After cleaning up the front yard and getting hosed off yet again -- which still didn't earn Chad a cleaning proficiency somehow -- he and the others headed inside for dinner. Gram Gram had prepared a couple of oversized crockpots of chili for the crowd, complete with freshly baked rolls.

With how many people were crammed in the small house, they had to improvise a bit. People spread out across the dining room, kitchen, living room, and any other place with counter space to enjoy their meals.

There were a few grumblings about whether or not they should conserve resources and be more frugal given the world outside. And to be fair, Chad understood the objections. They had reason to be uncertain of the future. But that didn't mean he'd enjoy this food any less.

Apocalypse or not, I haven't had Gram Gram's chili in years. I'm not passing up the chance to have it again.

The groups chatted as they ate, mostly about the day's events and what to do next. The sudden pig attack had evidently done a lot to convince the others about the importance of getting stronger. Not just to protect the town, but also themselves and their own families. No one person could have handled this problem on their own save Chad. It did more to impress the importance of levels and skills than any words he or Squawkers had managed earlier.

Chad didn't miss the occasional awed looks shot his way. It seemed like his display had left more than a few people impressed. Impressed and maybe a little hopeful about their own prospects.

Maybe that'll get everyone else wanting to level, too. He grinned. How could you not, after seeing someone just rip a tree outta the ground like that? I still can't believe I can do that now.

The fact that it left a massive hole in his grandmother's front yard was an issue he'd have to fix. But really, things like that felt like an intrinsic part of the super-strength package.

With great power comes great responsibility. And property damage. I'll definitely have to fill that in, though.

The meal was also a chance for Chad to catch up with some of his old neighbors. Though he'd been back to visit Gram Gram a number of times over the years, he hadn't often taken advantage to reconnect with other figures from his childhood.

"How you been doin' Rich?" Chad asked the Automobile Mechanic. "Work going good?"

The dark-haired man gave a grunt. "It was till yesterday."

"Yeah, that's fair." The arm wrestler shrugged. "But hey, if things keep up the way they are, then maybe you'll get more people coming in needing fixes."

"He already has." Richard's wife -- a bubbly Homesteader named Lisa -- leaned forward from her seat on the couch. "You wouldn't believe how many came in today with busted headlights and front bumpers."

"Really?" Chad blinked in surprise.

"Yup." Richard confirmed. "Deer."

"All of 'em." Lisa nodded. "They're just bolting out into the road like I've never seen. We nearly hit one on the way over. It's like the things got even dumber, I swear."

"Guess that tracks with the pig thing." Squawkers straightened from his bowl of bird feed. Gram Gram had kindly sliced up a bit of carrot and a berry to add color to the meal. "Guess we're lucky we didn't run into any ourselves on the way back."

"Yeah," Chad agreed. "Though I probably could've just punched it outta the way… I might need you to take a look at Bessie, by the way. She's not the happiest with me."

Richard snorted. "I'll say."

"Nevermind the bike, Chadwick. What did you do to yourself?" Lisa asked, her gaze falling to his arm. "Doesn't that hurt? It can't be comfortable."

"Nope!" He flexed his arm to demonstrate. "It's feeling pretty great, now. Even after that."

Lisa tisked and turned to her husband. "Well, guess we know who to call when we need help moving. Or putting together the new coop."

Richard gave a dry chuckle. "Suppose so."

"Oh yeah! How's the flock, Lisa?" Chad asked.

"Good, for now." She sighed. "Hopefully tonight's better. Rich had to practically sit out there all night to keep the wildlife off of them..."

"Couldn't sleep anyway." Richard muttered.

"Yeah?" Annie nodded. "I hear ya. I couldn't sleep a wink with how worried I was about all this..."

"Nope." Richard jerked his head toward Lisa. "She snores."

As Lisa swatted her husband on the arm, Chad let out a deep belly laugh.

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Once everyone had eaten their fill and migrated back to the living room, the group resumed hashing out a plan. The sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, meaning they only had a little bit of time left to finalize things for the day. No one wanted to head home when it was dark out.

"Seems to me that we need to set up some sorta warning system," Tom offered. "Just in case another big attack like that happens. It'll help us to set up more meetings, too."

Squawkers cocked his head. "That's easy. Don't you all have phones?"

"Right," Annie nodded. "We can just get on something like a group text. That's easy enough."

One of the women chuckled. "So long as Lorna doesn't get added. She'll clutter the whole thing up with pictures of her kid..."

"For heaven's sake, Sandy, will you ever let that go?"

"That works for a small group, but the whole town?" Chad frowned. "Seems like a lot of people to text."

"I could help with that." A blonde woman bearing a Social Media Manager tag piped up. "I could use the town pages to post when something's up. Everyone can just sub to them and get pinged right away. Most of the town's already on them already, so it'll be easy to do."

"Sounds like a plan." Tom nodded. "Thanks, Shannon. Can you help spread the word about that, too?"

"Yup!"

"The group text will still be good for a lot, though." Squawkers pointed out. "We should make sure everyone's connected before you go."

"Yeah. maybe we can work with the sheriff too, formalize things and see if he's got any more ideas."

"I can talk to Mike at the shooting range, too. He might be able to help out here."

"...You all are crazy..." Nick muttered sourly from the corner. A steaming bowl of chili sat before him, its contents barely touched. "Completely crazy... Maybe Clive will let me stay in his bunker and wait things out..."

Chad watched as Jerry sent the guy a sympathetic look. As much as Jerry seemed to agree with Nick, the Musician hadn't voiced his complaints nearly as much. Though maybe it was because he hadn't personally been mauled by a squirrel. Or maybe he didn't want to risk Annie's wrath. Either way, Jerry seemed content to fade into the background for the moment.

Now that I think about it, I haven't really talked to the kid since we got back. Maybe I'll have to change that.

Chad turned his attention back to the conversation at hand as Squawkers spoke. "...I don't mind scouting. I can see better than most of you, so I can tell you when something's coming."

"That's well and dandy, but you can't be everywhere at once," someone else pointed out. "We'll need more people on lookout."

Annie nodded in agreement. "Right. And a plan. What are we gonna do when something does show up? Just have everyone run across town at the drop of a hat?"

The conversation continued as people outlined ideas for different teams, rotating schedules, and who should bear what responsibilities. The idea of recruiting other people for the effort was also brought up. Given the array of classes present here, it seemed obvious that not all of them were really made for combat. But perhaps others around town would be more suited to the task.

In the middle of talking, the TV screen suddenly flickered to life in a burst of static. After a moment, it resolved into a too-close shot of a rather disheveled-looking man. His torn white hat bore the logo of a local news station.

A few people jumped in surprise. Chad glanced around in confusion. Did one of the cats find the remote or something?

"H-hello?" The disheveled man's voice crackled through the old speakers.

"The fu--" Chad caught himself. "The heck?"

"I don't know if anyone is seeing this..." The man on the screen continued, glancing around nervously. He made no indication that he'd heard Chad. "The skill says a hundred miles, but... anyway, there's something going on at the portal and I dunno how else to tell people."

With that, the camera turned away from the man and toward the sky. The swirling red hole in reality still hung above Dallas, its glowing form relatively close to the man's position. Chad spotted a few fighter jets in the background as they streaked across the camera's view.

"Things stopped coming out," the man narrated. "There was one last big batch of 'em, then they just stopped. I don't know if that means it's finally over, or..."

Before he could finish the sentence, they got an answer.

Suddenly, shapes began pouring out of the portal. Only this time, they were different. Rather than the strange and twisted masses of flesh and strange animalistic hybrids, these forms appeared more humanoid. Most of them, at least.

A fleet of blue-skinned elves on flying stingrays zipped out of the portal, falling upon one of the jets as it approached. They saw as the plane opened fire, sending one of the enemies careening toward the ground. But it wasn't enough. The others fell upon the plane in a tumble of spears and strange light, sending the aircraft screaming toward the ground in a fiery wreck. The camera shook with the impact.

As they watched, more kinds of airborne humanoids emerged. Figures held aloft by bat, bird, and insect wings soared through the skies, harrying jets wherever they went. A few that resembled black-furred flying squirrels streaked quickly toward the ground like skydivers.

Several other groups began sprinting down the stairs at breakneck speed. Even from the cameraman's distance, it was easy to tell they weren't a uniform bunch, either. Chad spotted everything from reptilian forms to strange translucent shadows to what were essentially just dwarves.

"Oh shit," the cameraman muttered from behind the picture. "That doesn't look good."

With the sudden appearance of organized opposition, things quickly devolved into chaos. Explosions and missile impacts obscured the stairs and portal as human forces on the ground struggled to repel the new invaders. The foes responded in kind, sending fireballs and arrows and strange bursts of explosive light right back. The figures quickly filled the sky like a swarm of insects, only partially obscured by smoke and flame.

Then, shadows fell over the scene. Fleets of massive floating longships descended from the portal, oars extended as though to row through the air itself. Their sweeping hulls were painted a deep maroon so dark that it was almost black. They varied in size, from the size of a semi-truck to a few full-on aircraft carriers. In place of sails, the ships bore gracefully sloped roofs that protected whoever – or whatever – might have been inside.

"Shit shit shit--" the camera went shaky as the man began to back away. The longships began to spread out and float in every direction, escorted by the flying fighters. "This is too much. As soon as this skill's over, I'm runni--"

The broadcast cut off. A sudden silence fell over the room like a thick blanket as they thought about what had just happened.

"Tell me that wasn't real." Nick broke the silence, his voice faint. "This is a dream. This is all a bad dream, and I'm going to wake up soon."

Annie shook her head. "Nope. And I think what came before was just the warm-up."