The litter apocalypse whirled as it hurtled at Zeke. In seconds, it crossed the gap between them. Wind rushed, paper rustled, and then it engulfed him. Zeke braced himself, squinting his eyes against the swirling twister. Litter spun around him. Wrappers and receipts batted ineffectually at his head and back. A single plastic water bottle smacked his injured shoulder, and he winced.

Ducking his shoulder a little to protect it, Zeke frowned. “How do I eat this?”

No answer.

Zeke scowled. Let’s do it the hard way, then. He opened his mouth.

[Devour]

A random receipt flew into his mouth. On instinct, he swallowed. Dry paper slid down his throat, cutting at his insides, crumpling in his esophagus.

Nothing happened. He pursed his lips. Ate a receipt for nothing.

In the midst of the whirling debris, a twisted lump of browned paper and plastic caught his eye. What is that? Leaning on his chest, he snatched at it with his good hand.

The trash dropped to the ground. Wind stopped thrashing his face.

“Huh?” Zeke asked.

Core of the Litter Apocalypse.

“Oh. Is this what I need to devour?”

As he said the word, his jaw jumped forward. Zeke barely got his thumb out of the way before his mouth closed around the filthy lump of trash.

Tar, dirt, plastic, and the putrid scent of garbage exploded on his tongue. Zeke grimaced, but forced himself to swallow. It didn’t go down easy, smearing gross stickiness all the way down his throat. A shiver of pure disgust ran through his body. He retched, only barely keeping it in. Forget the cockroach. That was truly awful.

Congratulations! You’ve defeated an Apocalypse! Bonus: +1 Level

Level +.7

Level: 3.31

Please assign 3 stat points.

Your condition has stabilized considerably.

Regeneration + 300% (Temp.)

Regeneration rate: +401% (Temp. 1:52 remaining)

Zeke raised his eyebrows. Huh. The time is longer than it was after I killed the mugger. It looks like the two regeneration rate boosts stacked, but there’s only one timer, so it combined them both into the longest of the two times… or something.

It’s possible that the first regeneration rate will fall out before the second one finishes, and it only counts the longer of the two timers. I’ll have to find out.

While I’m at it… He tapped the screens and quickly added all three points into CON.

STR: 0

CON: 8

DEX: 0

SPR: 0

Regeneration +0.3%

Regeneration rate: +401.3% (Temp. 1:52 remaining)

Once again, his bones shifted in his body, stitching back together. The bullets pushed out of his flesh. A horrible sick sensation passed over him in a wave, and suddenly he felt much better, though he couldn’t put his finger on why. He touched his stomach. Was one of my organs injured?

Abruptly, his left arm clicked. The pain in it faded. He wiggled his fingers. They moved with a minimum of pain, as dexterous as they usually were. More slowly, his shattered hip and broken leg recollected themselves. Rolling onto his back, Zeke clenched his teeth against the pain and waited for the bones to sort themselves.

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As he waited, another message popped up.

Apocalypse Defeated!

Choose up to 3 Skills

Disguise (Minor)

Minor bonus to disguising oneself, especially as a pile of garbage.

Trash Magnet (Unique)

Attract trash to yourself.

Wind Manipulation (Weak)

Weakly manipulate the wind. You can lift small objects, such as paper, wrappers, empty bottles, and similarly light objects that might be shifted in a light breeze.

Filth (Minor)

You are filthy. Any filth you acquire will be more disgusting than usual.

Disease Propagation (Minor)

Propagate disease. Your body naturally picks up and retains minor diseases.

Pick Up (Weak)

Small chance of automatically picking up dropped items, especially if small or lightweight.

Looking over the skills, Zeke pursed his lips. Hmm. I get three, but… I don’t know that I want three. Why do I get three?

Three skills are granted as a bonus for defeating the Apocalypse with your unique skill.

Zeke nodded. “Got it. So I need to Devour apocalypses to get more skills. Makes sense.”

But which three do I want? These skills are, uh… not the most impressive.

He bit his lip, then shrugged. Might as well take what I can get. I’ll go with these.

Skills

Resilience (Minor) +1

Fighting Spirit (Minor)

Teamwork (Minor)

Wind Manipulation (Weak)

Disguise (Minor)

Pick Up (Weak)

Disease Propagation is probably better than Pick Up in the long run, but… I’m not actually trying to wipe out humanity. It’s better if I’m not uncontrollably propagating diseases. After all, the skill only says that I propagate disease, not that I have any ability to choose which I carry, pick up, or when or how I spread them. Best to avoid the risk of accidentally becoming the next global pandemic.

So I’ll—

SNAP!

Sweat instantly broke out on Zeke’s brow. Muttering curses, he curled in on himself, hands hovering in claws over his freshly-reconnected femur, afraid to touch his leg but desperately wanting to. Ow ow ow ow hurts hurts hurts—!

Hissing a slow breath through his teeth, he slowly straightened his leg. His hip clicked, then snapped into place.

Yikes. Alright. Remind me not to jump off any more four-story buildings.

Zeke laid there for another second, just to be sure his body had mostly healed, then climbed slowly, carefully to his feet. His first step he limped, but his second was steady, and his third was back to normal. Dusting himself down, he looked around from his new perspective.

Trash laid all around, scattered by the Litter Apocalypse. A smear of blood dragged from a fat splatter where he’d landed. A throatless corpse laid halfway down the smear, a few feet after a puff of gray feathers.

Zeke wiped his chin thoughtfully, nodding down at the mess. His hand came away damp, and he self-consciously rubbed it on his shirt, only to find his shirt damp, too. He glanced down.

Blood soaked his shirt, especially dark around a cluster of round holes in his gut.

Oh, right. Motherfucker shot me. Mugged me, then shot me! Zeke scowled at the corpse. I’m gonna say it. You deserved to get eaten.

Jeez. I ate someone.

He stared at the corpse. His heart raced. Subconsciously, he licked his lips.

“I mean, but I’m an apocalypse now. Right? So I’m supposed to eat people,” he muttered aloud.

BANG!

In the near distance, something slammed to the ground. Zeke jumped, startled into motion. I shouldn’t stand around. Other things are out there. Other apocalypses, with less qualms about eating people.

Ryan, and Mia. Did they escape? Are they safe?

Okay, well, Ryan can go fuck himself right now. But Mia! I need to find her. She’s trapped with Ryan, for fuck’s sake! What if he decides to push her off the balcony?

He glanced over just to be sure, but only one blood splatter marred the sidewalk.

Turning to the museum, he took a deep breath. “Giant dinosaur came out of there… but Mia’s in there.”

He slapped his cheeks. “I’ve got this. I’m a motherfucking apocalypse. I can do this!”

The museum’s doors smashed open. Zeke leaped, startled. An enormous crystal ball rolled out of the museum.

He blinked. Isn’t that the ‘perfectly round crystal’ from that glass case on the second floor that no one’s allowed to touch, not even the curators? What’s it doing here?

The crystal ball drifted sideways and rolled over the mugger. The mugger’s gun stuck to its side. There was a distinctive click as the gun reloaded. It raised the gun, and Zeke found himself staring down the length of the barrel.

His eyes flew wide. Holy shit, the rock’s got a gun!