The sheriff thought about acting like he was really scared, but he knew he was being an asshole. He didn't like humans, but that wasn't their fault. Then he realized something.

“Did you say Travis? Are you the main character, Travis?” He looked up with his eyes alone because a gun barrel was pressed into his temple. Travis nodded, “What's it to you?” He wanted to say, "How would you know?" but that was such a pedantic question. This guy obviously had knowledge about the game.

“I was probably going to stop messing with you guys anyway. It's not your fault your species are parasites. Now that I know you are the MC, that changes things. Okay, no more messing around, si El Javier?”

Javier looked at Travis, “Shoot him.” Travis thought he was joking; Gary wasn't sure if he was; he was not.

“Talk, asshole.”

“Fine but go sit down. Trust me, you want to hear what I have to say. Not to mention, your gun will work about as well on me as my dong works with the lovley Mary Rose. Which is to say it doesn't... You know... work.” Travis kept his gun on him but backed up some. The number of questions everyone had could have filled an SAT. Funny enough, “Why does your dong not work?” wasn't the last question they would have asked.

“I am authorized to tell the MC more than anyone else. I'm excited actually, since there is only one of you, my peers around the world won't get this experience. It must be what meeting a celebrity at a Starbucks feels like for you guys.”

“Why ask for someone's signature, though? Why do people freak out for scribble on a piece of paper? Don't answer, I digress, sorry. I am an entity created just for the sake of the game. That's really the big secret.

"Who or what created me, I don't know, but even if I did, I can't say. You could torture me all you wanted.”

“You could be Liam Neeson trying to rescue his daughter, and I still couldn't tell you. If you were Dom in 'Faster and More Furious 17' and I messed with your 'family,' then proceeded to torture me because of that. I still couldn't tell you. That would be if I knew, which I do not. Like I said, I am here to organize things, but what I didn't say is I am doing that for people like you, the players in the game. If you had to fight a bunch of drug-addled cannibals every time you left your base, that would be no fun. Am I right?” He didn't wait for a response before continuing.

“Has everyone here read 'The Hunger Games'? No? Watched the movie? Maybe?” He wasn't even looking at them. “Not a bad adaptation, but I would have gone a different direction in casting Peeta. Oh wait, I'm off-topic.” Okay, as to what you are doing here and how we can help each other.”

Javier was getting annoyed; he hated sarcastic pricks. “Amigo, centro de atención! What about the Hunger Games?” The sheriff didn't miss a beat, “Ah, podemos hablar español. Sí, 'The Hunger Games,' películas decentes, libros mejores.” He was sitting back in his chair with a gun trained on him, looking like all they were doing was talking about movies.

Gary and Travis looked at Javier for translation, “He said he's happy they can speak Spanish (not exactly but it would make more sense to Travis and Gary), then that 'The Hunger Games' were decent movies but better books. Which is true but besides the point.” Now, Travis got up and put his gun away; he had an odd feeling. When there was a PC around like Javy right next to him, Travis could sense it. It was near impossible to put into words but it was real nonetheless.

With this guy, though, there seemed to be a hole in his perception. NPCs like Gary gave off a certain sensation, almost as if they were saying ‘we are normal.’ It was odd, to say the least. Yet this sheriff was neither, and Travis wanted to know why.

“Ok mate, let's really get down to brass tacks. You were going to say something like this world is now similar to 'The Hunger Games.' Ok, fine. Let me ask you this, are you a PC or an NPC?” Travis was trying to spring a tiny little trap. Nothing fancy or deep, but if he just asked ‘are you a PC,’ the sheriff could have gone in a bunch of different directions. Instead, he put him to one of two choices.

Obviously, the guy could still obfuscate, but it was a tad harder. The sheriff looked at him in a way that was actually creepy. Like when someone turns their head and just gives you eyeballs and eyebrows. That was this; then he said, “Can I go with option number 3?”

"Sure you can, but what is option 3?”

“Umm, it's neither,” he said in a condescending tone, as if that was the most obvious thing. It kind of was, but Travis wanted specifics.

“Fair enough,” Travis said. ‘But if you aren't an NPC or a PC, then what are you?”

“Now we are talking. We also are into the territory from which only you are allowed to wander, you and your party members, of course. I'm supposed to ask if they can be privy to this info, but it's not super-secret info. Frankly, I'm not sure why it's secret at all.”

They waited for him to continue, hoping he didn't go off-topic again. They got lucky this time but knew it wouldn't last.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“My role is defined, but the name has changed a few times. Right now, and in this place, I am a local boss. If you guys were aligned on the ‘bad side,’ I would be a target for you. Since you are not, I convert to more of a local admin, or LA. My job is to administer these lands and turn the people into essentially medieval serfs.” He had a smirk on his face for that last part.

“Tell me you're kidding about that,” Gary said, an edge in his voice.

“Which part?”

“About the serfs.”

“Fine, I'm kidding, but for some of them, that is the goal. Others will become shopkeepers and warriors, priests, and adventurers. People will have a choice just like they did before the cataclysm.”

Now Travis took over, “You said priests. I thought there was a spot for religion in my journal before it went away. Is there religion or gods in this world?”

For the first time, the sheriff winced a little; he had made a mistake in mentioning anything involving the possibility of gods. He knew Travis had his number, so he didn't play it off.

“Yes, you probably saw that right. The game has gone back and forth on whether or not to make religion a part of the game. Now, that said whether or not there is a God or gods is up to each person's beliefs and faith.”

“But you know one way or another?”

“Next question.”

“Do you know what the world is like in the areas affected by the cataclysm?” Travis was still asking the questions, although it looked like Gary and Javy wanted to go as well.

“Devastation, pure and utter devastation. I do not know much more than that, only to say parts of the world are being rebuilt similar to this village. Also, the former population centers are now monster hubs.” The sheriff was careful not to come off too insensitive this time.

Travis looked at Gary, who seemed to be doing everything short of raising his hand. The MC had a million more things he wanted to know but had the feeling nothing of import was going to be answered by this guy.

“You referred to us as others, are you an alien like the people running this game?” Gary finally got the chance to ask.

Before the cataclysm and all of the changes, Gary was slowly being turned towards conspiracy theories. There is a particular ideology that older blue-collar white men gravitated towards in the US, and while Gary wasn't fully in that camp, if the world continued on, he would have been given another year or so.

Part of that was a lack of trust in institutions and also the belief that almost all things were not as they seemed. Questioning things was good, and Travis practiced his fair amount of skepticism, but it had to be in the realm of the possible.

Gary had slowly started to join the side that thought everything was possible and nothing true. Though meeting up with Travis and being able to spend much more time with his daughter had quashed that. He still carried the gene though.

Not to say that aliens are an insane conspiracy, just pointing out that to Gary, all he had to do was consider it, and it was possible.

The sheriff couldn't help but mess with him a little, “An alien, as in not a naturalized citizen of this country?”

Gary missed the sarcasm, “No, as in someone from another planet.”

“Ohhhhh, like ET. That was a real tearjerker that movie was. If I was an alien, though, why don't I look more like ET?”

Gary was starting to catch on a little but not enough to back down, “If you can travel the stars at a whim, then shapeshifting can't be too hard. But you aren't going to tell us; even now, the secrets are what give you and the government behind you power.”

Before the ‘local boss,’ as he called himself, could come back with more snark, Travis cut in. “Alien or not, you did refer to humans as others. Straight answer here Sheriff, what are you?”

Gary recognized the save and was thankful, again, he wasn't fully indoctrinated.

The sheriff looked thoughtful for a few seconds before answering, “It would really be hard to explain what I am without giving away things that you are not supposed to know yet; that is about as straight an answer as you are going to get, MC.”

Travis was about to push harder when they heard a foghorn. It blew three times.

“What's going on?”

The sheriff looked excited, but only for a flash before going back to his regular look of disdain mixed with humor. “It looks like we are under attack. Three blows of the horn signify a strong enemy coming on, since another one didn't follow then they aren't super close yet. That calls for every able-bodied person to come get a weapon, so you'll have to excuse me.

Almost on cue, Richard ran in, “Coming through the farm, Sheriff. It looks like undead.”

“Why the three horns then?” the sheriff asked.

“Because there are at least 100 of them, which means they might have their lich master with them. We did get lucky in one sense, and most of them stopped to eat the animals. God damn Percy was too slow again, and most of them were still in the field when they came.”

“I know it's his farm, but we will have a real discussion about it not being anymore when this is done. Okay Rich, you know the drill, start handing out the weapons.”

The sheriff went from a smart-mouthed dickhead to the head of the village in an instant; it was actually something to see.

To hear that they were being attacked by undead was unnerving. Obviously, fighting werewolves and Orcs wasn't normal, but something about fighting things out of Night of the Living Dead was even wilder.

“Undead?” Travis said, “and a lich king, what the fuck is that?”

They had time as Rich formed a line of citizens and handed out different weapons. First spears, then swords, and finally, at the back of the line, were the biggest and toughest-looking men of the village; they got axes and a few maces even.

The sheriff lowered his voice, “The monsters get tougher as you head north. Honestly, you should try to get used to it because a few shambling mummies are nothing compared to the shit you will see.”

He left the three party members with that thought as he went into another room.

Javy was the first to speak up, “we are going to help them, right?”

Gary wasn't so sure, “Look, Haav (it's how he pronounced it), I'm all for helping, but don't forget I'm just some dude with an axe.”

Travis thought that was reasonable if a little cowardly, but it seemed to piss Javier off, “so are these people! If we don't help them, what the fuck are we doing?”

“Alright, relax Javier. Of course, we are going to help them. Gary, if you want, you can stay in the rear and protect our flanks. Like you did when we first fought those kobolds. But don't forget, Gary, you have abilities that these guys don't from the skill book. Javy does make a good point.”

The big guy seemed sufficiently chastened. “Yeah, you guys are right. Let's do this.” He took his axe off the strap on his back.