As the woman – Donna, if he'd heard right – stepped forward with arms crossed, Chad took a moment to take a better look at her. She was fairly short, though still managed to somehow look down her nose at him despite craning her neck upward to do it. A forest green blazer and business skirt intensified her already severe features. Thinly penciled eyebrows arched over narrowed eyes as she scanned Chad with suspicion. A tag above her head identified her as a level three Assistant Hotel Manager.

"Well?" She asked impatiently. One finger tapped on her arm. "Who are you?"

"Name's Chad. Chad Armstrong." He held out his hand with a grin. The woman obviously didn't like him, which was understandable. He probably hadn't left the best first impression smashing through the window of what was apparently her hotel. "Thanks for the assist back there, all of you. We really appreciate it."

"Chad, hmm?" The tapping intensified as she eyed Chad's outstretched arm suspiciously. "And why are you bringing those birds down on our heads? To kill us? To loot the place? Is that why you brought so many weapons?"

"Easy, Donna." The dark-skinned man put a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Don't be so aggressive. He's probably trying to find shelter, just like the rest of us."

The man turned to Chad and shook his hand. "Rick Moore. That's Donna, and the one with the hammer is Johnny." He nodded to each person in turn. "Nice to meet you, Chad."

Compared to Donna, Rick was only half a head shorter than Chad. He still held a rifle in one hand, though it was lowered toward the floor. Broad shoulders pulled a powder blue polo shirt taut against his fit frame. The fluorescent hotel lights glinted off of the man's bald scalp like an eight-ball as a friendly smile lit up his face.

"An Arm Wrestler, eh?" Rick's eyes flicked up above Chad's head. "Explains the appearance. And the grip. Good lord, son."

"Yup." Chad chuckled and relaxed his hand a bit more. "Pretty neat, huh?"

"I wouldn't say anything about this situation is 'neat'." Donna scowled.

"I-I dunno, the magic hammer thing is pretty cool…" The lanky teen – a Handyman, apparently – muttered from behind. He wilted at a sharp glare from Donna.

"Anyway," she continued, "What's your business here? If you're looking for a place to stay, you'll have to pay for a room. And I do hope you'll be reimbursing us for damages…"

"Donna," Rick sighed, "that should be the least of your concerns right now."

The woman whipped around. "This is my hotel. What is and is not my concern is my business, not yours. Don't push me, Rick."

Damn. There's a literal apocalypse happening and she's worried about stuff like this? Do credit cards even work anymore? Chad shook his head and raised his hands in a soothing gesture. "I'm just looking for someone. His name's Jerry? I'm supposed to rescue him."

"Jerry? We have a lot of people here. Perhaps there's a Jerry. Why do you care?"

"He's my friend's brother. I'm trying to get him out of here, to safety."

Rick snorted. "Good luck with that one. If you want to go out and face those things again, be my guest. But it hasn't gone well for anyone who's tried so far."

Squawkers cocked his head. "Is that why you're all still holed up in here?"

It spoke volumes for the day's events that Donna only stared at the talking parrot for a moment before replying. "Yes. We're waiting inside where it's safe until rescue comes. Along with all my guests."

Chad grimaced. "Er… sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I dunno if they are coming."

"Of course they are," Donna scoffed. "The fighting's moved away from us, so it's only a matter of time before the military comes and deals with those… things… outside."

He shook his head slowly. "They're busy dealing with stuff at the portal. No one's coming around to sweep this area anytime soon, based on what they told us at the barricade. Y'all are basically in a no-go zone, here."

"We know they're busy." The woman gave an exasperated sigh. "We've seen the fighting on the news. But we have plenty of supplies to wait things out here. It's only a matter of time before rescue comes. We can wait."

Chad shrugged. She had a point. Of all places to be stuck during the apocalypse, a hotel wasn't the worst. It had food, space, and even beds that might pass as comfortable. Judging by the lights in the hallway, they also had electricity. He glanced down at himself. Hopefully they have running water, too. I could really use a shower.

Either way, if anyone could afford to wait things out for a while longer, it was these people. Assuming that things didn't get worse. But who knew? Maybe all of this would be over tomorrow, no more than a blip of craziness in the annals of history.

"Well, if you want to wait for rescue, that's your business. I'm just here for Jerry. He's my friend's brother."

"And how can you prove that, hmm?" Donna glared. "How do I know you're not trying to kidnap one of my guests? Picking us off one by one?"

"Oh, for the love of…" Rick put a hand to his forehead. "Donna, not everyone's out to get you."

"Don't be naive, Rick. The world is falling apart out there. If you don't think that means opportunists crawling out of the woodwork…"

"That doesn't mean that everyone is an opportunist, my friend. I'm sure there are plenty who just need a place to sleep."

"Are you so sure that you're willing to put everyone here at risk? Because I'm not."

The pair argued back and forth, ignoring the newcomers as the debate became even more heated. Chad and Squawkers simply watched on, heads swiveling back and forth between the pair as though watching a tennis match. After a moment, Johnny stepped toward Chad.

"Uh… you ok?"

He started and glanced down. With the adrenaline wearing off, the full suite of Chad's injuries made themselves known. Sharp pains shot through his back and left arm. Red blood welled up from beneath long gashes in the tattered remains of his leather jacket. Even his right arm showed a few scratches, though they seemed noticeably more shallow than expected. More like light scrapes than anything. He wondered a bit at that, considering that it was completely bare. He was certain it had landed on at least a few shards of broken glass. Right?

Chad winced as he began to gently prod his injuries and remove shards of glass from his arm. Johnny grimaced, then turned toward Donna and Rick. "Hey, uh… s-should we get him some help? He's bleeding pretty bad."

They both stopped and turned toward him in surprise, then glared at each other once more. Chad could practically feel the sparks flying as the entire group held its breath.

Geez. Whatever's going on here, I don't want any part of it. Too much drama.

After a long moment, Donna averted her gaze with a deep scowl. Rick nodded in satisfaction before smiling at Johnny. "You're right. Let's get him taken care of."

He started down the hallway, gesturing for the rest to follow. Donna shot one last glare in Chad's direction. "Well, if you are on our side, I hope you make yourself useful, at least." She glanced at Squawkers. "And the hotel has a strict 'no pets' policy that I'd appreciate you observing."

"No pets?!" The parrow squawked indignantly. "I'm no pet!"

Chad stroked the parrot soothingly. "I'll make sure he doesn't cause any problems. He's a pretty smart bird, so if he's doing something wrong, just tell him."

The woman's expression darkened as she turned on her heel. "Fine. Just make sure he doesn't defecate on the carpet."

"Hey, hey!" Squawkers cawed angrily after her. "I'm right here you know! I'm not some kinda barbarian!"

"Calm down, buddy." Chad chuckled. "No use in getting worked up over it."

"Harumph. Honestly. The nerve of some people…"

The group headed toward the lobby together. As they walked, Chad took the opportunity to check his stat screen. Amidst the chaos he'd apparently leveled up, which meant one thing: more gains. The prospect was almost enough to make him forget the pain. Almost.

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

Name: Chadwick Armstrong

Class: Arm Wrestler (Lvl 5)

Race: Human

Stats

STR: 24*

DEX: 10*

CON: 13*

INT: 6

WIS: 12

CHA: 13

Available Points: 3

Traits

Specialized Training (I)

Arm-ed Combat (I)

Late Bloomer (I)

Skills

Adrenaline Surge

Proficiencies

Fistfighting (D)

Driving (E)

Grappling (E)

Persuasion (E)

Firearms (E)

Throwing (E)

Available Upgrades: 1

Titles

Champion Arm Wrestler

First thing's first. Without hesitation, Chad dumped his three available points into his right arm's strength.

Stats

STR - 27*

All: 17 (17)

Right arm: 10 (77)

DEX - 10*

All: 9 (9)

Right arm: 1 (15)

CON - 13*

All: 12 (12)

Right arm: 1 (18)

The arm ballooned in size as he confirmed his selections. He'd never dumped all three points at once like this, and the changes were just as extreme as he'd expected. Muscles and veins protruded from his arm as though he were some cartoonish action figure.

Its newfound bulk was starting to get a little ridiculous. Even Chad could admit it looked a little bit grotesque, though aesthetics and appearances had never been nearly enough to stop him. However, that wasn't the only sensation he felt. The odd tightening that had plagued him for a while now intensified, sending a sharp pain through his shoulder and back.

"Ow. What the…?"

Squawkers cocked his head at him. "You ok?"

"I dunno." Chad tried to rotate his arm with a wince. It ached as though he'd pulled a muscle. The arm itself was fine, but where the arm connected to his torso? Something was definitely wrong.

"Arm hurt?"

"Yeah…" He tested his range of motion only to discover he was even less flexible than before. His elbow could barely straighten past ninety degrees. Worse, he couldn't raise the limb any higher than his head.

"Maybe you just need to stretch it or something. Maybe add some dexterity to that thing while you're at it."

"Not you, too," Chad groaned.

What? There's more stats than just strength, you know!"

"And more muscles than just the ones in my arm…" Chad sighed. "I get that lecture enough from Annie already!"

"Well, maybe you should listen to her then. She sounds like a smart woman." Squawkers preened. "I'm not saying you gotta train stuff other than your arm! But you already seem plenty strong, to be honest…"

"C'mon," Chad grumbled, "we're stuck in a hotel, surrounded by demon birds, in a monster-infested city, during the apocalypse, and you want me to not beef up my biggest asset? Who knows what else is out there! There could be some sorta…. I dunno… demon crab with one really big pincer I need to wrestle! Or a snapping turtle with a really strong bite!"

The bird gave a noncommittal shrug. "Whatever, I'm not complaining! As long as you don't get us killed."

Chad set the conversation aside. As much as it hurt, it wasn't anything too new. Just one more injury on top of all the other cuts and scrapes across his body. That's right. My arm's the best thing I have to rely on right now. So I gotta keep it ahead of the game. I can deal with this.

With that, he checked over his status screen again. He'd evidently earned a Proficiency Upgrade with his last level, whatever that meant, and he wanted to investigate.

Proficiencies

Fistfighting (D) - Applies a small increase to skill and STR when striking with your fists.

Driving (E) - Applies a minuscule increase to skill and DEX when operating a vehicle.

Grappling (E) - Applies a minuscule increase to skill and STR when attempting to restrain an opponent.

Persuasion (E) - Applies a minuscule increase to skill and CHA when convincing someone to agree with you peaceably.

Firearms (E) - Applies a minuscule increase to skill and DEX when operating a firearm.

Throwing (E) - Applies a minuscule increase to skill and DEX when throwing a projectile.

Available Upgrades: 1

Not for the first time, he wondered what a "miniscule" bonus really meant. How was it different than a "small" bonus? He hadn't really felt a difference in his arm's strength when slapping monsters around, but perhaps such a small bonus wasn't meant to be felt. Or he was just too beefy to notice. Whatever it was, at least he had it.

Can't believe I'm only rank E in grappling. Wrestling is in my class name! Maybe I have to have some practice matches to get it up higher…Looking at his arm, he suspected there might not be too many takers. But that was ok. He could always go lefty.

His thoughts turned back to the Proficiency Upgrade. Maybe this would help get his rank to more properly reflect his skills. Or maybe he could put it to use elsewhere. How do I upgrade something? Is it just like the stats? With a thought, he focused on one of his proficiencies and thought about improving it.

Proficiency Upgrade will be applied to the following:

Fistfighting (D)

To acquire:

Fistfighting (C)

Please confirm your selection.

I mean, sure, why not? I have been punching a lot of stuff lately. And I'm sure I can get grappling up on my own with a bit of effort. He mentally confirmed the selection. He didn't exactly notice a difference in himself, which made sense. He wasn't actually fighting anyone at the moment. But maybe the change would make itself known later.

Closing out of his status screen, Chad looked up as they arrived in the main lobby.

The hallway expanded out into a broad and well-lit space bearing the hotel's front desk and a suspicious lack of furnishings. In place of whatever tables, couches, or chairs he expected were instead people. Groups of people scattered throughout the room. Most of them huddled together, speaking quietly in small groups or checking their phones incessantly. Their expressions ranged from terrified to simply annoyed.

At the team's arrival, several heads looked up with apparent relief. From somewhere in the room, a child's high-pitched voice rang out.

"Mom, can we go get ice cream?"

"Shush, Tommy."

However, there were a few notable differences from the usual welcoming area. The most obvious was the entrance itself. The front entryway was completely boarded off with a combination of hastily stacked mattresses, upended tables, and other assorted furniture that had probably filled this room earlier that day. In addition, the area near the entrance showed signs of damage. Bullet holes, scratch marks, debris, and more. Clearly, it had been boarded up for good reason.

Squawkers let out a dry whistle. "Sheesh. This is like a hundred people, here."

Rick nodded. "Some are still in rooms, but most don't feel safe there."

As Chad glanced around, he noted that most of the people's tags identified them as level one or two. The only exceptions were a few lookouts that posted themselves near the entrance and hallways. However, he did notice one more strange thing. None of the kids seemed to have a tag at all.

Weird. So parrots and cats get them, but kids don't?

Donna huffed. "I have other things to do. Now that you're here, don't cause any problems. I have no issues kicking you out if it means the comfort and safety of my other guests."

With that, she strode off purposefully to do… something. Something important, based on her words. Johnny scratched his head nervously as she left. "Um, don't mind the boss. She means well. She's just, uh… stressed, y'know?"

Rick snorted. "Yes. Stressed. Like we all aren't." He stepped in front of the group and called out to the room. "Medic? We could use some help, here."

Some heads turned, most notably from the far side of the lobby. There, a group of individuals in various states of injury leaned against the wall or lay on the floor, bandages obscuring the worst of the wounds. A Nurse tending to them stood and jogged over to take a look at Chad. They settled him near the wall as she quickly sized up his injuries. As she worked, Rick squatted next to him. "You said you're looking for someone named Jerry, right?"

"Yup." Chad sucked in a breath as a shard of glass was removed from his left arm. "You happen to know him?"

"Not in the slightest." The man shook her head. "But if you have a description, I can ask around."

"Nah, I've never met the guy myself," Chad admitted. "I know his sister, so I can guess, but that's all I got. Oh, and his phone number."

Rick nodded. "Sounds good. Does he know you're coming?"

"Looks like it." Squawkers remarked from Chad's shoulder. "Someone's headed our way."

Sure enough, a wiry figure walked briskly across the lobby, weaving between other groups with quiet apologies. He wore a button-down dress shirt with rolled sleeves and dark slacks. Black hair swept back from his face in a carefully styled plume that he ran his hand through nervously. His relatively young and finely-featured face took in Chad with a mixture of surprise and concern.

At first glance, Chad thought he looked like kind of a wimp. The kid didn't have an ounce of muscle on him, and his manicured hands looked like they had never done hard work a day in his life. The impression was certainly not helped by the Musician (Lvl 1) tag hanging above his head. But perhaps he'd be proven wrong.

"Are you the Chadwick that my sister spoke of?"

"That's me!" Chad sent him a grin through gritted teeth as the medic rubbed disinfectant on his wounds. "Chadwick Armstrong. And this here's Squawkers. You're Jerry?"

"Yes. Jerry Simmons. I would offer to shake, but you seem… indisposed." The kid's words were clipped and formal. It was a complete departure from Annie's more casual drawl, a mismatch that took Chad aback for a moment. "I'm glad you made it here safely – well, relatively speaking."

"Yeah, you and me both." Chad thanked the Nurse as she finished bandaging him up and left with a solemn nod. Her face looked haggard and tired, as though she'd had a particularly rough day. As they stepped away, Jerry looked Chad and his parrot over with skepticism. He gave a slight sniff before wrinkling his nose in evident disgust.

"Hey! What's that look for?!" Squawkers huffed, affronted.

Jerry's eyes widened in surprise as he glanced between the pair. "A-ah. Apologies, I just… you certainly seem to have undergone quite the eventful journey, considering your state."

To be honest, Chad couldn't exactly blame the guy for his reaction. He looked himself over. Aside from the areas the medics had cleaned, he was still covered from head to toe in a wide variety of… stuff. Not goo, not blood, not even gore. At this point, it had all melded into one unidentifiable coating of stuff.

I look like shit, and probably smell like it, too.

He turned to Rick briefly. "Sorry to ask, but do the showers around here work? I think I could use one."

The man gave a short chuckle. "Yes, lucky for all of us. Come on, friend, I'll show you to one of the more fortified rooms. Anything else you need? Extra clothes? Something to eat?"

"Actually…" Chad paused in thought. Ever since he'd started putting strength into his arm, there were a few things he'd wanted to test. Now might be the perfect opportunity. "Does this hotel have a gym?"