Donny was bleeding badly. Like, bad, bad. Red flowed over the grimy ground, mingling with the nearby puddles and making bloody mud. Meanwhile, Chef wallowed in his misery, crying out for his mother. As Colt got to his feet and dismissed the message about ‘status,’ he couldn’t help but stare in shock at the sight of the Tyrant of the Kitchen, reduced to this.

The wounds were obvious: deep bites and mangled flesh. Little bits of him hung off, nasty stuff all around. The creature's body lay crumpled in the corner of the alley, not that far away. Its fur matted with its own dark blood and Colt’s frantic blows. Its grotesque, misshapen features—canine but wrong—seemed to leer at him even in death, a reminder of just how close he’d come to joining Donny on the ground.

If it had been anyone else, Colt would have leaped to help them. But since this was Donny, the guy who’d tormented him for half a year…

He wasn’t sure how to feel. The world was molasses to motivate himself to finally do something.

For the sake of safety and not being sure if another one of those creatures would appear, Colt broke the spell and moved into action. Colt looked down the alley, ensuring no more mangy creatures were lurking. He grabbed the pipe the monster left on the ground, then jogged over to Donny.

“Calm down. Keep quiet.” Colt warned.

“Goddamnit!” Donny wailed.

A head popped out of the kitchen door. It was one of the line cooks, Bill. The guy had a skull tattoo on his cheek and a rough attitude that made even Chef walk lightly around. The two got along just fine since he gave the guy more respect than anyone else. Supposedly, Bill was an ex-felon if the kitchen rumors were to be believed. Colt never saw him talking to anyone other than Donny and never had the chance to ask him if it was true.

Bill stared at Donny, glanced at the body down the alley, and disappeared back into the kitchen before anyone could say anything.

“Alright, guess we’re on our own, then,” Colt said, yanking Donny up from the ground, only to be met by a stream of the Chef cussing him out in about ten different ways. Didn’t matter what Chef said. The guy was a major dick, but he’d already paid the price by having some weird dog creature tear his arm up.

Colt got him through the kitchen door, slammed it behind them, then locked it for good measure.

Bill was sitting there with a Chef’s knife, pointing it at Colt. The weapon’s tip gleamed, a bead of water running down the blade. A clean blade because he didn’t bother to do any work when Donny was gone.

The rest of the kitchen was still as they took in the threat. Jimmy clutched his hair, his eyes bulging out—the other cooks were frozen as if the place had become a tomb of ice. That knife was sharp. Chef made it so since he sharpened their tools every two weeks. No one had doubts that if Bill went for it, the knife could slit through his flesh as easily as a razor through paper.

“Keep your distance,” he said, “Not one step closer. What did you do to Donny?”

“Whoa. Calm down.” Colt said—but didn’t drop his pipe. Not that he was trying to get in a kitchen fight against a knife… But, after what he’d just seen, it didn’t feel right to let the thing go. Not after it’d saved him.

“You killed someone.”

“Bill—chill out; I don’t know what that thing was, but it was not a person. It attacked Donny. I saved him.”

“You’re lying.”

“Ask Chef,” Colt said, tapping Donny with his foot. The red-faced man looked up at him with pure anger.

“That fucking hurt, did you have to drag me like that? Piece of shit. You’re fired.” Donny yelled, his voice shaking the rest of the kitchen staff into action; by now, they could see the blood spilling from his arm. “Someone call an ambulance.”

Really?

Bill lowered the tip of his knife and looked back at Jimmy. “Grab the first aid kit—someone else call the hospital.”

The dishwasher happily complied, rushing over to the kit stashed under the prep table. Bill kept the knife at his side but no longer waved it around. Donny’s outburst had drawn enough attention to the injury that Bill wasn’t about to kill him. Colt caught his breath for the first time since the world ended and stepped back into the shadows, right near the door.

The rest of the kitchen stood by, no longer working. Confused, afraid. Someone called out that the phone wasn’t working. Another took out their cell phone and tried it—nothing.

We’re for sure not in Nashville anymore.

With the chance to breathe and think until Bill came at him with the Knife again, Colt started to sort through the questions in his head. There was a way forward. All he had to do was think of the word, and it would appear.

Status.

———

Name: Colt King | Race: Basic Human

Icon: [Empty] | Class: [Pending]

Level: 2

Edicts: [None]

Skills: [None]

Stats:

Strength: 11

Endurance: 9

Dexterity: 10

Intelligence: 10

Willpower: 8

Spirit: 1

Unassigned Stat Points: 2

———

Classes, stats—again, everything reminded him of a game, from how it was laid out to the numbers describing his statistics. At the bottom, he saw unassigned points. He took his time to think as the Kitchen started to move again around him. They’d broken through the ice, but its flow had a general stiffness. A slushy now, not the normal smooth river it normally operated as. He still had time.

Colt read over the stats. A general look at them explained what each did, for the most part. He tried to focus on the different stats, but nothing happened. As promised, the three other categories with ‘none, and empty’ listed offered nothing else. Times like these require quick decisions and decisiveness. If Bill was going to threaten him…

A cold dread settled in his chest as he processed the surreal stats on the screen. This wasn’t just an isolated incident—it was the first act of a system rewriting the world. If he was already seeing stats and gaining levels, how long until everyone else did, too? How long until Bill, or worse, Donny, realized the power they could wield?

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

That’s it, then.

Colt mentally willed one stat point into strength and the other into endurance.

It was an easy choice. If these alleyways had one thing out here willing to attack him, they would have more. Bill aside. Strength would give him more of an edge in a fight, and endurance would let him run for longer if he needed to. That, and they were the most straightforward to understand.

Instantly, he felt more alive and stronger, and his breath came easier, even after heaving his overweight former boss back into the kitchen and the whole scuffle with the ‘Homeless Kobold’ outside.

I need more levels. Was the next thought that went through Colt’s head.

Next came the realization that no one in the kitchen could see their ‘Status’ yet. They had all seen the message, but in the chaos of the front of the house, they disappeared, and now Donny was bleeding and cussing everyone out. The distraction brought them away from the panic of the message and gave them something real and pressing to focus on. It wouldn’t last, though.

Donny would get his wounds patched up, and then they’d start thinking about the message again, making the connection to video games like he had.

Very quickly, Colt did a scan of the kitchen. There was still a lot of food out since they’d been in the middle of service. The walk-in fridge and freezer had more. Between eight people, maybe it could last a month? God knew how many more of those things were outside. Was there any food out there?

This was survival. He had to gain levels quickly. What if someone else got ahead of him, took charge… and took all their food for themselves?

Bill. Yeah, Bill might be the type to do that. Already, he was barking orders and holding a knife. That gave Colt a bad feeling—he didn’t know the guy well, but from what he’d seen, Bill was the sort to do anything to make sure he came out on top; with how quick he was to violence, it wasn’t hard to picture things in the Kitchen ending up in a wrong direction.

To keep himself and other people safe, Colt couldn’t afford to sit back and panic. Every move and second counted. He needed to be in a position to lead the kitchen to safety. Jimmy—a couple of the other guys. They didn’t talk much. But they were good people, and under the thumb of Chef or a guy like Bill at a time like this? Too dangerous.

Mad.

Still, the thrill ran through him. Purpose. For the first time in a long time, he felt a goal, a real sense that he might make a difference.

If he got higher levels and stronger, he could keep them safe.

Then, after that?

No more of this.

He didn’t have to work under Chef anymore for eight-dollars an hour. This was the break he’d dreamed of, a chance to take life into his own hands and shape it like clay. The kitchen was chaos, but he could be the hands that shaped it.

Twenty-four hours.

It said something about classes and ‘full integration' in twenty-four hours. I bet they’ll all be able to see this, too, even if they don’t level by then.

While Bill was distracted, Colt slid by—into the kitchen proper. It was easy; they weren’t used to paying attention to him. No, he was another cook on the line. Another low-paid guy that Chef would bully out of the restaurant sooner or later. In all the chaos of the aftermath of the fight, it seemed Bill didn’t realize that the whole alley was different.

Perfect. Colt collected his chef knife at the prep table, still slick with chicken slime; his eyes narrowed as he considered it. Would it make a good weapon? The pipe had more reach, but this could do more damage.

———

Skills Unlocked

You may now access the Skills portion of your Status sheet to expand on individual skill descriptions. As new Skills are added, this tab may condense on your Status sheet to save space. Please think, say, or intend to view the SKILL screen to bring up your specific skill information.

Skill Gained: Inspect [Common] (Basic)

Inspect (Basic) - Level 1

This skill allows the user to view the meta-data of creatures and objects as provided by the Commonwealth repository. It is a catch-all skill in its most basic form and can offer a description and an estimated level for creatures inspected. Further leveling this skill provides better, more accurate information.

———

Another pop-up appeared as soon as he finished reading the description of unlocking Skills.

———

Name: Essential Chef Knife

Description: A slightly worn Chef knife with quite some use left before becoming dull. Length of eight inches. Made of an unknown metal alloy, likely steel. Nothing extraordinary, but essential for any kitchen. Human make, for human hands.

———

That was pretty much everything Colt knew about the knife. Not anything new, really, aside from the weird bit about ‘human make for human hands.’ He looked at the pipe in his other hand. Weighing the two options. He had a feeling that if he focused while staring at the pipe, it would spit out another similar display, but that would be pointless, so he didn’t bother.

In the end, it was an easy choice. He took the knife. It was a better weapon, even with less of a range. He was way more used to holding it, and if it came down to another one of those hairy things attacking, his odds felt much better with it.

And it would. Probably.

“Hey, what are you doing? Drop that.” Bill, his voice cold and right behind him—Colt spun, Knife now in hand, to see the man glaring hate at him and having his knife pointed right at Colt again. Wonderful. Without even knowing everything that was going on, Bill was still quick on the trigger of violence. It only reaffirmed Colt’s decision. They’d been a team only ten minutes ago, and now Bill looked one wrong word away from stabbing him.

“Only you can have a knife?”

“I didn’t walk in after dropping a body. Chef says you’re why he’s hurt. Drop the knife.”

“I’m not going to. Look at the restaurant. What message did we get? I know you all saw that, too. Something is going on, and you should know better than to listen to Chef. He’s delirious, as anyone would be, after getting attacked by a monster. I helped him, but the thing that attacked him was what hurt him. Not me. So I’m going to hold on to my knife. I suggest that everyone else hold onto something too… You’re not in charge. We have to work together,” Colt said, trying to be careful, appealing to the other cooks standing by.

He saw it in Bill’s eyes. The man was searching for weakness, something to exploit and latch onto. Never again.

Bill glared at him, but everyone else in the kitchen didn’t know which side to pick for now. They seemed to take Colt’s suggestion to heart, though, with at least two of them grabbing their own weapons.

Good.

If he could delay things settling under Bill’s leadership for a bit longer, he could figure out what was happening. Gain more levels. Then, when he had undeniable influence, he could keep things civil and equal. One had to work for those things because others with bad intentions always came along and took advantage. All they needed was an open avenue for attack.

Colt slowly walked by Bill, and the point of the other cook’s knife followed him; there was distrust and growing hate in his eyes. He didn’t like being challenged.

“We all need to stay calm. I understand; things are tense, and you’re uneasy. We’ve worked together for months—we’re a team. I promise you, again, Chef was attacked; I took care of the thing attacking him. It was a monster. You can look at it yourself if you don’t trust me. I’m going to take another look outside and figure out what’s going on. Let’s keep level heads and get through this together. I… I don’t think we’re in Nashville anymore.”

“Yeah, relax, Jesus, man.” Johnny said from Donny’s side, cutting into the conversation, “We got enough going on with all this weird crap and Chef bleeding all over. The last thing we need is you stabbing someone.”

The rest of the cooks started letting out their notes of agreement. They were on his side like any sane, rational person would be.

“Fine. We’ll do it your way. Now explain. What do you mean we’re not in Nashville anymore?” Bill finally conceded, lowering his weapon.

Colt took in a sharp breath. Lying would buy him more time to go out and get levels… But, well. The fact was that if anyone took a look outside, they would realize the same thing. All of them needed to work together; this was survival. Nobody knew what was going on.

To earn a little trust, you had to give a little trust.

Colt explained what he knew, minus the whole part about stats and levels, deciding to hold onto that card for a little longer. If Bill found out… Well, he didn’t know what would happen; god help them if Donny was in a state to go out leveling. This was a hard kitchen to live in, and he didn’t want to give fuel to the demon that made it hell in a situation like this.

Ten minutes later, he got what he wanted and was back out into the strange new world. Only this time, he had backup from another cook named Nate, who’d volunteered, a level-headed chef who normally handled cooking meat. As far as someone dependable, Colt couldn’t have asked for a better person.

With things far from settled but at least stable, Colt walked back into the alley, knife held tight.

The alley stretched ahead, unnaturally quiet. Shadows pooled under the flickering light of the lone bulb above the door, making every corner a potential ambush. Nate moved silently beside him. The air smelled of damp concrete and the coppery tang of blood. Every step felt like it carried them further from the world they’d known and deeper into something alien.