It was, unfortunately, too early. He was getting a growing sense of just how much power a level 20 individual could have; and while he may have come enormous strides since meeting them… he didn’t want to encounter them as he was. In fact... she was probably past level 20 by now, if such a thing were possible.

Still. To know that if he created an emergency in this region, Nightfire would be called in to show up?

If there were any joy left in his heart, it would be filled with it. He could simply pick any random small town in the area to instigate an emergency, and that would be it. Poof. Done.

So. He needed to avoid encountering them, for now. “Don’t get me wrong, folks… I wouldn’t mind helping you deal with the wasps, or some other, future, crisis. But I need to get home and take care of a few things, then get a new ID card issued… among other things. If you could please drop me off back in town while you’re on the way?”

In reality… he might be best assuming a local identity. Find someone with Grey in their name; first or last name, didn’t matter. Kill them. Learn enough about them to convince anyone who didn’t know them… ehh. Probably best to find a loner. How to find them, though?

Wait. He had the internet. Just needed a place with wifi he could use. “Back at the 7-11 would be great, or at a library. I need to do a bit of research before I head home… I don’t know as much about Serpentfolk as I should. I also need to get more bullets for my revolver; they don’t work nearly as well when I’m relying on the spirit ones made by mana.”

Sledge looked at him, and grimaced. “...You sure, man? We could use you against wasps. Can’t exactly kill one with a hammer until its already right there on you, so I’d be out of the fight.”

He looked Sledge over for a moment… and nodded… sliding the Glock out of the holster. “I don’t like people knowing I have a legendary revolver… someone might try to rob me again… so I keep this around for show, looted it out of the belly of a giant raccoon. If you need a system-integrated gun, you can borrow it…. But its only uncommon.”

Sledge looked at the glock, then at him. “Thats… you know even at Uncommon, it deals more damage than a regular gun, can’t jam… this would be at least ten grand on the market. More likely fifteen.”

He glanced down at it, and actually examined it for the first time.

Glock 9mm(Uncommon)

This standard-issue mass-produced firearm was upgraded to ‘Uncommon’ by the system, making it both more effective and more durable.

Unbreakable: This weapon is unusually difficult to damage, and will not jam or misfire.

Empowered: This weapon augments the force of impacts on bullets it fires by 25%.

Huh. He’d figured if Epic was 150, and Legendary was 200, then Uncommon should be 50, and rare 100. Was there a reason this one was only 25?

“...I really need to do more research on items. And probably crafting, too. But that can wait. Yes, I knew it was probably worth ten grand. If you don’t have anything equal or better, you can borrow it for now. I’ve only got… three magazines for it…”

Sledge just looked at him as he handed the three over… and pocketed the glock. “I appreciate that. Sincerely. It might make the difference between life and death. Of course we’ll drop you off at the library. And if you need a ride after, send me a message. I’ll friend you on the Guild app.”

***

He got a few odd looks as he entered the library; they likely hadn’t seen too many Serpentfolk yet, if any; but they gave him the Wifi password, and he settled in at a desk without an issue.

So. He wanted to assume the identity of someone with the last name Grey. He wasn’t sure if he could change his callsign, but if he could, he’d just make it Grey, going forward.

As far as anyone was concerned, the first place Serpentfolk Grey had appeared was here, in El Paso, by the 7-11. Before that, he had never existed.

So; to start with, people with the last name Grey, in El Paso. There were numerous ways to search, and he actually found a Nathan Grey; but the man was a firefighter. Undoubtedly tons of people knew him, and there’s no way he could pass.

After a few minutes of searching, he stopped… and stared at an entry.

There was a Joshua Grey, now 75 years old, mentioned in a news article from a couple years back because he’d been in a car accident; made it out alive, but was paralyzed from the waist down, stuck in a wheelchair. The important bit; he was the only survivor of the accident; his wife had passed, and he had no children.

The system changed races. Made age irrelevant. If he could assume this man’s identity, he could just claim memory lapse for any questions he couldn’t answer, and have a built-in address and identity here in El Paso. Just an old man, a bit confused. Possibly even, considering the last name, a distant relative of Grey himself.

He ran a few more searches… and found the man’s address. Perfect.

***

The lawn was dead, stained green-yellow, when Grey walked up in stealth; there was quite a bit of damage to surrounding homes, broken windows, and it looked as if he might be getting lucky here; one of the second floor windows of the house was broken. Some beast might already have gotten in and done the job for him, possibly even the days ago, at this point.

Or had it been days? He was losing track of time. He barely felt the hunger of meals anymore, just knew he needed to eat so as not to die.

The man’s ‘Car’ was a large van; a Toyata Sienna, in dark blue; clearly built to allow a wheelchair to roll in and out, and relatively new…. And after a quick hop from its roof onto a nearby tree… Grey easily slipped in through the same window that had already been broken.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

The first room he entered was a bedroom; one that was clearly a mess, completely destroyed… there was even traces of dried blood on the floor.

As he stepped out into the hallway, as quietly as possible, stepping carefully beside a broken wheelchair to make as little noise as possible, following the scratch-marks in the hardwood floor… leading to… another bedroom.

A man was sitting on the floor; Joshua Grey. Still alive. Still breathing, though he had a few nasty scratches on his face. A shotgun clutched in his hands, pump-action… and what looked like a four-foot long rat lying dead on the floor beside him.

Not dead. Not even dying; if the man were conscious, and able to reach a phone, he would probably live. Which, of course, meant that nobody had reported him dead. He was probably quite hungry, though; he looked as if he were unable to move.

He couldn’t store living things in his extradimensional space, only dead bodies.

And his story, going forward, would be that he was Joshua Grey… preferably going by just Grey, or Mr. Grey… and had regained his youth and vigor, but not his memories, after an unfortunate encounter with a mob of vicious rats.

Perhaps, to those he considered trustworthy, he’d claim that Nightfire had saved him… but tried to rob him of the revolver after, and left him for dead, unaware that her actions had gained him enough energy to reach level 5.

He stepped up to the man, looking him over more closely… and gently shook him.

He gave a low groan… and blinked, looking up at Grey.

“Joshua. Can you hear me?”

“....Hungry. Food?”

Grey reached into his storage… and brought out a granola bar. “I’ve got some. But things have broken down. The police aren’t coming when people call. Everything’s shutting down. Its like the end of the world out there. Do you have anyone I can call for you, any friends, family, who can take care of you? I’ll gladly find them and get you some help.” He handed him the granola bar…

Joshua started eagerly eating it, barely getting the wrapper off before shoving it into his mouth; his old hands surprisingly strong. Likely he’d gained a level himself from killing the rat.

When he finished, he leaned back, sighing.. “No. Not anymore. All my friends… either they died in the war… or I outlived them. Ever since the accident… I’ve been alone. Patty…” He closed his eyes. “I sometimes wish the lord had taken me, too.”

Grey gave a slow nod, and stepped closer, setting a hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I'm sure you'll be with her again.”

Congratulations! Title Gained!

Human-Slayer: +10% damage against humans;

* As you already have a ‘Slayer’ title at rank 3, your existing ‘Intimidating Shout’ has now been upgraded, and can work on human targets if you choose.

At the soft crack of his spine snapping, and the title appearing, Grey considered the next step. He gently laid Joshua out on the floor.. And after a moment, held a hand down, no longer having to touch the man to do it, thinking… Loot.

Looted: Keychain x1, From my Cold Dead Hands(Rare) 2x Shells

Well then. He’d wanted a rifle; a shotgun would work. With the difference between a 12 gauge shotgun and the tiny caliber of the Hand of Death, the shotgun might actually be better against unarmored targets, even if it was only Rare. He didn’t intend on killing too many more humans, now that he’d realized his target might not even be one.

Interested in what might be special about it, and if it would explain why the ridiculous name, he examined the gun.

From my Cold Dead Hands(Rare)

One of a small number of 12-gauge remington pump-action shotguns signed by then-NRA president Charlton Heston in 1997, this weapon was used to defend the Grey household once, and for hunting purposes dozens of times, and was the pride and joy of its owner, Joshua Grey, since its purchase at auction over twenty years ago.

Unbreakable: This weapon is virtually impossible to break, and cannot jam or misfire.

Empowered: Shells fired by this weapon strike with an additional +100% of their usual impact force.

From my Cold Dead Hands: This weapon cannot be disarmed or removed from the wielder involuntarily unless the wearer dies, and if either thrown or placed on a surface or handed over willingly without being sold or gifted, can be summoned back to its owner’s hands at any time within ten miles, even if inside an extradimensional storage space.

That… was an odd ability. He looked it over; the signature was actually covered with some sort of lacquer to keep it from wearing off, and the words ‘From my Cold Dead Hands’ were carved into the wood above the signature. Odd, but useful. Did a weapon just need some sort of emotional attachment or rarity to get upgraded like that? Would covering the label remove the power?

And considering the caliber and power of the bullets… a 100% bonus on a 12-gauge slug should hit much harder than a 200% bonus from a bullet from a revolver. This thing would probably be the better option, period, so long as he had shells.

He started searching the house for anything else of interest… finding a wallet, with an expired driver’s license, a debit card, and plenty of cash, almost immediately… and also finding a gun safe, roughly chest-high, in the closet.

He studied it. He’d never had cause to break into a safe before, but knew they were fairly resistant to such things as guns, even ones that could shoot as hard as… Cold, he could call it. He’d leave it be, for now… and kept searching.

After finding a few cases of actual silver silverware, a box of valuable coins, and a variety of other valuable collectibles he tossed into the dimensional storage, he checked in the next room… finding a desktop computer…. With a notebook beside it, and sticky-notes attached to the monitor.

With all of his passwords… and the combination for the safe… written in bold black marker.

He stared for a moment…. Shaking his head. That… was that normal? He didn’t think people actually did that. He even had his social security number written on a sticky-note!

He looked at it all… and resolved to go to the DMV. However absurd it might be, once he showed people an ID with his face on it, they’d likely go along. They'd likely even have a lineup of people in his situation, if the deputies, or the news, were passing that info around.

It would be unfortunate if society collapsed, and all this effort ended up being pointless. The only way this was contributing to his goal, after all, was that it helped prevent the police from arresting him; he could level up and set the trap without having to use any of Joshua's resources... probably.

When he went back to the safe with the combination in hand, and started opening it, he noticed a dusty photograph sitting atop it; a collection of dozens of people of various ages, some sort of family reunion. He started to ignore it and just get back to opening the safe, when something caught his eye… and he picked it up, looking closer.

Huh. That was his parents. He'd seen his father wearing that exact shirt when they'd gone fishing together.

He glanced at the spot where the man had been minutes ago. So. He was related in some fashion? This must have been one of his grandfather’s siblings, or cousins. It wasn’t too surprising, since the last name was Grey, but at the same time… it seemed as if he should feel something about that.

No matter. He ignored the photo, and turned to the safe.. He wouldn’t find any upgraded weapons inside, but should undoubtedly find some he could sell; and some ammo for that shotgun, which might make things easier going forward.