire the cheek.”

With a sensation like a taut line being cut, the System vanished. Micheal slumped back in his chair. After a few long seconds, he looked up. “Hey, Del! Hurry up! I have some things to share!

~<>~<>~

“I’m gonna shove that green shield so far up your ass it’ll come out with your breakfast on it.”

Steven read over the line again before nodding. “Well, it’s not bad, as far as these things go. They put some time into it, at least. Who are they, though?“

Markus shrugged.

Margie scratched her head. “The necromancer‘s friend?“

“That’s what I was thinking, too,“ Steven said. He frowned and read over it again.

“But how did they get our information? It wouldn’t be that hard to search for us online, but how did they know to search for us? I don’t think Max or William said anything about us online. And I didn’t do anything with the other group.“

As a team, they’d been involved in four different territory battles over the last week.

Markus handled one himself, Micheal and Del another, and the last two Steven and Margie had taken care of.

They were reasonably sure the necromancer had friends unless his Class allowed him to enchant items for some reason.

In the other territory battle, Margie had cleaned up without Steven even using a Skill. So, for the email to mention shields… 

The necromancer threw around magical hand grenades and had a force field. Some sort of camera or farseeing skill wasn’t out of the question.

Hell, someone could’ve just been looking at them with binoculars. They’ve been dealing with so much strangeness that Steven found his mind Instinctively moving in that direction now.

It would be awfully embarrassing to get killed because he overlooked something mundane while looking for some wizardry.

“What do you think?“

Steven blinked. “Huh?“

Margie sighed. “A response. Any input?“

Steven shrugged. “Tell them to pound sand.“

Markus tilted his head back and forth, then nodded. “Might as well. I don’t think we can salvage this one.” He slowly typed out the message using his index fingers.

Steven fought back a wince.

Margie failed. She opened her mouth and closed it. Opened it again. In the end, she won her internal battle and kept quiet as Markus responded.

“Pound sand whoever you are. Sincerely, Old Timers Inc.”

Margie nodded. “I like the sincerity, really brings it together.“

Markus scrolled down to the next message. This one had been left on his account, while the rest had been spread between Stephen‘s and Margie‘s.

“Hello, old-timers. Your group has certainly been making some waves recently. I’m sure you’ll get some very nasty messages soon, some threats, calls to violence, that sort of thing. I’m not too interested in that. I don’t really want to fight anyone. However, I am rather curious about your intentions. I expect the chances of getting an honest answer are, well, not great, but an email is free, so why not swing for the fences?”

“…So what are your intentions?“

Markus scratched his chin, and after a few seconds, he hummed. “I like them.“

Steven arched a brow. “Just like that?“

The old man nodded. “Yeah. They seem charming enough, and I appreciate them getting to the quick of it.“ He turned back towards them. “Standard response?“

They nodded.

“Dear mysterious figure, thank you for contacting us. From now on, if you wish to get a hold of us, please use the email I will be attaching below.”

“As for our intentions, we intend to prevent the more extreme factions from gaining too much control.”

“Before you get alarmed by our nebulous wording there—extreme can mean many different things to different people—murderers. Psychopaths would be dictators. We don’t want to be under anyone’s boot.”

With peace and love, Old Timers Inc.”

“PS, you can contact us at [email protected]”

Markus received a round of thumbs up and hit send.

The new email had taken several minutes of arguing and voting before they’d settled on the Yahoo one.

Steven and Micheal had been against it at first, but Del had argued that they needed to fit the branding. They caved.

The next email was a bit more cautious than the first and certainly more ‘diplomatic’ in its word choice.

But it boiled down to “What the fuck do you want?” But in much prettier words.

Steven frowned at the screen. “I don’t trust them. “Me neither,” Margie said. “That was way too wordy.”

“Standard response?”

“Yeah, but sound less friendly,” Margie offered.

Markus shrugged and started his two-fingered typing.

Steven eyed the stack of emails. Getting the attention of a bunch of super-powered groups is far more tedious than I’d thought.

He thumbed open his phone and checked his email.

He smiled. “Huh.” The others glanced up at him.

“An old acquaintance of ours wants to meet.”